Pokémon Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

[SparklingEspeon]

Note: This review covers material that isn't on the TR Forums yet; I've done my best to contain all that to spoiler tags, but if you aren't caught up yet I'd suggest skipping over this until you are.

~Review of Special Episode 4 – Chapter 105~

So I was going to return to review at the end of Act II, but the ending of Act Two was RowlAnxiety, so I decided to go through everything currently existing instead! ….Mostly because once I get binge reading on something I can’t really stop myself. :V I broke off at Chapter 105 by the FFN counter when I ran out of steam, so that happened. Writing this all up while it’s fresh in my mind.

Anyways! This is a story that already had a pretty huge scope from the beginning, but once the last Guardian missions were squared away that scope really billowed out. I think the special episodes were what helped that along, introducing (or at least bringing into the spotlight) concepts like wraiths and the Revisor while the main plot in the present mostly dealt with a lower-stakes emotional arc for Owen and the rest of Team Alloy.

There’s definitely flaws—which is to be expected with a web serial this long and complicated, but IMO, these flaws have to do more with me feeling like things just went on for too long than it does me getting confused by all the things going on. Because, I haven’t really been confused thus far. I think things are beginning to spiral a little out of control in Act III, when we have like ten different POVs and some of them are floating out of focus for a bit (Quartz; Har), but for the most part I’ve been able to keep a surprisingly good hold on everything. Only thing that’s kind of getting me is the distinction between Void Basin and Chasm of the Void. From what I understand, Nate hides in one, and the other is just… evil? And corrupted Jerry’s family and possibly Spice? IDK, and I keep getting them mixed up.

So in the last review I said that I thought that Act II had a bit too much talking. And tbh I still kind of think that. Team Alloy’s whole “Do I have free will?” crisis, while interesting, was pretty much just talked out. Jerry’s “Why should I be honorable when the world just throws me down” thing was talked out. Even Eon is pretty much just interested in talking. Even with the battle between Team Alloy and Har’s group, this act was pretty much a slog for me to get through… until Step buried half of Kilo Village in a blizzard while attacking Rim. Then from there on out we get all the plot: Nevren drops his Anam bomb on Hot Spot, Eon makes his move, the wraiths move out into the Spirit World, Star goes axe murderer on Eon and Quartz HQ, Arceus finally steps fully into the fray, Gahi gets the psychic-orb, Dark Matter/”the Wraith King” makes its entrance, and Everyone Dies while Kilo enters its own personal 2020. It kind of feels like the two halves were distilled here a bit, rather than blended together.

That’s a lot of stuff to cover, and I have a bunch to say about the ending and Act III, but first I’ll do my best to cover all the intricacies of Act II, because like I said, there’s a lot.

Firstly, hands-down my favorite part of Act II was the Special Episodes. Admittedly it has a lot to do with the l o r e drops, but I enjoyed the flashes back to the past and the focus on characters who generally stayed in the background like Anam and Eon. Interesting that Anam got two, although I guess it needed to be that way to introduce Dark Matter. My favorite of those was definitely the first Anam one. I liked all the contrasting imagery from the books of Mew and Arceus, and the origins of some of the newer legends like Hecto. It’s not surprising to see why they disagreed, when there’s fundamental contradictions in their philosophies (“Don’t venture outside of what you were made to do, or you’ll live unhappily.” – Arceus; “Push your limits constantly, or you’ll never live.” – Mew) It was also interesting to get another look at Nate and where he came from.

Speaking of Nate, I’d long suspected he was a mimikyu, tbh. He’s also precious and does not deserve the revulsion he gets from almost everyone D: I wonder if it’s the Dark Orb that’s making him that big, or is he something that came about from Ancient/pre-Kilo? He mentions that he just ”woke up in the chasm of the void (I thiiink that’s the right one?) and felt he had to stay there”, and apparently he’s one of a kind, so…

Not sure how I feel about Har and company. Like, interesting concept, and it’s depth for Eon’s character, but so far they’ve pretty much just sat around in the background? I haven’t actually seen them affect the plot significantly at all in Act II outside of just existing, and so far in Act III they’ve been stuck at Trina’s crumbling palace. They’re kinda just…. There. Not sure if they’re gonna get used more in the future or something.

It was interesting to see more light shed on Eon and Arceus. In Act I, Eon was an enigma who wanted to get closer to Owen for unknown reasons and Arceus was just talked about. Here, they developed into their own distinct personalities—With Arceus actually being somewhat more sensible than Star, even if he’s got a stick up his arse, and Eon being an emotional parent figure who’s gone way too far on the pretense of seeing his “son” again. I don’t know how Nevren ended up thinking he’d be a good replacement for Star and Arceus, though. IMO, he’s worse.

And honestly, I don’t get Nevren. He seems like the type to be self-serving, or at least pretty calculating—so I don’t understand what he could possibly stand to gain by joining up with the Hunters instead of Anam. If he’s self-serving, then he had it made where he was. He was Anam’s right hand (…Paw? Gooey limb? I think he hates that idea), he had sway and influence in the Thousand Hearts, the resources to do whatever crazy experiments he wanted, Star’s trust, etc. I don’t understand why he would throw that all away for Eon. And if he legit thinks that Eon is a better leader than Star or Barky or even Anam would be, then I don’t understand how he came to that conclusion either. Because Eon is very clearly emotionally volatile and has been for centuries—that’s not a person you want to drop Ultimate Power into. And if he was using Eon as a means to an end and planned to betray him at some point… well, that’s not off the table, and it does make more sense than I anticipated, but even so, that’s eeeviiil. Since the only end I can think of is taking over after Star and Barky were gone.

Also, pretty sure that weird scene with him attacking Owen back in like… chapter six? Had something to do with the Revisor.

I have to say, from the moment the Wraiths were introduced my first thought was “Void shadows?” Fascinating to see that prediction was right.

Star goes hog-wild in Quartz HQ despite at least trying to be nice for the rest of Act II and now we finally get to see what she’s truly made of—Well meaning, but blinded by hate for people she fought thousands of years ago. Shortsighted and emotionally driven, wishing to change the world to what she thinks is best without any regard to what others think, and willing to use pokemon as tools if she deems it necessary. I wouldn’t say she’s pure evil, or even “evil”, really, but she’s trying to be holier-than-thou when she… really isn’t. I don’t think she deserves the #f*ckStar campaign trending against her quite yet, but she’s far from innocent and, just like she claims Eon does, won’t admit or even entertain that she’s wrong. I haven’t lost my sympathy yet for her—that was an awful way to die, after all, and not even Nevren deserves that—but my position at this point is “WTF. Be better.”

Literally no-one suspected Hecto to be a threat… until he was. :D

I’m not sure how I feel about Rim yet. I think this is a grey area character for me—it feels like she was just the caretaker for all those mutants and not a mastermind leading the plan, but she was also behind some of the guardian attacks, apparently fought her way into the Psychic Orb by brute force, and her priorities definitely align against Star. Although, granted, Star isn’t exactly in the right, so it’s hard to say how evil being against her makes you by virtue. I don’t think she deserved what she got from Star, though. The poor thing almost literally died of shock until Lavender saved her.

Poor Lavender does his best to save Rim but doesn’t realize that ‘rim’ isn’t the correct body specification… welp, hope Rim enjoys her new life as a cherrim, I guess.

Also, did that machine have the framework for every single pokemon (barring legends) written into it?

I feel like Gahi getting the Psychic Orb was somewhat poetic, since he got ragged on all the time for being dumb/dimwitted. And… he’s not the wisest. But he’s certainly not dumb! It fits him, tbh. The Unown are also interesting spirits—I hope we get to see a bit more of them beyond them just appearing for attacks and stuff.

I was expecting Dark Matter to get involved at some point, but didn’t realize it was Anam’s Voice/malevolent spirit up until the last special episode. It makes more sense than it should—I think it clicked for me halfway through their talk in the Ghost Orb. The perfect “Oh shit” reveal right before everything exploded.

I think Owen and Brandon’s heart-to-heart is one of the most satisfying scenes in the entire act. Firstly, we get to see Brandon again, who hasn’t been in the picture since they visited him in that factory—seriously, what has he been doing in there all those centuries—we get to see Owen actually treated as an equal, not as a crush or someone to be ordered around or protected, and also Brandon is a pokemon who can say “no u” to the legendaries and walk away unscathed. Which is pretty cathartic tbh.

Spoiler: Act III thoughts (Not on TR currently)

Okay! So. Act II ending. This is my other issue with Act II in general—it feels like the ending isn’t really an ending so much as it is a cliffhanger for Act III. I got no sense of conclusion really, and everything was left dangling and up in the air. My impressions from reading the end of Act II were:

• Star is dead
• Owen is dead??
• EVERYONE IS DEAD
• Wtf is Nate doing is he part of Dark Matter or something :worriedgoo:
• Well. Everything’s gone to crap. Act III is going to be a ride.
• ….Why don’t I feel satisfied, though? I’m just…. Empty.

It’s like there’s been so much stuff opened, but none of them were really closed well. The only person who I feel had a thematic Act II end position was… Star, I guess, who died being consumed by the very things she’d tried to bury or block out. And even then, I don’t feel like that’s a very thematic conclusion for her, since her big flaw was, y’know, assuming she’s right/knows better than everyone and acting foolishly. (Holding out on that she’s not dead dead, just “Voidlands” dead; it doesn’t seem like her story’s over yet)

The Voidlands was something I had admittedly expected to see due to some chance spoiler stuff, but not quite like this. I had thought it was going to be some weird extension of the spirit world or something that got added onto Kilo, or a place that the entire Hot Spot crew escaped to after Kilo was destroyed completely; maybe where all the legendaries were banished. But at the end of the day, I was expecting it to be a refuge/a second Hot Spot, not… this.

This is pretty much the closest I’ve seen to the Voidlands being played straight in a fic, though. Short of the void titans, it’s pretty much what you’d expect to see from someone roaming the canon Super voidlands, down to the legendaries being there and all. I have a bunch of negatives and positives for this particular section of the plot.

My biggest negative, I think, is how much stuff that’s being added onto the plot here. All the exposition and worldbuilding about how a civilization would thrive in the pokemon equivalent of Hell is cool and all, but it’s a whole new set of characters in an already sprawling plot that covers eons and probably over fifty characters already. I can’t even list all the relevant characters in HoC from memory and now there’s like fifteen more, and going by each Act’s overall count of forty-something chapters, I don’t really see how it’s all going to breathe. We have:

• Owen’s past as a Charmander in Kanto, + his history with Necrozma and the other legendaries
• Zena and Amia are shells of what they were
• Evil father, evil voidland kingdom who’s after Owen even if they don’t know it yet
• Slightly less evil father and his presumable ‘make up with Owen’ plan
• Almost all the legendaries are hanging around the voidlands somewhere, and are probably going have to be recovered in some way
• Now Anam and Dark Matter are in the mix
• Mewtwo’s on his way to mess Null Village up

And that’s not even covering what’s going on in Kilo right now!

• Rhys at the factory
• Corrupted Emily and her storm
• Pandemonium in Kilo Village and Angelo trying to adjust
• Whatever Har and co. are doing right now idk I lost track
• Nevren and Rim and Quartz
• Spice and her weird void powers
• Jerry flashback

That’s not to say that the stuff in Kilo is boring, because tbh I’m enjoying that more than I am the stuff in the Voidlands. And I think the reason is that in Kilo, I’m getting answers, while in the Voidlands, I just have questions. Reading the Kilo chapters, I’m learning more about what makes Kilo tick. All that worldbuilding you teased for like 60 chapters is finally paying off. I’m seeing more of the history, learning about the geography, and stuff is finally moving out of the past and going forward. And with it, smaller characters who didn’t have a chance to shine under Owen and the rest of the Hot Spot Crew are getting their own arcs, like Spice, Phol, and Angelo. In short, it’s like we went through two arcs of a big history lesson, and now all those dominos you carefully set up are finally spilling over and it’s perfectly coordinated. In the voidlands… I’m not really getting that. It’s like we’re back at tbe beginning all over again.

On one hand, I can see the merits. Like, giving Owen the chance to stand up for himself by placing him in a barren wasteland and incapacitating his role models/””commanders”” one by one. On the other hand, I don’t feel like I’m getting any real answers here. Much like Owen, we’re just being led along with a carrot on a stick with the promise of answers, but each answer is just a mirage that’s replaced with more questions.

• Owen was a Charmander named “Smallflame” from Kanto? Cool, but then doesn’t that negate almost everything we already knew about Eon and the Alloy? Where did Gahi, Mispy, and Demitri come from? Why are they able to fuse in the first place? How is Eon connected to this?
  
  
• There’s a village in the Voidlands, and Owen and Jerry are safe! But syke, turns out that village is just the doormat to an entire Voidland kingdom, and in that kingdom there’s a Hydreigon that’s probably Owen’s father for some reason? And also he’s evil? And also Owen is a hot product here? And also there are legendaries here? And Also Owen was like the student of the third counterpart to Star and Barky, who definitely wasn’t Necrozma? When did Z-crystals get involved in this?
  
  
• We finally get to see Cypher City! But that’s only to introduce like four more characters who are likely going to get their arcs over the course of the voidlands conflict.
  
  
• See where I’m going with this?
  

It feels like with the voidlands, we’ve been thrown back to the beginning, and maybe even a few steps further. Which, for a story so long and already at The Point of No Return, feels somewhat disheartening tbh. Could I bear 20 more chapters of the Voidlands and a clean arc wrap-up at the end of Act III? Probably, but if Owen was still trapped in purgatory by the beginning of Act IV an act I’m pretty sure is happening at this point with the current scope, I feel like that would really be pushing it for me. I guess what I want to see here is more answers and for something to finally change for Owen, because it feels like all he’s been doing is sitting around and waiting for his memories to come back and hoping reality gives him a break like it hasn’t for five centuries or something. I don’t want him to just lie down and take another round of the universe going “No u” and yeeting his character development back three years.

That said, there are a lot of cool ideas flowing around here, like Void Titans, which are presumably amalgamations of void shadows built around the legendaries (?), and Cypher City. I’m curious to see what makes a civilization in the voidlands, presumably a centuries old one filled with pokemon who don’t naturally “die”, tick. Where do they get their bread and cheese and fake meats from? Are they farming it? How do they do that without the sun; can you even grow anything there? Aside from dead trees and poisoned berries. Also tribes in the Voidlands—there seem to be some, since they cooked Owen’s dead body, so I’m kind of just wondering how they haven’t died out yet. Wandering around the wilderness like Owen and co. did is clearly not sustainable.

Also, Owen literally eating himself was twisted. I should have taken that more seriously when you mentioned it in the discord :failmander:

I wonder why he didn’t remember his first death, though…

I also appreciated how absolutely desperate and hopeless you made it feel when Owen was wandering around and searching for the others. You weave his encroaching madness as he gets more and more insane into the prose almost flawlessly, and for perhaps the first time in this story, death actually feels like death. When Amia dies, there’s no guarantee she’ll just float into the Aura Sea and be resurrected in her orb in a few minutes. It feels barren and empty; there’s no time for Owen to mourn or even bury the body.

Parts of this that struck me the most vividly were the paragraph with the rock, Owen eating himself, Amia’s death, and when he finally gives up and drinks the water that may or may not be poisonous but he doesn’t care because he’s just too thirsty at that point.

So gold protect barriers = affiliated with Necrozma… (I know that wasn’t confirmed but it basically is so.) now I have to go back and see who had a gold protect at some point. Clearly, there’s more than one gold protect user walking around if stuff works the same way in Kilo.

I wonder what Star commissioned from Angelo? Welp, guess it doesn’t matter now, because he’s about to be traumatized 20 times working for the Thousand Hearts! :D

When push comes to shove, I get what he’s talking about when he doesn’t want to touch Heart work with a thirty-foot pole. Since it seems like all his ancestors were short-lived due to Heart Work, he’s got an aversion to it—and in any other situation, I wouldn’t support dragging him out of his art hidey hole to help with the hospital. I think he kind of does have to go this time, though, since it’s all hands on deck here and he does have the power. It isn’t very nice that people are just nagging him for everything, though. I wonder where you’re going to take him, because it feels like he’s pretty immovable on the “I don’t wanna do anything but draw for the rest of my life” stance and emergency work in Kilo is not helping with that.

Why does everyone hate Nate?? I mean

Yes

Kilo Village is technically under attack from something that looks similar to Nate

But also like

He declared he was friendly and had backing from Rhys?

Also, because I haven’t covered the Kilo stuff yet and there’s still a lot to go through, Rhys’ speech was a very strong moment, IMO. It simultaneously showed off the hopelessness of their situation while giving the pokemon of Kilo Village a sense of hope.

Also, OMG, Step. Think before you judge >.>

I get that she’s like, tribal/old fashioned or whatever, but the amount of empathy she lacks is scary. If pokemon like Star and Eon are too emotional for power like Step claims, Step is the opposite extreme—she’s cold to a point where she lacks any emotion or understanding of others’ predicaments. I can’t say I like her too much.

Also, what’s up with Emily? That storm proooobably isn’t good. And we still don’t have an answer for why her being the original Dragon guardian was under Divine Decree…

I don’t know if I have too much to say on the Jerry episode, but it was interesting. I’m gonna assume whatever they got off Void Basin is what’s corrupting/mucking with Spice, since she likes to go there. Also wasn’t entirely clear on what happened to Jeremy—My current assumption is that he was being abuse and Brigid killed him? That’s what I’m gleaning from it.

I think I’ve noticed that each arc so far has had its own theme. Arc I was memories and growth; Owen was thrust into a world he never even realized existed, told he was older than he could even fathom and everything he knew was a lie—which in itself was just a lie just to cover up more lies. It’s down to him to grow out of that, and by the end of the arc he and the rest of the Alloy have conquered their beserkness and evolved fully. Arc II was Denial and Free Will. Owen and the rest of Team Alloy are forced to confront how much free will they actually have, and the more independence they gain, the more they realize that everyone around them is just looking to use or coddle them in some way. Star wants Owen there because he’s an important piece on the board, Eon just wants his pokemon/”son” back but doesn’t recognize that Owen isn’t a baby to be coddled around, etc. Har struggles with his identity, and the rest of them had their memories removed so they could be free of the grief of being copies. Meanwhile, Nevren pulls Anam under his control, thus taking away his free will as well. And throughout all of this, every single one of them is denying—either through willful shutting out or complete ignorance—the actual eldritch abomination that strikes them all down the moment they leave it unchecked. I guess in some twisted way this arc also works as a metaphor for climate change… somehow. :V Arc III is looking to be recovery and unity. Owen and pretty much everyone he knows gets thrown into the Voidlands, to varying degrees of lucidity. Some of them are shells of their former self, and Owen has lost all his powers. None of them stand a chance unless they all band together. Meanwhile, Kilo is pretty much on fire, and it’s down to all of the pokemon there to save themselves, instead of waiting on Anam and the Thousand Hearts to do it for them. None of them are out of the woods yet, and they’ll have to recover and build up their strength and unity for when that final battle is upon them.

My overall thoughts are that Hands of Creation is a very sprawling, original, well thought-out epic that wields a double-edged sword: the very details that make it pop with life and tick underneath the surface are the ones that sometimes make it bloat too much, or carry a plotline on way too long, or slow the pacing to a snail’s halt. It seems to carry strong themes of memories and how the past makes the future, and indeed a lot of this story does take place in the past. However, it’s layered in such a way so that nothing ever becomes confusing or feels like too much, and the characters, while seemingly exaggerated and goofy at first, take a surprisingly serious turn later on.

I think the biggest merits here are the world and the rich lore—As I’ve said before, Kilo feels lived-in and ancient rather than just a façade, and that’s only gotten more and more evident the more we delve into its past. Its clear that you actually have a vast lorebook and aren’t just making this all up on the fly, and I’m interested to see what parts of that are revealed next. Despite how dense it is, though, it’s definitely one of those stories that can keep the pages turning when it gets good—in no small part due to the manageable chapter lengths and the simple prose.

Anyways, I’m ending this review on the perfect wordcount of 4,444 words, so bye for now, I guess. I’ll try to return again once you wrap up Act III. Maybe I’ll be surprised and you’ll find a way to end it all there, but tbh I’m expecting an Act IV at least. There’s just way too much to wrap up in a single act without squishing some stuff.

Until next time!

~SparklingEspeon

Listening to: Voidlands – PSMD composer I also listened to this while reading Act III. I thought it was strangely appropriate.

 

[Namohysip]

Thanks to all of you for all the kind words and strong feedback! I've talked to you both elsewhere, but in general I'm really glad that you're enjoying yourself, Navar, and Espy, I hope things pick up for you in the coming chapters. I've definitely been putting a greater focus on picking up the pace for these current chapters in particular to get things rolling faster, and hopefully all the stuff happening in Act III has good payoff when it all comes together.

In any case, after a lot of dillydallying, it's time for me to start publishing Act III here. I'm going to be rapid-fire about it because I've delayed a LOT...

 

[Namohysip]

Act III – A Faded Voice​

A red sphere shielded itself inside a hollow shell. While it could not curl, it was the closest equivalent to hiding away from the world: within its void, within its own small reality. All around it, above and below and behind and in front, were little pinpricks of light. False stars like the night sky of the living world.

Little droplets of slime punctuated the otherwise complete silence. It was annoying. He didn’t have to be here. He could have wandered off to do whatever he wanted while he took care of annihilating the world. Was moping around really necessary? Dark Matter rumbled irritably, turning his attention toward the Goodra that refused to leave.

“Why are you still here?”

“Please stop this.”

The words felt like little daggers against his core. He contracted his shell like a child hiding deeper under the covers. What was he doing, hiding away from the Goodra? He had the upper hand! Judgement, Devastating Drake, Light of Ruin—all three attacks only paused his advance. The real stopping point was this pestering Goodra. With him around, he…

“I changed my mind. You… you tricked me. That wasn’t fair.”

“I only made you realize the truth. Because you denied it all, too. For so long, you tried to convince yourself that the world—”

“It’s not ruined! It’s not rotten!” Anam squeezed his fists together, slamming them against his sides. “The world’s just hard to live in sometimes, and that’s just life!”

“It is the reality the old gods created.”

“So?” Anam challenged. “With all the bad stuff, there’s also… also good stuff! And that means—”

“Fleeting pleasures in a world that was built on survival. By default, life persists only for its own sake, and only by taking away from other living things. That is the rule of nature molded by Mew, based on the laws formed by Arceus.”

“And what about Necrozma?” Anam said. “He’s in here. How come you never talk about him?”

This child was actually growing a spine. He’d never seen Anam talk back to him like this before, in all those centuries. Always kind, always delicate, and now he was yelling… But the way his lips quivered, his tail flicked here and there… He felt his fear, his sadness. He was only lashing out because of how all other mortals lashed out. Kilo’s new god was cornered, and now he only knew but to struggle aimlessly.

Pitiful.

“Don’t just stare at me like th-that,” Anam said, his voice hitching at the end. “Necrozma’s why I made the world better in the first place. What did he do wrong, huh?”

Another long silence followed, the fake stars in the fake sky rotating around them. A few more globs of purple slime fell onto the flat and featureless void, the imaginary floor formed by Anam’s own desires. It was a wonder how long the floor would exist before he fell into despair like everyone else.

Stubborn.

“His mistake is the same one you made,” Dark Matter replied. “He trusted mortals.”

Another quiet rumble shook the void, and Anam finally looked down, flicking his antennae. He sat with a childish plop and looked up at Dark Matter.

“So you refuse to leave?”

“You can’t do anything while I’m here.”

Dark Matter growled at that, looking down. Even now, he was tied to him, stuck in a perpetual deadlock so long as Anam continued to have hope. How irritating. Anam had lost hope so completely for that one instant, and he’d already recovered? What fueled him?! Why?!

Dark Matter slowly formed a black cloud from deep within his core, aimed at Anam. His bright, green eyes stared back, filled with defiant sadness. The darkness crackled more, concentrating into a fine point. It stayed there, ready to fire at any point.

Anam stared.

The beam smashed into Anam’s body and bent around, spraying flecks of slime behind him, yet the main part of his body, his core, amorphous as it was, still remained completely unharmed.

Dark Matter rumbled and compressed his sphere again. “Pest.”

Anam’s horns crossed in front of his chest, his eyes now transitioning to one that was more like a disappointed father’s. “You said you wanted to be happy.”

That one hurt. Dark Matter lacked a head, yet it still somehow felt like a headache. It cracked through his shell and into his core, and then somehow into the core of his core. That wasn’t fair. Someone like Anam wasn’t allowed to say something like that.

“What happened?”

Stop, stop. Anam wasn’t like this. He wasn’t angry. Anam didn’t get angry. Why was he looking at him like that? Dark Matter shrank away. It wasn’t fair. Anam was supposed to agree. He was supposed to give up and agree. This was the right thing to do, after all.

“It’s all fleeting. Even if I did become happy, it would go away. I… don’t want it anymore.”

“You’re… denying it.” Anam gulped, looking away. “You lost hope.”

“I can’t hope.”

“You can!” Anam shouted, squeezing his fists again. “Y-you can! When you reached out to me, when you agreed to help me… th-that was hope! That had to be—”

“I just wanted you to shut up. It was desire and hunger… Not hope.”

“That’s not true.” Anam’s eyes turned fierce, like his mother’s. “Y-you… you hoped, because you wanted to be happy. And you thought I could do it. That was hope! And… and you still care enough about the world… don’t you? That you helped me for so long, telling me about everyone’s darkness so I could make it less, and less. That’s true, isn’t it? You feel less darkness than before. I-it’s not… it’s not all for nothing.”

“Nevren would have ruined it all.”

“No, he… he just wanted to save the world. He told me so.”

“From gods who also wanted to save the world?”

“Y-yeah, but—Nev-Nev…”

“Is just another fool who thinks the world can be saved.”

The pain wasn’t going away. Dark Matter had hoped it would—no. No, he couldn’t hope. That wasn’t part of him.

Anam let out another laugh, snapping Dark Matter out of the silence that he hadn’t even noticed. “What?”

“E-every time I think I understand you, I learn a little more, Mister Matter.”

He hated when Anam laughed. Why couldn’t he laugh?

“What do you mean?”

“You spent so many centuries trying to make the world better with me, but one little thing makes you give up on it all… i-it’s sad. Maybe I lost a little hope, but it’s never too late. You can turn this back… can’t you?”

No, no, stop talking. He didn’t need to hear this nonsense. The world was hopeless. Hopeless! There were no clean souls. Even Anam was tarnished and imperfect; he just denied the negativity and shouldered it all for himself, as if a single person could handle all the flaws of the world. Clearly, he couldn’t. He was a fool to even try.

“Please, Mister Matter. Turn it back. We can try again. I’ll tell everyone what happened. I’ll tell them what you are, and I’ll explain everything. They’ll pool all of their power together for you, and they’ll make you happy. I just n-need you to listen.”

Dark Matter couldn’t press his shell tighter. Any more and it would crack. “No.”

Another silence followed with Dark Matter refusing to look at him. Pest, pest, pest. Leave. Go away. He didn’t need Anam anymore.

“How come?”

His voice was so soft. Why did it hurt more than when he was shouting? “They won’t help me. It’s as I said. They’ll kill me. They already tried. There’s no going back now, Anam. It’s… too late for me. I can’t go back.”

“Y-you’re wrong. I’ll protect you. I will!”

And then, Dark Matter laughed. It was foreign to him—the laughter was one of disgust. That was why, he was sure of it. Because of course Anam would try to shoulder even his burdens.

He hated him.

He always hated him.

“Then you’ll die, too.”

The Goodra’s eyes didn’t waver. Dark Matter turned his attention to Anam again, but it wasn’t enough. He focused his attention away, snarling out another rumble.

Finally, Anam closed his eyes, and the tightening feeling Dark Matter felt around his core faded away. The Goodra brought his hands together, and then his horns back. He breathed steadily.

“What are you doing?” He recognized that posture.

“Praying.”

Dark Matter wished he could scoff. “To Star? To Barky? To Necrozma? None of them can hear you here. Your voice is silent.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Then you’re throwing it to the wind, hoping the nothing will pick it up? You’re a fool.”

“You’re here.”

“I’ll ignore them all.”

“That’s okay.”

Then it was to stop him. Holding onto blind hope was all Anam had left. In fact, Dark Matter knew it was just more denial; he could feel it radiating off of the Goodra. The hopelessness, the fear, the regrets, all of it swimming around in his pathetic form like the ink-black corruption that infested his body. Dark Matter knew that the face Anam gave him now, so tranquil and confident, was nothing but a thick mask. He saw through it.

Yet despite all of Anam’s doubt, and all of his fatigue, Dark Matter couldn’t feel defeat from him. And that was the one thing he needed—for Anam to submit again, this time for good. He just clung to this “hope” he claimed to have because that was all he had. But for what purpose? Why? Why? WHY?

“They’ll help you. All my friends will know to help you.”

“Half of them have already fallen into my realm. It won’t be long before Kilo collapses. And as despair spreads… so will I. You won’t be able to stop me once you’re convinced of that.”

“Prove me wrong.”

Anam didn’t open his eyes at all. The Goodra kept breathing. Dark Matter couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t understand him. He never did. He pretended to.

Anam was riddled with every negative thought that he should have had. And despite this perfect formula, every single fact lined up in front of him to show how he was wrong… He refused it anyway. Was there even a point to understanding how such a warped mind could function?

That was it—he never desired to understand Anam. Yes! Of course. He was just playing along. And now that Anam was wrong—then he was right. He was right. This was what he had to do.

“You’re their god, now, and all the other gods are useless or dead. Who could you possibly be praying to?”

A small smile tugged at Anam’s lips. “I don’t know why you keep calling me their god,” he said. “But I think I know who gods pray to.”

“Nobody. Prayer from a god is pointless. You’re speaking nonsense.”

“I think gods pray to mortals.”

The Goodra was delirious. “Really. You think Star, Arceus, you think they pray to their creations?”

“Mhm. Maybe they don’t know it, but I think they do.” Anam opened one eye, peeking at Dark Matter. “They just want friends in their own way. And I bet Necrozma was like that, too, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know. Everything you just said made no sense.”

Anam closed his eyes again and returned to a neutral pose.

“Then you’re praying to nobody. Nobody can hear you. It’s pointless.”

Anam’s smile returned, tranquil. Dark Matter sank back into the void and seethed silently, getting at eye-level.

The irritating Goodra didn’t change his expression, even after Dark Matter threatened to shoot him again. He formed another shadowy beam, making sure it crackled loudly so Anam would hear, but he didn’t react. It wasn’t like it would actually go through to him—the same way Anam could strike him in return. And those negative emotions were subsiding, despite all his efforts. Envy toyed with Dark Matter next.

“Then this is your new normal. Praying to the void.”

“I’ll call out to anybody who will listen,” Anam said.

“Nobody. Nobody can hear you.”

“You’re still here.”

More silence followed. Eventually, Dark Matter stopped his futile charge, staring Anam down. He just had to bide his time until he finally lost hope… Or maybe he could do something a bit more active.

“No.”

“What?”

“I won’t let you stop me this time. If you can stop me…” Dark Matter rumbled deeply. “Then I just have to gain more power.”

“But you said you were afraid they’d—”

“I don’t care,” Dark Matter hissed. “I refuse to wait while the world suffers. While you try to perpetuate it. It’s over. You lost. You’ve gone back on your word. So—I’m taking this into my own hands.”

Anam stood up. “Think about this, Mister Matter. You—”

“Star is here,” Dark Matter said, his core crackling with anxious anticipation. “How long until she loses herself?”

Anam’s eyes darkened, lips quivering. “She wouldn’t—”

“Goodbye, Anam.”

And with a final crack of lightning—one that Dark Matter knew Anam would try to follow—he disappeared from the void.

 

[kintsugi]

Hi Namo! Here for Blacklight on ch3.

Overall there are some interesting ideas in this one! Owen finally gets his try at becoming a Heart, and we get a glimpse of what this actually means to him and to the rest of Kilo Village. I liked the bits where Anam gets emotional and we get to see the level of respect that Hearts command in the village + how Owen has accepted that the risk is part of the job. It's nice to get some insight into what Owen thinks about his aspirations here! It reminds me a bit of The Lion King where Simba's super hyped to be king and doesn't really know what he's getting himself into, but as an audience member I can watch and be like, oh yes, this is gonna go great.

The exam system is in a strange spot structurally, but it reminds me of the chunin exams--didn't particularly expect that we'd be going into the semantics of how various species would sit for multiple choice tests, but here we are! I think it's a creative workaround for some of the sillier aspects of canon, which seem to imply that a multi-species society developed desks and chairs that are functionally identical to our own. It's in a bit of an awkward position where most of the test is skipped over but there's still a fair bit of time spent on the set-up here--structurally this chapter did feel like three distinct parts (wrap-up from ch2/the ceremony/the test), and the connective through-line of "Owen finally gets what he wants re: the Hearts" dies off a bit in the beginning and the end.

Owen chuckled nostalgically at the three. He decided, for now, to ignore why he had felt like reminiscing on memories he did not have.

I do wish we had some sort of rhyme or reason for lines like these--Owen decides to ignore this thought, but then he's super focused on interrogating Rhys, until he isn't, until he is. It's a bit tricky to follow what makes him choose to do this, and at some point I'm just going to blame his rampant amnesia for this as well I guess? He strikes me as a bit of a smol bean who's not the best at focusing on something or making a cunning plan to get things done, but from a narrative perspective it becomes hard to follow his motivations--the narrative is very intent on putting them in your face, and Owen is very intent on pushing them away where he doesn't have to look at them. Stacked with the knowledge that everyone is lying to Owen for reasons that we don't fully get to understand, some of these mysteries feel a bit empty? The mushrooms and Anam both glow with a strange color; I'm sure they're deeply interconnected for reasons that neither Owen nor we understand, but until then they're just glowing mushrooms. There's a bit where we cut away to Alex/Amia having a conversation after Owen rushes to bed, and I'm not really sure why the scene needs to linger on--it's another "something's up, but we won't tell you".

And! Unsure. I know I'm not really the intended audience here + I haven't really reached the payoff yet, so I'm a bit hesitant to say "it's blatantly obvious that something's up and most everyone is in on it by now", since perhaps these bits got added in to make that more clear. I know at some point it's weird because this fic is written episodically, there's a shitton of moving pieces, readers get one chapter per week on a scale of years, and everything is layering together into one complex payoff--so yeah, if you had to pick a side to lean to, I understand why you'd go for overemphasis rather than underemphasis. There's definitely something to be said about trying to juggle this many pieces in the air, so kudos to you for that! I can tell there's been a lot of plotting to make everything fit together, eventually.

some misc thoughts; kept this section slim since it's old prose and the story is a million years ahead of me

Slowly, color returned to Owen’s scales. “Sorry,” he finally said. “I guess I’m just a little tired after the day. I didn’t expect to get pelted by rocks in that forest, is all. I don’t think Aerodactyl are supposed to know Rock Blast. Maybe I’m just delirious.”

I'm not entirely sure if I follow the fixation on Rock Blast tbh. Would getting hit by a move that Aerodactyl could learn and still getting pelted by rocks really make him feel better? Who decides who gets to learn moves anyway? Is it physically impossible for some pokemon to learn moves, and all of this information for learnsets is codified and promptly undone each year, looking at you, Aerodactyl on this page from Gen 8

“Yes. Thank you for letting me guard you, Owen,” he said. “Stay safe. Be sure to keep up your meditation.”

“Oh, sure!” Owen said. “Yeah, you make Team Alloy do the same thing, right?”

“Yes, I do, that’s right,” Rhys said. “It’s very important for everyone.”

“Yeah. Okay! See you, Rhys!”

Wasn't sure what vibe you wanted here--is this an "as we both already know" sort of conversation, or is the idea that they're both staring past each other and telling really shitty lies that they both know the other is probably seeing through?

James brought his wings forward, forming a bow-like weave from his wing. An ethereal arrow appeared where his feathers touched the bow.

The ember at the end fluctuated in its intensity, going from a blazing flame to a shrinking ember.

Not really here to comment on your super old prose but the wing/bow/wing/bow and ember/ember here are a bit awkward.

 

[Umbramatic]

AHAHAHA FOOL! This review is not JUST for this year's Review Blitz. It's a review I've owed you as a reward since LAST YEAR'S review blitz! So instead of just one chapter I read all the way from where I left off here (Chapter 8) to where I lefty off on Serebii (the end of Chapter 13). The plot is clearly escalating and from what i know of this fic it doesn't STOP escalating. Some highlights:

-We meet Zena! I love that she immediately A. angsts and 1. gets romantically akward with Owen

-The lore about the Orbs and Hunters is cool shit. I do wonder how much more Rhys and Nevren being former Hunters will play into things.

-The Special Episode was a Time. I do wonder how """Deca""" plays into everything, since IIRC your special episodes actually tie into Le Plot

-I love the Guardians so far. All of them. Especially ADAM. He's so good. Wiillow and Statue Shiftry are great too.

-You're good at describing food. And yourt names for magazines and such are pretty great and make me giggle

-Owen's memory issues strike again! I still think he was a Bad Boi in a past life somehow.

-Overall I trust no one. :3

Man I still have barely made a dent in this one huh. If only I had more time. And energy. And Doritos, those are very, very important. But this is a very fun fic to watch unfold and I DO intend to be back fore more. I guess you could just say my experience with this fic is a,,,

...Late evolver.

...You can boo me now.

 

[Navar]

Hi Namo, guess I’m back to reading this fic, reviewing chapter 27 this time. I'm tired due to some personal issues, so this will be the only chapter I’m reviewing today, sorry. With that out of the way, time for me to start this thing, I’m already hyped for what I’m reading.

Chapter 27 – Lakeside Chat

Honestly I found this one pretty adorable in the beginning. Everyone is helping Enet, a new ally is cool, I suppose they need all the help they can get, nice.

Another funny moment: Owen daydreaming about what he would look like if he was a guardian of other orbs. I don’t blame him, Charizard should be a dragon, Gamefreak robbed us in the end, sadly.

...Jesus, that last part scared me. Is that why Anam doesn’t use his power? He gets, for lack of a better word, possessed? This is intriguing but also scary. I just hope everything will work out in the end, Anam is such a good character that I feel awful just reading that scene. Honestly love when the writers do that, so another good point for your story, I guess.

This does leave a good cliffhanger for the next chapter, and since I’m not reading it now, it’s even better for me, as a reader. Guess this brings this review to a close, overall, another good chapter, I don’t think I disliked any of your chapters so far, which is a good thing, even for a lousy critic like me. This was fun, thank you for writing this fic, and see you on my next review, keep up the good work!

 

[Namohysip]

Thanks to everyone for your reviews. Always a pleasure as always! I've talked with you guys all about it and have enjoyed the feedback as usual.

I've been neglecting updating this for a long while now as I don't really have anybody following it here specifically until it's caught up. I think it's about time I get as many chapters here as I can, then work on threadmarking. So with that in mind... Time to rapid-fire Act III!

Chapter 77 – Under the Red Sky​

This had to be a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

Owen, back to being a Charmander, with weak muscles and an even weaker flame, panted as he ran by the red river. He didn’t know how long he had been running, or why—he just wanted to find… No, he didn’t even know what he was trying to find. Was he trying to run? To what? From what? He was just running on instinct—something that seemed a lot stronger, now.

At least it provided him with a sense of guidance. Usually he’d be aimless and sitting around until he was given some sort of direction—at least now, he knew to go someplace instead of stay put. He didn’t know which one was the better option, though.

To his left were the strange plateaus, carved, potentially, by eons of wind. To his right was a large river, the depth of which was impossible to discern. Thick and red like blood, but it smelled like… Owen wasn’t sure. Maybe it did smell like blood. Ever since he had gotten here, his sense of smell had been failing him. Perhaps everything was so strong that it had made him scent-blind.

His legs burned. He had to slow down. But once he slowed down, would he be able to start running again? His chest felt simultaneously cold and hot and tight. “Ngh, nngh, hnngh…”

He had to keep going. Someone had to be out there that had come here, too, wherever here was. And even if he chose to go in a random direction, it felt like the way he was going was now the right way. Forward. Wherever forward was.

And then he tripped over his own clumsy steps, slamming into the strangely hard, yet dusty ground. After a sharp inhale, dust coated his tongue and throat, leading to rough coughing and wheezing. He rolled over and, not thinking, scrambled to the lake and took a drink.

Foul.

He heaved the water back out, at least losing some of the dust, but it had been replaced by what Owen would have imagined Rhys’ trash pile would taste like. The thought earned another gag, then a cough, until his chest hurt more.

With a cough that was slightly too hard—nearly all of the air in his lungs seemingly gone, a splitting headache crackled across his skull, blurring his vision. He breathed through his nose next, careful that he wasn’t face-first in dust this time, but the air was dry. It only made his lungs hurt more.

His arms trembled, finally gathering enough strength to push Owen onto his back.

The Charmander’s head lay in the very edge of the shallows, tail dry. The sky was still red as ever, but he spotted a few clouds this time—gray things that gave him something to concentrate on.

The painful feeling in his lungs was starting to subside, though the dull throbbing of his legs hadn’t gone away. The same went for his sore throat and dry mouth. The thought of getting more water from the red pond made his whole body seize at the thought. But was there water anywhere else?

Owen turned his head to the left, seeing plateaus and the lakeside. He turned his head to the right, seeing plateaus and the lakeside. He didn’t have to, nor wanted to, lift his head up to know that the same scenery—aside from the lakeside—could be seen ahead.

A little time would be nice, just to relax and let all those pained feelings fade.

Owen wasn’t sure when, but at some point, he had drifted off into a nap.

<><><>​

Charmander hid behind Charizard’s tail, poking his head out now and then to watch the fights. Bigtail and Redscale were fighting. The Charmander with a big tail and the Charmeleon with crimson scales were always training, even if it wasn’t as good as it could be. But it helped to pass the time.

Bigtail weaved to the right of one of Redscale’s slow sweeps. He stumbled and fell over, but Redscale waited. Bigtail got up, but then lost his balance and fell backward, pressing his tail against the back of his head. He whined and rolled, puffing a stray ember into the dirt.

It was mostly dirt. Any grass in the training area had burned away a long time ago. Before he hatched, that was for sure. He didn’t see grass that often.

Charmander ran his claws through the dirt curiously, squeezing between little, dry clumps. With curiosity and impulse, he lifted his claws and licked at it.

No real taste. Dry. A little bitter. He didn’t like it.

He grimaced and ran his tongue over his teeth a few times, snarling at nothing. It wasn’t coming off. He kept licking, bringing his paws to his tongue again. Why was there more dirt, now? It still tasted bitter.

“What are you doing?”

Charmander chirped and looked up, dirt still speckling the scales around his mouth. Charizard frowned, leaning forward to lick some of it off.

“Stop that.”

Charmander whined and licked at the roof of his mouth again. He puffed a small flame, but that just made it all feel dry again.

Charizard closed her eyes, but then her attention turned upward. Charmander followed her gaze.

<><><>​

Muddy drool caked the edges of Owen’s mouth. “Ngh—” He squeezed his eyes tighter, but then cracked one open. Same sky, no sense of how much time had passed. It couldn’t have been that long, but his body felt horribly stiff.

His dream felt blurry and distant, but he remembered a bit of it. What was that? He remembered… warmth. And the dirt. And…

Owen rubbed at the corner of his mouth, wrinkling his short snout when his claws ran along the thick layer of dried dust-mud. He tried to sit up, only to realize that his head had sank partway the wet ground. With a loud, sucking sound, Owen managed to pull the back of his head out of the muddy lakeside, looking back at the imprint he had left in it with a worried frown.

Maybe that had been more than a nap…

Perhaps he could continue his advance now that he had some time to rest.

Where am I? Where… what happened when Anam… when everyone…

He felt like he should have been panicking, but he was too exhausted. There wasn’t much energy in him to run. Sitting up had been a chore. A simple walk would probably be best for now—at least until he could find something to eat, like a few berries, or maybe if there was a shop nearby.

After all, everything was usually just a warp away. Even without those, it hadn’t taken too long for him to find something if he needed it.

A dry wind sent up plumes of loose dust, forcing Owen to close his eyes and cover his face. When the wind settled down, he took a peek to verify it was safe to open them completely.

It occurred to Owen that he hadn’t seen anybody since he’d first been… defeated. Yeah, let’s call it defeated.

It was a better idea than anything else that may have happened. But he was still breathing, and he was still walking, and everything still hurt—so he had to be okay.

He finally got to his feet. Wobbly, at first. His tail felt heavy. Arms, too.

One step after the next. Step, step. Soon, he found his rhythm again. At least his throat wasn’t dry anymore.

His mind wandered. He replayed the fight over and over in his head, trying to recall small details that he might have missed in how frantic it had all been—but that was just it. So panicked, so desperate to survive and save everyone… All I remember is Dad—no, that… Eon got taken, and… and I told everyone to run. Did they get away? How is everyone? If… they didn’t… are they here?

Owen’s walking had been off-center, and the reminder was his foot splashing into foul, red water. He shuddered and corrected his path, but not before looking behind him to have any sense of how far he’d walked, or how far this pond went. It seemed circular, and now that he had gone so far, it felt like he was losing track of where he had to go.

I can’t follow this thing forever. I’d go in a complete circle. Do I just…

He had to break away from the lakeside. But his throat… It was starting to feel dry. And his tongue, and his breaths. Owen looked at his arm, pinching at the scales, looking at the little wrinkles of his elbow.

Dehydration?

He needed… water?

But he hadn’t needed water—truly needed water—for moons, now. Ever since he’d become Mystic, he…

It hit him even harder than before—a horrible pit, a knot, a weight in his stomach that twisted, and then loosened with a low rumble.

It wasn’t just a lack of water. He needed food.

Clutching at his belly, the Charmander winced and eyed the river with a quiet whine. He hadn’t come across any sign of water since he’d arrived. That… red stuff was the closest thing to water that he could find. If he went away from the river now, and he didn’t find anything to drink…

With no choice, he approached the water. He smelled nothing at first, but once he had his mouth just barely above the water’s surface, a tinge of foul, rotten odor, simultaneously sweet, sour, and bitter, assaulted him. He squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath, and dipped his muzzle in for a deep gulp.

It wasn’t any better. It coated his tongue and freed him of any residual dust, but the taste was like bile—even worse when it went down his throat. It wafted to the back of his nose, lingering there. What he’d just downed threatened to rise back up. He shut his mouth tight and even grasped at the edge of his maw with his hands. He had to keep it down—otherwise, he wasn’t going to get any water at all.

It wasn’t enough. He needed a bit more water… It was water, right? He didn’t want to know for sure and just hoped that was the case—because, otherwise, he was going to be without water. And if he was getting hungry, then he’d just—shrivel up and die if he didn’t get something to drink.

He took another revolting gulp, this one slightly better than the last. Maybe his tongue had gone numb to it. Still, the aftertaste—the scent that battered the bottom of his head—made him retch.

That’s enough, right? he pleaded with himself, but he still felt thirsty. He wanted to cry. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he took another generous helping of red water, and finally jumped back, as if his very body was forcing him to reject any further attempts.

Three massive gulps. That was enough.

After spending some time recovering—and waiting for his stomach to settle at least somewhat—the Charmander got back to his feet and turned his back to the lake. Welcoming him was a long walk to towering plateaus. With his tiny legs and how far away it seemed, Owen feared it would take at least an eighth of the day… if he could tell the time of day!

Where’s the sun?!

Owen stared irritably at the sky, expecting to see some sign of what time it was, but there was nothing even hinting at it. Starting to lose his patience, Owen marched onward. It didn’t matter how long it took; he just had to go forward, thoughts about what had happened still swirling in his mind.

Another cruel gust of wind blew past. He shielded his eyes, waiting for the dust to settle; he wandered forward anyway, guided by a vague sensation that he had to keep going this way. Was something calling out to him, or was he just trying to convince himself that this way was accurate? He sensed that someone was there, in those plateaus.

The only other person he could think of that would be here would be Eon, one of the first to be claimed. But he wouldn’t want to see him, now—not after…

He couldn’t get the sight out of his mind. How helpless and desperate Eon was to get him back… surrounded by his mutants—his children… his soldiers… for a war that he never asked to be part of.

That he never…

Something about that thought didn’t settle right with him, much like the water in his guts.

Owen tried to think more on that statement, nearly stumbling when his foot sank partway into a false ground—it was actually just a pile of loosely collected dust in a pit as big as he was. After righting himself and making sure his ankle was okay, he continued around.

Didn’t ask to. Didn’t ask to. No, he did ask for that. But how did he ask that? When did he ask that?

I thought I was done with this memory nonsense!

He stopped briefly and huffed out a weak ember. Even his attacks weren’t like they used to be, so what if he’d somehow lost his memories, too? After all, every other time he became a Charmander, he had forgotten everything about having evolved.

At least I kept that this time…

How far had he gone? The lake was just a small, flat circle in the distance, and the plateaus were a lot taller, now.

The ground shook, dust scattered from a small shockwave thanks to the vibration alone.

All this dust would’ve been very distracting if he still had his Perceive. In fact, since he didn’t have that anymore… why did he still have a sense of where to go? This was different from the aura sight granted to him by Mysticism, and his Perceive. This was deeper, weaker, less… precise.

Another rumble disturbed the dusty ground. Those were becoming worryingly pronounced. Where were they coming from?

The plateaus towered above him like angry parents after getting a notice from school. They stared down at him, not mad, just disappointed, at how small and weak he’d become all over again. The plateau to his left was glaring particularly strongly. Owen quickly looked down, slapping his cheek. “Losing it…” he mumbled, and then startled himself at how hoarse his voice sounded. The lake was too far away, now, but maybe he didn’t get enough water after all…

Another rumble, and this time his heart skipped a beat. Either the source was becoming stronger and a volcano was about to explode, or an earthquake was coming, or—whatever was happening, or something was coming closer. Why did things always have to come closer? All his life, he felt like he was wandering around in the dark despite all the light his tail provided, and now he had looming shadows to run from, too.

No, that wasn’t any different, either, was it?

Owen quickened his pace, the empty, purple fields of dust sprouting a few new decorations, such as the stray rock or boulder. Undoubtedly, it had been chipped off from the plateaus and rolled all the way here from sheer momentum. Did rocks get a thrill from the way they rolled? It must have been exhilarating after spending so much time not moving. But it also must have been fast, too.

Owen stumbled over nothing and slapped his cheeks. Stay calm, don’t lose it! He didn’t know where those thoughts came from, but they felt so distracted and there was also a rock not too far ahead.

He took a few steps closer—it was black against the rest of the purple dust. Something to focus on before he went crazy, and he wasn’t crazy, he was just bored, and not crazy.

It was good to see you, little rock. It was starting to get boring with all the nothingness, and the lake had bad odor. But rocks didn’t have bad odor. At least, Owen hoped they didn’t. The Charmander squinted at this thought, slowing his pace and approaching a nearby pebble. He picked it up, giving it a curious sniff. No, no scent. That was good. Did it have a taste? Lick, lick. No, not much of a taste, but it did remind him that his tongue still felt dry.

Another rumble made Owen drop the small rock. More fell from the upper portions of the plateau, rolling and kicking up most purple dust when it hit the ground.

That wasn’t an earthquake.

Running on pure instinct, the Charmander scrambled to the largest rock that he could hide behind—thanks to his small stature, it wasn’t that difficult—and hoped that whatever it was wasn’t coming from behind. No, why would it? There was nothing but empty fields behind him.

A round boulder about the height of a Charmeleon was the first one that he deemed worthy of hiding behind. Panting and suppressing worried chirps, he waited for the next rumble and tried to gauge where it was coming from.

It didn’t take long. The next one was even stronger, and it was coming from the left and ahead. He peeked out from behind the boulder again.

Then he saw it.

It was about half the height of the plateaus—bigger than anything he’d ever seen moving before. Taller than Emily—at least three, maybe four times her height. Black, like a thick Smokescreen. It reminded Owen of a wraith. He only saw the front of it before he ducked back behind the boulder. It had something that vaguely resembled a head and neck, but where one began and the other ended, let alone where its shoulders were, was a mystery. Another rumble shook the earth, shaking Owen’s balance.

He dared to take another peek at the gigantic thing. From how far away he was, it was like staring at the Heart HQ from across town. Yet for that thing, it was probably only a few paces. And each pace was slow, shambling, and stumbling. Not every step it took made the ground rumble; it just happened to stumble now and then, falling over.

Four legs. It had four legs… he thought. Similar to the head and neck, its inky body didn’t have much of a definition for where its body ended and its limbs began. The same went for its tail. The movements… A cross between a quadruped and a Bug. Maybe he’d see something like that from Trina’s abode.

It was wandering toward the lake. That meant it was going away from Owen. Good. Maybe while it was distracted, he could hide in the plateaus instead. He still felt a nagging feeling to keep heading inside—and that was even more important now that something like that was behind him.

Slowly, he circled the boulder, peeking only to verify that it was still wandering in its predicted direction. Could it be friendly? Did he even want to risk that? His instincts screamed no, and he complied.

Still, he was paralyzed with fear. Maybe that was part of his instincts, too. If he made a sound, would it hear him? It was so big, maybe it wouldn’t. But there was no telling. He should wait until it was by the lake, which wouldn’t take too long. It was already halfway there, after all.

Owen held his breath, realizing that in the amount of time it took for him to get from the lake to the plateaus, the creature had passed along it in a matter of a handful of minutes.

Minutes. He remembered that metric. Owen rubbed his head with another suppressed groan.

The creature bent down, collapsing its front legs with another deep thud. Red water splashed in all directions from its knees as its head lazily dipped into the water. Did it have a mouth?

It surely must have. But the water didn’t splash near its head. It just… kept its head there, sucking the water in a steady stream. Owen watched, transfixed, still holding his breath, as its body swelled to an even greater size than before, gaining at least another of its heads in height. Its body became slightly more defined—though there hadn’t been much definition to begin with. Something that resembled muscular tone formed along its legs; the vague sense of hips and shoulders followed, but it was still of a Pokémon that Owen hadn’t seen in books, in person, or described in any way in legends or myths. Was it even a Pokémon? It was titanic…

Finally, it stopped drinking, raising its massive head—which still lacked definition, let alone a face. Tilting upward, the even larger creature stared at the sky. It let out a sound that was a mixture between a tornado’s wind and a demon’s scream.

What is that? What is that?! What’s it doing?!

It felt like Owen’s head was about to split open. He covered his head and curled up into a ball behind the boulder, but that wasn’t enough. The sound reverberated through his bones, shaking his arms and legs, pressed against his soft insides. He let out a ragged wheeze and breathed in sharply. The tightness in his chest came back with every heavy beat of his tiny heart. By the time the roar was over, Owen remained curled up behind the boulder, trembling and with a loud ringing in his ears.

Is it gone? I can’t hear. I can’t hear…

It was the most he could form in his head. Everything else was drowned in thoughtless, paralyzing fear. Everything was going dark again. Owen reminded himself to breathe, slow breaths, deep, steady. Just like his meditation. He closed his eyes, envisioning a small flame in the dark, flowing with gentle winds.

It’s gone. It’s gone and I’m too small for it to care about me. Maybe it’s just a bad dream. I’m hallucinating. I’ll open my eyes and it’ll be gone.

No, it’s definitely still there.

With his composure returned—but not quite his hearing—he stood back up and tried to steal another glance at the titan. It was following the river in the opposite direction. The relief that spread over Owen was enough to turn his legs to jelly.

On the ground, Owen was wise enough to keep from breathing in the dust this time—that’d be bad, after being so far from the lake. The call from the plateaus returned to him now that the terror had left.

Regaining his composure and his ability to stand, he ignored the fading ringing and continued away from the lake, stealing a glance or two behind him to make sure the titan hadn’t turned around. Thankfully, it never did.

Was he dead? What part of the spirit world was this? Could he die again? Did he have something to fear here?

Something primal was telling him that dying was dangerous.

He continued between the plateaus. He thought that they would have just been a narrow passageway, but the flatlands between each plateau were actually wider than even the training grounds of Hot Spot. Still, he was careful not to walk by either of them. After seeing how readily some of the rocks fell, walking along the walls seemed like a bad idea.

Every so often, he’d hear a distant rumble and freeze. Every time, the rumble became softer, rather than louder, and Owen advanced with a bit more relief in his breaths. Soon, he went past the first layer and looked to the left, then the right.

It was an entire forest of the things—that lake was just some sort of clearing. He was a tiny speck of sand among these rocky trees, and he wondered if climbing to the top of one would give him a better idea of where he could go next.

His instincts were telling him to go right again. Without any indicator of where else to go, he followed that vague feeling again. Though, this time, it felt more defined. Sharp. But where was it coming from this time? It almost felt like it was coming from inside one of them.

It felt like a dull itch on the top corner of his skull; Owen spun until he felt the that itch, like some kind of telepathic call, strike the center of his forehead. Yes, there.

The Charmander stared directly at one of the tall structures, imposing and insurmountable. The way the rocks curved outward the higher it went made for an impossible climb for his tiny limbs. Some of them felt like mountains that had been flipped upside-down.

There’s no way I’m going to die here, Owen thought to himself, trying to at least keep the pessimism out of his head. Those giants won’t find me, and they won’t eat me, either.

Owen wrapped his tiny arms around his body, suddenly feeling a chill despite his Fiery nature. Oh, Mew, did they eat Mom? Dad? Are the others here? No—no! They’re fine! They have to be fine. If I’m fine, they’re fine. I’m so much weaker than they are…

His stomach tied itself into a knot again; he groaned, one eye squeezing shut in a wince, while the other remained trained on the rocks, like there would be some kind of hidden passageway when he actually touched it. He had his doubts; while he lacked his aura sight, he doubted there would be an illusion of a wall out in the middle of nowhere.

Owen glanced at the sky again. Yes, still red. The rocks—none fell. He’d have to keep an eye on those, Owen thought. Just feel for rumbles, right? As long as there isn’t anything trying to chase me down, or…

He was afraid to, but he glanced behind him. Nothing. He breathed out a sigh of relief and stopped at the edge of the rocks. Putting that farfetched illusion theory to the test, he leaned against a stone. Solid, without a hint of give. No illusions there. He grabbed another, smaller pebble and wondered if throwing it at the wall would do anything different… or if it would break a loose rock off and injure him.

Best not to try.

He tried to focus on that vague feeling again. It wasn’t directly at the center anymore, but now that dull call was sharp, to his left.

A long walk across about an eight of the plateau’s circumference led him to the mouth of…

It’s a cave.

It occurred to Owen that perhaps this vague call was actually some kind of Psychic trap to draw in unsuspecting victims. His flame doubled in size just as another rumble shook the ground. It was louder this time. Above him, none of the rocks loosened or fell—not nearby, at least. The distinct thud of a larger boulder further away indicated that some other part had broken loose.

And then another boom, even louder than before, sealed Owen’s choice. It was coming closer. He couldn’t afford to get caught, trampled—eaten? Would it eat him? No, that was silly. He was too small for something like that.

…When was the last time he’d come across another living thing his size, anyway? The way there was no sun or any indicator of time passing, it could have been anything from hours to a couple days. He didn’t even know how long he’d been asleep.

The fatigue hit him again. He had walked more in this day or days than he had in the past moon, he was certain—perhaps, in part, because most of his travel had been with Waypoints. Those would have been nice to have. Or wings. Yes, wings would have been nice, Owen thought bitterly. What was worse, forgetting that he’d ever been a Charizard, or remembering it, and yet still being a Charmander?

Maybe ignorance really is bliss, he snorted.

A third rumble shook him from his thoughts. Without thinking, he scrambled toward the cave’s entrance. He pinned himself against the inner wall of the cave, breathing shallowly, and checked the interior for—

“SKRAAAA!”

Something leapt onto Owen’s back and jammed its fangs into his shoulder. Owen shrieked and slammed his back against the wall, which was barely enough to loosen it from his body. He spun around to see his assailant—another ink-black, amorphous thing, this time with two wings and a gaping mouth. The fangs, also black, had a small fleck of Owen’s blood on it.

