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While I feel this chapter was a bit short, I am less bummed out about it since I knew it'd be as such beforehand. However, you did deliver in that there's no shortage of things to talk about in this chapter.
The thing I found amusing the most in this chapter is Harbinger's reaction to overhearing Rio as well as reading up on the Project B files. It's weird seeing a murderer like him, who in the same chapter recounts how several Meowstic have fallen victim to him, be appalled by reading those documents about Mischief. Then again, things are never black and white and even irl, most killers act like normal people until it is time for them to commit the act.
Harbinger is plainly depicted not to be someone with a good heart by any means, but it makes sense that even he would not like where Rio's experiments are going. They'd be an inconvenience to Harbinger's chill life in going around villages and murdering the people there with conveniently placed natural disasters, and we can't have that now, can we? :p
It's actually accidental iirc! I'm not sure why I called him Rio. Cleo is named after the meowstic I had on my team in my first playthrough of Pokemon Y!
I like what you said about your friend having a similar name. I've never seen 'Chloe' spelt as 'Cloe' before (if it's pronounced the same?) I like it!
Oh cute! And yep, 'Cloe' is pronounced as 'Chloe'--her family is from Ecuador, so I think it's a Spanish spelling of the name.
Here to take a look at chapter 17 =D
Its position meant Harbinger had to be further away from the window than he’d have liked, but he’d still heard every word the sleazy meowstic had said. He’d not seen the pokemon, but he had the feline accent typical of a meowstic. Harbinger hadn’t encountered many at all, and several had fallen victim to his disasters.
3 things about this paragraph:
1. I normally associate the term "sleazy" with a particular type of immorality, so this required a double-take ^_^;
2. I love how you keep pointing out the different accents! I'd imagined Cleo speaking with a standard English accent so far (pls forgive me, I don't know different accents around the UK well at all), but it looks like they may have something more particular than that, heh.
3. Meowstics falling victim to Harbinger's disasters is big O_O
The documents weren’t exactly written by someone with great penmanship. It took a moment for Harbinger to get used to the scrawl that looked more like a joltik had trodden in ink before taking a stroll across the paper.
That log of Project B... When he mentions the madness not wearing off, it felt like reading the log of the Cinnabar researchers from Red/Blue/Yellow or reading the diary of the dwarves in the mines of Moria from the Lord of the Rings. The only difference was the Meowstic's callousness and barely showing any emotion.
It's sobering to think that Tyranitar was once sentient and even refused to fight once he realized how dangerous he had become. That's so sad :( When reading parts of the log, it would have been possible to think that they were talking about Mischief from the way he was activated by combat and really has a sweet, gentle soul.
“First, we find all the building’s weak points. Places that are left unguarded,” Harbinger went on. “Then we release all their test subjects, destroy all their data and run.” He turned to look back towards the lab. “If they want to breed chaos, then I’ll show them chaos. They’ll be sorry they ever made this ‘Project B’.”
This was a great chapter! So much information--I love chapters like these. Even though there isn't much happening action-wise, there's definitely a lot of information disseminated and it is so good. It really makes Rio look more monstrous and cold before, and that's saying something. It's always a treat to see Harbinger and the Pawniard twins, and I look forward to watching them wreak havoc on the lab!
Harbinger is plainly depicted not to be someone with a good heart by any means, but it makes sense that even he would not like where Rio's experiments are going. They'd be an inconvenience to Harbinger's chill life in going around villages and murdering the people there with conveniently placed natural disasters, and we can't have that now, can we? :p
2. I love how you keep pointing out the different accents! I'd imagined Cleo speaking with a standard English accent so far (pls forgive me, I don't know different accents around the UK well at all), but it looks like they may have something more particular than that, heh.
Hah! I don't imagine her with a cat-like voice myself. But it does suit that a feline pokemon would have a feline sound to their voice. I like little things like this.
This was a great chapter! So much information--I love chapters like these. Even though there isn't much happening action-wise, there's definitely a lot of information disseminated and it is so good. It really makes Rio look more monstrous and cold before, and that's saying something.
Thank you! =D It may have been a bit of an info-dump chapter, but it seemed a good way to get that information across and I'm glad you enjoyed it! Back to longer, more substantial chapters now! XD
18 - Failure
A plate of berries was shoved through a slat beneath the cell, which was promptly snapped shut afterwards. The sandslash stood back from the cell and flexed his claws. A sly smirk spread across his slender muzzle.
“Bon appetit,” he said in a raspy voice. “Better eat up, eh? ‘Cos it’ll be the last meal you’ll be eating for some time.”
Cleo watched the sandlash leave, then stared down at the plate. There weren’t many berries on it, and the assortment wasn’t much to sing and dance about. A few razz berries and a couple of pecha, and a few slices of dried meat she couldn’t identify. Nothing that would speed up their recovery from their assault the previous day. The berries were also coated in a thick sauce of an unappealing colour. ‘Not quite brown’ was the best Cleo could do at describing it. Despite the look of it, hunger gnawed at her stomach and she couldn’t help but pick one up.
Spark was first to dig in, plucking out a fat razz berry that had seen its ripest days and had started to turn. Regardless, she took a bite out of it and a smile spread across her face.
“It’s good!” she said. “Bit squishy, but the sauce adds something. You should try it!”
Harlequin’s muzzle creased with disgust and they sneered at her. “You aren’t even going to check it’s not poisoned first?!”
“They aren’t exactly gonna poison us, are they?” Spark scoffed. “They need us alive, right?”
Harlequin shrugged at that and turned to the plate. They gave the food a cautious sniff, then snapped up a piece of meat which they swallowed in one bite. They licked their lips and reached for another one.
Before everything vanished, Cleo grabbed another berry and a piece of meat which she guessed may have been fish, or a highly salted thing she didn’t dare question. She turned to Mischief and let out a small sigh.
He had been silent since their discussion earlier, and even the arrival of a meal hadn’t perked him up. No amount of conversation had dragged him out of his downward spiral. Cleo couldn’t fault him. She’d tried to put herself in his position and found herself wondering if she wouldn’t have reacted the same way.
She shuffled over to him and held out the pecha berry. “Here. You’re going to need your strength.”
He didn’t reply but shifted ever so slightly to look up at the bars.
“Mischief, please,” she said. “Once Enigma gets here, we’re going to need to try to escape. If he takes us back to the Shadow Lands, we’re dead.”
“What’s the point?”
She stared at him dumbfounded and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off before she had the chance.
“I belong here anyway, don’t I?” he shrugged. “So what’s the point in even trying?”
Cleo fell back on her haunches, still clasping the berry in both paws. His words wounded her, and she searched her mind for the right response. The silence that suddenly filled the cell indicated the other two had stopped eating to listen, Cleo and Mischief’s conversation clearly much more interesting than what was on the plate.
“No,” she finally said. “You don’t belong here at all, you belong in the Guild.”
Mischief rolled his eyes and leant his head back against the wall.
“You’ve demonstrated that much already,” Cleo went on. “You wanted to help us, and you’ve shown loyalty. I wouldn’t have even suggested it to Tinker if I didn’t think you belonged there.”
“Then why did you hide all this from me?”
Cleo sighed and turned the berry in her paws, which were now coated with the sticky sauce. “I’ve already told you that. It was for your own good-”
“You don’t get to decide that.” He hissed those words then lowered his head into his paws, muttering something else that Cleo didn’t catch.
She shook her head and pushed herself back up, leaving the berry beside him. If her words meant nothing then he probably wasn’t going to co-operate. And if he wouldn’t co-operate, there wasn’t much else she could do.
No… she had to help him escape. She couldn’t leave him here. If they escaped and left him behind then he’d only die at Enigma’s paws.
A few stray sparks of electricity danced on the corner of her vision and she turned her head towards Spark. The little dedenne’s whiskers crackled as she rubbed her paws over them, her huge eyes widening with alarm.
“Spark?” Cleo ventured. “Are you all right?”
Spark looked up at her with her tiny paws clasped over her cheeks. “I think my whiskers have shorted.”
Harlequin let out a huge yawn and Cleo fixed them with a frown. But the zorua didn’t notice, instead curling up into a tight ball. Something told Cleo that it wasn’t mockery, but she couldn’t quite place a paw on what it was. Everything sounded louder somehow, setting off a deep fear inside her. Every paw-step, every breath… it was deafening.
“Something isn’t right,” she muttered.
“It’s the sauce,” Harlequin slurred.
“What?” Cleo pressed her paws over her ears and looked down at the near-empty plate. “It was poisoned?”
“I don’t know,” said Harlequin. “I didn’t-” they yawned widely, “recognise it.”
“Poison?” The male voice thumped Cleo’s ears and she pulled them down further than they naturally went. “You offend me!”
Rio strolled over to the cell, tailed by Tantrum. The latter clutched a set of keys that jangled at a volume Cleo felt was wildly unnecessary.
“You might be feeling a little out of sorts,” said Rio. “Your attacks might be weaker, or non-existent.”
“What have you done to us?” Cleo hissed.
She tried to summon up the strength to blast the feline, but that familiar hum she’d grown so used to no longer rang in her ears. Her heart sank. That’s what it was. Like Spark, her powers had been cut off.
The door creaked open and Tantrum slipped inside to approach Mischief. Cleo watched him as she rose to her feet, keeping both paws over her sensitive ears. There was nothing she could do. If she got too close, the vigoroth would only retaliate. She snapped her head back around to the meowstic, her eyes flashing with rage.
“What was in those berries?” she demanded.
“A curious concoction designed to sap your strength.” The meowstic smirked and placed a paw on his hip. “Wacan for electricity, rindo for grass, payapa for psychic, and colbur for dark. I can’t very well have you assaulting us and foiling our plans, now, can I?” He raised his paws in a shrug.
Cleo’s jaw dropped. “But those berries are used defensively!”
“I am using them defensively,” he said. “The curious thing is, kitten, that when enough of them are eaten by a pokemon of the type they affect, it will hamper their strength. As you’ve now discovered.”
“Come on, you.” Tantrum grabbed Mischief by the arm and tugged him to his feet. “You’re comin’ with us.”
Mischief was oddly compliant, following the vigoroth from the cell.
“Grass…” Cleo muttered. Then her eyes widened and she reached out for Mischief, but the vigoroth swatted her aside.
She landed hard on her shoulder with a grunt beside Harlequin. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she placed her free paw over her ear and gave the whimsicott a pleading look. He didn’t even look back.
“Mischief!” she yelled. “You didn’t eat the berries! You can still use your attacks! Stop them!”
Mischief didn’t respond, following the sloth pokemon as he led him by the paw away from the cell.
Rio slammed the door shut with a clang that reverberated around Cleo’s head. She tugged her ears down with both paws and cracked one eye open, watching Rio as he locked the door. He fixed Cleo with a wicked grin and twirled the keys around his claw.
“You lot can stay in here while we wait for Enigma,” he crooned. “I doubt you’ll be here much longer.”
Cleo seethed and grabbed the bars in both paws. “What are you doing with him?!”
“Who? The whimsicott?” Rio inclined his head on one side and smirked. “We have big plans for him. You lot? Not so much. You’re just an inconvenience I’m getting rid of.”
He turned his back on them and strutted towards the doors.
Cleo seethed, rattling the bars to get his attention. “Leave him alone! He’s not done anything to you!”
“Oh?” Rio glanced back at her over his shoulder. “He failed his mission, so I’d say he’s done enough damage already.”
He turned and slipped through the doors, and Cleo let out a loud yowl. She threw herself against the bars of the cell with an almighty clang that reverberated along the bars. She fell back onto the cold, hard floor with her paws over her ears, her breath coming in frantic bursts.
A deep chuckle came from Harlequin, but Cleo didn’t look up. She couldn’t be bothered with the zorua. She felt defenceless, hopeless.
“Failed his mission?” Harlequin chuckled again, but there was no joy or mockery behind it. “I can relate to that.”
...
Night blanketed the forest, casting the squat building in deep shadows. The moon’s rays bounced off the white walls in an eerie fashion, making it look almost ethereal.
Harbinger stood between the trees with the pawniard twins, a clear map of the building’s interior in his mind. Scratch and Claw had managed to breach the lab for a quick look around before the Heretics had finally calmed the tyranitar. They’d confirmed there wasn’t much to it. A laboratory, a small break room with a table and chairs, several rooms that a brief look inside had confirmed were for sleeping in, a small office, and leading off from that was another room that was locked. There’d been no time to break inside, but Harbinger assumed that was where they were keeping their captives.
The building itself had two doors, one at the front and one at the back. The back door was locked from the inside with no guards. The front was open but had two guards - a plusle and minun - who were fidgety and nervous, jumping at every shadow. They were clearly awaiting Enigma’s arrival. If the banette was due, then Harbinger and his allies would have to work fast. If he were to guess, they didn’t even have until midnight.
Harbinger clutched a large branch in his jaws, stripped of its dry leaves. He kept his crimson eyes on Scratch as he whipped his claws together, creating a flurry of dangerous sparks. After several attempts they finally took, and the branch erupted into flames. Orange light danced over Harbinger’s white fur and created dramatic shadows that jerked and fluttered around the forest and clearing.
The absol turned his head to look at the buildings and tightened his jaws around the burning branch. It would soon become too dangerous to hold. The fire put him on more of a time constraint than Enigma’s hazy arrival. He nodded to the pawniard and they shot off ahead of him, leaping nimbly through the open window.
If things went smoothly, they’d take out whoever was in that office and bust into the holding cells. He gave them a moment before dashing across the clearing through the window after them. The office was empty, no sign of a body. The plan was going smoother than he could have dreamed.
He turned to glance around the office, taking it all in. Fire crackled and popped in his ears as it ate up the dry branch. Folders adorned the walls, and loose papers lay scattered along the floor, or crumpled up in a basket by the door. It was a hazard to an open flame. A few stray embers had already found their way onto the desk, and paperwork crumpled and curled as the flames consumed it. Harbinger grunted and turned his eyes back onto the wall of folders. He didn’t need to be careful with the torch. Everything in that office screamed at him to be burned.
...
Spark’s nose twitched and she pushed herself up onto her bottom. Her eyes widened and the colour left her cheeks. “Do you smell fire?”
Those words sent a chill through Cleo. The faint scent of smoke tickled her nose, growing heavier by the second. She could just make out the curls of black weaving their way through the gap where the doors met in the far wall. Her paw pads turned clammy and her heart throbbed in her ears.
Not fire.
Not them.
Not here.
Harlequin leapt to their feet and began pacing back and forth along the bars of their cell. Their blue eyes flitted over them, searching for any weakness. Any way out. The voices of the other pokemon locked away around them rose into a crescendo, and the deep clangs echoed around the pristine room. Yells for freedom and help tore through the air, causing Cleo to recoil slightly and tug her ears down with both paws.
Spark grabbed the bars in her tiny fists. “Oi! We smell fire! Let us out!”
“It’s no use,” Harlequin spat. “They won’t let us out. They’ll escape themselves first and worry about us later.”
“That makes no sense,” Spark spat back. “Doesn’t Enigma want us alive? He’ll kill them Heretics.” She paused, reading Harlequin’s face. “Right?”
Harlequin snorted and turned back to the bars, craning their head back to search higher up.
Spark sighed and looked to Cleo. “Can’t we do something? A psychic blast?”
“My powers haven’t fully returned yet,” said Cleo. “It would be more like a psychic tickle.”
She pushed herself up and examined the lock. Perhaps she could pick it? She flexed a claw and groaned inwardly. There was no way it would work. She didn’t even know what she was doing for one thing.
A strange sound came from the doors, like a metal blade hacking away at hollow wood. Cleo lowered her paw as she waited with her breath in her throat. Were the Heretics actually going to rescue the pokemon here?
The thought hadn’t fully registered in her head when the doors exploded open, letting in a cloud of black smoke. Standing just beyond it were two shadowy figures, the orange flames reflecting off their metal hides. Sharp blades stuck out from their bodies in a uniform fashion, deadly sharp and glinting in the light. Pawniard. They looked over at the cells with large amber eyes then parted, dashing around the cells. Their blades clinked against metal, and doors flew open as a chaos of colourful pokemon began to fill the room.
“Friends of yours?” Spark asked Harlequin.
Harlequin shook their head silently. The zorua was transfixed by the pawniard, looking from one to the next.
One of the pawniard shot past Cleo’s cell, cleaving the lock clean off as if it were made of wood. It clattered to the floor, and Harlequin shoved the door open with both paws.
Cleo followed the zorua into the confusion that had amassed in the centre of the room. Voices filled the air, warring to be heard over each other. No one knew what to do. Beyond those shattered double doors was a wall of flames, licking away at the white walls and leaving a mar of black in its wake. Wood snapped and popped over the roar of the hungry fire as it ate up anything in its path.
They were trapped.
The pawniard stood to the side, their wide eyes frantic. Cleo had no idea why they’d rescued them, but they were now as trapped as the rest of them.
Cleo had to do something. As Warriors of the Outcasts Guild, her and Spark had to save these pokemon somehow, Heretics or not. She raised a paw to where she expected her Guild badge to be, finding nothing. Of course, their belongings were stolen. But there was no time to reclaim them.
Spark stood tall on her shoulder, straining to see ahead. “There’s no way through that, Cleo. We’ll be reduced to cinders.”
Cleo straightened and raised her voice to be heard over the rest, “Listen!”
It fell on deaf ears. The pokemon were rising into a panic, and the young hatchlings among them were skittering around, weaving between feet, while others clutched their parents with tears streaming from their eyes.
Cleo searched each and every pokemon, looking for someone that might be able to get them through the flames. Her eyes landed on a pokemon roughly her height, covered with blue and white fur. An azumarill.
“You!” Cleo reached out a paw to grab her shoulder, but froze when she saw the Heretic mark.
The azumarill had heard her, noting the apprehension on Cleo’s face. The rabbit-like pokemon raised an eyebrow and looked to Cleo’s frozen paw.
Cleo silently scolded herself. She gave herself a shake and placed a gentle paw on the water-type’s shoulder.
“Can you lead the way and put out those flames?” Cleo asked.
“I dunno,” the azumarill replied. “I only know physical water moves, like aqua jet.” She rubbed the back of her ears and looked over at the flames that were rapidly encroaching on them. “But no one here knows what to do, so I guess I have no choice!”
Cleo bit her lip. If the azumarill threw herself into that wall of flames, sure she might fight them back a bit, but she’d be badly burned or worse. Cleo raised a paw to her ears. It was impossible to tell if her powers had returned in this din, but she had to try something.
“Let me help you,” she said.
The azumarill inclined her head on one side, but the confusion was plain on her face.
“You need to make water for your attacks, right?” Cleo asked. “So if you make the water, I can use my psychic to move it into the flames. You won’t need to make contact with them.”
“You want to work together?” A huge smile spread across the azumarill’s face. “An Outcast?”
Spark opened her mouth to retort, but Cleo placed a paw on her head to silence her.
“It’s the best option we’ve got right now,” Cleo told the azumarill. “And we’re rapidly running out of time.”
“All right! I’m the only water-type here, so our choices are rather limited.” The azumarill nodded and her smile turned more friendly. “Let’s do this then, Outcast.”
The azumarill raised her paws and a heavy veil of water surrounded her body. Spark made the wise choice to leave Cleo’s shoulder, allowing the meowstic to unfurl her ears. That familiar humming sound intensified, but not at the level she was used to. Her powers were coming back, but it wasn’t perfect. She’d have to try her best and hope it held out just long enough to get everyone out of the burning lab.
She dragged water from the azumarill’s body and launched it towards the flames. It sizzled, driving them back a little. She followed the azumarill towards them, dragging off more water for a second blast. By her third attempt, she managed to work it into a steady stream, pouring it against the flames and flooding the tiles. Paws splashed through them as the other pokemon took the hint and followed the meowstic and her ally through the doors to the blazing office.
The flames roared and crackled, eating away at the ceiling. Beyond them, she could hear the tyranitar howling just outside. Its tail swished past the window, and its hulking mass struck the wall, splitting the hot mortar. There was a loud crack, and one of the beams broke free from the ceiling, shattering onto the floor in a spray of embers. Cleo yelped, twisting away from it. Pokemon cried from the other side, fighting to move away from the smoldering beam. Two weren’t as fortunate, lying crushed beneath the wood. Cleo could just make out the leaves of a small snivy and the creamy fur of a mareep. The small sheep gave a feeble bleat, struggling to shove the burning beam from its body. The two pawniard hacked away at it, but Cleo motioned for them to move back while she turned the water onto the new flames.
The beam rolled back from the mareep, but the other pokemon were frantic, scrambling over the wood before the flames were fully out. Spark shouted something that Cleo didn’t catch beyond the screams of the captives and the panicked bleats from the mareep. Cleo’s attention was fully focused on putting out the rest of the flames, but the strain was tugging at her limited powers. Her hold on the water weakened, reducing it to a splutter. But she got it back under control, straining with the effort to put out the last of the flames barring their path. The captives flowed towards the open window, vaulting it to freedom. More voices yelled outside. The Heretics. They were drowned by the chaos of screams and attacks from the captives. From one danger straight into another.
A twang of pain shot through Cleo’s ears, cutting off her psychic. She seethed silently and turned to survey the room. The flames were mostly out, and what was left of them were held back by the puddles of water spreading across the tiled floor. The rest of the captives could flee safely. She scooped up Spark then froze, spotting the mareep who was struggling to stand. The azumarill trotted past her to the fallen snivy and tossed the wooden beam across the room with alarming ease. She gave the small snivy a nudge with her paw.
“She’s not moving,” she said. “But we can’t leave her.”
“What are you doing?!” Harlequin snapped. “We have to get out of here before those Heretics come back!”
The zorua cowered at the end of their restraints, their ears back and eyes flaring with anger.
“I’m not leaving anyone behind,” Cleo said flatly. “Unlike you, I won’t abandon those who can be helped.”
“A fatal weakness,” Harlequin muttered.
“Good attitude, Outcast.” The azumarill scooped the snivy up anyway and turned back to Cleo. “More could use your level of thinking. Can you lift the mareep?”
Cleo flinched slightly. “I can try.”
She sized the sheep pokemon up. Ordinarily she’d use her psychic to carry him, but that option was beyond her now. Instead, she hoisted him in both paws and made for the window.
“You go first, Harlequin,” she said.
It didn’t even need to be voiced. The zorua sprang from the window without a second thought, landing neatly on the floor outside. Cleo followed after Harlequin, carefully swinging herself onto the windowsill. Still cradling the mareep, she dropped to the other side. Cool air swept over her, and she gulped it down. She hadn’t realised how light-headed she was becoming in that inferno. The cool air was soon whipped away as, with a thundering roar, the raging tyranitar whipped up a fierce sandstorm. Cleo almost dropped the mareep as she leapt back from the wall to search for a quick exit through the thick wall of sand.
“I told you we should have left them!” Harlequin wailed.
Cleo wasn’t interested. Cradling the small mareep, she turned her head as she tried to see through the storm. “Spark?!”
“Over here!”
Cold water splattered over Cleo’s face and she let out a small yell. She shook her whiskers and squinted, just making out the azumarill standing a short distance away. At her feet was the sandslash with water dripping from his scales. Spark stood beside him, whiskers crackling in a threat that ordinarily the ground-type wouldn’t care about.
The azumarill gave Cleo a small smile. “You all right, Outcast?”
Cleo nodded and trudged forward through the sand to join the azumarill. The tyranitar let out a howl, staggering from the back of the building. Huge chains hung from its paws, tightening as someone struggled to pull it back. Cleo’s heart pounded and she motioned for the azumarill to move.
“We have to get out of here and fast,” she said. “Before they come after us.”
“Or lose control of that thing,” Spark added, nodding to the tyranitar.
“The question is, which way?” Cleo asked. “We need to find Mischief, and I can’t see further than my paw right now.”
“Who, the fluffy guy?” The azumarill waved a free paw towards the trees. “He ran off into the forest.”
Cleo clenched her teeth. So he didn’t wait for them? She shook that thought away. Of course a grass-type couldn’t wait by a burning building. She couldn’t hold that against him. Fleeing fire would be instinctual.
The azumarill motioned for Cleo to follow and began trotting towards the edge of the clearing. Cleo jogged to keep up with her, juggling the mareep in her arms so she didn’t drop him.
Getting through the sandstorm felt like it took an eternity, but it really didn’t cover much ground. The trees surrounding the clearing acted like a barrier, keeping the worst of it contained. When they were thick into the cover of the trees, the azumarill finally stopped. A few of the pokemon had gathered together, talking amongst themselves and looking in all directions. No one knew where to go. The younger ones were likely raised in the lab. Just beyond them, Cleo spotted Mischief standing on tiptoe, staring back towards the clearing. She hadn’t seen the Heretics bring him back to the cells, nor had she seen him amid the fleeing captives. Perhaps he’d managed to escape wherever they were holding him when the Heretics fled the blaze? Whatever the case, she was relieved to see him alive and well.
The azumarill set the small snivy down at the base of a tree and covered his body with leaves. A wave of sadness washed over Cleo. All that chaos, and no one had thought to rescue the young pokemon.
She turned to the azumarill and smiled weakly. “Thanks for your help back there.”
“Hey, I should be thanking you,” she replied. “If you didn’t use your crazy psychic moves, none of us would’ve made it out of there alive. Or we’d be locked up in those cells again.”
Cells…
Cleo twisted to look around her. “What happened to those pawniard?”
“They escaped,” said Harlequin. “They’re outlaws. They wouldn’t stick around Outcasts.”
Cleo looked down at the zorua hunched beside her, bristling. “How do you know they’re outlaws?”
“What? You think the Darkness is gonna free you?” Harlequin let out a single laugh. “Besides, pawniard and bisharp were wiped out years ago. I didn’t even know any survived.”
Outlaws… the outlaws were dealing with the Heretics. Why would they free their test subjects and let them run away?
“Whoever they are, it doesn’t matter,” said the azumarill. “We’re in their debt now. Like we are yours, Outcast!”
Cleo smiled at her. “It’s Cleo.”
“Blossom.” The azumarill beamed. “I guess this is where we part ways now, hey?”
Cleo gave a small nod. “I guess so.” Then she shifted to adjust the mareep. “Are you okay, kid?”
He took in a ragged breath. “It hurts to breathe.”
“Then try not to talk, okay? You clearly need treatment.” Cleo looked back up at Blossom. “Is there any chance you can look after him? I can’t bring him with us, it’s too dangerous, and we’re far away from any Outcast settlements.”
“Sure!” Blossom took the mareep gently, holding him with much less effort than Cleo. “He’s one of us anyway. I hope you find your friend, and make it safely away from here.”
“And where will you go?”