The winged wraith lunged at Owen again, screeching. Owen dove to the right and swiped at it with sharp claws—probably all he had to work with, as far as he knew—and stepped back to gain some extra distance. The wraith screeched again and blew a gust of wind toward Owen, forcing the Charmander off his feet. He yelped and hit the ground in a rolling stop.

The feeling was sharper than ever. It felt like it was right behind him. But the wraith was a bigger worry. Despite landing its attack, it seemed even angrier than before, flying clumsily toward him. Owen puffed a gout of fire, but it evaporated early, leaving just a bit of heat haze to distract the wraith.

It closed in fast. Falling back to another reflex, Owen crossed his arms and braced himself. A golden bubble obscured his vision, his Protect shield as radiant as ever. The wraith bounced off of the shield with an ethereal thud. Taking advantage of its dazed state, Owen stomped on the ground and channeled a bit of energy into the floor. Then, he stepped back, losing his balance on something smooth and hard.

The Protect shield dropped and the wraith advanced again.

“Stop!” Owen shouted, like it would listen.

He focused on the spot he had stomped; a pillar of fire burst from the ground for a split-second, illuminating the small cave in orange light and engulfing the wraith in embers. It screamed again and flew in the opposite direction, out of the cave, and then into the air, even as another thud shook the entire plateau.

Owen breathed quickly, eyes darting left and right. Only his tail kept the cave alight. It was only ten, twenty of his paces deep, and he was already near a dead end of the cave. The entrance, a dim circle that felt so far away, revealed no further movement.

The wraith probably wasn’t going to return.

Hoping that he’d hear it if it did, Owen turned his attention to the strange, solid thing that had tripped him.

What’s… that?

The smooth object was a flat, rhombus-like crystal, a calm green. It was see-through, like colored glass, with a black symbol in the center. Curious, the Charmander prodded at it. The crystal sparkled a bit in response, which only heightened his curiosity. He shined his flame over it, and the orange light glistened against the radiant crystal. Owen finally picked it up, rolling the diamond in his hands; it was a bit too big for him to grasp with one hand completely; his fingers could only touch if he held it by the edges. Still, something about it fascinated him, and it was definitely what had been bugging him.

Odd. He didn’t feel much of that call anymore, now that he was holding it. He rolled it in his other hand, chirping curiously. Finally, he studied the odd, black symbol in the middle more closely. Within the transparent, green structure, the black symbol that reminded Owen of a leaf sat stoically.

Can I call on my Grass powers? Owen wondered to himself, focusing. As much as he didn’t like losing his Fiery pride, there was some practicality in it, if he could. He envisioned his flame sprouting into a beautiful flower, his scales becoming leaves. He held the crystal to his chest, like it would somehow help. When that didn’t work, he pressed it on his forehead. Nothing. He checked his tail—still a flame.

With a disappointed sigh, Owen finally sat down. The rumbles were softer again. It must have taken a different route. Was that another creature that he had to worry about?

He couldn’t stay in that cave for much longer. But now where was he supposed to go?

Now that he didn’t feel the dull call of the crystal, maybe he could focus on another. That had to mean something, right? It was all he had to go by. Crystal in hand, Owen stood up—ignoring his fatigue and the pain in his shoulder, and focused on… anything. He knew what it felt like once, so maybe he could feel it again.

He felt it. It was faint, but it was coming from the same direction as before, a vague, dull pull toward what Owen was going to call north. Was it actually north? Possibly, but he had his doubts. Perhaps this was how migratory flying Pokémon felt when going north or south. Did they have this dull, directional feeling, too?

One step after the next, Owen continued his march through the dusty wasteland. He juggled the risk of being spotted by one of those behemoths and being crushed by rocks from above. Any time a rumble became particularly loud, he slowed down and hid near a plateau or other fallen boulder, always keeping the nearest one in mind in case he had to run back to hide.

Aside from one incident where a bipedal one had paced across the path Owen had been taking, though, he didn’t encounter another one. For the best; Owen wasn’t sure if he even had the energy left to run. A quick walk was the best he could manage; his stomach was already contorting itself to feel full, and he still had no idea where the next source of water was coming from.

Something was tricking Owen’s eyes. It looked like there was actually an end to this madness further ahead—far, far ahead, but certainly a change in scenery. The network of plateaus ended with a long, black strip across the horizon, at least where there were big enough gaps between the plateaus to see past them. That was one thing to be thankful about in this field; despite how tall the stone structures were, the fact that entire fields separated them meant it was easy to see for miles.

Still, he didn’t go directly toward that black horizon. Something else was dully calling for him, and he had a feeling it was going to be another of those crystals. He looked at the one he still had in his possession; its green glow was a welcome change to the purples, grays, and reds that surrounded him.

Now, where was the next? A bit to his right this time, and it didn’t feel like it was at this plateau. Tedious. He had passed by so many of them that it was starting to feel the same.

After another long pass of a plateau—walking at his pace, he counted that he averaged about fifteen minutes each time, even longer to move between them—and then rounding the corner of the one ahead of the first, that feeling became sharper.

Why am I even chasing them down? This one doesn’t even feel the same.

That much was true. Unlike the green crystal, this feeling still felt dull even after how far he’d traveled to what he hoped was closer. So, why did he still feel the need to continue? Well, then again, the first time, he got a pretty rock out of it. Maybe this would be worth it, too.

Owen inspected his shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, but there was a clear, red stain running along his chest and, surely, down his back where the fang had punctured him. He’d wash it off… if he wasn’t worried about whatever strange substance the dirt was. He was not going to use the red water. It was already a struggle drinking it—putting it right into his blood stream? Pass.

More passes, an unknown number of minutes. Owen lost track of both the time and the times he’d passed across the fields. But eventually, he noticed that his sense of direction was pulling him in a different direction.

Here.

It was inside the stone structure, so it had to be another cave. The same process worked again, and this time he didn’t have any rumbling to scare him into running—which would waste precious energy. He glanced at his tail, not trusting his own sense of how much energy he had.

Oh, that’s bad.

It was at least at half its usual size. If he didn’t find water, or at least food, soon, he’d be dragging himself through the dust.

But maybe some of that was also because he didn’t sleep yet. He should have stayed in that old cave, but at least now, this was a new one. No matter what he found in this cave, he’d sleep… As long as he could scare off whatever wraith was taking up residence inside.

With that in mind, Owen took a slow, deep breath and prepared for battle. He still had Protect. He still had Fire Trap. That would be enough. At least he remembered those techniques, even if he wasn’t strong enough to use them at their best.

A cruel wind blew by, forcing Owen to brace himself and close his eyes to the dust. He felt a need to protect his flame, meaningless as the gesture was, until the wind settled down.

And to the edge of the mouth he went.

Okay. Just another wraith, maybe. And then the crystal. One… two…

Owen leaped into the cave, arms tensed and ready.

All of the fight left him in an instant.

Slumped against the wall, clutching at the largest of many wounds, was a green Gardevoir, staring at Owen with bittersweet recognition.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 78 – Back to Basics​

He couldn’t find the words, so he just stumbled toward her. It felt like even longer than the walk through the plateaus, but he finally collapsed into her lap. The first sound she made—a weak, entertained laugh—nearly made him break down, sobbing. It had been too long since he’d heard anything that even resembled another voice.

“Mom,” Owen blubbered. “I th-thought you—”

“Shh, shh…” Using her free hand, she rubbed the back of Owen’s head. Her voice was so faint that Owen tried to quiet his sniffling to hear her. “Are you okay?”

“I—I am now,” Owen said, rubbing his eyes. “Ugh, I dunno where this is! Mom, where’d you go? Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Amia said softly, scratching behind Owen’s head. He stretched and pressed against her, letting out a happy chirp. “Owen, are… you okay?”

“You asked me that already,” Owen said, laughing. “I’m okay, kinda. Oh, um, and I know I used to be a Charizard.”

Her eyes widened at that.

“I don’t get it, either. But, Mom, you—” He looked at her wounds, finally remembering them. It wasn’t just on her side. There were cuts and bruises all over her body, and some of them were still bleeding—especially the one by her side. “What happened?”

Amia shook her head. “Wraiths… I…”

That was all he needed to know. The way Amia’s injuries looked, compared to the single wraith he had encountered before, it seemed like she had suffered a lot more than a single one. Yet, she fought them all off!

Still… “I—I’ll go and look for some berries, or… There are berries, right? Somewhere?”

“No, no,” Amia said gently, reaching down. “I’ll be f…”

“What? You’ll be what?”

“I don’t need…”

“You do,” Owen insisted. “Please, do you know where any are? I’ve been looking for food, and I’ll find some for both of us!”

Amia hesitated, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s dangerous.”

“Well, it’s—” Owen felt the flame on his tail intensify. Dangerous? Everywhere was dangerous! Was she just trying to make sure he was okay because he was a little Charmander again? He was still in a better state than she was. “Just tell me.”

Amia bit her lip.

The words fell from his mouth before he had the chance to think about it: “Tell me, because it’s my turn to take care of you.”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, another dry, dusty wind blew across the cave, little purple clouds creeping their way inside.

“Forest,” Amia said. “There were a few…”

“A forest? That black stuff, off that way?” He pointed toward the wall.

Amia nodded weakly. “Please, be careful.”

“I will, but I need to get us food, and berries for you.” Owen stepped away, holding his crystal like it was a badge. He scanned the cave for something similar, but found nothing. Puzzled, he said, “Did you run into any of these things?” He held the crystal up.

Amia didn’t recognize it.

What drew him to her, then? Owen had his doubts it was something sentimental. It felt too tangible.

“Okay.” That didn’t matter. He still had to keep Amia safe, and if a wraith happened to wander in…

Owen stood up, taking a few paces away from Amia and toward the cave’s exit. There, he stopped and stomped his foot on the ground. Then, another, and another, a little bit of his power draining each time. He panted, but pushed through until he had stomped across the cave from wall to wall. “If anything tries to sneak in, they’ll hit one of my Fire Traps,” he assured Amia. “I’ll be fast!”

Amia looked like she was about to get up, but Owen saw her weakness.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Owen assured her. “You’ve… I don’t want you to get hurt more. Okay?”

After a long, reluctant pause, she sank back down.

Sparing one last glance behind him, Owen marched to the forest with renewed vigor.

<><><>​

Trina had prepared them for this, should it ever happen. It was one of their many drills—if something ever happened to her, or if she was away and something dangerous had approached, all of her Bug subjects knew where to go, what to do, what to wait for, and for how long.

Even with her gone, that plan remained.

Har rushed through the silken labyrinth, the silk now completely dark without any Mystic luminosity.

“Har!”

He spun around, greeting Ani. The Meganium jerked her head back. “Everyone’s kind of freaking out. Are you…”

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Har replied with a little grunt. “I almost got everyone coordinated to make sure they know what they’re doing. How’s the east sector?”

“They’re the ones freaking out.”

Har rubbed his forehead, growling. “Oh, come on. We went over the drills!”

“You’re the only one studious enough to remember them off the top of your head, Owe—er, Har.”

Har glared, but then felt his bag bumping against his side. He glanced at it, then at Ani.

“What’s wrong?” Ani asked. “Hey, you aren’t trying to Perceive me, are you?”

“No, I—I turned it off,” Har said, looking down. Indeed, he wasn’t reading them—it was rude, and they could tell by the glow of his flame when he was trying it.

“Good,” Ani said. “Anyway, um… Sorry about that.”

“Whatever, look—Is Lygo handling it? Where’s Ax?”

“They are. I just wanted to tell you it’s probably not gonna work until you go along, too.”

“Ugh, fine, fine. Everyone here is doing okay, so can you just make sure nobody’s wandering around while we’re on lockdown?”

Ani nodded, but then eyed Har’s bag. “So, what’s with that? Looks kinda overstuffed.”

Har clenched his jaws. “Nothing,” he said uneasily. “Trina just left me something, that’s all. And I’m starting to worry that it’s the last thing she’s gonna leave us.”

“Don’t say that,” Ani said, flicking his forehead with a vine. “Honestly. She’s way too strong to be taken down by some stupid whatever’s going on.”

“But since when did we ever just…” Har rubbed at one of his horns worriedly, the anxieties that he’d been shoving down in the back of his mind coming back rapidly. “Never mind, she’s—she’ll be fine. We’ll see if she comes back in the morning and, well, if not, we’ll… figure out our next steps.”

“Right.” Ani frowned again, looking at the bag. “So, seriously, what did she give you? Looks like a bunch of scarves.”

“Y-yeah, it’s nothing,” Har said. The scarves were supposed to give back Ani, Lygo, and Ax’s memories the moment they slipped it on. But it wasn’t an appropriate time to do that, was it? In the end, he was supposed to keep Trina’s subjects calm until she returned. Right now, returning all of their memories—what would that do to them? Was that necessary right now? Would he lose them? No—that part wasn’t important. It wasn’t fair to keep it from them, but if he just waited a little while longer—

A vine smacked him on the cheek.

“Gah!” Har rubbed his snout, waiting for another. When none came, he peeked out.

“You’re zoning out again! What’s wrong?”

“Did you really have to hit me?”

“I was jostling you! You didn’t respond!”

“Oh.” Har blushed beneath his scales. His flame shrank down shamefully. “Sorry. I’m just distracted. Can I tell you later? We need to focus on keeping the colony safe.”

Ani sighed. “Fine, fine,” she said. “But it looks like those are scarves for us, don’t you think?”

Har tensed.

“Why’d she leave those? Our old equipment is just fine.”

“Look, I need to take care of the east side, right?” Har said hastily.

Ani glared, not advancing, and Har felt frozen in place. It wasn’t until several seconds later that Ani moved past him. “Fine, tell us later.” She didn’t look back.

Har’s wings drooped and he nibbled at his tongue.

He wasn’t afraid of losing them. Getting distracted simply wasn’t good right now. Later. He’d tell them later.

<><><>​

“Go to room 4-C, the Bewear needs to have those bandages cleaned again. You, what’s the patient in 5-A’s status?”

“Stable. They’ll be fine on their own for now.”

“Good, then go to 8-E. Heal Pulse if you need to, and forget the berries, they’re useless.”

They headed out, and Incineroar grunted, looking frantically over a list written in scrawled handwriting. He left a small checkmark next to 5-A’s, the paper lit only thanks to a nearby Volbeat standing on the table. The rest of the room was barely lit by the glows of the brighter Pokémon nearby, like a Rapidash’s flames in the corner.

Several Pokémon shuffled in and out, testing the entryway to the hospital, either to bring more of the injured in, or to push out those who could be discharged—even if they hadn’t been fully recuperated. They couldn’t afford it compared to the most severely injured. Most of them had been from the training area; without a means to heal, intense sparring matches suddenly became lethal. And then there were injuries from nearby villages in the outskirts, outsourced to Kilo now that their basic berries were of no use, and their natural healers were rendered exhausted.

“Need me to adjust, Phol?” Volbeat asked, wiggling his rear.

“Yes. Don’t do that again,” the Incineroar replied. “I’m almost done. We’re low on healers. They only have so much energy.”

“Well, that voice in the sky said—”

“I do not care about that right now,” Phol said flatly. “I don’t care if the apocalypse itself is coming; I have patients to take care of, and if the world doesn’t end, they’re living to see the sunrise.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

A few more checks, and Phol was confident that he had finished it off for the patients in critical need of attention… except he knew that it was only going to tie them over until midnight. They needed more healers, but without any berries to replenish their energy, the healers would be outpaced by the injured.

“We need to send people out to gather volunteers,” Phol finally concluded. “Gather any spare hands and have them scout out. Bang on doors. Disrupt their sleep. I don’t care. We need healers, and I know more people will be coming in with fresh injuries once the night guard realizes their healing items don’t work. This is a code red.”

Volbeat stood there, along with a few others who had stopped to listen to Phol.

“Are you doing anything productive right now?” Phol said behind a growl.

“Well, er, we don’t really know what—”

“Then get out there and find more healers!” He slammed his hands on the table. “This is not a time to hesitate! People will die if we don’t act now!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Phol looked back at the list again, realizing that, with that complete, he had to find another use for himself. His eyes were heavy, but that didn’t matter. He’d worked long shifts before, sunrise to the following sunrise, even. Perhaps this would be one of those shifts.

Wasn’t there a Smeargle near this place? Yes, there was. Always up late with his art projects, depriving himself of sleep for the sake of his craft. But Smeargle could learn practically any move—and Heal Pulse, when it was possible, was incredibly popular to have on hand. Surely, he would know of it.

Not wanting to waste time, he looked back at the others. “Keep maintaining the critical patients. I’ll be back. I think I know of someone who can help here.”

He also thought about Spice, the Salazzle. She was a strange case; their berries didn’t work at all on her on the field, and that left permanent scarring on her body when she had finally been brought to Kilo Village. A rare sight. He remembered her talking about her vials of special, concentrated berries—her potions, she called them—that could heal her much more effectively.

Was she home? She could be useful, too. In fact, anybody from the south might. Before annexation, they didn’t have much in terms of blessed berries. Perhaps some of their old traditions still persisted.

One thing at a time.

Phol stepped out of the hospital and weaved to the side, allowing a Chimecho, two Gallade brothers, and a Clawitzer pass through, all of them channeling healing energy in their bell, blades, or claw.

That eased his mind enough to actually leave the hospital in the others’ hands. Kilo’s decentralized sense of leadership once the Hearts were out of the equation made it easy for Phol to take charge when he needed to. As much as the culture perplexed him—as he, too, had been raised by southern natives—it made it easy to step up and organize the others. Leaders and followers, no matter how it was officially outlined.

Most of the buildings were completely dark. A few luminescent Pokémon were a lot easier to spot, each one wandering around with aimlessness or at least a vague sense of purpose. Some utilized their techniques to light the way. He spotted a Blaziken maintaining the flames of a Blaze Kick to keep part of the street lit while they conversed with a few others. He was careful to stay on the dirt or stone roads rather than the grass.

Phol passed by the nearby grocery shop next, glad to see that most of the facilities there—aside from the lights—were still operational. A chilly frost emanated from the frozen aisles, and everything else seemed to be perfectly in order. But without Waypoints, Phol wasn’t sure how they were going to resupply it once their current inventory ran out.

And how would they get supplies out to the rest of the world?

Not only that… but all of the outskirts and remote villages scattered around Kilo, once connected by the Waypoint system—they were stranded. Those with Teleport could only do so much on their own.

But he would have to deal with that later.

“Angelo?” Phol called, hoping he got the name right.

“Yuh-yes?”

A golden light circled around the Smeargle’s tail, acting as some kind of illumination while he painted. Phol doubted it was efficient compared to working under proper light, but he wasn’t surprised that he had some kind of utility for when the lights went out. Perhaps he had gone a time without a Luminous Orb before.

“Do you know Heal Pulse?” Phol asked.

“Er, I do, but—my projects, I—wait, what’s wrong? Why do you need Heal Pulse?”

“The hospital needs anyone who can use the technique. You know how useful it is day-to-day. Come with me.”

“But my—”

“I’m not giving you a choice, Smeargle. Lock up your things and come to the hospital. What other techniques do you know? Can your kind switch between more than four?”

“Well, I’d need time to recall my forgotten ones, but—”

“What else do you know?”

Angelo hesitated. “I, er… Nothing particularly useful.”

Evasive. Bothersome. He didn’t have time for this. “List them out in detail when you’re not needed for healing. People are going to be pulling you left and right for your utility, understand? You aren’t an artist anymore. Time to save lives.”

“Bu-but I like my art, I—”

“Angelo, let’s go.” Phol reached out and grabbed the Smeargle by the arm, having barely enough courtesy to not smudge his current project, which seemed to be depicting a half-drawn Aerodactyl, and carried him over his shoulder and out of the building.

“But—but didn’t you hear that voice? What does it even mean? And those explosions, and the sky, and—I just don’t want to think about it,” Angelo rambled. “This must all just be some sort of big trick, or a bad dream. A-and when I wake up, it’ll all be over, like it never happened.”

“How ambitious of you,” Phol said with a low growl. “Are you even equipped with Heal Pulse now?”

“I—I’m switching to it now. Just give me some time to break it back in.”

“And you aren’t going to explain to me the list of techniques you have otherwise?”

“Th-that’s private! You don’t just ask a Smeargle about that; it’s like reading my diary!”

“…You keep a diary?”

“…No.”

They went past the grocery shop again, where a few nighttime dwellers stepped inside to see if everything was okay. The night-shift cashier, a Weavile, seemed nervous, sparing occasional glances outside and toward the starry sky.

Angelo, spotting this, also looked up while over Phol’s shoulder. “What’s going on with the world? It’s all gone insane…”

Phol stopped when he spotted a little Squirtle on the ground, thinking he was another of the injured in the streets. But he got up and continued running, so Phol advanced again. “It’s going to get a lot worse before we can find our footing again. We need to focus on lessening the impact right now, and we need your help for that, okay?”

Angelo whined, looking down. “I just can’t escape it, can I?”

“Responsibility? No, that’s life.”

“No, just…” Angelo sighed. “Never mind. Are we almost to the hospital? My chest is starting to ache from all the carrying. Your shoulders are very hard.”

“Comes with the species.” Phol adjusted the Smeargle, but something in the sky caught his attention. He hoped it wasn’t another strange light show. Between the pink explosion and the apocalyptic meteor shower, maybe the world really was coming to an end.

“Is that a Joltik?” Angelo said.

“…Joltik can’t fly.”

“That one has wings.”

“They don’t have wings, either.”

The Joltik landed in the middle of the main square, right next to the hospital and the now-defunct central Waypoint. Just what were they going to do with that main spire, now? Affix a light to it to guide fliers in? Maybe.

Speaking of fliers.

“A flying Joltik. What do you know?” Phol set Angelo down and pointed toward the hospital, but the Smeargle was too curious. He approached her as well.

“I think I drew you, once,” Angelo muttered. “Are you a rare subspecies of Joltik?”

“I’m the Fairy Guardian!”

“…R-right. Right. That’s good to hear.”

The tiny Joltik shook out her fuzz and folded her wings down. Even Phol couldn’t remain stoic when a Lucario, Porygon-Z, and Torkoal came tumbling out of that fuzz, followed by a pink mist enveloping them. They grew to their normal size, and the Joltik skittered onto the Lucario—who was collapsed on the ground.

“Can you heal him? He’s beat!”

Angelo pointed at Joltik. “H-how did—why did—”

“Heal him,” Phol said firmly.

“R-right, right. Sorry.”

Angelo grabbed his tail and made a motion in the air with it—a little circle. A pink orb formed. With another flick of his tail, like a tossing motion, the ball enveloped the Lucario, who seemed very familiar.

Passersby Pokémon murmured to one another.

“…Wait, isn’t that Elite Heart Rhys?”

“I dunno about Elite Heart, but he’s Rhys!”

Rhys groaned at his name being called, opening one eye. “What happened?”

The Torkoal—who might have been grown too large, since he was even bigger than the Lucario—poked his head out of his shell. “Are we at Kilo Village already? Oh, that felt like such a short nap…”

The Porygon-Z was motionless, though Phol recognized the appearance in his vacant and dim eyes. He was still asleep.

“Porygon-Z. Are you able to wake up?”

His head twitched. A feminine voice buzzed. “Initializing Hope O.S. Warning: Hope O.S. shut down abnormally during the last session. Boot in safe mode? Y/N.”

“Y,” Phol replied.

“Wait, what did you just tell it?” Angelo said.

“When a Porygon-Z is knocked out, they speak in a strange dialect that seems to be universal across their kind. Apparently, Safe Mode is the proper protocol when making sure they’re okay, because it keeps the rest of their selves in a safe place while we talk to some… base part of them.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“I don’t either. I’m just repeating what one of my colleagues told me about himself. The legend is that their kind came from humans, and humans, when they existed, spoke like them.”

“Creepy.”

Phol rolled his eyes. Rhys, meanwhile, got to his feet, using the Torkoal as support. “Thank you, Elder. Are you alright?”

“Yes, just fine,” Elder said. “Goodness, it’s dark. Is it morning yet?”

There was the smallest hint of blue in the otherwise black, white-speckled sky. It really was going to be a sunrise-to-sunrise shift. Exhaling through his nose, he turned his attention back to Elder. “Are any of you critically injured?”

“No,” Rhys replied. “Nobody with us. Are Waypoints truly destroyed?”

“Yes. Along with berries, orbs, seeds, and the vast majority of our medical supplies. It’s as if we’re in the south, pre-annexation.”

“Pre-what?” Joltik said.

“Before Anam spread his blessings, or whatever they are, there,” Phol clarified.

“Oh—Anam…” She looked away.

“Do you know where he is? We need him immediately.” Phol eyed Rhys, who was also avoiding his gaze. “What happened to Anam?”

“Anam’s… not able to be here at the moment,” Rhys said. “We need to organize everybody in Kilo Village as soon as we can.”

“But it’s almost morning and I didn’t get a blink of sleep,” Angelo said. “I—I know, I know, I’m going to focus on healing people, but—think about it. Nobody is going to remember what anybody says until it’s at least noon. It’s too late, er, early, to do something like this, don’t you think?”

“Hrmm…” Rhys and Phol exchanged a look. Then, the Lucario asked, “Willow, are you tired?”

“I’m Mystic! I don’t need to sleep!”

“Safe Mode boot complete.”

“Hope O.S., what was the cause of your shutdown?” Phol asked like it was a routine.

The feminine voice continued. “Checking logs. Cause of shutdown: Depletion of energy and disorientation due to a series of percussive blasts of Fairy, Normal, and Dragon energy at close proximity. Onslaught against unknown entity: ‘Dark Matter.’ General stress. Static electricity from a Joltik.”

“Current status?” Phol said.

“Normal.”

“Hrm. Alright. Restart normally.” He must have been a fast healer to not need a Heal Pulse to patch things up. He’d ask for the hospital’s digital duo, but they didn’t have the current shift, and he wasn’t sure where they lived.

“You do not have the necessary user permissions.”

Phol did his best to keep calm. “I am a doctor at Kilo Hospital. I have your best interests in mind. Restart normally.”

“You do not have the necessary user permissions.”

“Guess she doesn’t trust doctors,” Angelo remarked, shrinking away when Phol flashed a glare at him.

Rhys sighed, looking like he was ready to fall asleep again. “Restart normally.”

“Restarting.”

Phol’s left eye twitched, but felt no desire to press the subject. Moving on, he asked, “What were you saying about being Mystic? You aren’t related to the Aggron that snowed over half the crater, are you?”

“Oh, you mean Step? She’s mean! …But we’re friends.”

“Of course.” Phol wondered if most of this was some kind of sleep-deprived hallucination. Still, on the off-chance that this was real, he motioned for Angelo to head into the hospital.

“Rhys, do you know Heal Pulse? I believe your kind are also capable of learning it.”

“Er—not immediately,” he said. “I could channel my aura toward it if you give me time.”

“Please. Healers of all kinds are needed right now. I suspect we will have a lot of injured coming toward Kilo Village on foot.”

“On foot…” Rhys frowned deeply. “We need to find a way to help all of the villages that used to be connected by Waypoint, immediately.”

“Oh, oh! I know! What if I shrank down the villages and flew them here?”

“Do we even have the necessary housing and shelter for that?” Rhys said. "I don’t think we do. Willow, even if you can carry them, I’m not sure if you’d be able to help them once they arrive. How long does that shrink magic operate for?”

Phol decided to not ask why a Joltik was capable of shrinking people. “Can she do it in reverse and make something increase in size? Is it permanent?”

“No, and no,” Willow said, sticking her upper half in the air. “Making things bigger is dumb unless I’m the one that gets to be bigger.”

This is who I have to work with. Phol growled. “Fine. What about shrinking supplies and flying them over, and then returning them to normal size?”

“Oh! I can do that!” Willow nodded. “That reminds me of the Poké Ball things that Owen told me about from Brandon’s place!”

Rhys looked like he had just had the life sucked out of him, but Phol didn’t understand a word of what the strange Joltik said. “Whatever it reminds you of, put it to use here. I have to check on a few more patients, and then, when I’m sure everything is at least okay, I’m taking a power nap.”

“Mrm, perhaps I should do the same again,” Rhys said. “ADAM, are you awake?”

“Systems operational.”

Phol tilted his head. Porygon-Z’s voice had changed. That was odd, but then again, so were all of them. “And how are you doing, Hope O.S.?”

“I believe that is just some sort of code name,” Rhys said. “He prefers to be called ADAM.”

“Mm, right. Well, if you can help out at all, do what you can. Direct anybody who needs healing to the hospital, and if you find any others who know Soft-Boiled, or Heal Pulse, perhaps even Morning Sun, any techniques like those are welcome.”

ADAM buzzed. “Parameters accepted.”

With that settled, Phol returned to the hospital to make sure Angelo wasn’t loafing about, dreading the potentially endless wave of injured Hearts and explorers that would come to Kilo Village.

<><><>​

The flight from Hot Spot to Quartz HQ was long, cold, and tense. Step considered several times whether it would be a good idea to simply drop Nevren from her back right then, but she figured he would just Teleport. His lucky charm, whatever it was, unnerved her. Several times she said something and it seemed like he already knew what she would have said.

Psychics. How invasive. Can you hear these thoughts, Alakazam? Know that when your guard is down, I can kill you.

But Nevren did not acknowledge, nor react, to her. Instead, he seemed focused on the increasingly-distant void in the sky, which had thankfully stopped its expansion.

Step finally landed when Nevren directed her to where Quartz HQ was from memory. Because of course Nevren would have the memory for traveling to this place without Waypoints. Step snorted out another frosty plume and landed on the blackened ground. Her legs sank into the darkness. She tumbled forward with a surprised shout, slamming her hands in next. “Ugh!” She spat a beam of ice to right herself, pulling her legs out next. She used a platform of ice to more evenly distribute her weight.

“Fascinating,” Nevren remarked, using Psychic energy to float above the darkness. “I don’t think this is a wraith, as I don’t sense the same malevolent aura coming from it, but I certainly sense… Ah! It’s Nate. Hello, Nate.”

“Nate? Is that not the Dark Guardian?”

Just then, several eyes on the ground opened, each one staring at Step and Nevren. It was a field of them, reflecting what little light came from the early morning sky. They all blinked randomly and independently of one another. An arm rose from the darkness and waved at the Aggron and Alakazam.

Step stared without a change in her expression. “Hello, Nate.”

Hello… The arm flopped back down into the rest of his mass.

“Why are you outside, Nate?” Nevren said. “And, er, you seem to be a bit… flattened.”

I’m a little tired.

“I can see that.” Nevren leaned forward, looking at one of the eyes. The lid was halfway closed. He heard several tired groans and murmurs from all over Nate’s body. “Why are you tired?”

I had to stop Dark Matter.

“Ah. I see.” Nevren knew that the strange, ultra-powerful Dragon attack was from Anam, and Judgement was certainly from Arceus—his tower they had seen when flying to Quartz HQ—but the final attack… “I did not expect the Dark Guardian to know Light of Ruin.”

Light of what?

“An ancient attack,” Nevren said. “I’ve been able to emulate it somewhat with some of our technology, but not organically. Nate, who are you?”

I’m Nate.

Step’s eye twitched. “That isn’t what he meant and you know it.”

Sorry, I don’t know. I’ve always been this way.

Step was growing increasingly impatient. “Then perhaps it is hidden behind a Divine Decree?”

“I’m not so sure,” Nevren said, frowning. “Nate… Are you familiar with that attack at all? Where you got it from?”

Nate was silent, perhaps pensive. Step couldn’t tell.

No. I woke up one day in the Chasm. I always felt like I had to stay there, because… Because.

“Well, I suppose that explains why it was so easy to convince you to move,” Nevren said. “Hrm. Regardless, we need to head inside. Stay safe, Nate. Return inside when you have the energy, but we need to—”

Something was making muffled shouts from below.

“Nate, are you smothering someone?”

Oh. Sorry.

His body weakly shifted around, arms and various other limbs pulling something out from below. Lavender, in his base form, let out a deep gasp and said, “Father!”

“Ahh, Lavender.”

Step tensed, entering a battle stance. She still remembered the last time they had met and she wasn’t about to let herself be caught off guard again by this monstrosity.

Lavender seemed to remember, too, and he shrank away, eyes glowing cyan.

“There’s no need to fight, you two,” Nevren said. “We’re allies here, yes?”

“Was that a joke?” Step said in a low growl, slamming her tail down. That hit several of Nate’s eyes, making him wince and jiggle. She grumbled to herself and stomped over Nate as quickly as she could, following Nevren into the main entrance.

The white halls unnerved Step after having flown over a completely blackened Kilo. Luminous Orbs had completely disabled themselves, so why was Quartz HQ still operational?

That left her thinking back to what had happened in Hot Spot. How everyone had simply fallen or fled. That pathetic, gooey dragon getting possessed by Dark Matter. Some world leader he turned out to be.

“Why are these Orbs still working?” Step asked.

“Hm? Ah, Elder actually made them, not Anam. Perhaps that is why.”

“Elder? Then he can replenish our supplies?” Perhaps that was why he was so useful to them. That oversized Torkoal had no fighting spirit in him; his power had been dedicated toward blessings instead.

“Unfortunately not. He made these Orbs over the course of… decades, really. He doesn’t have the power to make more than one for several days.”

“Then this was a slow preparation in case Anam revoked your blessings,” Step deduced.

“Ah, sharp. Very sharp,” Nevren said, smiling back at her.

Step slammed her tail on the ground irritably again, her anger bubbling in her icy chest. She wanted to summon her spirits to assist in the fight, but what would have happened to them if a wraith attacked? There was no telling. She already lost her family once, and she didn’t intend to lose it again.

She hadn’t checked on them in a while.

Ra. Is everything okay?

Wraiths are trying to attack our realm, but…

It’s too cold! Cent chimed in next. We’re just blowing them back!

Oh, and Alex is frozen. Um, what do we do with him?

…Frozen how?

He’s just sorta there. He stopped moving a while ago.

Step rubbed her forehead, ignoring Nevren staring at her. Put him to the Ice Core. Amia is missing, so he is my spirit for now.

With that out of the way, Step glared at Nevren again, her eyes anything but friendly. “I’m only here to keep an eye on you. If you try anything questionable, consider yourself shattered in ice.”

“I understand.”

Lavender plodded behind, keeping his head down despite being taller than both of them. “Then why are we here?”

“First, we need to reset the auras of anybody who may be going berserk from the undue stress. Were you taught the Reset Wave from Amia or Rhys?”

“No.”

“Ah. That makes things difficult. I suppose only I will be able to do this, then. Alternatively, you could kill them.”

Simultaneously disgusted and unsurprised, Step snarled at him. “You would kill your own creations?”

“It’s not quite killing if we control their revival process. It’s simply a Reviver Seed with extra steps, hm?”

“You treat death as if it has no consequence.”

“For us? It does not.” Nevren glanced back. “How is your dead family doing?”

The Aggron stopped walking and Lavender bumped his beak against her back, stumbling. He mumbled an apology, but Step ignored it. Instead, she slammed her tail against the wall, her toe claws digging into the marble. “Do not get smart with me.”

“I apologize.” Nevren turned around and bowed his head. “Will we continue?”

She waited for another remark, but none came. She retracted her claws from the ground and glanced at her tail; it had cracked from the impact. After some focus, the ice repaired itself.

“I will freeze any troublesome mutants and you can reset them.”

“Lavender, will you help?” Nevren continued down the corridors again.

“Oh, um, okay,” he said. “Actually, um, when we can, is it okay if we go to the incubation floor? Auntie Rim’s there, and…”

“Rim?” Nevren asked. “Is she overseeing the reviving Pokémon?”

“No, um—” Lavender pawed awkwardly at the ground, talons scraping against the tile. “She’s… in one.”

That one stopped Nevren. “In one.”

“Um, when Star attacked, and she took Auntie Rim’s Orb, something bad happened to her.” His voice quickened with every word. “She was fading, and Dad said to take care of her, so the only thing I could think of was what happened to others when something bad was happening to them, and—”

“Is she okay?” Nevren cut in.

“I don’t know!” Lavender said, beak trembling.

“…Did the machine give any warning messages?”

“No. It’s making her aura and body now.”

“Hrm… Very well. On our way down, we will stabilize any mutants we see, and . . . “

Step had lost interest in the conversation. She could care less about what strategies Nevren and Lavender had for neutralizing mutants. She would just find the ones she could, freeze them if they were acting up, and move on. Simple.

A Druddigon rounded the corner ahead, staring at Step with wide eyes. “G-Guardian?!” he said, but then entered an uncertain battle stance. “I—you’re not allowed here! Go away!”

“Move aside, whelp.”

Step didn’t pause her walking. She saw the weakness in his eyes. When they weren’t in their ‘battle modes,’ as Owen had called it, they were nothing but docile children and not worth her time.

“Nuh-no! That’s not allowed!” The Druddigon fanned out his wings and bared his fangs, blue cinders falling from his jaws.

Step continued walking, staring him down. His body tensed further, but the tentative step back told her all she needed to know. Once she was a few paces away from him, the Aggron lowered her body and snarled, clouds of ice billowing out of her mouth.

Druddigon screamed and ran down the left hall.

The Aggron rose again and snorted. “Pathetic, all of them,” she said. “Shame on Eon for enlisting these innocents.” She then glanced back at Nevren, still planning with Lavender, who struggled to understand the full scope of his instructions. “…And shame on you for coordinating it all.”

In an effort to clear her head, Step wandered the halls and eventually found a peculiar dead-end with a number on the wall. One. She stared at it suspiciously, waiting for it to do something like the rest of this absurd place. Someone was behind her—she sensed their irritating life energy—but she waited for them to speak. Nervous? They were probably nervous.

“U-um, d-do you need help?”

Nervous. Step huffed a small plume of cold mist. “What is this? I do not trust it.”

“Um, it’s a wall, and if you say a number between one and ten, it’ll bring you to that floor.”

“Bring me?”

“Yeah, using Nevren’s teleportation. He’s really good at that. I even saw him make a portal once!”

Step finally turned her head to look at the speaker. Another abomination: This one was a Donphan with the red cheeks of a Raichu and the shell of a Magcargo. What a sad existence. Did they even enjoy living that way?

“A-are you okay?” the abomination asked, shrinking back.

“Are you?” Step asked.

“Not anymore…”

A tense silence followed, and then Step turned around to completely face the thing. “Tell me,” the icy Aggron demanded, “do you enjoy being what you are?”

“Excuse me?” it asked with a squeak. Electricity crackled in its cheeks and flames sputtered out of its shell. “I don’t understand.”

“Being what you are. This fusion of… I am going to guess three Pokémon. Fighting a war you do not fully understand. Losing your mind and your self to battle. Is it a happy way to exist?”

But it all went over its head. Step saw no recognition in those mindless eyes. It just shook its head and tried to move past her, but her body was too wide for the halls. “I just want to go,” it said.

“Hmph.” Step moved to the side. “Leave, then.”

“I think Dad’s nice,” it went on.

“Eon, the Hunter?”

“He just wants to save the world.”

“The world is collapsing.”

“Well, he could fix it!”

Oh! It had enough courage to speak up! Step could respect that, at least a little. Perhaps they were not so docile after all. “Why do you fight for him?” Step asked. “What has he given you?”

“He… cares for us.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t understand what you mean…”

Step let out a slow breath again. “How does he care for you? He feeds you? He plays with you? Do you genuinely think he loves you?”

“I… yes? I don’t know what you mean.”

This was growing tiresome. Why did she even bother? They were all under his cult and they were his leader; they had been created, cultivated, and indoctrinated with no perspective of the outside world. Of course it wouldn’t understand.

Maybe she could get some use from it yet. “Never mind,” Step said. “Is there anything interesting on the other floors? I am weary of the first.”

“Um, well, the dining hall is on the fifth floor, and my room is on the third floor, um… Did you ever go in a Poké Ball before? The ninth floor has a bunch of those.”

A place like this must have had a more interesting location than silly spheres and a place to eat. “Where is the Dark Guardian kept?”

“Oh, Nate? Eighth floor. It used to be one of the sparring rooms, but since he’s so huge, we had to put him there instead…”

None of that was useful. “What’s the most important floor?” Step asked.

“U-uhh… well…”

“The deepest? Ten?”

The way it refused to speak afterward said all she needed to know. She closed her eyes and stepped away. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude. Please, you may go.”

With a relieved sigh, he bumped against the wall and said, “Three,” and disappeared.

If Step had to make a guess, the place where the mutants were grown was on the tenth floor. She stepped toward the wall, staring at the ‘One’ that taunted her. Very well, Eon. Let’s see how blasphemously you’ve toyed with death…

“Ten.”

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 79 – A New Day​

They were like transparent pillars in a great, unholy palace. The dark gray plating on the floor and ceiling greatly contrasted the white tile that the rest of the facility displayed. Most of them were empty, but several of them bubbled ominously with lumps in varying levels of development floating inside.

A long hall of green cylinders greeted Step upon entering the main lab. Ten floors underground, past a long hallway, into a dimly lit room. Step looked between the empty cylinders, a scowl on her face. The urge to destroy every last one made her tail twitch and her claws flex, but her daughters and her mate kept telling her to hold off and focus on what mattered.

One of the cylinders was full of a thick liquid. Floating inside, curled with its wings wrapped around its tiny body, was a Noibat. She puffed a small cloud of ice at the container, enough to get his attention. But it didn’t care, curling back up.

“So, this is another mutant, still in its larval stage? Is that what you are?” Step asked, but it either did not hear or did not care. “Fine, ignore me.” And it did.

Mom, are you okay? Cent asked. You’ve been really… um, you know, agitated. Like, craaazy agitated.

It’s not that bad, is it? Kana added. Like, we cheat death all the time, kinda. We should be across the aura sea.

Ra was next. Step, what are you trying to accomplish by going down here? Destroying these things wouldn’t help anyone right now. We could use this army to fight Dark Matter.

That, Step said, is why they still stand. The sole reason I have not reduced the entire southeast of Kilo into a new tundra.

Geez, Mom, bring it down a few notches, Kana said. This is all kinds of extra.

I just need to see what we’re dealing with, and—Step abruptly stopped and turned her attention to the right. The aura felt familiar, but two things were odd about it. Firstly, unlike all of the other Pokémon in these incubation cylinders, this Pokémon was being formed into a fully evolved state. And second, the aura suggested there was a piece of Mysticism already within it—but a small amount. A Hunter.

It was small and lumpy, more like something vaguely plant-like. Draped in a thick, purple veil and hiding some vulnerable center, it vaguely reminded Step of a Cheri Berry.

Step approached the cylinder to get a closer look, making sure the tiny form wasn’t actually of something familiar. She wasn’t that knowledgeable about all the species of the land; this one, perhaps she’d encountered one long ago, but the name escaped her.

Thankfully, Cent knew. What’s so special about that Cherrim, Mom?

It’s a Hunter, I think.

Eh? In there? Weird.

“Step?”

Nevren walked down the hall, head cocked to the side.

Step grumbled and backed away from the cylinder. “Who is this?”

“Hm? Just another mutant, I imagine,” Nevren said, and then motioned behind him. “I finished my headcount, if you’d like a report.”

Step eyed the cylinder suspiciously, but with everything going on, this was the least of her problems. And he was right—she wanted to know if there were any mutants she would have to take care of. “Go on.”

Nevren motioned for her to follow, which she did, out of the cylinder chambers and back into the halls of Quartz HQ. “Seven mutants are still unaccounted for,” Nevren said. “A trio and two duos.”

“Unaccounted. What does that mean?” Step said. “That they aren’t in the facility, and are therefore running rampant somewhere in Kilo?”

“According to the aura logs, one pair had left recently, perhaps yesterday. Another had been missing for quite a while—he could be anywhere in Kilo by now. And the last pair, there’s no log of them being gone for longer than the day. A recent disappearance.”

“Your mutant escapes are so commonplace that you have to track and log their auras?” Step said with a snarl.

“Yes. As I said before, it’s not ideal, but it’s also the only way we could have fixed the issue with their slipping sanity now and then. If we notice a mutant has gone missing, we simply recover them.”

“I believe a proper solution would be to simply kill them.”

“Ah, that would also be useful,” Nevren said, nodding.

Step stared, wide eyed for only a second, before she returned to her original snarl. “You don’t even care about them?!”

“I care about them deeply,” Nevren replied. “Killing them would deliver them back to the Reincarnation Chamber. It seems that despite everything, that is still operational. Quite curious.”

“Reincarnation—” Step stopped herself, still wondering what part of Nevren she was supposed to be outraged about. The fact that Nevren was cheating death so easily—something about that angered her to her very core—or how nonchalant he was about it all.

In the back of her mind, it seemed hypocritical, since nearly everyone among them had cheated death long ago. But this felt different. This felt… blasphemous.

“I’m leaving.” Step moved ahead of Nevren, making sure her tail swept him off of his feet. Her irritation doubled when he simply tucked his legs in midair, floating in place in a Psychic half-jump.

“Now, hold on,” Nevren said, though he made no effort to pursue her, nor did his voice hold any urgency. “If you’re going to leave, I recommend you at least take a communicator with you.”

“A communicator?” Step swung around again, going for another sweep, but Nevren once again dodged out of the way. The icy Aggron went for a swing this time, aiming to graze Nevren’s mustache. He didn’t even flinch, staring at Step. “After everything you’ve done?” she said, undeterred.

What’s with this guy? Cent said within Step’s Orb.

No kidding. Nothing fazes him! Kana replied.

Perhaps he’s reading her mind, Ra theorized.

The thought didn’t bode well with Step; it only made her want to get out faster. If Nevren wasn’t going to respect the privacy of her own mind… Tell me, Alakazam, can you hear my thoughts now? Know that you only live because the mutants cannot be contained without your help. If your usefulness fades, then so will the light in your eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me for quite a while,” Nevren said.

Oh, he’s totally messing with you, Kana said.

The Alakazam tilted his head. “Is something the matter?”

“Give me the communicator. I will tell you when I’ve eliminated the mutants.”

“Do you even know where they are?”

“I’d rather search aimlessly than spend another second here.”

“Ah, I see. Very well.” He handed Step the silver badge. “Take care.”

“You aren’t even going to argue against me leaving?” Step said.

“No, I believe you intended to come here on your own volition. I never requested you to follow.”

Don’t fall for it, Mom! Kana said. It’s reverse psychology! He wants to keep you here!

But wouldn’t keeping an eye on him be a good idea? After all, he’s a traitor. Ra hummed. And I—oh, Step, hold on.

Um, called another voice—Alex. Now that he was an Ice Spirit, the cold of the region didn’t bother him. Step, I’m sorry to intrude on the family gathering in your Core, but I wanted to deliver some news?

Step tilted her head upward, earning another curious inquiry from Nevren, but she ignored it. Yes, Hydreigon? How are the wraiths?

Er, right. Everything is fine now. I don’t think the wraiths will be bothering us any time soon… It seems that the last of them gave up.

Gave up? Good. Keep an eye on the border until then. Step paused, then said, And I haven’t found any news on your mate. I’m sorry. Have you learned anything new on your side?

No… Thank you. But nobody has entered the Ice Realm aside from wraiths.

Mm. Take care.

Nevren came back to her attention. She glared momentarily, then said, “The wraiths have stopped attacking my realm. I imagine the same can be said for the others.” She frowned, then, and considered what that could actually mean. “…Give me more communicators. I will fly to Kilo Village to give them to the surviving Mystics.”

“A good idea.” Nevren dug through his bag. “And that means, I imagine, that you weigh the priority of communicating with them higher than any antics I may pull here.”

“You’re taunting me.”

“Merely stating a fact.” He handed her a small sack of the badges. “I’ve made quite a few of them just in case.”

“Then you hoard just like Rhys. The only difference is you create your own mess rather than collect it.”

Nevren merely shrugged. Step wrenched the bag from his claws, then angrily looked it over. Holding it would be cumbersome, and she didn’t have a bag on her otherwise to strap around her neck.

“Having trouble?” asked Nevren.

“No. I will manage.” She coated the sack in frost, then planted it on her chest. She focused… Soon, it sank into her body, the bag frozen within the outer layer of her icy form.

“Fascinating,” Nevren said under his breath. “You really are just made of Ice.”

You know, if that came from Owen, I’d think he was giving a compliment, Cent said. But from him, it feels more like a veiled insult…

Maybe you should give him a solid kick before you go, Kana suggested.

Ra said nothing, neither objecting nor encouraging her.

“Bah.” Step turned around, aggressively sweeping her tail near Nevren. He stepped over it wordlessly. “Manage this place as you like. Just know that if I am displeased, you will regret it.”

“Understood.”

“…One final question,” Step said, thinking about everything that she had seen in this laboratory. The mutants, the experiments like Lucas and Lavender, the Reincarnation Machines, those all seemed to make some sense. The one thing that didn’t—the one abnormality that seemed off…

“How is this place powered?” Step said.

“Ah, a few spare spirits,” Nevren said. “In part. Eon provided a significant portion of his life force along with Elder, but it seems that Eon’s had faded considerably. Elder’s alone remains for that portion of the provided power.”

“Elder… A mere Hunter was capable of providing that essence?” Step turned around again, this time intrigued enough to humor Nevren with a neutral expression. “Can Hunters confer blessings?”

“Not usually, no, which is why I’m quite surprised Elder was capable of it. Then again, it isn’t as if being able to enchant things is unheard of. Elder is just the only Hunter without an Orb that can do it on his own.”

Something about that didn’t add up to her. Um, wait, Alex said. This lab has been around for a lot longer than they had Orbs. How did they…?

“What powered it before Eon got an Orb, then?” Step asked.

“Ah, aside from Elder, there was a bit of Owen’s life force powering it, too, as well as some spirits that we eventually turned into future mutants. From there, it became a cycle of spirits used for power before they moved along to bodies… And then those bodies that died, the spirits returned to their artificial Orb, you could call it, and . . .”

Every word—Step stopped listening after a while—made her icy blood boil more and more. She eventually wanted to hear none of it and spun around, slamming her tail against the wall. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Step didn’t look back, but she saw his shadow waving at her.

<><><>​

Compared to the plateaus, the tall trees of the blackened forest were less intimidating, yet somehow even more sinister. The plateaus stood tall and rigid, and even though they were wider at the top, it wasn’t as if they leaned over anything. These trees creaked at any movement Owen made. Their tall, thick trunks twisted and turned on their way toward the sky, and the branches were gnarled and jagged like loose brambles.

The tangle of rigid branches blocked most of the sky, and occasionally Owen would happen upon a fallen one. None of them had leaves, or if they did, they had fallen away long ago, joining the uncomfortable, damp ground. The mud-like dust went at least up to his ankles.

On his way to the forest, his nose—ever-sensitive thanks to the lack of any real smells in this wasteland—had picked up on the mouth-wateringly tantalizing smell of something cooking. Perhaps he had hallucinated it, but he knew, for just a whiff, he had smelled something savory. If he was lucky, that meant there were others nearby, perhaps some actual civilization! But he didn’t want to risk it or get distracted, and there was no telling if they would actually be friendly.

Amia had said she’d found berries in the forest. He wasn’t about to go off to another village and defer to their advice or help. He was supposed to be more independent, after all. And for once, he wanted to save someone all on his own, not relying on the decisions that other people made. More rationally, he had his doubts that a wasteland like this would leave others with food to spare.

And the berries would be free if he got them from the forest, and would guarantee that Amia would be healed. He just had to hurry. She was strong… but he didn’t want to leave her alone like that for long. The Fire Traps would protect from one wraith, but what if there were several?

The loud, dry crackling of a twig under Owen’s foot startled him out of his thoughts. He nearly spat out an ember on reflex, but suppressed his shock and took a deep, calming breath. He looked behind him and saw the edge of the forest. With how densely packed the trees were, he wasn’t sure if he should venture too far in. He’d be better off searching for berries near the edges.

No telling if wraiths loomed deeper inside, anyway. Amia had been injured the same way.

Berries, berries… Owen scanned his immediate area and found nothing. Would dead trees even provide anything? Owen looked at his green crystal again. It was a strange, perhaps random thought, but what if he could use whatever sense guided him to the crystal, and to his mother, to find berries?

Eyes closed, Owen focused on his surroundings. Perceive or not, he had some strange sense. He felt the crystal in his hands. That was always present. But he had felt Amia, too, even with that in his possession. What else was out there?

He remained motionless, but all he could see was the black cover that came from his eyelids. So, he stood for a while longer, searching, but still, nothing.

Eventually, he frowned and opened his eyes. He’d have to keep track of how far he went while searching. A little deeper wouldn’t hurt. He just had to keep his senses sharp. The flame on his tail would only draw attention; any dark areas would be best avoided.

He was meticulous, counting the number of steps he’d taken. Every hundred, he’d take ten deeper into the forest and then go back the other way for another hundred. After several of those, not finding anything, he instead took two hundred steps and swept across another segment of the forest, brushing along the very edge of the thicker perimeter before returning a few layers within.

His stomach tied itself into another knot, and this pang of hunger was enough for him to double over and wince. He had to find food soon—no, he had to find berries. And save a few for Amia. An apple would be nice, too.

He stepped over another twig, but accidentally lost his footing, crunching it. It reminded him of candy, those little, flaky wafers back home that he’d buy from Sugar ‘n Spice. They had once offered him one of their special menu items for being such a regular customer—Everything Nice, they called it.

It was just one of every item.

But he had taken the offer, and that crunchy wafer was one of his favorites. In a daze, Owen picked up the twig, inspecting it. What if…

Maybe just…

He’d read about it…

But that wasn’t from normal bark, was it? He had to get to the core of the tree. A nibble on the fallen branch confirmed it; tasteless, dry—Owen wasn’t sure if he could properly chew it, even if he tried. Bits of it got caught between his teeth, under his tongue… Owen struggled to get most of it out, but his mouth was so dry.

He had to get it from the core of a tree. Thankfully, there were tons of them. But would any of them hold edible wood? He could at least try.

He approached the nearest one and ran a claw along the rough edges. He pried off a bit of the bark, only to see more solid wood inside. He’d probably need to actually use his claws for this one.

Could he tap into Metal Claw again? It had been a while, but he still remembered having to use it a few times. He could’ve done it to get to Zena’s hidden abode, had Demitri not headbutted his way in. For someone so mild-mannered, he really did think with his muscles when presented with an obstacle…

Maybe channeling some of that was a good idea.

Owen squeezed his claws, searching for that old energy. Steel-gray light collected at the edges of his tiny fingers, concentrating to a fine point. He drew his arm back, crouched down, and swung.

He felt something wet on his claws and his heart skipped a beat. It was either blood or tree sap. Oh, please let it be tree sap.

Nothing red against his orange scales. He looked at the tree. It was bleeding instead—a thin, reddish liquid, akin to the lake. His tail dimmed a bit at that, but still, it was liquid. It was water—maybe. Owen ran a finger along the tree and inspected it, giving it a tentative taste.

Nasty.

But it wasn’t any worse than the lake water, and compared to shriveling up, it was just what he needed. He tore off a piece, digging into the softer, reddish wood beneath the tough bark, and pulled out a long, thick strip. It dripped in his claws, and some primal part of Owen forced him to nibble at the bottom so nothing reached the ground. The ground didn’t need this water, he did. Even if it tasted awful. Actually, it was starting to taste tolerable. Not good, but tolerable.

He sucked at the bottom of the bark, waiting until the wood was dry enough to pull away from. That wasn’t nearly enough water. He’d need to get a little more.

The tree was bleeding too much. It was trickling down the rough bark and toward the dirt.

What if it ran out?

Owen lunged at the base of the tree and stuck his tongue near one of the little rivers, relief washing over him once it had stopped the flow. He ran further up, eyes crossing as he got closer to the source, and swallowed.

Good. All taken care of. Oh, the aftertaste. Owen tried his best to keep from wincing, but no matter how thirsty he was, that bile-like taste wasn’t going to go away like magic.

He pulled away once the liquid’s flow slowed, returning to the piece of bark that he’d taken. It was a lot easier to chew—and a lot softer—and he hoped it at least provided him with a little bit of energy.

He munched on the tough, yet soft bark like it was hard taffy. It was starting to taste like taffy, too. Bad taffy, but—sweet, too. Was he losing it? Maybe, but this would help him return to sanity.

He tore off a few more pieces for the travel ahead, and wondered if Amia would appreciate a few of them, too.

Owen realized that his hands were already full of tree taffy. How was he could to carry back the berries when…

He’d have to think about that while searching for them, because regardless, he’d have to bring a few along for Amia.

After more walking—and with half of the tree taffy consumed—he spotted color in his vision, something that stood out subtly from the purples and blacks. Blue, a vibrant blue like an early morning sky, poking through a pile of mulch near the base of a tree.

Could it be?

Beneath the pile, after brushing the dirt aside, he saw a small patch of berries. They actually grew here—Amia was right! He pulled at one, but then winced. It had a lot of… resistance.

He tugged a bit harder, but the other berries followed, attached to the Oran like they had grown together in bunches. Except—it wasn’t just Orans. A few were, but there were Pecha Berries, and Cheri Berries, all part of the same vine, stuck together.

Well, that solved the carrying issue. He glanced at the trees. He could have potentially used the branches to fashion a scraggly, crumbly basket, but this sped things up much more conveniently.

“That’s everything, I guess,” Owen said. His voice startled him; high and hoarse.

Eleven berries on the bunch, and of them, three were Orans. Perfect! That would be more than enough to heal Amia up, and even give her some actual food, too.

He quickly navigated back, still searching for any signs of wraiths—to his fortune, none came. Maybe they were afraid of his tail, or maybe they knew he was dangerous. That had to be it.

After grabbing another few bunches of tree taffy and placing them between the berries, hoping they would stick together, he hauled his findings out of the forest with a tired, but still present spring in his step.

It was going to be a long walk back, but at least now he knew what he was supposed to do with himself.

<><><>​

The first sun of a new era of Kilo rose to its usual routine. First, Kilo Mountain’s face and jagged rocks cast long shadows across the forest and fields, and then, as the sun rose higher, the light finally shined within the city, still named a village by tradition, within. Various flying Pokémon flew in a high circle around the large crater, searching for stragglers trying to find their way to the great, natural landmark at the middle of the world.

The cross-shaped main streets were flooded near the southern side with dots of civilians looking for answers. Meanwhile, the hospital had been expanded into nearby shops and buildings—commandeered for the sake of making room for the influx of patients, though very few protested. Many dots congregated around the center of Kilo as the hospital expanded to take up nearly the entire center of the city. North, the commercial district had a thin sea of Pokémon looking for their last supplies before the stocks ran out, indefinitely.

Most shops were already closed, sold out. Places that didn’t have food or equipment, simply items of pleasure or entertainment, closed early, their shopkeepers more concerned with keeping their friends and family safe, visiting the hospital, or checking the south where most of the remaining Pokémon had gathered. Perhaps some were in the hospital as patients themselves.

The training district was devoid of activity entirely. Every Heart, provisionary or otherwise, had headed to the heart-shaped building at the very base of the southern district, past Waypoint Road, and embedded within the dip of the crater. Even as everything else crumbled, even as Anam left, the red heart remained—there were still hundreds of Hearts ready to help.

That’s what they hoped, at least.

In front of the Heart HQ, at the top of the stairway, stood the one Elite Heart that remained after the sky had fallen. The strange, black vortex far north of Kilo village remained, ever-present on the distant horizon. Occasionally, great arcs of light flew over the ski and smashed into it, leaving distant, thunderous booms for all of Kilo to hear.

Rhys knew that was Arceus, preoccupied with keeping Dark Matter at bay, but did that matter anymore? It seemed that Anam had already kept him suppressed. Yet another stalemate, and despite this, it seemed that the world was one second closer to doomsday.

It was almost nostalgic.

Without communicators, Rhys had no way of knowing what Nevren was doing with Step. In their rush to leave, they had left them behind in Hot Spot—and beyond that, Rhys wasn’t entirely sure if they worked any longer. Berries, Orbs, and Waypoints were strongly tied to Anam’s blessings, to the point where the revocation of them led to the crumbling of social order as they knew it.