Blossom shrugged. “Far away from these crack-pots. And I won’t be joining any more Heretics.” She paused and gave Cleo a weak smile. “I’m sure we’ll find somewhere.”
Cleo nodded and watched Blossom shuffle off into the crowd. The azumarill paused to look back at her.
“You never know,” she said. “We might meet again some day!”
“I hope so.” Cleo smiled and gave the water-type a friendly wave.
She then turned back to the crowd and caught Mischief’s eye, and the whimsicott trotted over to them. No spring in his step. No humour in his eyes. He gave them a sad smile and looked back to towards the clearing.
“I guess no one belongs here.” He laughed and shook his head. “Maybe it’s a good thing I forgot this place.”
“I’d say so,” said Spark. “I kinda wanna forget it myself.”
Cleo let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
He gave a weak shrug, not taking his eyes off the clearing.
Cleo placed a paw on his arm, which he didn’t resist, and ushered him on through the trees. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they come after us.”
She gave a cautious glance back to make sure they weren’t being followed, then led the group through the trees away from the chaos of the burning lab. Harlequin trudged along behind them, still bristling, watching the canopy warily. Cleo found herself peering up into the branches, but with the smoke filling the air it was unsurprisingly void of life. Cleo gave Harlequin another glance, wondering what on earth the zorua was so afraid of.
...
“I don’t believe this!” Rio roared, straining to be heard over the rampaging tyranitar. “An absol! An absol brought disaster on my lab!”
The tyranitar staggered back, dragging Tantrum through the sand as the vigoroth strained to hold onto the chain confining its arm.
“I think we have bigger things to be worryin’ about right now, boss,” he said.
The tyranitar thrashed again, lifting the plusle and minun clean off the ground. The two small pokemon wailed, flailing their legs as they tried to swing gravity in their favour. Lou, too amused by the pair, burst out laughing and loosed his own chain. His sister gave a muffled howl as the tyranitar dragged her across the ground and swept the heliolisk’s feet out from under him with its tail.
Rio slapped a paw over his face. Any minute now, and Enigma would arrive. He’d arrive, expecting those Outcasts and that whimsicott to be securely confined… and Rio had lost them.
He’d failed.
All because an absol burned down his lab. A pokemon that had been believed extinct. It had paused at the edge of the clearing, glaring at him, only to vanish into the forest. It had wanted him to see it. Not a single absol had been seen in ten years, just rumours. There was no way Enigma would believe him, especially if none of Rio’s employees did.
A soft chime rang out through the din from an unseen bell, sending a chill right down Rio’s spine. Oh, how he wished he was elsewhere. The tyranitar jerked its head around, dragging Tantrum off the ground.
“My, my.” Enigma materialised in the branches above Rio and surveyed the chaos. Project B, the smoldering wreck of the building. “This is quite the situation you’ve got yourselves into.”
“Enigma! I can explain!” Rio spun towards the tree and pointed at the burning lab. “It was an absol! It set fire to my lab and released all my subjects! They fled into the-”
“Forest,” Enigma finished, clicking his tongue as he gazed off into the trees. “I’m aware. It’s filled with fleeing pokemon. I guessed from that chaos that you’d lost the whimsicott and his friends. So careless.” He fixed his crimson eyes on Rio. “Whatever am I going to tell my boss?”
“I can get them back!” Rio shouted over the cries of the struggling pokemon. “I’ll get them all back! Well… maybe not all, but I’ll find the whimsicott at least and send message to you-”
Enigma plucked a blue feather from his mouth and flicked it away. It drifted slowly to the ground, drawing Rio’s eye.
“Thanks for sending me a snack, by the way.” Enigma punctuated it with a sinister grin.
Rio couldn’t find the words to reply. He stuttered as he watched the chatot’s feather land softly on the sandy floor.
Enigma chuckled and pushed himself back from the trunk of the tree. He strolled along the slender branch and tucked his paws behind his head. “I told you not to let me down, Rio.”
“But… it was the absol!” Rio looked up at him again. “I wasn’t expecting-”
“You really expect me to believe that?” Enigma’s smirk melted into a frown. “An absol? Please. Even if one did show up here, why would it set fire to your lab and release all your test subjects?” He waved a paw towards the thrashing tyranitar, now straining against all the pokemon who had their feet securely on the ground. “You let them escape so you could control your pet.”
Rio’s claws dug into his paw pads and he waved a fist at the tyranitar. “If this thing breaks free, it will spell disaster!”
“You’re obsessed with disaster!” Enigma threw his paws in the air and twirled nimbly on the branch towards the behemoth. “Absol this! Disaster that! Oh no, an absol burned down my lab!”
“I’m telling you the truth!” Rio roared. “This thing is an unstoppable killing machine!”
“Nothing is unstoppable, Rio.” Enigma flashed him a menacing grin. “Shall I show you?”
Before Rio could answer, Enigma vanished into thin air. The banette reappeared just below the tyranitar’s jaw. It hadn’t noticed, too distracted by the pokemon trying to avoid its massive feet. Enigma clutched onto the pokemon’s stony armour with one paw while the other vanished beyond its chest plate.
Its entire body turned rigid for a fleeting moment. Then it threw its head back with a blood-curdling howl. Not one of ferocity, but of excruciating pain. It shook Rio’s insides, and he fought the urge to flee into the trees. The tyranitar twisted, swinging left and right, its tail whipping up sand and scattering those who didn’t manage to get out of the way in time.
“What are you doing?!” Roxie barked, bouncing on her toes to dodge Project B’s feet as she watched Enigma. “Let it go! You’re hurting it!”
The tyranitar crashed into the burning building, sending mortar hurtling down around it. The other pokemon watched helplessly from a safe distance, not daring to get any closer.
The tyranitar’s howling petered out into a strangled gargle as its thrashing slowed, and its eyes grew dim. The raging sandstorm abruptly ceased, giving Rio a clear view of the tyranitar as it struggled to remain upright. It teetered on one leg for a moment before it came crashing down into the clearing, sending a few stray leaves from the trees. Roxie leapt aside and stood with her tail between her legs, looking between the tyranitar and the banette.
Enigma leant against the tyranitar’s torso and flicked fresh blood from his claws, before stooping to wipe them clean in the sand.
Roxie trotted over to the fallen experiment, sniffing its face cautiously. Her ears drooped. “It’s dead!”
The lycanroc looked up at Enigma and bristled, baring her canines. Lou appeared beside her and nudged the behemoth with his foot.
“I told you anything can be stopped,” said Enigma. “Perhaps now you can get your priorities straight?”
Rio couldn’t look at him. His eyes remained on the fallen tyranitar, his blood boiling. His tails bristled and he swished them sharply from side to side as a low growl tried to form in his throat.
Ruined.
Everything was ruined.
Enigma kicked himself back from the tyranitar’s fallen body and strutted across the clearing. He paused beside Rio and spoke softly to his ear.
“I’m done with you, Rio. You failed me.”
A chill ran down Rio’s spine, pushing his fur on end.
The banette adjusted his scarf and strode away into the shadows, the soft jingling of his bell fading away into the distance.
...
A/N - Oh dear... Hopefully Enigma's orders to 'not leave a trail of blood' won't come back to bite him in the tail, huh?
After two consecutive short chapters, it was a refreshing change of pace to get a moderately lengthy chapter, and quite a bit happened in this chapter as well.
While I enjoyed this chapter a lot, I think the sequence of events between the first and third scenes confused me a bit. For one, we aren't told where Rio took Mischief, and yet Mischief somehow was among the escapees in the fire scene. Furthermore, his mannerisms were devoid of anything he'd displayed earlier on in the chapter. I understand that he's glad Cleo and the others survived, but it's still a dramatic shift in attitude. It's like he'd forgotten he was mad at Cleo just two scenes ago.
That aside, I did enjoy everything else about the escape scene. Cleo psychically channeling water from the azumarill was pretty creative, and it was nice to see the Azumarill be cooperative, considering before heretics would ditch an outcast at a moment's notice. I guess it's because they were all in a tight spot and had no choice but to work together. I'm sure we'll see those freed heretics again in later chapters, and I'm curious to see where that development leads to.
This chapter finally shows us one of Enigma's preferred methods of killing, and now I can see why he's so widely feared by everyone who's ever heard his name. It's certainly a creative use of the ghost type attribute, though I'm curious about why he was able to phase through a dark type with such relative ease. Can all ghost types—what's left of them anyway—phase through the bodies of others that easily or is Enigma just an exceptional example among them? Otherwise I'd be really surprised ghost types aren't the ones running the world if they could kill you without you being able to even make physical contact with them.
I almost, almost, feel bad for Rio at the end of the chapter, but I think he deserves everything that happened back there. I'm really surprised Enigma didn't just kill him right then and there, but I suppose Enigma isn't done with his fun yet. I am curious to see what becomes of that, and I hope we get more explanation on Mischief's sudden change in attitude, and also how Rio knew an Absol was the one who sabotaged him. I wish those events didn't happen offscreen, as it'd be really awkward to backtrack to a different pov showing those events in the following chapter because the ending of this chapter is clearly written as an arc closer.
While I enjoyed this chapter a lot, I think the sequence of events between the first and third scenes confused me a bit. For one, we aren't told where Rio took Mischief, and yet Mischief somehow was among the escapees in the fire scene. Furthermore, his mannerisms were devoid of anything he'd displayed earlier on in the chapter. I understand that he's glad Cleo and the others survived, but it's still a dramatic shift in attitude. It's like he'd forgotten he was mad at Cleo just two scenes ago.
I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter! =D I just wanted to reply quickly to let you know I've taken this on board and amended the chapter a bit now. I hope it reads better. Mischief's change in attitude was very jarring, and this is probably because I'd made him much more depressive in the re-write. I write this up with the original open most of the time, and I'd obviously missed that!
This chapter finally shows us one of Enigma's preferred methods of killing, and now I can see why he's so widely feared by everyone who's ever heard his name. It's certainly a creative use of the ghost type attribute, though I'm curious about why he was able to phase through a dark type with such relative ease. Can all ghost types—what's left of them anyway—phase through the bodies of others that easily or is Enigma just an exceptional example among them?
I know we've discussed this on Discord, but perchance anyone else is curious I wanted to address it here.
Enigma's killing method isn't an attack, so it's not hampered (or benefitted!) by type-advantage. He phases through a solid object, and... well... does what he does. It's brutal and cruel and very taboo, and part of what makes him such an effective and terrifying assassin.
I wish those events didn't happen offscreen, as it'd be really awkward to backtrack to a different pov showing those events in the following chapter because the ending of this chapter is clearly written as an arc closer.
Sorry about that. I don't write everything that happens, some things like this get covered in character dialogue after the event. I have, however, amended Rio's scene to cover him actually seeing Harbinger before he vanished into the forest.
Thanks so much for the feedback! I take everything on board and I want to make this the best it can be!
Oooh once Spark said that her whiskers shorted out, I reralized that Harlequin was right about the food being tainted.
“Who? The whimsicott?” Rio inclined his head on one side and smirked. “We have big plans for him. You lot? Not so much. You’re just an inconvenience I’m getting rid of.”
Ooooh dang Rio is cold. He comes across as genuinely scary/frightening and capable in this scene, what with successfully tainting the Pokemon and taunting them as he takes Mischief away.
He kept his crimson eyes on Scratch as he whipped his claws together, creating a flurry of dangerous sparks. After several attempts they finally took, and the branch erupted into flames. Orange light danced over Harbinger’s white fur and created dramatic shadows that jerked and fluttered around the forest and clearing.
This took me a second read-through to reralize that Scratch was the one who created the fire--since the first "He" refers to Harbinger, I had thought the second one did as well. Might want to replace the second "he" with either Scratch's name or species to make it clearer?
He nodded to the pawniard and they shot off ahead of him, leaping nimbly through the open window.
Up until this point, the description of the lab always being white and pristine clean gave me the impression that it was made of tile and metal--but here the description and the fact that it's going up in flames shows that it's clearly made of wood. Is the wood painted to be white? Or perhaps some features I just didn't notice on the first read-through?
“You want to work together?” A huge smile spread across the azumarill’s face. “An Outcast?”
It's kindof sweet that, up until now, Heretics we've seen have been more hostile to Outcasts. Here, the Heretic smiles and looks happy at the thought of working with an Outcast!
Neat to see their clever thinking to douse the fires! I like seeing Pokemon moves used in an unconventional way like this :)
Something that struck me was that, up until now, I'd had the impression that fire gave Cleo PTSD or instigated some sort of traumatizing experience in her past. She starts out terrified when the lab is initially on fire but then she gets over it and continues on. Was it the fact that the Houndoom weren't there like she had thought they would be? I can also see why you'd need your protagonist to be in the thick of things and working hard, but it seemed to me like her terror just kinda disappeared in the heat of things.
Cleo clenched her teeth. So he didn’t wait for them? She shook that thought away. Of course a grass-type couldn’t wait by a burning building. She couldn’t hold that against him. Fleeing fire would be instinctual.
My initial thought was, what with being separated from them and feeling a bit alienated, Mischief wouldn't be interested in waiting any--but this observation is also pretty spot-on.
Blossom shrugged. “Far away from these crack-pots. And I won’t be joining any more Heretics.” She paused and gave Cleo a weak smile. “I’m sure we’ll find somewhere.”
Sounds like more Pokemon will be going faction-less!
Cleo found herself peering up into the branches, but with the smoke filling the air it was unsurprisingly void of life. Cleo gave Harlequin another glance, wondering what on earth the zorua was so afraid of.
Well, the canopies may be void of life, but will they still be void of ghosts? :P
Enigma clutched onto the pokemon’s stony armour with one paw while the other vanished beyond its chest plate.
Its entire body turned rigid for a fleeting moment. Then it threw its head back with a blood-curdling howl. Not one of ferocity, but of excruciating pain.
Oh, Enigma, betraying your boss's orders never got you anywhere good.
I thought that this chapter was great--I personally think that having things happen offscene was fine, as including everything in what's already a pretty dense chapter can make things feel even denser and possibly cluttered. My favorite was Rio's scene with Enigma at the end--I think Rio's an interesting character, and you definitely show how chilling Enigma can be when he's willing to kill others purely to hurt different people.
This took me a second read-through to reralize that Scratch was the one who created the fire--since the first "He" refers to Harbinger, I had thought the second one did as well. Might want to replace the second "he" with either Scratch's name or species to make it clearer?
Up until this point, the description of the lab always being white and pristine clean gave me the impression that it was made of tile and metal--but here the description and the fact that it's going up in flames shows that it's clearly made of wood. Is the wood painted to be white? Or perhaps some features I just didn't notice on the first read-through?
No, Scratch and Claw can camouflage quite well being dark-types, so the guards wouldn't have seen them. The pawniard are also pretty careful.
You're right about the tiles, the floor is, as are the walls in the cells, but the rest is pretty wooden. And the mess of papers on the floor would have caused the fire to spread, the heat would have cracked the tiles, not to mention the inferno taking over the abundant shelves... it would have been pretty chaotic!
Hah! Enigma has a trademark move. You'll get a clearer insight into that in his backstory ;)
19 - Ruins
Pet.
‘Pet’ was the word he’d used to describe that thing.
‘That thing’…
The word ‘pokemon’ hadn’t even occurred to him as a suitable word to describe it.
Enigma nibbled on a claw as he trudged through the thick tangle of mountain plants on the outskirts of the forest. His mind was completely lost in the chaos of all that had ensued, and he’d not even paid attention to where he was going. Something snagged at his scarf, halting him in his tracks and dragging him back to the present. He paused to untangle himself from a dried-up razz berry bush and glanced over his shoulder at the barrier of closely-knitted trees.
Rio had claimed an absol had caused all that chaos. Enigma didn’t want to believe him, but there had been rumoured absol sightings throughout Estellis. Words that had travelled on the wing more so than claims from any pokemon Enigma had interacted with. Especially since his interactions were either for specific information or the demise of a particular target.
Whether or not it was just an excuse, there was no reason for Rio to outright lie to him. The lab had definitely been targeted, absol or not. And if it was an absol, what did they want with a Heretic lab? And why release all their subjects, including a group of Outcasts? Dark pokemon didn’t hang around with the Outcasts. Outlaws stayed well away from them, as well. Any dark pokemon (or ghost, or dragon) were met with speculations or accusation from the Outcasts, and were often imprisoned or never seen again. Or killed.
Of course, ‘never seen again’ and ‘killed’ were likely the same thing.
So what was the absol doing? Why aide those pokemon and release a monster like that tyranitar in the process? Did they know something Enigma didn’t? Something that Rio had kept from him?
That tyranitar… After thinking about it, there was one word Enigma could use to describe it.
‘Insane’.
Its reaction wouldn’t be fitting for any sane pokemon. To rampage like that, desperately trying to hurt those who were trying to control it… any pokemon would fight for their lives, but not like that. It would have been shouting, for one thing. Words. All that thing was giving out were mindless howls and roars, and its struggles had been an attempt to maim. Enigma had encountered it once before, and it had seemed as primitive and mindless then as it had been during its rampage.
‘Madness’ was in its eyes. It wasn’t a sane pokemon. Not remotely. It was a dangerous killing machine that for some reason Rio was keeping captive. As much as Enigma had wanted to get back at Rio for letting him down, killing the tyranitar had been mercy.
So why was Rio holding onto it, then? Other than causing mayhem, why hadn’t he instructed his workers to destroy it then gather the captives? What was so important that Rio had violated his commitment to Enigma to hold Boomer’s killers?
Enigma chuckled and smoothed out his scarf, removing some of the stray thorns embedded in the thick material.
Yes, Rio was hiding something, and that absol knew it.
It was the only explanation.
Perhaps it was a good thing he’d spared the meowstic. You can’t drag information out of someone if they’re dead. If Enigma wanted to know what was going on, then he’d have to go back there and beat Rio until he finally spat out just exactly what his reason was to create such a beast.
But there was another matter gnawing at Enigma. That chatot who had reported to him had told him there had been four pokemon held in that lab. Not three. Enigma had expected the whimsicott, meowstic and dedenne. But the fourth… the chatot had claimed it was Harlequin.
What was Harlequin doing with those Outcasts? Had they failed their mission?
He flicked a thorn he’d been staring at into the bushes and turned back towards the forest. The sun was setting. The Outcasts would be looking for somewhere to hide away and sleep, safe from the prying eyes of any pokemon lurking in the shadows.
He planned to be that pokemon. He just had to find them first.
...
Cleo’s lungs were fit to burst. She had no idea how long they’d been running for. They’d long since lost the other escapees who had broken off into small groups and scattered throughout the forest. Cleo had followed suit. It was a wise move. A huge swarm of pokemon fleeing through the forest would have been an easy target for anyone awaiting such a golden opportunity.
No one had spoken for a while, too desperate to put that lab as far behind them as possible. Talking would only use up valuable energy.
Cleo finally came to a halt and doubled over, placing both paws on her knees. Harlequin was forced to stop, pausing two feet ahead and glaring back at Cleo. Mischief and Spark didn’t quite get the message, continuing on for a little while until they realised Cleo and Harlequin were no longer following them.
“Come on!” Harlequin gasped between breaths. “Do you want them to find us?”
“Give me a moment,” Cleo hissed. “I need to gather my bearings.”
It was true. She had no idea where they were. They’d long since lost the river, and this area of the forest was alien to her. She was at a loss as to where they were headed, be it the Glen or somewhere else, and the last thing she wanted was to waltz right into any more danger.
Spark flopped to her bottom and sighed. “Well I’m all for a short break anyway. I need to refuel.”
“I hate to disappoint you, Spark, but we’re still without our bag.” Cleo shrugged and stood up straight to look around. “And there are no berry trees around here.”
“At least we got rid of those poisons,” said Spark. “Do you think they were flammable?”
Harlequin gave a dry laugh. “Some of them were explosive.”
A chill ran down Cleo’s spine and she glanced back the way they’d come. “Then let’s be glad we got out of there in time.” She rubbed her arm and looked around again, her heart sinking. Not only did they have no supplies, she’d also lost her map. And without her map it was safe to say they were well and truly lost.
“So what do we do?” Mischief asked. “It’s getting dark, so do we camp in the open or carry on more slowly?”
Harlequin puffed out their chest. “I’m all for camping here if I’m honest.”
“Oh no!” Spark pointed a claw at the zorua. “I’m not falling for that one! What do you take us for?”
Harlequin grinned widely. “Fools.”
“A fool wouldn’t have got us out of that burning lab,” said Spark.
Harlequin glared over her shoulder at Cleo. “A fool wouldn’t have got us into it in the first place.”
Spark’s whiskers sputtered but she bit her tongue and slumped, too exhausted to argue.
Cleo smoothed out her ruff and met Harlequin’s glare. “I didn’t get us captured, Harlequin. It was an unfortunate experience, but now we’re out, and we need to find shelter.”
Harlequin’s ruff bristled and they lowered their head, letting out a low snarl. But they didn’t retort. Like the rest of them, Harlequin was visibly exhausted.
Cleo surveyed their surroundings and instinctively reached for where she expected her satchel to be. No tent. No cover. The only shelter she could see were a few thorny bushes void of any berries, and several clumps of ferns that would have only just hidden Spark.
“And if not?” Mischief asked as he strolled on ahead.
“Then…” Cleo shrugged weakly, ”we’ll just have to hope we can hold out until sunrise.”
Harlequin trudged along behind, muttering under their breath.
This area of the forest was thickly covered by a tangle of branches, occasionally raining down a stray brown leaf. At the best of times it would have been dark, but the sun was swiftly setting, and before long the forest would be shrouded in black. Their paws crunched over the thick debris, seeming awfully loud in the quiet forest.
Cleo found herself watching Mischief. He’d not said a single thing about the lab since they’d left, but the experience was still with him. His demeanour had altered significantly since they’d first met. He seemed more… distant. Of course, it was understandable. He’d just discovered he’d formerly belonged to an evil organisation, and had spent his life as a test subject, infected with some horrible virus that gave him violent bouts of madness and memory loss.
And to make things worse, he knew Cleo and Spark had kept all that from him.
Cleo grit her teeth. If she’d found out all that about herself she’d be devastated. In all fairness, Mischief seemed to be handling it quite well.
Or maybe this was just the calm before the storm?
A soft rustle came from above them and Cleo froze, scanning the branches. Something black hopped along the branches, moving with the familiar jerky motions of a bird pokemon.
Cleo licked her lips and searched around for somewhere to hide. Everywhere was covered with shadows, and it was becoming difficult to see anything that may be lurking. But it also meant that they themselves were covered with shadows. There was every possibility that the murkrow hadn’t seen them, but it was very rare to see one alone. They usually travelled in flocks.
Cleo scanned the canopy, trying to spot any more murkrow, but all that remained were large leaves twitching in the breeze.
No… they weren’t leaves.
Her heart froze and she instinctively crouched lower to the ground. Spark inched into the shelter of a curling fern, while Mischief tried to spot what it was that had unsettled his friends.
Cleo took a step sideways, motioning for Mischief to follow her. She tiptoed off the path and into the thick of the trees. With less wing-space the murkrow would be less inclined to give chase.
Everyone seemed to be following her, until there was a sharp tug at her bracelet. It was followed by a dramatic yell and a loud snapping of twigs as Harlequin threw themselves to the ground. It sounded like an explosion in the drawn-out silence.
Cleo’s heart froze as everything seemed to go in slow-motion. The murkrow rose from the canopy like a black cloud, turning their wicked red eyes onto the Outcasts. Their shrill caws exploded through the treetops, and they spread their wings, darting down towards them, twisting through the branches with amazing agility as if they’d been trained by a hunting bird of prey.
Cleo bolted, dropping to all-fours as she scurried through the undergrowth. Spark fell behind, her electricity lighting up the forest. Jerky, feathered shadows danced over the trees, large and terrifying. The murkrow cried, their caws cut off as Spark’s electricity shot through their hollow bones and brought them to the ground.
Mischief ran on ahead, straight towards the murkrow that tried to intersect them. They met his dazzling attack and dropped like flies. Those that got through raked at Cleo’s fur and ears in their bid to rescue Harlequin. The meowstic retaliated with her claws, swatting two or three murkrow into the undergrowth. Thankfully the bracelet didn’t hamper her movements. Harlequin tried to act as a dead weight, flailing their limbs and crying out as Cleo dragged the assassin mercilessly behind. The zorua was dragged over the fallen bodies of the murkrow, sharp claws and beaks digging into their shaggy coat. Harlequin’s cries morphed into wails of pain, falling on deaf ears. Cleo wasn’t about to slow down for the zorua. If she did, she’d be at the mercy of those wicked beaks.
Cleo silently thanked her encounter with Mischief. If it weren’t for him then both her and Spark would be finished against a flock that size.
Spark at the back, Mischief at the front, their attacks lit up the forest and eradicated the murkrow en-mass. Mischief’s fur was marred with scratches, and creamy tufts drifted from his body, raked up by sharp talons. Those caught in the fluffy tufts slowed as they tried to dislodge it becoming viable targets for Spark, or careened blindly into the nearest tree where they lay in a crumpled heap.
The light from Spark’s discharge bounced off a huge stone wall ahead of them, blanketed in green ivy. Cleo clenched her teeth and turned her head to look for a way past it, but it stretched away on either side. She was about to call for Mischief to go to their left, but her words were cut off as she watched him vanish through the ivy.
She picked up her pace and followed after him. As Spark’s discharge lit up the wall a second time, Cleo could just make out where Mischief had vanished to. Beyond the ivy blanket was a narrow gap, and Cleo wasted no time in following after him. The rough stone scraped at her fur as she wriggled through. Behind her, the forest lit up with one flash of electricity after the next. Beyond the wall was serene in comparison. As if it were a different world entirely.
Harlequin wailed as they were dragged up against the wall. They flailed as they tried to right themselves, having no choice but to follow through or be crushed against the cold stone. The zorua tried to drag themselves through, their face smooshed up by the stone. Harlequin’s fur was a mangled mess of leaves, twigs and feathers, and marred with blood. Their own or the murkrows’s, Cleo wasn’t certain
Spark appeared between the zorua’s ears and leapt off, landing between Cleo and Mischief. Harlequin managed to drag themselves the rest of the way through and stood leering at Cleo, their canines poking out from their black lips.
Cleo turned away to survey the area. It was deathly quiet, and it took a moment for her to realise the murkrow hadn’t followed them. Had they won? Had all the murkrow been picked off, or had those that survived fled?
“They’ve not followed us?” Spark asked quietly.
The dedenne stood on tiptoes, twitching her nose at the air.
Cleo stood stock still, staring at the sky above the wall. Not a single bird in sight.
“Then let’s count it as a blessing,” she said, just as quietly. “Come on, before they decide to follow us.”