However, after searching through all of town, it seemed that not all was lost. Technologies that did not rely on Anam’s blessings were still in working order, such as the hospital’s medical technology, the aura reading systems… They all seemed to be working. What else did they still have?

The crowd was getting larger. Rhys cleared his throat and raised a paw to get everyone’s attention. Nobody was listening. A few stray eyes here and there, but then they returned to speaking to one another. The Lucario growled to himself, figuring he’d have to make a louder noise.

Good thing most of his strength was back after that long rest. He fired a small, crackling orb of aura into the air, then clenched his paw. It exploded with a loud POP! that startled enough of the crowd for a noticeable silence to quiet the rest of them.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming,” Rhys said, shouting as loudly as he could without coming off as screaming. “I would like to begin by—er…”

Someone pushed their way through the crowd. The Exploud that usually showed up for announcements, such as when the Thousand Hearts had performed the Ceremony of Advancement.

“Hey, hey!” he called out, waving an odd, rubbery tube of some kind, attached to a strange device at one end and a long, glowing rod on the other. “This still works! I made it myself; use me!”

“Er—thank you.” Rhys took the piece and, by routine, jammed the rod into one of the holes on Exploud’s back. He then opened his mouth wide, and Rhys spoke into the other end of the tube, his voice amplified for everyone else to hear.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming!” Much easier. “I understand that there is a lot of chaos, but rest assured that the Thousand Hearts are well prepared for such catastrophes!” They were only partly prepared.

“Many of you may have noticed that Arceus has descended from the heavens and Destiny Tower has returned. Do not be alarmed!” There may have been reason for alarm. “He is currently combatting the void in the sky that had also appeared north of Kilo, in the Shimmering Outskirts. That situation is under control!” They didn’t know that.

Murmurs returned. Rhys’ ears tried to tune in on whatever they were saying, some of the louder voices coming in clearly. Mostly names stood out to him, like ‘Anam,’ or ‘Nevren.’ He figured those were valid concerns.

“Elite Hearts Alakazam Nevren and Decidueye James are handling the situation on other parts of Kilo!” True for only one of them. “Meanwhile, Goodra Anam is busy battling the void directly, and will be working tirelessly to keep this place safe until then!” Rhys could only hope that was the case.

“Until then, I implore everyone to stay together in pairs or trios, just as you would expect of a Heart rescue team. Badges, Waypoints, and most Dungeon equipment is no longer useful, and until we can find proper substitutes and replacements, everyone—civilians and Hearts alike—will need to operate under extreme caution!

“I would also like to encourage anybody capable of learning Heal Pulse, Life Dew, or any other healing techniques to tune your auras toward being able to draw from that power quickly. I have already personally tuned my aura toward it. Please consult with species experts to learn if you are capable of the same techniques.

“And lastly, I would like to caution anyone from entering a Dungeon at this time, for fear of safety in the distorted environment. Go to a Heart as usual for any absolutely-necessary Dungeon operations. Report any mutant sightings immediately, and do not engage with them.”

Rhys believed he had covered everything he wanted to, but something was still nagging at him. The way the crowd seemed, while informed, suggested they were still… unnerved, uncertain. Something was missing. What was missing? Their eyes were lost and confused. Despite the fact that his speech was over, it felt like he was still losing them.

Realization hit him—his speech wasn’t over. If the world was in a crisis and they had nothing substantive to actually hold anything together, what was the one thing he could do to show a sense of unity regardless?

“And now,” Rhys amended, “I would like to remind everyone of why we are all here. While this is a mantra that typically applies to my duty as a Heart, it is something that applies to all of us broadly, as Pokémon of one purpose, to help each other. We are all Hearts at our core. And so…”

Rhys raised his paw, bringing it just below the spike on his chest. It seemed that many others caught on, mimicking the motion if they could, others taking on similar poses with their varying body types, using vines, hooves, or tails. Others simply bowed their heads.

“A thousand hands

A single heart

Working and beating as one.”

The crowd slowly stopped their shuffling, more and more of them murmuring the mantra to themselves. Others said it a little more loudly, and the energy was contagious. Indeed, a thousand hands, thousands upon thousands, but they all tied to the same heart. Rhys glanced back at the HQ, then back to the crowd.

“Unite the lands

From worlds apart

Until our battles are done.”

He thought of the Waypoints. It wasn’t so bad. They had gone without Waypoints long ago, when Kilo had been fragmented across various villages and small kingdoms, for lack of a better term. And so, once again, this verse regained its relevance. Rhys didn’t pause too long, and went with the rest of the crowd, which would have carried on the rest of the mantra without him.

“We serve Kilo and all its parts

Under one name: The Thousand Hearts!”

What followed weren’t cheers or shouts of roars, but little murmurs and echoes of the same mantra again. Some seemed frightened, but they were brought closer by hardened eyes and determined spirits. Others seemed less enthused, less hopeful, looking back at the void in the horizon. But more still were already dispersing, and Rhys saw their muted auras, focused on one or two tasks at most. Searching for a species expert, readying themselves for a Heal Pulse. A surprising number were already going to the hospital district—it was a district now, overnight.

No time for peace; before Rhys took his first step down the platform, something in the Heart HQ exploded. He whirled around; a puff of smoke billowed out of the main entrance. He rushed inside, spotting a glow to his right. He ran down the hall, followed the colorful path to the storage room, and spotted the fading, cyan barrier of a Golem’s Protect.

“What happened?” Rhys said.

“Sorry! Sorry!” shouted another voice inside.

Past the smoke, a Primeape holding a straight, wooden stick of some kind stumbled through the debris.

“What happened?” Rhys said.

“We were checking inventory, and suddenly this stick just… blew up!” Primeape held it up. It glowed faintly with energy.

“Ah, that’s… that looks like a Blast Seed’s energy, doesn’t it?” Rhys squinted. “In a wooden stick…”

Isn’t this Nevren’s storage room? He was always fond of making useless experiments…

Rhys stepped in curiously, taking a careful look at the shelves. Despite the blast, most of the area was undisturbed aside from a new layer of smoke and dust. More of those odd, metallic wrists bands lined one part of the room, while neatly organized rows of more wooden sticks decorated another. Some of them were curled, others had little leaves growing out of the top, but they all glowed faintly.

Golem grunted. “What are these things? Seems like Elite Heart Nevren really went crazy with making them all. Did he do them without Anam’s blessings?”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Golem said. “Just like those Jammers, they aren’t made by Anam—they’re totally underground.”

“Conferring blessings is usually impossible for most,” Rhys muttered to himself. Still… I’ve seen something akin to blessings happen by others, and Mystics also have some capacity for it. Considering how long Nevren had to practice, I shouldn’t be too surprised at how far along he’d come.

He should have paid more attention to his projects.

So lost in thought, Rhys didn’t notice the second explosion until Golem brought up his cyan barrier again.

“Will you stop that?!” Golem shouted over the rough coughs by Primeape.

“Sorry, sorry! I was just putting it down and I accidentally set it off, or something! Here, let me just… slowly… slowly…” And on the ground it went.

Rhys sighed and inspected the strange stick. “…Wands,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Golem asked.

“Nevren had been developing equipment that he called wands, but this is all we have.” He inspected the shelves. “But that does mean that if others that were not Anam can confer blessings, perhaps, with a little luck…

Rhys shook his head. It wasn’t much use at this point to theorize on what could be possible when they were still trying to regain lost ground. “Leave this room alone for now,” Rhys said. “This just gave me a thought: unregulated Orbs and other equipment might be in the hands of criminals.”

“Wait—you mean, Orbs not made from Anam’s blessings?”

“Or not based off of them,” Rhys said, nodding. “We’ll need to be careful.”

“Right.”

Rhys hummed in thought. Blessings—incredibly difficult, but not impossible, to channel techniques into empty glass Orbs. They had barely been a problem in the past; Anam and the regulated Orbs simply outnumbered and outmatched them. But now? Perhaps they were actually a threat.

And what of—

Rhys’ ears twitched, sensing a commotion outside. Flaring auras, panic. What now?!

At the base of the HQ, a bruised and battered, but still standing, Emboar stumbled forward. “We need to lock down every single Dungeon,” he grunted to Rhys.

“What? What happened?” he said.

“There… there are monsters inside. Shapeless… black things, they were everywhere, they… I…” He collapsed, sending another wave of panic through the crowd.

Rhys pointed his paw forward and channeled pink energy through it, blasting Emboar with a Heal Pulse. While it didn’t heal him completely, it was enough to seal his wounds, yet his aura still appeared… damaged.

Wraiths. Why hadn’t it occurred to him until now?

Anam’s blessings were gone. Every single Dungeon that he had blessed—every single one in all of Kilo—was infested all over again.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 80 – Finding Stability​

Demitri was a lot heavier than Mispy remembered.

The Haxorus lounged on her back, axes by his side, while he nestled his face against her. “Thanks for this, Mispy,” Demitri mumbled.

The Meganium nodded silently, though she was more focused on her surroundings. With no idea on where to go, they had decided to try to find the highest ground possible. To their fortune, they had wound up right next to a mountain, stuck in some kind of valley. The mountains were black—so dark that, at times, it was hard to tell where there were cracks in the ground, or boulders to step over. It had gotten so bad that Demitri had tripped every other step, resulting in Mispy’s more unorthodox mode of travel.

Her vines crawled over every small pit and dip, filling in the cracks without much issue. Sliding forward, creeping one vine at a time, she focused on their surroundings. The actual aspect of climbing—the slope wasn’t very steep—had become a routine. Red skies above and black rocks below made for a very ominous sight. The wind was invisible, kicking up no dust; she could only know to brace herself when she heard it coming, or otherwise had to make sure she had a good foothold—vinehold, technically—of a nearby rock.

“How far up are we?” Demitri said. “I don’t wanna look down.”

“Almost,” Mispy said. The summit wasn’t too far. If she really wanted to, Demitri could probably ball her up and throw her to the top. If only they had Gahi or Owen to do the flying; it would’ve taken Owen only a few hundred seconds to get to the top of the mountain from here. Instead, they had to deal with kiloseconds.

Mispy suddenly stopped.

“H-huh?” Demitri braced himself. “Is there another one?”

“Mhm.”

She raised a vine, pointing it at the ground to her left. She waited, staring, her antennae twitching. Then, suddenly, something black oozed out of the ground, lunging at her; the Meganium’s vine was faster, piercing it right in the center. It shrieked and went limp; she flicked it ahead, where it bled an inky blackness.

“Is it dead?” Demitri asked.

Mispy prodded at the thing; no movement. She jabbed it. More black ooze came out. “Dead.” She curled a vine around it, lifting it toward Demitri. It dripped thickly. “Hungry?”

Demitri’s head jerked forward in a restrained retch. “I—I’m full from the last one,” he said.

Mispy shrugged; the vine holding the carcass split open four ways and wrapped around the vaguely shapeless blob. Once she actually pressed on the strange body, she felt vague, slightly harder parts of the body that resembled limbs. Did this thing actually have arms and legs beneath its rounded mass? How strange. Not that it mattered; it was food, now.

Piece by piece, her vines tore away, swallowing each piece greedily until all that remained was black residue. She sighed, satisfied. Any food was good food, and it seemed like they weren’t going to come across anything fruit-based for Demitri to enjoy anyway.

It had been a battle just to feed him the first time. ‘What if that blob had a family?’ Demitri had protested.

She sighed at the thought, which earned a worried pat from the Haxorus. “It’s okay,” she said.

“It’s settling well, right?” he asked.

“Mm.”

Maybe they did have families, but as far as Mispy could tell, they were even dumber than ferals—not counting Enet. Then again, she didn’t deal with ferals all that often… But these things just attacked on sight. They were defending themselves! And once they were dead, well, it’d be wasteful, wouldn’t it?

She wondered if another would attack. She was still a bit hungry.

A while more of climbing brought them to the top, but a cruel wind forced Mispy to brace herself again. Her aura sense gave off no other wraiths, so that was a good start, but it would be bad timing if she had to take one on while the wind blew. Did they get blown away by those? They were pretty dense—and, therefore, were very filling meals—usually.

There had been one time, though, when she killed one and it simply dissolved into thin air. That was strange—and disappointing. It was the least defined of the bunch, nothing but a blob that vaguely resembled a Goomy, similar to the ones that Anam had summoned when he was possessed. She’d probably never know what those ones tasted like.

Soon, they reached the top—a flatland near the top of the mountain, with only a modest dip of a crater at the center. Demitri didn’t want to scan for too long, but he looked around enough to gather that they were simply too far away from any sense of civilization.

It was all the same. Mountains all around, skies the same, and the horizon was lined with more mountains. With the featureless sky, there wasn’t a whole lot to tell on where to go, either.

“Still nothing, huh?” Demitri said. “I guess we should just—wait, what’s that?”

“Huh?”

A cave. It was on the other mountain to the left of the one they’d been climbing—which meant it would be another long and boring climb—but it was at least something. Mispy’s antennae twitched, but it was too far away to tell. Still, at least it would be more climbing down than climbing up. The cave was a lot lower than the summit.

“It’s so far away,” Demitri whined. “Why can’t we just fly there?”

“Wings.”

“I—I know, just—wait. Didn’t we glide on our way here?”

Mispy flinched. Did boredom get to Demitri so much that he’d rather try to fly than take the safe walk? Then again… they could get attacked by more wraiths the longer they took, and they couldn’t risk too many injuries before tapping into their healing energy. And with food being scarce, Mispy would have to use up her vines for the healing.

“Glide?” Mispy said.

Mispy and Demitri had arrived to this strange place from the sky shortly after they had been taken by Anam. It was disorienting at first, but Demitri had been right next to her. They had been taken together, though the ground had been rocky. But the way they had broken the landing—aside from Mispy using most of her weight as a cushion for Demitri—was to try to fashion her vines into a flat, wing-like glider.

It hadn’t worked well, but it had slowed the fall.

Mispy gave Demitri an uncertain look, though she couldn’t find her words. She tried to speak, but she stumbled over herself and grumbled. “Not…” was all she managed to say.

“I guess so,” Demitri said with a nervous laugh. “Okay, maybe a little too crazy. Let’s just go with the normal walking, a-aha… Besides, I don’t know if I want to experience falling again.”

He adjusted himself on her back and leaned forward. “Do you want me to get off?” he asked.

Mispy wrapped her vines around his waist and smiled. She could feel her words returning to her again. “I’m fine.”

Demitri wrapped his arms around her neck for a better grip. “I wonder if we should fuse after all. Then I won’t be bothering you on your back.”

She had considered it, but would that take up more energy? Less? It was hard to tell. Food used to be abundant, and now they were just trying to be cautious.

“Not for now,” Mispy said.

“Yeah, I guess we don’t know what it’ll do with our energy.”

Deciding to keep to the same routine, Mispy started her slow and careful descent down the valley. They went over the rocks, over a small fissure, and finally started their ascent all over again. At some point during the descent, Demitri had fallen asleep. Mispy kept him situated on her back with a few more vines, which he happily snuggled with. Meanwhile, she kept his axes in safekeeping for now. She did appreciate that he slept with them off so he didn’t cut up her back with them, for how sharp they were.

Eventually, they made it to the cave on the other side, and in case there was something lurking within, Mispy gently shook Demitri.

“Mmm… uh… huh?” Demitri blinked himself awake. “What’s going on? Oh.” He rubbed his eyes, finally slipping off of Mispy. “You know, we could probably use the cave as shelter if it’s empty, don’t you think?”

“Mm.” She didn’t feel any odd auras inside. Maybe it was actually safe to rest for once. Taking shifts while sleeping would still be wise.

The inside of the cave looked like more of the same black rocks. No dust here, either. After Demitri verified with Mispy that it was safe to advance, he led the way in, unable to see the back of the cave. He was bolder, now, with the knowledge that there was nothing else inside. Still, he had to be careful about the floor being uneven.

A chilling wind shocked Mispy to her core. She raised her vines in an attempt to shield from it, but she could already tell that her body wouldn’t last against this cold for long.

Demitri had it just as bad, rubbing his arms. He retreated behind Mispy’s vines. “Cold—”

Mispy nodded and wrapped him in some of them in an attempt to shield the Haxorus from the wind, which didn’t end. And further along, the rocks were changing from black to something with at least some color. And was that… salt?

“Why does it smell like the beach?” Demitri said, wincing when another whip of chilling air hit his arm.

“Let’s keep going.”

Defiant of the wind, the pair pressed onward, black, oppressive rocks giving way to a dimly lit cave within, the stone even colder to the touch. Bizarre as it was, they continued anyway, and heard a high, constant whistling sound. “What’s…” Mispy looked back. “What is that?”

“Whistling—like wind through a tunnel,” Demitri said. “Wait, didn’t Owen mention to us about that before? A cave that always had a loud whistling noise. He went with Nevren to train, and he told us about that weird dream, I think… That was from a reset ago.”

“I remember…” Mispy frowned. That didn’t make sense. That cave was at the northern edge of Kilo, even further than Hot Spot. But that did explain the salty air—it overlooked the ocean on the northern side.

Everything except for how they got there made sense, if it really was…

“It actually is Eternal Whistler,” Demitri said, pointing to the left. “Owen mentioned that only heavy rocks remained and stuff. It’s gotta be.”

Mispy’s eyes brightened. That meant they were somewhere home. The air seemed saltier when they went in one direction; if they wanted to head south, closer to Kilo, they would have to go in the opposite direction, against the wind.

“”C-cold,” Demitri said. “How did Owen d-deal with this?”

“Fire.”

“Oh… right…” Demitri rubbed his arms again. “Would love to have Owen around right now… S-so warm…”

Gahi would’ve done even worse, Mispy imagined. Ground and Dragon wouldn’t do well in this sort of frigid weather. Step’s angry words echoed in her mind—how ironic that three components to the apparently-perfect fusion shared a weakness to Ice.

There weren’t a lot off feral Pokémon in the area. Even when Mispy tried to get a feel for their auras, she only sensed a few hiding in the corners. Did they fear the two of them?

Mispy suddenly froze in thought, then tapped Demitri on the side.

“H-huh? What? Too cold?”

“We’re mutants.”

Demitri blinked. “Yeah, we are. Are you feeling okay?”

Mispy looked onward, frowning. Once they got out, if the world was in any sort of trouble from what Anam was doing, or if the others were fighting, would they get mistaken for enemies by the general public? They didn’t have Enet to hide them in an illusion this time, and while Demitri could pass as normal… there was no disguising Mispy. She wouldn’t even pass as southern—she was simply too different.

“Oh… oh,” Demitri said lowly. “Well… we can’t just go back, can we? We’ll just behave really nice, and maybe they’ll believe us. Better than nothing. R-right?”

He had a point, but it wasn’t exactly a good chance.

Soon, they reached the exit, with just the little distorting waiting for them. It seemed a little different than the others; usually, they had to pass through little segments from one to the next, but they hadn’t encountered anything like that. And now, they were at the exit?

They decided to just accept the blessing and advance through, blinking at the sudden brightness. The sun practically burned against them. “Aagh, I think we adjusted too much to that dark place.” Demitri groaned, holding his arm up to the afternoon sun. “Maybe we should… stick to the shade or something. It’s kinda hot today, isn’t it?”

Mispy had to agree. She knew from traces of Demitri’s memories what it felt like to feel the pain of a burn, and even she was starting to feel it. It reminded her of when she’d endured Anam’s attacks—like they went right to her aura. Why was it that the sun felt the same way, now? No, it wasn’t the sun. It felt like the very air was oppressive to her. She looked to see how Demitri was doing, but—

“D… Demitri!” Mispy lost her words again.

“What?” But then he gasped. “Mispy! You’re—what’s happening to you?”

“What?”

They were both losing their shape, like a haze had overtaken their bodies. And it was getting worse—and as it got worse, so did the pain.

“S-something’s wrong,” Demitri breathed out.

It happened right when they got out of the Dungeon. Their first reflex—to simply go back. “Hurry,” Mispy said, pulling Demitri with her. They passed through the distortion for a second time—relief flooded over them, like cold water on a burn.

Demitri trembled, staring at shaking claws. “I… th-that… what happened?”

Mispy didn’t know. The pain—such a rare feeling for her—had become nearly unbearable by the time she’d thrown herself through. It was fading, though.

They shuddered together. Going out again was out of the question. But that just left…

“We need to head back… and find some other way in. W-we should tell the others about this first, and see what it means. Maybe Owen will know, right? He’s… got to be in there, too. Something out of all this must make sense.”

Mispy nodded. Owen might know. They just had to find him. How hard would it be to find a Charizard? He was probably searching for them from the skies.

“Let’s go.”

With a determined nod, the duo elected to return to the strange, red-sky land they had come from.

<><><>​

Manny slid down a hill made of cotton candy.

It was awful. The sugar got all over his fur and stuck between his paws, and he didn’t want to think about anywhere else that he’d have to start cleaning by the time he got to the bottom. Behind him, all of the other surviving spirits of his Realm continued through, some of them tumbling and spinning downward.

“We’re fallin’ too fast!” Manny shouted. “I ain’t gonna fizzle ter a fall, we gotta slow down!”

Elbee, further behind, pulled out one of her blades and slashed into the cotton candy slide; far below, there was a bubbling pool of pink liquid, waiting to melt them down should they land in it.

Yen followed next, slamming his hidden claws into the cotton candy, followed by the others doing the same. Azu, Roh, and Verd were strong enough to dig their claws into the surprisingly thick hill of pink fluff, and Manny swung his arms backward, using his wrist spikes to stop his fall. He slowly decelerated, his body pressed against the slide at a steep angle. They were only a few seconds away from the bottom if they lost their hold.

“Freaking Willow,” Manny said, puffing out an irritated breath. “What’s with the Fairy Realm?”

Everything smelled sweet, and the sky was a swirl of pink and pale green, like the entire atmosphere had been painted in pastel. The clouds looked like brush strokes trying to imitate hair.

“I don’t trust Fairies. Never did.” Elbee tried to get a better hold of her blade. The Samurott couldn’t position herself nicely, but instead looked at her surroundings. “So, this slide goes into that pool of bubbling pink lava, right? What do we do?”

“Guys! A little help?!” Doll cried.

Far above them, two Pokémon were caught near the top of the slide. Clair and Doll—with their rough skin and prickly body respectively—had gotten caught on the slide right at the beginning.

“Aaah, that ain’t good,” Manny muttered, but he was pinned against the cotton candy by his own spikes.

“Pick the Fairy Realm, you said,” Elbee said in a hiss. “It’ll be easy, you said.”

“Oy, we tried ADAM’s place and that was messed up! I ain’t gonna live there! And Step’s nuts!”

“Oh, and the shrink-happy Joltik isn’t?!”

“Baaah, ferget that! She’s weak, I figured we coulda handled it!” Manny waved dismissively, which loosened him from the slide. He swung left, yelping, and he slammed his spike into the slide again.

A silence followed where nobody tried to move—up or down. Then, Elbee growled, jamming her forehead’s horn into the cotton candy. “Great. So what do we do now, leader?”

“Shaddap, I’m thinkin’!” Manny tried to move his arm, but any time he did, he felt his grip on the slide become more and more perilous. He couldn’t see what was to their left or right, but straight down was a bad idea.

“Elbee, shoot some water into that stuff. See if it’s actually hot.”

The Samurott nodded and launched a glob of water toward the vat below. Direct hit—the water sizzled loudly, a series of pops sending solidified pink material in all directions. The water blended with the pink fluid once it was as hot as the rest.

“Yep, that’s hot alright,” Manny said with a wince. “Great. That’s out.”

Some of the hot water splashed on the slide, melting the sugar near the bottom.

“…Oh, lookit that,” Manny said. “Hang on. I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Way ahead of you,” Elbee said, and then blasted the slide in front of her with a Hydro Pump.

Manny barked in surprise, eyes wide. “WHAT? NO! Don’t—”

“What?” Elbee stopped her attack prematurely, but the damage was already done. The water spread through the fluffy sweetness like it was nothing. “Which way were we supposed to go?”

The bridge split apart, revealing an open pit filled with—

“Oh, come on…”

All the others screamed or shouted, looking for a way out as more and more of the sugary footholds disappeared into melted, red candy. Far below, colorful, lumpy mounds of yellow, green, orange, and red, several times their size, came into view. In the rain of sugar, Manny crossed his arms and shouted, “Fall floppy; it’ll hurt less!”

Manny loosened his body, while Yen tried, and failed, to catch up to him in time. The Drampa kicked his legs and channeled his innate levitation abilities—something that the other spirits lacked in Willow’s domain. Roh flailed his arms in an attempt to fly. It had no effect. Azu struck an honorable pose, sticking one arm forward with his fist clenched, while his other arm held his hips. Verd had passed out—never was a fan of heights.

Clair was falling a lot faster than the others, challenging the ground to try to kill her, while Elbee actually listened to Manny’s advice. The Garchomp hit the pit’s center, sticking headfirst into one of the red lumps near the middle with a loud splorsh. Manny landed next, getting his chest-spike stuck in a yellow gumdrop. The others all landed one way or another, with Azu managing to hold his pose even after he landed. He was waist-deep between a pinkish and orange gumdrop, looking like he had been there all his life.

Verd, meanwhile, had landed back-first, and then rolled further down. The spikes on the Chesnaught’s shell carried a few of the gumdrops down with him, reinforcing his back with sticky goodness.

Sticky water landed on all of them in a brief, sweet rain. Manny’s fur stuck together, and for a moment, he just remained face-down, wondering if trying his luck with Step would’ve been the better choice after all.

Yen landed gracefully beside Manny, tilting his head. “It looks like everyone landed fine,” the Drampa said, serene as always.

Manny usually admired Yen’s ability to keep a level head and calm tone in nearly every situation, but right now, it seemed to make the sugar bubble with angry fury on his head. “Yeah, landed jus’ fine,” Manny grunted.

Yen’s massive snout gently went under Manny’s chin, playfully helping him up. “You were smart to tell them how to land,” he said. “You’ve had rougher landings in the past, haven’t we?”

Gentle waves of nostalgia hit him, and briefly, Manny felt like a Riolu again. He remembered a gentle fire that warmed up his waterlogged body and the Oshawott that so cheerfully doused him anyway, asking for a fight. He had been angry at the time, livid, even, and had his arm not been broken, he probably would have given her that fight. But now it just made him want to go for another sparring match with her.

“Gah, always know what ter say,” Manny mumbled, rubbing the back of Yen’s neck, though he couldn’t hide his dumb grin.

Yen nuzzled Manny back, but movement to his left caught his eye. “Ah… Clair.”

She was angrily slashing and chomping at some of the gumdrops, only to stop in confusion when the sweet taste got to her. Chew, chew. Too thrown off by their landing platform, she just shuffled to Manny and awaited further instructions.

“Feeling better, Clair?” Yen asked.

The Garchomp licked at the sugar between her teeth. “Yerm, ‘m fine.”

“Yes, you’re fine,” Yen said gently.

Clair snorted, but then glanced at Manny. “Yeh, doin’ fine,” she said.

Yen looked crestfallen. “Oh, goodness, another one…”

Manny smirked. “What’s wrong, can’t deal with the accent?”

Yen smiled nervously at Manny. “It’s charming. I’m just surprised at how impressionable they can be. That Flygon, Gahi? He had acquired it even faster all those centuries ago…”

Yen really did like to think about the past, Manny said, but that comforted him. Maybe he was spending too much time thinking about old times, but now that he was surrounded by gumdrops and melted sugar, thinking about better times kept him sane. Good call, Yen. “Swear, it was like Gahi already had it and just fergot,” Manny remarked.

They performed a quick headcount. Manny did best to ignore the fact that he felt like he was about to be rolled up for a Joltik’s sweet treat. He saw Clair, and the color trio… That took care of the mutants. Yen was, of course, by his side—Elbee was angrily jamming her blade into several of the larger gumdrops.

Someone was missing.

“…Doll?” Manny looked up. “Beh, ain’t that something.”

She was dangling by her shoulders and arms, unable to break loose from the sugar. A green dot in the pastel sky.

Now that they were lower, just where were they?

Manny didn’t expect Willow’s realm to be filled with nothing but sweets and—oh, there were mushrooms as well. That was more appropriate.

To his left, there was a mountain that, instead of trees, had giant mushrooms dotting its rocky—no, those weren’t rocks, those were crystals of solid sugar. Muttering incoherent curses under his breath, he looked for some sanity to his right, only to see that more of those mushroom trees had blocked his view outside the pit.

One was staring at them with black eyes and tiny, white dots for pupils in the mushroom-tree’s stump.

The sound of Elbee firing a Hydro Pump caught his attention. He looked skyward; she was trying to knock Doll loose from her sweet prison, but wasn’t accurate enough for such a distance.

“Little higher, gotta account fer gravity,” Manny advised.

Because at least gravity still worked properly here.

“Hey!” Manny shouted at the mushroom. “Where’s Willow? We need help, ya got that?”

The mushroom jeered at them, then laughed. Its echoing mirth shook the gumdrops and the sugar on their bodies. Then, it closed its eyes, and the mushroom became lifeless.

“…Well, alright.”

“Got her!” Elbee shouted. “Wait, no, I missed a bit…”

“Are you even getting far enough? That’s very high up…” Yen frowned, readying his body for another flight. “If I push, I might be able to get back up there in time.”

The Cacturne, meanwhile, kicked her legs uselessly. Her thorns were simply too stuck in the sugar.

Squeaky giggling made Manny’s ears twitch left.

Several Togepi, Joltik, and Cleffa were at the top of the pit, staring at them. Manny counted at least twenty in total. The Joltik in particular made his fur bristle. Great, she’s got fans.

All of them jumped into the air and sprouted large, pink wings. They fluttered toward Manny, who at this point was resigned enough to watch without a reaction. One of the Joltik landed on his head.

“Hi, Mister! How’d you get here? You don’t look like one of those mean old wraiths!”

“Yeah, we’re kinda runnin’ from them,” Manny said.

“Oh, is that it?”

“Oooh, you look strong! How come you’re running away?”

“Well, can’t fight a whole lot all at once. Too risky outta our own realm.”

“How come you’re not in your own realm? Did you lose?”

Manny kept his expression even, despite his urge to snarl. “Yeah, we met the wraiths’ boss. Didn’t exactly go well.”

“Oh, I see, I see! So, you want to see Willow?”

“Yeah, what’s she doing now?”

“AaaaAAAAA—OOF!”

Doll landed in a few of the gumdrops, stuck for a third time. Azu and Roh helped to free her, while Elbee and Yen tried to wake Verd up.

The fairies giggled and circled around the group several times in a disturbing tornado. “She’s flying around Kilo Village with a bunch of others!”

“Everyone’s scared because of Dark Matter, but with Willow on the case, nobody should be worried at all!”

“Yep! Willow will just shrink him down until he’s a tiny, tiny marble, and then crunch! No more Dark Matter!”

Manny frowned, pensive. “Dark Matter… So that’s his name, eh?” All things considered, it was appropriate. But he still didn’t like the sound of that. Wraith King was the name he’d known it by before, and that was just a title; Dark Matter… Should they really give it the dignity of calling it by its chosen name?

Not that it mattered; did it even care? It seemed keener on destroying everything all over again. And Star…

“Are you okay?” one of the fairies asked.

Manny jolted up. “Yeh, jus’ fine. Eh, take us ter Willow. Where’s she?”

“Well, you can try to talk to her directly if you go to the Core!”

“Sure, where’s that? Mind flyin’ us there? Actually, hang on—how come we can’t fly, eh? Let that happen! Ain’t that hard. Aether Forest let us fly no problem.”

The flying fairies all giggled again, and then a Togepi sang, “Only fairies are allowed to fly here! If you want to fly, we’ll turn you into a fairy!”

“Wait, no, hang on, yeh can’t just turn someone like me—”

Pink dust surrounded Manny in moments, as well as all the others on his team of refugee spirits. His back felt heavier, and a new set of limbs—wide and flat and with great resistance when he tried to move them. He didn’t want to look, because he knew exactly what had just happened.

But he couldn’t stand still forever. Eventually, be opened his eyes and beat… his new, pink wings, taller than he was. He gave them another few tentative beats, and each one lifted him a few inches off of the ground. He stopped, landing with a cloud of pink, glitter-like mist. The horror was too much for him to express, so he didn’t express it at all.

Behind him, the others sported similar wings, some taking it better than others. Verd, who had finally regained consciousness, inspected them curiously. Clair was already trying to fly with them, swiping at the air like it gave her a better battle stance. Azu marveled at them, and then tried to flex while in midair. “A wonderful addition!” he declared.

“Well… It could be worse,” Yen said to Manny. The Drampa’s wings were perhaps the largest of them all, and several of the other fairies were gathering on his back for a ride. He was unnerved by their presence—Dragon instincts, no doubt—and Manny just groaned and rubbed his head. “Yep. Should’a gone with Ice.”

“Come on! Let’s fly to the Core! There’s a portal that’ll take us there!”

“A what now?”

“A portal! Don’t you know? The Fairy realm is full of them if you know where to look! C’mon, let’s fly through one!”

“Will it get us closer ter the Core?”

“Yep! We’ll lead the way.” And then, the swarm of fairies took off for higher ground, beating their little wings like Butterfree.

With an irritated sigh, Manny followed them all to the skies before, finally, he spotted what seemed to be an odd, golden circle in the air. “Oh, lookit that,” he said. “So, through that, I figure?”

“Yep!” the flurry of pink nearly blinded him. Trying to ignore the fact that the wings came naturally—and all of his precious Fighting spirits—he beat them a few times to gain height above the haze and toward the portal.

“Hey,” Manny said to the others. “When we get outta here… nobody speaks o’ this. We clear?”

<><><>​

News of the hostile Dungeons and the return of the wraiths accelerated all efforts to put nearby Dungeons in complete lockdown. A map of all known Dungeons had been pulled out, marked, and then assigned to flying Pokémon to scout the perimeter for any signs of recent visitors, and to leave signs depicting the dangers of entering one now.

Blessed Dungeons were one thing—easy to manage. Anam had crafted their properties with nothing but benevolence in mind. If someone became too injured in a Dungeon, it would warp them to the entrance, sometimes with most of their injuries gone. Their auras were often severely damaged, though, and Rhys never quite understood why; it was as if injuries within Dungeons were done to the aura, rather than to the body.

Along with that, Dungeons often gave rise to blessed items within, like Oran berries. They even grew along the perimeter of nearby Dungeons from exposure. Rhys recalled the ones he had used to heal Owen during his outburst, so long ago, when he’d discovered Zena. And, perhaps most importantly, blessed Dungeons lacked wraiths of any kind.

But those blessings were gone—and now, so too went all of their benefits. Defeat in a Dungeon spelled death for those who traveled inside; no useful, blessed berries, orbs, or seeds appeared there; and wraiths ran rampant within.

Just like that new Dungeon within Hot Spot. The first dungeon to form in centuries… Why now? Would there be more?

Not that it mattered—they were all unblessed, now.

Several Pokémon entered and exited the office and passed along the halls, looking for orders on where to go next or what nearby area to scout. Nearby, because they didn’t yet have the provisions to handle long treks without Waypoints to take them anywhere more than a little ways away.

“That should be all of them,” Rhys stated, looking over the map, then at the long checklist of Dungeons that they had to send others to. He had deliberately excluded a few of them—such as Ghrelle’s swamp, or Zero Isle Spiral, since not only would those be too dangerous, but the Trinity surely had them covered. Though, it wouldn’t hurt to check just in case.

Before he had the chance to give out the final orders, something landed on his head. On reflex, he reached out to grab it—only for a jolt of electricity to crackle against his paws. He hissed and swiped it away, but that just learned another zap.

“Willow!” Rhys hissed.

The Fairy Joltik fluttered in front of Rhys, sparking angrily. “Why’d you hit me? I was resting my wings! Do you know how long I’ve been flying?”

“You don’t even need wings to fly!”

“Yeah, well, it looks better!”

Rhys pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “What do you need, Willow? Shouldn’t you be scouting with the others?”

“Manny wants to see you!”

Rhys blinked, and then his expression transitioned rapidly from exasperated to serious. “Manny? He’s alive?”

“Nope! But he ran all the way to the Fairy Realm just to see me! I’m gonna summon him now. All his other surviving spirits are there, too, but Manny’s too strong on his own. I gotta put aaaaall my strength into this so he looks solid!”

“Yes, of course, I—”

Rhys realized that several passerby Hearts were staring at the flying Joltik, but by now, they’d already made themselves known to the public. There was no real point in trying to keep themselves hidden for very long. He sighed. What was one more power?

“Summon him. We don’t have much time to—”

“Actually, Manny wanted it to be done in private. He refuses to come out in public as a Fairy.”

“…What?”

But Willow was already flying into the Heart HQ, and Rhys followed with a morbid sense of anticipation. Manny, a Fairy? What would he look like? Would he have fur colored like those mushrooms that Willow often summoned? Or perhaps, would he sparkle with every movement? Perhaps his voice would be several octaves higher—that could be it.

Whatever it was, Rhys intended to meet it with respect and dignity.

A spirit shot from Willow and in front of Rhys—a Lucario, pure and simple. Rhys’ shoulders visibly lowered with relief… and then he froze. Two luxuriously hot-pink wings spread behind Manny, taking up his entire arm span and a bit extra in width. Manny glared at the ground, paws clenched, as he stared at Rhys’ feet.

“Laugh an’ yer dead.”

Rhys nodded firmly, body tense.

“I’m here after we got attacked by that demon and stuff. We’ve got a lot ter go over.”

Rhys grunted in affirmative.

“…You busy? I’ll wait.”

“Just some small duties,” Rhys said too quickly.

“I’ll wait.”

Rhys made a hasty retreat into Anam’s office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Elder, who had just ascended the stairs nearby, tilted his head. He’d caught Rhys’ expression, filled with a great amount of strain and forced discipline.

“Is Rhys okay?” Elder asked, but then kept his mouth open upon seeing the elegant Lucario that remained with Willow. “Oh… goodness, Manny.”

“Yeh don’t wanna know… how much hate I got in my heart righ’ now.”

Elder looked at the closed door of Anam’s office, then at the Fighting Fairy, and frowned. “Perhaps some time to cool down would be best.” He exhaled a plume of clear smog, then rested his shell near the door.

<><><>​

“So he’s really callin’ himself Dark Matter now, eh?” Manny said.

“Indeed.” Rhys poured out some hot apple cider for himself, then passed the main teapot to Manny.

“Pur some fairy dust in it. It tastes way better!” Willow said, waving one of her mushroom spirits in her paws.

“…Yer not gonna tear off pieces o’ them again, are yeh? That’s weird.” Manny looked at the giggling mushroom.

“What’s weird about it?”

“Everything.”

Willow snorted and pulled off a bit from the cap—earning a loud giggle from the mushroom—and then tossed it into her tiny bowl. The rest of the mushroom disappeared in a puff of mist, returning to Willow’s Realm.

Elder hummed worriedly. “I think it’s reasonable to assume that the wraiths are trying to attack us any way they can. We can’t afford to let our guards down at all. Willow, your Fairy Realm—is it safe from wraiths?”

“Well, they can’t get anywhere near my Core, so I think I’m okay.”

“What security measures do you have?” Rhys asked. This one was curious. Of all the Guardians, Willow was among the weakest, yet her realm was safe from wraiths?

“Oh, that’s easy. Most entry points will destroy wraiths because of the spicy pits of sugary doom! And even if they get past that, they still have to battle the mushroom giants, and then they have to get across the gumdrop chasms. Oh, and Choco Mountain, and after that, Wafer Ridge…”

Rhys blinked several times, then looked at Manny.

“It’s a freaking candy land.” His wings beat once on reflex. “Only reason we got through easily was because the spirits guided us to a weird portal. Looked like a ring. Went through a few of them, actually. Next thing we knew, we were near the Core.”

“Hrm. So a confusing architecture can thwart the wraiths. That’s good to know. We should probably warn the others about that. Manny, what was your realm like?”

“Er… simple.”

“I see,” Rhys hummed. That explained why his realm was so easily overrun. Step’s was quite hostile as well, from what he gathered. ADAM hadn’t spoken of any issues in his realm, either.

Rhys briefly thought about all the other realms, but then quickly realized that all of the others were either overrun or simply claimed by Dark Matter. Everyone…

Well, the Trinity still had theirs, but there was no telling how they were doing until they sent others. “Ah, that reminds me… Elder. Could you stay here and discuss with the others? I need to send for a few teams to investigate the Poison and Dragon Dungeons.”

“Wait, isn’t that sorta a bad idea?” Manny said. “Star said those places’re pretty dangerous fer mortals. I mean, apparently the Dragon Guardian’s fine with mortals, but Poison, I dunno… And there’s that weird barrier protecting the factory that keeps mortals from getting’ there, too.”

“Hrm, that’s true. But we can’t travel all the way to the Poison swamp on our own, can we?”

“Well, I could fly there,” Willow said. “I’ll shrink one of you down to come with me. Do we know who Ghrelle would like?”

Manny thought back, but then growled. “The four that Star said would be fine the first time’re all…”

Rhys’ expression darkened. That was true. Enet, Owen, Amia, and Gahi were all lost to darkness. The four who Star had considered ‘worthy’ of Ghrelle’s presence, at least from the Altaria’s perspective.

“Tch… I’ll go,” Manny said, nodding. “Willow can come with, and I’ll take over her body fer a bit when we arrive. How long’s the flight, y’think?”

“From Kilo all the way to that forest… That’s quite far. Perhaps a day.”

“Don’t got a choice. Who’s gonna go ter the factory, you?”

“Zero Isle Spiral and the factory are on the same route,” Rhys said. “I will visit them both without a problem.”

Elder leaned his huge shell against Rhys. “Hmm, I do wonder, though…”

Rhys ran his paw along the large Torkoal’s side, watching wisps of smoke escape from the top.

“Would it really be a good idea for all of you to go alone like that?” Elder hummed. “I don’t know if it’s safe anymore, not with the wraiths.”

“We don’t have time nor other Mystics to help. ADAM is trying to assist in stabilizing the technology that went down, isn’t he?” Rhys frowned. “All that remains is Willow and I. Manny’s attached to Willow for now. We… have to.”

Elder hesitated, looking down. “I… I see.”

An awkward silence followed, but Rhys didn’t have time to think about all the others. If there was any hope of saving them, it would be by defeating Dark Matter—their spirits were probably imprisoned in the Ghost Orb.

That had to be what happened. And perhaps, if Hecto still can’t find Amia, maybe she—

“Hecto. Where is he?”

“What?” Elder said, but Rhys was already stepping out of the Heart HQ.

“Hecto. He’s how we can communicate with all the others with ease. Why hadn’t we considered that until now?”

“Well, I suppose part of that would be because of all the panic,” Elder admitted. “We’ve been so busy that—Well, actually, we aren’t really sure where Hecto is, are we? We need to find one of him…”

“I’ll go look! Do I just call for him a bunch?” Willow stretched her wings.

“Er, yes, actually,” said Elder with a nod. “I suppose you could try to do that.”

“Okay!” And she was gone.

“…Hey, wait, wait, oy! Yeh left me behind! I—” Manny looked at his paws, which were already fading the more Willow distanced herself. The Fairy Lucario let out an annoyed grunt, about to say something, but then his body dissolved into mist completely. His spirit returned to Willow in a blue ember, leaving Rhys alone with Elder.

“…We should search for backup just in case, Rhys,” Elder said, looking down. “I just don’t want to risk it, and we already know that mortals can handle themselves against wraiths if they have backup. But a Mystic alone can be overwhelmed.”

The Lucario rubbed his forehead. “And you shouldn’t come with me for this,” he admitted.

Elder frowned, but nodded. “I’m sorry I’m not much of a fighter, Rhys. It just isn’t part of my capabilities. Perhaps if I trained like Rim, I would be at your level, but… My focus was always imitation blessings. Something I should do here.”

“No. It’s not a problem,” Rhys said. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, Elder. And… if you’re worried about me, then I’ll search for some talent in town. Almost all of the Hearts are scouting Kilo, though, and we can’t afford to take guards away from the border in case mutants wander here. I might need to look for hidden talent.” Rhys’ paw flashed with cyan flames. “Thankfully, I have just the means to do so. And if they need a boost in power, there’s always that Substitute technique I developed.”

“Ah—don’t strain yourself too much,” Elder said. “You know how draining that is to your power.”

“That’s the point,” Rhys said. “A spark of energy is just enough for a boost… If it’s enough to take Demitri and Mispy to their highest forms, then perhaps it can help strengthen other non-Mystics to fight by my side, too.”

“Just don’t do it immediately,” Elder pressed. “Find… already-strong talent.”

Rhys nodded, setting off for town. He had already felt a few powerful auras that hadn’t even joined the Hearts; perhaps he could begin there. He already recalled a few that he’d spotted previously: a powerful Incineroar, for one, and a strange Smeargle.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 81 – Healing​

Spice didn’t take her eyes off of Leo for most of their walk, particularly focused on the bandages around his abdomen. She never realized how thin he was beneath all that fur. The Delphox moved delicately, trying not to aggravate his wounds, and he murmured little curses occasionally as he felt the bandages press against his wound.

“Maybe they put it on too tight,” Spice said. “They didn’t know their own strength. I can readjust it if you—”

“I’ll be fine. It needs to be tight. It’ll remind me if I’m moving too fast.” Leo took step after careful step down a trail that no Pokémon had traveled in decades—and it showed.

Beyond the nonfunctional Waypoint, the early morning sun revealed an expansive, lumpy field of tall grass. The breeze was nice against her scales, and she hoped the morning sunlight would give Leo a bit of energy, too.

“We should have stayed for one more night,” Spice said.

“The others might need us at Kilo Village. A day wasted is a day without our help.”

“You won’t be much help if you’re dead.”

Leo growled, but kept his eyes trained forward. “Have you slept yet?”

“Will you stop going on about that?!” Spice hissed, flicking her tail at him—but immediately stopped herself. She kept calm. The last thing she wanted was for her to be the one responsible for his first bandage replacement. She glanced at her bag; it had enough supplies for three replacements in case the wounds bled through.

That would be more than enough for when they got to the next village, right? They just had to find and follow the river along the way to Kilo.

“Spice.”

“Eh? What?”

“You didn’t actually answer my question.”

“What was the question?”

“Did you sleep?”

“I’m not tired.” Spice picked a stray scale and tossed it aside.

“How many days has it been, now? Four? What did you do while I was asleep?”

“Patrolled the village and watched Destiny Tower.” Spice glanced back, and Leo followed her gaze, to the tower where the Spire of Trials had once been. “You can’t see him from here, but Arceus is definitely at the top. Three times overnight, he fired off what I’m pretty sure was his Judgement attack on something up north.”

She pointed in the vague direction of the northwest. “Guess whatever’s there is a pretty big threat. Maybe when we get closer, we’ll see what it is.”

“Arceus,” Leo breathed out. “And I mean that literally. He’s actually real. Does that mean the Books were real all along, too?”

“Who knows?” Spice said, shrugging. “If you ask me, they’re probably just stories because of how powerful they are. But you know what’s also possible? Arceus coming down has everything to do with Orans and everything not working.” She puffed a small cloud of poison, then dispelled it with a smaller plume of fire. “Let’s take it easy for now. One step at a time, right? We’ll get to the next village and see if we can restock on anything.”

“And maybe we can get you some sleep. You’re looking… agitated, Spice.”

Spice’s left eye twitched. “I’ve tried to sleep. Drop it. Okay? I’m sick and tired of hearing it, day in day out, get some sleep, get some sleep, I would if I could!” She raised her arms in the air, then crossed them over her chest. “Hope the rest of the team is doing alright.”

“They should be back at Kilo Village,” Leo said. “And I think—”

“Wait.”

Leo stopped. Spice rose a bit higher, straining her spine to straighten her stance completely. She squinted and sniffed the air, then closed her eyes. “Hear that?”

“What?”

“Smells like wet dirt, and I think I hear a small waterfall.”

The tall grass made it hard to see much; it went up to Spice’s chest on her normal stance and tickled her scales. They had to be careful with their fire here unless they wanted to set off a Rain Dance from a feral.

Her scar was starting to itch again. “Hey, can we hang on for a second?” she mumbled to Leo.

“What? Oh. Sure.” Leo spotted a small lump of grass nearby and inspected it, making sure it wasn’t some sleeping Pokémon, and then sat down. “Is it bugging you again?”

“It’s all this grass,” Spice muttered. “My scales are more sensitive where the lightning struck. Just give me a second.” She dug through her bag, little glass vials clinking against one another. She pulled out one with an odd, whitish substance, marked with a yellow dot on the top. She poked her claw on the cork and tugged it out. A bit of the powder puffed out with it, drifting to the ground.

She poured some of it in her palm and stuck the vial in the grass to keep it upright. From the back of her throat toxic liquid bubbled up; she spat a small drop on the powder, where it sizzled into a yellowish paste.

The numbing relief that followed upon slathering it over her chest was enough for her to breathe an audible sigh of relief. “Finally,” she mumbled. She let the liquefied powder air out for a while, flaking off with the wind, and brushed aside the rest.

“Alright. Sorry for the wait.” She recovered the vial, corked it shut, and slipped it back into her bag. “Let’s find that river.”

After some trial and error, they found a direction where the bubbling got louder, and it was no wonder why they couldn’t see it at first. The tall grass had obscured it and leaned over the river, a mere few feet across. It was shallow, too. But a sudden dip in land made the water just loud enough to spot. “And now, we just follow it,” Spice said.

“Right.” Leo said, though Spice noticed a bit of breathlessness in his voice.

“Or,” she said, “we can take a second to relax.”

“No, I’m—”

“If you trip, that wound is gonna reopen. Besides, it’s starting to bleed through. I think it’s about time we changed them.” Spice motioned for Leo to turn around, and he reluctantly complied, sitting down by the riverside.

Leo winced when Spice got to the last few layers of the bandage, sticky and red. His fur got caught in some of it, and she had to pull a bit delicately so it wasn’t too uncomfortable. She looked through her supplies for a certain powder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna do something that’ll help it heal faster, but it’s gonna hurt. You fine with that?”

Leo’s lip quivered.

“Oh, brush off your eggshell. It won’t be that bad.” She pulled out another vial, this one with a blue cap.

“Wait, wait,” Leo said. “Your hand—isn’t it still a little poisoned from your—”

“Oh, fine.” Spice rolled her eyes and breathed a plume of fire onto her own fingers, then shoved it in the water. It sizzled, a small cloud of steam rising to Leo’s face thanks to the wind. Spice winced at the cold. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“You know, being too sanitary can make you weak to filth down the line,” Spice said.

“Says the Poison Type,” Leo mumbled.

Without warning, Spice smeared the powder onto Leo’s wound, making him yelp and nearly jerk away.

“Oh, quit it.”

Leo stifled his whimpers, though his eyes were tightly shut, creases forming over his muzzle. Spice followed up by wrapping another bandage over his waist, making sure it was a little less tight this time, but still tight enough that it wouldn’t slip or jostle around.

“There, that better? This shouldn’t strain the wound all that much.”

“A little… Did you have to be that rough?”

“You were bugging me.” Spice huffed, flicking her tail. “Alright. That’s done with. Let’s just relax and let you gain your breath.”

“Are you sure?” Leo said. “I’m good to go. I—”

“You’re a liar is what you are. Just sit still, alright?”

Leo frowned, but he didn’t protest further.

This far away from any town or Dungeon was a rare thing indeed. Spice remembered the old days when she was a child, before the southern annexation; no Waypoints to go so conveniently from place to place. Taking a trip to the nearby town meant navigating hills and paths often trotted. If there was an outlaw or some other unruly Pokémon in the way, she remembered her parents taking an alternate route, where the grass was similarly tall, just to avoid them.

Those were all hazy memories at this point. Vague visions of getting lost in a Dungeon crossed her mind; she remembered an intense, dark feeling, and her mother staring at her in fear. Everything was dark. And then what? Those Dungeons were always cursed; if Spice could credit anything to their insufferable leader, it’d be fixing those.

“This is a peaceful place, isn’t it?:” Leo asked, breaking Spice out of her memories. “I wonder if civilians ever travel here.”

Spice paused to remember what Leo had just said. “Doubt it. All this tall grass makes me surprised we haven’t run into any wild Pokémon, actually.”

Another gentle breeze ran across the field, kicking up loose blades of grass. A few got caught in the fur that stuck out of Leo’s ears. Spice brushed some of them off for him, flinching when a few extra blades went right over her snout.

“Something wrong?” Leo taunted with a wry smile. “Look at that, a big, strong Salazzle scared of grass.”

“Shove it.” Spice feigned to jab him in the side, earning a preemptive yelp from Leo. She smirked; he pouted.

A few Magikarp fell from the higher levels of the river, following the flow. They kicked up dirt on the riverbed, revealing a Wooper that had been lounging in the mud the whole time. Despite the world showing signs of the beginning of the end, the ferals still behaved as they always had. They didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, it was just a thunderstorm without rain.

“I’m glad it’s still quiet,” Leo said.

“What?” Spice said, losing her thoughts.

“All of this. I was worried that when I woke up, the world would be on fire, or a wasteland, or… well, simply not the same.”

“It isn’t.” Spice looked in her bag. “Waypoints are gone, berries stopped working…”

“That isn’t very different for you, is it?” Leo asked. “You grew up in the south before annexation.”

“Not for long,” Spice said. “I was only ten when that all happened.”

“Old enough to remember.” Leo gave her a little smile. “I don’t really know what that sort of life is like. I was a little Fennekin that lived right next to Kilo Village, in one of the outskirt colonies.”

“Oh, really? Which one? Maybe on our way, we can pay a visit.”

“Oh, it is on this side, if we keep heading to the mountain this way…” Leo hummed. “It’s called Yotta Outskirts. It’s sort of a spread-out settlement, one of the biggest in terms of, you know, landmass. Mostly farmland for crops. I wonder if they’re doing alright after, you know… How are they going to deliver all that food?”

“Well, they can always do it the old southern way,” Spice said. “Get a big, winged Pokémon and fly it around to everyone who needs it. Simple, basic.”

“And tiring. Those poor wing muscles.” Leo rolled his shoulder. “I can’t imagine.”

Spice shrugged, but sensed that Leo was feeling livelier than before. “Think we’re about ready to go?”

The Delphox adjusted his footing and tried to stand on his own, pausing when he felt a strain in his side. Spice held him and helped him up.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Let’s get going.”

<><><>​

He could still smell it, even after getting close to where Amia had been. It smelled a lot like soup back home, some kind of thick, hearty stew, maybe. But that came with risks, and he didn’t want to have his berries stolen. Maybe when he had more energy, or if he was just more prepared in this strange place—or if he was actually evolved, that would’ve been nice—

Owen grunted, trying to keep his composure. There was no use fretting over that sort of thing. After all, he’d been through it countless times before. Now he just remembered them all.

“Mom?” Owen called, hoping she was still there. He didn’t smell blood, and he didn’t smell ash or anything burning. Had she been left alone? No rumbles had greeted him during the whole walk, thankfully, but that could change at a moment’s notice. The sooner he got in, the better.

Amia was where she had been before, though she seemed a lot paler. Her eyes drifted toward Owen, and she motioned weakly at the ground where Owen had set the traps. Once he got closer, he saw the subtle glow of where they had been planted.

“Nobody came. Good.” Owen sighed and walked over the traps—they didn’t activate to him—and settled down next to Amia. “Hey, do you want to have something to drink first, or the berries? Wait—dumb question. How about I give you the berr—”

“Water…”

A chill ran down Owen’s spine. Her voice was so weak. It was like an icy pit had replaced where his stomach had been. “Water. Right. Water.” He pulled one of the tree taffy slices. “It’s not the best, but it really helped me, and the berries will probably have some in it, too. See, that one’s a Pecha. It’s probably got a lot of juice in it.”

Amia nodded weakly, and Owen handed the tree taffy over. She tried to use the hand clutching at her wound at first, but it was caked in blood. She shifted her weight and nearly fell over; Owen dropped the berry amalgamation and propped her up. “It’s okay, here,” he said, easing it into her mouth for her. She wasn’t able to chew it well, but she got the juice out. When he saw her wince, he smiled nervously. “Sorry, I know it doesn’t taste good, but it’s water. I’ll give you the berries next, okay? How about the Pecha first?”

Owen tugged a bit harder at the amalgamation, finally breaking loose the Pecha. At the very least, it looked mostly the same compared to a normal one, even if it was attached to a bunch of other berries. Maybe that’s just how the berries grew in this part of the world.

He peeled off a segment of the Pecha, which broke apart in his claws, and fed it to Amia. Soft fruit. She was able to chew it easily. And then another, and another, and soon the whole Pecha was down, though Amia didn’t look any better. But it was hydrating. It would take time. “Another?”

Amia seemed unsure, but then looked at the Oran.

“Right. Let’s get you healed. It’s a little tougher, so how about I break it open?”

“Okay.”

Her voice didn’t seem as dry this time, but it was still weak. She gave him a little smile, waiting for the Oran to be cut up. Owen remembered how to cut them into smaller pieces; trace the outside, use a claw to cut along the tougher outer portions, and then break along the segments. Easy enough. He could use the button at the top as a guide. Snap. Snap. Soon he had four pieces. A few more, and it was in eighths, the soft insides spilling juice out. It, too, was a bit… red. Unorthodox. But it was the same as everything else here.

“Okay, open up.”

Owen watched Amia’s wound after each Oran slice, but nothing seemed to be happening. He wasn’t the only one with a bit of concern in his eyes. He looked at Amia again. Zena had mentioned that Orans used to not be blessed—that it would be harder to heal. Still, they healed a little. Maybe this place just wasn’t blessed?

It certainly seemed that way.

“I’ll get the next one ready,” Owen said.

He wasn’t sure where she put it all, but every piece of tree taffy, and every berry from the whole bunch, had gone to Amia, and Owen wouldn’t have had it any other way. The taffy would last at least through the… He decided to call it night.

Amia winced, glancing at her wound again. Her eyes seemed grave, and Owen could understand why. After being a Mystic for so long, having to deal with an injury like that, where it simply didn’t heal after enough time—he couldn’t imagine how scary it must have been.

“I’ll get more,” Owen said. “I know what to look for now, so—”

“Stay.”

Owen had already been halfway out the cave, but he spun on his heel. “St-stay?”

“I’m feeling better… You’re tired.”

“Yeah, but you still need more—”

“No.”

Owen’s flame twisted and crackled. He was supposed to be helping her, darn it. Not taking orders. But, his eyes were heavy. She probably saw that on him while he was cutting up the berries for her.

“Please, rest, dear. You’ve done so much…”

Every word brought a heavier fatigue over his shoulders. Rest sounded nice. “But you’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“Mm.” Amia motioned at the part of her dress that was draped by her side, so invitingly asking for Owen to curl up over. Owen’s legs carried him there without his input, and soon, he was curled up next to her in a cozy heap.

Amia’s hand drifted over his back, stroking along his scales, over his head, his shoulders—she found the spot, after all this time. He arched his head back, stretched his legs, and let out a long, drawn out chirp, growl, and then curled back up. How did she always know where to scratch? Did he still have that as a Charizard? He hoped so. Maybe it migrated to between his wings, or…

Owen’s eyelids fluttered again, then finally rolled to the back of his head. He was so tired. And even though he wasn’t sleeping in his own bed this time, it was with Amia. Hopefully Alex was okay somewhere… They’d have to find him next. And then, maybe he could find everyone else, and find a way out of…

<><><>​

Careful fingers wrapped around Charmander’s neck, squeezing at the extra skin and scales.

“You’re a healthy one. Looks like your mother took great care of you, huh?” The human behind Charmander moved to his arm next, tapping it. He lifted it on reflex, and they inspected them next.

“Not just her,” a Marowak growled nearby.

The one behind Charmander laughed. “Yes, you, too,” she said.

Charmander’s father growled again to emphasize his point.