As Cleo looked around again, she found that statement easier said than done. She had absolutely no idea where they were, but it was safe to say they weren’t in the forest anymore. They stood in a wide square surrounded by a high stone wall that went on for acres. Standing just to the right of them was a huge building made of the same grey stone. It sported a flat roof trimmed with crenellations, and at one end stood a tall tower with a cone-shaped roof. Cleo thought she could just make out a bell hanging inside it.
Nature had tried to reclaim the whole area. The plants were severely overgrown, wild rose bushes that had gone out of control dominated what looked like a former flower bed, and what Cleo thought might be honeysuckle fought a losing war with the ivy. The grass grew up to Cleo’s waist, although around the very edge of the wall it was significantly taller. At some point, a tree had grown at an odd angle, bursting through the surrounding wall to her left, where its branches draped down like a waterfall. Bits of rubble lay scattered around it, dressed with a thick green moss. Even the building was decked out with ivy which trailed down its walls and obscured the narrow windows.
“What is this place?”
It was Mischief who’d spoken, voicing the very question each of them was thinking.
“I…” Cleo scratched her ear as she looked up at the abandoned building. “I think it used to be an abbey.”
She ventured towards the building for a closer look, keeping a wary eye open for the murkrow.
“Really?” said Spark. “I’ve only heard about them in stories. I didn’t think they actually existed.”
“Well from the looks of this building, it’s ancient.” Cleo trailed a paw over its cold stone surface, scared that it might fall down at any second. The smell of moss and rot rose up from it, the latter indicating there was wood somewhere in its structure.
“I kinda wanna go inside,” said Spark by her feet. “The explorer in me is tingling with excitement!”
‘Go inside…’ Cleo gazed up at the windows as the thought warred with her conscience. They’d been searching for shelter, and this could very well provide that. A place where they could hide safe from the prying eyes of the Darkness. But there was always a chance that Hydreigon’s forces had beaten them to it. But somehow, as scary as it looked, it didn’t feel threatening. She wanted to go inside, to have a look around, and find some clue as to what this place once was.
“If we go in,” she said slowly, “then we must be prepared to fight.”
“Fight?” Harlequin spat. “If you fight in there, the whole building might come down!”
“Good,” said Cleo. “That means if any of your friends are lurking inside, they might leave us alone. Come on, we need to find a way in.”
She followed the wall along, trailing a paw along the cold stone. They eventually reached a curtain of climbing ivy about half way along it. Cleo’s claws brushed against damp wood, and she yanked the ivy aside to reveal a door. Her muzzle split into a grin and she tore the ivy away from it. The door was tall enough to allow a much bigger pokemon inside, and arched at the top. The stone around it was ornamental, forming a pattern like the sun’s rays from the top of the doorway.
“There’s only one problem,” said Spark. “There’s no doorknob.”
Cleo scanned her eyes over the door and felt her heart sink. Spark was right. The door seemed impossible to open. The only way in was through a narrow slat at eye level, much too narrow for Spark to wriggle through.
“It looks like this place had some level of security, then,” said Cleo, glancing up at the crenellations along the roof. “Maybe there’s a doorknob on the other side?”
“Should we knock?” There was a thick overtone of sarcasm behind Harlequin’s voice.
Cleo shot the zorua a glare, but Mischief cleared his throat to draw her attention.
The whimsicott stood beside the door, holding back a stiff wiry plant. “There’s a hole here.”
Cleo joined his side and peered over his shoulder. A hole had formed in the wall where the stone had eroded away from the wood. It followed the curve of the door, narrowing out into a crack. It wasn’t enough to pull the door free, and the stone wasn’t crumbling enough to make the hole any bigger. Not that Cleo wanted to. If they found a way inside, then any pursuing Darkness would be stuck in the courtyard, as stumped as she currently was.
“Spark might fit,” she said.
“Really?” Harlequin smirked at the dedenne. “So her puny size does come in use at times?”
“Oi!” Spark shook her tiny fist. “You’ve felt my electricity already, so unless you want another zapping-”
“Spark, take it as a compliment,” said Cleo. “Out of all of us, you are the smallest, and unlike us, you could fit through there and see if there’s a way to let us in.”
“I suppose,” said Spark, hopping up onto Cleo’s shoulder for a better view of the hole. “I mean, you lot are clearly too big.”
“Bet you can’t reach the doorknob though,” said Harlequin.
“Good.” Harlequin puffed out their ruff. “‘cos I intended it.”
Mischief waved a paw to get their attention. “Why don’t I do it?”
“You?” they all gasped.
He shrugged. “Sure. I can get through there, and I’d be able to reach the doorknob if there is one. And it stops you three arguing.”
“But you’re taller than Cleo!” Spark gasped.
Mischief shrugged again and turned towards the hole. He shimmied up beside it, wriggling one arm through. Much to their surprise, the rest of his body followed, distorting and twisting like a soft jelly. Before long, he was inside, leaving a small cloud of wispy fur behind him.
Spark’s nose crinkled and she ducked inside Cleo’s ruff. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or weirded out…”
They waited in silence as a small click came from the door and it opened towards them. It caught over the tangle of ivy and overgrown grass, which peeled back to reveal a stone path. The moonlight reflected off Mischief’s orange eyes, and he beamed out at them from the shadows.
“It’s peaceful in here,” he said.
He stood aside to let Cleo in, and Spark bailed off her shoulder to land on all-fours. Harlequin trailed in last, and Mischief shut the door behind them.
Spark sniffed the air, then promptly sneezed. The small noise bounced off the walls of the entrance hall, amplifying it exceptionally.
“Wow,” she said, her voice echoing. “It’s dusty in here!”
“Yes, and damp, too,” said Harlequin. “Not very good for your health, really, is it?”
Cleo ignored the zorua’s comment and narrowed her eyes to peer at what she thought was a door in the far wall. “Spark, do you think you could light it up a bit?”
“Sure!” With a flash, the dedenne’s body lit up with electricity, causing the other three to shield their eyes from the sudden bright light. “Wow! Look at this place!”
Cleo blinked dazzling spots from her eyes and looked around in silent awe. Stone trees were carved out of the walls, their branches arcing up overhead where they met the rays of the sun. Various flying-type pokemon flocked the sky, their beaks open with song. Between the trees stood narrow windows, curtained with ivy. They would have once lit up the room with natural light. The door was shrouded by a heavy red curtain, blotched with black mildew and rotting at the edges, its former job to keep the room free from drafts rendered moot. It covered most of the hole, but every so often the breeze found it and whistled through into the hallway.
Stretched along the left side wall was a huge tapestry, ornately decorated around the rim with golden thread. It was that which caught Cleo’s eye, drawing her across the room towards it. It was a faded image of a glorious meadow with pokemon frolicking among the wildflowers. What struck Cleo the most was the variety of pokemon, all happily playing together. Eevee, pikachu and espurr running with poochyena, bagon and axew; a gardevoir and altaria sitting under a tree, sharing drinks with a shuppet; a miltank reading to a group of hatchlings - pichu, oshawott, zorua, dreepy… to name a few. The immense tapestry was filled with pokemon from every type filling the skies, the ground, the streams…
Right at the back of the tapestry was a tall hill, and standing atop it was a pokemon Cleo had never seen before. A stag who’s antlers radiated light. He appeared to be watching over the meadow and the pokemon in his care.
“Whoa!” Spark gasped. “You wouldn’t find that in this day and age, would you?”
Cleo shook her head sadly. She wasn’t even sure such a day had ever existed. The places she knew, all the forests, meadows, streams… they were empty. The only pokemon in them were those fleeing or travelling to find safety, or the Darkness looking for those they hadn’t killed yet.
“I don’t recognise that pokemon in the back, either,” said Spark.
“So many species have been lost,” said Cleo, tracing a paw over a snowy white vulpix. “There are a few in this tapestry I have never seen before.”
Mischief took a step closer to her, his eyes not leaving the tapestry. “Is this… Is this what life used to be like?”
“I think that’s open to debate,” said Cleo. “I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never known a life like this. Spark and I were born during the tail-end of the war.”
“Yup,” said Spark. “All we know is division and hostility. You won’t find many psychic-type pokemon left alive anymore, let alone gardevoir. They were one of the first to be wiped out. And the idea of being friends with dragon- and dark-type pokemon? That’s nothing more than idealistic fantasy.”
Harlequin scoffed. “There are divisions among those too, you know. You’re just to blind to see it.”
“Blind?!” shouted Spark.
Cleo stood between Spark and Harlequin before the dedenne turned into a sparking canon-ball. Harlequin’s blue eyes were livid, glaring right past Cleo at the dedenne.
“Don’t make me laugh,” Spark went on. “Aren’t you dark-types part of Hydreigon’s ‘perfect plan’ for this world?” She sounded each those words with disgust, sending Harlequin’s hackles on end.
“Spark’s right,” said Cleo. “Hydreigon’s ‘ideal’ has no place for us. What do the dark-types have to fear?”
“Weren’t you listening to that meowstic Heretic?!” Harlequin spat. “He told you about the outlaws! Oh wait…”
Cleo’s eyes narrowed as the zorua bared their canines.
“You pretend they don’t exist,” Harlequin finished.
“I don’t know enough about them to pretend they don’t exist,” said Cleo flatly.
“But you don’t acknowledge them at all!” Harlequin barked. “Outlaws are rebels! They went against Hydreigon and were driven from the Shadow Lands.” The zorua smirked at the surprise on Cleo’s face. “Of course, you wouldn’t know about that, because you’re too wrapped up in your own Guild affairs, protecting those that fall under your own little category. Your own ‘ideal world’. You talk about the war and how some pokemon have been pushed to extinction, but you fail to realise the same thing is happening in the Shadow Lands! Families and friendships have been fractured, pushing some pokemon to live outside the walls and hide in the borders from those sent to mop up the rebels. They have no one to turn to because they’re not welcome on Guild territory! And why? Because they’re dark- and dragon-types! Idealistic fantasy indeed…” Harlequin snorted. “What you’re clearly too blind to see is that in the Shadow Lands it’s either obey, run for your life, or die!”
The other three pokemon stood staring at the zorua. Harlequin’s breaths were coming in quick bursts as they tried to repress built-up hysteria.
“Then…” Spark ventured. “Then why don’t you just run?”
Harlequin’s eyes flashed sapphire flames. “Because then I’d be living like you! Terrified, jumping at every little shadow, hiding all the time! I might be a zorua, but using illusion is tiring. I can’t disguise myself indefinitely. And unlike you, I look different to others of my kind. I stand out!” They looked back up at the tapestry then tore their eyes away, moving past Cleo. “An ideal world… it’s just some artist’s fantasy. Not even worth latching onto.”
The others exchanged glances.
“We hadn’t,” said Spark.
“It’s fiction, okay?!” Harlequin snapped. They turned their head away, hiding their face. “Just… shut up.”
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Harlequin stood with their head lowered, canines bared, silently warring with some inner turmoil.
Cleo nodded once. “Okay. We won’t talk about it.”
Spark looked up at her and twitched her whiskers. “Are we going to continue looking around this place?”
“Of course,” said Cleo. “I want to learn what this place once was. I think I saw a door just over there.” She pointed a paw towards the back of the entrance hall, still shrouded with shadows. As Spark inched towards it, her light danced over the ornate wooden surface.
Carved into the thick, heavy wood was a an ‘X’, the top part of which was designed to resemble the horns of a stag. Three altaria surrounded it, flying gracefully, their faces jovial and beaks open in song. The door was designed to part down the middle, and the design met flawlessly on either side.
“What is this place?” Spark gasped.
Cleo didn’t hesitate. She gave the doors a confident shove. Both sides swung away from her, creaking on their hinges with an ear-splitting shriek. Cleo braced herself, but the room on the other side was as empty as the hallway. Although, from the layout, it wasn’t meant to be. Leading away from them was a long reed mat that stretched the length of the room towards an ornate window at the far end. The window arced above a wooden podium like a rainbow, and would have cast an array of colours into the room during a bright day. It had long since cracked as roots had wound their way inside to claim any moisture they could find. Its design was almost unrecognisable, marred by leaves that clung to the jagged bits of coloured glass. Beneath it was a large image of the stag they’d seen in the entrance hall.
On either side of the reed mat were rows of dusty cushions that at some time would have been blue and yellow. Cleo strolled along the mat, her eyes fixed on the walls. Yet more tapestries adorned them, laid out like the pages of a story. They lacked words, but the images were clear enough. They depicted a war, where in the first section hundreds of pokemon fled from a huge red and black bird. Or was it a dragon? Cleo couldn’t quite tell. On either side of the unusual pokemon were some that Cleo recognised. Pidgeot, druddigon, zoroark… all flying-, dragon- and dark-type pokemon.
Those that fled were struck by an ominous beam that glowed red and black like the creature that fired it. Pokemon touched by it were petrified, standing like stone statues while others desperately tried to get away.
Further along, some of those who had fled tried to reason with the bird-dragon. They were taken into its ranks, and furthered the war under its control. They helped to spread its reign, kidnapping pokemon that fought against them and letting the evil creature turn them to stone. But a few managed to escape, fleeing across a meadow.
Some of the escapees were touched by light. Standing before them was a stag, the same pokemon Cleo had seen throughout the ruined abbey. The escapees’ demeanour changed, and they were now able to fight off their pursuers. They utilised a strange glowing attack, not dissimilar to the one Mischief used. The bird-dragon’s soldiers crumpled.
The stag amassed an army of light, gifting many of his followers with strange stones that allowed the holder to change form. He lead the army against the bird-dragon, and they cleaved through his army with their glittering moves and extra strength. Many fell, but some were touched by the light and drawn away from the evil pokemon. They joined the stag’s ranks and in turn gained glittering moves and new forms.
The bird-dragon was furious. It lashed out against its own army, turning those not dragon, bird or dark into stone. This seemed to be a means to increase its strength, as it began to turn even more shadowy, spreading an unusual darkness around it.
The stag’s light penetrated it, driving it back. His army was able to reach the bird-dragon and his remaining forces.
The final piece of the tapestry showed the stag driving his horns into the bird-dragon’s torso. The shadows exploded with glittering lights that spread out from the duo like fireworks. Beneath it were the only words on the tapestry:
‘Yvel is defeated by the X’
Cleo’s eye wandered from it towards the painting beneath the window. It was framed with gold, and beneath the picture was engraved a word she assumed was the pokemon’s name - Xerneas.
The opposite wall sported another tapestry that showed different stages of Estellis being filled with light. The stone statues were melted away, returning the pokemon to their normal selves. Each picture showed more and more pokemon playing together, their varieties increasing as the tapestry moved away towards the double doors. Xerneas watched over the pokemon in each one, situated on a hilltop or standing amongst the smiling pokemon. In one image, some of the pokemon were crying, sitting in his light or holding onto his legs. Most of those being dark-, dragon- or flying-types. Pokemon that had turned away from the bird-dragon. But Xerneas didn’t appear upset. He smiled warmly at them, welcoming.
The final image was very similar to the one adorning the entrance hall.
Cleo couldn’t deny she found the tapestries moving. But what was it? Was it a true story? A history that had long been forgotten? Or a legend the pokemon that lived here had clung to? Whatever the case, it stirred something in Cleo. Was there actually hope that Hydreigon could be defeated, and the world could return to what was depicted in those tapestries?
“Is he real?”
Mischief’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him.
“Xerneas?” Mischief explained. “Is he real?”
Cleo turned back to the tapestries, suddenly aware she’d been wondering the exact same thing.
“I dunno,” said Spark. “But it’s nice to think about, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps that’s all it is,” said Cleo as she surveyed the room. “Pokemon clinging onto hope. But… he’s everywhere. Surely they couldn’t have just… made him up? I’ve never heard of either of these pokemon before, but I find it hard to believe there’s nothing behind it. The stories are so detailed, and this place feels… peaceful somehow.” She paused as she looked up at the roots reaching in through the window. “I actually think… it hasn’t been attacked.”
“Then what happened to the pokemon that lived here?” Mischief asked.
Cleo shook her head, unable to answer. What had happened to them? It had clearly once been very much occupied if the number of cushions was anything to go by. And the size of the place… the huge courtyard… where had everyone gone?
“Maybe we’ll find answers if we have more of a look around?” She motioned for Mischief to follow her, then paused beside Harlequin.
The zorua stood in the middle of the reed mat, turning their head left and right between the two tapestries. Their mouth hung open in disbelief and their pupils had been reduced to pinpricks.
“Is it familiar to you?” Cleo ventured.
Harlequin licked their lips and tucked their tail further between their legs. “No.”
Cleo gave another glance at the war story. It had been a long-shot. Harlequin’s reaction was nothing more than confusion and fear. But there had to be some evidence that it was all real.
She trailed her eyes along the story again, all desire to continue exploring forgotten. The bird-dragon claiming his army. Those fleeing and meeting Xerneas. His gifts to them… Cleo’s heart lurched and she scurried closer to the tapestry, almost stumbling over the dusty cushions.
The stones, those transformations.
Her jaw went slack and she pointed a claw towards it. “We’ve seen something like this!”
Mischief and Spark ventured closer, and Cleo turned her head back to Harlequin. The zorua still stood in the same spot, head lowered, blue eyes reluctantly turning towards where Cleo was pointing.
A gardevoir wore around her neck a strange, round stone. Clear, with a curl of colour winding up its centre. Light radiated off her body, warping her appearance drastically.
“Harlequin,” Cleo said, trying to draw the zorua closer. “You had something like this stone-”
Harlequin’s eyes widened and their ears pricked upright. They turned their nose to their side then snapped their focus onto Cleo. A long whine left the zorua’s throat and their canines poked out of their lips in a strange, repressed aggression.
“No! No, I’ve lost it!” Harlequin narrowed their eyes at Cleo. “No… You lost it!” Their ears pulled back and they lowered their head, tears leaking from their eyes. “It was all I had left and now it’s gone!”
Cleo looked from the zorua back to the tapestry and lowered her claw. She’d foolishly thought Harlequin might have been a little more excited, but the image clearly didn’t mean the same to the zorua as it did to Cleo. Harlequin had possessed an unusual item, one that had sparked interest. No one knew anything about it, and here it was being portrayed in a tapestry. There was always the possibility that it was just a legend like the story itself, but if that strange orb did indeed possess unknown powers, then it was key to discovering if this story was actually true.
And they’d lost it.
She looked back at Harlequin and her ears drooped slightly. Silent tears trailed down the zorua’s scrunched-up face. That item that had sparked such a ferocious reaction from Harlequin… was really nothing more than a memento? The zorua really knew nothing of what it actually was?
If these pictures did have any truth behind them, then that stone was a lot more valuable than Harlequin thought it was.
“Do you really not know what that stone is?” Cleo ventured.
Harlequin’s eyes snapped open, flashing with rage. They flew from Cleo to the tapestry, and the sapphire flames ebbed away. Harlequin’s sides heaved as they panted for breath, eyes flitting over the images of that strange transformation. They took one step back and clenched their lips tight together, shaking their head.
Cleo nodded sadly and moved from the room. The others fell in step beside her, and much to her surprise, Mischief had regained that sprightly spring in his step.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” he said.
“Xerneas?” Cleo asked.
Mischief nodded and glanced back towards the painting. “To defeat such an evil foe and fill the world with light? Yeah, he’s really amazing.”
A small smile tugged at Cleo’s lips and she paused to let Mischief skip ahead of her with Spark lighting the way. For a moment, Cleo thought she was the last to leave. But the soft tug at her wrist urged Harlequin from their stationery spot on the reed mat.
...
It had taken them a while to search the entire abbey. Room upon room spread along the wide hallways, each wall adorned with paintings and sculptures. Some of the paintings had been of pokemon that had lived there, or, as Cleo guessed, served as the abbot. A lot of them were pokemon none of them recognised, amid others they did such as a snubbull and raichu.
As they settled down in one of the rooms, Harlequin stood in the middle of it silently.
“The hay is a bit stale,” said Cleo. “But I think this room will do.”
“I don’t need any hay.” Mischief yawned and flopped onto his back. “You three can have it if you want.”
“No,” said Harlequin, drawing everyone’s attention. “I want to leave.”
“Why?” asked Spark with some distaste. “Because none of your cronies can find you here?”
Harlequin wasn’t looking at them. They stared at the floor between their paws, their tail tucked between their legs. Cleo watched the zorua for a moment, then turned to the hay she was separating.
Something had unsettled Harlequin, but Cleo knew no matter how much she pried she wouldn’t get an answer out of the zorua.
“Let’s just rest here tonight,” said Cleo, “and we can be off first thing after sunrise.”
Spark’s stomach groaned with a volume that far exceeded her size. “Maybe we can find some berries, too.”
“I second that,” said Mischief.
“Who’ll take first watch?” Cleo asked.
“I will,” said Spark. “I’ll only be grumpy if someone wakes me.”
“Don’t fall asleep on us, okay?”
“No promises.”
Harlequin watched the meowstic curl up as far from the zorua as she could safely get, keeping a good distance from Mischief as well. Spark fell to her bottom at Cleo’s feet and sneezed as a cloud of dust rose up around her.
Harlequin muttered under their breath and gave another glance around the room. A narrow window was the only source of light and air, and the ivy draped through it to pool on the floor, forming a mat of green and brown. Harlequin flopped onto it and tucked their nose under their tail.
Sleep wouldn’t come. How could they sleep in this place?
A soft snore came from the trio and Harlequin cracked an eye open. Spark sat hunched over, her head nodding and whiskers twitching. Harlequin tutted and set their chin between their paws. Easy prey.
Not that they could do anything.
The zorua rolled their eyes towards the ceiling. A huge sun was carved into it, stretching its rays down towards the room. Altaria drifted around it, and emblazoned in the middle of the sun was that familiar X.
Harlequin’s chest tightened and they pushed themselves to their feet. Oh, to get out of this place.
Their heart raced as their mind swirled with the images from that tapestry. An image of confusion that made Harlequin want to flee.
The Darkness… that light… Light that could drive it back.
A soft breeze drifted through the window, drawing the zorua towards it. They stood on their hind feet and placed both forepaws on the damp windowsill. A floral smell tickled Harlequin’s nose and they leant forwards to peer through the ivy.
Zorua had fantastic night vision. The courtyard stood out clearly, the long blades of grass drifting in the breeze. That floral smell wafted up on Harlequin’s left and they turned their head towards it. The long grass parted as something moved through them. Something tall, with long graceful movements. Flowers sprouted up wherever it trod, leaving a trail of colour through the overgrown courtyard.
It stopped and turned its head towards Harlequin, its large antlers framed with a light that chased away the shadows.
A stag.
No sooner had Harlequin recognised him, the pokemon faded from view.
But he’d been there. Harlequin hadn’t imagined it. The spray of flowers and flattened grass marked the path the stag had taken.
Harlequin’s breath came out in a feeble squeak and they slid from the window to land in a crumpled heap on the musty floor.
Standing just to the right of them was a huge building made of the same grey stone. It sported a flat roof trimmed with crenellations, and at one end stood a tall tower with a cone-shaped roof. Cleo thought she could just make out a bell hanging inside it.
Since you're continuing a same sentence (evidenced by the lowercase 'c,') you'd want to replace the first two periods with commas.
Mischief shrugged again and turned towards the hole. He shimmied up beside it, wriggling one arm through. Much to their surprise, the rest of his body followed, distorting and twisting like a soft jelly. Before long, he was inside, leaving a small cloud of wispy fur behind him.
Oof. Harlequin dropped quite an emotion bomb--I wasn't expecting to see this from them! Looks like they acknowledge just how hard life is in the Shadow Lands and view the Guild as having wonky morals. I like getting a look at different character views on moralities and societies.
Hmmm is this story of Pokemon fleeing Yveltal and coming under Xerneas's protection what your one-shot (that you originally wrote for the Myths and Legends contest) referring to? And is this depiction of the battle between Yveltan and Xerneas also supposed to be a tie-in to Christianity?
Also getting some Chronicles of Narnia vibes with the characters discussing whether or not Xerneas was real :P
A gardevoir wore around her neck a strange, round stone. Clear, with a curl of colour winding up its centre. Light radiated off her body, warping her appearance drastically.
“Harlequin,” Cleo said, trying to draw the zorua closer. “You had something like this stone-”
That floral smell wafted up on Harlequin’s left and they turned their head towards it. The long grass parted as something moved through them. Something tall, with long graceful movements. Flowers sprouted up wherever it trod, leaving a trail of colour through the overgrown courtyard.
It stopped and turned its head towards Harlequin, its large antlers framed with a light that chased away the shadows.
This was a great chapter! I love exploring ruins and finding out history and more about secrets of the past. I'm guessing the Orb that the zorua had either prevented Pokemon from being turned into stone by Yveltal or kept them safe from its darkness. But I suppose we'll see! Thanks for posting! :D
Hey, thanks for reading! =D I do like writing Enigma's scenes. It's funny how he's one of my favourite characters to write, given how sadistic and twisted he is! But I also love writing Spark, so I won't question my sanity just yet! XD And you're all still yet to meet one of my all-time favourite characters in this story...
I did a little research into this, and from what I can gather 'forward/forwards' are used interchangeably. I think the latter is more common in England. I'll bare this in mind and look into it some more.
Thanks for pointing out the other mistakes. I'll fix them asap!
Oof. Harlequin dropped quite an emotion bomb--I wasn't expecting to see this from them! Looks like they acknowledge just how hard life is in the Shadow Lands and view the Guild as having wonky morals. I like getting a look at different character views on moralities and societies.
Harlequin is quite deep! I've been looking into the Shadow Lands more with this write-up. Prior to that, you only got insights from those who work there, like Harlequin's declaration here. So a lot more is uncovered this time around!
Hmmm is this story of Pokemon fleeing Yveltal and coming under Xerneas's protection what your one-shot (that you originally wrote for the Myths and Legends contest) referring to? And is this depiction of the battle between Yveltan and Xerneas also supposed to be a tie-in to Christianity?
You are spot on! Yes, the war between Xerneas and Yveltal is echoing Christianity =D As for the Myths and Legends one-shot, I've rewritten that too based on feedback. So I'll be posting that again here in a couple of weeks' time ;)
As for Narnia, I've honestly not read it ^^; I've been meaning to, and I even have the audio books, but argh, my reading list is HUGE! I recall half-watching the movie years ago, but I can't say whether it's inspired me here. A lot of character reactions are meant to be realistic as to how various individuals might react when told the news about Jesus. Mischief questions it in a very hopeful manner, Harlequin is outright terrified and confused, and Cleo and Spark are a bit 'well it would be nice, but look at the world now!' It doesn't end there, either. As the story progresses, every character reacts in their own way!