The human rubbed Charmander under the chin. “Okay, little guy. Turn around; let’s listen to your heart.”

Charmander spun and chirped at the assistant. She had fair skin, dark hair, and a thick, flameproof lab coat on, as well as protective goggles. He knew that those were used because of his fire. With a hint of defiance, he puffed an ember in her face; it brushed against her cheek.

“Oh, you” she said, rubbing at where he’d hit.

Another chirp. Then, the human said, “Okay, shh. Don’t chirp for a bit, okay?”

She brought out a funny device that was attached to her ears, with a little circle at the other end, which she placed on his chest. He didn’t really know what she was saying, but he knew to be quiet when this happened.

After a little while, she pulled it away and smiled. “Good job, Charmander.”

He chirped again and looked at Charizard. Her smile was part proud, part elated, and the human said to her, “You’ve got another wonderful child here, Miho. He’s still a little too young to go on an adventure with a trainer, but do you think he’ll be ready?”

“My son is always ready.”

Charmander’s flame dimmed. He didn’t understand how Charizard knew what they were saying, but were they talking about the trainers? He looked down. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that… Or if he wanted to. Why couldn’t he be like Redscale? He never went on an adventure. He just stayed home, and sure, he was getting older, but…

“Sounds like Amber’s pretty confident,” the human said.

Charmander chirped uncertainly. “Am I gonna go away soon?” he asked.

“Soon, little ember,” Charizard replied.

“But I don’t want to.”

“Smallflame…” Charizard frowned, looking at the humans.

The other human, who had been writing things down on a large rectangle that he always carried, said, “Is something going on?”

“It sounds like Charmander isn’t so sure yet,” the human guessed. “Charizard, is that it?”

“No, he’s ready,” Charizard said.

“I’m not!” Smallflame protested.

“You’re ready.”

Marowak looked away wordlessly.

The two humans listened, but it was clear that they could only understand the emotions behind their words, and not the words themselves. But that was simple enough, wasn’t it? Maybe Charmander just had to be a bit more assertive. He looked at the humans and growled. “I’m not going! Ever!”

“I—I think we upset him a little,” the rectangle-wielding human said.

“Hmm, maybe he’s just agitated from all the testing. We went on for a while. Let’s just let them rest for now. Sorry, Amber. But he’s wonderful! Perfect health!”

Charizard was more focused on Charmander, but she gave a little, irritable growl to the human. “Thank you.”

“G-guh, that was a scary-sounding growl,” the nervous human said.

The one with goggles grinned. “No, I think she was just saying thank you. She’s just occupied with the little guy. What, you’ve never given an irritated thanks?”

“I—right. Sorry. I’m still new to all this…”

“Well, everyone learns. You’ll eventually get a feel for what Pokémon are trying to tell you.” They both walked away, leaving Charmander behind with the others. He didn’t want to look at his mother.

He didn’t need a stupid human to get stronger, and that was final.

<><><>​

Waking up hungry was a new feeling for Owen, and for a while, he wished he could just find a way to go back to sleep. So cozy. The wave of nothingness was soothing in hindsight. Though, the strange dreams were starting to freak him out. Was that what a human looked like? Where were those memories—those weren’t memories, were they? What was…

But as soon as the dream had come, it faded. Owen spent a while trying to piece together some of them again, but they were slippery in his mind’s fingers. Maybe if he meditated later, when he wasn’t starving, he could find more of them. He’d thought he had all his memories, but maybe there were more that he had completely lost until now.

Owen exhaled through his nose and glanced down at his tail, and then at Amia’s dress with a small smile. He tried to roll, but then felt Amia’s hand still on his back, so he stopped. Now it was just awkward. How was he supposed to squeeze out while she was asleep? “M—” He almost called to her, but then figured she wouldn’t appreciate being woken up like that.

The pain in his stomach reminded him that he still had to get up to find food. Perhaps he had given too much to Amia after all—he should have taken a berry or two. That taffy didn’t give much for him after all…

Owen carefully crawled from under Amia’s hand, making sure that his tail, even if it was just a dull warmth, didn’t brush against her dress or her hand. Finally, he stood up, stretched his back—he heard a few satisfying pops—and sighed out a chirp. He glanced back to make sure Amia was still asleep.

She was still slumped over, hand resting where Owen had once been.

Something seemed off.

Owen wasn’t sure what. But there seemed to be something bothering him about the image. She was… too still.

And for a while, so was Owen: still. His blinks were quick, when they happened, like he was searching for any sign of movement from her, his mind immediately snapping to the worst-case scenario. He took a hesitant step forward, like going closer would see the subtle movements of her breathing. He struggled to reach up to her nose to feel her breath, but that’s when he realized that her eyes were half-open, a little smile on her face.

The surprise made him stumble, his hands instead slamming onto her side. He gasped—she was cold. As cold as the rocks behind her.

The only part of her that was warm was where he had been resting.

Thoughts didn’t come to Owen immediately, only a blurry fuzz of muddled words, and even those he didn’t completely understand. His head pounded with the beat of his heart, like it was trying to beat for the two of them. He reached toward Amia again, not thinking, just trying to feel for the cold again, like it wasn’t real. His vision closed into a tunnel, and then a pinprick of light, and then nothing.

<><><>​

“I don’t want to leave you,” Charmander said, wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s not fair!”

Charizard’s frown deepened. Her strong tail brushed him until he was sitting up, but Charmander kept his face hidden. His body shook with sniffles.

“Little ember, do you really not want to go with a human? Think of how much stronger you’ll become. The adventures you’ll have, the places you’ll see. You’ll grow wings. And if the adventure doesn’t work out, you’ll still learn and see what the world has. And if, after all that, you still want to come home… Then I’ll be here.”

“I don’t care what’s out there,” Charmander said. “I want to stay home.”

“But you’re almost ready to go,” Charizard said. “The humans’ rituals for starting an adventure… They told me a few will be coming soon. You won’t be part of that?”

“No.”

Charizard opened her mouth, but suddenly an otherworldly screech, followed by an explosion, filled the air.

<><><>​

Owen woke up with a start, springing to his feet, but then fell over. His nose smashed against the rocks and he smelled metal. With a groan, the Charmander rolled over and looked back—a wraith was staggering away from the cave, burned from one of the Fire Traps.

Once his heart rate went back to normal, Owen steadied his breath and inspected the floor for the missing glow. He glanced back to see if Amia was doing alright—

There she was, still motionless, eyes half-open, completely oblivious to the explosion that had protected them.

She was still cold, and she still wasn’t breathing, and Owen refused to believe it. He stepped back, turned around, and then turned back again, but the sight didn’t change. He felt her wrist for a pulse again, and felt nothing, and her body was stiff. The only sign of movement came from the fact that she had fallen to her side, earning a surprised yelp from Owen, and then a flood of hope. She’d come back to life, and she’d soon grunt from being woken up so rudely. Because the body had moved. Downward, sure, but it moved.

No movement followed, her limbs twisted unnaturally and uncomfortably, though it wasn’t like she would feel it.

“Mom?” Owen finally said, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t even know why he said it, and soon, he was in front of her again, feeling her cheek for some sign of life. And then her arms, and then her head, and her eyes. He couldn’t look at her eyes, yet he had to. He tried to close them, running his hand over the top of her forehead, but they stuck back open. Trying again yielded the same result.

“C’mon,” Owen said, but he couldn’t bear to try again. He instead pushed her back to a sitting position, but she fell over again. He let out a loud, helpless whimper and rolled her onto her back instead. Her arms stayed rigidly in place. She had to be in a graceful position, he had to get them crossed, why didn’t it work for her, why couldn’t she just—

Owen tripped over her dress and yelped, sniffling. He could barely see. And his stomach was still twisted in knots. On his back again, he curled up, too lost to figure out if he was supposed to stand or stay there. Would another wraith come? It would just run into another Fire Trap. That didn’t matter.

The ground rumbled again, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t leave for a while. He should leave, and he knew he had to find a place to go, but not now. He… just couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Was she in the spirit world now? How would he get there? He wasn’t even Mystic anymore. All of his friends were still looking for him. They were still fighting Anam. Or did the fight end? They would be looking for him.

But he couldn’t leave! What about Amia? Or at least, what she left behind.

The isolated Charmander shook his head, taking deep, meditative breaths. It wasn’t working. But he had to think rationally about this… He had no idea where he was, but he at least knew that Amia was probably more worried about him than he was of her. Maybe there was a bright spot to this after all; Amia could tell them where he was. Maybe they would set up a rescue party to find him.

They wouldn’t be able to find him if he was hiding away in a cave in the middle of nowhere.

He curled up tighter when another pang of hunger hit him. He glanced at the gnarled vine that had once held those berries, then at Amia. Now that he thought about it, he still smelled… there was a hint of… berry rot. The smell of…

Owen stopped thinking about it, physically clenching his jaw and fists. He forced himself to his feet and paced left and right, angrily shaking his head. What if he burned her body? That was a proper way to… No, he didn’t have the energy for it. The Fire Traps were too volatile; it wouldn’t… burn it properly. Bury her? He was too small, too weak, and he didn’t have the tools.

Would Amia understand if he just abandoned her body here? Or maybe he’d just tell her that he buried it, or burned it, because she was the Fire Guardian, and she wouldn’t—no. He was a horrible liar. She’d know.

His stomach tied itself into knots again and he doubled over. The pain didn’t go away; it was always there, dull and in slow, rhythmic spikes. He had to eat something soon, or…

Particles of purple dust bushed against Owen’s back; the wind was picking up. It danced behind him in small waves of ruin before finally settling. Some of the dust collected on Amia’s half-open eyes, further clouding them over. The rumbling was getting weaker; the large creature was going away.

Owen remained still for a while longer, his tail flame crackling once, then twice, and then it dimmed. He stared at Amia’s body for longer than he’d ever admit.

A horrible thought crossed Owen’s mind, and that’s when he decided to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Owen whispered, and before he could think twice about his decision, he used what energy he had to sprint out of the cave. He didn’t look back.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 82 – Casualties​

Angelo leaned his back against the wall, legs crossed. He panted heavily, like he had been running for several miles, and he wasn’t sure if that was actually the case or not. He had been going from room to room for at least the first quarter of the day, ever since Elite Heart Rhys’ announcements. Tireless—but that was a lie, because he’d never felt so tired since his training with his father.

He saw someone approaching him, and he held up his paw. “P-please, I need a break. I can barely breathe; I can’t use Heal Pulse for a while, please…”

The Pokémon—Angelo wasn’t even sure who or what it was—left without a word. He felt a pang of guilt for shooing them away so quickly, but what he said had to be the truth. He felt like he was withering away. He’d lost count of how much he had healed the hospitals’ patients.

A nap sounded wonderful. And maybe lunch, and second lunch. Anything to get his energy back. They still had food, right?

A blurry figure entered Angelo’s vision again, this one accompanied by the characteristic warmth of a Fire. “Phol?” the Smeargle said, squinting up.

“How are you feeling? Don’t forget to conserve your energy.”

“I—I know, of course I know that,” he said, but then something cold was placed in his paws. He squeaked, but then Phol’s strong hands guided Angelo’s to his face. Smelled like a cold smoothie. A straw poked at his snout. “Ow.”

The cool temperature was all he noticed at first, and it was precisely what he needed. Then came the taste—sweet, and was that a hint of coconut? He usually didn’t care too much for that, but right now, he liked anything that would cool his chest. There was an odd tang, too. He recognized the taste, bringing back bitter memories, but he shoved those away, too. He needed the energy, even if it was from an Elixir.

“Mmph, I thought these weren’t good anymore?” Angelo said, looking up. “All blessed items stopped, didn’t it?”

Phol shrugged. “Only some Elixirs failed. Some of them are just made with certain mixtures of ingredients, and that seemed to be enough. Pechas, Rawsts, a lot of them are working just fine, too. They aren’t blessed; they’re just natural.”

“Then Orans were blessed,” Angelo mused aloud.

“Sitrus as well, even if they’re harder to come by.”

Angelo took another deep sip, the tang overtaken by the creamy taste of yoghurt and berry mash. He had to pause, losing sense of everyone else around him, to savor that refreshing gulp.

“You healed nearly half of all the patients here, you know,” Phol said.

“I—I did? I think I burned myself out, to be honest…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The words themselves should have been disapproving, but Angelo heard something else in Phol’s tone. Pride? Praise? Angelo curled his paws, humming. “You mean I did well?”

“You did more than everyone else here. Good job.” Phol looked ahead. “Anyway, I need to make sure everything’s in order. Let us know when your strength is back, but I think the major influx of patients is taken care of.”

Angelo looked up, spotting a furrowed expression on Phol. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“…Just rest for now. I’ve got some things to tend to, but they aren’t anything you need to worry about.”

“Er, right.”

The Incineroar left him alone again, and the tension in his chest left with him. Angelo sighed, deflating against the hard wall, and looked at his half-finished smoothie. Why did Phol get that for him, anyway? It would’ve been nice if he had something with banana in it. Those were always amazing. Apples, too. Apples and bananas… maybe some yoghurt with it? And ice. Was Ludicolo Café still open? Maybe he could escape for a nap there.

“Smeargle?”

Oh, sweet merciful Arceus.

“Yes?” Angelo looked up. His breath caught in his throat; he sprang to his feet and gave a quick bow to the Lucario before him. “H-hello, Elite Heart Lucario Rhys. Er, I, sorry if I’m looking—er—unbecoming or anything—”

“Your aura. You’re very powerful, aren’t you?”

Oh, stars, why does he know that? Oh, that aura sense—why do Lucario have to be so prying?!

“No, I’m just—er—strained a bit from Heal Pulse. I Sketched it a long time ago, you see, er… Just had to tune my aura to bring it back to the surface. Smeargle are odd Pokémon in that way, don’t you think?”

But Rhys stared for a little while longer, eyes trained on him, and Angelo knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. He braced for the line of questioning, the same questioning he always got whenever he showed even an ounce of talent. Just leave me alone. I just want to go home, sleep, and forget any of this happened…

“No, I know what aura strain looks like, and it’s certainly not this,” Rhys said in a hum.

Angelo cursed in his mind, hoping Rhys couldn’t read that, too. “Er—I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just an artist, Lucario. Maybe you’ve seen my work around town? Like, er, the menu inside Sugar ‘n Spice?”

“Oh, you made that?” Rhys said, eyes widening with surprise. “Goodness, small world. It’s lovely.”

His heart fluttered. “You really think so?”

“Oh, of course. One of my students actually—” Rhys cut himself off for some reason, puzzling Angelo. His expression became grave again. “I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

No, wait, stay distracted!

“Could you come with me for a mission when the healing is over?” he said.

Angelo hesitated, looking off. He was already feeling tired from all the healing. Maybe he could go on for a little longer, but he didn’t want to admit that; they’d be able to handle this on their own.

“I think I’m done with healing for the day, actually. They have everything covered. But I don’t think I’m cut out for doing anything crazy, um, with all due respect. I’m just an artist.”

“Just an artist?” Rhys pressed. “But your aura is incredible.”

Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? Angelo thought bitterly. For an instant, he didn’t see a Lucario before him, but another Smeargle with an infectious, proud smile. Just let me go home. “Sorry, I just don’t have a fighter’s heart. Normal civilian here. I, er, I was never interested in all that Heart business—just too dangerous.”

“I understand,” Rhys said, “but this is a crisis situation, and you have one of the strongest auras in town. Please, can you accompany me somewhere for a simple mission? A very simple mission. …Also, do you happen to know Fly?”

If I say no, will you believe me? “I do, er, but it might take me a moment to tune myself to it.”

“Tune yourself…” Rhys frowned. “Don’t Smeargle completely lose access to a Sketched move once they tune to another? They can only have so many cling to their auras.”

How could I forget about that?! Angelo tensed, which earned a concerned look from Rhys, and that just made things worse. At this rate, he was either going to think he was a lunatic, or he was going to peg him as some kind of crisis deserter. And sure, he was that, but that didn’t mean Rhys had to know it. For shame! The Elite Heart, asking him for something in a time of crisis…

He had no choice.

“Er, right. I’m actually part of a bit of a… talented line of Smeargle. My father was the same way, and his mother, and her father, and so on… A bit obsessed with preserving the lineage, actually. Er—sorry, rambling.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you could say we have a vast aura. We can recall any move that we had Sketched; we don’t have to re-Sketch it from anybody. Sketch it once, and as long as we have time, we can relearn it just as any Pokémon can relearn a move they’d buried away.”

The more Angelo spoke, the more Rhys’ eyes seemed to light up, albeit subtly. He had a sinking feeling why.

“Angelo,” Rhys said. “Your father, I mean. He was a Heart.”

And there it is.

“Yes,” he said, bowing his head. “Died early, of course. That also runs in the family because they just can’t stop overworking themselves. So, I carry on the title. Smeargle Angelo, once Junior, now just… well, without title.”

“Your father and I were acquaintances for a time,” Rhys said, eyes showing just a small flash of nostalgia.

That only made Angelo want to shrink down further.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to talk of the past. But do you need anything before we go?”

It wasn’t even his choice to begin with, was it? “Just some time to gather my strength,” Angelo said. “What do I have to do?”

“I need you to come with me to a place across the sea. It’s a bit of a long flight, but with your power and some energy, we should be able to make it.”

Angelo had to make sure he heard him right before repeating, “Across the ocean? What do you mean, across the ocean? There’s nothing out there except… Well, nothing! There are rumors about a tiny island, but after that, you’ll just go all the way around to the north.”

“There is something there,” Rhys said. “We need to check on it, but it’s dangerous for me to go alone. If you could just come along? I also need to find one other person, another strong aura—do you happen to know any?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then I’ll continue looking. Can I meet you in Kilo’s eastern exit by noontime?”

Angelo checked the shadows outside. They were still a bit angled against the street that split Kilo in half. He had a lot of time to just duck into Ludicolo Café for a quick rest. “Sure. I’ll see you then.”

Finally left alone, Angelo rose to his feet and tiptoed his way out of the hospital. He made a lazy glance at the patient list; most of them were checked off. That was good enough. Without looking back, he slipped out and paced down the road.

A while later, Phol returned breathlessly. “Second wave of casualties is incoming. All healers gather up! We’ll need everyone!” He looked for Angelo. “Where’s Smeargle?”

<><><>​

Angelo relished his precious few seconds of isolation in Ludicolo Café. The stools were the same as always, and the tables were mostly empty—people were too busy on getting everything in order on their end, but Angelo wasn’t too concerned about that for now. Instead, he placed an order for a simple apple smoothie and closed his eyes. The Elixir shake was nice, but the bitter tang left an aftertaste that he wanted to wash away with something purely sweet. Apples were just the treat. And apples with sugar? Even better.

He made a mental note to consider healthier alternatives next time.

Yet, despite this, that bitter taste didn’t go away. Though now it was all mental—because he knew there was still one last job he had to do today, all thanks to that Elite Heart’s request.

Angelo groaned and pulled his hat down, hoping he wasn’t messing up the fur that constructed its shape. He just wanted darkness over his eyes. “Why me?” he muttered aloud.

“Um, your apple shake,” Ludicolo said, placing it on the table.

“Ah! Oh—sorry, sorry.” Angelo sprang up, straightening his hat-fur again, and then looked down at the drink. Left alone again, Angelo took a few tentative sips, and then glanced at the entrance. He half-expected to see Rhys there, waiting for him to go. And he’d probably be obligated to comply, too.

Before he knew it, his drink was empty, and he sighed. All things considered, he should probably get back, but a little longer of taking a break never hurt anyone. He looked at his paws, wondering if they were still shaking, but they were stable. Guess all I needed was a bit of sugar…

He sighed, slipping off of his seat. Perhaps a little bit of rest was what he needed after all. The little excursion could do him some good; the hospital was so depressing with everyone panicking. And he’d already healed half of them—they could handle the rest.

He left Ludicolo Café and took a deep breath of the early autumn air. Was it that time of the year already? It certainly didn’t feel like it. He should check the leaves the next time he left Kilo Village.

An uncomfortable thought crossed his mind. When was the last time he’d set foot out of the village? He usually spent most of his time at home with his commissions, or working on his comic, and only really went out to gather groceries. His last time going out, that was…

Dad…

Angelo grumbled to himself, his mood instantly soured. Maybe I can back out if I say I’m not feeling well.

A slow walk back to the hospital reminded Angelo that he’d completely forgotten where he was supposed to go to see Rhys. Did he really want to go back and be asked to do everyone’s healing again? Maybe he could sneak back home and snooze. It was about that time for an afternoon nap, too.

The hospital looked a lot more crowded than before. Before Angelo had the chance to spin on his heel to leave, his curiosity got the better of him, and he got a little closer. Phol was yelling orders at someone; other Pokémon—Angelo recognized them as healers—tripped over one another and shoved past mildly injured Pokémon in favor of others that were deeper in the facility.

A Clefable waved a Corsola in the air, scattering a cool mist through one of the rooms. Angelo tilted his head, following the two in time to feel the refreshing effects of Life Dew reenergize him. “Er—did something happen?” he asked Clefable.

“Some village northwest was attacked by a stray mutant. Some kind of—I don’t know what it was, but everyone who fought it became seriously injured. The whole village ran to bring them here.”

“Shake me again!” Corsola shouted.

Clefable complied, more Life Dew seeping into the room.

Inside, several Pokémon were lined up on the floor, varying shapes and sizes, but all of them barely conscious.

“An entire village is in the hospital right now?” Angelo said, squeaking.

“Yes—please, do you know Heal Pulse?”

“Yes, I—”

“Go to room 5E, they’re short. Hurry!”

“Okay, where’s—”

“Just follow the hall!”

Angelo sputtered an affirmative and weaved past a few more, only for the powerful grip of an Incineroar pulled him back. “Yaaah!”

“Angelo,” Phol hissed. “Where have you been?”

“I—I—”

Phol picked Angelo up and hauled him over his shoulder. “We need you in 5E, and then the neighboring rooms. They’re all critically injured.”

“Critically? How badly were they—”

“Just focus on healing and don’t focus on the injuries.”

Soon, Angelo was set back down and urged forward. Phol left before he had a chance to reply. There weren’t many healers here… The silence was ominous. The buzz behind him was muted.

“Hello?” Angelo called, stepping inside. “I’m here to—”

They were lined up on the ground, several of them unconscious or close to it. Burns—he recognized them as being from Hyper Beams, based on the circular patterns that covered most of the large ones’ bodies—and lightning scars covered most of them, and even worse. He approached the first one—a Slowking that was more black than pink. He channeled a Heal Pulse into him, washing away most of the injuries like dirt under a waterfall. Slowking groaned loudly and rolled to the side; dead scales fell away, revealing a fresh coat underneath. They looked sensitive and discolored compared to the rest—had the wounds already settled in?

No, of course they had. Without berries or Revivers or Waypoints—they had traveled all the way to Kilo Village on foot?

He moved to a Boltund next. She whined with every attempted movement, but a Heal Pulse soothed her enough so she simply fell asleep. He checked her pulse, and then her breath; both were weak, but stable.

Then there was a Druddigon, but he wasn’t moving at all. He was clutching his side, frozen in time; it looked like bandages had been hastily placed there, only for them to break open and bleed out. “Hey, it’s alright,” Angelo said softly, and then channeled a Heal Pulse into him.

Nothing happened.

“Er—” Angelo pulled his hand away, staring at the unmoving Pokémon. The blood was slowing, but he had a sinking feeling that wasn’t because of the Pulse. It pooled everywhere.

He hadn’t noticed until now, but there was a trail of blood from where he had been, all the way to the entrance, and further down the hall. “Hey, wake up,” Angelo said shakily, sending another Heal Pulse toward Druddigon. It passed through uselessly and struck a nearby Rhydon, slumped against the wall behind Druddigon. Most of the Rhydon’s wounds went away, but the fact that it passed through at all…

Angelo didn’t have any aura sense. He didn’t need it. Yet, despite this, he still shakily stepped toward Druddigon and held a paw against his neck. It sank in; he felt no pressure. His limb was stiff.

No no no no no.

He had been alive recently. Had to have been. Could he try it again? Heal Pulse—it was supposed to be easy, right? Just—just bring them back from the brink! These Pokémon were well past a usual duel’s results. A Heal Pulse was barely enough for some of them, yet…

He moved on to the next Pokémon, healing him quickly. The fatigue was starting to set in, but Angelo ignored it and healed the next, and the next. How many were left? There were at least twenty Pokémon.

Someone was crying in the other room.

His vision was fuzzy; he didn’t even know why he was doing all of this. Did he even have enough energy for the next room? He was out of practice. Been out of practice for years. Why was he here?

Keep pushing, Junior! Dig deep and find that inner power!

Angelo shook the voice from his mind. He didn’t have any energy left. And once the final Pokémon was healed, he staggered back to see his handiwork. Two of the Pokémon in the room hadn’t reacted to his Heal Pulse. The remaining twenty were anywhere between bad to stable.

“Unngh…” The Rhydon he had healed opened his eyes. The barely-healed Pokémon dizzily stared at Druddigon, smiling. He glanced at Angelo. “Thanks…” And then, he tried to reach for Druddigon. “Dad… Looks like we made it…”

It felt as if Angelo’s temperature had halved. The last thing he saw was Rhydon holding his father’s dead shoulder; after that, Angelo bolted.

<><><>​

A bright green blur raced through the dark forest, tearing through dead branches and leaving nothing but a storm of twigs behind. “Rrgh, it all looks the same! C’mon!” Gahi twisted around and slammed his tail on the ground. Molten earth erupted behind him, followed by a shriek. A blob of darkness dissipated into nothing but smoke.

“Yeah, don’t think yeh can sneak up on me that easy,” he growled.

He glanced at the sky, hoping that he’d have some vague sense of time, but that was useless with how it was just red, always. He didn’t know why he even bothered. He was obviously trapped in some kind of nightmare-realm made by Anam’s demon spirit, so that probably meant he was somewhere in the Ghost Orb. This was a pretty big Orb, since apparently it went on forever!

Owen’s latent knowledge about flying in a random direction to go into Aether Forest didn’t work, either. So, he was obviously also trapped in the Ghost Orb.

He also had a vague feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be going in circles. Instead, he had the slightest feeling that he had to go forward, which he felt was supposed to be southeast. He felt something in that direction. What was it? Hopefully something that was less monotonous than a bunch of useless crystals. Still, it bugged him if he left those behind—and so, he now had three diamond-shaped gems in his claws, each one a different color.

A few more quick dashes through the forest, the dead trees a blur that only he could comprehend, and he suddenly stopped and listened.

Going above the treetops was a bad idea. The last time he’d tried that, he couldn’t even count the number of dark beams that came from the forest from all directions. His shoulder still ached from that attempt. So, instead, the Flygon grunted and followed the now slightly stronger feeling to the left. Yes, where was that coming from?

He crept through the last of the trees and sensed movement. But at the same time, that movement stopped. Gahi narrowed his eyes, trying to tune his hearing for anything odd. His antennae twitched, but they wouldn’t be nearly as useful as Owen’s horns. Too bad he wasn’t around to help.

Gahi suppressed a growl and crept forward again. Something was ahead, but he didn’t have the instincts to creep forward the way a feral would. He folded his wings back, worried that even a strong breeze would make them whistle, but in his distracted shuffling, he stepped on a fragile twig. Gritting his teeth, he stared forward, but he heard nothing.

One more move. It was right behind the tree. Was it friend or foe? Should he call out? No, that could give him away, if it was an enemy.

He knew what he had to do. Just grab it. Grab it quickly—he had the speed—and figure out what to do after that. Maybe pin it down, or toss it in the air.

Gahi tensed his muscles and felt the aura around his body shift, readying for a blink-speed run. He’d only have a split-second, but that was all he needed.

One moment, he was in front of the tree, and in another, his green, gleaming body was on the opposite side in a blurry curve. He grabbed the hiding creature and shouted, “Hah!”

But it was just a mound of dirt and twigs under his claws. “Eh—”

Something lightweight slammed on the back of his neck, earning an irritated grunt. “What’s—” He tried to reach for it, but a thin vine smacked his hand away. “Yow! Oy! What’s yer—”

“It’s rude to sneak up on someone like that,” said a familiar, yet extremely high-pitched voice.

Gahi spun around, but something stuck to his shoulder. He reached for it, feeling a thick, tough vine. Pulling it forward, the rest of the creature followed, dangling in front of him with an irritated glare.

“…Trina?” Gahi said to the Snivy.

“If the accent is anything to go by, you’re Gahi?” Trina said. “I hope this isn’t how you normally greet others.”

“Eh—no.” Gahi didn’t let go of her, though. “And yer a Snivy because…?”

“It isn’t really something I know the answer to,” Trina said. “How ironic that despite the fact that I take care of your kind, I wound up being the first one to be reduced to my lowest form.”

“So yeh really never devolved any of ‘em?” Gahi said.

“No. I hadn’t considered it. I only wanted to put them in a more stable mental state.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Figure you wouldn’t’ve known about that whole thing.” Gahi tilted his head left and right. “Guess you just turned ‘em inter yer soldiers instead.”

Trina’s huge eyes narrowed to a glare. “I didn’t turn them into soldiers,” she said. “I gave them all the opportunity to leave if they wished.”

“Yeah, after brainwashing them.” Gahi shrugged.

“I wasn’t—”

“Look, it’s fine. If you wanna get in a philosophy debate about yer methods, go talk ter Owen when I find the guy. I don’t care. It was like yeh said, right? We’re mutants, so we choose who we wanna fight, but we’re fighters. You just gave ‘em a choice.”

Trina blinked, but then shook her head. “You don’t understand what I was actually doing for them, do you? Just because I can alter the mind doesn’t mean I do.”

“But yer the Bug Guardian. Don’t those guys kinda like workin’ in hives and all that?”

“What an awful stereotype! Perhaps for feral Combee, but—”

“They call you Queen Trina.”

Trina opened her mouth to retort, but she interrupted herself several times. Eventually, she just sighed and said, “That was something they came up with themselves. I didn’t enforce it.”

“Uh-huh. Didn’t stop it, either.”

The Snivy growled, her one vine twitching in Gahi’s grip while the rest of her body hung limply in thin patience. “I suppose I’ll just wait for Owen, then.”

Gahi shrugged. “Maybe we c’n figure out why yeh got all tiny, too. But, heh, well, yeh look cuter that way, so that’s a start.”

Trina growled. “I’m not supposed to look cute. I have a regal image to keep up! If my subjects saw me like this…” She glared at the gnarled tree roots. “We need to find a way out of here that doesn’t involve being burned away.”

“Eh? What’re yeh getting at?”

Trina didn’t reply immediately, her expression becoming pensive. Gahi wondered if she was trying to gather exactly what she meant for herself; burning away? He didn’t feel anything like that, aside from getting blasted by shadows, but he had shaken that off. It had been more like a cold burn, too.

“It’s how I became a Snivy, or at least, what might have led to it.” Trina motioned in a vague direction behind her. “I was exploring this forest for some sort of landmark—as a Serperior—and found a distortion. It was a Dungeon. But once I found the exit, I felt myself… evaporating. I had been in such a rush to get away from the Dungeon, though, that I couldn’t get back in time before I realized what was happening. The next thing I know…” Trina frowned, motioning to herself with her arms. “Everything goes dark. There was this horrible feeling in that darkness—I fought against it, somehow, and… woke up here. As a Snivy.”

“Huh…”

“I premise the same didn’t happen to you,” Trina said, eyes going up and down his Flygon body.

“Nope.” Gahi leaned forward and bumped the top of his head under Trina, earning a surprised shout. Gahi grabbed a vine that had reflexively shot from her shoulder and brought it down to his neck. “Guess yer gonna ride on me fer a bit.”

“This is degrading.”

“Oh, okay,” Gahi said, plucking Trina off. He dropped her to the ground, where she landed with a soft pomf against the dusty ground.

Trina tried to dust herself off with her vines—her tiny arms were almost as useless as when she had mere leaves for hands as a Serperior—and then looked at Gahi’s thigh. Humiliating—so small that she’d been reduced to thigh-height…

She didn’t need to look up to know Gahi was smirking.

“You’re mocking me.”

“Wanna walk on yer own?”

Trina crossed her vines and turned her head away. “I said it was degrading. I’m not going back on that.”

“Bah! Get over it.” He thumped his tail on the ground. “If yer that low ter the ground, and somethin’ attacks, no tellin’ what it’ll be, got it? So get over it, go on my head, and you’ll be safer.”

“Really, you want that?” Trina said. “After all you just ranted to me about?”

“Ranted? C’mon, I’m just sayin’ the truth. Besides, yer still an ally, ev’n if yer methods’re shady.”

“Yet you’d still lower yourself to carrying me.”

Gahi couldn’t squint his eyes further. “You just said it was degrading, what’re you—”

“Yes, I did. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about—”

“So what’s that make me, super-degraded?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what, you just—”

“Hold.” Trina raised a vine.

Despite how tiny she was, Gahi listened with an irritated snort. A small plume of indigo fire escaped his nostrils.

Trina lowered her vine and watched Gahi’s tail as it thumped on the ground, kicking up a small plume of dirt from a dry patch of the ground. “Yes,” Trina said. “I said it was degrading, to let me ride you. And I don’t want to perpetuate your feelings by doing that, if that’s how you’re going to be. I won’t play that game.”

“Game? What in Mew’s pink a—this ain’t a game, I was offerin’! You gotta drop yer pride and accept it.”

“…Excuse me? Drop my pride?” Trina rubbed her eyes irritably. “I don’t understand you. I have no pride to drop here. Putting you in a lower position would mean you would be shedding your pride.”

It was Gahi’s turn to rub his eyes, even going so far as to pluck off his lenses and groan. “Baaah, I don’t get you! Yer small! I’m big! Ride me!”

“Even after what you said? I thought you wouldn’t want to be a soldier.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“Then you don’t find it degrading?”

“Well, maybe fer you.”

“I don’t find it degrading at all.”

“BUT YOU JUST—” Gahi’s claws squeezed together, then tugged at his huge antennae. “You said it was degrading.”

“For you.”

Gahi blinked at this, trying to repay what little of the argument he could remember. It had gone so quickly that he couldn’t even remember precisely what had started it.

While Gahi snapped his lenses back on, Trina continued. “It’s degrading to you to carry me. If you feel that I treat your kind as servants, I’m not going to put you in that same position.”

“That… wha…” Gahi felt a headache coming on. “I don’t care about that. I ain’t yer servant. I’m just helpin’ you.”

The Snivy continued to stare, vines crossed. “…And you’re sure? It’s as I said. I won’t let someone offer their services to me if it means they’re lower.”

“N… nah, that ain’t how I see it.” Gahi squeezed his left antennae thoughtfully, ignoring the disorienting feeling that it gave him. “Yer small. That’s it. Willow did th’ same thing.”

“I don’t care much for Willow’s treatment of others.” Trina frowned and concentrated her focus on Gahi’s left, gleaming wing. “But if you truly don’t mind, then I will ride you.”

“Yeah, jus’ phrase that better next time,” Gahi said, leaning forward to pick up the slightly flustered Snivy from the ground again. “Were you really gonna just go on foot if I got all offended?”

“Yes.” Trina looked down. “I know that your group would be unsure of me and my methods, and even if I try to prove myself, that lingering doubt remains. I don’t want to exacerbate it if I don’t need to.”

“Mm. So that’s how it is, eh?” Gahi frowned.

“What do you mean?” Trina mirrored his expression.

“Nah, nothin’. Just… didn’t think you actually cared.”

A confused silence permeated Trina’s general aura. During that time, Gahi leaned forward and helped Trina onto his head again, and then started walking.

The Flygon puffed out a small plume of dragon fire. “I thought all the stuff you said was just sweet nothin’ stuff. Trying to win us over, y’know, manipulate more people to join yer ranks. Guess I’m just paranoid after bein’, y’know, created ter be a weapon.”

Trina shifted her weight; Gahi felt that she was leaning forward, resting her chin between his antennae. She wrapped her vines around his neck, finding a good equilibrium.

“Figure I owe yeh an apology fer that,” Gahi muttered. “Y’ain’t so bad, if y’were gonna go without a ride just ter prove a point.”

“It was petty,” Trina said, looking away. “I would not have gotten far on my own. I had spent most of my time hiding since I woke up as a Snivy.”

“Mm.” Gahi tried to look up, but couldn’t see her.

Trina chuckled, finally resting her full weight on the top of his head, rather than resting on her shoulders. “Gahi?”

“Yeah?”

“I suppose I owe you a bit of an apology, too. You’re much more intelligent than I gave you credit for.”

Gahi grumbled, flapping his wings once. “What, just because I talk funny, I’m stupid?”

“No. I just know you from how Lygo used to be,” Trina said. “Headstrong, perhaps more interested in the fastest way to fix something than a more careful approach?”

He couldn’t deny that one.

“But you wouldn’t have gotten this far without at least a little intelligence. And the way you ended up trying to evaluate me…” Trina shrugged. “I think that was something unexpected of you.”

A wind blew through the forest and her leafy tail tickled his neck. He tried to ignore it. Gahi’s attention turned back to the forest and its dull repetitiveness

“Do you have a destination in mind?” Trina asked.

“Just followin’ my gut,” Gahi said, holding up his claws to show the three crystals he’d been carrying.

“Hm? What are these?”

“Dunno. Keep pickin’ these things up. Every time I get a feeling that there’s somethin’ there, I find these.”

“I see…”

“And I also felt it when I ran inter you. So what, you got one?”

“No, I don’t. But I had a similar feeling… Though, I was too small to get close. And it felt a bit aimless.”

“Got any better ideas on where ter go?”

“Well, no.”

Gahi shrugged, nearly making Trina lose her balance on his head. “Eh, sorry,” he mumbled, keeping his head steady. “If I had better shoulders, I’d put yeh there.”

“It’s not a problem.” She wrapped her vines more firmly around his neck—which was much thicker than she was—and asked, “Then we just keep searching until we find something new?”

“Yep.”

Trina sighed. “Very well. And hopefully we can find something to eat, too. I don’t know why, but… I’ve been hungry for the first time in… generations. My Mystic powers are suppressed, perhaps?”

“Maybe.” Gahi nodded to himself. “I haven’t been Mystic all that long. I only know that from Owen. Guess it must be weird needin’ sleep and food all over again. Heh. Privileged existence, if y’ask me.”

“Hmph. I suppose it was, but it’s only a fair exchange for everything we have to deal with.”

“Heh.” Gahi smirked in reply, but he didn’t disagree. He wasn’t really sure what to think about the fact that he was a Guardian, too—or at least, for a fleeting moment, he used to be. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside him, he still had that Psychic power. He just had to awaken it again.

“Let’s keep going,” Trina said. “Maybe we’ll find—”

A bolt of lightning, followed immediately by a bone-shattering thunderclap, knocked loose branches from their flimsy trees.

Trina looked up; she had seen the bolt, black like Kilo Village’s crater. She squinted at what she thought was something blue in the otherwise red sky. “…Hm. I think I found that something.”

“Eh?” Gahi followed the vine Trina used to point. “…A Druddigon?”

“You said flying above the trees is dangerous,” Trina said. “How quickly can you weave between them?”

“Watch me.” Gahi crouched down, predicted the Druddigon’s landing site, and disappeared in a green blur.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 83 – Stew​

If it wasn’t for how thirsty he was, he would have been crying for a lot longer, but some part of Owen kept that from happening. He still couldn’t accept it. Amia…

He couldn’t remember what cave she had been left behind in. And he had no way to sense where she had gone, either. He was lucky enough to have the sense to bring the green crystal with him, but now that Amia was gone, he couldn’t sense where she had been. It must have been tied to her aura.

Now, all Owen could do was follow that smell of stew. It was weaker than the day before—maybe because there was less of it—but that also meant there had been a lot before. Surely, they would have some to spare for him.

At this point, Owen had been more focused on one step after the other than anything else. He didn’t want to think too much about what had happened, not until he had food in him. Otherwise… Perhaps he’d wind up seeing Amia a lot sooner than intended.

Another rumble shook the ground—they were becoming more frequent lately—and Owen dashed to one of the rocks, ducking behind each one now that the rumbles were so close.

He was starting to get reckless and desperate. The smell was so strong. He had to be close.

A booming shockwave cracked above him. Owen fell to the floor, covering the top of his head. Another one of those roars followed—the windy shriek of a giant. He whimpered loudly, trying to drown it out, until it finally passed. His chest felt like mush, yet his heart felt tight. He gasped for breath, not realizing that he had held it for so long. The very end of a dark blast, its faded particles shimmering like black-purple sparks, flew far above him.

They were different from the corrupted light that had been used to suppress his evolution, yet the colors still reminded him of that. And that, in turn, reminded him of his tiny, Charmander body.

At least it meant he wouldn’t have to find as much food to support himself.

What was that blast? Owen looked up again, but the rumbles were becoming louder. He had to hurry if he wanted to avoid it. He continued to duck between larger rocks, using what little energy he had to sprint between the ones that were too far away, until he spotted a small cave.

He had to risk it. The smell was strongest from there.

He was mere steps away from the entrance when a shadow in the corner of his vision crawled across the ground. He stared at it, then looked up on reflex. His pupils narrowed in terror—something black was flying in the sky. He didn’t have time to judge the size or whether it saw him—he only scampered into the cave, not looking back, and then tripped over a small, raised platform.

“Urf—” He didn’t smash his face this time, at least. The ground shook again and a few loose rocks hit the dusty ground outside. Softer. It was going away. And he didn’t see that flying creature’s shadow, either.

With the immediate danger out of the way, he could finally focus on his surroundings. He brought his tail forward, holding it like a torch, and found nothing but a large, stone pot in the middle, over a dying fire made from wood that he recognized as being from the forest.

Without thinking, he ran toward the pot—which was twice his height—and tried to think of how to get inside. He scanned for any wraiths, but found none. There didn’t seem to be any traps—but who else could make traps like him? He just had to climb up and get some.

Little bowls were scattered around nearby. Had this place been recently abandoned? Probably because of that huge titan. Could it smell the food? That would’ve gotten its attention…

Owen pressed his hand against the stone bowl, hoping it was light enough that he could at least roll it to get inside. The moment he did, he felt a jolt of energy rush through him. He yelped in surprise and pulled his hand back, shivering—it was warm, but it also felt like he had been hit by one of Enet’s sparks. He poked it again and felt the same spark—so that was the trap.

The food was right there and he couldn’t even eat it.

Some primal part of the Charmander made him pace around the bowl several times in a wide circle, looking for an opening. There had to be something he could get out of this—anything! How could he tip a bowl over without touching it? Or did he just have to power through it? No, even then, he was too weak. It was probably too heavy.

If only it wasn’t hooked up with a trap!

A trap…

Owen looked at his feet, a thoughtful chirp escaping him. What if he…

Owen stomped his foot near the base of the bowl, channeling a bit of energy into the ground. Then, for good measure, he did another—feeling the strain on his body. He had to stop there.

He took a few steps back. Narrowing his eyes at the base, he tried to activate them remotely. Just a little more… Ugh, I can’t concentrate… He could only think about the food inside. He grabbed a pebble instead and readied a Protect in case it went flying back at him. He tossed it onto the trap, using it as a focus, and then crossed his arms.

The explosion tipped the bowl over completely, the contents sloshing heavily. Some of it spilled out, but it looked like the pot had only been a fifth of the way full. Still, that was more than enough for him, and Owen let out a series of celebratory chirps and embers into the air. He scrambled to the stew, not caring that it was only warm and not hot. Manners were a thing of the past; he shoved his hands into the brownish-red porridge, pulling out chunks of meat and berries without thought. He even saw some of that tree taffy in the mix, but he didn’t care. Food! It was food!

Owen sniffled, taking a break to blink away a few of his tears, and kept eating. It’s so good, he thought to himself, his desperate sobs of relief the only thing that kept him from eating even faster.

I’m a mess, Owen thought, trying to calm himself down once he realized how savage he’d been. But if those strange dreams were anything to go by… what if that’s just how he was? No—there was more to it. Even feral Pokémon—at least, his mother… his—was that his mother? And not Amia, but…

It gave him a headache. The food was more important for now. Those dreams were fleeting at most; maybe if he got another, he could actually try to focus on remembering them a little more.

Owen winced—there was something hard in the stew. He spat it out. “Oh, gross…”

It was a piece of bone. Part of something a lot larger than him. Shaking his head, he looked into the stew for more pieces, realizing that whatever they had put in this giant pot, they had put it in whole, or at least were… very averse to being wasteful about it.

Why did they run off, anyway?

The thought was fleeting. Curiosity and hunger got the better of him, and he dug through the stew to get rid of more of the bones. Couldn’t eat that without messing up his gut, after all. He already bled on the outside; bleeding on the inside would just make things worse.

He wondered where the other bones had gone. He looked around, just to be sure he didn’t miss any, and raised his tail. Now that his energy was back, his flame was a lot brighter.

His heart leapt up into his chest—there were bones around, stripped clean of flesh. He recognized a few as bones he’d expect from a limb, and others, vertebrae. Thinner, longer bones suggested wing-like appendages, too… Were those claws?

Owen shuddered and looked inside the stew again. There was something lumpy at the very bottom of the tasty slop. Out of morbid curiosity, he reached forward. The only sort of bone he hadn’t seen yet was the skull.

What exactly did they wind up cooking? Owen thought, tugging hard against the lump. It was heavy—maybe as heavy as he was! It’s so big! No wonder they had spent so long cooking it. This pot must have been full the first time he’d come across the scent.

He pulled a little harder, but then yelped—he broke off part of the skull. It was certainly a skull, just based on the vague shape. What had come off—to easily—was a pointed horn of some kind. Then again, it had probably been cooking at the bottom for a while. Owen discarded it and tried to pull out the rest of the skull.

With a bit more tugging, he finally pulled it free, the stew falling out of the empty holes left in the head. He grimaced at first, regretting that he’d pulled it out at all. Gross. Maybe he should have waited until he wasn’t hungry anymore to do this inspection.

More of the stew fell from the skull, and he started to get a better idea of what shape it had. The lower jaw was missing—probably somewhere at the bottom of the bowl, still buried. The top of the skull was a lot longer than it was tall. Long snout. Intense eye sockets, too. And—

Oh, Mew, it’s a Charizard.

Owen dropped the skull into the vat and took a few shaky steps back. Did he just—there was so much, and—

He stepped on the horn again and kicked it away with a shriek. Dizziness from breathing too fast forced him to sit down, holding his head. His stomach churned harshly, it was rising up, hot, stinging bile in the back of his throat. He clenched his jaws tight and clamped his claws over it for extra measure, then clenched the back of his throat.

It would be even worse if it came back out. He didn’t want to see it again. He couldn’t bear to look at the bowl, either. The Charmander wobbled toward the wall, placing one hand on the rocks, as his tail crackled loudly.

“That didn’t happen. That didn’t…”

It kept flashing in his head. Those empty eyes in the skull, leaking stew from all over. It slid off of the skull where the scales had once been, mixing with the red stew. The pointed horn that had come off so easily, nothing but a firm tug needed to break the bone. How long had it been there, festering? How long had…

Pointed horn?

Owen glanced back at where he’d kicked it away.

Something about this picture didn’t fit, and the nagging feeling finally pulled him out of his spiral. He looked back at the horn again, inspecting it more closely. Charizard didn’t have pointed horns like that, like it curved upward. Those were mutant horns. Or maybe some subspecies that he didn’t know about. But…

He checked the head again, careful not to look at its face, or whatever was left of it. One horn was still left. And even though most of the flesh had been cooked away, there was still…

Click.

It popped off with just a firm tug.

For a while, all Owen did was stare. He wasn’t horrified anymore. Confused, maybe. Baffled? Was that the feeling? He tried to analyze his own thoughts, but then refocused back on the horn.

His horn.

He was the only Charizard in the world to have detachable horns. Har, and all the others of his kind, could turn down their Perceive naturally. But he couldn’t. He had to physically remove his horns to stop the sense from overwhelming him.

“It’s… it’s me. H-ha, it’s… it’s me!” Owen tossed the head—his old head—back into the pot, laughing with wide, incredulous eyes.

Was he supposed to feel better or worse about eating it, now? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He laughed for a little while longer, settling down into little, disjointed chuckles. The energy from the meal was starting to get to him.

Charizard stew! With only the finest herbs and berries. It cooked itself.

Finally calm enough to grab a small bowl—he gave himself permission to eat his own carcass—he dipped it into the overturned pot. If anything, he could get another helping with some dignity to make up for the circumstances.

Because despite everything, there was a new fire in him that wasn’t just from the food. His thoughts, now sharper, came to one new conclusion with this surprising piece of information. While he tried to ignore the twisting of his stomach—either because the stew tasted funny, or because of this new realization—he only let that fuel the flame.

Upon first landing in the wastes, he had fallen so hard that everything in his body broke. Had he been a Charizard? If that was the case… He had died then. He had died, lost part of himself, somehow—he was familiar with the feeling at this point—and became a Charmander. If he died again, would he lose even more of himself?

Only now he understood: Amia was not safe and sound in the aura sea, nor was she in the Fire Realm.

She was still here.

Somewhere out there, wandering as a Ralts.

<><><>​

The smell of paint welcomed him like an old friend. Trembling hands grabbed a nearby can—that he’d produced a while ago from his tail, but it was still fresh and ready for use—and inspected the nearby bucket of dirty water next to it.

Angelo wasn’t in the right mindset to paint. He wasn’t the sort of insane artist who could only draw when he was feeling particularly flustered. In fact, he couldn’t paint at all with how much his hands were shaking, his heart pounding, his legs threatening to shatter like the last few twigs of a tree in Void Forest.

It was just him and the dusty, stuffy, warm, inviting darkness. The Smeargle waded through piles of crumpled papers, heavy and stuck together in a flaky wad from all the paint that covered each one, and into the back room where a small container filled with cold berries sat. The Orb inside had gone out—some sort of slow-burn Hail Orb to keep the insides cool—but he opened it very quickly so the cold would be preserved for what little remained within.

A Pecha and an Oran. Not blessed—though even if they had been, they weren’t anymore—and just for a little treat. He started with the Pecha, savoring it, but it didn’t stop his shaking. Were there Chesto Berries in those drinks at the café? No, that wasn’t it.

He heard a distant scream outside for Arceus knows why. His blood froze instantly, followed shortly by his heart, as terror gripped his chest. He didn’t move, and he only realized a few seconds later that he’d crushed the Pecha in his hand. After muttering a soft curse, he grabbed a nearby paper and wiped the sticky remnants on it, tossing it on the dusty pile of trash. Clean that up later, he thought to himself for the umpteenth time.

It wasn’t worth checking. He was done. No more healing, no more chaos, just his home, his art, his darkness, his quiet, his solitude. The most interaction he’d never need is for making little art commissions, client requests. Sure, some were a bit hard to deal with, but at least they weren’t dying. Dying for his work, sure, but not drifting away to the spirit realm.

Angelo realized that he didn’t want to paint with red, perhaps ever. How limiting would that be for his art in the future? Was he being overdramatic? The fact that he felt his Pecha Berry coming back up suggested otherwise.

He needed to distract himself some other way. Perhaps an early afternoon nap. Maybe he could work on that request from that strange Espeon. That painting didn’t have any red, did it? Why was his fur suddenly standing on end?

“Angelo.”

Some mixture of a silent scream and a whimper bounced around his throat. Unable to look back, he only froze, hoping that it was his imagination. When it was clear it wasn’t, he then hoped that Rhys would just leave him alone.

He didn’t, and he should have known he wouldn’t. In fact, he was walking closer, into his home, seeing all this mess—clients weren’t supposed to see this, this was his private room, why was he breaking into his house and trespassing? Just because he was a Heart, he had the right to barge into anywhere he pleased? Oh, gods, he was right next to him. What now? His body didn’t move. He was a feral Rattata facing down an Arbok.

Rhys’ paw gently held Angelo’s shoulder, squeezing the life out of him. “Are you all right?”

His voice still didn’t come to him. Instead, Angelo choked out a small squeak, then another sputter, and then shook his head. He was far from fine, yet he couldn’t say it aloud. Mixtures of shame and evasion had his throat sealed.

“What happened?” Rhys said, sweeping aside the mess nearby with his foot like it was the most normal thing in the world. He sat down next to Angeo, crossing his legs.

Something finally escaped him. “I can’t go,” he said.

“I can see that,” Rhys said gently, still holding onto his shoulder. “I was waiting for you in front of the Heart HQ. When you didn’t show up, I checked the hospital…”

Angelo couldn’t hide his shudder. “I can’t go back there.”

“Angelo, why? You nearly surpassed my healing,” Rhys said. “Yes, I had to replenish my strength—I’m not tuned to healing—but you…”

“I can’t go back!” Angelo shouted again. “I—I’m not built for blood. I’m sorry. But I’ve done all I can, and I can’t… I can’t…”

More silence followed, the dusty air wrapping Angelo in what little comfort he had left with the intruder in his home. He couldn’t tell Rhys to go away; he was an Elite. The only one left in town. The fighter. And he was telling Angelo to go and help. Just like his father. The one that Rhys probably saw when he looked at the Smeargle before him. His father who worked himself to an early grave all for the name of others.

Angelo wasn’t a Heart; that was his father. Maybe Rhys had to see that.

“I’ll come later,” Rhys said. “The hospital might be getting another wave, and we can use your Heal Pulse. Can you also Sketch Life Dew from someone? Anything will help.”

There was no escaping it. One way or the other, Rhys was going to force him to get involved. And how could he say no? He heard his father’s words echoing in his mind again.

It’s our duty, Angelo. Our ancestor didn’t work toward this power for us to squander it! Now, come on! Let’s try another Dungeon! I’ll help you draw later!

“Angelo?” Rhys said. “Your aura is… very unstable. Please, if there’s anything you need…”

“I—I’m fine,” Angelo said. If he said the truth, Rhys would just echo his father’s words. “I—I just need to rest. I’m fatigued from the healing. Later this afternoon, I’ll come back, I just—”

“I understand.” Rhys nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

“And what about that flying trip you wanted to take?” Angelo said. “You—needed someone who could fly.”

“I needed someone powerful who could fly, but right now, securing the injured in Kilo is more important. I’ll… find some other way to contact them later.”

“How would you do that? Are there any Waypoints you could—oh.”

Rhys smiled sadly, nodding. “It’s not very easy. If there was a way to remotely contact them, that would be wonderful, but…” He paused, looking at Angelo’s paw thoughtfully. Rhys finally let go of his shoulder and hummed. “Remotely… Arceus…”

“What?” Angelo asked. “Arceus? Destiny Tower, from the Books, appeared, didn’t it? You’re planning on flying all the way there?”

“No. I won’t have to.” Rhys stood up. “I should have realized it sooner.”

Angelo figured they should have realized a lot of things sooner, but in all the chaos, they’ve just been trying to put out the immediate fires. “What did you realize?”

“I could just send a prayer to Arceus,” Rhys said. “Star mentioned that she could hear prayers—surely it’s the same for Arceus… Rrgh, but I can’t remember if he’s particular about what sort of address you’d make…”

“O Lord, hear my plea, and by Your Grace may it be answered,” Angelo recited like the chemical formula for sugar.

Rhys blinked, but then nodded in recognition. “Of course, your father must have taught you that. Thank you.”

Angelo said nothing and Rhys stood up, bringing his paws together. The weight over Angelo’s shoulders lifted slightly, but only slightly, when the Lucario finally exited his home.

“Fighting Pokémon,” Angelo muttered to himself. “So imposing…” He knew that wasn’t it.

With Rhys gone, he looked at the uneaten Oran Berry next to him and frowned. He rolled it for a while, forward and back, and then eventually watched it bump into the corner of the room. The pile of discarded papers leered at him—what are you going to do now, failure? Add to me, clean me up, or are you just going to run away again?

Angelo retreated to his bedroom.

<><><>​

Far to the east of Kilo Village, atop Destiny Tower in a late afternoon sun, Arceus stood near the edge of his domain and stared at the settled vortex in the faraway horizon. Dark Matter stopped his advance. Perhaps he’d finally realized that so long as Arceus remained active, he couldn’t advance. Did that mean he was unable to claim Star’s power? What had happened to her, then? Perhaps the same could be said for the other Guardians he’d claimed; perhaps there was hope yet.

But it was all speculation for now. Dark Matter could have been waiting for him to bring down his guard; attacking the vortex while it was down didn’t seem to do anything, either. Should he approach? …No, that was too risky.

O Lord, hear my plea, and by Your Grace may it be answered.

Another one from Kilo Village, from the feeling of it. He had been getting a lot of those, and while he typically listened to them without any direct acknowledgement, this one was a familiar voice.

The prayer continued. Kilo Village is stabilizing, but we have a great influx of outside villagers in grave conditions. Mutants are running rampant in isolated pockets across Kilo. The Dungeons are amok with wraiths. We need time to recover; is there anything you can do to help? How is the Trinity? Guardian realms are being invaded by wraiths, and I do not have the mobility, currently, to investigate. Manny and Willow may look after them, if needed. Er… I suppose if you have a means to communicate with me…

Did he? He did. Just as he’d reached out to Owen, he could reach out to Rhys, though a god interfering with mortals—or whatever Rhys counted as—wasn’t something Arceus was very keen on doing.

But he and Rhys had already communicated before, and he felt he had a stronger connection to the Lucario, anyway.

Fine. If only because it pertained to the Trinity and Dark Matter and a great crisis. Hello, Rhys. The Trinity is fine and where they should be. I am on Destiny Tower, making sure that Dark Matter is not advancing and keeping my Judgement charged.

It took a little while to hear Rhys again; Arceus imagined he was stunned in getting a reply. Perhaps he was also feeling honored in being graced by a reply at all by his almighty Creator.

Almighty once he got his Hands back, at least…

You can’t eradicate him outright? Rhys asked.

The ignorance stung, but Arceus didn’t let it show. No. I can only suppress him, and he is currently idle. I cannot sense any power charging within the dark vortex.

I see. Then it’s safe for you to descend? We could use your assistance.

The idea disgusted him on reflex, but a rational side suggested that what Rhys was asking for wasn’t unreasonable. In this time of great crisis, would he not be at least slightly obligated to descend and help?

Very well. I shall descend. Alert the town and I will depart.

He supposed that waiting wasn’t totally out of the question, but he did want to at least help, and standing around, while habitual and familiar, was making him restless. That void in the sky wasn’t going anywhere, after all, and he hadn’t been able to appear in the mortal world for so long…

But it was a little unbecoming of him, too.

A gentle gust of wind ruffled his fur and making an ethereal whistling noise through the wheel that wrapped itself around his abdomen. His heart fluttered; wind… How long had it been since he’d felt a genuine breeze? It hadn’t crossed his mind all this time. He was ashamed to admit it—and he never would to anybody else—but feeling the wind over his fur was something he didn’t know he had wanted.

The sunlight was next: warm against the gray skin of his face, trapped in his fur for what little of the heat broke through its white surface. He stepped uncertainly toward the edge of the tower, admiring—admiring the autumn forest to the south, its leaves halfway between orange and green.

This was the world he ruled; the world he had to defend against Dark Matter. And with Star out of the way, perhaps he finally could.

Are you able to teleport here now? Rhys called.

Snapping from his thoughts, Arceus prepared himself. I am. I’ll sense for your aura…

It wasn’t that difficult to find; Rhys was distinct to him, and zeroing in on his position was only a few steps away from trivial.

In a flash of light, Arceus disappeared from the top of Destiny Tower and reappeared in the middle of town. Almost instantly, he heard loud shouts and gasps in surprise, and he tilted his head upward to bask in their inevitable reverence.

“Indeed,” Arceus said, projecting his voice for everyone in the square. “It is I, Arceus, here to—”

An earth-shattering SNAP filled the air, followed by a heavy, chest-shaking rumble. Far to the north, just over the horizon, a puddle of black ink spilled over the clouds and ate away at the sky. It crawled out in rapid and ravenous branches, tearing the light away from the day.

Within seconds, it was halfway to Kilo Village.

Arceus summoned his light and fired a volley of quick, arcing beams of white light—it was a sloppy Judgement, and he hoped that would be enough to stall it in time to prepare a proper one. He ignored the screams and startled shouts, as well as Rhys calling for everyone to calm down.

“Arceus, what’s happening?” Rhys asked for them all.

“Nothing to concern yourselves over,” Arceus said as the blasts of light cut through the darkness. It slowed the advance, but more ink pooled over the sky. Cursing mentally, Arceus focused and, in a flash of light, disappeared from Kilo as quickly as he’d arrived, and the cool breeze of Destiny Tower’s top greeted him. Here, he could draw from his power the most, where the spirit world met the living world.

His light redoubled, and then he fired at the expanding darkness. The great arms of creation crawled across the sky.

<><><>​

Complete pandemonium and panic shattered whatever order Kilo Village had left. Rhys couldn’t deny it himself; his heart was beating out of his chest. He stared helplessly at the expanding darkness that raced Arceus’ Judgement.

“Ev-everyone get inside!” Rhys shouted, having no idea whether that would be even close to useful against the sky literally disappearing. He raised his arms above his head and charged an Aura Sphere several times larger than his head, firing it at the sky. It flew slowly; a shadow crept over Kilo Village in a blink’s worth of time, and suddenly it was a night without stars.

The glow of Rhys’ blast lit the street for a few seconds, bathing it in bright cyan. Another bright light—ADAM’s Hyper Beam—lit up another part of town and beat the Sphere’s pace. When the Hyper Beam struck, a splotch of light tore through the void, revealing the sky that was indeed still there.

An orb of lunar energy followed, and then a feeble, fist-shaped Aura Sphere right after from Manny’s attempt at a strike as a spirit. So, they hadn’t left yet? Good, because leaving was useless at this point. And then came a volley of flames from an aura he didn’t fully recognize, and then a speedy, successive blast of rocks.

Where were all those attacks coming from?

“Attack, attack!” shouted a Weavile to Rhys’ left, flinging high-speed Ice Shards at the blackening sky. “Ugh! I can’t get high enough!”

“Allow me!” A Mawile dipped her second set of jaws beneath Weavile and hurled him upward; he followed up with even more Ice Shards before flipping in the air and landing with a stumble.

Several more Pokémon followed up, carving tiny holes in the oppressive night. Waves of light followed from the north, explosive shocks disturbing small pebbles from their resting places on the ground. The holes in the sky remained for much longer, and a follow-up Hyper Beam from ADAM carved a permanent gash through it.

Rhys sensed something forming within the clouds. The same tingling sensation he felt when energy and aura gathered for a powerful strike.

But then, as quickly as it came, it faded, instead replaced by another volley of Judgement spears. The civilians struck for a second time, this time led by ghostly Marowak riding atop an Arcanine, throwing a flaming Bone Club toward a particularly dark patch of the sky. Unfortunately, it fell short.

Rhys wondered if, had they not been on a mountain, the thought of trying to strike the sky would have been laughable. Still, it was well below the clouds.

Another explosion knocked the wind out of Rhys and forced him to his knees, as well as several of the other Pokémon in the area. That wasn’t a normal shockwave; it rocked him down to his very spirit. Some Pokémon had passed out from the shock, waking up seconds later. He had sensed their very auras violently eject from their bodies, returning to their living shells seconds later.

Light returned to the sky in slow waves, the black sheets fading into the nothing that it had come from. A tense and heavy silence followed, nobody daring to speak. All eyes were on the horizon, which finally lost its ominous, dark aura. Already, Pokémon mumbled about Arceus’ arrival and subsequent departure.

“Arceus…” Rhys sighed. What happened? He looked to the now clear sky. I have to tell them something about your brief appearance.

Dark Matter was waiting for me to leave Destiny Tower in order to strike. I cannot leave again.

Rhys squeezed his paws. I see. Very well. I will be seeing you later, then. There is another thing I need to take care of… Particularly having to do with our medical needs.

Medical?

Rhys nodded, but then realized that Arceus probably couldn’t see him. There are a lot of healers, and even a talented Smeargle, but I’m positive another wave of Pokémon will be coming in need of our already exhausted supplies. We need better healing.

Better… Arceus paused. You don’t mean…

Rhys winced, but projected his sigh to Arceus the best he could. I need to find Emily.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 84 – What’s Your Name?​

The once pristine labyrinth of silk and glowing halls had holes torn through them to let in the light. Har’s tail flame illuminated what was left, and they soon realized from the night’s rainfall that they had to keep the holes better covered. The water that seeped through the webbing made everything sticky and soggy; without Trina’s Mysticism to keep it regulated, their labyrinth was literally melting around them.

Snapping Har out of his thoughts was Ani’s sigh. “I don’t think Trina’s coming back,” she said. “Something happened.”

Having an icy pit in his stomach was never a good feeling for a Fire. “Those explosions made it pretty obvious,” Har said. “How’s Lygo doing?”

“I healed him, but he still seems shaken up,” Ani said.

Lygo had been their scout; when the sky had turned black, he had tried to flee. But then the lights had cut through the darkness, and the explosions made nearly everyone pass out—including Lygo, in midair. By the time he had regained consciousness, he’d struck the ground hard.

Even with his body healed, everyone felt a lot weaker. That explosion in the sky was one of the strongest things they’d ever seen. Har hadn’t seen anything like it, either, even with his past life’s incomplete memories. He did have a theory, though: streaks of light from a faraway place could only be something of divine nature, surely. And if the Book of Arceus was anything to go by…

“Whatever got Trina, it seems like Arceus himself is trying to suppress it,” Har said, squeezing his claws. He glanced at his bag, which felt so much heavier than usual, and at the three scarves tucked away inside. He hoped they would still be effective if he wound up choosing to give it to them, but—

No, would he be doing that? Was he supposed to do that by now?

“Har.”

“Oh—you’re still here.” Har nodded at Ani. “Sorry. I, um. Hi.”

“You’ve been lost in thought all day,” Ani hummed, frowning. The mutant Meganium wrapped a vine around his forehead. “You feel kind of hot. Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?”

“…I’m a Fire.”

“Well, yeah, but hotter than usual. I feel like if I could feel pain, I’d be bringing my vine back by now.” She did so anyway, inspecting it, and then showed Har the part of her vine that had touched him. “See? It looks a little burned.”

“I don’t see anything, and I have Perceive. I’m fine.” Har crossed his arms.

“Har, I know when you’re lying,” Ani said. “I don’t have Perceive, but I may as well with you.” She prodded him with a vine, making sure one of her thorns dug into his chest’s scales. “So, what’s it going to be, Har?”

Always with the rhetorical questions. Har didn’t have an immediate response. Instead, he let the slowly collapsing wall to his right, and its unstable silk congealing into a shapeless mess, distract him. Ani, however, was having none of it. She would have said more had it not been for the shout from across the field, audible only because the walls that separated the corridors had long since collapsed.

“Another mutant’s woken up! S-someone, help!”

Ani cursed and looked to Har. “I’m not done, but we need to do this first.” Even while she spoke, she pulled herself along, and Har followed, stretching his wings to conjure himself some forward updraft.

Har twisted in the air and drilled through a thin wall of silk to get to the struggle faster—he could already sense them. The middle of it all was an Umbreon being held down by a Throh and Sawk. Those two weren’t mutants—he remembered their arrival several years ago. Outlaws in hiding that turned a new leaf under Trina. Good. Much more stable than the mutants who were losing it.

This Umbreon kept struggling under their hold, spewing poison from spikes that protruded from the glowing rings on his body. It was already weakening the two Fighting Pokémon, despite their type advantage. Feral growls and hisses were the only sounds that came from Umbreon.

“He’s getting loose!” Throh shouted, his grip weakening.

“Do we have any way to immobilize him?” Har shouted, landing nearby. “Thunder Wave, anything, do we—”

“This is with Thunder Wave.”

Har’s throat tightened and he looked down. He saw the madness in Umbreon’s eyes; there was no way they were going to console that unless they put him under or subdue or bind him.

Subdue, put under—sleep!

“Does anybody have a Sleep Seed?!” Har shouted, but then tuned his horns to the bags that a few of Trina’s best carried. There was one nearby, but in his panic, he didn’t know whose it—it was his. Right. He kept some of them to help with restless nights.

Pulling out the Seed and ignoring its vaguely floral aroma, he motioned for Sawk to help with pulling Umbreon’s mouth open. They tried to adjust, but the moment they did, sharp spikes jutted out from all sides of Umbreon and stabbed at the two Fighters’ skin. They cried simultaneously, let go, and Umbreon bolted.

“No!” Har stretched his wings and conjured more updraft to fly forward, the frantic flight leaving small trails of embers behind him. His tail blazed with the extra oxygen, which in turn gave him a surge of energy like a second breath of air, and soon he was already upon the frenzied mutant.

First came a sharp, burning pain—and burning was not something that Har was used to. Then came a much more familiar, icy chill that spread dully through his flesh, and he knew that Umbreon had used his strange, poison spikes. Didn’t matter; he had to power through.

“Calm down, you—” He shoved the Sleep Seed into Umbreon’s mouth and gripped his muzzle firmly afterward.

“It’s okay,” Har continued, somewhere between a growl and a whisper. “You’ll sleep, we’ll keep you safe, we’ll calm you down, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Umbreon wasn’t receptive, but at the very least, the seed went down.

Har waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing was happening. Why wasn’t it—

Distracted, Har lost his grip on Umbreon, who suddenly broke him his hold, blasted him with a volley of spikes to his snout and chest, and then bolted away. Har roared and spat a gout of fire randomly ahead, hitting only the air. He tried again, unable to see with his eyes but perfectly aware of Umbreon’s trajectory regardless. Umbreon hopped to the left and bolted past a few passerby mutants who didn’t react in time.

“Get him!” Har shouted, but he knew it was useless. Umbreon was gone. He rummaged angrily through his bag and pulled out a Heal Seed, trying to ignore the cold sting of the poison, and bit down.

Why did he even bother? Of course it wouldn’t work.

“Please tell me Pecha Berries aren’t broken,” Har begged, turning to face Ani, who had finally caught up with him. He ignored her empathetic wince and said, “Yeah, I know, it looks bad—heal me, please.”

“I need to take out those spikes first,” Ani said.

“Fine, just…” Har’s words were slurred, and he realized only then how badly the poison was coursing through him. “Just do somethi…”

The world was a tunnel of light, and then darkness.

<><><>​

Charizard nuzzled Charmander on the back of his neck. In reply, Charmander growled and crossed his arms, looking away. A learned behavior from all his exposure to humans, but Charizard had always said that was a good thing.

“Humans are dumb.”

Charizard sighed, looking over at Marowak, who seemed more interested in the boulders in the distance. Marowak understood; Charmander knew that. Because he used to be feral, and he didn’t really get to know humans until after meeting Charizard. But… He still respected them, for some reason. And Charmander didn’t understand that.

“They aren’t dumb, Smallflame,” Charizard said. “Not all of them. Some humans… are worthy of your time.”

“Some.” Charmander spat a small ember on the ground. “What if I get a dumb one?”

“Then leave them.” Charizard smiled, prodding at Charmander again.

“Then they’ll be too weak.” As far as Charmander was concerned, if he picked a human, he was going to have to stay with them so they didn’t get into any trouble.

Charmander looked at his other siblings—they were all sparring with one another under the oversight of Redscale. He had never picked a human. He had stayed behind to help the others pick theirs. Why couldn’t he be like Redscale?

Charizard never answered him. And he knew Charizard wouldn’t answer him if he tried today. So, instead, he tried a new question. “…Fine. Tell me about your human.”

Charizard looked down. “What?”

“Your human. What about her? She gave you a name. And she trained with you. So, what about her?”

In all honesty, Charmander hadn’t paid much attention when Charizard talked about her human. He only knew the basics that every Pokémon in their family knew: That humans had the power to give Pokémon human names. Names that they didn’t know how to say themselves, but the humans could. Their strange language barrier; Pokémon and humans understood each other through feelings, not words, but that was usually enough.

But to be given a name… Was it really that important to Charizard? What was her human name? He never knew. He rarely heard her human name, because apparently Charizard didn’t like anybody else to use it except for her trainer. And she…

Charizard’s eyes briefly showed her age. Beneath the eternal flame were ancient embers that had long since settled down: little imperfections under her eyes, faded scales that speckled her face. Old scars from battles and troubles that a simple potion couldn’t heal in time. Charmander rarely noticed them; that was just how Charizard looked. So why was he seeing them now?

She had a wide smile on her face, but her eyes were sad. The old mother picked Charmander up and cradled him in her arms; he curled up on reflex, ready to listen to another bedtime story.

“She was wonderful.”

<><><>​

Owen groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was wet. He grimaced, looking blurrily at his fists. Rubbing his cheeks came; they were wet with tears, which confused him. The Charmander wiped them away and yawned for a second time, trying to understand the cause of the heaviness he felt in his chest.

Charizard… He looked at the bowl, frowning. He remembered a Charizard, but it was such a fleeting thought. It felt so long ago. Maybe it was just a dream?

It was never that simple. That was where the heaviness was coming from, but it all felt so vague. The dream had all but evaporated, and it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it anyway.

He took one step and suddenly doubled over, grunting in pain. His stomach felt horrible. Had he even slept for long? It felt like his insides were on fire—everything felt like some kind of rushed blur, now that he thought about it. His muscles ached. And he smelled something foul nearby.

He looked to the left, spotting the remains of the bowl of food he’d eaten. The bowl of himself? At this point he decided that he should just get used to that thought. But the stew had congealed since he’d last eaten it, and simply reheating it probably wasn’t going to be good enough this time around. Out of tiny desperation, Owen inspected the soup, but it radiated a foul presence that made even his feral instincts recoil.

He stepped back and into something else. The sound of a half-full bowl clattered dully against his ankle. With a grimace, he shook his foot of more rotten food, but a different foul odor still permeated the air.

Wait—that’s my breath.

It smelled like bile. And then Owen remembered—in vague, dizzy flashes—what had happened. He had been eating the stew, which had settled badly in his stomach. Then, he’d tried to stuff more of it down in an effort to keep as much nutrition in him as possible… And then…

That backfired.

He rubbed at his cheeks, chipping away at dried bits of uneaten—and formerly eaten—food that stuck to his scales. The pain in his stomach, he assumed, was a mixture of emptiness and lingering food poisoning.

Was he better or worse off than before he found this stew? Psychologically, he was probably better. Physically? Owen wasn’t sure anymore. But he needed to find water next. The closest he had to that was the tree taffy. He probably had to spend another few moments in that forest…

He looked at the uneaten food—what a waste—but knew that this time, he couldn’t act out of desperation. The next one could kill him. He didn’t even know what that would truly mean this time around, either.

Trying to spit out the remaining taste of bile, Owen left the cave, felt for rumbles, and continued north to the dead forest. It was far away, like a black line in the horizon across a canvas of purple, windswept fields. The great plateaus towered over him as always, but Owen was starting to notice little distinctions in each one. Lumpy, straight, a little angular. Each plateau had their own personality. The one he just left felt particularly sassy.

Compared to the walks that he’d taken before, this one felt simultaneously longer and shorter. It was shorter because, as far as the number of steps he’d vaguely counted, they were the fewest by far. Yet between his lingering nausea, his lack of proper food in… a while, and the lack of water, it felt like he’d been walking for longer than all his other trips combined.

He had stopped caring about the rumbling a while ago, getting a sense of how near and far they were. The small ones didn’t scare him anymore; whatever those titanic things were, they were at least three or four rows of plateaus away when the shakes were at that intensity.

A defiant-looking plateau had its head eternally tilted upward, challenging the sky to blow it down. Owen wished he could be like that, so tall and unmoving. There had been a lot of people in Kilo who looked up to him. Demitri, Mispy, Gahi—he was finally becoming their leader. Then this happened.

And Zena… Was she okay? Could she be lost here, too? How many times could she have been killed, the way he had, and the way Amia had? So many others to find, and he had no idea where any of them were—or if they were still fighting in Kilo.

The defiant plateau was behind him, and up ahead, the final plateau before the forest, was a tired one. The cliffside sagged like an overweight Nidoking, huffing and puffing after climbing the Heart HQ stairs. Owen could relate. He was fit, but he was starting to feel the fatigue of no proper meals—none held down, at least. But he couldn’t stop. They were probably looking for him the same way he was for them.

He eventually got to the edge of the forest, prioritizing the water first. Without having to worry about going back to Amia this time, he simply followed the forest edge. Maybe he’d happen upon a river.

But first, he needed something to get his tongue to stop feeling so sticky and dry. He channeled some Steel energy into his claws, slashing at the nearest tree. Just like the ones deeper in, the tree had some inner bark for him to tear away, though not as much, and not quite as juicy. He was tempted to go deeper inside where the ground was moist, but decided, for now, to not risk it. Some basic energy would do for now.

After tearing enough pieces for himself, he continued along the forest perimeter, silently hoping that he’d find some lead on what he was supposed to do next.

Water. Everyone needed water. If he followed a river, maybe he’d find the others. And maybe Zena would be inside.

<><><>​

Dull, intense pain wracked Har’s body. He groaned a few times until he realized he was awake, or that he had passed out at all. Gentle claws held his shoulder.

“Stay down,” Lygo said, and the Flygon pressed a little harder to force Har to stop moving.

“Umbreon…”

“Ran off,” Lygo said. “It’s too late—sorry. But that’s how it is.” Lygo squeezed his hands together, claws digging into his palms. “We’re trying to keep the ones that didn’t run away stable, but that’s by force right now. They’re all asleep. But when they wake up, what?”

Har’s heart sank. “Are they stable?”

“For now…”

Ax’s voice sounded from somewhere far away. “He awake?”

“Yeah!” Lygo called back. When he took his claws off Har to wave them down, Har tried to get up again. Lygo’s tail smashed him back into the silk.

“Get off me—” Har tried to stand again, but overwhelming fatigue washed over him and he collapsed on his own. “Why aren’t I healed?”

“You need to rest,” Lygo said firmly. “That Umbreon’s poison is persistent, and we’re out of Pechas. The ones we used on you weren’t too effective on that poison, so you just need to hold still.”

His vision was blurry, but he could make out the vaguely green figures of the Flygon, Meganium, and Haxorus. Lygo pulled him up and kept him level, while Ani used her vines to prevent Har from leaning too far in any direction.

“I feel like I just ate Ani’s cooking,” Har mumbled.

Ani let go of Har and let him collapse.

“Just take it easy,” Ax said. “Har—the whole labyrinth is falling apart. We have no idea what to do. Do we just stay put until Trina comes back? Or—”

“I don’t think Trina’s coming back,” Har stated. “Something… happened. The whole place wouldn’t be falling apart if she was still around.”

Somehow, this thought felt even worse than the poison that still ran through his blood, circling through him in toxic waves from his head to his tail.

“We have to try to rebuild with what we have and salvage the mutants who aren’t going crazy. And… and you guys are staying sane, too, right?”

Ani nodded. “Don’t worry.”

Lygo shifted his weight and murmured, “We’ll tell you if we’re feeling off.”

“I thought Trina cured us of this,” Ax added, tugging at one of his tusks. “We were supposed to be past this, y’know? But—”

“It was Mystic power,” Ani concluded. “We have to be careful.”

“Too much stress might set us off,” Har added, feeling a phantom madness settling in his head that felt simultaneously familiar and foreign.

The poison made relaxing difficult, but he could at least try to breathe. His flame still provided him with a gentle warmth that spread through the rest of his system, and that was reassuring enough. He felt awful, slumped down in a pile of melting silk, but he wasn’t dying. He did sense, however, that the other three were bothered.

“You guys should help out the others,” Har said, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m useless right now. I’ll help out when my body fights off this stuff.”

“We will,” Ax said, “but…”

“Right.” Lygo nodded, shifting to his other foot. “There’s something else we wanted to ask you.”

“The scarves,” Ani added.

“Not now,” Har mumbled, rolling over and away, shielding his head from the rest of them with his wings. “Too tired.”

“Owe—Har,” Ani said, narrowing her eyes. She wrapped a vine around his wing and pulled, but Har refused to budge. Puffing out her cheeks, she pulled harder, but the Charizard growled in response.

“What part of tired don’t you understand?”

“Why did Trina give those to you?” Lygo asked. “C’mon, there’re three of them, and three of us. Where’s yours?”

“They’re—you know, stuff,” Har said. “Was meant for… a ceremony.”

“A ceremony” Ani said. “One only you know about? We asked about those scarves with the others and they had no idea.”

“Well, that’s because Trina only got around to telling me about it,” Har explained, weaving an even greater lie. Much like the silk around them, though, he feared it was rapidly deteriorating.

“What’s it for?” Ani pressed, her grip around his wing getting stronger.

“I wasn’t supposed to say because—”

Ani abruptly wrapped two vines around Har’s arm and pulled it back and around, twisting the scales. Har yelped, which transitioned into a desperate whine and wail.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Har shouted, but trying to pull away only made it worse. “S-stop! I’m already dying—you’ll kill me!”

“What’s it about?” Ani asked, twisting a little harder.

Har kicked and flailed his tail, waving flames over Ani’s vines, but she was completely unfazed.

“Ani, c’mon,” Ax said, backing down. “If he doesn’t want to tell us—”

“No.” Ani grabbed a third vine and curled it around Har’s neck; he tensed.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” Har squeaked, realizing that Ani had pressed him down while he wasn’t paying attention. He was too weak to fight back.

“Negotiations,” Ani replied, bringing another vine up to her mouth. She wrapped her maw around it; Har’s eyes widened with horror as thick globs of saliva coated the tip.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Lygo rolled his eyes, though he didn’t make an effort to stop her.

“Ani, wait,” Har said. “C-can’t we work this out? I—AAH!”

She twisted his arm again, and the wet vine slithered toward one of Har’s earholes.

“No, no, wait!” Har begged, craning his neck as far as it could go.

“Tell us,” Ani said threateningly.

“No!”

The vine was getting very close. He could smell it. A mixture of cut grass, berries, morning breath—Oh Mew, what did she eat?!—It was about to enter him and rot his brain.

In his panic, though, a moment of clarity passed through, and he wondered if Ani had sensed it from the start: the flame on his tail didn’t have any blaze of battle. Was he really fighting back? It certainly didn’t feel like it; he didn’t know what he was trying to preserve anymore. He didn’t know why they were so fixated on the scarves; he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he really was still easy to read…

Ani’s absurd negotiation tactic—it was completely like her to force the truth out like this. He didn’t want to lose that… yet…

“Fine—” Har said, sucking in a breath. He held it. Then he went on, “I’ll talk.”

“Hmph.” Ani loosened her hold and drew back. Lygo and Ax both avoided Ani’s slimy vine.

Har muttered under his breath and rolled to a slightly more comfortable position, eventually stopping on his belly to help his stomach settle. The combination of Ani’s threat and the ongoing poison wasn’t doing his gut any favors.

“So?” Ax asked, poking his claws together. “What’s it supposed to be for? The ceremony?”

Har looked the three over, hesitating, like this would be the final time that he would get to see them as they were. Yet, they had this grave look in their eyes that tempted him so badly to turn up his Perceive. He’d know instantly what they were thinking if he did, but…. It would also break their trust. He couldn’t do that to them.

Not that he wasn’t already going to do that.

The words didn’t come. He felt like a Charmeleon staring down an endless cliff. No wings to carry him over. If he stepped forward, would that be the end? Or would he evolve? That was too optimistic.

But a great, saliva-covered monster was threatening his brain. He had to jump.

“It’s not a ceremony,” Har said, sighing in defeat. It wasn’t even the threat of Ani that was making him speak, at this point. Once he promised to tell them, he couldn’t back out. Because… “You guys are my friends—so you deserve to know. They were… dispel Scarves. Just like how Owen made one to dispel Ghrelle’s power over that Aerodactyl guy, or at least suppress the effects… Trina made one that would completely nullify something she did to you three.”

“Nullify?” Ax said. “Like what?”

And just then, the words died in Har’s throat, all momentum lost.

“Keep talking,” Ani said.

That was enough. “Y-your memories. Trina altered them.”

“How?” Ani asked, though it was more like a demand. Ax and Lygo were uncharacteristically quiet, like the shock had rendered them speechless, yet all he saw from them on the surface were downcast eyes and little, sideways movements to adjust their footing.

“I’m—I’m not the only one who has false memories of being the original Alloy,” Har explained.

“Okay,” Ani said, her vines curling and uncurling. “So, all three of us used to be them, too?”

“We were never them,” Har said immediately, trying to rise to his feet, but a wave of dizziness made him fall again. Ani didn’t help him up, and Ax and Lygo were both still motionless. “We were born with fake memories based on their most recent experiences, and that’s all. We were supposed to replace them when everything went wrong the first time, but we were never them. And—and you guys couldn’t handle that, so when we found Trina, you asked her to remove those memories and start fresh, and when she offered it to me, I refused, and—”

He didn’t realize until the claws dug into his shoulders that Lygo had approached. Shortly after, it was Ax on the other side, while Ani slid to stand in front of him.

“Breathe,” Ax said softly.

“It’s alright,” Lygo said. “We kinda figured.”

“What—” Har tried to look at all three of them at once, but eventually settled on Ani. There was no way they could have deduced that far, yet they weren’t at all surprised. If anything, they looked relieved.

She nodded, then looked at the bag in the corner of the room. “So that’s what they’ll do?”

“Yes.” Har looked away.

A late morning breeze carried the smell of smoke from a distant fire. Har remembered a time when Ani had tried to make a fancy dish he’d read about in a cookbook. It had been the most terrible thing he’d ever eaten.

“How come you never told us?” Ani asked.

That one was probably the worst question of all. “I’m really tired, guys,” Har said, but he knew none of them were going to buy it. He didn’t have to look at, nor Perceive, Ani’s glare to feel it. “…I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Lose us,” Ax repeated. “You mean the fresh start that we had, even though you still had those fake-Owen memories? Because we couldn’t handle it? Why did you even keep yours?”

“I—I don’t know,” Har said. “I felt like I couldn’t have, or that I shouldn’t have. Because if I lost my memories, too, what’s that going to mean for… anything about what we used to be? I felt like it would have lost something if I did… lost forever if we all forgot. And look!” He motioned vaguely westward. “We knew about what was going on with the real ones that we were based on. Living in endless cycles of forgetting everything—a fog that kept them from being who they really were! I didn’t… want to have all of us go through that. I needed to be the escape. And I…”

“And you still didn’t tell us,” Ani stated flatly.

Har suddenly had to swallow, the back of his throat tasting like bile. He’d spent so many nights staring at the ceiling with only his flame to keep him company. Nightmares, recurring ones, about his body dissolving into a great void, and then being reborn as a faceless doll. He never saw the faces of his team there; they had always been blank. He always held masks of them, but the masks were tearful. He couldn’t bear to return them.

“I just don’t get it,” Ax said, frowning. “You wanted to hold onto a legacy that you hated because it wasn’t yours, but you also didn’t want us to regain it and catch up to you and everything you knew?”

He swallowed it back down and breathed. Still, no words followed.

“…Why, then?” Ani asked. “We chose to get rid of it. And after that, I guess Trina planned to give it back to us one day. Left it to you? Never told us?”

Everything felt tight and claustrophobic. Lygo and Ax were right next to him and somehow it felt like they towered over him. Those vines would squeeze what little life remained in his poisoned body, and maybe he deserved it, because he had no right to withhold that kind of information from them—their precious memories. The very thing he wanted to protect for some twisted, backwards reason, he hid from them.

All because… “I was… afraid I’d lose the new you. And it’d all just be fake again. Fake us. Fake me. At least this way… you guys were able to come up with your own personalities without the way Eon wanted you to be.”

Ani frowned, sighing. “Trina’s not here to give you therapy,” she muttered. “…Whatever.” She slid toward the bag, tugging it open. “Then are we allowed to wear them?”

“Y-you… I can’t…” Har, defeated, collapsed back onto the ground. “I don’t have a right to stop you.”

“Did you ever have that right?” Ani asked, and Har realized that, indeed, keeping his Perceive off was the best choice. He didn’t want to know how Ani felt just then, because her voice shook for the first time.

Har wasn’t sure if she would hear him, but he mumbled under his breath, “No. I’m sorry.”

Ani took the three out and tossed one to Lygo, then another to Ax. All three of them stared at it, then down at Har, who peeked out at them from between his claws. They all waited, and when Har realized this, he rolled onto his back and slowly sat up. The dizziness came the first time and he had to stop; Ani spared a few vines to prop him up afterward.

“Right now?” Har said, feeling, for some reason, small. “You’re doing this right now?”

“Should we?” Ani said.

“It’s—it might be stressful,” Har said.

“Maybe. But so is anticipating it, right?” Ani pulled the scarf a little closer, a few simple motions away from wrapping it around her neck. Har only saw it as a deadly knot to suck the life out of everything he knew about them… And yet, would it also be a return to what they used to be?

“Har,” Ani said, and Har willed himself to maintain eye contact again. “What’s my name?”

“Your—your name?” Har asked the Meganium. “It’s… Ani right now.” Because he didn’t know what would happen after.

“And you?” Ax spoke up, anxiously plucking and reattaching one of his tusks. “What’s your name? What would we call you?”

“I…” Why was he shaking? “Just—tell me after. We’ll see. I—just do what you want. I’ll answer to either, just—just do it already. Please.”

He couldn’t stop his jaw from quivering and he hated it. This was absurd—he was going to get them back! He would finally get his team back! His friends, his companions… their false memories still bound them together. And what else did they have? No—it was with Trina. Their friendship had been recreated under Trina… Was he better off that way?

His ‘true’ counterpart’s shining eyes flashed in his mind. So happy and full of life despite everything he’d gone through. And then there was him, the fake, with suppressed friends and no true identity. Miserable. But now he was losing even that to another veil of artificial memories…

But it was what they wanted. And according to Trina, memories, no matter how they were acquired, were eternal. It would be with them forever; the seal would eventually break. This was… inevitable.

So, he only watched, his eyes trying to remember every detail about them. And once again, he was tempted to use his Perceive to remember even more… But he didn’t. And he instead nodded, claws weakly digging into his palms, and waited.

Ani did it first, then Lygo, and then Ax. Ax had trouble tying it together, so Lygo helped and brought it around his neck.

“…Well?” Har choked.

There were no lights; no gasps; not even a startled blink. More than ever, Har wanted to know for sure how they felt, but with his eyes alone, he knew something was amiss.

“It’s not working?” he asked, and then a pit of ice pulled his stomach down. “Trina… If she’s gone, then her influence would be—the Mystic aura in those—”

Ani’s frown deepened, and then she looked to Ax and Lygo. They both blinked in some silent agreement toward her.

“We already got them back,” Ani finally said.

The shock left Har numb. He didn’t fully understand the words they had said, only that he wasn’t supposed to be reacting so silently. Yet he couldn’t find it in him to say anything.

“Our memories,” Ani clarified with a subdued smile.

Har tried and failed to get up, smashing his face into some of the lumpy silk. It tasted like feet. Sputtering and coughing, rubbing his tongue on his claws, he panted and ignored the quiet giggles coming from Lygo.

He settled for resting most of his weight on his arm again. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” he shouted, a sudden, seething anger putting a pressure on his neck and forehead. “I—I was getting all worked up over something that already happened, and—”

“Because now we’re even,” Ani said, her subdued smile becoming a playful smirk.

“Hmph.” Lygo crossed his arms. “Lie by omission to us, then fine, we’ll do the same to you.” After a second of seriousness, a wry smile broke the façade.

Ax fiddled with one of his tusks, tugging it out to twirl around his claws. “And if you’re wondering… We don’t feel too different. It was weird to get our memories back, but that was always the plan, even if we forgot. When we first lost them, Trina took us to the side, away from you, for the procedure… But it was actually just to sort out when we’d get them back.”

“Trina said memories were eternal,” Lygo added. “We’d get them back eventually under Mystic influence, and Trina has a lot of that. But the timing on when we got them would mean a lot… Guess she was right.” He looked at his claws, then at Har.

“And—and your accent,” Har said. “Gahi had a—”

“Ehh…” Lygo shrugged. “I feel it slipping, but I think I’ll stick with speaking properly. Leave the broken speech to Gahi.”

“And Ani,” Har said. “Your…”

Ani shrugged. “I’ve never had trouble talking. I don’t really know why the real Mispy can’t. Maybe Nevren got around to finding out what was going on with my speech center.”

“Then… then which ones are you?” Har asked, wings drooping.

The three looked at one another, perplexed. When it seemed that nobody had an answer, Ani asked, “What do you mean? I thought you didn’t tell us because you were scared to lose us, or something?” She leaned forward, several vines creeping over Har’s legs. “What, did you want to be Owen again?”

“I—” Har paused. “I don’t know.”

“Well, who do you want us to be?” Ani leaned forward. “Ani, or Mispy?”

“I don’t know!” Har blurted, trying to pull away, but Ani didn’t let up. She kept staring with that intense glare in her eyes. “I just—you pick! It’s not my choice!”

“What do you mean?” Lygo asked, standing on Ani’s right. Ax stood to the left.

“I—” Har’s words echoed in his head, everything feeling askew, like the whole world was tilted to the left. “I chose to be Har,” he began slowly, “because I wasn’t Owen. But I sorta wished I was Owen, too, because—I mean, duh, it’s what I started off with.” He watched their eyes and paused. Despite the fact that they were waiting for him, Har felt lighter.

“It’s wasn’t fair to leave you guys without memories. Now that you have them all… Pick.” He lowered his head, trying to suppress his shaking. He was at their mercy, after finally telling them the truth. He remembered how horribly they’d screamed at Eon, how they had blasted him away and fled the lab. Would the same happen now?

Perhaps the artificial apple didn’t fall far from the rotten tree.

“Why?” Ani asked.

He thought he felt Ani’s vines digging into his scales, but it was all in his mind. A quick glance verified she was just watching him, not advancing nor backing away.

His flame felt so cold.

“It’s not my choice,” Har whispered. “I already lied to you guys once and tried to manipulate you into… something. I was afraid of change—that was it.” The realization was enough for him to latch onto, even if he wasn’t sure it was true. “But now it’s done, and… I’m ready to just see what happens.” Lighter and lighter; he was shaking, but it was easier to breathe.

Ani eased her stance into something taller, looking down at Har with narrowed eyes. “So I can be Ani or Mispy?”

Har nodded. “Whichever.”

Ani looked to Lygo, who nodded. Then to Ax, who also nodded.

“Does it matter?” Ani asked.

Har blinked, looking up. “What—” He didn’t know how to finish, so he let them continue.

“We weren’t able to handle it, so we ran away to hide in our minds,” Lygo said. “You weathered the storm for us. I don’t think the name you pick, or we pick, matters anymore. We feel like… us.” He smiled a little wider. “And you’re still you, to me.”

At this, Ax and Ani nodded firmly.

Far to their right, a part of the silken maze sagged, even more of Trina’s abode collapsing gently around them with a soft sigh. Har couldn’t see. Everything was a blurry mixture of white silk and green bodies; Ani’s form faded into Ax’s, and then Lygo, those red flecks for his wings, got closer.

He hadn’t realized it until then, but his breathing was so quick that he was becoming lightheaded again. Deep, rumbling whimpers escaped his throat against his wishes. He tried to speak but it came out as a babble. His expression twisted into an ugly grimace, shaky gasps parting his jaws. “I—I’m s-so…”

“By the stars,” Lygo said, and Har could at least hear him. “You’re a mess.”

And then Har wailed, covering his eyes with his claws. His wings shielded him from the outside world, his sobs amplified within the protective shell. Two sets of claws held him by the shoulders and vines wrapped around his torso; three heads pressed against him on all sides, and in that instance, those relieved, sad sobs became happy tremors. He opened his wings enough to let them in, then his arms, and he cried into their shoulders. Tears weaved between scales and onto the damp ground. Their pressure relieved him, and he wanted to pull them even closer, even if it crushed his bones.

“I’m sorry,” Har sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“I’m sorry, too,” Ani replied.

“You cry too much for a Fire,” Ax whispered.

“I know, I—I know.”

Little murmurs and gentle nothings eventually brought Har down to an occasional sniffle, but now he was grinning more than he’d ever grinned before. “I—I really don’t know,” Har admitted. “I’ve been Owen, but I feel like Har, too.”

“Same,” they all admitted.

“But the real ones are still around, too,” Har said. “And we have our own n-names anyway.”

“So, stick with Har?” Ani asked. “For practical reasons.”

“Are we sure the real ones are still okay?” Ax said. “Trina went to where they are, and she’s not back…”

Har didn’t want to think about that, but his tail flame dimmed anyway. “Let’s stay optimistic.”

“Guess I’m Ani, then.” The Meganium relented.

“Yeah,” Ax agreed. “I’ll stay as Ax—I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, and Lygo sounds cool,” Lygo said, grinning.

Har frowned and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry I prolonged it for so long.”

“Aah, who cares,” Lygo dismissed with a wave. “We’re as whole as can be, so now all that’s just the past.” He cracked his neck, then nestled a little closer to Har. “I’m just happy I don’t feel lost anymore.”

Har flinched, staring at Lygo, wordless.

“…What? Did I say something weird?” Lygo asked.

And just then, a thousand pounds left his shoulders. “No,” Har replied, a smile creeping from the left side of his face into a full grin. “I think you just helped explain something I couldn’t.”

They stayed together for a while longer, and Har didn’t complain. There was something special about being next to one another, rather than being fused or fighting or simply in the same room. He needed more of this. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“No more secrets,” Ani said to Har.

“None,” Har agreed. He basked in their warm silence for a little while longer as he played the conversation in his head over and over.

“We’ve got a lot to fix around here,” Ax hummed, glancing at the last of the silk ruins.

“Yeah,” Har agreed, sighing. He had no idea what the path forward would be like for them. But at least they had each other.

“I think we’ll manage it,” Lygo affirmed.

Amid the collapsing silken labyrinth, the sunlight shined through the dewdrop treetops. Bright skies warmed their scales and Har’s flame returned to a vibrant orange.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 85 –A Bright, Dark Storm​

As it turned out, God appearing in the town square led to much more activity than usual. Rhys hadn’t heard Arceus’ name said so often since he’d actually been mortal, blurry as those memories were. Scouts had announced another town to the southwest had been attacked, and the assumption was another rogue mutant or two. Rhys was less certain; it was near the strange, dark blotch on the map that was rarely visited, after all. Void’s Basin, they called it. Not even plants grew there.

Still, perhaps there had been a mutant wandering around that area without supervision. There was a Dungeon there, but explorations turned up nothing, not even a wild Pokémon. Then again, it was just a lifeless crater from the first war. With everything going upside-down, perhaps it warranted another check.

But that wasn’t important now. What was important was the result: another group of badly injured Pokémon on a voyage that may have lasted the entire day or longer. Fliers had come first, claiming a whole village was coming for help, and in return, Elder had coordinated for their fliers to return and bring the injured back.

One of the Hearts, a Donphan, approached Rhys. He had no badge, for he wasn’t a true Heart, but he was with their administration. The countless assistants that kept the organization running, even if they did not participate directly in the rescue efforts. His words were grave.

“We’re running out of supplies. We don’t have the space or the power to heal another wave of them.”

And when he asked again if there were any stray supplies, extra donations, anything, he got the same answer: They didn’t know what worked and what didn’t.

That only redoubled his resolve. After locating him at the top of the Heart HQ, Rhys tapped Elder on the shell. “I’m leaving to find Emily.”

Elder understood within seconds. There was a flurry of activity around them, extra Pokémon at the front desk to gather up and triage Dungeon missions. Elder glanced at his own bulky shell in the way of everyone’s footwork and hauled himself to the edge of the room, nearby a small, potted Chesto bush that was stripped recently of its berries.

Rhys knelt down and wrapped his arm around Elder’s outstretched neck, careful of his spike like it was muscle memory. Even after all this time, he still remembered to do that. Rhys smiled faintly at the thought.

When Rhys pulled away, he asked, “Will you be able to handle things while I’m gone?”

“Oho, they’ll handle themselves.” Elder nodded in the direction of the Hearts. “Anam taught them how to self-direct quite well. Even without their leadership, they know where to go, what to do…”

Rhys decided not to comment on the fact that it was probably because Anam rarely gave direct orders to begin with. James had been the main director. “They still need central leadership. Elder, that isn’t something you’re used to.”

“I will last the day,” Elder assured him, a confident plume of white smoke escaping the top of his shell. “I have Willow, ADAM, and even Manny and his spirits to help. Manny seems to have experience being a leader, too. So, one Lucario for another, hm?”

Rhys smiled back. “All right. Then I’ll be back with Emily.” He stood, though he hesitated again, wondering if going alone would be a good idea. But he couldn’t afford to bring anybody else with him for something as simple as getting Emily. Everyone else was needed to help with stabilizing Kilo Village.

“Take care,” Elder said. “If you aren’t back by sundown, I’ll send for help.”

That only made Rhys’ anxieties worsen. “You don’t think it’s that perilous, do you? Granted, ocean flight may take some time, and I suppose it might be a strain…”

“Would you like me to get someone to help?” Elder offered. “Perhaps Willow? She’s a wonderful flier, after all.”

“Perhaps that would be wise. But that would take Manny away; we shouldn’t risk him transferring to another realm…”

“Could we ask ADAM? Though, he isn’t a very fast flier…”

Rhys hummed, mind flashing back to that Smeargle. Perhaps he could check on him one more—no, his aura had been so small and reserved. He wouldn’t be of much help should something go wrong. And seeing Lugia might overwhelm him.

“Then I’ll be cautious,” Rhys finally concluded. “I’ll try to call out to you should something go wrong, Elder. Take care.”

“I suppose you could also call upon Arceus for assistance,” Elder said.

“He may be occupied.” Rhys walked toward the Heart HQ exit. “But I will keep that in mind.”

With one last smile, Rhys stepped out of the Heart HQ and down the stairs. He passed by an Electrode cautiously rolling down the steps, and then a nearby Ariados looking conflicted about one of the missions that she had claimed.

They were all going to be fighting for Kilo, both the town and the world. Rhys clenched his jaw. This was no time to admire the hard work of the others.

He descended the worn-down, stone stairs, walked the long-flattened streets, trodden by countless Pokémon going in and out of all the buildings and Heart facilities that were, at this point, at capacity.

“Good luck,” Rhys murmured to nobody. Then, aura concentrated under his feet and in his paws, and finally, he jumped. In seconds, Kilo Mountain was a small mound behind him, the southern forests emerging from the horizon.

<><><>​

Nobody was coming to check on Rim. Nevren was really busy, but did that mean he had to forget about her? That wasn’t fair.

Lavender tried to keep his steps soft, though his hard talons didn’t allow for a lot of noise reduction. He’d transform into something quieter, but of the spirits within him, his go-to stealth Pokémon weren’t with him, and frustration kept him from trying other forms. Silvally it was.

The backup power he’d provided to the lab’s main generator was doing well; the lights no longer flickered, and none of the active incubation chambers had warning lights. However, according to Nevren, whatever species he had accidentally turned Rim into, it was taking up a lot of energy. It was a fully evolved Pokémon instead of the lowest form, which would have been much more energy efficient.

Instead, she’d become a Cherrim, and now, her body was almost completely formed. Hidden behind thick, huge, purple petals, Rim stirred weakly inside the fluid, occasionally trying to move, but never getting very far.

“Auntie Rim?” Lavender said, leaning against the cylinder, pecking gently. He was careful that it wasn’t hard enough to leave any cracks or dents in the container.

Rim didn’t answer. Lavender’s eyes shifted to a cosmic pink, reading for any vague feelings or thoughts that might come from her. It was garbled; Rim must have been drifting in and out of consciousness. Frowning, Lavender backed away and turned toward the sound of heavy paw pads.

“Lucas?” Lavender fanned out his head crest, switching to Fire to help him feel more welcome.

The Houndoom—his Mega state gone—growled in a subdued but happy greeting and nuzzled under Lavender’s cheek bolt.

“Aw, hey, Lucas,” Lavender greeted, bending down to bump his beak against his snout, and Lucas replied by playfully nipping at the metal. Lavender didn’t really understand why Lucas did that. Nevren had said it was some kind of pack respect instinct among feral Houndoom to bite at the muzzle, or maybe it was playfulness? Either way, Lucas’ tail wagging was enough of an indicator that he was in a better mood than before.

Lucas got on his hind legs and pressed his paws against Rim’s chamber, tilting his head with concern.

“It’s okay,” Lavender assured. “She’s gonna be fine. See? The light’s green.”

Lucas followed where Lavender pointed, but then looked back at Rim and whined.

“Aww, Lucas.” Lavender dipped his head under Lucas’ chest and pushed him away from the chamber. “She just needs more rest. It’s probably going to be a few weeks before she’s out and about again. We just have to wait, alright? Besides, we need to help the mutants take care of themselves. With just Uncle Nev taking care of us, it might be hard to, you know…”

Lucas whined again, his tail between his legs.

“I know,” Lavender said. “But don’t worry—Dad’ll be back one day. He’s strong! He’s just fighting! Same as Nate. He’s still resting, right? Does he seem okay?”

Lucas whined again.

“Oh… He’s still weak.”

Another whine confirmed it, and then a longer, extended one that nearly became a howl. Lavender sighed and nuzzled him again, trying to stay positive.

“Look,” the Silvally said, “everything seems kind of crazy right now, but, umm… but we still need to stay positive! Otherwise, um, otherwise we won’t really be doing any good for anyone, right? So… I know!” Lavender perked up. “Let’s go see how Uncle’s doing! He might know what to do. He’s super smart about it.”

With a bark, Lucas was already sprinting down the lab, and Lavender followed, empty green cylinders flying past him in a blur. That quickly transitioned to white halls and closed corridors, eerily empty now that most of the mutants were under curfew to keep them calm. At least they were obedient there, each one hiding away in their Poké Balls. That always seemed to calm their minds enough to not escape and cause trouble.

After making their way to the teleportation wall, they took a good guess on which floor Nevren was in and headed to floor nine. There, Lucas sniffed the air and then barked, leading the way.

“You found him?” Lavender kept pace easily, conjuring some tailwind while his eyes flashed into a baby blue.

After a few more turns they stopped in front of a locked door. For an extra second, Lucas’ panting and the clicking of Lavender’s talons echoed back to them. Lucas whined loudly and pawed at the metallic, flat blockage, but it didn’t budge.

“If it’s not opening, he must’ve locked himself inside,” Lavender said. Then, raising his voice, he called, “Uncle Nev! You okay in there?”

He pecked at the door. His eyes darkened to a blackish purple. “Maybe I can sneak in,” he told Lucas, sinking halfway into the shadows. Before he could go further, the door slid open, revealing Nevren and a medium-sized device that was about as large as his star-shaped head.

“Ah,” Nevren greeted, nodding. “Hello. Sorry for scaring you with my silence. I was deep in concentration.”

“What’s that?” Lavender pointed his beak at the device. It was mostly transparent with a few glowing wires attached to tiny, pebble-sized orbs, one pink, another cyan.

“A prototype using a few knick-knacks around my room,” Nevren explained leisurely. “I just need some of the components for a proof of concept. You see, while a lot of chaos has come up, something peculiar that I can actually investigate is Hot Spot Dungeon. And since Step is handling the recovery of the mutants, and Arceus and Nate and such are handling Dark Matter… why not dabble in some research?”

“That sounds fine,” Lavender agreed, having no idea what he’d said.

Nevren placed the strange device on his work bench, and Lavender peeked inside. It was surprisingly barren; most of his equipment must have been in Kilo Village. Too bad traveling there wasn’t going to be easy anymore…

“Uncle Nev,” Lavender said, moving to the side to allow Lucas through the doorway. “How come the sky’s falling?”

“Ah, just an incoming war at best,” Nevren said. “Nothing we can do for now, but perhaps with some ingenuity, I can change that.” He didn’t even look up from the notebook on his desk.

“Um… what exactly are you gonna do with that?” Lavender asked, pointing at the odd device with pink and cyan stones.

Nevren raised the device with an aura of Psychic energy. “Well, assuming all goes as planned, which it usually doesn’t,” he explained, “I’m going to create a Dungeon.”

<><><>​

Zero Isle was far behind Rhys; far below, the vast ocean. He knew that, far to his left, Brandon’s factory sat in the middle of the ocean. Based on those vague landmarks, he knew where to look for Emily, even as the sun settled into an orange sky. Emily’s unique aura, perplexing as it was, but surely due to her Legendary status, was also easy to trace.

Despite this, the closer he got to the other side of the world, the more a horrible, sinking feeling fell over him. His aura felt disrupted, but only subtly. He hoped that was as bad as it would get.

He looked down to make sure the aura he used to push forward through the skies still seemed healthy. Indeed, it was; cyan propulsion trailed behind him. Finally, far ahead, he saw Emily’s island.

And what luck, he also saw Emily’s silhouette lounging in front of her cave. No having to wait! He could just tell Emily what was happening, and then—

How was he going to convince Kilo Village to submit to Emily’s healing methods?

The shadow of Emily shifted. Rhys slowed down, suddenly rethinking his strategy. Practically speaking, Emily was their best bet at restoring the town and minimizing casualties. She was the ultimate healer, even if her methods were undesirable. Would they need someone to demonstrate?

…Would he have to demonstrate?

Suddenly this proposition seemed worthy of a second thought. But no, he was already too close, and the sun was already setting. Still, it gave everything a very nice, orange glow. The sea was beautiful and sparkling like fire, and Emily’s island had a wonderful shine to it. Emily’s dark form complemented it nicely.

Something didn’t fit there. Sunset. Orange glow. Everything was orange. Why was Emily so dark?

Rhys lowered in altitude and prepared to land, the blasts of aura coming from his feet leaving a rift in the ocean behind him.

“Emily!” Rhys called, but the wind carried it away.

Up close, the titanic Lugia’s body lost its white colors, replaced instead by a deep purple.

“What…” Rhys drifted forward, but a foul aura made his sensors crinkle in protest. He didn’t want to get closer, but he had to.

Why did this aura remind him so much of the wraiths in Aether Forest?

When the water was shallow enough, Rhys flipped and landed in the water, running for a few paces to slow down to a cautious jog.

“Emily?” Rhys called again, unsure if he wanted to call any louder.

“Who’s… who’s there?”

The wind felt like it had been forcibly squeezed out of Rhys’ chest. Emily’s voice was so horribly warped and garbled—despite the fact that her tone seemed normal, it sounded like she was screaming it through several sheets. It reverberated in his ears and into his bones and through his aura.

“Please… run away… I…”

The thing curled up, huge wings dripping a black mass into the water, which corrupted the sand near her. Thick, black fog surrounded Emily—the source of most of the darkness—while her body itself was a mixture of purple and a dark silver underbelly.

And then something burst out of Emily’s side, screaming. Rhys couldn’t recognize it at first; it was some blackened creature, covered in wraith material. But he also saw a blue paw struggling to free the rest of itself.

The Vaporeon—Tanneth—screamed and pulled herself out more, making eye contact with Rhys. She screamed even more, reaching helplessly toward him; her blood was black, and wraiths within Emily were dragging her back inside with barbed tendrils.

Completely stunned, Rhys only stared. He didn’t know whether to advance or flee.

Emily groaned; Rhys made eye contact with the Lugia’s red, bloodshot eye. There was a flash of recognition in them…

Then Emily stiffened, her pupil rapidly dilating.

Tanneth was still screaming; wraiths tore at her just to pull her back inside.

The recognition faded. With a quiet whimper, Emily went limp. Then, she stood up, slowly; sand and water drifted down her body, wisps of shadows coursing through them. Tanneth’s incomprehensible screams became more and more panicked, half her body dangling partway out of Emily’s side.

The corrupted Lugia—Rhys had no idea how this had happened—raised her wings. Clouds formed above the island, blotting out the sun.

Then, she beat them once.

Flashes of white light accompanied thick, purple clouds. Waves as tall as Rhys churned the corrupted sands; a cutting wind forced Rhys into a bracing stance, digging his feet into the ground.

“Emily!” Rhys shouted.

He couldn’t differentiate the sounds Emily made from the howling wind until she screeched. Bolts of black lightning crystalized the sand through the ocean water. He held still, paralyzed with the sudden sensory overload. One bolt hit uncomfortably close, deafening him, and he quickly learned that the white flashes were always followed by black bolts.

One flash later, and Rhys saw the image of Tanneth trying to escape from Emily’s side. He had to flee; Emily, once harmless, was radiating an aura that he simply couldn’t overpower. But he could at least try to save Tanneth.

He didn’t know if Tanneth would reemerge again. Falling back to his training, he called into his aura and drew out all the power he could. Then, he channeled it around his body, turning it into a flexible, solid armor, and collected the excess into his paws, sharpening them into blades. But he also knew that his cyan glow would attract Emily’s attention. Before she could glance at him, he sped forward, using the boost of an Extreme Speed to slam into her side.

He didn’t expect to sink inside. She had the same consistency as Anam. Startled, hurriedly wiggled out, blasted an Aura Sphere to further dislodge himself, and grabbed Tanneth by her forepaws.

Tanneth yelped in pain—the wraiths were pulling back. He hissed and channeled extra energy into his free paw and his blade sizzled with heat.

“I’m sorry, Tanneth,” he muttered.

He jammed the blade into Emily’s body and carved; loud hissing followed, black ooze spilling out and onto him. It still moved and pulsated against his armor, and Tanneth gasped in frantic pain when Rhys accidentally sliced part of her thigh.

He pulled again. Loose. He pulled more, but another flash made him realize that Emily’s great wing was looming over him. He braced just in time. Her wing wrapped around his body. Refusing to let go, Rhys pulled one final time at Tanneth, and this time, something broke free, the rest of Tanneth’s body falling out of the shadowy wound and into his arms. Her body twitched, half-melted into black sludge, but it was stable and reforming.

Writhing desperately, Rhys held Tanneth with one arm and used his other to slice Emily’s wing. It didn’t do anything but leak more black fluid, partially blinding Rhys in one eye. It was sticky like honey and stung the Combee it came from. Emily’s grip became tighter around him, pinning his arms against Tanneth.

Everything went dark. The storm was muffled by the thick wing-fingers that threatened to snap his body in two if he let up on his armor. Tanneth whimpered weakly, the breath leaving her from the pressure.

“H-hold on,” Rhys hissed, gathering his strength. Just one blast was all he needed.

He curled around Tanneth and channeled the energy into his back, toward the opening below him where her wing had not yet covered. He hoped that some trickery would work. His body brightened, and then he fired a thick glob of aura between Emily’s fingers and to the ground. The glob quickly shaped into a copy of Rhys, pure cyan—but it looked so similar to Rhys wearing his armor that it was enough to trick Emily.

He briefly thought back to those happy moments when this very same technique had been used to free Demitri and Mispy of their forgetful prisons.

Emily’s grip loosened, distracted, as she tried to grab the stationary aura copy.

Rhys had channeled some of his power into that aura. If Emily destroyed it—and she certainly would—that power would transfer to her. But it was negligible compared to what strength she’d already demonstrated. Even as the weak aura copy fought back against Emily, lobbing Aura Spheres at her wings, Rhys waited for his opportunity.

Her grip loosened more. That was his chance.

Rhys fired from his back, landing on Emily’s foot and out of her grip. Then, he slammed his palm forward and blasted her toes; she didn’t even flinch, but that didn’t matter. He used the propulsion to send him rocketing backward, where he skidded along the shadowy, glass sand. Pieces of it broke into his armor, and a cut in his fur—which immediately stung from the salt water—told him that his protection was waning.

But there was no time. With one more burst of strength, he propelled himself along the shallow water and toward the horizon’s light. He squeezed his other arm around Tanneth, making sure she was still there—and still in one piece—before looking back at Emily.

She wasn’t pursuing. Instead, Emily roared, firing beams of dark energy into the sky. Light clawed down from above, but even more darkness twisted it away. Now, the only light that covered Emily’s abode was from the crackling, white-purple lightning that crawled through the black clouds.

Emily flailed, one wing slamming against her head. Another beam shot out and slammed into her cave, blowing huge chunks of it in random directions. The rest of the cave collapsed inward.

Emily doubled over, wheezing. She was muttering something—it sounded like pleas for help, or for something to stop. Her fleeting clarity turned her movements back to something vaguely natural.

Her wings wrapped around her head and then weakly grasped at the top of her neck. She held still for a second, hesitating. Then, a jerking, twisting motion followed, and Rhys heard a noise.

Rhys gasped, nearly sinking beneath the water’s surface, and stared in horror. For a second, Emily looked relieved and serene, her massive body about to collapse.

And then she stepped forward, catching herself, and the immortal Lugia roared. It was loud enough that Rhys nearly let go of Tanneth to cover his ears. Another shadowy blast carved the water, exploding in a white flash eclipsed by a black circle.

So transfixed by it all, Rhys didn’t realize his armor had faded completely until the harsh chill sank into his fur. Tanneth was still in his arms, though he couldn’t figure out her condition. She was at least alive; he sensed her flickering aura.

While Emily was distracted, Rhys used a steady stream of aura from his feet to swim further away from the island, realizing that he had no strength left to fly.

“Tanneth,” Rhys said, only then realizing how winded he was. “Are you okay?”

The blackened Vaporeon made a sound, but he couldn’t understand it over the ocean’s loud whispers.

“I’ll get you somewhere safer,” Rhys promised, though technically he had already fulfilled it. Anywhere not near Emily was safer.

Still, they were in the middle of the ocean, and while falling to a wraith was probably a lot worse than dying, they still had to deal with the lesser evil. He didn’t sense any hungry ocean dwellers yet, but there was no telling when that would change.

He didn’t have the energy to swim across an entire ocean. Not anymore.

Emily’s roars were getting softer; he could at least take solace in that she probably wouldn’t be able to track him now. Precious seconds to think.

A large wave disrupted his thoughts and he held onto Tanneth a little tighter. “I’ve got you,” Rhys said, but he didn’t think she heard him.

The cold was getting worse. How much had his powers depleted? He shouldn’t have gone alone. Elder was going to worry, and perhaps rightfully so if he didn’t find a way out soon.

Arceus, Rhys said, half in realization, half in a plea. Arceus, can you hear me? I’ve run into trouble, I—

I have already sent Brandon for you.

Don’t send him to Emily! She’s become hostile!

What do you mean? I can’t sense her. My vision there is… obstructed.

Wraiths. They’re inside her. I was barely able to get Tanneth out, and she’s not doing well.

Wraiths? How? They’re supposed to only appear in Dungeons… Where did you go?

I’m off the coast of her island. I don’t know which direction. But don’t let Brandon draw near the island.

A long pause followed. Rhys felt a chill splash against his feet as his aura propulsion flickered on him. He held Tanneth a little tighter. After bracing through another indifferent wave, Rhys took a gasp of air, kicking to maintain above water. Even without Mystic power, he still had a great amount of natural energy in him, but the cold was rapidly sapping that away.

Tanneth’s pulse was weak, but stable. Her breathing was more difficult to determine, but her occasional gasps and mumblings meant she was at least conscious. If she stopped, that was when he decided he’d worry.

I’ve told him. He’s searching for you on the outer coastline. Don’t drift too far.

How can I help him find me?

How much power do you have left?

Very little.

Enough for an explosive Aura Sphere?

I don’t know.

Rhys kept kicking, tentatively channeling aura into his right paw. It glowed brightly, to Rhys’ surprise. He still had energy left after all. He gritted his teeth and channeled all the energy he could into it. Faint, but if he really pushed, it would light the sky in a small flash. But there were also several flashes already in the sky from Emily; would that throw Brandon off?

I can, but Emily’s aura and her power would make it hard to find us.

Try anyway. I will try to guide him.

Putting his faith in Arceus somehow felt ironic. The Aura Sphere flew far into the sky, and then, with a tired clench of his paw, it exploded in a blue flurry that forced him to close his eyes. He hadn’t realized until then just how dark everything was.

Did he see it? Rhys asked.