20 - Run
The Heretics scattered through what remained of their little town. Buildings blazed as flames consumed the wooden walls and thatched roofs. Winged shadows flitted about, dancing erratically over the rocky ground and hilltops. Screams filled the air, drumming against large ears as they warred with the high chirrups of the bat-like pokemon.
Echo shouted his commands, directing his swarm as they broke off, dropping burning branches onto the buildings that were yet to be destroyed. The Heretics didn’t put up much of a fight. They knew they were in a losing battle. Their numbers were too few, and they had too many hatchlings to care for. The females had fled first, leaving the males behind to fight the noibat swarm. They fell quickly. Too many wings, claws and jaws to deal with. It had been pathetic, really.
Echo circled the largest building in the town. The one that he didn’t want destroyed. It had stood out to him, being the only one built from stone. It reeked of dust, and the windows had been blocked up with flimsy wooden planks that had begun to rot around the iron thorns holding them in place. Trickles of rust ran down them, washed there by years of rain. The Heretics clearly didn’t use it.
He had lead his swarm through three towns and villages before they’d found any hint of a library. This was the closest he’d come across, and he had a strong feeling it was what they were looking for.
The noibat swarm had chased what remained of the Heretics away, and Echo screeched out another command to part the swarm, sending a sizable number after them. Those that remained doubled back to join him, led by Rumble.
Echo dropped down to the ground, scrabbling on all-fours as he surveyed the walls and door for some way inside. The painted sign above the door was hard to read, faded from years and years of rain and sun. But it vaguely signalled that the building was indeed a library, or had been at some time. Had the Heretics boarded it up? Or had the Outcasts? If Echo were to guess, it would have been done to prevent the Darkness having somewhere to hide in their town. It had probably also been completely emptied, but he wasn’t going to pass up a chance like that. If it was empty, he had a terrible feeling that it would take them ages to find another. Where else was he meant to find a book about the cocoon?
He lifted his head, keeping both eyes on the door before him. Huge planks of wood were nailed across it, preventing any means for them to open it without blasting through with their attacks. And that would probably destroy any information that was situated too close to the door.
“I need you all to circle this place,” he said. “Find some way-”
The swarm flew into a panic and blades of wind skimmed his ears. It was followed by a grunt, and Echo was caught in a tight, hairy grip. His assailant bowled over him, and Echo dug his canines into a thick, shaggy neck. He lashed out with his wings and claws, drawing a pained roar from his assailant. The pair tumbled along the ground, each one trying to get the upper claw. The rest of the swarm rose up in a frenzy, ceasing their attacks for fear of catching their leader. All but one.
Rumble swooped down towards them, raking his claws along the larger pokemon’s back. A blade of air followed, ripping up bloody fur. The large pokemon lashed out with one arm, knocking the noibat from the air. It was all the break Echo needed.
He tore free and opened his mouth wide, letting out a terrible screech. It amplified in his large ears, blowing the slaking away from him. The rest of the swarm swooped in, tearing at the Heretic while his guard was down. The sloth pokemon’s cries soon ceased, and he fell into a motionless heap, his lips pulled back in an eternal sneer.
Echo stood hunched, his wings draped at his sides. He tried to catch his breath, to say something. But a sudden shock of pain spread down his spine and he dropped to the floor with a cry. The swarm rose into the air in a panic, but it soon stilled. They settled beneath the thatched roof of the library or circled in the sky, keeping a watchful eye on their downed captain.
The pain was only brief, but it felt like it lasted an eternity. Echo pushed himself back up on his wing-claws, trembling. A long tail swept through the dust behind him and he craned his neck back to examine it. His lips curled up in a smirk and he stood up taller. So he’d finally evolved?
He turned his eyes onto his swarm who were eyeing him with admiration. They then returned to their duty, rising up in a cloud and sweeping around the library to find an entry point. Something shuffled behind him and he turned sharply towards the slaking. Surely he wasn’t still alive? Echo’s wings drooped as he spotted another noivern standing over it, nudging the fallen pokemon with his foot. The dragon pokemon met Echo’s eyes and a glimmer of amusement crossed his inferior’s face.
Rumble…
Echo’s entire body trembled with rage and he launched himself at the other noivern, ramming him up against a wooden wall. He wrapped his fangs around Rumble’s neck, drawing a frightened squeak from the other dragon. Flames crackled around them both, and embers trickled down from the blazing thatch roof.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Echo’s voice came out muffled by Rumble’s fur. “There’s only meant to be one noivern in this swarm, and it’s me!”
Rumble flailed his wings as he struggled away, but Echo tightened his grip on his throat.
“Boomer never chose a successor!” Rumble choked.
Echo released the other noivern, and Rumble ducked away from him. He hunched over, cowering behind his wing as Echo towered over him, wings spread. Orange light danced over his dark fur, and his shadow drowned Rumble, making Echo look a lot bigger than he actually was.
Echo bared his bloody canines. “He was going to choose me.”
A few excited shrieks came from the library, and Echo turned his head towards it. Noibat exploded from one of the windows, now void of its rotten barrier. Two of them carried something in their talons, their wings catching on one another as they struggled to carry it towards him. They dropped the book at his feet and one of them swept back beneath the library’s roof. The other stood beside the book, winding his claws together.
Echo grabbed the book in his wing talons and scanned the worn cover. It wasn’t damp, despite the library’s exterior. The writing was somewhat archaic, but he could make out the title; ‘Legends of Estellis’.
“This is just a book of hatchling tales,” he muttered.
The small noibat nodded and raised a claw. “But it does have a picture of a cocoon near the end.”
Echo raised an eyebrow at the noibat and flicked the book open at the end. It was mostly pictures, laced with text that was much too archaic for him to read. But from the looks of things it was a children’s story. The last two pages depicted a black dragon being overcome by light, reducing it to a strange, jagged cocoon. The final page showed the cold season drawing in, and the cocoon lying amid a bed of snow.
“That’s all well and good,” Echo grumbled. “But it tells us nothing of where it is! If anything, it only makes me wonder if this is nothing more than a mere myth!”
He dropped the book back to the floor, and the noibat skittered backwards before it landed on his head.
“Search inside for some more information!” Echo commanded, stirring the swarm into action. “Anything! I don’t want to have to continue this tedious search for a library!”
The smaller bat cleared his throat and wound his claws together, looking between the book and his leader. “But the snow… doesn’t that… mean it could be somewhere cold?”
“Most of Estellis gets covered in snow during the cold season,” Echo grumbled. “This could be nothing more than artistic symbolism.”
“All but the south.” Rumble’s voice was hoarse and he rubbed his bloodied throat with his claws.
Echo fixed him with a sneer, but then a cruel idea lit up in his mind. He gave the other noivern a wicked grin and straightened, causing Rumble to flinch back from him.
“So that rules out the south then,” said Echo. “What about the north? What if our fabled cocoon is buried somewhere at the very top of Estellis?””
“The Shadow Lands?” Rumble glanced away from him briefly. Only briefly, fearing a blind attack. “But we’ve already looked there.”
“No. Further north.” Echo waved a wing in the vague direction of the Shadow Lands. “Where it snows.”
“The Shadow Mountain Peaks?” Rumble gasped.
Echo’s grin broadened. “For starters.”
Rumble gulped. “But it’s too close to the Ice Continent. We’d freeze!”
Echo shrugged his wings. “Not if you find the cocoon first.”
Rumble stood up straighter and gave Echo a dumbfounded look. “Me?”
“You want to lead this swarm so badly,” said Echo. “So you take half and search the Shadow Mountain Peaks. I’ll take the other half to search other areas prone to snow. The Rolling Hills, for example.”
“Why should I go north?” Rumble scoffed. “You’re the leader, so you take the frozen places!”
“Oh, so I’m the leader now?” Echo took a step closer to Rumble so they were nose to nose. Rumble cowered back from him, trembling. “You’ve always tried to one-up me, Rumble. If you’re so desperate to prove you’re better than me, then you’ll go to those mountains. Maybe even head all the way to the Ice Continent?”
Rumble gulped audibly at that suggestion.
Echo stood back, letting Rumble right himself.
Rumble shook out his wings and flashed a canine. “All right then. But if I find that cocoon, I take leadership.”
Echo gave him an unfriendly grin. “Fine by me.”
Rumble turned to address the swarm. “Half of you, with me!”
The swarm hesitated, chattering among themselves under their breath. A few popped up in the library’s open window, squinting out at Rumble as he tried to stand taller than their leader.
Echo cut before Rumble and sneered at the noibat swarm. “Half of you are to go with Rumble! Now choose among yourselves, or I’ll choose for you!”
The swarm rose into chaos, flocking into the sky. Every other noibat broke away, going in opposite directions. One flocked around Rumble, and the noivern lead his half of the swarm away from the burning village.
Echo turned to look down at the noibat still by his feet, clutching the book in his wings. “You. Follow him. And if he discovers so much as a rumour on this cocoon’s location, report back to me immediately.”
The noibat saluted and took off after Rumble, blending into the swarm.
...
Harbinger was beginning to question his sanity.
Something had called out to him in that burning Heretic building. A nagging voice. Something tearing at his conscience. Something he seriously didn’t understand.
He raced through the shadows of the trees, clutching two bags in his jaws by the straps. They thumped against his chest as he bounded through the trees with Scratch and Claw in tow. One of the bags sported a Guild badge, the other had a horrid sharp toxic scent to it. He knew they belonged to those pokemon he saw the Heretics capture. They’d left without them during the panic. He’d assumed they belonged to the meowstic and whimsicott, but he’d assumed wrongly. That deadly scent belonged to none other than that zorua. The one they had in their custody.
His lips curled back with disgust and he choked on that rotten smell. The desire to drop them both and forget about them warred in his mind, sparring against whatever was urging him on. A deep feeling that he must return them. It confused him greatly. The scent of the pokemon they belonged to was fading beyond the smell of various poisons, but it was still there. Not washed away by rain… yet.
Scratch and Claw said nothing, not wanting to probe the absol. A wise move. He didn’t have any answer for them. He didn’t even have one for himself. But deep down, buried in his confusion, was the burning fear that what he was doing could only result in disaster.
Or that if he didn’t do it, the disaster would be even greater…
...
Cleo stepped out into the courtyard and stretched, letting the sun warm her fur. The abbey had provided a safe place to sleep, sheltered from the outside. But it hadn’t been warm. Drafts had swept in from the open window, and whistled through cracks in the mortar. She’d huddled together with Spark and Mischief for warmth, while Harlequin had curled up into a tight ball beneath the window.
Spark raised her paws above her head until her spine gave a little pop. “Ahh! I slept like a log!” She licked her lips and stood on tiptoe to stare across the courtyard. “I could really use some breakfast now, though.”
“I think we all could,” said Cleo rubbing her stomach. “But unfortunately we’re still without our supplies.”
Spark deflated and her tail hung limp behind her. “Don’t remind my stomach of such a fate!” She paused and looked over her shoulder at Harlequin. “What? No nasty retort?”
The zorua wasn’t listening. They pawed at the fallen leaves, uncovering a spray of colourful flowers. A sweet perfume rose up from them with every sweep of the zorua’s paw.
Spark twitched her nose at them as she cautiously approached the zorua. “They’re wildflowers.”
“I know what they are,” Harlequin scoffed. “It’s just, they weren’t here yesterday.”
“Flowers do that,” said Spark bluntly. “They pop up out of nowhere, splashing the world with brilliant colour!” The dedenne beamed with delight. “I love flowers. They’re so spontaneous.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that it’s almost the cold season?”
Spark shrugged and hopped up onto Cleo’s shoulder. “Maybe they’re a late blooming variety?”
“I find that hard to believe.” Harlequin followed them across the courtyard. “It’s been much too cold for flowers recently.”
“We’re more south than your home, Harlequin,” Spark went on. “I’ve seen flowers in the cold season before now.”
“Oh look!” Mischief pointed a paw towards a slender tree growing by the wall ahead of them. “Berries!”
With that, he was gone, drifting up into the branches. Cleo and Spark blinked with bewilderment. Adorning the branches were hundreds of red baubles glistening in the sun.
“Okay.” Harlequin sat down beside Cleo and fixed a blue eye on Spark. The zorua’s voice wavered slightly. “Cheri berries this time of year? Tell me that isn’t strange.”
“All right fine. You’ve got me there.” Spark watched Mischief drift down to the floor to set the berries beneath the tree. “But I’m not gonna turn my nose up at them! This girl’s hungry and cheri berries are my favourite!”
Spark shot from Cleo’s shoulder, leaving the meowstic and zorua to stare gob-smacked at the rapidly growing pile of cheris.
Cleo raised a paw. “Wait, Spark!”
The dedenne paused with a berry hovering by her wide-open mouth. She swivelled her eyes towards Cleo and her ears drooped.
Cleo turned to Harlequin and motioned towards the berries. “I think you should go first.”
Harlequin’s lips curled back from their canines and the fur rose along their hackles. But when Cleo didn’t back down, Harlequin sighed and shook their head before moving towards the berries. The assassin gave them a quick sniff then snatched one up, swallowing it in two bites.
“They’re fine,” Harlequin mumbled before selecting another. “Great, actually.”
Cleo nodded at Spark, and the dedenne tucked into her chosen berry with relish.
Cleo joined them beside Mischief. The berries were perfectly ripe, a delicious surprise at this time of year. Cleo found herself wondering why the tree had them, especially so many, while the days were growing shorter and colder. But, like Spark, she wasn’t going to decline a good meal.
Once they’d had their fill, they searched the wall for a way out, not wanting to go back the way they’d come perchance the murkrow were still lurking. They came across an iron gate standing amid crumbling stone. The ivy had grown down around it, tangling through the ornate iron bars. Once the ivy was torn free, it took both Cleo and Mischief to shove it open. Small fragments of stone broke free from around it, raining down around them. The gate creaked loudly on its hinges, protesting at the sudden effort to be opened after many years.
Beyond the gate was a huge overgrown plain stretching off on all sides. Not quite a moor or a meadow, but something in between. Cleo blinked with surprise. She’d been expecting to see the forest continuing on, but this side of the abbey was like a whole new world. She’d never heard of it, let alone seen it. Without her map, she had no idea of working out where they even were.
The grass grew up to her waist, masking the stone path that lead from the gate. The cool stone on her paws was the only indication it was there. Berry trees and bushes poked through the meadow in a uniform fashion, their branches bare of any fruit. The razz and rawst bushes had gone out of control, tangling their way through the grass as they sought to overtake it.
“This looks like it once served as the abbey’s orchard,” said Cleo.
“Yeah.” Spark stretched her neck out of Cleo’s ruff for a better look. “Imagine what it must look like when it’s in season?”
“One can only imagine,” said Cleo. “It makes me question that cheri tree even more.”
Harlequin shuffled beside them and glanced back at the abbey gate.
As curious as Cleo was about Harlequin’s uncertainty, she didn’t question it. Keeping her ears open, Cleo pressed on through the grass, her feet snagging over an unseen wiry plant that seemed insistent on weaving its way through the grass. Every now and then she spotted it poking up over the grass before vanishing back beyond the blades. The stems were sticky, and bristly green burrs clung to her fur whenever she passed it. She tried to swiped them off, but they only took over her paw instead, leaving her to bite them free and spit them back into the grass. After a while, she gave up.
“I’m going to miss that abbey,” said Mischief sadly. “It felt welcoming and safe.”
Spark nodded. “Despite falling to bits, it did feel oddly safe.”
“I liked the stories,” Mischief went on. “They made the world feel a little less dark for a while.”
Cleo turned her head to look back at him. He trailed behind Harlequin out of harm’s way, but he hadn’t lost the spring in his step. Cleo felt a little lighter, and she wondered if he’d forgiven her for keeping back what she knew about him.
She turned back to where they were heading and focused on moving forward. As safe as the abbey seemed, this was an open grassland. There were less places to hide. In the dark it would be a whole lot more dangerous than within the trees.
Something caught her eye to her right and she looked up in time to see something large arcing through the air towards them.
“Scatter!” she yelped.
The group split off in all directions as whatever it was landed right where she’d been standing with a thump. Harlequin groaned and flipped themselves back onto their feet. Cleo pushed herself up and turned towards the object.
Bags… two of them. She did a small double-take. They couldn’t be, surely?
Mischief was the first to examine them. He held up the strap of one and looked up at Cleo.
“I think this is yours,” he said. “It has a Guild badge.”
Cleo took it gingerly and flipped it open. Inside was a selection of berries, slightly bruised; the stone she’d taken off Harlequin; all her gold, and her rolled-up map. Nothing had been touched.
Wait… if this was her bag, then-!
She dropped it and stood up straight, turning towards Harlequin. The zorua was two feet away from her, snarling at Mischief. The whimsicott stood just out of reach with the other bag hanging from his shoulder. Cleo hadn’t seen or heard anything go down between the two, but at least Mischief had thought faster than she had.
Spark tutted as she frowned at Harlequin’s bag. “I thought we’d lost that in the fire, but no! We just can’t get rid of the ruddy thing!”
Cleo let out a sigh of relief and gathered her own belongings. “I thought the fire would have destroyed it, at least.” She paused as she double-checked the contents of her bag. “It looks like everything is still in here.”
Harlequin’s ear twitched back towards her and the zorua turned to address Cleo.
“So?” said Harlequin. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Cleo asked.
“My pendant!”
“Oh.” Cleo tapped her satchel, hesitating.
This only served to rile Harlequin further. The zorua took a step towards her, both ears pricked upright and trained on the meowstic.
“I want to know it’s alright,” Harlequin growled. “Now show me!”
Cleo met the zorua’s striking blue eyes and they narrowed menacingly. Sharp canines poked from between black lips, and the fur bristled along the fox-like pokemon’s spine.
“You enjoy this, don’t you?!” Harlequin hissed. “Just give it back to me!”
Cleo stared back at the seething zorua, and a low growl formed in the back of Harlequin’s throat. That strange pendant… why did it cause the zorua to react in such a way? When Harlequin had realised it had gone missing, they’d despaired. Those words… ‘It was all I had left.’
When Cleo had fled her home, all she’d had was Spark. No memento of her family. Just memories of them. Some fond, some terrifying as they dropped her from a burning window to flee. Memories of howling flames burning up her home.
Then there was Harlequin, clutching onto a strange stone with some unknown, personal meaning. Was it really just a memento?
Cleo slipped her paw into her bag and dragged the stone out, letting it hang from her paw on its black thong. The sunlight reflected off its clear surface, showcasing the black and white coil within it. Harlequin’s eyes immediately snapped to it, flashing blue flames. The zorua lunged towards Cleo, fastening their jaws around the gold ring that held the orb in place. Cleo let the string slide through her claws to hang limply from Harlequin’s jaws.
The rage melted from Harlequin’s face as confusion took over, and the stone hit the grass with a soft thud. The zorua looked between the stone and Cleo a few times before finally asking, “You’re giving it back?”
Cleo shrugged. “It’s yours, and it clearly means a lot to you.”
“Yes…” Harlequin looked back down at it and placed a paw over the clear stone. “It does.”
The zorua gave Cleo a cautious look then stooped to grab the thong in their jaws. They weaved their snout through it and the pendant hung down over their ruff, almost hidden in the thick, shaggy fur.
Harlequin looked away from her and mumbled, “Thank you.”
Cleo felt a jolt of surprise, and beside her Spark choked on a berry she’d scavenged from their bag.
Cleo popped the dedenne back on her shoulder and glanced down at the fidgeting zorua. “You’re welcome.”
The meowstic cast another look around at the wide open plain. Far ahead of them stood a row of trees, marking the entrance to another stretch of woodland. How dense it was, Cleo couldn’t tell from where they were. But it was as good a destination as any. She pressed on towards it, and a tug came from her bangle as Harlequin was forced to fall in step, lagging along behind them. They walked in silence for a while, their paws snagging on the snaking goosegrass as it wound its invisible path through the grass.
“I really don’t know what it is.” Harlequin’s voice broke the silence and Cleo glanced down at them.
The zorua walked at her side, their head held low.
“The orb,” Harlequin went on. “I don’t know what it is. It’s just a keep-sake. It belonged to a friend, so I keep it for memories. But if it’s special like those pictures showed, I’ve no idea.”
“That must be nice,” said Mischief. “I don’t have anything like that. Not even memories.”
Harlequin opened their mouth to reply, but whatever it was died on their tongue. The zorua’s ears twitched and they turned to look back as a conflicted look crossed their face. A strange combination of elation and terror. The former faded too quickly, and they took on a defencive posture - forelegs spread and head held low, ears trained on something in the distance. Prepared to fight or flee.
Cleo followed the zorua’s eyes as they wandered across the wide plain, searching for something unseen. Then Cleo heard it. A soft jingling just audible over the rustling grass. She’d never heard it herself before, but all Guild members needed to be aware of such a sound since it meant only one thing.
Enigma.
Cleo’s heart began to race. Ordinarily the wise thing to do when being pursued by an assassin would be to flee. But flee where? Enigma was no ordinary assassin. Nothing that cast a shadow was safe. The trees, buildings… Cleo’s eye wandered down to her own shadow, stretching back towards the abbey. Her entire mouth turned dry.
She twisted and turned, looking for somewhere - anywhere - to hide. But ghost-types were notorious. A solid object was no barrier. Currently their only option was to spot his movement then they’d turn and run the other way.
“Well, what do you know.” The voice was like velvet, almost a purr. One that chilled Cleo straight to the very core. “I found you.”
She turned her head slowly, back towards the orchard. Leaning against an oran tree, grinning like a cheshire cat, was a banette. He folded his arms across a heavy, black scarf and inclined his head on one side.
“Four little pokemon out in the open with nowhere to hide.” A strange, playful glint reflected in his crimson eyes. “You make this too easy for me.”
“What? Four?” Harlequin’s ears drooped slightly. “Enigma, you’ve got the wrong idea! I’m not with them!”
“Really?” Enigma’s grin dissolved and he leered at the zorua. “Then what exactly are you doing, Harle? Leading them to Hydreigon?” He waved a paw towards the distant trees. “Because you’re going the wrong way.”
“You don’t understand!” Harlequin barked. “I’m not with them by choice!”
Enigma raised an eyebrow, and a fleeting thought crossed Cleo’s mind. Say nothing. If he believes Harlequin is with them and takes them out, then that’s just one less assassin to worry about. Let the zorua be a distraction.
But Cleo’s mouth had other ideas, and she found herself saying, “We don’t care for your presence either, Harlequin.”
“Not remotely!” added Spark.
Enigma looked up at the dedenne perched on Cleo’s shoulder.
“She’s felt my electricity enough times already due to her stinking attitude!” Spark continued, a little too proudly.
Harlequin shot the dedenne a glare.
Enigma returned to the zorua and a smirk tugged at his lips. “Yet you’ve stuck by them all this way?”
“They forced me to!” Harlequin yelled. “It’s this stinking collar-”
“Excuses.”
Harlequin sank slightly and bared their canines.
This was it. While the pair were distracted, Cleo and her friends had their chance. Enigma was a ghost-type, which meant unlike most of the Darkness he didn’t resist her psychic attacks. She, however, was weak against his attacks. She had to time this carefully.
“They really have captured me,” Harlequin explained. “They’re dragging me along. I haven’t been able to escape.”
Enigma’s shoulders rose with a sigh.
“Come on, Enigma!” Harlequin went on. “You should know me better than this! We’ve been friends for years!”
Enigma’s eyes flashed and he pushed back from the tree. “Enough!”
Harlequin leapt back a step and their ears swivelled back.
The banette chuckled and hid his face in a paw. “You’re delusional. Whatever made you think we were friends?”
Harlequin’s jaw dropped as they stuttered over a reply. Their blue eyes were wet with tears which they tried to blink back.
Enigma lowered his paw to continue jabbing at the zorua, the Outcasts seemingly ignored.
Cleo decided to take the chance. She unfurled her ears, but her psychic bubble imploded on thin air. Searing pain shot up her back as Enigma leapt out from the shadows behind her.
“Cleo!” Spark shouted.
The dedenne left her shoulder in a streak of electricity. Spark’s whiskers crackled and she aimed a thunderbolt at the banette. Mischief pirouetted away from the ghost, sending an energy ball towards him. Enigma melted back into Cleo’s shadow, and the two attacks collided where he’d been standing.
Spark yelped as he erupted from the ground below her, raking her with his claws. He followed it up with a flick of the wrist, and a shadow ball exploded off her tiny body. The dedenne rolled away into the grass, out of sight.
Cleo wailed, stretching out a paw towards her companion. She tried to stand, but her back complained with the effort. One of Mischief’s energy balls soared past her ears to explode against a pecha tree, tearing away the bark. Cleo managed to stagger to her feet, her ears humming. She turned towards the battle, and Enigma, noticing her back on her feet, leapt backwards from her and tossed a shadow ball, striking her in the stomach at point-blank range. Cleo landed hard on her back with a grunt. She felt a heavy weight land on top of her, and she opened her eyes to find the banette grinning down at her. Her arms were pinned to the floor by his knees, and he let out a sinister chuckle.
“I’ve always been told there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” he purred, examining his claws. “I wonder how many there are, really? I mean, I was only told to bring the whimsicott back alive, so I might as well experiment a little.”
Cleo’s heart leapt into her throat, and psychic energy hummed in her ears. She unfurled them, but Enigma was fast. He grabbed both her ears and held them shut, blocking her attack. Cleo flinched and her eyes widened as the hum intensified, reverberating throughout her head. Each pulsing hum caused her head to throb with pain. A loud, feline wail left her throat and she tried to wriggle free as her entire body flew into a blind panic.
He released her suddenly, and her ears flew open, sending an explosion of psychic energy into the air that missed Enigma by a hair’s breadth. Enigma lurched back from her as two brown arms latched around his shoulders. The banette turned translucent and slipped free, pirouetting and lashing with his claws. Mischief skipped back from him, nimbly dodging, but he didn’t take his eyes off the assassin. The whimsicott’s expression was livid. His paws lit up green and he flicked them at Enigma. The banette vanished into the ground, and Mischief’s energy ball soared harmlessly through the air where he’d been standing. The whimsicott turned his eyes to the floor to try and spot the assassin, and a yell left his throat as Enigma leapt up behind him. But Mischief didn’t fall. He followed the banette with his strange trademark flurry of dazzling light. Enigma strafed aside just in time and launched a shadow ball at the whimsicott, bowling Mischief head over tail into a tangle of brambles.
No… they were dropping like flies. At this rate…
Cleo readied a psychic attack, but her head pulsed with the effort. She placed a paw beneath her right ear and staggered sideways into a tree. Enigma’s eyes lit up with amusement, and he flicked his paw, sending another shadow ball her way. Cleo didn’t have the strength to dodge. It struck her in the stomach and she crumpled into the grass.