Yes. Do not move from your location if you can help it.

He held Tanneth a little tighter and scanned the depths below, but the Pokémon of the sea were wise to not surface while Lugia was rampaging. His lower body felt cold; his aura was going out. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t swim from his location, so he kept kicking, if only to keep his head above water. His body was too dense to float passively.

The sluggish response coming from his legs was a concern. Did that mean he was starting to lose feeling in them, or that he was running out of even the most basic amount of energy?

Another harsh flash in the sky left stars in his eyes. He hissed and tried to block it out; was it raining? Yet the rain felt like flashing, stinging, purple bolts against his fur. This wasn’t normal rain. Whatever it was—it not only disrupted his aura sense, but it was sapping him of his energy, too.

Keeping a rhythm was all he could do. Kick, kick, kick, and occasionally turn to search for Brandon. He checked Tanneth’s pulse again. Stable. Her breathing—still too hard to tell, but she had stopped making noise some time ago.

“Tanneth?” Rhys called.

Tanneth said something in return, but it was drowned out by another flash and bang. He dipped underwater and frantically kicked harder to stay afloat, gasping for breath when he surfaced.

Where is he? Rhys asked.

Where are you? Arceus said.

Impatient and desperate, Rhys formed another Aura Sphere and burst it too low. The shockwave sent him sinking several feet and he took in a mouthful of saltwater. He squeezed Tanneth too hard, earning a weak squirm from her. Trying to swim up with one arm, Rhys felt his paw hit cold air, then fell back underwater. More kicking—his chest felt like Emily was still squeezing it—and he grasped open air again. He tilted his head upward and kicked more, surfacing halfway.

He took a breath too early. Water went down his throat and he coughed—a head-splitting pain throbbed when he did—and sank back underwater.

Up and down were indiscernible. He held Tanneth again, trying to keep calm. Panic, now, would do nothing.

I’m underwater.

He saw you.

Hurry.

He was going to die. That was what his body told him. Despite this, he refused to let the panic show in his thoughts to Arceus or in his movements. He had to conserve his energy and control his body; his mind would not succumb to primal panic, even as death’s wings wrapped around him.

The shadowy sky felt like acid to not only his body, but his aura, perhaps even that small Mystic power he held. It was useless here. Was drowning a real danger? If he lost consciousness now…

Even then, Tanneth still needed medical attention, immediately. He had too much responsibility to die now! He kicked a few more times, no idea which way he was going, before suddenly something splashed above him and wrapped around his neck.

He saw the glint of metal in another flash of light; it looked like a chain at first, but then it twisted and wrapped around his chest with too much carefulness. Out of reflex, he tried to grasp at it, but then the chain molded around his wrist and glued it to his neck, and then something pulled him upward.

“Hey,” Brandon said, his metallic body glistening in the shadowy lightning.

The chain on Brandon’s end suddenly twisted and shifted, thickening near the end until it became a Blaziken’s head.

“Hi, Rhys!” Zeke said. “We’re here to rescue you!”

Rhys was certain he was hallucinating.

Brandon pulled Rhys further up with one arm, then dug through a metal pouch slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, good job signaling us.” Brandon pulled out something spherical from the bag. He tossed it at Tanneth, and suddenly he couldn’t feel her body anymore; she had dissolved into a red light.

“What—” Rhys tried to feel around for her, but only felt a light sphere where Tanneth had been. It wiggled weakly, and shortly after another thunderclap, it clicked and stopped.

The ball left Rhys by Mystic force, returning to Brandon’s hand. He mumbled something to the ball and placed it in his bag.

“Your turn,” Brandon said to Rhys, pulling out another Poké Ball.

“I—I refuse,” Rhys wheezed, already trying to pull away from the chains, but Zeke held tight.

“No choice,” Brandon said flatly. “You’re too weak and I can’t fly you in these conditions.” He motioned to the increasing storm. “I’m taking you back to the factory so you can recover. Don’t struggle out, alright? If you fall, I might not catch you.”

“I refuse to be stored inside a—”

Brandon tapped the ball to Rhys’ forehead, and suddenly, he didn’t have a body.

<><><>​

Ever patient, Rhys complied with Brandon’s request and did not stir from his prison. While he was tempted to stretch his lack of legs and shake his way free, he also could sense with vague yet certain terms that open air was below him, and they were flying at high speeds away. Every so often, he heard Zeke chattering, and Brandon would reply back, but the fatigue of his constant swimming, combined with the admittedly cozy, bodiless quarters, left him in a sleepy haze.

How much had he strained himself with that swim? What happened to Emily? Those flashing lights were from no ordinary storm, and that was no ordinary rain; it was corrosive to his aura. Corrupting. Like darkness had been given liquid form. He still felt it.

It felt bright. Did the storm subside? Rhys wiggled weakly, but then he felt a massive hand pass over him.

“Calm down,” Brandon’s voice echoed. “We aren’t there yet. It’s a stable flight, but I don’t want to risk anything, and for all I know, you’ll pass out the second I release you.”

It was demeaning. Disgraceful. Pathetic. How could he be trapped in one of those things? Perhaps he was thinking too harshly on it… But it was some quiet reflex that made him so disdainful. He had half a mind to break out, but the danger of falling, and the humiliation it would ultimately grant him, left him instead trying to enjoy the senseless comfort within the sphere.

Grudgingly, he could at least admit that it was much like staying under the covers after a very long rest. He understood why Pokémon often didn’t want to leave if they didn’t have to. It played with their instincts; the need to curl up into a ball to recover… The Apricorns and Pokémon had co-evolved in that way, after all. Poké Balls were another version of the same, natural process.

No, he still hated it. He wanted to move his limbs again before he got too used to that feeling, yet they were still airborne. He wiggled again to voice his protest, but this time Brandon didn’t reply. So, he wiggled again, this time bumping against his thigh.

“You have a problem?” Brandon growled. “Look, I can see the factory just ahead. Sit tight. Why can’t you behave like Tanneth, huh?”

Rhys stopped, flashes of worry washing over him. Was Tanneth not moving at all?

Brandon, perhaps sensing or at least predicting his worry, sighed. “She’s fine. You know as much as I do that as long as she stays in there, she’ll be fine until we can get her out and healed. You’re better at aura than me; maybe you can talk to her and get a feel for how she’s doing.”

That was true. She was safer in there than anywhere else, even from her own corrupted body.

They were falling. And then, suddenly, they stopped.

“Alright, alright, you’ve been patient, but be patient for a few more seconds. Don’t want you collapsed on the sand.”

Step, step, step, and then finally Brandon grabbed Rhys. “Come on out!”

A blinding light enveloped Rhys. On reflex, he jerked to the right, and suddenly he had a body again. He took one step, stumbled, and Zeke was by his side, this time warm and feathery.

“Hi! Are you okay?” Zeke asked.

“I’ve been better,” Rhys grunted.

The factory was the same as ever: clean, gray, and filled with machinery that hadn’t been activated in ages. Rhys suspected that it was only by Mystic influence that it remained standing at all.

The metallic Machoke, meanwhile, asked, “Looks like you lost your bag and your badge out there. Sorry.”

Rhys jumped and reached for his toolkit, but it was indeed missing. Suddenly feeling bare—and realizing he was still waterlogged—he looked down at the wet concrete below him.

“Cold?” Brandon asked.

“Somewhat.”

“Right.” Brandon looked to his left, then his right. “I’ll check out the back and look for some blankets. I got filled in by the boss on what happened, but what’s going on with Tanneth? Should we let her out?”

“No,” Rhys said firmly. “She isn’t ready. Get the blanket, and I’ll see if I can heal her aura from the outside. I’ve recently tuned my aura for Heal Pulse.”

“Right. Do that. I’ll be back.”

With Brandon gone, Rhys inspected the red-white ball that Tanneth had been captured in. Her aura, within, was so weak… But stable. It wasn’t a flickering flame, only a steady, small candle. Tentatively, Rhys channeled a single pulse of energy into the ball—and tried to ignore the dizziness that followed. He was not equipped for fully healing her, even if he wanted to.

Are you well? Arceus called.

Yes. Tanneth is not, but she’s stable.

What happened with Emily?

I don’t know, but she’s corrupted somehow. Her aura is like a wraith’s. Like staring into a void.

I see. Arceus paused, uneasy. Do you know why?

You don’t?

No.

Comforting. Rhys sighed, but then said, Tell Elder that I am well, but I will be resting with Brandon. I do not have the strength to return, and I need to see that Tanneth is safe. I also need to observe Emily’s movements.

Is it safe to intervene?

Rhys briefly fretted. If Arceus was asking, did he not have the confidence to take her on directly? Arceus? I must at least try if you cannot.

I cannot. Dark Matter would expand again if I do, and I cannot spare a strike against her.

It may not even work. Rhys hoped that didn’t insult Arceus, but now wasn’t the time to sugarcoat things.

Get well soon, Arceus finally replied.

Rhys chuckled weakly, channeling another Heal Pulse into the Poké Ball. A cold pit formed in his stomach and spread to his chest. He realized his mistake too late, and his vision darkened completely.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 86 –Titan’s Shadow​

Wheat fields cut by pale grass paths surrounded Leo and Spice. For a whole day, they had traveled on foot, gathering berries to supplement their rations—Leo refused to hunt for ethical reasons—and taking safer routes to ration Spice’s healing supplies further added to their travel time. This amounted to night coming too early, and Leo had offered to take shifts.

Spice, of course, refused, as she was still not even the slightest bit tired.

After a sleepless night, Spice led a drowsy Leo through the last of the wheat fields, asking, “And this is Yotta Outskirts?”

“The wheat district, but yes. Crops must have rotated since I last visited… Used to be sunflowers.” Leo suppressed a yawn. “At least the climate here allows for wheat, even as autumn comes in full swing…”

“I suppose the local Grass would help with keeping growth steady,” Spice said, careful to keep away from the crops so she didn’t accidentally contaminate them with her element. “Leo, did you sleep at all? You seem…”

“I’m fine. We’ll use this as a rest stop before…” Another yawn. “What time is it?”

Spice looked at the horizon, where the sun was starting to peek out from the top of Kilo Mountain. “Barely morning. I want to say we’re a little past the twentieth kilo.” Spice looked back. “You slept right at midnight, with how much you were stirring.”

“You kept pacing,” Leo let slip.

Spice flinched, suddenly wincing when a loose sprig of wheat flew into her face. “I didn’t know that kept you up,” she mumbled, flicking the wheat away. “Sorry. I was getting restless again, and I had to chase off some random wild.”

“It’s fine,” Leo said. “But first thing, we’re getting you checked. How many days, now?”

Spice was tired of hearing it, so she didn’t reply at all and pointed forward. “Where’s your home?”

Leo pointed with a limp finger. “Skip the next two acres, then make a left, then a right again, and then it’ll be the fifth house to your left…”

“…Remind me again when we get closer.”

The brown field of wheat that waved with the breeze was soothingly normal. Occasionally, Leo stumbled over some lumpy part of the ground, or some imperfection in the path, too tired and too used to the paved roads of Kilo Village when not in combat.

“You alright?” Spice said.

“I’m fine,” Leo mumbled. “This walk took a lot out of me. Between avoiding Dungeons, the lack of sleep, and whatever’s happening in the sky… Oh, this way, Spice.”

A little more walking and the fields were behind them, replaced by rows of homes, each one made of some decorated clay, brick, or other kind of cement. Some were larger than others or in odd shapes to accommodate for the residences.

Compared to Kilo Village, it was very low-tech. Leo wondered if they had any technology inside yet. Clocks, or did they rely on the sun? Ovens, or Fire and Orbs? Spice hummed.

Even as they stopped in front of the home Leo had identified as his parents’ abode, Spice asked, “Leo, you don’t think this place was badly affected by most Dungeon equipment going bad, do you?”

“I’m not sure,” he said as Spice knocked on the door. Fine, old wood. Lasted well in the dry climate. She wondered if it had Passho blessings, or perhaps Occa to resist the Fire resident inside.

“WHOZZERE?!”

Spice blinked and stepped back. A low, weak hissing came from the other side of the door.

“It’s just me, Father!” Leo called tiredly.

“WHOZZAT?!”

“He’s… hard of hearing,” Leo said awkwardly. “Try opening the door. Actually, could you stay forward for this?”

“What?”

Spice pushed lightly against the door, and to her surprise, it was unlocked. She looked at Leo once more, uncertain. Wouldn’t it frighten them?

But Leo motioned vaguely to advance, and Spice complied.

A few globs of poison flew from the entrance. She ducked out of the way and pulled Leo with her; the poison bubbled, inert, on the ground. It was old poison; while toxic, it wasn’t very effective compared to her own.

“That’ll teach ya! Break and enter this old home! Shameful! Shame on you! Now beg for a Pecha, I dare ya!”

“Who’s there, Tari?” called another voice. “More villains? Oh, I hope not…”

“Mother! It’s me, Leo!” He casted a small ember in the air to light the inside.

With the darkness giving way, a large and pale Arbok, with unevenly patched scales, squinted and hissed in their general direction. Far behind, sitting in an old rocking chair of Occa wood, was a Delphox with clouded eyes and a noticeable layer of fur all around her general area. A half-knitted, well-made scarf lay half-made in her lap. All one color, yet what impressed Spice on second glance was that there was no way she could have seen her handiwork.

“Leo? Come here, let me feel your paw.”

“Bah, Leo! As if you can fool me, bandit!” Tari slithered forward and hissed in Leo’s general direction again, blinking several times while his pupils dilated strangely. More hissing—Leo stood still, looking mildly annoyed but tolerant—and finally he pulled back.

“He’s at least a Leo impersonator,” he said dutifully. “Go ahead and see your mother, if I can really call you her son!”

Spice could see the hesitance in his words and immediately felt disarmed. Was Leo’s father really trying to save face for his original mistake?

“Of course, Father.”

Spice rubbed the back of her head, standing awkwardly by the entryway. Countless trinkets that she couldn’t discern lined the crowded shelves along the walls of this three-room home. The main entry was the largest, with both the kitchen and the dining area, consisting of a cozy table, a stone stove with no power source, a storage cabinet… To her right, the bed, just one, large for at least three Pokémon of this family stature. And the left, a closed door, Spice knew would be a washroom, though she wondered where the water would come from.

Turning her attention forward again, she saw the ‘face’ on the Arbok father’s chest, glaring angrily at her. Looking up to the true head, she tensed and waited for some sort of ill-made strike.

“You think you can cozy up to my impostor son that easily? Don’t think I can be fooled, you silver-tongued temptress…”

“E-excuse me?” Spice stepped back.

“Father!” Leo hissed, breaking away from some silent communication between his mother. “That is my partner for Heart business!”

“It’s certainly him, Tari,” Leo’s mother rasped.

“Gahh, we’re old, who knows if we can tell,” Tari replied, waving his tail dismissively. “…I know, you’re gonna prove it to me. When was the last time you were supposed to visit us, eh?”

“Two moons ago at the peak of summer,” Leo replied coolly. “I was the only one of your kids who couldn’t make it because I was out on an assignment, but I sent my regards and a gift. I suppose I’m making up for it now.”

Tari hummed again, hissing and flicking his tongue in the air. “I heard half’a that, you’re mumbling too much. But fine, ya know, that was a detailed answer. I believe ya.”

“Now, what’s this about bandits?” Leo said, sitting down. “Here, in town?”

“Oh, it was awful!” Leo’s mother said. “I—oh, and who are you?” She turned her head to Spice, and for a moment, Spice had to register that she could somehow see—no, sense. Psychics. Of course.

“Er, Salazzle Spice. Part of Team Alight, with Leo. The rest of our team had been taking a break.”

Leo adjusted himself again.

“A pleasure to meet you, Spice. My name is Aries. Please, don’t mind Tari. He’s just being careful after the bandits attacked.”

“What bandits? How could there be bandits here?” Leo said urgently.

“Oh, it was awful!” Aries said again. “Bandits. They ran through the wheat fields, kicking up the crops and flooding it, burning it, all kinds off damage! Monstrous! Nearly made it to our homes before a few brave souls fended them off, but oh! Some were badly hurt. It was so lucky that we had some healing supplies left. So rare, an attack, so rare, but it happened…”

“One bandit didn’t stand a chance against me!” Tari said, flicking his tongue confidently. “He was so scared of my power that he didn’t even come close!”

Spice decided to choose her battles, too. “Leo, do you think it was a mutant?”

“Did you get a closer look?” Leo asked Aries.

“No, I stayed inside as instructed. And Tari was sure to lock the doors, too.”

Spice frowned, looking at the door. The knob had fallen off some time ago, it seemed, and Tari might not have even noticed.

This sort of environment never would have passed in the south. She couldn’t imagine letting these two live on their own. She flashed a concerned look at Leo, but he deliberately—she was sure of it—looked away.

“Leo, you sound so tired,” Aries said. “Why don’t you rest for today? You aren’t needed back at the capitol, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Leo said. “I suppose I can rest here, if you’ll allow it.”

“What nonsense phrasing!” Aries reached for a small, wooden stick a few times, then pointed it at Leo. “You’re always welcome! I’m going to rest right here on my chair tonight so you can take the bed.”

“Now, Mother, that’s hardly necessary,” Leo said. “I—”

“Don’t you talk back to your mother that way!” Tari drawled hysterically. “You’re heading there and that’s final!”

“It’s not even noon,” Leo said.

“I can smell how tired you are,” Tari said. “Now, go on! Get!”

Leo sighed, nodding at Spice. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you,” he said. “I do need some rest…”

“And you!” Tari said, pointing at Spice. “If you’re gonna try to tempt my son for grandchildren, you better do it nicely! Now go!”

There were so many battles to not fight. But this was one she had to speak for. “We aren’t even in the same egg group, you know,” she said, glancing at Leo, who shook his head pleadingly.

“Bah, you and your newfangled Orb technology makes anything possible! I heard all about it! You’d make Mew cry, I tell ya, changing the gifts ya got!”

Did he want her to have kids or not?! Spice was about to object, but then realized that she could use this opportunity to speak with Leo anyway.

“…I’ll keep it in mind,” Spice said to Tari as Leo slipped into his old room.

“Yeah, and be quiet about it!” Tari said, slithering toward the closed door on the other side of the room. “Have some respect!”

He brought his tail forward and pulled on a lever, which opened the door and revealed a washroom; Spice caught sight of what seemed to be a Rainy Orb in the ceiling. She frowned, concerned that it was no longer operational… But the moment the thought crossed her mind, she heard the sound of water filling a sink.

“Oh,” Spice said, relief making her shoulders feel lighter. “Your Orb technology is still working?”

“Oh, it is,” Aries said. “It’s actually a traditionally made Orb, not one from Kilo Village. Tari is… stubborn and old-fashioned about things.”

Spice had zero trouble believing this.

“He’ll refuse to acknowledge when he’s wrong, piling crazier and crazier claims to prove himself right…” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I’m sorry you got caught up in it. I promise, he’s much sharper than he presented himself.”

“I—I wasn’t thinking he was senile or anything,” Spice lied.

And then Spice remembered Aries was Psychic, based on that gray-eyed, knowing smile. “Well,” Aries said, “thank you. He just wants to be useful. Being an Arbok among a family of Delphox has left him… wanting to do as much as he can.”

“Oh.” Spice hadn’t considered that. “Well, like I said. He’s probably sharper than he lets on.”

“I wouldn’t have had a family with him if he wasn’t,” Aries said. “But Spice, you seem… troubled.”

“Well, who isn’t? The world seems upside-down, and we haven’t even gotten to Kilo Village yet.” Spice crossed her arms.

“Mm…” Aries tilted her head. “But Leo sounded worried for you, too. Is something wrong?”

“Oh, that,” Spice said, shaking her head—before realizing Aries wouldn’t see it. “No, that’s nothing. You probably know how much Leo worries for nothing.”

“Is it for nothing?”

Right, this was his mother. Delicate words. “He cares a lot for his team,” Spice said. “He’s only worried that I haven’t been sleeping lately.”

“For how long?”

“A few days,” Spice said.

“A few? How many?”

What was this, an interrogation? Spice kept her voice even. “I stopped keeping track of it. Five, six?”

Aries’ blind eyes widened.

“I know, I know, but I really do feel fine.”

“Does your family have a history of insomnia?” Aries asked.

“No.”

“How about… strange mood patterns? Anything like that?”

“No,” Spice said. “Well—my mother, after my sister and I hatched, used to get episodes of confusion and fear, but I’ve never had those, and also, I don’t have kids.”

“Hmm… Spice, may I take a closer listen to you?” Aries asked.

Spice tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aries said, sinking into her chair. “I used to be a general therapist. I’m no expert in any one field, but I can help narrow things down to experts if necessary.”

“It’s not—” Spice frowned, starting to wonder. Six days was bordering on the supernatural. Was this beyond the scope of therapy? “I feel perfectly fine. A little energized, sure, and I don’t get tired, but the most annoying part about it is everyone else worrying about it.”

“Hmm… May I at least analyze your psyche, then?”

“How invasive is that?” Spice said tentatively.

“Not at all,” Aries said. “I don’t read your thoughts. I only see if there is any turmoil in your mind. For me to go deeper, I would need your cooperation.”

“I’m a Poison, you know. I’m kind of sensitive to Psychic readings.”

“Not to worry. My mate is an Arbok, after all.”

She had a point. Deciding to comply—if Leo would listen to anyone, it would be her mother—Spice approached Aries and crouched down. “I just sit here?”

“Yes. You don’t need to do anything more than answer my questions. Spice, is anything bothering you?”

“Well, the world might be ending.”

“Mm… And what about Leo?”

“He’s got a few wounds that he’s still healing up, because Orans stopped working like they should. But he’s better now, so I’m less worried for him. Now that we’re at his home, I’m actually feeling a lot better about things.”

“I see, mm… And what else are you thinking about?”

“How Kilo Village is doing. A lot of strange stuff has been happening there in hindsight, not to mention that Ice Aggron that attacked a superpowered, creepy Espurr. I don’t know. It feels like all of this is somehow related.”

“Hmmm…”

“Of course it’s related!” came Tari’s voice as he slithered out of the washroom. His scales glistened with water. The added depth to his color made him look a few years younger. “Bet it’s related to all this nonsense. Those bandits, too, I tell ya. It’s all a great omen! Arceus is here to punish us for straying far from the path! Mew, too!”

“Now, we don’t know that for certain,” Aries said.

“Destiny Tower has risen!” Tari declared. “It’s time for new Pokémon to ascend, I tell ya! Why, if I had a few decades off, I’d try and climb myself!”

Aries smiled, and then said, “Tari, I don’t know if those stories are true. But perhaps if we’re ever lucky enough, we can ask Arceus Himself one day.”

“Bah! I’ll wait fer death.” Tari waved his tail dismissively. “All those floors sound like too much trouble.”

Spice had no idea what he was talking about, but it probably had to do with the Book of Arceus. She shrugged it off and asked Aries, “How is my head?”

“Well,” Aries admitted, “I don’t sense any abnormal turmoil. You… simply aren’t tired.”

The relief of validation hit Spice first, and then, seconds later, was followed by the same worry. “Then you don’t know why I’m like this, either? It won’t suddenly kill me, will it?”

Aries frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know,” she said. “When you go to Kilo Village, you should seek out a sleep specialist. I know the son of a Hypno who is actually a wonderful therapist. You should look for him when you return. His father rarely failed at his treatments—I think the only one he couldn’t help was a Charmander that kept burning his bed from chronic sleep-fighting.”

“Right,” Spice said. “Sleep specialist.”

And now, they were doctor’s orders. So much for convincing Leo she’d be fine… “Well, thank you,” she said, turning back toward Leo’s room. “I’m going to try to rest.”

“Take care,” Aries said.

“How long do Salandit eggs take?” Tari asked.

Aries gently bopped Tari on the snout. Despite not seeing, she looked like she knew exactly where he was.

Spice sighed, slipping inside Leo’s room. “Hey, we need to t—”

He was already asleep. His body was curled around a soft bed of orange fabric stuffed with cotton, head resting on a large, white pillow. She’d never seen him look so dead to the world and peaceful. A small smile curled along her right side.

They could talk later. Leo didn’t deserve to be disturbed from a sleep so wonderful. Despite the fact that she wasn’t tired at all, Spice felt envious.

Then, hearing Tari hiss sweet nothings to Aries—and Aries giggling lowly back—made Spice realize that now was the perfect time for a walk. A long, faraway walk.

She didn’t dare leave through the front entrance. Thankfully, there was a window. Unlatching it—noting that it didn’t feel very reinforced—she pulled the wooden door open. It creaked like the rocking chair, but they didn’t hear it. She crawled outside and closed it behind her with her tail.

Her scales were tingling again, this time below her—which was unusual. Usually it was to the southwest. On reflex, she lowered her body to the dirt, squeezing her claws into the ground. Eyes closed, she tilted her head. Far away. It was far, far away, whatever it was.

…What was it?

“Erm, excuse me.”

Spice perked up to see a Scrafty looking worriedly at her.

“Are you okay?” Scrafty asked.

“Yes. Sorry.” Spice pulled herself away from the dirt and brushed off her scales.

Scrafty’s eyes immediately darted toward the scar on her chest, so Spice narrowed her eyes in return.

“Like what you see?” she growled.

“N-no! I mean—yes! No? Sorry!” Scrafty quickly brought his head down. “I’m sorry. You must have gone through a lot of trouble.”

Spice rolled her eyes. “Whatever, look, I’m just on a walk.”

“Do you sense an earthquake coming?” Scrafty asked.

“…No? What?”

“I heard that some Pokémon have a sense for that sort of thing.”

“Well, not me.”

“What did you sense?”

“I—” Spice wasn’t sure why she was answering all these questions. “I don’t know. Been sensing strange stuff lately. First from where that vortex is coming from, and then below me.”

“B-below? Right under this town?!”

“No. Feels a lot further away than that. Who knows? Maybe it’s like one of those stories where a great evil is sealed inside the world’s core.” Spice shrugged, though she did hope to get an amused reaction from Scrafty. Regret filled her shortly after: she’d never seen so much terror in someone’s eyes. “Hey, hey, c’mon, that’s stupid. Maybe it’s, I dunno, on the opposite side of the world instead?”

“Isn’t there nothing but ocean there?” Scrafty said, voice still trembling. “M-maybe it really is a demon in the world’s—”

“It’s not a demon,” Spice said tiredly, shaking her head. “Come on, don’t be silly.”

“Duh-didn’t you hear that voice in the sky, and-and the dark clouds, and—”

He had a point, but Spice wasn’t in the mood to hear about doomsday theories. “Look, forget I said anything. I haven’t had sleep in…” She forgot. “A while. Maybe I’m starting to hallucinate.”

Scrafty frowned, looking skeptical. And she couldn’t blame him; aside from the first impression, she felt perfectly fine.

After an awkward silence, Spice eventually said, “Don’t worry. Now, I’m going for a walk. Official… Heart business. So don’t—”

A distant thunderclap gently jostled the air. Spice couldn’t tell which direction it came from; first it was from the left, then a little while later, from behind. All around like an enclosing shockwave. Her scales felt like electricity.

“…Probably nothing,” Spice lied. But this time, she saw a little of her own fear reflected in Scrafty’s eyes.

<><><>​

Owen didn’t have as much luck with finding berries this time around, so he settled for getting as much of the tree taffy as he could to satiate his appetite. His jaw hurt from all the chewing he had to do, and he was starting to get the feeling that his stomach was starting to get wise to the fact that it was being fed mostly fiber and red water. Even after he had taken down what he was sure was his whole head’s worth of wood, his gut still felt empty. He had to find something to eat soon—and something that wasn’t foul from a day of being left to rot, either.

Eventually, he heard the sound of running water. While he hoped it was clear, he knew not to get his hopes up—and, indeed, the river was red with the same dust that permeated the land. He scrambled to the edge and drank his fill—he was desperate enough at this point that the taste was a mere afterthought—and then tried to decide which way to go.

The river was only a short way across, but it seemed deep. Swimming through it in his state ran the risk of drowning. It was only a stone’s throw across, perhaps ten feet, but for a Charmander—a starving Charmander—that could spell death. Owen hesitantly glanced at his flame; no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he’d never seen the flame so small. Its width was less than the middle of his tail. Never a good sign if he was supposed to be in decent condition.

The thought of food had crossed his mind several times. Some Tamato soup—spicy and burning against his tongue. Perhaps some potatoes to go with it, fried in the juices so it took on that same spicy flavor. And what if there was some meat in it? Fake, plant-based, or from a real, living creature—Owen wondered if he’d be able to have something substantive soon. Anything. Did he even have the strength to hunt? Because he likely would have no choice but to hunt; he hadn’t seen a sign of any kind of society in a while.

Maybe he could eat another patch of berries. Or just a vegetable. Anything? Something to dig his teeth into, to feel it pressing against his cheeks. To have a full mouthful of soft food, or hard food that pressed against his gums with every bite of his sharp teeth.

He was drooling. The Charmander quickly wiped his mouth—had anybody seen him? But no, there was nobody. As usual.

The river came from the dark forest; the water flowed away from it and into the black plateau fields. Which way? Going upstream, would he find a settlement of any kind? But the forest was also dangerous. He could run into the same creatures that had hurt Amia—did the wraiths live there? But downstream, it was nothing but a wasteland. Perhaps if he had more supplies, but…

But Amia was probably still there. Owen couldn’t remember many details about what had happened when he had first died, but the ground was dry. The forest’s ground was damp. If he was reformed somewhere nearby—in a dry location like the plateau fields—then did the same go for Amia? If she died there, was she still wandering around, a Ralts lost and confused? What would she be capable of?

That settled it. Amia was the top priority—it was the only thing that he knew in this world, and going in some blind direction wasn’t going to help. He had a sense for where he had been last time; perhaps, if he got within range again, he’d find her the same way.

Owen followed the river at a careful distance; even if he fell or stumbled from weakness, or strayed too far from his wobbly path, he didn’t want to risk actually falling into the river unless he needed a drink. He was tempted to try to clean and freshen himself up, but he didn’t think it was a good idea with how disoriented he was feeling. Thankful that he was lucid enough to realize this, he dedicated what energy he had left to finding signs of life.

<><><>​

Bigtail left.

Charmander didn’t want to watch that happen like so many of his other siblings. Charizard was so happy to see him go, giving him well-wishes and a proud Flamethrower. Bigtail had launched an ember into the flames, perhaps symbolic that one day he would be able to match her power, or perhaps that his flame would never truly leave hers.

When the family tradition had started was unknown to Charmander, just that it was.

And now Redscale was marching over the burned fields with the other Charmander, each one eager to go and find their human.

Smallflame remained behind, sitting with his father.

“You’ve been strong enough to get a human for a while,” Marowak said, tapping his bone club on a nearby rock. Tap tap tap. Charmander knew it was because he was thinking about something. He was always so quiet—Charizard liked that about him—and when he spoke, it always had meaning. Layers to what he said. He was a smart Marowak. Smarter than most Pokémon. Probably smarter than him, too.

“I guess,” Charmander said. He reached for a stick, burning the end to pass the time.

“You don’t want to go, like Bigtail?”

Of course he’d ask that. Ever since Charizard talked to him about her late trainer, all the wonderful adventures that they’d been through together, the eternal ember that she claimed existed in that human… He’d never listened to the story so intently before. But were humans really all that good?

He still didn’t understand why they interacted with humans so often in the first place. Was there a point to it at all? He wished they’d just gone to some faraway place that humans didn’t bother with, instead of right next to a weird building where neighboring Squirtle and Bulbasaur would occasionally pester them for playdates. Which he also found bothersome. Either he was afraid of getting soaked by a Squirtle that didn’t understand that water was bad, or he was trying to calm down a skittish Bulbasaur that didn’t understand that fire was good.

“Can’t I stay like Redscale?” Charmander asked.

“Well, you can…” Marowak looked down. “But don’t you want wings?”

“I’ll get them.”

Marowak frowned, looking at the human building down the path. “Redscale is our oldest child, Smallflame. He wanted to stay, and that was fine and his choice. He wasn’t interested in wings. He was interested in letting all his other siblings have wings, but… So many of his younger brothers and sisters already have them. And we don’t know if he will become strong enough, fast enough to get them before he is too old.”

Smallflame grumbled. “Because humans… make us stronger.”

“There’s something special about humans that lets Pokémon get stronger, faster. And that’s especially true for us. If you want wings in time to live your life as a Charizard… you need a human. Your mother, and your mother’s mother, and so on… They all followed the tradition of joining a human so you can grow, together.”

“Then what about when I become a Charizard? Can I just leave my human?”

Marowak’s bony mask made it impossible to read his expression unless he wanted it read. But this time, his eyes were smiling. “If you want to, you can leave whenever you want, Smallflame. But when you meet your human, I don’t think you will.”

<><><>​

At some point, Owen referred to them as ‘days,’ because he didn’t know what they were otherwise. They felt shorter than days, but he tired quickly, and used the opportunities of stopping for a meal of wood, drinking from the lake, and finding a safe cave to sleep a day. He didn’t have the fortune of running into another abandoned pot of stew—not that he’d want to risk that again. But soon, as his wood dried and his supplies dwindled again, he grew more and more desperate for something to eat.

He had visited a few caves and happened upon two more of those odd crystals. One was red with a flame emblem inside. Another was a curious white with a circular emblem. He still didn’t know what they were, but they were shiny, and pretty, and his hands weren’t very full with anything else at that point.

The sparse landscape allowed for a lot of time to think. His thoughts were starting to become repetitive, obsessive. They circled around Zena and how she might have still been fighting somewhere in these wastelands. He wondered if she was able to find anything to eat here, like berries, or at least something better than wood. How were Demitri and Mispy doing? Mispy was always hungry. Hopefully she wouldn’t try to eat Demitri.

That—that wasn’t a real danger, was it? She wouldn’t dare. Then again, she dared to eat her bed. And did. Owen wouldn’t mind eating a bed at this point. Or maybe a bed of leaves in a salad. He wasn’t sure what would kill him first, the hunger or the wraiths that were surely hidden somewhere, watching him. Waiting for the next moment he had a chance to eat. Were wraiths edible?

He rubbed his forehead roughly and growled, but he didn’t dare release an ember. He didn’t know where the energy for Ember came from, but he was sure that at least some of it was drawn from his food, maybe. He should have asked Star back before she became horrible.

The ground rumbled again. It had been so long since the last tremor that Owen didn’t know what to do with himself. He searched for a large boulder to hide behind, but then realized the nearest one was too far away. His pulse quickened. What was he supposed to do now? He spun around when another rumble got to him, and then he saw—

It saw him.

It was at least three plateaus away, but it saw him. An orange speck in the purple dirt. His flame—could the giant thing see it? And those colorful crystals in his possession—were they bright? Did the titans sense them?

Owen ran—no need for stealth now—and searched for a cave to hide in. But would that even matter? It would just pull him out if he tried.

That shaking was even louder. Owen looked back and squeaked. This titan had four legs and was bulkier than the first one that he’d seen. He didn’t know if it had a face; it didn’t seem to have a—no, its head just grew out of its shoulders, not unlike Elder emerging from his shell.

It was walking toward him. Directly toward him. Every stride took it across the plateaus by at least halfway between them. In just ten of those slow strides, it would be right on him.

Another thump, and then another, each one shaking the ground a little more. Owen noticed that the very dust on the ground was disturbed by them, now. Tiny shockwaves that went ahead of him and faded into the distance.

It was running. Running toward him. Owen’s heart pounded, the little energy he had left going all into his legs.

And then it roared. It was that same roar—this was the same titan from before, had to be, that sounded like the entire world whispering through the air, screaming at him.

He also felt the presence of another crystal—a dull one, like when he had sensed Amia. It was coming from the titan; perhaps a few of the crystals were lodged inside its body. Owen didn’t want to find out; any closer and it’d probably crush him.

His heart skipped a beat, that dull feeling, that Mystic pull, tugging at the back of his mind. Did that behemoth have a Mystic aura? It was so close, now, that he could feel it. It was faint, but it was there, the same way Amia had felt. Why did it feel like that? What would happen to Owen if he got captured?

He had to hide, and it was right behind him, and if it got him, some primal part of his mind told him that he had to avoid it more than death itself.

So, he jumped into the river.

The painful heat that ran through his legs suddenly became a bitter cold that stabbed at his chest. An instant later, it spread to his tail, but by now he was used to the concept of water shock. Waking up at the bottom of the lake was already bad enough—what more could be done here?

He didn’t remember to take a breath. Could he risk surfacing? He tried to look up, but he had no idea where it was. Instead, Owen went to the riverside, keeping his tail in the water against all instincts, and pressed the tip of his muzzle out of the water. He breathed deeply—surely he was too small for it to hear him—and sank underwater again.

The ground shook—he felt it when his claws dug into the riverside, but the water was so thick with red that he couldn’t see clearly. Only brightness, and darkness, where the sky was and where the riverbed was.

His lungs burned again. Before he had the chance to take another breath—he was so frantic—he heard the rumble again, and stopped. If he raised his head now, it would surely try to take him. He pushed his body downward, a bit below the water’s surface. His tail bubbled, struggling to stay alight, not that it mattered anymore. It was already producing steam, but the bubbles, he prayed to a god that probably didn’t hear him anymore, wouldn’t be noticed.

He had to stay calm. Calm so his breath could last longer; calm so, if something happened, he could outlast it.

The rumbling shook his body, and then he heard a splash. For a split-second, Owen thought that was it, that he’d be taken, especially when a huge wave overtook the water above him, bringing huge lumps of mud over his body. His entire body went up, and then fall, fall, fall—slam into the ground, but his fall was cushioned by all the water and mud around him.

The thing had dug out a whole segment of the land, and Owen was caught up in it. He was out of the lake, but now he was under an insurmountable pile of mud.

And then everything was quiet. Owen couldn’t see anymore; he kept his eyes closed. He didn’t know which way was up. Mud covered all parts of his body.

His chest burned. No time; even if he outlasted it, if it left and he was stuck, there was no use in trying to stay hidden. He reached forward—he still had one of the crystals in his hands, the green one. It was a struggle against the mud, but if he moved slowly enough, it parted for him.

He kept moving. More resistance. Was this even the right direction? He didn’t know which way was up—he had to breathe—but was he just going deeper? He couldn’t see anything—just one breath, a little air—but could he sense up and down some other way? The mud was too thick—could he breathe mud? His body thought so—no, that was no good. Maybe the crystal—yes, the crystal!

The mud wasn’t all that compressed. He probably wasn’t too deep in the mound. He had to go up. The crystal, if he made some room, would go down. He wiggled his arm—HE NEEDED AIR NOW—and released his grip. There was open air above the crystal—it felt hollow as the mud lost its moisture—but it stayed in his hand.

What did that mean? Was that up? Crystal, in hand. Crystal, hand. Air. Air. AIR. AIR. Hand, crystal. Hand below crystal. Hand, down. Crystal, up. So up was behind him? No. Front. Up was front. Push front.

Using the crystal to guide him, he pushed his hand forward and followed it. He used the sharp end to dig a hole, and then his hand broke through. He was squeezing so hard that the crystal fell out, but that didn’t matter. That was an opening.

He pushed his arm, then his shoulder—he wanted to cry, as did his lungs if they had eyes—and then out came the head.

Why did air hurt so much?

It was such a relief at the same time, though, but he’d breathed in too fast. He coughed and sputtered—he still couldn’t see—and had forgotten about the titan. At some point, the rumbles had stopped. The mud came off easily, at least; after a few globs from his face, he could open one eye to see—blurrily—that the titan was on the other side of the small river, digging in the dirt. Realizing this, he quickly brought the mud back over his face, leaving only a small hole to peek through.

The water spread across the dusty ground, turning it all into some strange, sea of thick red, like coagulated blood. It reminded Owen of mashed berries, or ground meat, maybe both at the same time. The crystal shined near the bottom of the mud pile; hopefully the giant wraith-thing wouldn’t notice it. It seemed more occupied trying to find him, anyway.

Eventually, it must have lost interest, because it stopped digging and wandered away. The relief that followed almost outweighed the general heaviness in his chest. With his remaining strength—at this point didn’t know where it was drawn from—he pulled himself out of the mud and rolled limply to the bottom of the mound, landing on the crystal with an annoyed grunt.

A small ember filled his body with warmth, starting from the tip of his tail, spreading to his gut, and finally to his chest and head, like sinking into a warm pit of lava. The soft, usually imperceptible drone of the flame was like music. An indifferent wind blew over the destroyed riverside, chilling the water and leaving small ripples over the puddles beside him.

Owen didn’t realize until later that he was laughing.

How many ways did he just avoid dying? First, there was the obvious threat of getting eaten, crushed, or who knows what else by that giant wraith. Second, there was the simple act of drowning, or water shock, or anything to do with a Charmander being submerged under water. Did starving also count? That was a third one. He was still at risk of that. But the fourth—perhaps the worst of it all—was suffocating under the mud. Even after escaping from everything else, what a way to go.

His laughter settled down from fatigue. Everything was blurry. Perhaps just a short rest was in order; after all, he didn’t really have anything else to…

Something was flying across the sky. It was a black dot—no, gray. Black was the wraith he had just evaded. Gray? The Charmander narrowed his pupils, focusing on the distant object with more clarity.

That’s an Aerodactyl.

It came circling around again. The wide bank suggested he was scouting for something, but was also cautious of the wraith, though by now it was far into the plateaus. The altitude suggested he was flying below the plateaus, probably so he didn’t get spotted.

Owen wondered if blending in was the best option now. He wiggled his tail, trying to push it out of the mud. The gentle warmth of his flame was there, but weak. Jerry probably couldn’t spot him… It had to be Jerry.

Weakly, Owen brushed away at the wet mud, hoping that some of his cream and orange scales showed in the mess. Jerry circled around again, getting closer this time.

Did he have some other way to get known quickly? He didn’t have the energy for a flame. If he tried, it would probably just be smoke and—

Smoke…

Owen breathed in, wondering if he still had it. Surely, he did. A technique he should probably rely on much more often now that he was so weak. What felt like cloudy bile collected in the back of his throat, and then he spat.

Messy, but it got the point across: A wobbly, black sphere escaped him and popped in midair, sending huge plumes of smoke all over the area. He could only see the vaguest of silhouettes, now, but the Aerodactyl was coming a lot closer.

If it wasn’t Jerry, would he be food?

“You better be Owen somehow,” the Aerodactyl said with a murmur.

At least he wouldn’t get eaten twice. Owen laughed, raising an arm to wave in what he was certain was the wrong direction. “Jerry…”

“I can’t believe it. Which one should I remark on first? The fact that you’ve got a foot in the grave, or that you’re a Charmander for some reason?”

A winged claw grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out of the mud, which had come close to solidifying around his warm body. After setting him on his feet, Jerry looked Owen over and growled with concern. “You’re a mess.”

Owen plopped onto his rear and slumped over. “Sorry,” Owen said, though he was still grinning. His voice, in the back of his mind, surprised him. He lost track of how many days he’d gone without talking. After the first two, when he had run out of food, he had stopped speaking to conserve energy. And that had been several days ago. A handful at least. A Charizard’s handful, not a Charmander’s handful. Tiny hands. Tiny Charmander hands. At least he had better fingers. “Ran into a lot of trouble.” Owen said at some point.

“A lot of trouble! Understatement of the century. Which probably means you made five more of those, huh? Mister half-millennium.”

“I might be even older,” Owen mumbled absently.

Jerry tried to help Owen up, but nothing he did was enough to get him to his feet.

Owen laughed again, still leaning his weight against Jerry’s wing. It hadn’t fully registered to him that the Aerodactyl had even arrived; everything felt like a dream. A happy, relaxing dream. Jerry felt so warm.

“Hey, HEY! Owen, you idiot, don’t—aghh, there we go…”

Everything was dark. The mud felt so cozy. So cozy. Just a small nap…

<><><>​

That was odd. Owen was starting to get used to the feeling of confusing dreams and his memories of some other time returning to him. But this time, he felt like he was nowhere, floating yet heavy on a ground that didn’t exist below him.

Hello? Owen called to nothing.

And, predictably, nothing replied back.

So dark. Was his tail flame extinguished? He felt alive. Then again, between the Orb, eating his old body, and being Mystic, the idea of death had lost its meaning a long time ago.

So bright! Owen squeezed his eyes shut and it still shined through his eyelids.

He saw a star, but he couldn’t tell how many sides it had. Unable to hold on any longer, Owen slipped away again.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 87 – Sunken Eyes​

“Alright, Charizard. Why did you want us to come over? You don’t usually go flying all the way to the lab unless one of your kids is sick…”

Charizard grunted, looking at the remaining children she had. She held her belly once, feeling the telltale signs of another egg coming, but then looked at Redscale, Smallflame, and two other Charmander—the latter two still not ready to go with a human.

“They look healthy to me. You have another egg coming, don’t you?” The human with the fireproof coat rubbed Charizard on the shoulder. “You aren’t getting a little egg-protective, are you?”

Charizard grumbled and sat down next to Smallflame, using her tail to nudge him forward.

“Oh?” The assistant looked down.

“Smallflame wants to challenge you,” Charizard said. “I made a wager with him. He wants to see proof of the strength that Pokémon gain from humans.”

“Hmm…” It didn’t seem like the human fully understood her. Instead, she looked at Smallflame. “What do you want, little guy?”

Smallflame spat a flame on the ground and stomped his foot. “Fight me!”

“Oh! Well, that’s pretty obvious.” The human laughed, digging through her pockets. “I think I understand. You want to see how strong Pokémon can be, huh?” She pulled out a clipboard. “Why don’t you wait here? I know just the thing.”

She left, and Smallflame spent a good while kicking the dirt and huffing angrily.

Charizard smiled and bumped her tail against Smallflame again. “Think you’ll win?”

“Of course,” Smallflame said. “I trained under Redscale. I’m unbeatable.”

Charizard shrugged, adjusting her position to get more comfortable. “I think the egg’s coming soon,” she murmured to herself.

Smallflame nodded, but then looked back at the facility. He heard the door opening, and out came two humans. The first was the same as before; the other was a young human with long hair. Curious eyes. What did she want? Was that his opponent? She looked weak.

“Okay, found your opponent! You ready to go, Charmander?”

“Always.” Smallflame hopped on his feet.

“Wait.” Charizard carefully stood up. “This isn’t going to be a simple fight. Smallflame said that he needs to be convinced that a Pokémon with a human is stronger… and if he’s convinced, he’ll go with one, too.”

Smallflame’s chest tightened at the prospect, but he nodded firmly.

“What?” the human asked. “I don’t understand… Sorry. You don’t want to fight?”

“Oh, I think I know what’s going on,” the unfamiliar, younger human said. “If I had to guess…” She dug through her bag, pulling out an empty Poké Ball.

Charizard smiled.

“Yep!” The young trainer looked at the lab assistant. “They want this to be a battle to catch Charmander.”

“Oh! So clever.” The lab assistant nodded. “Would you mind doing that for us? A simple fight to get things going, and then I can take him to the lab if he decides to come with us. Can you and your partner do that?”

“Oh, um… Well, let me ask. Maybe he understands the situation?” She dug through her bag and pulled out another ball.

Smallflame growled. He was never going to wind up in one of those things; there was no point. Crammed up like that, just because some stupid human needed a guard while they went on a self-serving adventure? So, what? His siblings could do that. Not him.

“Alright, let’s do this!” She tossed the ball forward; in midair, it burst open, and the ball went flying back to the trainer. The zigzag of white light materialized into a Bulbasaur.

Smallflame’s apprehension suddenly switched to confusion, and then his face twisted into a smirk. This would be easy.

“My, aren’t you confident?” Charizard said, smiling.

He looked back, daring to glare, and then looked back at Bulbasaur. He seemed ready to fight, so Smallflame roared out a challenge. “Alright, you dumb Bulbasaur! I’ll beat you in two attacks! Just watch!”

“Wow, two, I’m sooo impressed.” Bulbasaur rolled his eyes.

Charmander crouched down and ran forward, flames erupting from his throat. Bulbasaur’s vine came whipping out quickly—it suddenly transformed into sharp claws, slashing at his shoulders.

<><><>​

“Kid, wake up already,” Jerry said, his wing-claws grasping Owen’s shoulders.

Owen shook limply, eyes fluttering open. “Huh? Wuh?”

“Finally.” Jerry stopped. Owen’s arms felt sticky—no, not sticky. Crusty? That was a good word for it. With blurry vision, Owen tried to wipe away at that crusty feeling, only to realize that it was dried mud caked on his scales.

“Ugh, you couldn’t even try to clean me a little?” Owen mumbled, his vision slowly clearing. His orange and cream scales were covered in a thin layer of purple dust, occasionally with patches of thicker grime.

Jerry snorted, jabbing the spade of his tail in the dirt. “This is after I cleaned you a little. But I wasn’t about to risk dunking you in water when I don’t like the stuff either.”

A rumble shook the cave and Jerry quieted down, glancing behind him. While the cave was abandoned, there was no telling if a wraith would find them in their sleep. It was a good thing Jerry had been awake to scare anything off.

Owen sighed, turning to get up. It was only then that he realized there was a wraith right next to him.

He screamed and sprang to his feet, ready to fight—but a wave of dizziness followed, and Jerry had to grab him under his arms.

“Calm down, calm down! It’s dead!” Jerry pointed at it. “Most of those things just dissolve away, but that one has some shape to it. Didn’t know what to really do with it, so I chucked it in the corner.”

“Next to me?! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Bah, get over it!” Jerry waved him off. “Besides, you should be thankful. That’s our meal.”

This did not help the situation. “What do you mean, our meal? I’m not eating that thing! It’s—is it even edible?”

“I dunno, but I haven’t eaten a thing here except for wood and red water, so if I’m gonna take my risk on some meat, I’m gonna do it. I told you before—my gut needs meat, not wood. And I’m pretty sure so do you.”

“Um—Charmander can handle a lot of things, and I think we can go vegetarian if we—”

“Kid, have you had a look at yourself lately?”

“I’m not a—what do you mean?” Owen followed Jerry’s claw, which was curled over so the curved top pressed gently on his chest. He blinked in surprise, realizing that there was barely a layer between his scales and his bones. Jerry ran it from the bottom of his chest up; his claw bumped against every rib.

Owen looked at his arms; the scales had a lot of extra skin to them, and he saw the bones of his wrist. The details along his hands where the soft, tiny scales followed the contour of his depleted muscles and joints. He turned his head and checked his shoulders, but all he saw was a faded scar where he had been attacked by the fanged wraith.

Oh, right—he hadn’t found a single Oran Berry since then. He had given them all to—

“Jerry, we need to keep going,” Owen urged. “Mom’s out there, and so are the others. We have to go and—you can fly, right?”

“Barely. I’m running on an empty stomach.” He pointed at the wraith. “We eating or not?”

“We can’t just find some berries or something?”

“No,” Jerry snapped. “First, like I said, berries for food just doesn’t cut it for me. And second, all the berries here are poisonous.”

Another cruel wind blew across the wastes outside. Some of the dust kicked up and flew into the cave, littering the ground and adding to its dry layer. Jerry used his wing to shield himself from a small cloud that blew into the cave, and then the wind settled. Through it all, Owen stood in complete stillness.

“Poisonous?” Owen repeated.

“Yeah. It happened in the south before annexation, actually. I don’t know the details, but berries in southern Dungeons—before Anam got in and did renewed blessings or whatever mumbo-jumbo he calls it… Sometimes the distortion corrupts the berries and other items inside. Oran Berries in particular were notorious for their false healing. We called them Oren Berries, because they looked just like ‘em, and you had to really inspect it to tell that it’s fake.”

“Poisonous…”

“Uh, yeah. So don’t eat them if you find any. Long time ago, I found out the hard way.”

A rumble followed, a bit louder this time, and that made Jerry look back nervously. “We should get deeper into the cave,” he muttered. “C’mon, Owen. Stay behind me so your flame doesn’t give us away. Sometimes those things bend down and stare inside, so we gotta keep to the dark. Don’t make any noise.”

Owen said something in reply, but he didn’t remember what he said the moment it left his mouth. Maybe just an affirmative, because Jerry kept going, prodding him to walk. Owen followed on reflex, but his eyes were empty and aimless, mind elsewhere.

“C’mon, kid, focus.”

The dead wraith remained where it was—it looked a bit more deflated than a few seconds ago.

Jerry draped a wing over Owen, hiding the Charmander completely from the mouth of the cave. His flame, dim as it was, gently lit up the inside of the Aerodactyl’s wings. He reached toward it out of sheer curiosity, but a shadow looming over the cave’s entrance made him freeze.

That was a big rumble. Was it the same one from before, or a different one? It seemed somehow bigger. And then came a deep groan, a grunt, and then air whistling through huge nostrils. Jerry had his head turned back, watching intently. His body was ready to bolt in any direction—even though they were completely trapped.

Owen heard a heart, but it wasn’t his own. He glanced at Jerry and saw his chest throbbing to each beat. Jerry’s expression wasn’t clear from Owen’s angle, but his jaw was clenched, ready for battle. There hadn’t been a shake for a while.

Jerry smelled a lot like the dust. But there was a bit more to him, too, that Owen couldn’t really describe. It was oddly comforting, though… If only because it was something different. He was tempted to lean closer, but didn’t want to distract Jerry or accidentally make a noise.

And then, the shadow left the cave, and the shaking ground indicated the titan was moving away. Jerry still didn’t move, each beat of his heart echoing in Owen’s ears—it made his own pulse quicken and deepen.

After what felt like forever, Jerry finally loosened up and took his wings off of Owen. “Didn’t even look into the cave,” he said. “Maybe they just aren’t interested, or they didn’t see it. Don’t care. Let’s eat and bail.”

Jerry made a few shaky steps to the fallen wraith and sat down, giving his legs a rest.

Owen wobbled to the wraith next, prodding at a deflated portion of its body. He felt something hard deeper inside, something that vaguely resembled bone. Aside from that, the skin was completely black and slimy, and whatever was inside…

“What, you want me to eat first?” Jerry said. “Quit poking it.”

“Sorry.”

Owen grasped at the edge of one and pulled, but it slipped out of his hands and left a black residue on his scales. He grimaced, not even wanting to taste it, and tried again, digging his claws into the slippery flesh. Claws punctured skin; sticky, black fluid oozed out of the hole like a molten chocolate cake, and even more gushed over the ground when he tore away. It didn’t make a sound, like ripping at gummy candy.

The scent was bitter, with a hint of blood. So it was blood. But it was black, like the innards of a Bluk Berry. Now he had a chunk, about the size of his fist, to work with. He nibbled on the edge; the slime outside didn’t have a taste, but the black blood was like iron and stale water. Still, it was water.

That was enough to convince Owen to go for a full bite. The texture—the tough, slick exterior was rubbery and chewy, and the inner flesh was chunky and watery at the same time. Bits of softer flesh bounced around on his tongue, surrounding tougher, springier pieces that reminded Owen that what he was eating wasn’t natural.

Jerry was having similar luck, but he was forcing it down in huge gulps, his expression barely changing with each bite.

“Food’s food,” he muttered, black drops pouring out from the sides of his mouth in streams. “Anything tastes good when you’re starving.”

Owen had to admit, as foul as it was, there was some small part of him that wanted to keep eating. But his mind kept wandering to other foods he could be eating instead, and then rapidly back to berries, and then to the fact that the berries here were poisoned.

“How did you find out they were poisoned?” Owen asked.

“What, this? I dunno if it’s poisoned. Guess we’re finding out. I’d rather die from that than starving to death.”

“No,” Owen said quickly. “Berries. How do you—”

“I said, they look different. It’s really subtle, but they do. And every one here looked the part. Sure, you might not’ve known since they were only really that way in the south for the longest time, but eh, once it happens the first time, you get more careful.”

Owen’s expression darkened again, not realizing that he had dropped his wraith slab. He clumsily picked out the stones and pebbles that had gotten stuck to it, then, in futility, brushed away the dust that mixed with the slime. He eventually gave up, setting it down.

“Hey, hey, no,” Jerry said. “Don’t waste food. Every bit of it.”

“But it’s dusty.”

“And it’s food. The dust is in the water, too, so it’s not like you’re getting anything weird out of it.”

“What?”

“The dust turns red when it’s wet. That’s what’s making the river its color, I bet. Now eat your food already.”

“But it’s…” Owen tried to protest, but Jerry’s glare gave him pause. “Okay.”

The chalky texture didn’t add much to the experience. With a few grunts and coughs, he finished the rest, the dark, inconsistent thing slowly making its way down his throat. It settled into his stomach like a rock. He somehow felt emptier than before.

“Once we’re done eating,” Jerry said, tearing off another huge chunk with his jaws alone, “we’ve gotta find out where to go next. Outta here. Away from those giant things, for one. Tried flying into the forest—got shot at.”

“Shot at?” Owen repeated. “By…”

“Those dark blasts. Flying above the trees’ll get you shot by those things. And last time I tried flying above the plateaus, I got spotted by a giant and it did the same thing to me. Even saw one try to jump at me. Those things can leap. Let’s hope we don’t meet a flying one.”

The Charmander tried to get rid of that aftertaste, which was arguably worse than the actual flesh, and coughed up dust that had collected in the corners of his throat.

“Use the blood to wash it off,” Jerry advised, pointing at a bit of the flesh that still oozed.

“I—I’ll be fine,” Owen said, but that just made Jerry scowl. “I know where I want to go next.”

“Oh?”

“Mom’s out there somewhere.” He pointed to the mouth of the cave. “I need to find her, and—and I know that I can sense where she is, and also where my crystal—” Owen gasped, searching the immediate area, and then stared at Jerry, horrified. “Did you bring my crystal?”

“What?”

“My—it was kinda shaped like two triangles stuck together, a diamond? And it was green—I mean, I had three, but my favorite one was green, and—and it was shiny, and it kinda glowed, too.”

“Alright. And?” Jerry tore off another piece—there wasn’t much left of the wraith by now, and Owen had only taken a few bites. He didn’t really want more, though. “What’s it matter?” Jerry asked.

“I—” Owen tried to answer, but realized he didn’t have one. It was pretty. That had been the main reason, but also, well, he had been drawn to them. They called him. Didn’t that mean something? “I found it because it felt like, I dunno, it was drawing me toward it. If I left it behind, I’d still feel the call from it.”

“You’d feel the call from it? Right. I didn’t feel any kind of call, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re nuts.”

“I’m not—I’m serious, maybe there’s something to it! Right? You don’t just feel that kind of thing for no reason, do you? It’s like Perceive, but not.”

“Sweet Mew, where’d your head go?” Jerry shoved a piece of wraith at Owen. “Eat so you stop talking like you’re a thread away from falling into the abyss.”

“I—I think I’m full,” Owen said.

Jerry snarled—the sudden hostility enough for Owen to flinch. The Aerodactyl waved a bit of the remaining wraith in front of him, flecks of black blood spattering randomly. “You don’t get it, do you? This is all the food we have, and there’s no telling if we’ll get more of it later. You got that? Eat now, eat until you’re at least a little full, because—”

“I am full, I—”

“Don’t lie to me. Eat your food, because if you waste away, I’m gonna force dust down your throat instead. Got it?” Jerry shoved the slab in Owen’s chest; he staggered back.

Owen stared at the rotten food, squeezing it between his claws. For a moment, he had a flash of anger—how could he eat something like this when he could barely hold it down?! He glared at Jerry, but he was already tearing at the last piece.

“I’m giving you,” Jerry said between bites, “every opportunity to not die. So if you do, that’s your fault.” He swallowed the final bit, then pointed at the piece in Owen’s hand. “Now choose. That’s either yours or mine.”

Owen let out a growl at the threat—yes, that was now a threat to Owen—and shuffled away, holding it to his chest. But he still wasn’t keen on eating it, even as the mess stuck to his cream-colored scales.

Jerry scowled again, looking down like he was dealing with some kind of feral. In a way, he was. “Make your decision. We can’t stay here for long, got it?”

It took a while longer of hesitating, but he finally shoved the rest of the ‘meat’ down, chewing a lot faster—not like it mattered, since most of it was soft and mushy to begin with—and gagged as it slid wetly to his stomach.

Two mouthfuls. He wouldn’t have been able to stand a third, even with how hungry he felt. Tree taffy was a thousand times better.

“Get on my back,” Jerry said. “We’re gonna fly. I guess we’ll go and find your stupid crystal again, but after that, what?”

Owen approached Jerry, hesitating on actually climbing up. Jerry growled impatiently, and that was enough for Owen to finally clamber on. “I want to find Mom. She’s got to be around here somewhere, and I’ll feel her.”

“Sure. Not like I have anything better to do.”

Once Owen was situated firmly on his back—despite his rapidly deteriorating grip strength—he beat his wings and took to the low skies.

<><><>​

Smallflame lay battered and bruised on the ground, flat on his belly. He groaned and stared at Bulbasaur, who was nursing a minor burn on his vine, and then glared at Smallflame. “I think I won this one,” he said to his trainer.

A few cheers followed from the humans, but they seemed solemn. Smallflame was in disbelief more than anything; what happened? Bulbasaur… always lost to Charmander. That was just the natural order of things. How could he lose? There was nothing special about him! Nothing except…

Bulbasaur happily pranced to his human and leapt into her arms with unseen strength. She giggled and swung him around in a gleeful spin, then set him down. “That was great. But, um… Did we do what you wanted?”

Smallflame slowly got up, keeping most of his weight on one foot. Marowak and Charizard were both watching in silence, and Smallflame couldn’t bear to look at them for very long. He lost to a Bulbasaur. That wasn’t… right.

“Do you see now, Smallflame?” Charizard said. “That is the power of a human.”

Smallflame didn’t respond; he only stared at the young trainer, then at the lab assistant, who was holding another, empty Poké Ball. She was waiting for him, occasionally rolling the hollow sphere in her hands. His flame shrank; he didn’t want to go. His mother would miss him, and the fields were warm, and there was no telling how stupid his human would be if he took the risk.

“Smallflame?” Charizard asked.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose like that again. And… Bulbasaur…

The trainer rummaged through her bag, finally pulling out Bulbasaur’s Poké Ball again. “Okay, now let’s start our adventure for real! We’ve done enough training.”

Bulbasaur grabbed the Poké Ball and hopped away, yelling a playful taunt.

“Aw, c’mon!” She ran after him and into the lab, laughing.

Only the lab assistant remained, holding the empty ball.

“…Smallflame…” Charizard frowned.

“I don’t want to go…”

“I won’t be going anywhere,” Charizard said, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

Marowak, while stoic thanks to the mask, also nodded and tapped his bone club on a rock. “You’ll always be in our thoughts, and I know that once you find your human, you’ll find your wings.”

The little Charmander looked at the burned ground. He was going to miss how it smelled. And how Charizard felt. And Marowak’s strength and presence. All of it. But…

“Hold on,” Smallflame finally said. He ran toward his parents, wrapping his arms as well as he could around Marowak. Then, he went to Charizard and blew a tiny Ember at her flame. Charizard responded in kind, blowing a little ember over Smallflame.

His legs felt like they were weighed down by boulders larger than he was. His claws wiggled uselessly against the dirt, and then, finally—with the strength he had left after the fight—he slowly walked toward the assistant.

“I’m proud of you, Charmander,” the human said. “Are you ready?”

Smallflame made one final glance at Charizard and Marowak. The latter held his bone club in a battle-ready stance, but his eyes held the light of a smile. Charizard unleashed a motivating Flamethrower in the air, warping the morning sky in waves of heat.

His flame brightened. He looked up at the ball, then at the human, and finally nodded.

The world melted into a haze.

<><><>​

Owen felt something, but he was too disoriented to realize what was happening. There was a firm pressure around his abdomen, and he couldn’t feel the ground. His arms and tail dangled in the air. And that air—it was rushing past him, leaving trails of embers from his tail behind.

“Ugh—what’s—”

The ground was far, far below him. Owen squeaked and stiffened, and then Jerry shouted over the rushing wind, “Keep calm or I’ll accidentally drop you!”

“Okay! Okay!” Owen nodded fervently, wincing when Jerry’s talons readjusted around him. After giving his heart some time to slow down, and after he got used to staring at the ground from so far away, he asked, “How long have we been flying?”

“What, like we can tell time in this place?” Jerry beat his wings again. “No idea. But I feel like I’m being followed, and I’m not gonna slow down until that prickle on my scales goes away.”

“Right…” He felt like he should have been more afraid of staring at the ground the way he was, but there was something nostalgic about it. It tugged at the bottom of his chest, and he wanted to take deep breaths of the air, even if there was a lingering stench of rotten dust.

He had done this before, though not in the talons of an Aerodactyl. No, his mother—his mother flew him around all the—Amber. Her name was Amber. That was her human-given name. It was so clear.

“Hey, um, Jerry?”

“What?”

“Do you know what humans are like?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure why he asked. Maybe it was the lack of food making him babble. Perhaps conserving his energy was best.

He tried to remember his father’s name next. Amber. Amber was his mother’s name. It was similar to the name he had. Owen, Amber. But his father’s name was different. He had been named by the facility. Daichi. That was his name. But he had only used it when answering the humans; he’d never cared for it otherwise.

Jerry made gentle banks over the ground, taking wide turns around the plateaus, but knew not to fly above them. He occasionally considered landing on top of them for a break, but didn’t know if he would be spotted by whatever had been following him.

“Pah,” Jerry suddenly said, waking Owen from a half-nap. “Thirsty. There’s a river ahead, no, a lake, I think. I’m gonna take a stop there.”

“Okay,” Owen said, though this had been their second stop for water already. First, Jerry lowered his altitude and kept an eye out for any of those titans; finding none, he lowered even more to the ground and warned Owen to get ready for a landing. The Charmander braced, and once the Aerodactyl let him go, he tumbled and rolled to break his fall.

It didn’t go well that time. With a surprised shout, he landed badly on his arm and rolled against a hidden rock in the dust, knocking the wind out of him. When he got his first breath, he instead took in a mouthful of dust and coughed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jerry said, slamming his wing on Owen’s back.

He sputtered again, but held up a hand. “It’s okay—get—water,” Owen nodded, wiping his tongue of dust since what little spit he had wasn’t enough.

That feeling was back. That itchy feeling inside his forehead. Was it Amia?! No—it felt different. Still familiar, but different. Someone was nearby. But out here? A quick scan on the barren, red lakeside revealed a great swath of nothing.

“No, someone’s definitely here,” Owen said. He paced forward at the same time that Jerry grunted in disapproval.

“Well, they’re probably drowning,” Jerry said. “C’mon, let’s just get a drink. Make sure it’s not some aquatic wraith.”

“Err, right.” Owen crawled toward the water’s edge and nervously eyed the murky water. Some small part of him said not to inch too close; he was small and weak, and some large predator could be lurking just at the water’s surface to take him under. He shuddered, legs and arms tensed. Flames bubbled in his throat, but he stemmed them so he could at least drink, foul as it was.

“Don’t worry,” Jerry said, startling Owen. “I just said don’t worry, c’mon. I’ve got my eyes on the water.”

“Thanks,” Owen said after some stumbling over his words.

The water didn’t have the best taste, but either his tongue was numb to it or he was just getting used to that foul stench. It coated his tongue and mixed with the dirt; he spat the first rounds out just so his first few gulps weren’t dusty. Then, he drank, carelessly at first, but then calmed down enough to drink with some semblance of dignity. He was in front of Jerry, after all.

Oh, Jerry saw all of that. Owen glanced shamefully at him, but the Aerodactyl furrowed his scaly brow in response. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing. I—sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for, uh, I don’t know.”

“Mew, you’re a mess.” Jerry’s wing made a motion for his forehead, but he stopped, training his eyes on the water again. “Just keep drinking and then keep an eye out when we’re through. I’m thirsty next.”

After Owen had his fill, they switched places, Owen trying his best to watch the water. Jerry dunked his lower jaw into the water and tilted his head back, red fluid trickling down his neck like blood from a kill. Owen’s mouth watered at the thought—tree taffy was not enough to keep him going, and he hadn’t even had any of that in a while. Was there anything he could eat?

The image of Amia’s stiff, tranquil body flashed through his mind and he took in a sharp breath.

It was enough for Jerry to hop away from the water. “What? What happened?”

“Nothing—sorry. Sorry.”

“Argh, don’t do that!”

Owen whimpered and nodded, refocusing on the water. Jerry snorted and took another mouthful.

But this time, Owen actually saw something in the water. It was faint and only at the surface, but it was the shadow of some small, aquatic creature, swimming tentatively toward them.

“Someone’s there,” Owen announced.

“Well, I’ll take care of it,” Jerry said, already preparing a Rock Blast.

“Wait!”

Jerry spat one of the stones on the ground nearby, clearing his throat. “Whaaat? What now?”

The fish had flinched deeper into the water. And when it did, Owen felt that the feeling of something calling him had gone further away. “That’s the thing I was feeling. The—it might be someone! You know, someone we knew? I—I felt Mom like that once, so maybe this… well, not her, b-but…”

Jerry, perhaps tired of his babbling, groaned and said, “Well, how are you gonna convince it to come closer?” He squinted at the water’s surface. “Doesn’t look all that big. I’ve seen bigger things in the water, but maybe they’re just too small to be interesting to those wraiths.”

Owen stepped toward the water’s edge, the damp ground curling uncomfortably around his toes. The red water was motionless, the last remnants of Jerry’s drinking far away from their spot. Owen had to pause to admire the dreary beauty of the still lakeside, disturbed only when another cruel wind stroked the water’s murky surface.

It was moving. It had to be aquatic. Not coming closer, but not leaving, either. Watching from afar? “Hello?” Owen finally called. “Who are you? It’s me, Owen, if… you know who I am.”

Jerry waited, tapping his foot impatiently. He was tapping loudly; Owen knew he was trying to make it known that he was wasting time.

“Hang on,” Owen said with a feral growl afterward. He crept closer to the water’s edge, looking for shadows. None. “Hello?” he called, just above the water’s surface, enough that it trembled beneath his chin.

Jerry took a breath, about to speak, but Owen shoved himself forward and into the water. Against his instincts, he bubbled out another “Hello?” Then, he waited. In the same breath, he added, “I’m Owen!” And then he pulled up for a breath.

“You’re probably the dumbest person I’ve met,” Jerry commented.

“Well, I didn’t sense anybody, so it was probably safe,” Owen said, though his creeping paranoia had him stepping away from the water’s edge afterward. Even if he could sense that there was someone out there like Amia, there was no telling if a wraith had been lurking at the water’s edge for someone just like him… Was he lucky just then? No—Jerry would have helped him if…

And finally, a shadow appeared at the water’s surface. Small, vaguely fish-like. Magikarp, perhaps? But the shape didn’t match exactly. A little closer, but then claws grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“You idiot, what if it’s a trap?” Jerry growled.

“That little thing?” Owen pointed at the shadow as it got closer.

“You never know with a place like—okay, never mind.”

Sunken eyes on an even uglier face stared at Owen, the Feebas taking a breath of air with an unpleasant, wheezy noise to speak above water. “Hello?”

Something nagged at the back of Owen, his instincts telling him he didn’t know this Pokémon. Then, some distant trivia he’d picked up long ago rose from the back of his mind. This ugly, aquatic Pokémon. Like Remoraid, or Magikarp, they evolved into something completely unlike their current form. Oh, that’s right, they evolved into—

Owen choked on his words, trying to say three things at once. He nearly lunged for the water, had it not been for Jerry clutching at his shoulder again. His flailing startled the Feebas, but Owen knew it would all be better once he shouted, “Zena!”

And her eyes widened in response. She dunked under the water, then rose back up, and Owen could only grin wider; it was her. And that probably meant the strange, tugging feeling he had whenever he wandered these lands corresponded to Mystic power after all. Amia, now Zena. He wasn’t sure what was so special about those crystals, though. Could it be related?

“Hey,” Jerry said, breaking the brief silence. “Looks like you’re in the same situation as Owen.”

“Owen?” Zena asked, blinking. Then, she looked at the Charmander. “You’re Owen?”

“Yeah! I know, it’s sort of awkward,” Owen admitted, laughing. “I think, uh, I don’t really know how to explain how it happened, but—”

“How did you know my name?”

Owen babbled uselessly again, starting with an explanation before transitioning into a question seconds later, but neither attempt at speaking was accomplished. Eventually, after several more attempts, he said, “What?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Zena said. “How did you… know me? You aren’t some kind of…”

“No! No, no,” Owen said frantically, waving his claws desperately. “Zena! Did you hit your head or something? It’s me! Owen! You know? We were courting!”

Zena frowned and hummed, diving under the water again for another breath. She rose back up. “Why would I court with a… Charmander? I don’t see how that would work out.”

“I—”

Jerry rubbed the back of his head, wincing. “Guess you just can’t catch a break,” he said. “Hey, Zena. What do you remember?”

“Remember? Well… I woke up here, but before that, I remember… Mm…” She looked pensive, then shook her body. “It’s all a fog there. Sorry.”

“Well, I’m part of the memories you lost,” Owen said, hoping this was just something temporary. Jerry turned his head back, likely to keep an eye on whether or not they were being followed.

“Hey, uh, Owen,” Jerry mumbled.

“Zena, can you survive out of water? As a Milotic you could, and—”

“As a Milotic? Are you… oh… oh, I do… but how could that be?”

“Owen,” Jerry said again, “look back.”

“Hang on,” Owen said. “Zena, please, you have to remember. We were fighting this thing—this, this shadow demon thing. He was possessing Anam, remember? Anam? A Goodra?”

“I think I do… It sounds familiar. Owen sounds familiar.”

Jerry forcibly wrapped his claws under Owen’s arms and spun him around. Owen struggled uselessly, but then caught sight of something black flying in the air. “Oh.”

“We gotta go,” Jerry said. “Grab Zena or don’t—we’re out!”

“Um—grab?” Zena said.

“Zena,” Owen said quickly, rushing toward the water’s edge. Despite the suddenness, she didn’t flinch away. “How long can you hold your breath in the air?”

“F-fairly long? Why do you—”

Owen grasped Zena by her belly with one hand, then the top by the other, before quickly realizing that she was practically the same size as him.

Zena flopped about, slapping her tail against his cheek, and said, “Excuse me! Explain why—oh, that?” One of her sunken eyes stared at the dark avian flying toward them, uncomfortably quickly at that. “Um—please hurry.”

“I’m trying,” Owen said, returning to grappling with Zena’s unwieldy form. This was somehow more difficult than if she’d been a Milotic. Then he could just—he wasn’t sure, perhaps wrap her around him like a rope? But this, it was just—a fish! How was he supposed to carry a fish the same size as him?

“C’mon, c’mon!” Jerry said, growling. “Just hug Zena tight, and I’m gonna swoop down and pick you both up! Got it?”

“Okay! Okay. Zena, are you fine with that?”

“Just hurry before we become food!” Zena flopped into Owen’s arms.

The Charmander struggled to keep steady, but eventually managed to wrap his arms around enough to get a firm hold under her fins. “Is this okay?”

“I think so.” She tried gasping for air, but it was foreign compared to working with her gills, and Owen could tell how labored it was.

“Are you sure you can stay out of the water?” Owen asked.

“Feebas are hardy.”

Wingbeats—two sets of them—accelerated Owen’s heart. One was softer, of Jerry swooping down; the other was from the great, black bird approaching them.

A second later, Jerry’s talons wrapped around Owen’s back and plucked him out of the water’s edge. Owen held onto Zena, the Feebas stiffening once she was far out of the air, a nervous whimper breaking through her wheezing gasps. Owen could only imagine the primal fear that came from being plucked out of the water by someone like Jerry.

“Gah! Why is he so fast?!” Jerry looked back, beating his wings harder. Jerry weaved to the left, then suddenly went to the right. “Owen! They still behind us?”

“Yes!” Owen said. “Stop moving like that! I c-can’t hold onto Zena like this!”

“Don’t let go!” Zena begged.

“He’s too fast! I—don’t have the energy to keep this up! We gotta find shelter!”

“But they already see us!” Owen shouted back up. “Wait, what if I—”

Fire bubbled in the back of his throat. He couldn’t do a Fire Trap in the ground, but what if…

His feet. He could still channel it through his feet, and then blast them that way! Owen focused—the warmth went from his chest, through his skin, along his legs, and to the bottoms of his feet. A dim glow emanated from them, then emitted a small ball of orange light. Owen focused, glaring at nothing, and the ball exploded.

The metal bird squawked and twirled right; the thing on the bird’s back—an icy Sandslash, it looked like—swore loudly, then yelled, “Stop, stop! What’re you doing?!”

This time, Owen heard it more clearly. “Wait—Jerry, they’re telling us to stop!”

“Oh, sure!” Jerry said, but then kept flying forward. “Whatever you just did, do it ag—”

Owen’s load suddenly felt a lot lighter. He looked down and realized that with all the strain, he’d dropped Zena. The air drowned out her screams, but not Owen’s. She flailed, flipping and spinning in the air; there was no water beneath them.

Jerry dove down in response to Owen’s screaming, but then had to pull up. The Charmander’s eyes bulged even more, completely focused on Zena and, without thinking much about the consequences, tried to tear himself away from Jerry’s hold. The talons dug into him harder, immediately stopping any future attempts.

“ZENA!” Owen cried.

The black bird—Corviknight, Owen finally realized—got to Zena first, following her falling speed. The Sandslash on his back grabbed her and held her down, and Jerry was flying further away.

“Forget it!” Jerry shouted. “We’re out!”

“NO!” Owen roared, flailing again. He channeled flames into his hands, the explosive energy building. “Take us back! Now! They have Zena!” Owen looked back again; Zena was still okay, but it was getting hard to see specifics. The Sandslash was inspecting her, and they were flying toward the river. “Jerry, take me back!”

“Or what?!” Jerry looked down, snarling, but his eyes flashed with incredulous worry when Owen showed the flaming sphere between his hands. “Are you nuts?!”

“Take us back!” The flame orb brightened.

A few more wingbeats followed, and then Jerry muttered something Owen could only guess was a southern slur. He banked to the left, turning back.

“If we die from this, I’m haunting you,” Jerry muttered.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work,” Owen admitted.

“What?”

“I’ll explain later.” He trained his eyes on Sandslash, Corviknight, and Zena. Sandslash hopped off of Corviknight and set Zena near the water, but said something to her. She glanced nervously at the pond while Sandslash pulled out an odd, rectangular tablet from the bag, poking at certain parts of the face of it.

Corviknight watched Owen and Jerry while Sandslash stared at the tablet, tapping on different parts. Little dots flashed on the face.

Jerry released Owen and, with a tumble and a grunt, the Charmander rolled to a stop near the lakeside. Zena flopped weakly near the water, and Sandslash finally said, “Alright, go in the lake. It’s safe.”

Zena didn’t have to be told twice, slapping the wet ground. With a splash, she sank into the red water, reemerging several seconds later with a relieved smile. “Thank you,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Scanning for Void Titans,” Sandslash said, a puff of frost clouding the air in front of him. “Name’s Hakk, by the way. Feathers over there is Xypher.”

The Corviknight chirped when his name was mentioned, then tilted his head at Owen. “Hello.”

“Hi—hi.”

“You’re tired.”

“Er—” Owen glanced at his tail on reflex, noticing its tiny ember. Wincing, he nodded. “I am. Sorry for… trying to blow you up.”

“Energy. Strong. Spirited. Strong, strong.”

Owen wasn’t sure how to reply, caught staring at Xypher long enough that he realized he was being rude. “Um—thank you.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thanks.” Owen wasn’t sure where to go after that, so he looked at Hakk, who put away the tablet. “So, Void Titans. Are those the giant wraith things?”

“Wraiths, right. So you’re definitely from Kilo, I take it.”

“Uh—” Suddenly realizing that Hakk was the first person he’d met who could probably answer this question, he quickly asked, “Where are we? What happened? Do you know?”

Hakk sighed, rubbing his forehead. Then, like a routine, he said, “You’re in the Voidlands. You died. You can’t go back. Come with me to Null Village or stay out here and pray to the god that can’t hear you. That clear it up?”

“N…”

A cruel wind gave the group a bath of purple dust. Owen winced, squeezing his eyes shut, and Zena sank deeper in the water until the dust settled. When he finally felt it was safe enough to breathe, Owen shouted, “NO! That doesn’t clear anything up!”

“Uh-huh.” Hakk walked to his bag and threw it over Xypher’s neck. “So, Null Village or nah?”

“There’s a whole village out in this middle-of-nowhere?” Jerry asked.

“Well, it’s still in the middle of nowhere, but at least it’s a village,” Hakk said. “So, coming?”

“Better than here. Got food?”

“You’ll have to work for it.”

Jerry shrugged and looked down at Owen. “No choice. Get the fish and we’ll head over.”

“Oh, right, her.” Hakk looked in his pouch, then pulled out a strange, grayish ring from the bag. With a few clicks, it widened in radius, thinning out until it became about twice the length of Zena. He pointed the face of the ring toward Zena and closed one eye, then nodded to himself. After placing the ring in the water, he pointed inside and said, “Swim here.”

“I’m sorry?” Zena said.

“Gonna help make travel a little easier on you. Some tech based on an Araquanid’s water bubble. Makes it a lot easier for aquatics to go on long trips in the air.”

After some hesitation, Zena broke the water’s surface inside the ring, and Hakk pressed a small button on the edge. With a click, the ring glowed, and a dome of water surrounded Zena; her eyes widened with wonder at the same time that Owen’s did.

“You, Aero. Strong enough to fly?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll carry Charmander.” Jerry nodded down to Owen, who needed a few seconds to register that, indeed, his first name was Charmander again.

Hakk pulled out a small, tough-looking rope—it didn’t look like it was made from fiber—and snapped it into the edge of another slot of the metal ring. Then, he tied the other side around Xypher’s neck. The Corviknight nodded.

“Right, we’re all set. Ready to go?”

“Um—excuse me, but is this safe?” Zena asked, poking her head out of the ring. “I’m worried I’ll fall.”

“Don’t worry. Once we get moving, the ring’s forcefield will solidify and you won’t be able to fall out unless you’re actually trying to break free. Oh, don’t do that, by the way. Tails and fins inside the sphere at all times. Including now.”

Zena shrank away, but Owen gave her an apologetic smile. When she didn’t return it, and instead stared at him with the same lack of recognition as before, Owen did his best to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Wait,” Owen added.

“What now?” Hakk said, already on Xypher’s back.

“There’s someone else lost out here. A Gardevoir—no, probably a Ralts now. Can we find her?”

“We don’t have the resources for scouting any longer,” Hakk said. “We need to return to Null Village, regroup, and then see what we can do.”

“But I—”

Hakk’s bag suddenly made a foreign, beeping noise that reminded Owen of something ADAM would have done. Xypher’s head twitched in its direction, then at Hakk, and the Corviknight let out a low caw.

“No buts,” Hakk said. “Titan’s nearby and coming closer. Might sense us. Time to go. You can tell us about Ralts on the way and we’ll figure out a rescue plan.”

Jerry helped Owen—in other words, picked up and tossed him—on his back. Xypher took to the skies first, lifting Zena in her aqua sphere suddenly, but securely. And then Jerry followed, with Owen looking back just in time to see a Void Titan crawling around a faraway plateau.

It roared, the sound turning Owen’s blood to ice, but they were faster. Soon, it was just a big, black dot in the wastes.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 88 – New Home, Old Friend​

At first, Jerry protested flying over the forest, claiming that the wraiths below would shoot at them. Xypher, undeterred, continued forward, and Hakk shrugged, nonchalant.

“It’s fine,” Hakk said. “Most of them can’t do much harm. The strong ones, we’ll avoid. We’ve got some Illusion fields just in case.”

“Illusion what?” Owen looked nervously downward. From above, the trees he had once explored for tree taffy and berry bunches looked more like mangled fingers clawing at the sky.

“Illusion field. It distorts outgoing light to disguise us. Same way Zoroark cast their illusions.” Hakk looked back at Owen. “Better than just bending light around us, or we’d be flying blind.”

“Zoroark…” Owen squinted. “Have you run into a Zoroark recently? Or Zorua. She might be scared or confused, but she’s another friend.”

“Nope. We’ll ask around our network and see if anybody else has info, though.” Hakk looked at his device again.

“Mm.” Owen’s claws dug into Jerry’s shoulder and the Aerodactyl jostled in response. “Oh—sorry.”

“What’s up with you?” Jerry growled. “No matter what these guys do to us, we’re better off than before. If they wanted us for food, we’d be dead already.”

“I—I wasn’t thinking about that at all!” Owen’s flame doubled in size. “I thought they were friends!”

“Well, aren’t you trusting,” Jerry grumbled. “Just leave the carefulness to me, then. We still don’t know what these guys want from us, and I doubt they’re going to be charitable when we arrive. Look at this place!” Jerry jerked his head vaguely upward. “You think they have resources to spare? Please. Best case scenario, we’re their servants.”

“S-servants?” Owen squeaked.

“Yep. But if we’re fed, it’ll be worth it. Better than dying. So look at it that way.”

“But what about Zena? She can’t…”

“They probably have something,” Jerry said. “And if they don’t, I dunno, at least we’re alive.”

“Um—excuse me!” Owen perked up, shouting toward Hakk.

“Eh?”

“Are we—”

Jerry dove down, making Owen scream, and then he lifted back up. “Ignore him,” Jerry said. “He’s impatient.”

“We’re almost there. And don’t fly down too low or you’ll leave the illusory field.” Hakk sighed and looked ahead again. “Okay, this is going to be a little tricky, so you’ll need to follow more closely. You see that stone spire ahead?”

Owen leaned to the left, around Jerry’s neck. Far ahead, looking like one of the trees, was a great cone tipped with a white, glowing point. It reminded Owen a lot of the central spire in Kilo Village where the Central Waypoint marked the center of the world map, or the Spire of Trials where Manny had once lived. The tip was probably as sharp as Owen’s claws.

“Yeah, what about it?” Jerry asked.

“When we start slowing down, stay behind us until the spire dims a little. Then, fly forward with us. When it gets brighter again, keep flying, but when it dims for a second time, slow down.”

“…What?”

“Just follow Xypher’s lead.”

“Forward,” Xypher said. “Slow, slow, fast, fast, slow…”

Soon, they slowed down. Zena anxiously swirled around in her aqua bubble, glancing up at Owen, and then at the spire ahead. It dimmed, so they moved forward. When it brightened, Jerry almost stopped, and Owen felt him lurch, so Owen mumbled that he had to keep going. Jerry grumbled something back, probably another curse, and then followed their lead. Once it dimmed again, they stopped.

“What’s this supposed to be? Some kind of signal that we aren’t hostile?” Jerry asked.

“Yep,” Hakk said.

“What, that communicator doesn’t do it for you?”

“A Void Shadow could’ve stolen it from us,” Hakk said.

“Void what?”

“Later. We’re clear for a landing.” Hakk put his tablet away into his bag and leaned forward. Xypher started to glide down, so Jerry followed.

“Seems like it would be pretty obvious if a Void whatever stole it from you. Sandslash and Corviknight. Not many pairs like those, right?”

“Some Void Shadows can mimic bodies the way you’d expect a Ditto to. And from far away, sometimes it’s hard to tell. Better to shoot them from far away if they try, since most of them are pretty stupid.”

“And if a clever one mimics you?” Jerry asked.

“That’s what the next test’s for. Get ready to land.”

The tops of the gnarled, black trees threatened to scrape Jerry and Xypher, but they found a clearing soon enough. Xypher landed on a fallen tree, which collapsed partway under his weight. Jerry landed on purple mud, grimacing.

“Ugh,” he grumbled. “Is everywhere this… what’s the word… vile?”

“Outside of town? Pretty much. That’s the Voidlands for you.” Hakk marched forward. “Stay close, stay behind, and stay quiet. Clear?” He picked up Zena’s bowl and started rolling her forward, the forcefield maintaining its shape tenuously.

Owen fidgeted and followed at a faster pace to make up for his leg span. “Um, what’s—”

“What’s the third thing I said?” Hakk said, glaring at Owen.

He squeaked and shrank back, playing with his claws. “Sorry…”

Jerry glared at Hakk, but said nothing. He gestured forward with a wing.

Satisfied, Hakk nodded back and said, “Follow any instructions you’re given. Play nice and this’ll be easy for everyone, including you three. We don’t like dealing with troublemakers. Any questions you guys have, we’ll answer once we have you inside and verify that everything is secure.”

Owen nodded vigorously, trying to shake off his nerves. Though he noticed that they weren’t moving forward. He wanted to ask, but then he remembered Hakk’s third command and shifted his weight instead.

Jerry tensed enough for Owen to notice his wings pinned to his side. Defensive stance, perhaps even noncombative at the same time. Owen felt a phantom sensation of his lack of wings doing the same.

“Identify yourselves, scouts.”

The voice was gruff and booming, sending another tight chill through Owen’s chest and into his throat.

“Sandslash Hakk, Class B,” Hakk replied, pulling out a white badge with a strange, star-shaped symbol with four large points and four small points between them.

“Corviknight Xypher, Class D,” Xypher cawed back, followed by a chirp. He produced another badge with the same symbol.

They were so bright; he only now realized that, aside from Hakk’s white-cyan appearance—which was stained reddish purple—those badges were the first pure white thing he’d seen in a while. The symbols were black, and something about them made his chest feel warm.

“And the other three?” the booming voice said. It sounded vaguely metallic.

“All rescues. Found them in a group. Yeah, I know, rare.” Hakk shrugged, motioning back. “Feebas, Aerodactyl, Charmander.”

Another pause. Shuffling. Owen’s scales tightened like feeble armor against his body, like a vestigial remnant from when his hide used to be stronger. They were surrounded.

“Alright, forward. Sandslash first with Feebas, then Charmander.”

Jerry tensed more, but continued to say nothing. He glanced down at Owen, who looked up uncertainly. They didn’t have a choice anymore, did they? Owen’s tail blazed; there was no point in trying to fight now, but if he needed to, they had to find some way to escape.

The caution in Jerry’s eyes suggested he agreed.

The source of the booming voice came from a Steelix, its shining, steel hide covered in flecks of the ground’s sticky mud. Huge eyes stared down at Owen and even more daunting jaws, frozen and expressionless, radiated a paralyzing aura. He could crush Owen with a tap. Wouldn’t even notice.

Owen stared straight forward, walking past his long, segmented body, the little, gleaming parts reflecting his tail flame, which was a lot smaller. His fire crackled now and then like a wet fire.

“Aerodactyl next,” Steelix said, and Owen wanted to collapse to his knees. But he didn’t and held strong, though he did ball his fists up.

Jerry approached just as slowly, occasionally giving a glance at Steelix, and then Xypher took up the rear.

The walk that followed was silent, save for Steelix’s grinding slither across the ground, light footsteps from the heavier Pokémon of the line, and the occasional swish or blub of Zena swimming in her bubble. Sometimes, a broken branch, a heavy misstep, or some other foreign noise gave away the fact that, indeed, they were still being watched by more than just Steelix.

“So,” Hakk said, glancing back. “Charmander. How long’ve you been out in the Nil Plateaus?”

That meant he was allowed to answer, right? “Not sure,” he replied. “I can’t tell time that easily here. No sun, or at least, I don’t think there is. But I’ve fallen asleep maybe… five, six times? I don’t know. Some of them might have been because I passed out…”

“Passed out?” Hakk asked.

“Mm.” Owen nodded. “I couldn’t get a lot of food, and there were these… giant things that I had to run away from, and the stress made me pass out sometimes, I think.”

“Those are called Void Titans,” Hakk said. “You were smart to run away from them.”

Owen nodded a little too enthusiastically.

“And you, Aerodactyl?”

“Same deal,” Jerry said shortly. “Less passing out, though. Wings help.”

Hakk continued walking. Occasionally Xypher babbled under his breath, but Owen couldn’t tell what he was saying—or if it was comprehensible at all. Whenever Hakk made a light snapping noise with his claws, however, Xypher quieted down.

“And you, Feebas?”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much,” Zena said. “It’s a little blurry. I remember there was a fight I was part of… As a Milotic, if you can believe it, and then… Well, and then things became dark… There was a horrible… presence…”

“Presence?” Hakk asked.

“I remember seeing it. When it was dark, I felt something, like it was… pulling me, but not. Like a current. I couldn’t get away at first, and then… I woke up.”

“Mm.” Hakk nodded. “Sounds pretty scary. Glad you’re still with us.”

Hakk knew more. Owen could tell. But he couldn’t speak up. He’d remember it for later.

They continued in silence until the icy Sandslash pointed a claw toward a bright spot ahead, like a small, starry sky in the forest. “There’s Null Village,” he said. “Just keep to this formation, alright?”

Null Village had no welcoming sign and no clear perimeter. It simply started as part of the forest, little black buildings made out of packed mud and reinforced with some other, even darker material that Owen didn’t recognize. No building was greater than two stories tall, and they looked to be very deliberately below the trees’ height.

Some had larger doors, likely for larger inhabitants, while others were nostalgically smaller, like the tiny home Willow had once occupied in Hot Spot. Owen always wondered what furniture she would have had. Probably mushrooms.

Despite the unceremonious beginning to the village, the internals were organized and grid-like. Streets were mercifully solid and packed down like stone. The claws of his feet tapped on it, and the sound reminded him of fine pottery.

Occasionally, they passed by lighter spots in the buildings that illuminated the whole street despite the dim lighting. The light source came from more diamonds embedded into the walls, just like the crystals that he’d found in—what did Hakk call it, Nil Plateaus?

But they didn’t have the same draw that those crystals gave him. Disappointing. Even more disappointing was they weren’t able to find the old crystals that he’d lost.

Most of the Pokémon in the village weren’t fully evolved, which was an odd sight. He was so used to everyone being fully evolved in Kilo Village, most of the kids inside or at school or playing elsewhere than the Hearts’ center of operations. They gave him curious, sometimes wary glances, particularly at Jerry. A Ponyta galloped away from the other end of the street when they’d seen him, while an accompanying Cranidos sighed and followed the Ponyta more leisurely.

“Alright,” Hakk said, snapping Owen out of his thoughts. He’d lost track of how many streets they’d turned and how many buildings they’d passed, but suddenly, they were in front of one of the larger buildings. At least sixty feet across. Even if Zena was fully evolved, they’d need at least three of her, end to end, to cross one side.

The Feebas flitted about in her bowl. Owen wanted to get closer, but Hakk’s words continued to echo in his mind.

They entered, and the inside was a lot brighter. The walls were painted a light brown in a design that was reminiscent of a Dungeon’s twisted wood-warping. He wasn’t sure why that would be a desirable look, though. It just meant danger.

A few beanbags lined the ground for sitting and resting. A desk sat at the back of the room, which had two passageways to the let and right, as well as a closed door in the back that didn’t have any lever to push open. How did they get through? It was just flat.

Sitting at the front of the desk was a Jynx, quietly looking at another one of those strange, rectangular tablets like it was a book. Her eyes scanned the rectangle in a slow and steady rhythm.

It just occurred to Owen that Steelix and the unseen others had stopped following them some time ago. It was just Hakk and Xypher again.

“We have three. Three, three,” Xypher called, chirped, and then preened.

“Three more?” Jynx said, bringing an incredulous hand to her forehead. “Sure, okay, fine, just… ahh…” She frowned at the three, but then motioned to their left. “Go ahead and set up rooms and we’ll have them evaluated. Welcome to Null Village.”

Hakk gestured for Owen and Jerry to follow. Down the hall to their left, several doors—each one without any sort of knob—were separated by several wingspans’ distance. The walls were a polished black, like obsidian. It glistened against Owen’s flame.

The distance between each door felt a lot longer than it should have. Owen lost count of the paces, and he wondered if there were hidden rooms between them to compensate for all the empty wall space.

Owen was about to ask a question, starting with an, “Um,” but then remembered he was probably not supposed to be talking. Instead, he tried to play it off as a cough.

“Alright, Owen. You first.” Hakk stopped at one of the rooms, only a few doorways down from the main lobby. There was a symbol above the obsidian door that didn’t match the others. While the ones behind Owen were red and square, this one was a green circle.

“In you go,” Hakk said, pressing a paw against the door. He held it there for a second, then pulled away, yet a glowing imprint of his paw remained.

Owen moved to get a closer look, his eyes reflecting the light. But before he could see how it worked, the pawprint disappeared and the door slid open—into the doorframe.

Owen let out a feral chirp in response, flinching.

“Wha? Where’d the door go?” Jerry said.

“Uh, it slid aside.” Hakk gestured for Owen to go in. “Go on. We’ll get to you later.”

The interior was a short hall into a large room. The walls were that same obsidian color again, and the floor that similar, pottery texture. A dull heat emanated from the inside that made his flame perk up eagerly.

Hakk didn’t seem as receptive. “C’mon, I hate Fire rooms.”

“Sorry.” Owen quickly shuffled inside, ducking his head.

A deep and unsettlingly familiar voice echoed across the hall. “Where is he?”

Jerry blinked, looking down the hall, then at Owen. “That your clone?” Jerry said. “Didn’t think Har was in that fight.”

“Har…” It was Har’s voice. Which meant it was his own voice. Which also meant it might be—

Eon, as a Charizard, flew across the halls, glancing left and right when he passed their corridor. He halted—overturning a nearby potted void plant with his gusts—and stared at Owen.

“You’re here,” Eon breathed.

Xypher squawked. “No interaction! No interaction!”

“But he’s—”

Xypher squawked even louder, fanning out his feathers.

“Back off,” Hakk said, growling. “If you know this guy, we’ll process it later. You just got cleared, so don’t make us revoke it.”

“But—”

Xypher screeched, making Jerry wince and shuffle to the left. Zena tried to get as low to the ground as possible while remaining in her bubble.

Eon didn’t move. Owen, by the doorway, didn’t either. Eventually, he realized Hakk was staring at him, and he backed away.

“Press the help button if you need something,” Hakk said, and then the door slid shut.

And suddenly, Owen was alone.

<><><>​

Several days ago, they had followed a burst of black lightning in some faraway forest. That, coupled with the vague sensation that something familiar was there, led Demitri and Mispy to travel across rough, desolate terrain, taking rest stops in little caves and valleys when they could. Over those three days, they had happened upon two wraiths. One dissolved into nothing the moment they were taken down; the other, Demitri couldn’t stomach.

Now, over yet another chilly, dusty, black mountain, toward the jagged, violet horizon, the mutant Meganium and Haxorus continued. Mispy’s vines crawled over the terrain easily, and Demitri, who felt lighter than ever, rested atop her back, occasionally wincing from hunger pangs. His claws’ grip strength was getting weaker and weaker. It would be time for another break soon.

“I’m sorry,” Demitri said.

“What?”

“I’m sorry… I think you can tell I’m…”

Mispy frowned, but said nothing. So even he recognized how weak he had become, to need a break just so he didn’t slip off. Maybe she could use a few more vines to hold him in place.

“I just can’t eat those things like you can,” Demitri said. “Not like it matters. We haven’t found another one like them in so long…”

That was true. Mispy wouldn’t mind eating something, but seeing Demitri like this was tearing her apart even more. She bit her lower lip, then eased her way over a particularly steep slope. Demitri was slipping, so she quickly wound a few extra vines around him. When she did, she lost her footing below and tilted left; Demitri yelped, and then a few of her vines lost their hold on him next.

“No!” Mispy shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the bitter wind. Demitri hit the sloped ground and tumbled several feet, coming to a rough stop when his tail’s axe cut into nearby stone.

Mispy carefully slid down the same slope and picked Demitri up. “Are you okay?” She channeled some healing energy into him, but that was starting to wear her down, too. But she kept going anyway until she felt there was nothing more to aid.

“I’m sorry,” Demitri repeated quietly. “Come—come on, let’s get going. I’ll… walk. I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t,” Mispy said, wrapping a few vines around him. “Come on.”

Demitri resisted halfheartedly, but Mispy could tell it was more out of shame than anything.

“I’m just so weak,” Demitri lamented. “How did it get like this…” He squeezed at his gut, where the scales had started to sag where a healthy layer of fat had once been. Now his form was unhealthily slender. Mispy wasn’t doing much better, but she had ample excess mass to draw from before she’d show any signs of starvation. She had always overeaten. That wouldn’t mean anything, now, though, especially for Demitri…

For some reason, she kept seeing Demitri cooking in her mind. All those times he’d experimented with all kinds of dishes when Rhys was out on longer missions. Served them to her; she’d never asked if he wanted some, either, or if he wanted more than those small portions that he’d eaten instead. He was so strong; surely, he’d need to eat more.

“Are you okay?” Demitri asked, and his claws to her cheek broke her from a trance.

Another gust blew dirt in their eyes; Demitri closed his left one and ducked down, like that would help, while Mispy brought a few vines over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her head against the base of his neck. “I… I always eat. And you… you always… you don’t eat enough…” The words came after long stutters, but Demitri waited patiently, because he always did. He was always so patient with her. She didn’t deserve it.

“Don’t talk like that,” Demitri said, rubbing the back of her beck. “Especially not now.”

Demitri climbed onto Mispy’s back with newfound strength, slowly creeping until he was resting on the back of her neck. Reluctantly, she wrapped her vines around him, securing his position. His Dragon body was warm. So warm. Even now. Perhaps it was his inner, blue fire.

“It’s going to be okay,” Demitri whispered. “I loved when you ate. And I’ll love it when we get to eat again. It’s gonna happen. We’re gonna have a huge feast together…” His voice was so soft that she had to strain to hear it over another indifferent gust.

“Promise me,” Mispy said, though she advanced forward again. “Don’t… die.”

Demitri leaned a little deeper. “If we find another wraith…” He nuzzled her, and that, somehow, relaxed her. “We’ll fuse, and maybe I can stomach it easier. I know it’s risky, but…”

That was all she needed. “Okay.”

With more valleys ahead, they continued along the slopes once more. They carefully traversed over jagged gaps and sudden dips, occasionally navigating horizontally until they found a more lenient drop. Demitri mumbled about a time when they had gone on an exploration in Void Forest, which felt vaguely like the dreary atmosphere they had been enjoying for the past few days. How scared he was about Ghosts, of all things. What he’d do to worry about those than wherever they were now.

Demitri had eventually fallen silent, and Mispy, worried, shook him gently. “I’m okay,” Demitri replied, squeezing her a little more. “Was just resting my voice.”

But she liked his voice. And it wasn’t like she could speak to fill the air that easily, either. Still, they continued, Mispy occasionally contemplating—if only to pass the time—whether her vines qualified as plant matter or flesh.

“I feel him,” Demitri suddenly mumbled.

“Huh?” Mispy looked back.

“He’s close…”

Mispy blinked, perplexed, and stopped. Was he losing it? His aura still felt fine; while he was weak, it was still stable. He wasn’t fading—she’d force him to eat if it came to that…

She closed her eyes and humored him anyway. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t with his—

A Flygon flew over a forest of black trees.

Mispy’s eyes shot open. How did she… know that?

“Who?” Mispy asked.

“Gahi.”

Then they felt the same thing. “Let’s go.”

Demitri held on a little tighter, and Mispy moved a little faster, following that strange feeling that guided them forward.

<><><>​

“You’re flying too high,” Trina criticized.

“Bah, they ain’t shot me yet,” Gahi dismissed. Still, he flew closer to the treetops.

Trina looked down, inspecting a wound along Gahi’s side. “And how have you been doing with…”

“What, it look bad again?”

“It might. Try not to strain yourself too much.”

“Bah, better ‘n yesterday.” Gahi snorted. “Stupid Druddigon… who would’ve though that we’d get some territorial feral here, too.”

“It’s too bad the Orans here aren’t blessed,” Trina added.

“Might be poisoned, too,” Gahi grumbled. “That one I ate messed me up good.”

“It might have been a cursed berry,” Trina said. “Those used to happen on occasion in southern towns, from what I heard. I don’t know if that’s the case anymore.”

“Cursed? Sounds kinda familiar, but I dunno. Either way, I ain’t gonna eat another one without taking a long, hard look at it…”

“Do you still feel anything guiding you?” Trina asked.

“Yep. Gettin’ real strong, too.”

“Hopefully whatever it is, it can give you a chance to rest.” Trina frowned, her tiny body feeling vulnerable against the rushing wind. “I don’t want you falling while I’m like this.”

“Bah! I ain’t gonna fall unless I get shot.”

Trina half-expected a blast of darkness to hit Gahi just then, but none came.

“You ain’t gettin’ hungry, are yeh?”

“Oh, no,” Trina lied. Then, she amended, “Not more than usual. The lack of sunlight isn’t agreeing with my leaves.”

“Maybe I’ll start lookin’ fer somethin’ later. Better berries. Maybe more wood if we gotta.”

They flew along in silence afterward, Trina occasionally taking a closer and more careful look at Gahi’s wounds. They were only open because he’d refused to sit still; had he spent longer asleep and not constantly wandering around restlessly, it would have been healed by now. But instead, the wound was reopening yet again.

Stubborn fool. Trina rolled her eyes and used her arms—it was so strange to have them so long again—to get a better hold around his neck. Her vines anchored her further.

And then, suddenly, she was glad she had held on so firmly. Gahi twirled and rolled in the air, and everything felt frigid. Frost covered her left hand and she tried to shake it off before it’d damage her flesh.

“Gahi!” she shouted over the wind.

“Found Owen,” Gahi spat.

“You what?” Trina tried to look past Gahi’s neck. She saw a great spire in the middle of the trees with a glowing tip. It radiated a fine mist and cyan energy—the telltale sign of the Ice element.

“Ice, why’s it always ice?” Gahi growled, shifting his angle in the air as the source of the blast rapidly drew near.

“You said you found Owen. Is he there?”

“Yep. Feel it fer sure.”

“You shouldn’t follow your instincts so blindly,” Trina chided.

“Bah! Save the lecture fer later.” Gahi twirled around another blast and sped forward. Trina braced, hearing a whistling in the air that came from Gahi’s wings. And then, the sound of metal wind chimes—that was odd. Gahi’s wings darkened with little bright dots, like a sky.

“Gahi?” Trina said.

But Gahi didn’t hear her over the whistling and the wind.

Suddenly, Gahi dipped under the trees and closed his wings. He landed on his feet, ran several paces, and then hopped in the air again, the updraft of his own power pushing him forward. Trina saw a few wraiths in the shadows, yet Gahi was too fast for them to so much as react in time.

And then, just ahead, a Steelix emerged from the trees to the right, though Trina had seen his massive, shiny form coming for a while.

“Ngh—!” Gahi abruptly slowed down, spreading his wings apart to further decelerate.

“Gahi?” Trina glanced at Steelix. He’d crush them if Gahi didn’t move…

“Barrier.” Gahi poited at the lightly reflective, transparent surface that blocked the entrance to the village. He glanced at Steelix. “Oy, you keeping Owen in there?”

Steelix glared, and Trina’s leafy scales tingled. They were surrounded. Did Gahi even know?

“Rushing toward a village like that…” Steelix glared down at Gahi. “What is your name?”

“Who wants ter know?”

“Gahi,” Trina hissed under her breath. “Excuse me! We’re looking for a friend of ours. His name is Owen, a Charizard. He may look different from a normal Charizard, though.”

Gahi grumbled, but said nothing in protest. Instead, he kept his guard up, ready to bolt at any sign of aggression. Trina decided not to comment that he had been the aggressor here.

“A Charizard named Owen,” Steelix said. “And your names?”

“I am Serperior Trina,” she said, paused, and then sighed. “…Snivy… Trina.”

Gahi narrowed his eyes, then said, “Flygon Gahi.”

“You’re an odd Flygon,” Steelix commented.

“What’s it ter—”

“He’s from the south,” Trina explained. “Pokémon have some regional variants there, and Flygon are a rare one.”

“Mm, I see. The south. Then you’re from…”

“From? I’m from Arachno Forest. Gahi comes from Hot Spot, an unknown location. But he is also of the Thousand Hearts.” By now, Trina had scaled Gahi’s neck and was sitting between his antennae. “Where are we now? We were attacked and eventually found ourselves here. I had entered a strange Dungeon as a Serperior, but once I exited, my form dissolved, and I woke up as a Snivy.”

“I see. And what about your family?” Steelix said.

“Okay, enough!” Gahi snarled, flaring his wings. “I don’t know what yer—get off me!” Gahi tried to grab for Trina, but she ducked and weaved away from his grip. Meanwhile, she wrapped her vines around his mouth.

She could tell he was tempted to bite on them, but while she had the opportunity, she whispered into Gahi’s earhole, “Do you want to see Owen?”

Gahi stopped his struggling and glared at Trina with one eye.

“Then you will cooperate with them.” She rose up and addressed Steelix. “My family is all long since deceased. I was adopted into a family of Spinarak and Ariados.”

“And I don’t got a family,” Gahi said.

“You don’t have one, or you don’t remember them?” Steelix said.

“He’s…” Trina wondered how to phrase it. She’d already said he was southern. “Orphaned. But my memory of his status is clear.”

Steelix looked to Trina, then at Gahi, who maintained his glare.

“No sudden movements,” Steelix commanded. “You will follow us inside. You can’t see Owen yet, but we can bring you to where he is being kept for evaluation.”

“Evaluation?” Trina said. “Is he hurt?”

“No. But he is a Charmander now, so a similar fate as you, Snivy.”

“So I don’t gotta go through that,” Gahi said.

“You do if you want to see Owen.”

Gahi growled again, but Trina tightened her vines. He relented and motioned toward the town. “Fine.”

Steelix paused, scanning them one last time. Trina wondered what would make a town so cautious as to have so many scouts in the area just for two visitors. Though, he did dodge those Ice blasts…

And finally, Steelix slithered into town, the barrier granting access without resistance. Gahi followed behind, and Trina briefly wondered if they’d be allowed to step out again.

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 89 – Your Name​

Nothing looked familiar to Owen. Thankfully, an adorably oversized information pamphlet—roughly half his height—did a good job at directing him to where to go and how to operate all of the strange devices given to him in this somewhat cramped living space.

The sliding door that had locked him inside this windowless room didn’t budge, and he had tried very hard. His tiny, scaly hands clattered against the solid surface while he listened to Eon muttering on the other side. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to him just yet… but he was at least glad he was alive.

With his back against the doorway, Owen looked over the brochure that was nearly half his height. While it wasn’t very colorful, it was very informational, and after spending so many days in the Nil Plateaus, having any sort of reading material was a mental breath of fresh air.

Some of the information was… basic, and he skimmed over most of it. He had no idea what sort of Pokémon needed to know what water could be used for beyond drinking. It was embarrassing; of course he’d use it to wash! Assuming they had Passho powder… There wasn’t any mention of that. Only that they had Passho berries in the ‘cold box,’ which they then titled a refrigerator.

He knew of these things. Nevren had invented them, though prototypes were already moving around in Kilo to replace manual Ice work. Controlled Hail Orbs. Basic, mechanical pumps. Perhaps it was a similar technology here?

Everything seemed so advanced. It was like he was staring into Kilo’s future, aside from the desolate wasteland everywhere.

Then again…

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Owen’s new battle was a struggle to open the fridge. It had some kind of seal on it because he had to pull very hard before the door finally gave way with a sucking noise. Cold air washed over his toes first, then his knees and lower body. Curious, he breathed into the white interior of the lit fridge, creating a foggy cloud.

There were a few Passho Berries indeed. No powder. He’d have to eat and then be—

Eat?

This was food.

The brochure had warned him not to eat it all, but he was so hungry… Maybe he could just have one, since he probably should wash up, and—

Knock went the door and Owen’s thoughts collapsed. Before he had the chance to answer, the door opened and revealed Corviknight Xypher and a woven, wooden basket in his beak.

He cawed and hopped inside; the door slid closed behind him.

“Um, hello,” Owen said, reflexively trying to sense what was inside the bag. Without Perceive, he saw nothing. “What’s that?”

“A gi—“ Upon opening his mouth, the bag fell to the floor, and Xypher cawed loudly and beat his wings before ducking down and muttering under his breath.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Owen said, raising his arms. “Didn’t sound too heavy.” And he didn’t want something that could step on him by accident getting upset. Cautiously, Owen approached and pulled the red cloth back, but he knew what it was before he even opened it.

Bread.

A simple, golden brown, tough loaf of bread, its shape long and rounded. Next to it was a slightly overturned, but not ruined, slab of butter. Tiny, but present, only really enough for a few slices at best, unless he really rationed them.

Owen thought his heart had stopped. Hesitant, he reached forward, “I-is th-that f-for… me?”

“Yes! Yes, yes.” Xypher nodded.

Before the phantasm disappeared before his eyes, Owen tugged the bag closer to him and dragged it to a small, raised portion of the dark ground that he recognized—based on the brochure—as a table. He placed the napkin on the table first, and then the bread, and the tiny ceramic plate of butter. There was a flat stick sitting at the bottom of the basket, and a palm-sized, flat clay container of some kind. Inside was an odd, red paste.

“We were told you enjoyed spicy,” Xypher said. “Spicy, spicy. Cheri jam. For the bread. Tasty. Tasty, tasty.”

It took every ounce of Owen’s willpower to eat it like a decent creature. First, he broke off a small slice. Then the stick. Butter first, this time. He breathed the tiniest ember over it. Sizzle. The aroma made him drool and he didn’t care.

His teeth sank in and the smell doubled, savory and dusty, yet in a good way. That bread scent was unmistakable, even here. The tiny amount of oil coated his tongue; at some point, Xypher had left for the washroom and returned with a cup of water, which he gently set down on the table. He cawed again, looking pleased.

Owen couldn’t see. He was smiling like an idiot and everything was blurry. Even still, he didn’t need sight or Perceive to keep eating, stopping only to take a drink of water.

“Not too fast,” Xypher said.

“M—mm,” Owen agreed. It would upset his empty stomach if he had too much, and despite his temptation to go for a second slice, he set it and the Cheri jam down. “Th-thank you,” he squeaked. “I’m sorry. Did you want some?”

“Oh, no. No, no.”

The hesitation came nonetheless, but he eventually resumed preparing his second slice, this time with slightly less primal enthusiasm. “And,” Owen asked before taking that tantalizing next bite, “how about the others? Jerry? Zena? They’re eating, too, right?”

“Yes. Yes, yes.”

“They’re doing okay?”

Xypher cawed in affirmative.

“Okay. That’s… that’s good.” Satisfied, he ate in silence, wondering why Xypher was still there. Perhaps to answer more questions? Xypher didn’t seem like the sort to be very good at… conversations. But the—oh the Cheri jam was—he had to stop eating to savor it. The spice tickled his tongue and reminded him that he was alive. Hopefully. It cleared his airway and warmed his throat. The crunch gave his teeth something to feel satisfaction over.

“You have a bright smile,” Xypher said.

Owen flinched, looking up at the huge Corviknight. His eyes gleamed with an odd, simple joy. “Oh,” Owen said, swallowing. “Um—thanks?”

“Yes. Don’t lose it.”

“Oh, I—I won’t.” And to prove a point, that smile returned. “Thank you again, I—whoever—whatever this building is for, thank you. I haven’t eaten something good since I came here.”

Xypher continued to stare, but he was attentive.

“Um, and how long do I have to be here?” Owen asked.

“A few days,” Xypher said. “You will be fine.”

“What for?” Owen tried to keep his voice as docile as possible. He was at their mercy, and they had been nothing but good to him so far. “Is it some kind of… security precaution?”

Xypher’s bright expression dimmed somewhat. “Mm… Yes. But I am… bad at explaining.”

“Oh.” So he knew. “It’s okay! I’ll just rest for now, if that’s what you need me to do. Just a few days, right? And your scouts are going to search for my Mom, right? The Ralts, she might be a Ralts now.”

“Yes. Yes, yes.”

That was the best he could ask for.

Before long, with the bliss of finally filling his stomach fading slowly, Owen pushed the plate of bread forward with restraint. “I’ll have more of it later. I don’t want to overwhelm my stomach.”

“Do you need help with anything else?”

“No, this helped me enough.” Owen searched for and then raised the brochure. “I was about to have a Passho and wash up. And then, er…” Everything was very bare, and he suddenly realized that the natural heat in the room might have been uncomfortable for Xypher.

“Oh! The—the heat isn’t bothering you, is it?”

“No. No, no.”

He was lying. “It’s okay,” Owen said. “Really, all the information I need is right here. I’ll figure out the rest of it later, y’know? I’m already in way better shape than you found me, and that’s good enough.”

Xypher seemed unsure, letting out a low, drawn-out caw of uncertainty.

“I know the room’s probably a little warm for you. Is there any way I can call for help if I need it? Then you can go.”

Xypher hopped toward one end of the wall and pointed with a talon. “Here,” he said. On the wall was a button that had a similar star-like design in the middle, black with white inside. “Press this, and then speak. Hello. Hello, hello.” Xypher poked the button at the same time.

“Hello? Xypher? Is Charmander doing okay?”

It was like a communicator! Owen’s eyes lit up, moving closer to the button and the strange, bumpy part of the wall just above it.

“Yes. Yes, yes. Showing the help button.”

“Um, hello, wall voice,” Owen greeted.

“…Hello. I’m not in the wall. Just security in the other room.”

Right. Communicator. “Er, sorry.”

Xypher released the button and nodded. “Do you know?”

“Yep! Thanks, Xypher.”

He cawed in approval and hopped to the entrance. He looked back once while Owen smiled. Owen’s little flame was brighter than it had been in days, and he hoped Xypher knew what that meant.

“Bright smile,” Xypher said again. And then, he left the room.

Shortly after Xypher left, Owen tried to place the bread, butter, and jam back in the basket for later, gently returning the red cloth over it so it looked more decorative. His stomach still felt empty, but he knew it was a bad idea to overstuff himself after going so long without food. Perhaps after his wash, he’d return to it.

The Passho Berry was bitter and dry, but it was still food. He already felt that cold sensation running through his body, and knew to take advantage of it while he could. After referring to the brochure again, he entered the washroom, which had tiny stairways for smaller Pokémon to operate the facilities, as well as several buttons at varying heights to accomplish the same task. A little crude, but universal. They probably had no idea what sort of Pokémon would inhabit these rooms.

These facilities were foreign yet familiar. In many ways, they reminded him of Kilo’s technology, yet several decades, or more, ahead. In other ways, it reminded him of something else in his past, which he concluded was either during his time with humans, or some other gap that he suspected was still missing.

He sighed. No use thinking about that now.

The walls were white and covered with red flecks of color like the tips of a campfire. The angular design of the red shapes reminded him of a Togepi’s shell. Passing a tall, tall sink, a few other facilities, and finally reaching the back of the room, Owen prodded at a small button next to a glass door. It slid open; he stepped inside to see a gated drain in the middle of anti-slip textured ground.

“…Fancy,” Owen had to say aloud, startling himself with how his high voice echoed in the room. Despite how supersized everything was, he had forgotten how tiny he sounded, too.

Two buttons. Red and blue, as well as a green one in the middle. The information he had read—which was thankfully element-proof—said green first, and then red for Fires.

Click, and then Owen waited. From above, a nozzle with countless tiny holes showered him in streams of water, and out of reflex, he gasped and pinned himself against the wall, his feral instincts crying, ‘Rain! Rain!’ before he came to his senses. Tentatively, he held his hand out, the water flowing between his scales. It was red by the time it dripped off him; he winced. Was that blood, or Void dust?

Suddenly feeling filthy, he reluctantly stepped under the gentle flow. Cold. He held the red button. Warm. Hot. Scalding. Not enough. There.

Owen sighed, steam clouding his vision and rain muffling his hearing. The Passho Berry wasn’t going to last too long, but he could afford to idle under the water. The steam cleared his head. For a few blissful moments, he didn’t think about the Guardians, or the Hunters, or Eon. Just the water, and before he knew it, he was thoughtless.

A sudden tapping startled him out of it.

“WAH!”