Enigma turned to Harlequin and all amusement left his face. The zorua took a step back. They’d watched the whole thing unfold, not sure where to go or how to act. Harlequin cast a glance around at the fallen Outcasts then turned to run away, but as soon as the zorua reached the end of their confines their back feet raced out from beneath them and they landed flat on their back.
In an instant Enigma was on Harlequin, pinning the zorua to the floor.
“Enigma, no!” Harlequin wailed, kicking out with their back legs. “I’m not your enemy!”
Enigma’s claws wound into the thick ruff around Harlequin’s neck, and the zorua’s eyes turned frantic. Harlequin opened their mouth to fire a dark pulse, failing. Instead, they let out a desperate wail.
“Get off me!”
Harlequin landed three consecutive kicks to Enigma’s gut, and the banette grunted. But he didn’t fall back. Instead, he latched onto the collar with his claws and tugged, jerking Harlequin’s head from the grass.
Harlequin’s frantic eyes snapped open, fixing on his. “Wh-what are you doing? Let me go!”
The zorua struck him with another kick, and Enigma flinched. He gave the zorua’s collar a firm shake, drawing their eyes back to his.
“Cut that out! I’m trying to free you!” Enigma spat as he twisted the collar in his paws. His face distorted with confusion and he gave the collar another hefty tug.
Harlequin yelped as they were once again yanked from the floor. “You can’t. Only the meowstic can remove it.”
Enigma tutted and cast the unconscious Cleo a sideways glance.
“Then brace yourself, Harle.” Enigma released the zorua and stood back. His claws radiated an eerie shadowy energy and he stared down at Harlequin. “I’m going to have to destroy it.”
Harlequin screwed their eyes shut, bracing themselves for the inevitable impact.
A shrill shriek rent the air and Harlequin snapped their eyes back open as a fuzzy cannonball collided with Enigma’s back. The pair went soaring overhead, landing with a thud in the long grass. Harlequin flipped themselves onto their feet and stared in horror as Mischief pinned Enigma to the floor, beating at him with his paws. Enigma tried to wrestle the maniacal whimsicott off, but the grass-type fought back, an unmoving force that seemed oblivious to Enigma’s raking, shadowy claws. If anything, the attacks only made Mischief more insistent.
“No!” Harlequin cried. “Get off him! Leave him alone!”
Enigma grabbed Mischief by the horns and dragged him sideways. The pair rolled through the grass until Mischief took control once more. He let out an explosion of high-pitched, maniacal laughter and continued his assault. Enigma’s last-ditch effort was to reduce his density and slip away.
But it failed.
He was trapped beneath the crazed whimsicott’s body.
Harlequin shook their head slowly, taking a step towards them. The collar tugged and Harlequin swore under their breath. They turned back towards the fallen meowstic and closed their eyes briefly.
“Oi! Get up!” Harlequin demanded, rushing to Cleo’s side. “He’s going to kill him!”
No response. Harlequin’s cries had fallen on deaf ears. Harlequin turned and ran in the direction they’d seen Spark fall, but once again they were forced to stop, and Harlequin almost landed flat on their face.
“Spark!” Harlequin wailed. “Get up! Paralyse him! Do something!”
Harlequin lifted their head towards the battle. Mischief still had the upper paw, laughing with each strike of his bloody paws. Enigma flailed helplessly, weakly.
He was giving up.
Harlequin leapt back to their feet and raced back towards Cleo, tears stinging their eyes.
“Cleo!” Harlequin gasped, coming to a stop by the meowstic’s head. “Do something! Help him!”
Cleo didn’t so much as twitch a whisker.
Harlequin sat heavily, closing their blue eyes. Tears trickled over their black fur. “Please… I can’t lose him too…”
A flash of light made Harlequin look back up. Cleo lay propped on one elbow, her ears unfurled and humming with energy. Mischief wailed with protest as he hovered several feet above Enigma’s beaten body.
Enigma pushed himself up, grimacing with the effort, and looked between the frantic whimsicott and Cleo’s glowing eyes.
Cleo took a deep, steadying breath and met the banette’s confused stare. “Run.”
Enigma pushed himself to his feet, and with one last look at the enraged whimsicott, he turned and ran. After a few feet, he vanished into thin air.
Cleo knew she couldn’t hold Mischief for long. Her strength was rapidly failing. She waited a few more seconds until all strength left her, and she flopped back to the ground, her head spinning.
An enraged shriek spread across the grasslands as Cleo lost consciousness.
...
Harbinger had watched everything.
His plan had been to move around the edge of the plain, keeping his nose on Harlequin’s trail. He’d expected all of them to lose to Enigma. He hadn’t expected the whimsicott to fly into a blind fury. Nor had he expected Enigma to come out of that alive. For some reason, the meowstic had spared the assassin. In his state, he’d be easy to pick off.
But now the whimsicott had its eyes on its allies. An enraged, screeching ball of fury.
There was madness in its eyes. Madness Harbinger recognised. It was the same as that tyranitar. Project B.
Harbinger recalled Rio’s words. A desire to make a start on ‘Project C’. The whimsicott.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to free all those captives? He hadn’t expected them to pose this level of threat.
The zorua stood between the meowstic and the crazed pokemon, baring their canines. An unmoving barrier, bristling with fear and rage.
So the zorua was willing to give their live for an Outcast? Giving one’s life at all was noble for an assassin. But this?
Surely the zorua would die, and then the whimsicott would be free to savage those who called him a friend. Harbinger could not allow that. The thought of the whimsicott killing Harlequin before Harbinger had the chance made his blood boil.
So far, from what Harbinger had seen, the whimsicott was still in control of its faculties. If the madness would wear off like it had previously, then all it needed was a little distraction.
Harbinger bared his own canines and crept through the tall grass towards the group. His paws made barely a sound over the grass, not that he could have been heard over the racket. Once he was within range, Harbinger opened his jaws and fired a dark pulse right at the back of the whimsicott’s head.
The enraged pokemon twisted his neck towards Harbinger. The absol made sure he was spotted and bolted, drawing the whimsicott away from the Outcasts and the unfortunate assassin.
Whether or not Harlequin had seen him, he’d deal with that later. For now, he had to outrun the crazed pokemon hot on his tail.
A/N - I am so excited to post this, you have no idea. My heart is legit racing.
This story is a rewrite of a Pokemon fanfiction I wrote five years ago called The End. I was pretty stoked at its reception, especially on Serebii's fanfiction forums. However, over the past few years, I feel my writing skills have improved somewhat. This story is pretty special to me, and the concept of rewriting it wouldn't leave my mind. So, I decided to give it a go while my main Sonic 'fic is on hold due to current events. I'm nineteen chapters deep atm, and I've been enjoying rewriting this. I've taken criticism and comments on the old version (as well as taking into consideration comments I've had on more recent works) and been smoothing out the plot, refining areas, and making the main plot-line clearer from the start. I hope everyone reading - those who read the original and those new to this story - will enjoy what I've done here. Please bare in mind that this was originally written during Generation 6 (X and Y), but I've tried to sprinkle in some newer pokemon here and there.
One such comment was concerning the handling of Harlequin's unusual situation. I would like to make it clear from the start that they do indeed have a gender, and their mysterious ambiguity is tied into their own personal plot and backstory.
Blurb: In a world ruled by a wicked hydreigon, the pokemon have been split into groups: Outcasts, Heretics and Darkness. Two Outcasts - a meowstic called Cleo and her small dedenne companion Spark - stumble upon an odd discovery. Something that gives the Outcasts a little hope. Hope that the Darkness will one day be defeated, and pokemon can live in peace once more.
But this discovery comes at a cost. It sends two of Hydreigon's best assassins after them. What unfolds next is a roller-coaster of events that throw our heroes right into the epic battle between good and evil.
(Disclaimer covers the entire story - Pokemon and its characters are (c) Nintendo, Game Freak etc)
Important note to reviewers and readers - Chapter One has been edited and re-posted due to feedback on tone change. All reviews posted before 03/08/2020 will be referring to the original chapter. I've taken feedback on board and improved it for what I hope will be a better reading experience. The 'fun' feeling that was influenced by Slayers and JRPGs has been kept in, while also maintaining the dark overtones of the later parts of the chapter. I hope! XD Happy reading!
Part 1 - Calamity
1 - A World Shrouded in Darkness
Barely a sound rose from the shadows cast by the trees as the setting sun stretched its dwindling rays through the canopy of the winding woods. Just the soft sound of crunching leaves and brittle twigs as Cleo trudged through the undergrowth, keeping her wits about her as any sensible meowstic should. Every confident step was soft and calculated to avoid drawing attention from the wood’s inhabitants, which were few and far between.
A disgruntled groan came from the long fur around her shoulders, followed by the tiny head of a dedenne. “I’d give my whiskers for a berry.”
“Not far now,” Cleo told her companion. “We’ll be at the Guild before sundown.”
“My poor stomach thinks you might be wrong.”
“Your poor stomach will just have to trust me.”
Cleo was no stranger to the Winding Woods, but as the sun rapidly disappeared over the horizon, it was beginning to look less and less familiar. Not to mention her night vision wasn’t exactly her strong suit. As night drew closer, dangers increased. Assassins or soldiers of the Darkness could be lurking anywhere in the shadows. She tapped her satchel, briefly considering drawing her map and deciding against it. There was no sense in risking a distraction, putting both her and Spark in danger. They just had to keep following the path, or what she could see of it beneath its thick coating of rusty, fallen leaves.
“Oh! Oh!” Spark covered her mouth with both paws, alarmed at the volume of her own voice.
The pair turned their heads left and right, ears swivelling back and forth. Silence.
Spark settled back into Cleo’s fur and pointed, keeping her voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “I can see daylight!”
A trickle of light leaked through the trees ahead of them, marking the end of the path and their trek through the woods. Spark wriggled with barely contained glee.
The leaves rustled above them, and Cleo turned her eyes to the canopy, her relief cut short. She felt Spark sink back into her fur, and the dedenne let out a small groan. Branches bucked and swayed as three lithe figures scrambled across them, crimson eyes trained on the two Guild Warriors below.
“That’s great, Spark,” Cleo said, fighting a half-smile. “But your excitement seems to have attracted some unwanted guests.”
“Well, well, well.” One of the three weavile crouched in the branches above them and grinned down. “I spy… with my little eye… two sitting duckletts.”
“Outcasts, too, by the looks of things.” Another fixed his eyes on the sun-shaped badge pinned to Cleo’s satchel strap. “Pretty bold of you to be out in the woods during sunset, eh, kitty?”
Cleo released her bag strap to ball her paws into fists. It wasn’t unusual for assassins to poke jibes at their targets. But things could turn very nasty in the blink of an eye. Psychic energy hummed in her ears. An impulse.
“What do you say, boys?” said the smallest of the trio. “Make it quick, or have some fun?”
“I dunno,” said the first. “It’s been a bit of a slow day.”
Cleo bared a canine. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do to weavile at this range. She felt Spark shift on her shoulder and the dedenne’s fur puffed out.
“You three have picked a bad day to start with us.” Spark shook her tiny fist. “I’ll have you know I’m hungry! And I’m not very nice when I’m hungry. So get down here so I can kick your feathery butts all the way back to the Shadow Lands!”
The first weavile blinked his large eyes in mock bewilderment. “Hear that, boys? The tiny little rat thinks she can kick our feathery butts!”
He rolled his head back and laughed, joined by the other two.
One of them smacked his knee repeatedly. “Big words from such a tiny rodent!” he wheezed.
“What did you just call me?” Spark dived off Cleo’s shoulder and rose up to her full five-inches of height. “Are you making fun of my size?!”
This only served to make the weavile laugh even harder. The boss pointed a sharp claw vaguely in her direction. His eyes streamed with tears and he had to grip the branch with his other paw before he fell clean from it.
“Please!” he squeaked. “You’re slaying me!”
Not the wisest of words. Cleo took a step back, not from the weavile, but because Spark was beginning to radiate static. Cleo knew what was coming next.
A blinding flash lit up the trees, wiping the smirks clean off the weavile troop’s faces. One by one, the weasel pokemon flopped from the canopy to land in a sprawl in the undergrowth. Their bodies sparked and jerked as electricity danced across their limbs.
Spark placed her paws on her hips and tapped her tiny foot. “Who’s laughing now?”
Cleo rejoined her friend’s side and shook her head slowly. “Couldn’t you have gone a little easier on them?”
Spark quirked an eyebrow at her. “This coming from the meowstic who just laid waste to an army of jangmo-o?”
Cleo shrugged her shoulders. “They had it coming.”
“So did these,” said Spark. “Funny though. Hydreigon’s goons can be mouthy, but they usually just attack us. These guys were all bark and no bite.”
Cleo rubbed the fur between her ears. Spark had a point. The dedenne had a short fuse, but Cleo had expected more of a challenge from the weavile. Her eyes trailed back up to the branches and squinted into the shadows.
“Let’s see what they’ve got on them, then, eh?” Spark rubbed her paws together. “Keep an eye open in case there’s more.” She promptly vanished inside the head weavile’s bag.
Cleo stood beside the bag, watching Spark’s tail swish back and forth while keeping her ears trained on their surroundings. It was likely there was no further threat, given no one came to the weaviles’ aide, but one didn’t take risks when the sun was setting.
“Dang it!” came Spark’s muffled voice. “No berries.”
“Is there any gold?” Cleo ventured.
“Oh, there’s loads of that.”
Spark kicked out with her back feet, sending small gold coins rolling across the leaves. Cleo gathered them up and dumped them into her bag.
“And… and this.” Spark waddled from the satchel struggling beneath the weight of a glass vial. “Dunno what it is. Do we take it?”
Cleo took it in one paw and turned it in the light. It was filled with florescent pink liquid. “What is it? Pecha juice?”
Spark grimaced and twitched her whiskers. “Looks a little too… toxic… to be pecha juice.”
“That might just be the bad lighting.” Cleo popped it into her bag and stood up. “Maybe Tinker will have some idea.”
“Yeah, he knows all kindsa weird stuff.”
With Spark back on her shoulder, Cleo headed towards the light ahead of them before it faded with the setting sun. The woods were rapidly growing darker, stretching shadows far back away from them.
When they finally stepped out onto cool, damp grass, the dwindling light was almost blinding after the darkness of the woods. Cleo had to narrow her eyes to get a good sense of her surroundings. The stretch of grass ended at a low, stone wall. What it had once been, Cleo had no idea, but it stretched away to either side, vanishing over the hills. It was possible to walk around, but vaulting it was much quicker.
Just beyond that was a sprawl of wooden buildings. Not permanent dwellings, but those thrown up in haste by pokemon who were often on the move. They would stay here for a season or two, maybe even more if things stayed quiet. Some of the dwellings weren’t exactly buildings, however. Instead, they were wooden carts with taupe over the tops to keep the rain out. Cleo had seen them many times. They were dragged by strong pokemon, and were designed so those that inhabited them could make a quick getaway. Not every pokemon had warmed to the idea. Too many had been seen being blown away in storms, or dragged away by the Darkness. At least wooden shacks stayed where they were, were easy enough to throw up and tear down if need be, and would even last long enough to be returned to should such times arise.
“Stop!”
Cleo lifted her head as a meinfoo rushed towards her. He sported the same sun-shaped badge she wore on her satchel’s strap, indicating he was a member of the Outcasts Guild.
“I’ve not seen you before,” he said. “Where have you come from? What business do you have?”
“We’re travelling warriors.” Cleo motioned to her badge. “We’re hoping to stop by the Guild overnight before we continue our way south.”
“We?” The meinfoo looked past her, standing on tiptoes to see back towards the woods.
“Yes, ‘we’.” Spark poked her head out of Cleo’s ruff, drawing a surprised ‘oh!’ from the guard. “And we’re both very hungry, so if you wouldn’t mind?”
The meinfoo nodded and stood aside. “Of course. The Guild Hall is just that way, in the centre of town. You can’t miss it.”
“Much appreciated!” Spark promptly vanished back inside Cleo’s ruff.
Cleo nodded her thanks to the guard, but as she headed away, something nagged in her mind. “Ah!”
He turned to face her.
“There are three weavile in the woods,” she explained. “They’re only stunned. You might want to apprehend them, find out what they’re doing here.”
The meinfoo sighed and ran a paw down his muzzle. “It was only a matter of time.” He straightened, returning to his professional air. “Thank you. We’ll get on that right away.”
Cleo nodded again and trotted through the town, searching out the familiar banner that marked the Guild. The white flag with its sun emblem waved above the rooftops, a beacon to all who were searching for the Guild for help or work.
“Whew!” Spark declared as they entered the door. “Well, I don’t know about you, Cleo, but I’m heading straight to that dinner hall.”
Cleo absently rubbed her belly. Their rations had run out the previous night, and she was beginning to resonate with her friend’s large appetite. “I might join you.”
As they followed the Guild occupants down the corridor towards the sweet smells emanating from the kitchen, the small crowd parted and a riolu trotted towards them. Tinker, the Outcast Guild’s current leader.
“Cleo!” he said as a smile split his muzzle. “I was actually growing worried. You were expected two days ago.”
“We got caught up.” Cleo paused as the riolu stopped before her. “We actually need to talk to you.”
“Now?” Spark sprawled forwards on Cleo’s shoulder. “Can’t we do this after supper? I’m starting to feel faint.”
Cleo rolled her eyes. “Please excuse her. Food has been a little scarce.”
“Well, dinner is about to start, so feel free-,” said Tinker.
Spark didn’t even wait for the sentence to end. She darted from Cleo’s shoulder and zipped through the crowd, with nothing more than a quick ‘thanks!’ before she vanished amid the masses.
Tinker rubbed the back of his head as he watched after her. “Food scarcity is becoming a growing problem with the cold season closing in. There’s not much left out there for travelling pokemon, as most of it has been harvested before the frost comes.” He turned back to Cleo and met her eyes. “Be sure to take some supplies with you before you leave.”
“I was planning on stocking up.” Cleo kept pace with him as they followed the other pokemon towards the kitchen. “Are you sure you have enough stocks to spare here?”
“We have plenty. It was a good year for the orchard, not to mention the wild fruit and roots growing in the woods. With fewer pokemon living nearby, we didn’t have much competition.”
When they arrived at the dinner hall, Tinker kept moving past it. Cleo faltered in the doorway, and gave a glance inside. Spark was perched on the table, piling up a plate twice her size with a variety of delights.
“Are you wanting to stop here first?” Tinker asked with a hint of impatience. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss your previous mission in there. There are a lot of… local refugees who’ve joined us here. And I fear discussing such matters might upset them.”
Cleo’s ears drooped slightly. She couldn’t deny she was hungry. But… She nodded her understanding and turned from the dining hall. “I can eat later.”
The truth was, the sooner she relayed her mission, the less it would be hovering over her like a dark fog. And the less the chance of Tinker hovering around her like a flea, disrupting her relaxing meal. She followed him through the winding corridor to the end, where one small room sat. The door was ajar, but he still needed to give it a shoulder barge to get it open. The wooden door tore over a wad of discarded paperwork before finally catching on the tattered edge of a cardboard box.
His desk was in an equal state of disarray (or ‘organised chaos’ as he’d call it), and he had to clear a stool of yet more paper for Cleo to sit down.
“Tell me,” he said. “How did things go in Windflower?”
Cleo let out a sigh. “That small town is fine for now. We chased off the jangmo-o.”
“Chased off?”
“A couple were apprehended there,” she explained. “But their Guild is small, you know that. Most of those dragons got away. Although not unscathed.”
“You let them get away?!”
“I was busy helping someone who got hit by a dragon rage,” Cleo explained. “They had no available medic, and they needed help!”
Tinker leant on his paw and tapped his claws on the table top. “The fact those dragons got away unsettles me, Cleo.”
“Then maybe it’s about time Windflower packed up and moved on. They’re too close to the Shadow Lands as it is.”
Tinker rubbed his muzzle and groaned. “That’s not an option I want to enforce on them. You were meant to kill-”
“My job is to look after pokemon who are threatened by the Darkness,” said Cleo. “I wasn’t going to let someone die by giving chase after a bunch of kids!”
“I appreciate that, Cleo,” said Tinker. “But someone else could have done it. Those dragons are a threat.”
“Those dragons are hatchlings.”
“Hydreigon trains hatchlings!”
“Yes, in the Shadow Lands!” Cleo snapped. “He doesn’t send a group of kids off to terrorise a village!” She sighed and dragged her claws through the fur between her ears. “At least having two jangmo-o in custody will hopefully give them much needed information. Whatever they can provide, anyway. At least they’re not terrorising them anymore.”
“If they come back, Cleo-”
“Then they have two of their own as ransom. I’m sure that will terrify those children more than being chased across the town by a pawful of Guild Warriors.”
“Ransom indeed.” Tinker lowered his paw to look at her. “I hardly think Hydreigon will care. If he demands that village wiped out, then it will be wiped out. Just like your home.”
A chill ran down Cleo’s spine and her fur stood on end along it, but she just stared back at the riolu silently. His right eye stared past her, and enough vehemence flared in her to probe him as to how he lost it in the first place. But she swiftly swallowed it down, and the look of surprise and regret that washed over his face made it a lot easier to do so.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “That was unprofessional of me.”
Cleo just nodded at that and looked away.
“What you did was noble, but you sometimes have to decide if sacrifices need to be made,” said Tinker. “In a war, it often comes to that.”
“Most pokemon wouldn’t call it a war anymore, Tinker. They’d say it’s just the norm. A group of tiny dragons trying to burn down a food storage? They’re just hooligan kids trying to get away with something while claiming they have the authority because ‘their king said so’. Hydreigon hasn’t sent an army onto us in seasons.”
“That’s because we’re losing.”
Cleo fell silent. She rubbed her paw over her face and sank in her seat. Losing… hadn’t they already lost? The Outcasts, scattered across Estellis, struggling to survive in a world where dragon- and dark-type pokemon reigned, ruled over by a horrid pokemon who wanted nothing more than to wipe out every other type completely. No. It was no longer a war. Now it was just survival.
“Outcasts are being picked off day by day, you know that,” said Tinker. “Driven across Estellis while Hydreigon spreads his rule further and further south. I fear you’ve become hardened to this world, Cleo.” He let out a small sigh and his voice softened. “What happened to the meowstic who’d run blindly into an army of Hydreigon’s soldiers just to take out their leader for the sake of a bounty?”
“For one thing, mobs like that are now few and far between,” said Cleo. “I mean, the last assignment you gave me was to take out a group of hatchlings. One blast of my psychic and the lot of them crumpled like flies.”
“Yet still got away.”
“No, those warriors there let them escape. They seemed to have no idea how to handle an event like this! They panicked! That’s how that warrior got hurt in the first place. My job was to take those dragons down and protect other pokemon. I did my job.”
“Your job was to protect Windflower.” Tinker leant against his desk. “And now you’re placing blame.”
“I did my job, Tinker. Those jangmo-o now have a lot to think about.”
Tinker pinched the bridge of his muzzle in two claws. “I’m beginning to think you and Spark may need to consider taking on an extra team member.”
Cleo trapped him in an amber glare. “This again? Tinker…”
“Don’t get me wrong, Spark’s a great ally.” Tinker picked up a small note on his desk and read it. “I’m going to guess she was the one who took out those three weavile in the woods?”
Cleo’s eyes widened. “You heard about that already? That’s why I-”
“Yes.” Tinker wagged the small note at her. “Word gets back to me quite quickly. Anyway, at least consider expanding your team? There are some recent Graduate Warriors who might have actually-”
“What?” She bared a canine. “Picked up my slack and gone after those jangmo-o?”
“To put it bluntly, yes.”
“Well I’m not interested,” said Cleo. “Spark and I work just fine together. She watches my back and covers me against dark-types, especially when I can’t get to them. She watches me, and I watch her. We don’t need another team-mate.”
“And what was Spark doing while you tended to the wounded?”
“Covering me.”
“Precisely.” Tinker sat back in his seat and folded the little note. “I don’t doubt the pair of you work like a well-oiled machine. I’ve seen you do good work in the past. But everyone needs some extra help every now and then. If you take on one of our trainees, it might do you the world of good. An extra pair of paws, and you might learn something.”
Cleo bit her lip and glanced away. “I don’t think so, Tinker.”
Tinker made a thoughtful noise. “Because you fear you’ll need to carry them?”
“Exactly. They’d just be a burden.” She wanted to add ‘just like that group of so-called Guild Warriors who quaked just because a group of hatchlings bared their fangs’ but thought better of it. There was no sense in vexing Tinker any further.
“Well, as far as fighting goes, you two do just great.” Tinker opened a drawer and pulled out a small, brown pouch. “Either way, you defended Windflower, so you still get paid. As for the weavile, there was actually a bounty on their heads. Turns out they’ve been terrorising some of the locals who’ve migrated here. With them out of the picture, the Winding Woods are safe for now.”
Cleo took the pouch gratefully and stuffed it into her satchel.
“I don’t imagine you got any information off the weavile?” Tinker asked. “Any reason as to why they were lurking around in those empty woods?”
“No, unfortunately.” Cleo rummaged in her satchel. “They weren’t in any state to talk. They did have this on them, however.”
She handed the little vial to the riolu and he leant forwards to take it. He turned it in the light, and Cleo noticed even in better lighting the pink liquid was still oddly fluorescent.
“Any idea what it is?” she asked.
“Not a clue.”
“It’s not pecha juice, right?”
“No, I don’t think so. Unless they mixed it with something else.” Tinker popped it on his desk and inclined his head as he stared at it. “I shall have to run some tests on it. Part of me fears it might be poison.”
Cleo’s mouth went dry. She only knew of one pokemon in Hydreigon’s army who used poisons, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t be inclined to give it a try. Was that why the weavile were lurking around the woods? Were they planning on poisoning the pokemon here?
Suddenly she wasn’t quite so hungry.
Tinker looked up at her suddenly and he trailed his eye over her. “You look positively exhausted. Will you be wanting a room for the night?”
Cleo nodded slowly. “Maybe a few nights. I think, after all that travelling, Spark and I would appreciate staying still for a little while.”
“Very well. Then where will you be off to?”
“New City,” she said. “I don’t have plans to go anywhere else, so we might as well head back home. Unless you have other plans?”
“A rest sounds like a good idea to me. Maybe it’ll help you put things into perspective.” Tinker picked up the vial again, no longer looking at Cleo.
Very well. She could tell when she wasn’t welcome.
She pushed herself from her seat and turned to leave his office.
“Oh, Cleo?”
She froze in the doorway, and flicked both her tails sharply.
“If anything happens to Windflower…” His voice was laced with warning.
She turned her head back towards him. “I shouldn’t even have been needed. They have a slaking there who could pick up two of those runts in one paw. If the Guild there can’t handle a group of kids, then we have a problem.”
She slipped from the room and yanked the door closed. But it didn’t slam. Instead it jammed over a mound of crumpled paper.
...
Cleo lay on her back on a pile of clean hay. The room had only had one nest, so she’d split it in two for her and Spark. The dedenne lay sprawled out atop it, giving off snores that far exceeded her size.
Cleo couldn’t sleep. She pulled out her map, clutching a red pen in one paw. It was a paw-sketched representation of Estellis, dotted with her own paw print writing. The north was mostly marred with red crosses, former territories that had been overrun by the Darkness. Areas that had seen much war and claimed many lives. They were places that were no longer inhabited by the Outcasts, nor inhabited by the Darkness. Just destroyed, and no longer safe for her or any other Outcast to visit or travel through. The further south they went, the fewer red crosses they’d find.
The entire northern part of the map was shaded black, stretching down over a third of the western areas. This was the Shadow Lands. A rapidly growing area that was ruled over by Hydreigon, as he stretched his claws across Estellis. It was inhabited only by dragon and dark-type pokemon, and for anyone else to enter it meant death. Death at the claws of his murkrow flock and weavile fleets, or to be incinerated by flames and dragonfire.
The rest of the western area, and a huge portion of the south was shaded purple. Heretic territory. Those who revered the Darkness and wished to appease Hydreigon, although that had only meant they’d been used before now. Used, then destroyed. Yet the Heretics tried to find new ways to appease him. Cleo didn’t understand it. Desperation to survive, or did they really believe themselves inferior and want to be servants to the horrid dragon?
The rest of the map showed areas still safe for the Outcasts. A small patch of scattered towns and villages, some of which she’d not seen yet to mark them on her map. Her eye fell to a spot just a two day walk from where they were. A huge moorland, trimmed on one side by a forest while the other side was dominated by a mountain that curled around the moors before it stretched away towards the north.
New City.
It wasn’t marked on her map. Even breathing its name outside was a risk. The Darkness didn’t know about it, nor did the Heretics. It was only known to the Guild and those who inhabited it. Only those trusted would be taken there, and those who lived there weren’t allowed to leave without reason. Not that most of them even wanted to. The pokemon were happy to live there, in safety. Unseen, hidden beneath the surface.
She sighed and folded away her map, tucking it away in her bag. She let her arm flop over her face as she stared at the ceiling.
What were those weavile doing in the woods? And why just the three of them? They’d been causing problems, apparently. Had they really been planning to poison this small town?
Just three of them alone wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Guild and all its forces. They must have known that. So it was either a sneak attack, or they were waiting for reinforcements. Or this town wasn’t their target at all?
No, it couldn’t be the latter. Pokemon were terrorized everywhere, the Outcasts just fought back to try and remain safe for as long as they could.
But if the little town was being targeted, it may very soon become nothing more than a red cross on her map.
...
Harbinger trotted along the rocky outcrop of the Silent Mountains, keeping impeccable balance. His snowy white paws moved one in front of the other, the back ones falling in the footprints of his forepaws making nary a sound. Behind him, the two pawniard twins took more wary steps, jogging to keep up with the absol’s quick pace.
He’d seen it. About a mile back he’d caught glimpse of a village ahead of them, formed of stone buildings nestled around a lake. They hadn’t been there two years before, so they were definitely recent. It had been hard to gauge how many pokemon lived there, but going off the number of houses alone, he guessed around fifty.
Fifty what? Pokemon hadn’t lived in the Silent Mountains in years. Not that it mattered what faction they fell under. All pokemon were the same. All hated and feared absol.
He paused just behind a rocky mound, lowering his head to see past the spray of dried branches poking from it. There it was. The village. Clean, white stone reflecting the moonlight. The lake glistened with stars, rippling and disturbing them as the breeze washed over it.
A couple of pokemon hovered around the lake, gathering water into clay jars. A zangoose and a linoone. In the doorway of one of the houses stood a zigzagoon on its hind legs, steadying itself with its paw. Clearly trying to imitate its parent.
It certainly looked peaceful enough. Well… it was time to introduce himself.
Harbinger crept from beneath the rock, catching the twigs with his bony tail. The rustle was enough to cause the zangoose’s ears to twitch. He looked up from the lake and met Harbinger’s crimson eyes. The zangoose stiffened, his fur flaring along his bushy tail.
Harbinger paused on the edge of the outcrop, his front paw raised. He was looking right down at the zangoose. Unafraid, unlike the feral-looking pokemon beneath him. The linoone had spotted him and let out a wail. She dropped the clay jar, shattering it over the rocks and spraying water everywhere. She dashed back to her house, scooping her curious child into her forearms before slamming the door behind her.
The zangoose flashed his canines. “Get out of here, you omen!”
Harbinger sighed inwardly. It was always the same.
He raised his head high. “I’m only here to warn you of a disaster.”
“Yeah, and you probably brought it yourself!” The zangoose flexed his claws, and the moonlight glinted off them. “I’m not afraid, absol. I’ll carve you up right here.”
It was always the same.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Harbinger turned to duck back beneath the mountain shrub.
Something sharp struck his heel. He stifled a yelp, skittering along the outcrop. The tell-tail clatter of stone told him the zangoose had thrown something. Harbinger didn’t glance back until he was on the other side of the shrub. The zangoose still glared after him, poised to leap into action if Harbinger retaliated.
He had every intention to retaliate. But not in the way the zangoose expected.
Harbinger pushed himself along the outcrop, nudging Scratch and Claw ahead of him. The ground widened out just ahead of them, before moving into a gentle incline further up the mountain. Harbinger sat down and stretched out his back leg to examine his paw. No blood, just a muddy scuff where the rock had struck him.
“So what are we going to do?” It was Claw who’d spoken.
Scratch stood beside his twin, rubbing his pointed limbs together. The sound it gave off was akin to a metal kricketune who hadn’t quite mastered the art of serenading just yet.
Harbinger lowered his leg to sit better and looked at each of the pawniard in turn. Patient, waiting. The dim light reflected off their metal hides, yet they still managed to blend to the shadows. The pokemon in that village probably hadn’t even noticed them.
Harbinger glanced back at the way they’d come. Those pokemon around the lake. He’d told them disaster was coming. He was going to make sure it did.
“Look around you,” he told the pawniard. “What do you see?”
“Mountains,” said Claw. “But what does an avalanche have to do with those pokemon in the valley?”
“I’m not going to start an avalanche,” said Harbinger. “What else is here?”
Claw tipped his head back in thought, and Scratch twitched as he looked at his brother expectantly.
“Rivers,” Scratch finally said, trailing one of his claws over his arm. “And the lake.”
A smile split Harbinger’s muzzle. “You remember those pokemon we saw in the valley?”
Claw nodded, and Scratch stopped his fussing, waiting for instruction.
“Good.” Harbinger stood, stepping gingerly on his bruised foot. “You know what to do.”
The twins saluted and turned, zipping along the mountain slope towards the other side.
Harbinger gave another glance back towards the village. He couldn’t see it anymore. The pokemon there would either flee, or stick around to see if he brought any threat.
A harbinger of disaster. That’s all they saw him as. Just like everyone else. If they were going to accuse him of disaster, then he’d make sure they received it.
Another smirk tugged at his lips, and he followed after the pawniard twins, bounding nimbly over the precarious rocks.
Right, so I got this fic for the catnip and I just finished reading it. Without further ado, here I go with my review.
Jumping into action is an... interesting way to start a story, as the reader is pulled into the action rather than the normal "exposition dump" some writers do, not that exposition is a problem. No, it can be handled well. Anyway, back to the review. As I said, jumping right into action is interesting, and I am particularly fond of those types of introductions. Nice job on that!
Other point I gotta say is about the characters. Cleo and Spark seem to work together really well as a team and have good coordination. And obviously Spark is a little hot-headed, which is always a good character flaw for a main lead. Moving on. The little chat between Cleo and the guildmaster shows us more of her character and how she acts on this strange and cruel world. Good job!
Basically, I enjoyed what I was reading! You seem to have a good understanding of your world and characters and how to make them work. What I gotta give props to is your description! I love how you add little details that make the Pokémon feel... alive. I'm already a fan of your work, and I might just read the rest if I have the time for it, anyway, hopefully you also enjoyed this review!
You seem to have a good understanding of your world and characters and how to make them work. What I gotta give props to is your description! I love how you add little details that make the Pokémon feel... alive. I'm already a fan of your work, and I might just read the rest if I have the time for it
Aww thanks so much! Given this is a re-write, I already know the world quite well (although it originally had no name!) I'm very fond of description, and I like animating my characters and making them seem more like animals than humans. I'm glad you've enjoyed this! Thanks for your review! =D
21 - Schemes and Separation
With rapidly fading strength, the vast grasslands seemed a lot bigger than they actually were. Enigma’s chest screamed with pain with every panicked breath, forcing him to finally come to a stop. He gave a wary glance back towards where those screeches had long faded. The tall grass hid most pokemon, and there was no sign of Harlequin and the others. Nor was there any sign of that deranged grass-type. That meant it hadn’t chased him.
Perhaps he could actually get some rest and check over his wounds?
Enigma clutched a paw to his chest as he desperately tried to calm his frantic breathing, and began scanning the area for everything he needed. A place to rest and lay low for a while, and berries. Not that he liked berries, but most pokemon turned to them for the medicinal qualities they possessed.
His heart sank as he quickly discovered the orchard was well behind him, and there was no way he was staggering back there. It had been a difficult enough trek already. The grasslands were overrun with tangling goosegrass and spiky thistles that had seemed intent on dragging him back with their angry thorns. All that remained of the orchard were a few prickly brambles and overripe razz berries. They wouldn’t speed up his recovery, but for now they’d have to do. He staggered over to them, keeping his left paw clasped over the right side of his chest. A tart smell wafted on the breeze, tickling his nose, and he looked up to follow it. Standing a few feet away was a slender tree with a winding, knotted trunk. Its branches fanned out around it, each one heavy with ripe sitrus berries.
Perfect. They were just what he needed.
He summoned what was left of his strength and leapt towards the tree, vanishing in mid air. He manifested awkwardly in the branches, steadying himself against the trunk as his feet slipped beneath him. He muttered under his breath and settled in the crook of the branch. Overripe sitrus berries hung around him like wrinkly ornaments, and he plucked one free and bit straight into it without removing the peel. Tangy, sour juices filled his mouth and he stifled a gag, forcing himself to swallow it. But a sharp stab in his throat caused him to immediately choke, each racking cough sending shock-waves of pain through his torso. He caught the offending object in his claws and leered at it.
Stupid seeds.
He tossed it to the ground and stared at the remaining berry, resigning himself to finish it, and much more carefully this time.
Now he was off the ground and somewhat safer, he took the opportunity to examine himself. His fur was marred with blood, which still flowed freely although he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Deep purple patches were visible beneath his smoky grey fur, particularly on the right side of his chest which looked to be swelling. He gingerly dislodged a few goosegrass burrs, but swiftly gave up as his body complained. Something was clearly broken.
Oh well. It would heal. He’d just have to avoid combat for a while.
He couldn’t see his own face, but his left eye was sore and was swelling shut. He’d managed to fend off most of the attacks thrown at his face, which had resulted in his arms getting a thorough beating. His left one protested with every movement.
That whimsicott…
Enigma licked sitrus juices off his claws and grimaced, not at the tart juices but at the effort of lifting his head to look back the way he’d come. Still no movement from the grass. It wasn’t giving chase, that much he was certain.
He sighed and settled back against the trunk, leaving it a moment before reaching for another berry. That whimsicott was the one that had killed Boomer. Enigma hadn’t quite believed it. How would a fluffy pom-pom gain the upper paw in a fight with a noivern? Deep down, Enigma had thought it was only down to the silly noivern letting his guard down. But Rio had spoken of a new type… That whimsicott had landed almost every hit on Enigma, even when he’d tried to phase out and slip away. Normal attacks wouldn’t have stopped him, but that was clearly no normal attack. Was it that new Type18? It hadn’t been like any attack Enigma had recognised. It was too child-like, reminiscent of the way a hatchling might play.
It was made all the more sinister and unbelievable by the expression the whimsicott had worn. Deranged, maniacal… Enigma had seen something remarkably similar very recently. Yes, back at the lab. That tyranitar… the madness in its eyes was just like that whimsicott’s. A lack of control, a desire to kill whatever was before it.
Rio had been keeping that tyranitar chained outside his lab, like some kind of wild pet.
Enigma took a fierce bite out of another berry, sending stinging juices all over his chest. He stifled a hiss and wiped at them gently with a paw, rubbing the juice into his fur. It stung like crazy, but that only meant it was working.
The tyranitar… the whimsicott… Rio obviously knew something. Enigma had dealt with the tyranitar, but that whimsicott was still out there. The Heretics had unleashed a monster, and it was travelling with the Outcasts and Harlequin.
Harlequin…
Enigma closed his eyes and flinched.
He’d left Harlequin to deal with that whimsicott. Enigma had fled like a coward. Harlequin and those other two pokemon were likely dead now, all because he’d not been able to handle it. Every attack Enigma had tried to counter with had been parried. That child-like attack might have looked naive, but the whimsicott had known what it was doing. It had taken every opportunity to land a hit while keeping Enigma’s off it. He’d barely got in a scratch. It was little wonder Boomer had been reduced to such a pitiful state. The dragon hadn’t stood a chance.
Enigma licked his claws clean and gazed off into the distance, back towards the Moorlands Forest. Rio had definitely been hiding something. It was glaringly obvious to Enigma now. Was it a mistake to chase after the Outcasts first? He was in no physical state to deal with Rio. But he had to get the information somehow. He’d get it, then he’d clean up the mess afterwards.
...
“Oh come on! Just get up!” Harlequin paced back and forth beside the fallen meowstic. “We’re losing precious time!”
That whimsicott had long since vanished, leaving his friends behind as though they were nothing to him. Spark had been the first to wake up, but it was impossible to see where she’d wandered off to in the long grass. Harlequin swiped at a thistle, cleaving it with sharp claws. It brushed against Cleo’s foot, but the meowstic didn’t even stir.
“Oi!” The dedenne’s shrill voice caused Harlequin’s ears to prick. The dedenne staggered backwards through the grass, dragging something heavy through the tangled goosegrass. “I found your bag!”
“Oh perfect! He didn’t run off with it.” Harlequin trotted over to her, stopping short as the collar snapped back. “Bring it over here so I can find what I need.”
“Nuh-uh!” Spark folded her arms and tapped her little foot, glaring up at the zorua. “This bag is chock full of poisons. How do I know you’re not just gonna try and poison us?”
“Because it wouldn’t benefit me right now!” Harlequin snapped.
“Yeah it would,” Spark retorted. “You’d have one less Outcast to worry about.”
“Yes, and be tied to a dead weight!” Harlequin let out a low snarl and jerked their head towards Cleo. “Or did you forget that only she can remove this collar?”
Spark twitched her nose in thought. “Huh. Fair point. Okay then.” She scurried behind the bag and gave it a hefty shove towards the zorua. “Go on then. But I’m watchin’ you.”
Spark stood back and watched as Harlequin rummaged through the worn satchel, dragging out various berries and dried meat. A plump pecha rolled across the grass to stop by Spark’s paw. The dedenne’s mouth watered involuntarily and she fought the urge to snatch it up. Harlequin let out a small ‘aha!’ and dragged their head back out of their bag. A green leafy plant hung from the zorua’s jaws, peppered with tiny orange flowers.
“What’s that?” Spark asked with some revulsion.
“Bitter herb.” Harlequin’s voice was muffled by the plant. “Nasty stuff. This oughta wake her back up. Here.” Harlequin lowered their head towards Spark. “Take it and shove it down her throat.”
Spark’s whiskers crackled and she met the zorua’s eyes. But Harlequin simply nudged the dedenne with the herb. Realising the zorua was being serious, Spark took it and shot Harlequin a warning glare.
“You’re certain this will wake Cleo up?” Spark asked.
Harlequin nodded once and grimaced, flicking out their tongue with disgust. “Trust me. If she’s alive, that herb will shock her awake.”
Spark looked between Cleo and Harlequin, then hopped up onto Cleo’s chest. The meowstic’s mouth was slightly open, which Spark was silently grateful for. It would make the job a lot easier. She crept along Cleo’s chest and stuffed the leaves of the bitter herb into her mouth.
Cleo immediately spluttered and sat bolt upright, sending Spark tumbling off her into the grass with a ‘whoops!’ Cleo wiped her paw across her mouth, grimacing with the effort. She stretched, cringing at the pain in her back. Her head throbbed, and she placed a paw against it as nausea radiated through her body.
“It worked!” Spark hopped around her to rejoin Harlequin.
“What on earth was that?” Cleo croaked as she reached into her bag for an oran berry. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.” She took a cautious bite out of the oran, and the flavour caused her stomach to lurch. She took a few deep breaths then slowly turned to address Spark. “How long was I out?”
“Too long!” Spark declared around a mouthful of pecha. “When I came too, I found Harlequin panicking. And I was out for long enough.” She inclined her head on one side. “Are you okay? You look a little off.”
“I’m fine.” Cleo flinched and rubbed her head. “Just took a bit of a beating. I guess… Mischief must have let us be? Where is he?”
Harlequin bared their canines and growled. “We’ve long lost him now.”
“Oh.” Cleo grimaced at the thought and swallowed her mouthful. “Where is he now?”
“Haven’t a clue,” said Harlequin. “Someone attacked him and he took off after them. I didn’t bother to watch.”
“Did you see who it was?” Cleo asked.
“No. They vanished before I saw them.” Harlequin turned their face away from Cleo, bringing an end to that little statement.
Cleo couldn’t help but think Harlequin had more to say than that. Cleo sighed and silently finished her berry. Searing pain shot up and down her back with every movement, but the oran berry was beginning to do its job and take the edge off it. She ventured to stand, squeezing her eyes shut in a grimace as her head throbbed. The entire world spun around her, and she steadied herself against the tree beside her. She adjusted her bag gingerly and squinted off into the distance.
“Then we need to go and find him,” she said. “We can’t leave him alone out there. He’s probably already woken up somewhere, with no recollection of what’s happened.”
Harlequin stood and raised a paw. “And what about Enigma?”
“What about him?” Cleo shrugged.
“He’s wounded!” Harlequin snapped. “He needs help! He doesn’t carry berries with him, and you saw what that monster you call a friend was doing to him!”
“Mischief is not a monster.” Cleo narrowed her eyes at Harlequin. “And I don’t want you calling him that again. Understood?”
Harlequin scoffed, but seemed at a loss for words.
“Mischief is our friend,” Cleo continued. “And he’s sick. He needs our help right now, and we’re going to find him.”
“Yeah? Well Enigma is my friend,” said Harlequin. “And he needs my help. More than your so-called friend does.”
“Really?” Spark wiped her paws on her torso and inclined her head on one side. “Because I didn’t get the impression that you two were friends at all.”
A low growl rose from Harlequin’s throat. “You know nothing, rodent!”
“I think I learned plenty in that scenario,” Spark went on. “Enigma made his feelings pretty dang clear if you ask me.”
Harlequin lunged towards the dedenne, jaws snapping. Spark leapt out of the way and scurried up onto Cleo’s shoulder. The zorua bounced off the bracelet’s protective field, landing nimbly in the grass.
“Hey!” Cleo snapped.
Harlequin seethed at Cleo’s feet, ears tugged back flat against their skull.
Cleo glared into the zorua’s livid blue eyes. “There’ll be none of that!”
Spark shook her fist. “Yeah, you want a shocking?”
“None of…” Harlequin looked between the dedenne and meowstic and took a step back. “She says anything to me like that again, I’ll bite off her puny head!”
“Yeah?” Spark’s whiskers crackled. “You try that and I’ll fry your insides!”
“Stop arguing!” Cleo’s voice resounded over the plain, bringing the other two to silence. She placed a paw against her head, flinching at her own voice.
Harlequin recoiled back from her, looking away. But Cleo could clearly see the tears glistening in those sapphire eyes. Spark had struck a raw nerve.
Cleo sighed and ran a paw through the fur between her ears. “Look, Harlequin. Friends argue, okay?”
Harlequin’s ear twitched towards her and they fixed one eye on the meowstic.
“Enigma probably didn’t mean what he said,” Cleo finished. “But we are not going after him. He might be your friend, but just like you, he isn’t our friend. And I am not putting myself or Spark at risk by rushing off to help a wounded assassin.”
“Really?” Harlequin sat down heavily and looked up at her. “I thought you bleeding hearts helped anyone in need?”
“We help Outcasts in need,” said Cleo. “Not the Darkness that causes all our suffering.”
Harlequin scoffed at that. “Then let me go and look for him!”
“No. You’re our prisoner,” Cleo said firmly. “I don’t imagine if the tables were turned and Spark was injured that you’d let me go and look for her?” Cleo nodded as the zorua bared a canine. “Sorry, Harlequin, but this is war.”
Cleo turned from Harlequin to look out across the plain. It seemed a lot larger than she remembered it. Mischief could be anywhere. He could even have gone back towards the abbey, or into the woods in the distance. There was also a big chance he was looking for them.
She sighed and twitched her claws at her side. There was only one of them who would have any idea which way he’d gone, and the thought sent Cleo’s stomach plummeting deep into her gut.
She let out a small sigh and turned back to Harlequin. “I don’t imagine you saw which way he went?”
Harlequin’s eyes lit up and they laughed. “Oh! Of course… you were unconscious, so you have to ask me! Now… which way did your little monster go?” A sinister grin spread across the zorua’s face, and Cleo narrowed her eyes in warning. Harlequin tipped their head on one side and chuckled. “I could tell you anything, couldn’t I?”
...
Harbinger sat beside the whimsicott, watching him carefully. His chest rose and fell with each calm, steady breath. It had been a good while since he’d fallen unconscious. Quite abruptly, too. Harbinger had heard something crumple in the grass and had made the fatal error of looking back. Well… it could have been fatal. He’d managed to drag the whimsicott to the edge of the plain, and told Scratch and Claw to go on ahead of him. They’d be deep in the Endless Woods by now.
Harbinger didn’t fully understand his own actions. He could have just left the whimsicott lying in the grass, but he’d felt the need to drag him aside to somewhere safer than the wide open plain. Harbinger put it down to curiosity. A desire to see the pokerus-induced state with his own eyes. The whimsicott didn’t seem like a threat. Harbinger had seen him travelling with his companions, and he’d seemed a harmless, friendly-looking pokemon, albeit a little quiet. Perhaps even a little lost. Then the sudden turn… the violent actions towards those he called friends… only to then collapse shortly after.
So that’s what the pokerus did. Just like Harbinger had read in those notes, it sent a pokemon into a crazed frenzy that ended once the affected pokemon fainted. It would only be a matter of time before the poor whimsicott ended up like that tyranitar…
Wait, what? Harbinger scoffed at his own thoughts. He was feeling pity for another pokemon? He was going soft.
A faint murmur slipped between the whimsicott’s lips and his orange eyes fluttered open. He ran a stubby paw across his face then sat up with a start. He turned his head in all directions before finally landing on Harbinger.
“Where am I?” he asked. “Where’s Cleo?”
There it was. Memory loss.
“Your friends are back that way.” Harbinger nodded back towards the thick, long grass. “I don’t know if they’re still there, however. They could have been picked off by the Darkness by now.”
The absol rose to his feet and turned tail to join Scratch and Claw in the Endless Woods. But the whimsicott’s voice froze him, and his fur rose along his spine.
“Wait.”
Harbinger looked back at him with narrowed eyes. “What?”
“Why aren’t I with them?” Mischief asked, panic rising in his voice. “Usually, when I wake up, I’m with them. Or in a medical ward, at least…” He trailed off and stared down at his paws in his lap. His shoulders rose in a small sigh. “I lost control again, didn’t I?”
“You could say that,” said Harbinger. “I saved them. From you.”
The whimsicott looked up with a start, his orange eyes widening. “I attacked them?”
Harbinger nodded once.
“But I was trying to save them!” The whimsicott lowered his head into his paws. “From that ghost… the one that jingles.”
“Enigma.” Harbinger growled the name and turned towards the woods. “Yes, you almost killed him. Pity… it would have been a great thing if you had.”
“No! It would have been a terrible thing if I’d killed him!”
“He’s an assassin.” Harbinger jerked his head back to look at the grass-type. “Or to put it bluntly, a heartless murderer! He wouldn’t have thought twice about killing you.”
“But if I killed him, he wouldn’t get the chance to change!” The whimsicott pushed himself to his feet. “Pokemon can change. I was told that by Rose once and I believe her.”
Harbinger blinked a few times, staring back at the whimsicott. Had he actually just said those words? Harbinger had no idea who this ‘Rose’ was, but the idea of a pokemon changing in this day and age was absurd. He’d been in the Shadow Lands and he’d been outside them. The Darkness killed and the Outcasts ran. The Heretics… well, they do what Heretics do. And as for absol… they just stay away from it all.
“Believe what you want,” Harbinger said boredly. “I’m leaving. You go back to your friends.”
“I can’t go back.”
“Nonsense.”
“I can’t!” the whimsicott wailed. “What if… what if I hurt them?”
Harbinger ventured a glance back, and swiftly regretted it. The fluffy pokemon stared down at his paws as if they’d done him a great injustice. A look of terror was plastered across his face, and he let his paws fall to glance back towards the long grass. Harbinger swore under his breath at what he was about to do, and he marched over to the whimsicott, drawing his eye.
“So you’re infected by a little pokerus,” Harbinger scoffed. “At least you have friends!”
The whimsicott’s eyes widened with confusion, and Harbinger found himself growing rapidly frustrated.
“Did they already know this about you?” he asked.
“Apparently.” The whimsicott closed his eyes and looked away. “But they didn’t tell me about it.”
“Then they don’t seem to care.”
“They don’t care about me?” the whimsicott gasped.
“They don’t care that you’re mad!” Harbinger barked. “They stick by you, knowing that you have these outbursts?! Then return the favour and do the same! Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself alone in this world. And take it from me, this world isn’t a nice place.”
Harbinger turned his back on the grass pokemon and marched towards the tree-line. Smaller footsteps echoed his own, and he let out a quiet growl of frustration.
“Why are you following me?” he asked.
“I… I need your help looking for them,” said the whimsicott.
“Well you’re not getting it.”
“You saved them from me, right?” the grass-type ventured. “So why not help us find each other?”
“I don’t help other pokemon,” Harbinger said bluntly. “And your friends would not be very happy to see me.”
“Why not?”
Harbinger leapt to face the whimsicott, and the grass pokemon leapt daintily back from him with surprise.
“Do you even know what I am?” Harbinger asked.
“A pokemon.” The whimsicott gave him a small smile. “Like me.”