Gasping water-saturated air, Owen turned to the transparent shower door and saw the steam-obscured form of an icy Sandslash. Owen held his chest, panting, and approached the shower door. Running his hand over the glass, he saw Hakk standing with a container of something and a rough-looking cloth.

“You forgot these,” Hakk said. “Also, hi.”

Owen tapped a button to open the door, taking the bottle—smelled like soap—and cloth. “Um, thanks,” Owen said. “…I’m doing okay, by the way,” he added, closing the door again while he tried to comprehend the bottle, which was simply labeled, Scale Wash and Polish. Two in one? Impossible…

“Good to hear,” Hakk said. “Xypher mentioned you had a few questions.”

“Oh, right.” Owen glanced back at his tail; the flame ignored the water. As long as it didn’t start hurting, he could afford to enjoy the—why was the ground so red? Owen shuffled his feat, watching the red water flow into the drain. Grimacing, he glanced back at Hakk. “I had a few questions about… this place. And some of the things that happened while I was here.”

“I figure I’ll answer the ones we always get,” Hakk said. “First, you’re dead. I think I mentioned that before, but I want to reiterate, you’re definitely dead.”

Owen wanted to contest this, but he felt it would be a pointless battle. “Okay,” he said. “And why am I a Charmander?”

“Right.” Hakk sat down near the shower. Oh, so this was going to be a long talk, was it? Could he have at least waited until he was done washing? The water drowned out his voice…

Hakk continued, “Even though you’re dead, you can still die again here. Each time you do, all of your energy is drained away, and you’re reborn near where you had died before. Either from the ground, or in the water, somewhere, you’ll wind up. Sometimes you fall from the sky; better hope you don’t die again when that happens.”

“I—right.” He couldn’t contest that. He had found his old body. “Right. I found my old body back in these wastes. It was in a huge pot of… of stew!” Owen shuddered, not wanting to think further about it, but he knew he had to ask. “How did it wind up there?”

“Some tribe must have found your body and scavenged,” Hakk said. “If it was abandoned, probably means they had to run from a Titan. Still, I’m kind of surprised that you’re this lucid after what you went through. Feebas is still really out of it.”

“Zena?” Owen said. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she probably got killed somehow, too,” Hakk said. “Each time that happens, you come back a little less… you. Well, a lot of less.” Hakk looked off. “Me, I’m a class B. I died a long time ago, but I’ve been making a slow recovery since then. Used to be C, and that’s probably where Feebas is going to fall under.”

“…Xypher said he was D,” Owen said. “So, he died a lot?”

Hakk shook his head. “Doubt it. You can probably only afford to die once or twice at best before you’re totally gone. He forgot most of his past completely, and it’s not an easy climb getting it back. Xypher and I have been scouts for the better part of the last century or so, and he was barely able to talk back then.”

The water was starting to hurt, but he still had to get the scale wash on. He finally figured out how to work the cloth with the soap and started rubbing between his fingers, then his shiny head, and worked his way down. The water helped temper the grave news.

Owen tried to keep his voice even. “What makes that happen?”

Another shake and noncommittal shrug. “There are stories of people who see a red light when they die, and then some oppressive darkness, before they figure out how to fight back. That entity is something that’s got a name: Dark Matter.”

“Dark… Matter.” He didn’t recognize the title, but something about the description sent a cold chill down his spine.

“Seems to me that stronger spirits can break away sooner, but if you stay too long… Well. Eventually there’s nothing left of you except a blob of shadows.”

“A blob of—” Owen nearly dropped the cloth. His flame sparked. “The… the wraiths?”

“Yep.” Hakk’s eyes trailed to the geometric, colorful design on the walls. “Around here, we call them Void Shadows. Because that’s what they are, when you think about it. Empty shadows of what they used to be. So… don’t die. Don’t get reckless just because you’re immortal. Because ‘you’ aren’t.”

The coldness of the words overpowered the heat of the water. Owen took a steady breath and pressed the green button again, the rain from above slowing to a steady trickle. He felt a dull pain; he had been in the shower for too long.

“What’s with putting water in a Fire room?” Owen asked.

“Dirt baths tracked filth everywhere, and the dust doesn’t wash away to flame baths,” Hakk said. “We threw Passho Berries at it and called it a day.” He tossed Owen a soft, white cloth to dry off.

Owen was thankful to see that the cloth remained white when he was done drying; grudgingly, he had to admit that water was effective at washing away dust.

“Thank you,” Owen said again, looking down. “So, what do I have to do to pay you guys all back?”

Hakk smirked, rolling his eyes. “Well, right to the point, are you?”

“Yeah, well…” Owen couldn’t maintain eye contact. “I don’t know. Sorry I phrased it that way.”

“Nah, y’know, I can respect that. It’s practical. Kinda weird coming from you, though. I barely know you and you seem like the type to just give out generosities without thinking about it.”

The Charmander quickly returned to drying off. “Isn’t this place uncomfortable for you?” he asked Hakk.

“Downed an Occa before I came in,” the Ice-Steel Pokémon replied. “Anyway, here’s the deal. We keep newcomers cozy while we evaluate their mental stability. After that, we work on integrations, and that’s your repayment. Give back to the village that saved your hide.”

“Oh. That’s it?”

“Yep. Fair’s fair.”

It sounded too fair. “And what else do I have to do?” His flame crackled, and he wished it hadn’t. Charmander were too expressive.

And Hakk seemed to notice. “What’s that mean? What else? Figure that covers all of it.”

“Do I have to fight for anyone?”

“I dunno, maybe if a huge attack comes in, but at that point it’s in your best interest anyway.” Hakk shrugged. “If you aren’t one for the front lines, you can find a safer job. Maybe a berry farmer.”

Only the residual drip, drip, drip of the showerhead punctuated the silence.

“Y’know, probably not a good idea to snarl at the hand that feeds you,” Hakk cautioned.

Was he snarling? He couldn’t tell anymore. His flame was at least three times its size before bread, though, but that might have been because he finally had food in his gut. He tried to calm it. Deep breath. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold, but softer. Out.

“Sorry,” Owen said, and he realized he’d been saying that a lot. Submissive as always. Squeezing his fist, in an act of defiance, he said, “I’ve just had a long string of being led by others acting nice just to use me.” But he didn’t have the courage to look Hakk in the eyes.

“Tch.” Hakk shrugged. “Take it or leave. Not my problem.” He turned around, waving noncommittally. “Just don’t cry when you’re becoming a Void Shadow.”

Hakk’s steps echoed, the door outside opened, and Owen briefly felt the impulse to chase him and slip out and escape. But his feet felt glued to the ground, and he wouldn’t have been fast enough anyway.

By the time the thought was only half-developed, the door shut, and Owen was alone again.

After walking out of the washroom and past the sterilized, hard walls—which suddenly reminded him of Quartz HQ despite the opposite colors—he approached the bread basket and quietly ate another few slices. Despite everything, they were still delicious, and he was certain to finish the bread when he woke up again. But now, it was time to sleep.

Once again, the information he was provided helped guide him. Against one of the walls was another little button, this one a gentle orange, a little lighter than his scales. A press, and part of the wall depressed and slid away, revealing a closet with two items. First, a fire-designed blanket that smelled vaguely of Rawst leaves, like the plant had been pressed into fabric. Nostalgic. And finally, a curious, white bag stuffed with something soft and fluffy. It resembled a nest.

Owen hopped into the closet and looked around. It was a little cramped; he could only take three paces inside before touching the wall. There were shelves high and well beyond his reach, but it didn’t look like anything was there. Pressing a button from inside, the closet door slid shut, and the only light source was his flame.

Tentatively, he dragged the oversized blanket onto the nest-shaped bag and curled it over him. The fabric brushed gently against his body and curled around his underbelly. He took in a small, surprised breath; something this soft was unimaginable after the nights he’d spent on dusty, hard dirt. But then, he sank into the bed, like a tiny Oran nestled in custard. The soft nest caressed his back and underbelly at once; his cheek enjoyed the warm, fuzzy kiss of the bed.

Blurry thoughts melted into cozy darkness.

<><><> ​

Muffled sounds surrounded Charmander. The shuffling of fabric against the ball that had become his new abode. The gentle clicking of the feet-coverings the humans wore on hard ground. Charmander knew this place; he had been here once, when he’d gotten sick. Charizard hadn’t known what to do, and Marowak had gone to seek the help of the humans, despite how much he didn’t care for them. That was when Charmander had thought it was serious.

Those old memories made him anxious, but it was strange to not feel the usual feelings that came with it. He had no heart to beat; he had no mouth to breathe with. So instead, he stewed in this semi-state of being, wondering exactly what sort of human was going to become his partner. And, more importantly, if he would be worth following on his adventure.

If he was weak, Charmander planned to leave his new partner at night, just like what happened to Thinclaw and his useless partner.

Even more shuffling and chattering followed, and Charmander didn’t care about much of it. He wiggled impatiently within the ball, but then suddenly he felt like he was falling.

“Whoops!”

Caught in the giant hands of the assistant.

“Sorry about that, little guy. Careful, you’re on a table!”

He could wiggle if he wanted! Charmander giggled again, and again, violently this time, because he wasn’t going to be told what to do. The human sighed, but he had a vague sense that she was smiling, too. He was placed on the table again.

“Look this way, Charmander. Can you see?”

He could, he thought. She was pointing somewhere, toward the entryway. He never walked out of there. He didn’t know what it was like beyond those doors, where the human buildings were. But at the entryway was also a boy.

Short. Young. Thin. His skin was pale and his eyes were strange. He must have been a human from a different region. Charizard told him that humans were different depending on where they were from, just like Pokémon. But humans looked the same, so he had to study how they were supposed to tell each other apart.

Hair. His hair was brown. Brown was okay. It was short. Didn’t go past his ears. His eyes were brown, too. But he liked how this human appeared, too. The human had wings, Charizard wings.

Humans could have wings? That was strange.

“Are you Timothy?” asked the assistant.

“Yup!”

Oh, Charmander didn’t like his voice. Shrill. He probably screamed when he lost, like all those Bulbasaur that picked fights.

The assistant giggled. “Based on that costume, I think I know what Pokémon you’re going to choose.”

Costume? Humans had more than their usual coverings? Humans never made sense.

“Well, you’ll have to appeal to Charmander first,” the assistant said, and then looked at Charmander. “Are you ready to come out?”

Not really, but he had a feeling Charizard would be disappointed if he didn’t. And he could only imagine the disappointed stare from Marowak…

He wiggled in reply.

“All right. Here we go!”

Picked up and tossed, Charmander reflexively jerked forward, his vision suddenly flooded with light. Materializing on the ground, taking his first breath, he shook off what felt like a hot wetness from the energy that had surrounded him, and then he looked up at the boy.

A lot bigger up close. But still short.

“Hey!” Timothy said, crouching down. “My name’s—”

Charmander spat a puff of fire in his face. He spoke too loudly and suddenly and closely. He wasn’t anything like the assistants and that meant he’d be a bad partner.

But the human, startled at first, grinned even wider. “Already looking for a fight, huh?”

The assistants laughed. “Ohh, look at him. He’s a little defiant, you know. Are you sure you want to have him for your first Pokémon?”

“I’m sure!” Timothy said, and Charmander couldn’t understand his enthusiasm.

“What?” Charmander asked. “No! You’re supposed to run away! I burned you!”

“Aw, it’s alright,” Timothy said, rubbing his thumb on his nose. “I wouldn’t want to get a Fire-type if I couldn’t handle the heat!”

Charmander flinched. Did the human understand him? Humans didn’t understand Pokémon, not unless they’d been with them for a very long time, like the human with the flame-proof coverings that always visited, or Charizard’s old partner. Through feelings. And this human shouldn’t know his feelings.

“You aren’t allowed to understand me yet!” Charmander said, pointing angrily at him.

“What’s wrong?” Timothy asked, crouching down again.

“You—” Charmander tried to find the words, but the concepts eluded him. In Timothy’s eyes, he saw the reflection of the flames that were leaking from the sides of his mouth.

“It’s okay. We’re gonna go on an adventure, right? We’ll learn about the world and get stronger, together. It’ll be fun!”

Charmander’s flame hummed loudly behind him, but that was the only other sound in the lab. How did Charizard start off with her partner? Was it the same? So many of his siblings had gone away and returned with wings, or at least returned with a smile. A few were unhappy. But this… human Timothy. Which result would he be?

“So what do you say?” Timothy asked. “My name’s Timothy.”

He stared suspiciously, then spat an ember that evaporated in front of Timothy’s face. He only blinked. Impressive. “Smallflame,” Charmander replied.

“It’s good to meet you, too,” Timothy replied. “Sorry I can’t pronounce how you might want to be called, Charmander. But I’m gonna give you a name I can use instead. Is that alright?”

A name. The title that Charizard refused to let anybody else use. And he was going to receive one from this inexperienced boy?

Well, if he wound up hating him, he could always get a new one.

“Okay,” Charmander agreed, nodding.

“Well, you and I are going to go on our first adventures, together, right? And we’re gonna become the number one duo in the whole world!”

It sounded like he had practiced this. But he had to admit—it sounded enticing. The strongest? Did he really know how to do that? If that Bulbasaur could beat him with just the help of a human… who knows what he could do?

He realized too late that his flame was blazing with excitement. Trying to hide it, he shifted his weight and stared up at Timothy with more awed hope than he’d ever admit.

“Heh, looks like you’re already looking for a fight,” Timothy said, grinning. “Number one! I’m gonna call you… Owen!”

<><><>​

It was so soft! Owen opened one eye to the dim glow of his flame glistening against the polished walls of the closet. It was a cramped bedroom, but that was really all he needed. After all, he didn’t have to toss and turn at all in a bed he could practically sink into. He didn’t want to move; he only curled his tail around a clump of the nest and stretched inwardly.

What did he dream about? The humans again. He’d been getting those a lot lately. Timothy was…

So warm. Maybe if he slept a little longer…

<><><>​

Owen had never seen trees so tall and green. He wondered how they burned. But Timothy said that wasn’t a good thing to do, so he had to keep to himself. Keeping his tail high, he glanced up at his human partner, who was panting while going down the forest path. He didn’t know where they were going or why, but Timothy had what he called a “map.” If that flat piece of paper could show Tim the way, then maybe he had some other magic that he didn’t know about.

But the human roads with the shorter grass were long behind them. Instead, Tim was wandering the woods nearby.

“Okay, Owen,” Tim said, looking down. “I need you to translate for me, alright? Some Pokémon can’t understand me as easily.”

“Translate?” Owen asked, frowning. “For what?”

“Just repeat what I’m saying, but, like, to them. With the grr grr words you use.”

Owen growled. “What do you—”

“Yeah, like that!”

The growl became a snarl. “You could at least TRY to understand me!”

“I—I’m sorry, that’s just what it sounds like to me!” Tim brought his palms forward. “I’m not some master trainer. I’m working on it…”

“Better learn fast.” Owen huffed, already missing the lab assistants. Then again, their ability to understand him had been hit or miss, too…

Tim cleared his throat. “Hello, um, wild Pokémon!”

The hopeful look that Tim gave Owen was enough for him to reluctantly comply… slightly. “Sorry to bother you!” Owen translated.

“I’m going on an adventure! And I was wondering if anybody here wanted to come with me!”

“Ignore us! He’s an idiot!”

“Thanks, buddy,” Tim said, grinning. “Okay, now try this.” Turning his attention back to the trees, he shouted, “I’ve got food, and shelter, and you’ll get to become stronger with me!”

“Seriously, just leave him alone and he’ll leave you alone!”

Silence filled the air afterward. It wasn’t a windy day, and the sun poked glittering holes through the treetops with what few gusts there were.

“Are you sure you translated me?” Tim asked. “It felt kind of different…”

Owen shrugged. “Maybe they aren’t intereste—”

Just then, a Pidgey fluttered out of the trees, sizing Tim up from the air. Eventually, he landed on the ground, and Owen’s tiny shoulders sagged. He perked up when Tim looked at him again, but his flame was dim. Poor fool.

“An idiot human?” Pidgey asked. “Then why’re you with him?”

“Well, I still have to get stronger,” Owen said.

“Hmm…” Pidgey chirped contemplatively, then looked at Tim, and then back at Owen.

“So, what’s your name?” Owen said routinely, wondering if this Pidgey was really considering joining…

“Greatwing.”

Owen stared suspiciously. “Doesn’t seem that great to me.”

Greatwing chirped dismissively. “What’s yours?”

“Smallflame.”

“Yours fits.”

Owen crouched down and snarled, fire defying his name.

A loud tapping noise echoed from the tree to his left.

<><><> ​

Light flooded through Owen’s thin, scaly eyelids. An incessant tapping echoed from the wall. He squinted uncomfortably and groaned, sinking deeper into the soft bed.

“There you are,” Hakk said, sighing. “Why didn’t you take your bed out to the main room?”

Owen groaned and tried to curl up around the soft cushions, squeezing them between his arms and thighs.

“It’s already one in the afternoon,” Hakk growled again.

“It’s what in the—” Owen half-groaned, but then stopped. He didn’t have the energy to shoot up, but he had enough to open one eye partway. “You guys use hours?”

“Oh, right. Some of you guys don’t—wait, you know hours?”

“Yeah. Can I sleep for another?”

“1 PM, little guy. C’mon, get up. I need to run an eval on you.”

“What kind of eval?”

“On anything you remember. See what class you are, log stuff like that down, I dunno.”

Owen groaned again, this time a little more loudly so Hakk was sure that forcing him awake after at least a week of almost dying was unjustified. But the icy Sandslash refused to listen, and instead added, “And if you take too long, I’ll freeze your bed.”

“Then maybe I’ll burn you,” Owen threatened emptily.

“Joke’s on you, I ate another Occa.”

A snap of cold bit Owen’s nose and he whined, finally sighing and rolling out of bed with a defeated flop.

“So, tell me about your parents,” Hakk said. “Do you remember them?”

“Which ones?” Owen said.

“Uh.” Hakk’s eyelids lowered, frowning. “You only have two parents.”

“Nope. I was adopted.”

Hakk rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that. Who are your current parents?”

Owen glared, but it didn’t last. He sighed and went on, “Gardevoir Amia and Magmortar. Well, I mean, not really a M—”

“That’s one interesting pair,” Hakk said.

Owen huffed, deciding it wasn’t worth going over more. “And I ran into Mom in Nil Plateaus, so she’s still there. Are you preparing those scouts?”

“They’re gonna go out today to search for her. High priority, mostly because, you know, she might be able to sense Z-Crystals like you can.”

So that’s what they were called. Owen nodded and said, “Right, she might. I think the powers I had in Kilo were related to those. That might be why we can sense them.”

“Right,” Hakk said, but Owen could tell he wasn’t interested. “So, you were adopted. Do you remember your real parents?”

That one made his tail spark. “They’re both my real parents.”

Hakk sighed tiredly, rolling his eyes. “Your… other parents?”

Owen sat in front of the table and inspected his bread. Still a few slices left, so he prepared some for himself and offered Hakk a slice as well. After Hakk declined with a casual wave, Owen said, “Charizard Amber and Marowak Daichi.”

“Well, at least you remember both sets despite getting killed,” Hakk said. “That’s really lucky of you.”

At least I got to have some luck, Owen thought bitterly. “Yeah. Actually, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you about Daichi and Amber if you asked me a few days ago.”

“Eh? Why’s that? Kept it a secret from you?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” Owen said. “I don’t think so. I’ve just been getting those memories back.”

Owen nibbled on the slice. The bread had gotten hard since the night before, but it was still delicious, and now that he wasn’t quite as savagely hungry, he took the time to coat the slice in butter and jam at once. He took another bite, savoring the crunch now that he was used to it, but then realized Hakk hadn’t said anything in a while.

The Sandslash was staring at him so intensely that Owen stopped eating. After swallowing, he nervously asked, “What?”

“You’re getting memories back?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s actually been happening a lot lately,” Owen said. “Ever since I got in some, uh, a lot of stuff in Kilo. Been happening a lot more now that I’m here, though.”

“Right.” Hakk’s composure returned almost as quickly as it had left. “You’re getting memories back, okay. You’re saying you have more memories now than when you’d arrived?”

Owen nodded.

“Got it.” Hakk crossed his arms, then clicked his two claws together. “You know that’s impossible, right?”

“Uh.” Considering it was literally happening to him overnight… “No.”

“When was the last time you got those memories back?”

“When did you wake me?”

“Don’t get sassy with me, when did you get them?”

“When you woke me. I’ve been getting them as dreams. Sometimes when I meditate, too, I guess? I bet if I tried, I could.”

“And how do you know they aren’t false memories, or just… I don’t know, tricks your head is trying to do to fill in gaps of what’s missing?”

Owen frowned, humming. “It’s been happening without anyone interfering with me. I think… I think I know what returned memories feel like at this point. I’ve had a lot of seals, and these are too real.”

“Hmm…” Now, Hakk seemed troubled, which was odd, because until recently, Owen had been sure Hakk didn’t care about anything. “Okay. Guess that’s it for the eval.”

“What—just like that? You didn’t have more questions for me?”

“Well, my part of the eval.” Hakk started for the door. “Just sit tight, okay?”

Owen’s chest felt tighter, and he was tempted to run out with him, but he knew that’d get him nowhere. He had to cooperate until he could get Zena and Jerry out safely, too.

While watching Hakk, Owen tried to relax and tell himself things were fine. Even though he had no idea where everyone else was. But it felt like a few of them were close… But then again, that was probably just Zena.

Why did it feel like there were two nearby, then?

“ . . . door!” called a feminine voice—Owen recognized it as the Jynx from last night.

Right when Hakk stepped out, he suddenly slammed his paw on the wall, sealing Owen’s room. Owen sprang to his feet, leaving behind his bread. By the time he was at the door, loud thudding punctuated the air and the ground shook lightly beneath his feet. An odd, yet familiar whistling accompanied the chaos, but only for brief spurts. Was that—

“OWEN!” Gahi’s muffled voice forced its way through the door.

“Gahi,” Owen whispered, but then came to his senses. “GAHI!”

More scuffling, and then Hakk grunted. Some heavy piece of pottery broke, and then ice shattered on the walls. Gahi roared, and then another thud followed—this time against Owen’s door. Owen gulped and stood a little closer. “Gahi, what’s—”

“Get away from there!” Hakk shouted.

“Make me!” Gahi shouted back, and then he clawed at the doorframe. Not a scratch, but Owen heard every hard slam.

“Get over here you—where’d he go?!”

“Hah!”

“Hrk—”

Someone crumpled next to Owen’s doorway and he held his breath. “Gahi?”

“How d’you open this thing?” Gahi shouted.

“Gahi? What did you do?!”

“Stay away from there!” Jynx shouted. An Ice Beam cracked the air, but then the ground rumbled. Jynx shrieked, and then it was quiet again.

“Gahi, stop!” Owen screamed. “They’re friendly!”

“—Eh?”

“Stop right there!”

“Don’t move!”

“Try anything and you’re a popsicle!”

“Gahi,” Owen quickly said, “just say it was a misunderstanding! Okay?”

“Gahi!” This time, it was a tiny voice that Owen couldn’t help but feel was familiar. Who was that? “You… buffoon! Stand down! Do you want to get us all killed?!”

“…Did Trina die?” Owen asked.

“Eh? No, she just became a Snivy,” Gahi said as shuffling sounds grew closer.

“Okay, star-wings,” said one of the scouts. “Don’t fight back. Got it?”

“E-excuse me!” Owen called, pressing his hands hard against the door. “It’s okay! This is my friend, Gahi! He’s weirdly colored because he’s just like me! I can sense him!”

“Hey, lemme go,” Gahi snarled, and then a flurry of voices shouted for Gahi to stand down.

Owen, no matter what he said, was drowned out by them until they all yelled in surprise.

“I said let go!” Gahi snapped, but his voice was coming from the far end of the hall.

“How did he do that?” Hakk wheezed, his voice nearest to Owen.

“I think he has the Psychic Orb, or at least its power,” Owen said to Hakk.

“Psychic what?” Hakk said. “What kind of crazy company do you keep?”

Owen wasn’t sure if he had the time to thoroughly answer that one. Instead, he said, “You know how I can sense those crystals? Gahi probably can, too. That’s how he got here so quickly. He—”

One of the guards tried something, because there was another scuffle, and suddenly more groans overtook the fighting.

“Gahi, enough!” Trina commanded.

“Nu-uh, you ain’t blamin’ that one on me, they started it!”

“Gahi,” Trina said again, “having your foot on their back is not helping.”

“Seriously, Gahi?” Owen groaned, shoulders slumping. He bumped his head against the door, screwing his eyes shut. “Have some tact, at least…”

“Bah, they asked fer it.”

Just hearing the fighting was annoying Owen, but he doubted they were going to open the door and let Gahi in. They probably didn’t expect a Flygon to be able to teleport, but they wouldn’t be fooled a second time.

“A’right, a’right,” called another, smaller voice, and for a moment Owen thought Gahi had suddenly become a Trapinch. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Eh? Who’re you?” Gahi said.

“The one who’s gonna knock yeh ter next week if yeh attack someone else. An’ that goes fer all o’ yeh!”

Owen’s scales tingled. He felt something powerful on the other side of the door. “Gahi, be careful,” Owen whispered.

“I heard that,” the small voice said, and Owen suppressed a squeak.

The fact that Gahi wasn’t saying anything worried Owen.

“Now, here’s th’ deal,” the small one said. “You go an’ skedaddle down the hall an’ wait in a room, eh? Gonna talk with yer friend. He’s gonna be fine.”

This voice sounded familiar and he couldn’t figure out why. Owen was so distracted by rummaging through his memories that he didn’t pay attention to any of the talking until he heard Gahi’s footsteps, this time further down the hall. Two other sets of footsteps accompanied him, and Owen wondered if several more floated in the air.

Gahi’s tail thrashed on the ground to punctuate his anger, and Owen deflated, sighing. That… could have gone better.

A patch of darkness coalesced near the center-bottom of the door. At first, Owen thought it was a wraith and hopped back, spreading his arms and channeling fire through his claws and throat. But then, when his instincts subsided, he realized there was no way a wraith could be here. It felt too strong, anyway…

The shadows shaped themselves into something that vaguely resembled a bipedal body. Big head, wider than his shoulders. Owen was only a little shorter than this tiny, terrifying thing, and that only made him worry more. The last small, powerful creature he’d had to deal with was Rim, or Star.

Two orange ovals appeared on the creature’s head, centered with a yellow glow. A tiny, thin smile spread below them, smoky wisps drifting off of his head in an ethereal haze.

“Heh. Heya.” The shadowy creature made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. “Charmander, eh? Good ter meet yeh.”

“Hi.” Owen’s default wasn’t doing him any favors. “Um—I mean, I’m sorry for Gahi. He’s—”

“Nah, nah.” He waved dismissively. “I ain’t mad. I know the sort. Heh… Hey. I saw on the feed that yeh were sayin’ some weird stuff.”

“Oh, right, um, Hakk mentioned that he needed to get something and I had to wait, um, is Hakk okay?”

“Bah, he’s had worse.” He shrugged. “Yer name’s Owen, eh?”

“Mhm.”

“Right, right.”

A silence that lasted a second too long forced Owen to look at something else. Before he could find something to say, the shadow laughed, sending a chill up Owen’s spine.

“What’re you so nervous about?”

“You know why.”

“Aaaah!” And in a blink, he was beside Owen, patting his shoulder. “C’mon! Let’s have some bread.” In another blink, Owen was next to the table. A gust of ghostly wind blowing the red cloth off of the basket.

Trying to not panic, Owen took a piece of bread like a normal Pokémon and started to spread butter over his slice.

“So, Owen,” he said, “I figure I’ll introduce myself. I only got one name, real simple: Marshadow. It’s my species, and I’m one o’ a kind.”

“Marshadow…” He’d heard that before in his studies. One of a kind. “Wait, you’re a—”

“Aaah, yer a smart one.” He winked with one of his orange eyes. “Yep. A Legend, in th’ flesh! Er whatever I have. Oy, tell me.” Casually, Marshadow snapped his fingers, and suddenly several clicks echoed across the room. “Cameras’re off. Nobody c’n hear us. How old’re you?”

Who was this guy?! He couldn’t get a read on him at all, and even if he had Perceive, this wouldn’t—

“You alright?” Marshadow asked.

“Yeah, I’m—bread.”

“Nah, yer Charmander.”

His tail flared and he grabbed the jam next. “I’m old.”

“How far back, eh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know.”

Owen sighed lightly and collected himself. “Sorry, I don’t really know how old I am because my memory still feels spotty. I thought at first that I was around, you know, four, five centuries or so. But recently I’ve been getting memories from even further back, and now it feels like there’s a huge gap in between.”

“Right, right. Sounds like yeh’ve got a real story.” Marshadow wasn’t making any motions to go for the bread. Was that just an excuse to sit down and talk? That smile on Marshadow was back. “Y’haven’t really changed all that much, Owen. Still analyzing. Still gettin’ reads.”

Something about that sentence made all of Owen’s analyses stop. Suddenly, he was just staring dumbly at Marshadow, a thousand thoughts tripping over each other, and ultimately none came forward.

“Bah, darn shame yeh fergot me. Gahi, too. Ah well.”

 

[Namohysip]

Chapter 90 – Incomplete Memories​

Today had been interesting. The day before, Owen had been running for his life and afterlife from a creature that had been dwarfed only by the plateaus. And this morning, he had been awakened rudely from a very cozy nap in a very cozy bed. And now, probably still morning, yet it felt like an eternity, he was talking to Marshadow, who not only claimed to know him in some distant past… but also Gahi.

Three distinct snapping noises in front of Owen’s face brought him back to reality. “Huh? What?”

“I said,” Marshadow repeated, “how much did yeh ferget?”

“How can I know how much I—hey, do you know someone called Manny?”

“Eh?”

“Manny. He talks just like you.”

“Eh. No clue.”

Owen grumbled. “Maybe it really is an ancient accent.”

“Oy, who has an accent?”

“Nobody!” Owen said, stiffening, but then he saw Marshadow’s playful smirk.

“Nah, I get it.”

Owen deflated and took another bite of bread, sorting through his thoughts. He had so much to ask, but at this point, he had a good feeling that Marshadow wasn’t going to answer. Still… his hopeless optimism made him try anyway. “How do you know me?”

“Well, it’s probably not gonna ring any bells until they come back ter yeh,” Marshadow said, “but sure. Didn’t really know yeh all that much, jus’ by proxy when we got t’gether fer parties and all that. Unfortunately, ehh… that part o’ my memory’s also pretty shot. Been too long, had too many bad encounters, y’know how it is. I do know yeh were real close with us, though. Scaled Destiny Tower, and next thing we know, we’ve got a giant Charizard among us, heh.”

Owen was so glad he had experience with Manny. Gahi’s accent was thin, but Marshadow’s…

“So you’re saying,” Owen said, “that I used to go to… parties with Pokémon like you? And I was—giant?”

“Yeppers.” Marshadow nodded, scratching under his chin. “Dunno which Pokémon were at those parties, though. Just you, I remember real well, fer some reason.”

“And what about Gahi?” Owen asked. “You said you knew him.”

“Fer a bit. Taught him how ter fight fer some mission he had. Had a few folks who were students like that…”

“Like Manny?”

Marshadow shrugged. “What species?”

“Lucario.”

Marshadow perked up. “Y’know, now that yeh mention it…”

Owen nodded. That much made sense. Manny was Marshadow’s student, somehow? Yet Manny had no memory of it—or at least, he certainly would have mentioned something this substantial…

“I’m still trying to sort through my memories,” Owen said. “Maybe when I get more, I can start piecing it together. Don’t really know what good it’ll do me, but…” He sighed, finding these thoughts to be going in a circle. He wouldn’t go anywhere by just thinking about what he didn’t know. “Marshadow, do you know why I was associated with you guys?”

“Y’know, fer someone who doesn’t remember, yer takin’ this real well.”

“I—well…” He had a point. “Look,” Owen brought a few claws over his closed eyes. “Just two or three moons ago or whatever, I didn’t even believe in gods. Then I met Star and she turned me into a plant—I mean, er, a Grass-type.”

“Star. Mew Star?”

Owen nodded, and Marshadow smiled fondly. Owen didn’t.

“I’ve been going through enough lately that I don’t think this is too hard to believe anymore,” Owen said. “What I want to know is why this was hidden from me, and who did it.”

“Fer all we know, that was Dark Matter ‘mself. How else are all the Legends down ‘ere, barely recognizing each other?”

“All?”

“Well, nah, not all,” Marshadow said. “I mean, tons’re unaccounted fer. But figure since yeh said Mew Star, that’s one. Then there’s Arceus, figure he ain’t stuck ‘ere. Eh, dunno af’er that.”

“Zygarde and Lugia,” Owen said immediately.

“’Ey, ain’t that somethin’!” Marshadow grinned and nodded. “Well, ain’t that a relief. Okay, here’s the deal. Most of us don’t remember anythin’ about other Legends in Kilo. Like history was just totally cut off fer us. Ter me? Sounds like a Decree.”

“I was just about to say,” Owen agreed, arms crossed. “So Star and Barky might’ve made a Decree to hide—”

Marshadow’s face had suddenly contorted into a valiant effort to hide his laugh.

“What?”

“Barky? He really goin’ by that?”

“I think Star calls him that, and nobody really listens when he corrects her.”

For some reason, this left Marshadow trying even harder to stop from laughing. “Haaah! Lookit that! Always had a stick up his white tail. Guess someone’s really startin’ ter cut’m down ter size.”

“Right.” Owen tried to find a nice way to refocus the topic. This guy was all over the place… “The Decree, Marshadow. Do you think that’s what made everyone forget you guys?”

“I mean, it’s been a while,” Marshadow said. “Maybe we were just lost o’er time. And here in the Voidlands, maybe we jus’ lost those memories. Still, there is one thing I know fer sure.” Marshadow leaned back, thoughtful, his eyes suddenly serious. Serious enough that Owen was thrown off, wondering if he’d suddenly become a different personality. “I remember you weren’t under Star er Barky. And I remember those two fer sure. Maybe they’re just important memories, y’know, since they’re above me ‘n all that.”

He could understand that intuitively. Could a Decree hide away the gods of gods? Yet, if he wasn’t beneath either of them…

“The third one,” Marshadow said. “That’s who you were under. At least, that’s my deduction.”

“Deduction…” Owen frowned, scaly brow furrowing. “So this is like all the other Legends. You don’t remember, but you know they exist just because of those empty parts of your memory.” Third god?

“Yeh.” Marshadow waved in the air absently. “And he was strong. Maybe jus’ as strong as Star ’n Barks. Any time I think about’m, I feel… brightness. That’s all I remember.”

“Brightness…”

“The third god, dunno what to call’m,” Marshadow said. “Ev’n that was lost. But it’s just… bright. Has to do with the Z-Crystals, too.”

Owen paused. “Which has to do with the Orbs, maybe? But I thought those were the Plates of Arceus…”

“Eh? Plates?”

“Yeah.” Owen motioned to the table and traced out squares. “Arceus made plates of every element, which helped to contain and harness his own power, or something like that.”

Marshadow tilted his head, humming. “Every element?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Includin’ Normal?”

“I mean, he had to, right?”

“Huh.” Marshadow shrugged. “Dunno. Vaguely recall he never made a Normal plate since that’s jus’ how he was by default. Never had a use.”

“Well, we know the Normal Guardian, who had the Normal Orb,” Owen said, wondering how ADAM was doing. If he lost his memories, could they just perform some kind of… what did ADAM call it… system restore?

Marshadow snapping his fingers brought Owen back to attention. “Dunno about a Normal plate, but there’re definitely Normal Z-Crystals. If these Guardians er whatever’re related ter that, an’ you can sense Z-Crystals, maybe those Orbs came from the third god. The one we fergot…”

“Forgot…” Would Star and Barky have kept this hidden from him, too? A third god…

“Can I ask yeh somethin’?”

“Uh?”

“You loved usin’ Protect,” Marshadow said. “C’n yeh do it now?”

That was an odd request, but it was harmless enough. Stepping away from the table, Owen widened his stance and crossed his arms—which earned an amused smile from Marshadow that he ignored—and a golden shield formed around him.

“Yep,” Marshadow said. “Yer the same Owen alright. Turn around.”

“Okay, but why?” Owen asked, turning. “Why am I the same Owen?”

“Gold Protect,” Marshadow said simply. “That’s th’ mark o’ the third god. And speakin’ o’ marks…” Marshadow pointed at Owen’s back, but he couldn’t tell what Marshadow was pointing at. “That splotch yeh got there…”

“Oh, that’s just a birthmark. I think it came from when I was first creat—” But he wasn’t created. “You’re not telling me this splotch has to do with this third god, do you?”

“It’s kinda blurry,” Marshadow admitted, squinting, “but apparently it’s a mark left behind if yeh wanna be his student. Eight-sided star, longer on th’ cardinal directions… Maybe y’were in training? Either that er yeh kept it fer sentimental reasons. Looks like a splotch ter most, but I recognize the design anywhere.” Marshadow produced a badge with the same mark, but with a more angular, defined design that wasn’t distorted by scales or flesh.

“Gahi has the same,” Owen trailed off.

“He does, eh? Well, y’two were pretty close.”

“Is it really that noticeable?” Owen asked worriedly. “That’s not going to draw attention to me, is it?”

“Nah. It’s real faded. Blends in with yer wings real nicely, too. Somethin’ tells me th’ third god ain’t keen on bein’ flashy.”

For some reason, Owen felt the need to groan, but suppressed it. There was a joke in there, and the deepest recesses of his mind told him as much, but he couldn’t remember why, Still...

Something was still not settling right with him. This entire concept of a third god, something that Star and Barky were both unaware of. By now he would have seen some sign, any sign, that he existed before now. Why did he not have a Book like the other two did? Surely someone would have known about that. And, more importantly, he would have known if Star was lying about the Orbs’ true origins by now.

Yes, she’d lied before. And so did Barky. But he’d seen through their deception before, and this felt…

“I don’t think it’s a Decree from either of them,” Owen concluded. “Something else erased the third god from history. What if Dark Matter did it, somehow?”

“If Dark Matter has the power ter make Decrees, we’re dead,” Marshadow said.

Owen stared.

“…Deader.”

“Mm.” This was all a lot to take in, but he supposed it was better now than later. But he also didn’t know how much of what Marshadow was telling him was the truth or not. There was nothing to add up because this gap in his memory was still a total blank.

He didn’t want his head filled with too many falsehoods again. Could he risk it?

Owen was starting to wonder why this strange Voidlands existed at all. If Dark Matter was so strong that he could claim Guardians, why was he here? What was keeping him from just killing them all now? It didn’t make sense. There was something they were missing.

“You alright?” Marshadow asked.

“Yeah,” Owen said, nodding.

“Yer tail says otherwise,” Marshadow pointed a finger at the flickering ember.

If he could, he’d’ve cut his tail off by now. “Sorry, I’m still a little… stressed from all this information. Maybe I’ll ask more later, but right now, I just need and see if I actually remember all that. You know, to confirm it.” He shouldn’t have said that last part.

“Confirm?” Marshadow said. “Y’don’t believe me?”

He really should have stopped a sentence earlier. Scrambling, but still looking as calm as he could, he added, “Just—you know, so I have the details straight. Even you don’t remember everything, right?”

Marshadow was still looking at Owen’s tail. If only he could go Grass, but that power felt so far away from him now. He wasn’t ready for an interrogation. Marshadow was too strong. He could punch him into a red paste if he wanted.

“Alright.” Marshadow shrugged. “Fair’s fair.” He reached forward and offered another piece of bread. “Hey, don’t ferget ter eat. Ain’t doing that enough.”

“Oh.” At least that was true. Reaching for it, Owen said, “Thank—”

<><><>​

Xerneas sat across an oversized red-and-white blanket, sticking his nose in the air defiantly. Yveltal, next to him, teasingly offered a spoonful of curry with her massive wing-claws dwarfing the utensil. Owen was taller than them both while they were all seated in a circle. Mew was lying on top of a Psychic bubble, while a strange, bipedal feline of some kind stared at it in fascination. He was new to the group, Owen remembered: Mewtwo, a name based on the Pokémon he’d been based on.

Arceus, who only went up to Xerneas’ shins, trotted next to the second Mew-like creature and rammed into the bubble, popping it. Mew shrieked and landed on Arceus’ back, who bucked and tossed her onto the top of his head. Mew sighed, smiling, and rubbed Arceus between his eyes.

“Hey,” Jirachi said, floating high to get at eye-level with Owen. “What’s wrong? You aren’t eating.”

“Oh, sorry,” Owen replied, reaching down.

Jirachi already had a piece of bread the size of his head in front of Owen.

“Oh.”

“Here, at least eat something.”

“What’s got you so worried?” called a voice from behind Owen—Mesprit, concerned as always. Behind him, on another blanket set up, were Mesprit, Azelf, and Uxie. Azelf was busy wrestling with Uxie for the last dumpling, and something about that made Owen’s heart flutter.

“Charizard?” Mesprit asked again.

“Eh? Owen?” Azelf looked back. Too slow: Uxie snatched the dumpling and gobbled it down before Azelf had a chance to react. She then smirked and disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Azelf to grumble to himself.

“It’s just evals,” Owen admitted. “A lot of people had wishes, and, well…”

“Hey, no rush,” Jirachi said. “I probably grant too many anyway! Let’s take it easy. You can take off the Wishkeeper hat for a day, can’t you?”

“Hmm, overworking will only make you less efficient,” Palkia commented, though he was barely paying any attention, his face nearly pressed against the pages of an oversized book. He dipped a spoon in the air in front of him and drew some stew from the bowl by his side.

“You won’t be at your best if you never rest, Owen,” said a large Goodra across the blanket. “Why don’t you spend a day reading one of those action books of yours?”

“C-c’mon, Madeline,” Owen begged, trying with no luck to look smaller. “I can still keep it up, no problem! I—"

Jirachi used a burst of Psychic energy to jettison the bread into Owen’s maw.

<><><>​

Marshadow was repeating Owen’s name calmly, but not without a hint of concern, while he held Owen’s chest. Had he fallen forward?

“What?” Owen mumbled, ignoring a new, splitting headache.

“You alright? You looked vacant fer a sec, then fell.”

“I’m fine,” Owen said quickly. “Just… had some memories suddenly hit me.”

“What’d you see?”

“…A lot of… A lot of you.” Owen sighed. “Sorry. I guess maybe some of what you’re saying is true.”

“Just some, eh?” Marshadow said with an amused smirk.

Owen wondered if he knew how awkward it was for him to ask that kind of question. Perhaps even more awkward was his answer: “Yeah, just some.”

Marshadow’s smile faltered for an instant. “Geez,” he murmured. “What’d they do to you up there?”

He didn’t want to answer right now. He looked down and started to eat at his bread, and Marshadow got the signal. Physically backing away, he settled and pulled out a badge, flipping through the screen it displayed idly.

It just then occurred to Owen how silent the room was. So quiet that when the cooling device rumbled—the sound of ice being made—he jumped and stared at it with wide eyes. Composing himself again, he hoped his jumpiness wouldn’t be a sign of guilt, and tried to think of something to say. Anything. Anything!

“So uh,” Owen said.

And then nothing followed.

Marshadow waited patiently. Yet that was even worse. If he could just move things along and have some mercy, but no, the silence was already eating into Owen’s heart.

“Zena,” Owen suddenly blurted.

“Eh?”

Finally, something to grasp onto. “How is Zena doing? I—I want to see her.”

“Eh. Feebas, yeah. See, thing is, we kinda have ter observe yeh guys fer a few days, make sure y’ain’t Void Shadows in disguise.”

“Well, I’m not,” Owen said. “You can tell that, right?”

“Th’ Protect proves it,” Marshadow confirmed. “Void Shadows have black shields.”

“Well, I can sense that Zena’s Zena, too. I don’t know for Jerry, but he was with me for days. Everyone who was with me should be safe.”

“Well, ain’t you in a rush,” Marshadow commented, frowning. “Look, those scouts’re gonna be lookin’ high an’ low fer Ralts, so—”

“I still want to help. And there’s still so much I need to do, I—there are still a lot of friends out there that probably need my help. I need to get back to Kilo. I need to stop Dark Matter. I mean—I can’t just stay here!”

But the more passionately Owen talked, the deeper Marshadow’s frown became. In response, Owen tried to hide his frustration, and instead said, “At least let me out of this room so I can get familiar with the place. And—and Zena, too. And Jerry.”

“Yer askin’ a lot fer someone who ain’t even done with eval,” Marshadow remarked.

“I’m important to you, aren’t I?” Owen said. “Maybe I won’t cooperate if I feel like I’m not being treated properly.”

He had no idea where that came from. The momentum of his passion combined with the strange, casual nature of Marshadow’s behavior, and finally the sheer scope of what he’d just been told… And now he said something that he was going to regret. In that split-second, his flame dimmed, his breath stopped, and he wondered if he could backpedal. Then the flame returned.

Not this time.

“Teamwork is all about cooperating,” Owen said. “I’ll cooperate, but you already know I’m safe. It’s not helping anyone to keep me in this room.”

All the while, Marshadow watched with a stony expression that defied his wispy body. Impossible to read, perhaps even with his Perceive. He wore a smile, but a neutral one, and unlike Owen, Marshadow’s shadowy flames allowed no giveaway to his mood.

“Guess I was wrong,” Marshadow remarked. “You changed more’n I thought.” He clicked his tongue and hopped off his seat, hands behind his back, and paced toward the wall. Pressing a button, Marshadow said, “That food still coming?”

“Yes! Very soon.”

“Great. Move it ter Feebas’ room instead.”

“Feebas, sir?”

“Yeah. We’re gonna go there next.”

Owen blinked, a cold wave of relief rushing down his back. Did he just say that? So stunned, the Charmander didn’t rise from the table.

Marshadow looked back, jerking his head toward the door. “Well?” He snapped his fingers, and Owen heard several devices turn on within the room. Surveillance was enabled again. “Yeh got me convinced. Yer safe. Now you can help me eval Zena, and maybe Aerodactyl. But if he ain’t a seer, he’s gonna have ter go through the normal eval process. Can’t compromise on that.”

Owen wanted to protest, to pull for even more, but he had taken far too many unreasonable risks and demands with Marshadow to begin with. He nodded, trying his hardest to break the habit of bowing submissively, even slightly.

“Bah, relax,” Marshadow said, waving. “Hmph. There’s th’ old Owen.”

“Stop comparing me to—me! At least give me some time to come to terms with everything!”

“Oh, now it’s hitting you?”

“I don’t know.” Owen rubbed his forehead. One thing at a time. So many things were swirling in his head that he had to compartmentalize it. He wondered if returning to therapy was on the table. Did the Voidlands have therapists? Did the therapists here need therapists?

“Oy.” Marshadow snapped his fingers yet again, bringing him back to the void.

“Sorry.”

“I’m gonna walk ya to Feebas’ place. Then I’ll give yeh two some privacy while I sort out some paperwork.”

Marshadow went for the door and Owen followed after a few seconds of hesitation. There was something different about Marshadow compared to the other authorities he’d dealt with before. His parents, Eon, Star, and even Anam—it always felt like they were keeping the whole truth from him. Yet Marshadow, despite his name, seemed like the one who had shed the most light to his past in a single conversation.

Too bad he still had no idea what it all meant.

Feeling guilty for being so harsh on him, Owen followed in silence, trying to find something to say while they walked along the obsidian-like halls.

“I, um,” Owen started, stopped, and then continued, “how are things in this village, anyway? You’re the leader, right?”

“Eh, kinda. Yeah, pretty much. Comes with the status and natural power, I guess. Might makes right an’ all that nonsense.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “One day into th’ next, just keep things stable and movin’ forward. There’s some other stuff we gotta worry about, but eh, I won’t trouble ya with that yet. Y’heard enough. Enjoy yer time with Feebas an’ we’ll figure out next steps there.”

“Gahi, too,” Owen suddenly said. “Um, he’s safe, too, if that’s—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marshadow nodded and waved dismissively. “One at a time. Start with Feebas.”

“Can I at least visit Jerry, too?”

“Ehhh… I’ll think about it. No promises. He ain’t a seer? Then maybe not.”

At least he was honest.

Zena’s room was down another hall, and the grid-like nature of the large building concerned him again. Too much like Quartz. The ground here felt powdery, and Owen recalled that a potted plant had fallen here.

“Hey,” Owen said, “how’s Eon? The Ditto, I mean.”

“Eh, he’s all hot ‘n bothered,” Marshadow said dismissively. “Dunno what job he’s gonna look fer, but it’s about time he finds one. There’s more’n enough positions that need fillin’ to get the town running with all the new inhabitants we’re prob’ly gonna get.”

“Do you guys not usually get new ones?”

“Not in a while,” Marshadow said. “Been centuries since we’ve seen so many.” He placed a hand on one of the doors, nodding at Owen. “I’ll make sure yer food gets in.”

“Thank you.” Owen tried to smile, but it came with tired eyes, and Marshadow returned them with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Inside was a much cooler atmosphere with blue, shimmering lights on the ceiling, like looking up from the bottom of a river. Not a good sight for a Charmander; it meant he was drowning.

He wondered, in all his years, how many times had he drowned, or come close?

Past the same hall, the large room that Owen had seen as his eating and living space was instead a giant pit in the ground filled with water. Lights lined the bottom in little dots that helped illuminate the pool, and, swimming about inside, was Zena, still her humble, Feebas form.

There was a faint smile on her lips, and she didn’t notice that he was there for a while. He didn’t want to startle her, either, so perhaps he could make a more noticeable noise. He walked to the door again and knocked as loudly as he could against the wall—hoping that nobody was on the other side to hear.

Thankfully, the vibration must have carried to Zena, who surfaced and blinked.

“You aren’t allowed in here,” she said, though she sounded more puzzled than anything.

“Oh, they made an exception for me,” Owen said. “Um, may I come in?”

“Well…” Zena frowned. “As long as we don’t get in trouble.”

“We won’t.” Owen grinned and approached the side of the pool, but the unfamiliarity in her eyes dampened his spirits. She still didn’t remember. No! It was still Zena. He had to be positive. Memories returned; they just needed time. Hakk was class C, now he’s B—it meant there was a way up!

…How long had Hakk been here?

At some point, Zena had gone back underwater, swimming in happy circles, before she surfaced again. “Oh! Charmander, you must see something while you’re here!”

Being called Charmander hurt. Small again, and she didn’t even call him by his familiar name… But it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t worth bringing up; he’d only come off as fussy.

Owen hesitated to lean closer, but he tried. Zena’s fishy form cast fleeting shadows. She bumped her lips against one of the buttons underwater, and a thin stream of air floated through to the surface from several holes along the bottom of the pool. Zena dove through a few of these streams, then pressed another button, and the bubbles came out even faster.

She broke the surface of the water and wiggled in the air, landing with a decisive splash. “Isn’t this amazing?” she said. “Bubbles! Just like that!”

He had to admit, it was a spectacle. “It is,” Owen said, though he had no desire to join her in the water. “I never saw something like this before, just blowing air from the bottom like that with the push of a button…”

“It’s incredible!” She dove under again, and Owen couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Had Zena ever been this happy before? She was diving through the air without a care in the world. Normally, she was so much more reserved… and, well, a little gloomy, usually upset at one thing or another. She rarely yelled, though Owen recalled the others mentioning how she had really gone off on Star once.

This was nothing like that Zena. So happy and carefree… unburdened by her memories.

Instantly, Owen lost his smile.

“Charmander?” Zena asked. “Is something the matter?”

“Huh?” Owen sat up straighter, inching a little closer to the pool, but still not enough to dip his legs in.

“Oh, I’m sorry if the splashing is frightening you,” Zena said, shrinking down.

“No! No, it’s fine.” Owen nodded. “I just got lost in thought. Please! It was fun watching you.”

“Oh.” Zena hesitated anyway. “Well, I’m… It’s not becoming of me, anyway.”

“What?” Owen asked.

“I’m supposed to become graceful eventually, erm, when I become a Milotic. A-again. When I become one again.”

That was an odd reason to be subdued. “What, so you can’t have fun?”

“Er… I don’t know. I’m sure I can have fun. But if I want to evolve, I have to be graceful and elegant, not…”

Was that how it went for her kind? Owen had read that Feebas evolved in a very unconventional way, but he didn’t know how that went. It was like a mysterious secret that only their species knew. Then again, aquatic Pokémon weren’t very well-studied…

“I don’t think there’s any harm in enjoying yourself,” Owen said delicately. “I never got to see this side of you before.”

At first, Zena looked at Owen like he’d gone crazy, but then she realized, “Oh, of course, you—right. You knew me before.”

It still hurt, but Owen smiled. “I did. But you were a lot… well, you were happy. You enjoyed your time with me and the others. But I’ve never seen you… swim with joy before.”

“Perhaps because it’s undignified, if I was a Milotic.” She closed her sunken eyes sagely. “We have an image to keep up, after all.”

“You never seemed to care a lot about that… but maybe you actually did.” Owen frowned. It seemed unlike Zena to care about grace. Then again, she’d been alone for so long, maybe that old value had been lost.

After all, if being pretty or elegant was what was needed to become a Milotic, Owen could empathize with doing everything possible to evolve.

Owen worked up enough courage to dip his feet into the water, shivering at the first cold bite.

“Goodness, is water that bad for you?” Zena asked, drifting closer.

“Well, I mean…” Owen curled his tail forward to display its ember.

“Ah…” Zena drifted away, like she was afraid she’d put it out.

“It’s okay,” Owen said, smiling. “I’m used to the water. I’m just a lot weaker like this, so I’d probably get water shock a lot easier if I slip inside accidentally. Nothing like before we found you, though. I had to hold my breath and everything…”

Now that Zena was closer, he noticed something peculiar about the water around her body. Even now, it looked like there was a small amount of red radiating off of her—he recognized it instantly as residual Voidlands dust.

“Zena, have you been able to get cleaned?” Owen asked bluntly.

She flinched, and Owen realized his mistake.

“No, I—I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just, last night I was washing up in my room, and the ground was… covered in dirt from the Nil Plateaus. I just, with your fins, and everything, I was wondering if you had trouble.”

“…Are you hitting on me?”

A beat of silence followed where Owen only blinked. “What?!”

Zena frowned disapprovingly. “And you almost had me, too,” she said, turning around with a flick of her tail. “Trying to win me over just to get your claws on me. Honestly!”

“Wait, no, I—”

Owen had leaned forward too far and fell into the water. He gurgled in a panic before remembering his training; stiff tail, upward, arms wide, deep breath when he surfaced, and suddenly he was floating. The water’s coldness seeped into his scales, chilling his bones. Something pushed him toward the water’s edge. He reached for it calmly and rolled out and onto his back.

“Are you okay?” Zena whispered frantically, her voice next to him at the lip of the pool.

“Yeah, sorry,” Owen said, sighing. “Slipped.”

“Just so you could—”

“No, because you startled—I mean, because I got startled. No sane Fire would hop in a pool just for attention.”

“Hmph… Well. Then why did you offer?”

“You’re still kinda radiating the dirt in the water,” Owen said delicately. “Do you want me to get something to help wash it off?”

“I’m not even a Milotic and you’re already being so forward with me.” Zena sighed, looking away, though Owen could tell she was hiding a smile. “Were you this bold when I knew you as one?”

“…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Owen said. “I’m gonna find a cloth.”

<><><>​

The door to Zena’s room opened, and in came a Mienshao with a rolling table with a platter of food. “Room service!” he called, rolling the table inside and closing the door behind him. “We’ve got something simple for you both, some bread, we’ve got nutrient blocks for Feebas, and—”

Owen had Zena upside-down in the water, cleaning under her fins and then along her tail, where most of the void dust had collected. The Charmander looked back, startled at first, but then remembered what Marshadow had said about their meal.

“A-am I, er, interrupting something?” Mienshao squeaked.

“Oh, no,” Owen said quickly, “we were just—”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m just gonna—I’m gonna go. T-take care, er, food, Marshadow sends his, good.” And he was gone.

Alone again, Owen helped clean the last of the dust off of Zena before he offered, “Want me to get you some?”

“How will I eat it if it’s all terrestrial food?”

“Said something about blocks…”

Owen climbed the mini-stairs next to the table that had been rolled in and inspected the generous platter. That was far too much for just the two of them: A small basket with two thick slices of bread, what looked like slabs of meat—where did they get it?—and cheese. Also nearby were chopped berries and what appeared to be five brown cubes.

Curious, Owen grabbed one of them. Dense. Heavy. Dry. Crumbly if he squeezed. “These are just blocks of food,” he remarked.

“They don’t expect me to eat that, do they?” Zena said.

Owen looked for any kind of labeling or information, then sighed. None this time. “Maybe it’s some kind of nutrient-dense food. We’re both pretty malnourished.”

“Malnourished. I suppose so. I can’t evolve if I’m not healthy.” Zena dove underwater, went in a swift circle, and looked pleased at the lack of a dirt trail. “You have a very careful touch, Owen. I appreciate it.”

“Thanks,” Owen said, sitting by the water again. “Here, I think it’s dry because it’s supposed to go in the water first.”

He delicately placed the first block in front of Zena. It sank halfway in before bulging noticeably in size.

There was some hesitation, but eventually she opened her mouth and sucked the block, and a lot of water, in. Owen was transfixed at how quickly it had gone away, particles of brown food leaving her lips and floating through the water. It drifted toward a few holes near the pool’s edge—a constant drain of some kind? Clever…

“How is it?” Owen eventually asked.

“A little bland, but… I like it. It’s filling. Could you place the rest nearby? I can handle myself.”

Owen assembled the sandwich next while Zena enjoyed her blocks, and while he had offered the bread and a slice for Zena, she declined, saying she wasn’t interested in that kind of food. They ate their meal almost completely in silence, but this time, it was a cozy quiet. Occasionally, they made eye contact, but felt no need to speak, and instead smiled at one another. Zena wasn’t all there, but her feelings were, just under the surface. Just like when they had first reunited by the red river.

“Tell me about yourself, Owen,” Zena finally said, breaking the silence. “I’m sure I used to know all about you, and you’re kind enough. You don’t seem like the sort to lie.”

“It’s hard for a Charmander to lie,” Owen admitted, bringing his tail forward.

Zena bobbed once. “I see. And how did you end up with someone like me? A Water and a Fire… It’s not a normal combination, you know. Let alone how much larger I may become…”

Owen paused, looking at the last bite of his sandwich, and then at Zena, who had forced the final block down despite her fullness. They had given her five for a reason, Owen figured, to help get her back in good shape. Her huge eyes had a new, inquisitive light to them, and while Owen could not recognize them as the graceful, red eyes of a Milotic, he still saw Zena in them. It was the same look she had given when they’d read an interesting book together. But back then, Zena had been more interested in being with someone, no matter what the book actually talked about. Now, Zena looked ready to learn about her past.

But would she want to know all of that? She was so happy now. If Owen told her everything, and the memories came back to her, would she become unhappy again? Would that burden return that melancholy demeanor?

…But to keep the memories away from Zena would go against everything Owen had been fighting for.

“Owen?” Zena asked. “Is something wrong?”

“You didn’t live a very happy life,” Owen said. “…But do you want to know anyway?”

The Feebas blinked, and for a worrisome moment, Owen wondered if she’d refuse after all. He shouldn’t have said that. It was the same trick Star had performed to keep him from pressing for more information. Was this her reasoning? For his own good?

“I think I want to know anyway,” Zena said, disrupting Owen’s thoughts. “I may not remember it, but… something about what I feel from you tells me that I can trust you. That you’ll tell me the truth.”

Warmth spread through Owen’s chest and it showed in his joyous, yellow tail flame.

“Okay,” Owen said, his tone dripping with relief. “Then I’ll start with when I met you, and everything I learned about you, all the way to right now.”

“I would love that.”

She drifted to the water’s edge and stared upward, and for that single, brief moment, Owen felt peace.

“You lived in a place called Calm Water Lake. I met you as a Charmeleon…”