Harbinger blinked a couple of times and looked the whimsicott up and down. Was this pokemon serious? Perhaps the pokerus had done more damage than he first realised?
“Yes… I suppose I am, if you want to use an umbrella term,” Harbinger said. “But we are different, nothing alike. You are a whimsicott. That… Cleo? She’s a meowstic. And I am an absol. Now… tell me. What do other pokemon believe absol do?”
The whimsicott lifted his paws and let them drop weakly to his sides. “I don’t know. I don’t have any memories.”
Harbinger snorted through his nose. Well that explained things.
“They believe we bring disaster and misfortune,” Harbinger explained. “They fear us. They see us, and they either flee or try to kill us.”
The whimsicott’s eyes widened with surprise. “Why would they try to kill you?”
“Because they believe if they kill us, it will stop the disaster from coming.”
“Oh.” The whimsicott sank slightly and glanced away. “Then if we’re your enemies, why save my friends?”
“I wasn’t saving your friends,” Harbinger scoffed. “Any other day, I’d have stood by and watched. My priority was stopping you from killing that zorua.”
“Harlequin? Why?”
“Oh…” Harbinger chuckled and lowered his head so he was almost nose to nose with the whimsicott. “Because you’re not allowed to kill him. That is my job.”
The whimsicott took a small step back. “You want to kill Harlequin?”
“Oh yes.” Harbinger stood up straight again, flaring his ruff. “It’s been my goal for years, but he always slips through my claws. Now he’s away from Enigma it should be a lot easier. I’m going to make that zorua regret what he did to me. And I am going to enjoy every minute of it.”
...
Cleo glanced up from her map at their surroundings. They hadn’t walked far. She was still trying to orient herself, but whereas the grasslands were drawn on the map, the ruins were not. She had no way to work out exactly which way they were headed. The map said there was a vast woodland named the Endless Woods surrounding a large clearing, which she assumed was where they were standing.
“Any joy?” Spark asked from Cleo’s shoulder.
Cleo shook her head. “I think this is an error. According to the map, we’re meant to be surrounded by woodland, but we’re clearly not. Behind us is the Moorlands Forest, or what I thought was the forest. This says the Endless Woods are on all sides, separated by the Glen. We didn’t even pass through the Glen.”
“Huh.” Spark sat down suddenly. “Well, bother.”
Cleo sighed and tucked her map away. She’d been hoping to get some sense of where Mischief might have fled to. But their only answer according to the map was the Endless Woods. If he’d gone back the way they’d come, or deviated across the plain into some unknown territory, then they’d have lost him. Where did she even start looking?
She kept plodding on through the grass slowly, since her feet felt very unsteady and each step sent a nauseating pulse through her head. She stretched as much as she could to get a good look ahead of them. No sign of movement. Not even a murkrow circling overhead. The grasslands felt as desolate as they looked.
A low whine came from beside her and she turned towards Harlequin. The zorua was sniffing at a patch of grass that on closer inspection was dotted with fresh blood. Cleo grit her teeth together and took a step back. When she’d pulled Mischief off Enigma, she was fairly certain the whimsicott hadn’t been wounded. Her vision was blurred with fatigue, but Enigma’s condition had been as clear as day. If they kept heading in that direction, then they may end up walking straight into the banette’s deadly embrace.
Cleo turned and moved away from the trail with a bid to put it as far behind them as possible, while staying alert for any other signs of the assassin. Harlequin whined with protest, struggling feebly against the collar’s confines.
“What are you doing?!” Harlequin yelped. “He went that way!”
“Exactly,” said Cleo. “I’m not following Enigma. I thought I made that very clear.”
“I’m not talking about him, I’m talking about your crazy friend!” Harlequin glared up at her. “He went after Enigma, I can smell it.”
Spark leant over Cleo’s shoulder to frown at the zorua. “You said he was attacked by someone and chased after them.”
“Yes, you’re lying,” said Cleo. “We’re not about to walk right into a trap, Harlequin. So you can stop.”
Harlequin’s lips curled back in a snarl. “I’m not lying! I’m worried about Enigma. What if that monster snaps again and kills him?! He’s in no state to fight back!”
Cleo turned her back on Harlequin, but she could feel the zorua’s eyes boring into the back of her head.
“I know you don’t want that to happen,” said Harlequin. “You wouldn’t have saved him if you did.”
Cleo faltered, her paw twitching at her side. Why had she saved Enigma? This was war. Pokemon were killed left and right, and she didn’t like it. No sane pokemon did. That assassin had been sent after them. He’d intended to either kill them or take them back to Hydreigon - and that dragon would have killed them, no questions asked. Mischief was guilty of killing Hydreigon’s top ace, and as far as he was concerned, Cleo and Spark were also guilty for aiding Mischief. So why spare Enigma?
Cleo closed her eyes as the memory came back to her. Harlequin’s desperate plea.
‘I don’t want to lose him too!’
A small espurr was lowered from a small burning window, screaming at her parents to come with her. To squeeze through a window much too small for a full-grown meowstic.
A tiny dedenne crying amid the ferns.
Two small lives thrown together as an unlikely pair tried to deal with losing everything they’d known.
Was Harlequin really no different?
Cleo chanced a glance back at the zorua, meeting their blue eyes. Desperate, glistening with tears. Cleo’s ears drooped slightly. That’s why she’d done it. Harlequin’s reaction reminded her too much of herself. If she’d been able to tear that window open enough for her parents to escape, she’d have done it. If Harlequin could get free of their confines and run after Enimga, then they would.
And if Cleo was separated from Spark and wanted to know if she was okay, if the tables were turned… would she be begging her enemy to let her go and find her?
The short answer would be ‘yes’.
Cleo closed her eyes and rubbed behind her ear. “Okay, Harlequin. We’ll go and check on your friend - but on one condition.” She raised a claw, silencing the dumbfounded zorua and stunned dedenne before either could speak. A look of surprise had taken over Harlequin’s face. “I want you to be honest with me. Did Mischief really go that way?”
Harlequin licked their lips and lowered their head slightly. “No. He went that way.” The zorua gave a nod towards the path Cleo had been about to take.
Cleo’s heart sank as she stared down that path. The long grass seemed to stretch on for an eternity before it reached the treeline. If he woke up and headed back to look for them, and they’d gone after Enigma, the chances their paths would cross would be minuscule.
“What are you doing, Cleo?” Spark muttered.
“I’m beginning to wonder the same thing,” Cleo replied. “But… I think I need to do this.”
“I know you always want to help a pokemon in need, but an assassin?” Spark’s whiskers twitched with frustration. “He was sent to kill us.”
“He’s in no state to fight,” Cleo explained. “I doubt he’ll have recovered that quickly. If he tries anything, a blast of my psychic will put him out of action.”
She hoped the confidence in her voice would placate the dedenne. But Spark sighed and slipped from her shoulder to land at her feet.
“Okay,” she said, peering up at Cleo from amid the long grass. “You two go and find him. I’ll search for Mischief.”
Cleo’s heart felt like lead. “You’re not coming with me?”
“Normally I would,” said Spark. “But we’ve got to find Mischief before someone else does. He’s as much in need right now, Cleo. He’s got a price on his head. If he’s still out cold, then he’ll be easy pickings.”
Cleo’s paws turned clammy. She’d not been separated from Spark in a long time. But the dedenne was strong, and in that grass she’d be hard to spot. Cleo gave a curt nod and took a step back towards Harlequin.
“Okay,” she said. “So we don’t get lost, we’ll meet at the edge of the trees over there. But if you run into any trouble, send me a Spark Signal.”
The dedenne raised a paw in salute and turned to rush through the grass. In a split second, she was back and gave Cleo a fond smile.
“Same to you, sister.” With that, Spark shot through the grass and this time she didn’t return.
Cleo stood beside Harlequin, staring after her friend. Just Cleo and a detained assassin, looking for a wounded pokemon sent to kill her and her friends. Cleo’s mouth turned dry and she became increasingly aware of the stinging claw marks still tormenting her back. If Enigma had recovered enough, he might be able to finish her off.
“All right, Harlequin.” Cleo turned to address the zorua. “You can trail his scent, so lead the way.”
Harlequin turned, nose to the ground, and lead Cleo through the tall grass. The zorua was silent, sniffing at the blades of grass as they zigzagged across the plain. Enigma had clearly tried every way possible to lose Mischief. After a short stretch, Harlequin blanked, lifting their head to peer over the top of the grass.
It wasn’t a massive setback. They zipped through it, picking up pace. Cleo decided to break into a trot, allowing the zorua to continue their search more freely. Harlequin noticed this and their trot soon became a sprint. The zorua couldn’t break out of their confines, so if Cleo wanted to get this over quickly then she had to keep on running herself. She pushed herself on, trying to resist the urge to stop. When she did, Harlequin looked back over their shoulder with an icy glare, the fierceness washed out by genuine worry. So Cleo pressed on.
They hadn’t gone far before Harlequin’s nose was in the grass again. A low whine left their throat and they lifted their head, turning it left and right. Cleo soon spotted what had disturbed them. More blood. More than a few mere spots of it this time.
The trail wasn’t running cold. Harlequin had Enigma’s scent again and moved more slowly, following it carefully along a patch of brambles. Just beyond it, Harlequin stopped. They looked up, confusion spreading across their face.
“I’ve lost it again,” said the zorua. “It ends here.”
“Could he have warped?” Cleo asked. “I think I saw him do that after he fled. Although… it is hazy.”
Harlequin shook their head and sniffed the ground again, then the air. “It takes a lot out of him. He’d be too weak to warp too far.”
Cleo raised her paws in a shrug. “Then we’re at a loss. He clearly isn’t here.”
Harlequin snarled at her then raised their head. “Hey, Enigma?! Are you here?!”
Cleo hissed and turned sharply, ears pricked. The zorua’s voice rang out loud and clear. Any nearby lurking pokemon would have heard it.
Harlequin’s ears drooped and they inched closer to Cleo. But then something caught the zorua’s eye. A sitrus tree, just a few feet away.
Harlequin took off towards it, and Cleo followed cautiously, searching the branches. If he’d managed to warp anywhere, then that tree was a good target.
Harlequin nosed around the roots, pawing at the earthy ground beneath it. “Seeds.”
Cleo took a wary step back from the tree, bracing herself for an attack.
Harlequin gazed up into the branches, nose twitching at the air. “Enigma, are you there?”
A brief pause passed between them. Silence. Not so much as the rustle of a leaf.
“He was here,” said Harlequin. “I can smell him.”
“Well it doesn’t look like he is anymore,” said Cleo.
Harlequin sighed and turned away from the tree. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Look at it this way,” said Cleo. “If he’s not here, then maybe he’s managed to recover?”
“I hope so.” Harlequin gave one last glance back at the tree. “But I know how stubborn he is.”
Cleo felt those words weren’t aimed at her. She gave the tree a wary glance and lead Harlequin away from it, back the way they’d come.
...
Enigma watched Harlequin and the meowstic move away from him, back the way they’d come. Enigma had seen them coming a fair way off and had reduced his density until he was no longer visible to the naked eye. That meowstic may have let him escape once already, but Enigma wasn’t willing to put himself at risk of an attack in his current state.
Why had they both been looking for him? Sure, Harlequin’s unusual collar didn’t allow the zorua to move freely without the meowstic, but surely an Outcast wouldn’t be looking for a wounded assassin out of sheer kindness? No sane pokemon would willingly help another that had been sent to kill them. An opportunity, perhaps? The meowstic had simply tricked Harlequin into thinking she’ll help, only to finish Enigma off when she got the chance?
Enigma licked sour berry juice from his claws as another thought took over his mind.
Perhaps Harlequin was no longer on his side. Their mind had been warped by the Outcasts, turned against the Darkness. Turned against him.
Enigma rolled his head back against the tree’s trunk and groaned.
He’d never thought that day would come… But it was every assassins’ duty to kill a traitor. If that was the case, then he’d have no choice but to kill Harlequin.
Thank you so much! =D I'm hoping I've added enough changes and plot smoothing so that older readers can enjoy, too. Some have already returned on FFNet and I am super stoked about that!
Fantastic, thank you =D Cleo and Spark's relationship is pretty heart-warming, and I love writing the pair. They even have their own backstory I plan to share at some point further down the line, as the original has its own collection of back-story one-shots which need some serious fine-tuning. This is so much fun work for me, I love it!
I'm really glad to read this. Tinker and Cleo's relationship is one of the aspects I've altered in this re-write. They weren't as conflicting originally, and Tinker was rather fond of Cleo.
You'll have to wait and see about Harbinger ;) you've only had one perspective on all of this so far.
Thanks for pointing that out. I think it was down to me using the American spell-check which was defaulted on Scrivener. There are spelling differences between some UK and American words. I've switched this to UK now, given I use a lot of British idioms and spellings by default. Hopefully this will fix things, but I apologise to my American readers if anything looks odd from here on out!
2 - Mischief
The dining hall was bustling as it always was first thing in the morning. Cleo slid through a group of nattering pokemon to join Spark at the table. The small dedenne was sat beside a snubbul who, despite being too involved in his breakfast, took the time to look up and smile warmly at the meowstic. Cleo returned his greeting, then flopped down beside Spark.
“Great spread today!” said Spark just before taking a bite out of an oran berry.
Cleo couldn’t agree more. To look at it, one wouldn’t think the cold season was drawing in. It looked like the Guild had just had a fresh harvest.
She reached for a plate and grabbed a few slices of dried fish to add to it. Coupled with a savory root gravy, it went down a treat.
Spark wiped her whiskers and looked up at Cleo. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“I thought we’d finally head out,” said Cleo. “I think five days is a suitable enough rest.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to get itchy feet.” Spark reached for another berry. “I’d better fill up though if we’re gonna be travelling a while.”
“It’s a two day walk to New City,” said Cleo. “You won’t be struggling. I’ll restock our supplies before we leave.”
“Fantastic!” Spark punctuated that by stuffing an entire cheri into her mouth.
It was little wonder the dedenne didn’t choke. Cleo stifled a laugh and tucked into her own breakfast.
“Oh, I should let Tinker know we’re heading off, too,” said Cleo.
“Can’t,” said Spark. “He’s apparently already left.”
Cleo let out a small sigh of relief. She hadn’t really spoken to him since they’d arrived. In fact, she’d actively tried to avoid him. The only other contact they’d had was small-talk over dinner two evenings prior, when they’d found themselves sitting next to each other. Things had seemed a little tense.
“Did he say where he was going?” Cleo ventured.
Spark shrugged her shoulders and swallowed her mouthful. “Nope. He didn’t speak to me. I heard it off JuneBerry.”
Cleo didn’t know who JuneBerry was, but Spark’s answer didn’t exactly solve anything. If Cleo was to guess, Tinker had probably headed back to New City. Cleo hadn’t heard any news about locals in trouble, and Tinker didn’t often venture outside. He just sent out his own Warriors while handling affairs from his desk.
Cleo wiped her paw across her mouth and scooped up her empty plate. “I’ll meet you back here after I’ve grabbed supplies, okay?”
Spark gave her a thumbs-up then returned to re-stocking her plate. Cleo had long since stopped questioning where Spark put it all. She left the dining hall, pausing only to place her plate on the shelf beside the door.
The store room wasn’t far away. A wooden elevator box hung inside the wall, and she lowered herself using its creaky pulley system. The sides of the box scraped along the chute, occasionally snagging in place. It was somewhat unsettling, and a clear sign that the Guild Hall, despite appearances, was as hastily built as the rest of the town.
It finally opened up into a dark room. She could already smell the ripe berries, guiding her nose towards the wooden boxes at the back of the room. Dim light flickered from torches high above her by the elevator, but yet more danced around amid the boxes, casting erratic shadows across the walls. A charmander poked his head up and staggered beneath the weight of an overflowing basket. He set it inside another pulley system, smaller than the elevator, then poked his head inside.
“Sending them up!”
The dumb waiter creaked, lifting the basket out of sight. The charmander returned to his task, gathering berries one by one and examining them, before deciding which ones to put into another basket for the kitchen. He looked up when Cleo made her way towards the supplies.
“Oh hi!” he said. “Are you here for supplies?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Just stocking up for a two day journey.”
“Going to New City, huh?” He smiled warmly and lowered what he was holding into the basket. “I can help you pick things out if you like?”
Cleo eyed him curiously, assessing him. Her claws twitched at her sides and she bit her lip absently.
“No thanks,” she said. “I know what I’m looking for. I won’t disturb you.”
“It’s no problem, honest!” He straightened to look at her, and his eyes widened briefly. His face fell slightly, but he tried to mask it with a smile. “Oh. Right, I understand. Sure, help yourself.”
Cleo nodded stiffly and clambered amid the boxes. Trusting others was always something she’d struggled with. Sure, she could put her life on the line for innocent pokemon, but would turn down help for a simple task like this… She shook her head at herself and began sorting through the varied selection of berries.
Pokemon often used berries, not just for food but medicinal reasons too. Oran and sitrus berries were a frequent go-to, although both Cleo and Spark preferred oran to the bitter tang of sitrus. She made sure to stock up on enough oran berries to see them though more than two days. On top of that, she made sure to grab a couple of cheri berries for Spark. A personal favourite of the dedenne’s.
As well as a couple of pecha berries, and rawst perchance they needed them, Cleo also restocked her dried fish. Spark didn’t touch the stuff, but Cleo had been raised on it. It was packaged in brown paper, and slotted in nicely at the back of Cleo’s satchel, behind her map. That way, it wouldn’t turn the berries salty.
Satisfied, Cleo headed back towards the elevator.
The charmander gave her a friendly ‘bye!’ as she entered it. She returned it with a polite wave, and dragged herself back out of the storage room.
Spark was waiting by the dining hall door, and her long whiskers twitched in a happy smile. She bounded across the floor and scrambled up Cleo’s leg to her shoulder.
“So what didja get?” she asked.
“Now that would be telling,” Cleo teased as they left the Guild.
“Aw! Come on!”
The sun beamed down on the little town, baking the dirt streets until they were almost too hot to walk on. The town was bustling with pokemon, most of them keeping close to the walls. Cleo followed the path through the buildings towards a small market. She quirked an eyebrow at it, then looked down at her bag.
She’d managed to amass some items during her last job that she’d successfully buried beneath all the berries, but unloading them off on the market might not be a bad idea. She didn’t use items in battle herself. Iron thorns were a simple means to peg her tent into the ground, as opposed to something to throw at her foes. She was clumsy with them, and had never mastered the art of throwing them straight.
She passed by a table that specialised in such items, but the seller was deep in debate with a skarmory. The metal bird had recently shed some feathers and was trying to get a good price for the material, which the graveller who owned the stall was desperate to underpay for.
Cleo decided to take her wares elsewhere, following the stalls around to another filled with battle items. Normal and water gems were the main focus, and to no surprise of Cleo’s, there wasn’t a psychic gem in sight. Typical. That was one item she might have actually considered.
“Can I help you?” The seller was a cinccino.
“Yes, actually.” Cleo fumbled through her bag for the small paw-full of iron thorns. “I was wondering if you were interested in these?”
The cinccino gathered them up and examined them with intense scrutiny. “I think two gold coins would be enough?”
Cleo shrugged. “I’ll take-”
She staggered forwards as someone bashed into her, her words cutting off as she reached out to steady herself on the table. Two of the gems fell off to the floor, rolling away beneath the feet of a passing ursaring. She turned her head towards the sound of scampering feet, but whoever it was had slipped away unseen.
“Little toe-rag,” Spark scoffed.
Cleo muttered an apology to the cinccino and stooped to grab one of the gems. The other had been picked up by the ursaring. Cleo’s heart sank when she noted the crack in the surface of the water gem in her paws.
The cinccino’s lips turned down in a sad frown. “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you for that.”
“Will the thorns be enough?” Cleo asked.
The cinccino shook her head. “They’re three gold each.”
Cleo sighed and reached into her bag for her coin pouch, but her claws closed around something hard and round. She pulled it out and her eyes widened. A rock?
“What are you doing with a rock?” Spark asked.
Cleo’s heart sank even further and she dropped her paw, searching the crowd of busy pokemon. “I think whoever bumped me robbed me…”
“We were robbed?!” Spark twisted on her shoulder and shook her fist at the air. “Get back here, you thief!”
“It’s a little late now.” Cleo turned back to the cinccino. “I’m really sorry, I-”
The cinccino lifted her paws and shook her head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s just one coin. I’ll keep the iron thorns, though.” She closed her eyes in a smile. “Just… catch that thief before he robs anyone else?”
“Thank you so much.” Cleo turned from the table and dashed through the crowd.
It didn’t surprise her. Even amid the Outcasts there were dishonest pokemon. Yet another reason not to trust so blindly. She cut hastily through the crowd, trying to spot anyone who looked remotely suspicious.
Spark tapped Cleo’s ear and pointed straight ahead. “Is that the thief?”
Cleo narrowed her eyes at the retreating fluffy back of a whimsicott. His running gait was almost as if he were in slow-motion, rising daintily into the air as the breeze carried him further along.
“Oi!” Spark shouted. “Stop right there, you thief!”
The whimsicott looked back at her, and his orange eyes widened. He turned and picked up his pace, galloping towards the edge of town.
Spark bailed off Cleo’s shoulder and took off after him, screeching at him to stop.
Cleo shook her head sharply and raced after him. Spark was alarmingly fast, outrunning Cleo and almost snapping at the whimsicott’s heels. He gave another glance back and let out a ‘yikes!’ before desperately trying to speed up. The wind was no longer in his favour, having dropped and leaving him to outrun the speedy dedenne alone.
Spark’s whiskers lit up with electricity and she fired a thunderbolt at the whimsicott. It staggered him, slowing him down enough for Cleo to come within striking distance.
The meowstic unfurled her ears, and a blast of purple light struck the thief. He yelped and stumbled forwards, but he didn’t hit the floor. Instead, Cleo lifted him in her psychic attack and turned the fluffy pokemon around to face her.
She came to a stop beside Spark, panting to catch her breath. “You’re fast, I’ll give you that.”
The whimsicott touched a thumb-claw to his chest. “Are you talking to me?”
“Do you see any other thieves in bubbles?” Cleo scoffed.
The whimsicott turned his head left and right, straining to see behind him. Then he turned back to Cleo and shook his head. “Nope.”
Cleo and Spark exchanged glances. It had been a sarcastic and rhetorical question, and Cleo wasn’t sure if the whimsicott was returning the jest or being serious.
She turned back to him and held out her paw. “Now. Give back what you stole from me, and I’ll let you go without any fuss.”
“Oh darn it!” His face fell and his arms flopped at his sides. “I can’t! I need it. At least… I think I do.”
“What kind of answer is that?!” Spark squeaked, rising to her hind legs. “You can’t just go around stealing things because you need them!” She paused and her nose crinkled. “Especially if you aren’t even certain you need them!”
“Exactly,” said Cleo. “And replacing it with a rock? It’s not as if I didn’t notice you’d bumped into me.”
“I switcheroo’d!” he explained. “It’s all I know for pick-pocketing.”
Spark looked up at Cleo. “He’s rather honest for a thief.”
Cleo stared up at the levitating whimsicott. Spark wasn’t wrong. He was being oddly honest. Something didn’t smell right.
“Spark’s got a point,” she said. “Why would you explain yourself? Most criminals I pump for information are so unwilling to give it up that I have beat it out of them.”
The whimsicott paled. “That sounds rather unnecessarily violent.”
Cleo and Spark both turned slack-jawed.
The whimsicott raised his paws in a shrug. “What can I say? You caught me.”
“But…” Spark stuttered. “But you’re the bad guy!” She lowered her head into her paws and groaned. “What a cheesy line…”
“Hey, I’m not a bad guy!” said the whimsicott. “I’m just lost!”
“Then you’re in the same situation as all of us,” said Cleo. “Most pokemon these days are lost.”
“Are they?” He glanced back at the town and made a thoughtful noise, before returning to Cleo. “You two don’t look very lost. You seem to know where you’re going.”
Cleo blinked a couple of times, then sighed. “I give up. You’re not making any sense. Just give back what you stole from me, and we’ll be on our way.”
The whimsicott scratched his fluffy head. “Okay. I’ll give it back, but… can you please help me?”
“That depends,” said Cleo. “You said you need that money pouch, so I’m going to hazard a guess you don’t have anything on you?”
“Nope!” He shook his head sadly. “Just fluffy little me.”
He reached into his cottony down and pulled out Cleo’s brown money pouch. He tossed it towards her, sending it straight through the bubble and into her waiting paws. Immediately, Cleo dropped her psychic and the whimsicott dropped onto his bottom with a grunt.
He stood up and dusted down his behind. “So… are you going to help me?”
“Sorry.” Cleo stuffed her pouch back into her bag and marched past him with Spark on her shoulder. “I don’t help strange pokemon, especially not if they’ve just robbed me. You don’t know who to trust in this day and age.”
“But you can trust me.” He trotted to keep up with her. “I just want you to keep me company for a while.”
“Company?” Cleo twirled on the spot to look back at him.
“Yes!” he said with a smile.
“I’m afraid I don’t do that either.” She turned and marched away, picking up pace to try and lose him.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because you never know who’s going to turn around and stab you in the back.”
“Or steal from you,” Spark added. “Or ‘switcheroo’.”
“Oh.” The whimsicott looked downcast. “But I gave it back, right?”
“Sure,” said Cleo. “But you wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t stolen it in the first place.”
“Well you have my full trust that I won’t do it again!” he said, rushing to keep up with them. “And I won’t stab you in the back either. My claws aren’t even that sharp!” When Cleo didn’t respond, he went on, “I’ll just follow you. You won’t even know I’m here! My name’s Mischief by the way. What’s yours?”
Cleo grit her teeth together, biting back the urge to retaliate. Spark sank down on her shoulder so far she couldn’t even make out the bump under her fur. If he was going to insist on following them, the best thing they could do would be to remain silent in the hopes he’d grow bored and go away?
...
The Outcast town was well behind them now, and the sun was high in the sky, baking the ground and scorching the dry plants. Tough weeds and young trees rose around them, casting shadows that provided some temporary relief from the sun. The ground had grown much more hostile, hard and rocky with large jagged crags that rose up around them, shoved out of place by trees and brambles that had exploded through once-small cracks. Tufts of grass sprouted along stretches of the rugged landscape, dotted by delicate wildflowers that struggled against thorny brambles.
Spark poked her head out of Cleo’s fur and twisted to look behind them. “We’re still being followed…”
“I’m aware.” Cleo didn’t look back, not wanting to prompt conversation with their tag-a-long thief.
“Yes, but I’m getting hungry,” said Spark, “and I’d really like to stop soon for lunch.”
Cleo sighed and slowed to a stop beside a young berry tree. Its sparse branches were rapidly losing their leaves, and overripe berries lay scattered along the floor, many of them dried up from the heatwave. Cleo flopped against its trunk and began rummaging through her satchel.
Spark dropped beside her, glaring at Mischief as he approached them.
“Is it lunch time already?” he asked with a friendly smile. “Time sure flies with company, doesn’t it?” He skipped over with the typical whimsicott gait and examined the canopy.
Cleo and Spark remained silent, cautiously tucking into their berries and deeply wishing the whimsicott would just leave them alone.
He gave a little hop and drifted up towards the branches, scrambling around above their heads. A few yellow leaves drifted down, almost blanketing Spark. They were soon followed by a wrinkly oran berry that hadn’t decided to vacate its home yet. Within moments, Mischief was beside them again, clutching another overripe berry in his paw.
“Argh!” Spark abandoned her lunch and leapt to her feet, sparking vehemently. “I can’t take it anymore! I’m gonna have to say something!”
Cleo watched Spark out of the corner of her eye. Mischief took a wary step back, more-so to avoid the electricity that was dancing over the dry ground.
“Why are you following us around like a growlithe pup?” Spark demanded. “What do you want?!”
Mischief glanced up at the sky then shrugged. “Company.”
Spark placed her paws on her hips. “Seriously?!”
“I think what Spark is trying to say,” said Cleo slowly, “is that first you rob us, and then you follow us around claiming to be lonely. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well…” Mischief scratched his fluffy head and leant back against the slender trunk of a young tree. “You see… thieving isn’t really my style. At least, I don’t think it is. I didn’t like it, anyway. It felt wrong, and you two are really unhappy about it so… I’m gonna guess it’s bad?”
“Of course it’s bad!” Spark snapped. “A hatchling could’ve told you that much!”
Mischief just nodded and juggled his berry between both paws.
Cleo inclined her head on one side. “So you’ve never stolen anything before today?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I mean… you see, I don’t really know why I am, to be honest. I just woke up outside this morning. Around here, actually.” He waved a paw at their immediate surroundings. “I think… I’m lost. I dunno…”
Cleo and Spark stared at him, dumbfounded. Something was very off about this whimsicott. A lot of pokemon slept outside (although it wasn’t recommended given the state of the world) but the more he said, the more strange he seemed.
“Where are you from?” Cleo ventured.
“Oh that I know!” Mischief’s face lit up with a smile. “I’m from the Clean Place!”
Cleo and Spark blinked.
“The what?” Spark asked.
“The Clean Place!” he repeated. “They were really nice there! Those I remember, anyway. Although I only remember being surrounded by other pokemon, and called Mischief. Then I woke up here.” He waved at the ground again.
“You woke up here?” Cleo pointed at the floor between her feet. “This spot, right here?”
“Kind of.” Mischief extended his arm towards the surrounding rugged ground. “I woke up, then headed towards the town because there were pokemon there and I was hungry. Although this tree has berries.” He looked up at the branches above Cleo’s head then took a bite out of his oran berry, sending tangy juices over his chin.
“So where is this Clean Place?” Cleo asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’d never been outside. At least… I don’t think I did. I really can’t remember.”
A brief silence washed over them, broken only by Mischief slurping berry juices off his paws.
Spark looked up at Cleo and said in a hushed whisper, “I think he’s had his memory wiped.”
Cleo shook her head. “He remembers too much for that.” She turned back to the whimsicott. “Mischief… your story doesn’t settle well with me. But I’m starting to think you’re telling the truth.”
“Of course I am,” he said. “Why would I lie?” He then inclined his head on one side and his eyes became distant. “At least… I don’t think I’m lying.”
“Your memories seem to have been tampered with. Can you remember any pokemon from this Clean Place?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. All their faces are blurry. But I remember they were nice to me! And excited, although I can’t remember why.”
“This just cements my fears,” said Cleo. “Why would someone want to tamper with your memories?”
Mischief finished licking his paws clean then gave another shrug. He then dropped to all fours and began examining the berries on the floor.
Spark sighed into her lunch and looked up at Cleo. “You’re thinking of helping him, aren’t you?”
“Not so much ‘helping’,” Cleo replied quietly as she watched Mischief sample one of the dried and rotten berries with some level of disgust. “But I think it would be a good idea to have him with us.”
Spark crinkled her nose in a frown. “Why?”
“So we know where he is,” said Cleo. “I have a funny feeling…” She scratched her head and sighed. “Mischief, if you really want company, then you can tag along with us for a while.”
He stood up and beamed at them. “Really? You’re going to be my friends?”
Spark scoffed a little too loud.
“That’s stretching it a bit.” Cleo gathered up her bag and lowered an arm for Spark to climb back onto her shoulder. The dedenne stuffed the rest of her oran into her cheek pouches before scampering up onto her usual perch. Cleo then turned back to Mischief. “Let’s just say ‘companion’ for now, okay?”
“Okay, Companion For Now!” He bounced lightly on his feet. “So where are we going?”
“Spark and I are on Guild Business,” said Cleo.
“Important Guild Business,” Spark said, puffing out her chest.
“You can follow us for a bit,” said Cleo, “but we’ll part ways when we reach the moors. Maybe you’ll regain your memories before then and can return home.”
“That would be nice,” he said. “But if we’re going to be Companions For Now, I need to know your names. You know mine, I’m Mischief. You are Spark and…” He pointed from Spark then to Cleo.
Cleo grimaced. She hadn’t been planning on giving out their names. “It’s Cleo.” She moved past Mischief to follow the dirt track towards the moors. “If you’re going to tag along, then you’ll need to keep up. We’re on a tight schedule, and we won’t be slowing down for you.”
“You already know I’m quick on my feet!” he said as he skipped lightly after them. “I mean, you had trouble catching me before, right? Wow, I think this is gonna be fun!”
Spark tensed and swished her long tail. “I’m beginning to think Mischief is less his name and something the Clean Place called him for being a nuisance.”
“Ooh look! There’s more berries over here!” Mischief skipped away from them to gather up some fallen berries from beneath a razz bush. Each one had clearly seen better days, and left a purple residue on his paws. “Would you like me to gather some for you?”
“No, no…” Spark’s nose crinkled with distaste. “We’re really fine.”
Cleo grimaced and lowered her head into her collar. If Tinker could see her now, the meowstic who refused to take on an extra companion, he’d roll onto his back laughing.
Alright, looks like I got you for catnip again lol. Anyway, I liked this chapter, overall. Interesting plot and characters. I could go on rambling for such a long time about them but I'll just go for the best parts. Like before I like the dynamic you're setting up. It works and it's interesting enough to keep me reading it(altough I might not read the entire fic due to college getting in the way, oof). Regardless, I do think your story is fun, I will take my time to read it fully during my next vacation, so yeah, you got a new reader! Hooray!
I forgot to quote! Argh! Thanks for the review, Navarchu =D I appreciate it! If you don't have time to read, that's fine. I'm just glad you're enjoying what you've read! Although I'm stoked you want to continue!
22 - The Endless Woods
Dedenne were used to navigating long grass, scurrying through it and scrambling over the slender blades like an acrobat. Spark swung from one blade to another, climbing to the tip where it bent under her weight. She secured herself with her tail as she took a moment to peer ahead of her across the grassy plain. She caught a glimpse of a fluffy, cream head searching the area before she vanished back amid the grass, invisible to any prying eyes.
“Mischief sighted,” she muttered to herself as she took off in his direction.
She could hear the crunch of his feet over the grass, growing louder as he approached the hidden dedenne. She let out a few stray sparks to draw his eye and scrambled up onto a tall, wiry plant dotted with yellow flowers.
“Oi!” she called.
Mischief beamed down at her and she landed by his feet. “Spark! Where’s Cleo?”
“She went off somewhere with Harlequin,” Spark explained, dodging the details.
Mischief nodded and glanced back towards the trees. Spark’s nose crinkled and she inclined her head on one side as she scrutinised the whimsicott. He twitched a couple of times before turning back to her.
“Me?” Mischief pointed a claw at his face and shifted uneasily. “No, I…” He crouched down so he was on her level and lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “I’ve been told something.”
“Oh?” Spark’s whiskers twitched. “Is it bad? Does it concern me?” She paused and her large eyes widened. “Does it concern food?”
“Yes, no and no.”
Mischief glanced back over his shoulder, then stooped to pick up Spark. He popped her down amid his thick, creamy fur and she vanished amid it. She immediately poked her head back out, spitting out tufts of cotton.
“There,” he said quietly. “I can whisper now.”
“You should warn a girl before you pick her up, you know,” Spark scoffed.
Mischief blanched slightly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. So what’s this bad news?”
Mischief fidgeted his paws together and looked back towards the trees.
Spark kicked him in the shoulder. “Suspicious movements.”
“Sorry,” he apologised again. “Don’t we need to find Cleo?”
“Yeah, we agreed to meet along the tree-line somewhere. We should follow it.” Spark rose to her full height and pointed a claw. “Go that way.”
Mischief nodded and plodded along. His light gait was much more bouncy than Cleo’s, and Spark had to clutch onto his fur to avoid tumbling off into the grass.
“Mischief,” she said slowly. “The news?”
“Oh, yes, right.” He scratched behind his horn and his eyes grew distant. “I, erm… I was told not to tell anyone, but…”
He trailed off, and Spark’s cheeks spluttered electricity, setting his downy fur on end.
“Then why bring it up?” Spark quipped. “You know I have no patience. Urgh, now I’m going to be wondering what it is!”
Mischief closed his eyes. “I was told not to tell anyone, but I think I have to. That’s why I brought it up. It’s bad, Spark.”
“Then tell me.”
He sighed and scratched his horn again. “I ran into someone. They said they want to kill Harlequin.”
Spark’s jaw went slack and she stared at the whimsicott, dumbfounded. As the information sank in, she gave a nod and turned to scout where they were going.
“Well it makes sense,” she said. “I mean, she’s an assassin. She’s probably got a lot of enemies.” She paused and turned back to Mischief. “Who was it?”
Mischief gave a weak shrug. “He says he’s an absol. I didn’t get his name.”
“An absol, huh? That’s a little hard to believe.” Spark rubbed her chin in thought. “They were all wiped out, as far as I know.”
“I couldn’t tell you for certain,” said Mischief. “I don’t even know what an absol is. I’ve never met one before.”
“Neither have a lot of pokemon. Like I said. Wiped out.” Spark raised her paws in a shrug. “They used to live in the Shadow Lands, but they weren’t well received anywhere. Hydreigon had them eliminated like… over a decade ago. No one’s seen one since.”
“He was white,” said Mischief. “Dark face, huge scythe-like horn on his head.”
Spark suddenly felt cold and she huddled down in Mischief’s fur. “That sounds like an absol, all right. Oh man… this is huge.”
“Do we tell him?”
Spark inclined her head on one side. “Tell who?”
“Harlequin,” Mischief said in a harsh whisper. “Do we tell him someone wants to kill him?”
“We tell her nothing,” said Spark. “She probably won’t handle it well.”
“Oh, I’m confused!” Mischief dragged his paws down his face. “We need to do something. If someone wants to kill Harlequin, then where does that leave us?”
“We don’t need to do anything. It doesn’t concern us.”
“I don’t want anyone to die, Spark!”
His voice sliced through the air, and Spark looked up on impulse, ears pricked, searching the sky for any sign of movement. As the silence rolled back in, she calmed and settled back in Mischief’s fur. He’d stopped walking, his eyes wide and panicked as he stared down at his paws. Staring at them as though they’d committed a violent crime.
It wasn’t a false accusation, either. Although it was one he clearly hated.
Spark crinkled her tiny nose in thought. This whole thing about the absol… it went beyond Mischief merely wanting to warn Harlequin. If there was some way he could save a life, then maybe it would atone for the one he’d taken?
Spark let out a small sigh. “This isn’t just about the absol, is it?”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and began moving again, more slowly. “What do you mean?”
“You’re worried about those outbursts.”
“Well, I…” He ran a paw over his head. “I know I had another one. That absol, he said he saved you from me. He lured me away, but it wasn’t just to save you. It was because he didn’t want me to kill Harlequin, because he wants to do it.”
Spark snorted and folded her arms. “Then I guess I won’t be giving him a ‘thank you cake’.”
Mischief closed his eyes briefly and looked away from her. Spark’s heart sank slightly and she silently scolded herself for her bad choice of words.
“Listen,” she said. “Have you noticed how you only lose control when you fight?”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t fight?”
“Not at all.” Spark shook her head. “You’ve used attacks without losing your mind, right? I think you just need to look for the signs. Maybe, if you stop before it kicks in, then you can get it under control.”
“There are no signs,” he said. “It just happens.”
“What? You don’t feel anything at all?” Spark asked. “No light-headedness? No ‘snap’?”
He shook his head sadly. “No. I don’t feel anything at all. I don’t even have any memory that it happened, it just does.”
Spark thought on that for a moment. So there were no signs. No indication he was going to lose control. If that was the case, then maybe they couldn’t help him? Not yet, anyway. She wasn’t going to throw away any hope so easily.
“Maybe we can find a cure?” she suggested.
“There might be a cure?” Mischief perked at that, his orange eyes sparkling. “We can fix me?”
Spark bit her lip and looked down at the grass. “Well… as far as I know, no one has ever bothered finding a cure for pokerus. It was always a beneficial parasite. Pokemon would travel miles just to obtain it. Years ago, long before my time, there were champion fighters across Estellis who used it to boost their skills, but it behaved very differently.”
The sparkle left Mischief’s eyes and his expression turned sombre.
“Hey, but don’t lose hope!” Spark placed a paw on the side of his head. “If it’s mutated like this, then someone might look for a cure. Who knows? We might be those pokemon to find it! They could even name it after you.”
He gave her a weak smile. “I’m not sure anyone would want to take a medicine named Mischief.”
“How about ‘Fluffy Nuisance’?”
His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “We can put a pin in that for now.”
The grass parted, bringing the two to a freeze. Spark stood on all fours, adopting a defencive posture. But when she spotted the meowstic emerge from the grass, tailed by Harlequin, she visibly relaxed and a huge smile spread across her muzzle.
“Cleo!”
Cleo shook her head as she stopped before the duo. “You two are much too loud. I could hear you way back there.” She nodded back the way she’d come.
Spark gave a toothy grin. “Maybe it was my plan this whole time to draw you to us.”
“You could have drawn something much worse.” Cleo folded her arms, but a smile still played at her muzzle. “Nice to see you’re okay, Mischief.”
The whimsicott’s eyes trailed over Cleo, noting the wounds that still marred her body, and his smile fell. “I didn’t… hurt you?”
Cleo waved a paw. “This was all Enigma. Don’t worry.”
Harlequin turned their face away and huffed.
“Besides,” Cleo went on, “I’m already feeling a lot better.”
Spark looked between the two before settling on Cleo. “I take it you didn’t find him?”
Cleo shook her head. “There were signs, but it looks like he’s moved on. So we’d better keep our wits about us in the Endless Woods.”
Harlequin tensed, giving a small glance towards Mischief. The fur bristled along the zorua’s spine and they turned their face away again. Mischief’s assault on Enigma was going to be a sore spot for quite a while. And then there was that absol…
Spark wanted to tell Harlequin that there was an absol out there who intended to claim their life. But now wasn’t the time. Telling Harlequin could mean putting everyone’s life at risk. Although there was no saying the absol wouldn’t try to kill each and every one of them in order to get to Harlequin. Leave no witnesses.
But then, why spare Mischief?
Perhaps she could tell Cleo later, when no other ears were listening in. But with Harlequin so close to them, doing so would be tricky.
Cleo inclined her head on one side. “Spark? Are you okay?”
Spark jerked her head up. She’d sank down into Mischief’s fur as she’d tried to wrap her brain around it all. She nodded a couple of times, then yawned. “Just sleepy.”
“Well I’m afraid you’ll have to nap later.” Cleo stretched, grimacing with the effort. “We’ll need to keep our wits about us in the Endless Woods. It’s unknown territory, and the sun will be setting soon.”
...
More than a day had passed since Tinker had confronted the Guild Elites about the egg. Their words still swirled through his mind in a cacophony of chaos, mixed opinions strongly warring to be heard over each other.
‘Are you crazy, Tinker?! We can’t have a baby dragon running around New City!’
‘But he has a point. It doesn’t hatch a dragon-type. It gains that upon evolution.’
‘Yeah, just give it an everstone like you’re wearing, Tinker. Then we won’t have that problem.’
‘But the dragon-typing is in its blood! What if it turns on us?!’
‘Pokemon don’t hatch with morals. It can be raised with ours, like he’s said!’
‘Well my child isn’t playing with it. I doubt I’m alone there, either.’
‘It seems like a good idea on paper, but when it learns what it is, then what?’
‘Exactly! What if it decides to side with Hydreigon? New City could be finished!’
Tinker rubbed the bridge of his muzzle and let out a small sigh. His office felt oddly quiet despite the chaos swirling around in his mind. A soft paw brushed his shoulder and he looked up into the greying face of an alakazam. Grey had barely left Tinker’s office as the pair had tried to come up with some solution to the problem. Not so much down to Tinker’s request - Grey was often good at aiding moral dilemmas - but the alakazam had shown great interest in the egg.
“You need to make the decision soon, Tinker,” said Grey.
The pair looked over at the egg, hidden beneath its thick blanket. Going off how much the egg was beating, it would hatch soon. That didn’t leave Tinker much time. He could set it back outside, and the cool air would turn it dormant again. If it didn’t kill it entirely, that is. That thought didn’t settle well with the riolu at all, but New City were torn. The numbers were against him.
“If this hatches,” he said slowly, “then what chance will a tiny swablu have here in this city? If it’s never accepted…”
“You fear it will turn against us,” said Grey.
Tinker closed his eyes. “Exactly. It could grow up feeling unwanted. If it’s treated as an enemy, then it could become our enemy.”
“Or it could be the exact pokemon we’ve been looking for.” Grey gave him a small smile. “An unexpected ally in this battle.”
Tinker scoffed at that and looked back at the egg. “That was a foolish statement from me, and I regret it. I was looking at things through rose-tinted glasses.”
“Perhaps. But if it grows up knowing our side of the story, it may try to prove its place among us.” Grey paused for a moment and scratched his whiskers. “This divide isn’t as black and white as it seems, Tinker. Every pokemon has some goodness in them. Granted, some have a larger piece of it than others. But who’s to say what this little hatchling will grow up to be?”
“You think I should give it a chance?” Tinker gave the alakazam a sideways glance. “Go against New City’s wishes?”
“I believe everyone deserves a chance.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Rose.” Tinker shook his head and approached the nest. “There is only one solution, Grey, and that’s to get rid of it before it becomes a problem.”
He whisked the blanket aside, snagging the egg in the process. It teetered on the edge of the basket for a fleeting moment, before wobbling over onto his desk. Tinker reached out to grab it, missing it by a fraction. It rolled along the desk, swerving too and fro before it dropped over the edge onto his desk chair. Small, hair-line cracks spread across its surface, and Tinker felt his heart sink.
Well, that had done it. There was little chance it would survive now. He closed his eyes briefly and reached for it. The egg flipped into the air, landing on its other side. Tinker took a step back, almost bumping into Grey who had popped up behind him like a shadow. The pair watched as the egg flipped again, wobbling on the edge of the chair. Tinker leapt forward to catch it before it shattered on the floor.
“Lively little thing,” said Grey.
Tinker didn’t get the chance to reply. Part of the shell exploded away as a small beak pecked its way through. The rest of the shell shattered, scattering across the desk. A pair of fluffy white wings stretched out, shaking the remnants of the shell away. They tucked into the side of a squat, blue body as the hatchling nestled in the remains of the shell, still clasped in Tinker’s paws. A pair of tiny black eyes met his, and the little bird tipped its head to one side and let out a small chirrup.
Tinker’s jaw went slack.
“Well would you look at that.” Grey chuckled and placed his paw on Tinker’s back. “He thinks you’re his mother.”
Tinker cast the alakazam a glare. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The swablu chirruped again and skittered forwards until it was perched on Tinker’s forearm. Tiny. Barely any weight to it. Defenceless, oblivious to the world. As far as it was concerned, its entire world was that office and the two pokemon standing in it. If he was to send it outside now, it wouldn’t survive a day on its own.
The swablu’s little eyes peered into Tinker’s and a smile spread across the bird’s beak.
Tinker gave a small sigh and shook his head at the swablu. “Let me guess. You’re hungry?”
The swablu flicked its wings and bounced on the spot, chirruping with excitement.
Grey laughed and stepped back from Tinker. “I’ll go and see if I can rustle up any berries.”
“Not a word of this to anyone, Grey.”
Grey paused by the door and gave Tinker a warm smile. “You have my word.”
...
Cleo was beginning to understand how the woods had earned the name ‘Endless’. The dark spread of trees seemed to stretch on for an eternity. The variety wasn’t incredible, either. Oaks and sycamores were the dominant variety, their leaves and seeds strewn across the floor, crunching beneath the paws of the small group of pokemon working their way along what Cleo had guessed was the main path. The ground was well trodden beneath its blanket of freshly fallen foliage, winding its way through the trees and shrubberies. Not a sound could be heard from the canopy. It was as if Cleo and her companions were the only pokemon in the entire woods. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised to find that out. They’d not seen a single other pokemon since their encounter with Enigma.
Mischief had taken to moving on ahead of them, a wise choice since Harlequin’s hostility towards him put him at too much risk to lag behind. The zorua had made their feelings very clear. Harlequin refused to accept Mischief’s apology, despite his desperate claims he had no memory of his assault on Enigma. Cleo had eventually told him to drop it, it didn’t matter. If he hadn’t taken down Enigma, they’d all be dead.
Wounded or not, the banette’s condition was still unknown to them, and Cleo was keeping her wits about her perchance he was still tailing them.
Spark poked her head out of Cleo’s fur and looked around with a groan. “This wood just all looks the same. It’d be nice to know where we’re up to. You know… that we’re not just wandering in circles.”
Cleo nodded stiffly. She couldn’t deny the thought had crossed her mind. She glanced over at a knotted oak beside her, and her heart sank slightly. Its twisted trunk, the drooping branches that cascaded down onto the path, the bare and brown ivy vines tangling their way over its gnarled bark. Everything about it seemed familiar. Had they already passed that tree? Or were the Endless Woods just blending together in her mind? She flexed her claws and slashed a cross into the bark.
Harlequin snorted and gave the meowstic an unsettling smirk. “Good idea. Let others know someone has passed this way recently.”
Cleo wiped the sap from her claws onto the leaves of a dock plant and narrowed her eyes at the zorua. “It’s just the one. I’m just wanting to make sure we’re not walking in circles.”
Harlequin chuckled and their smirk widened. “Feeling a little lost are we?”
Cleo ignored the assassin and pressed along the path. Marking that tree had made her feel a bit better. That there was now some sign that would indicate if they were actually making progress. She kept an eye on the passing trees, trying to familiarise herself with their unique structures. The more one looked, the more different the trees began to look. U-shaped bends that forked the tree off into two directions. Ones with low branches thick enough for a larger pokemon to clamber upon and nestle in the crook against the trunk. Sycamores so full of ivy that the vines trailed over the branches to create a curtain around it like the spindly branches of a willow tree. A gnarled and twisted oak with brown, bare ivy vines tangling their way up it… with a cross cleaved into the bark.
Cleo’s heart hit her stomach and she screwed her eyes shut briefly, while Spark groaned from her shoulder.
Harlequin burst into fits of laughter beside them, bowed over as they struggled to remain upright.
Mischief came to a stop to look back at his companions, returning to reality from a daydream he’d been lost in. “Is something wrong?”
Cleo scratched behind her ear and looked around at the canopy. “We might be lost.”
“You are lost!” Harlequin gasped out between bouts of laughter. “You’re so obviously lost!”
“Laugh all you want,” Cleo told the zorua. “Because if we’re lost, so are you.”
Harlequin stifled their laughter, taking a few deep breaths. “Oh, I’m not lost. I’ve just been entertaining myself by watching your feeble attempts to work your way through this place.”
“Like you could do any better?” Spark spat.
“Oh I could.” Harlequin sat up straight. “I might not be familiar with this place, but I know more about it than you lot clearly do. And unlike you, I’m not lost in its spell.”
“Spell?” Spark’s lip curled and she shook her head. “Don’t be daft!”
“I’m not,” Harlequin retorted. “This place is enchanted.”
Spark opened her mouth again, but Cleo raised a paw to silence her before turning back to Harlequin.
“What do you mean ‘enchanted’?” Cleo asked.
“You’re making it sound like some hatchling tale,” Spark scoffed.
“Perhaps. But ’enchanted’ is the best word for it,” said Harlequin. “This place used to be inhabited by gardevoir. Over a century ago, when Hydreigon took over, they combined their powers to create a barrier over the entire woodland. Some consider it an extreme use of the move ‘confusion’ combined with psychic terrain. It messes with the heads of those who enter, even dark-types, throwing them off the trail and causing them to walk in circles. The deeper you get, the more paranoid you become until you either lose your sanity or turn back the way you came. Their enemies would never find the location of the gardevoir, nor would they find their way back out of the woods. They’d be lost in here forever.” A smirk tugged Harlequin’s muzzle. “Did you ever think to question how it got its name?”
Cleo licked her dry lips and looked around at the woods. It looked different now she knew what was going on. More unsettling.
“It sounds similar to Grey’s illusion,” Spark whispered in her ear.
Cleo nodded her agreement. It certainly did. It wouldn’t be beyond the skills of a group of strong psychic-types to create an illusion that could boggle the minds of any that entered it. Cleo could normally pick up on the powers of other psychic-types, but this one had eluded her. Like Grey’s illusion, it was subtle.
However… something didn’t settle well with her at all.
Cleo toyed with her ruff and glanced to the side at the tangled tree. “But… gardevoir were wiped out long before I was born.”
“That’s right. Since Hydreigon commanded all psychic-types be wiped out, as you well know.” Harlequin gave Cleo a mocking smirk that set the meowstic’s fur on end, and she clutched her bag strap tightly. “The barrier here is weakening, you see. Strong dark-types managed to withstand the influence and find the gardevoir’s location. Although what they found was an alarmingly small number, huddled in a tiny village deep in the heart of the woods. They must have been powerful to create this thing. But with none here to reinforce it, it’ll eventually fade out altogether.”
Spark made a thoughtful noise. “So you’re saying it’s not influencing you?”
“I feel it,” said Harlequin. “But it’s not bothering me as such.”
“So you can lead the way?”
Harlequin scoffed. “Why would I help you? I’m a prisoner!”
“So long as we’re stuck in these woods, so are you,” Cleo explained. “That’s motive to help us.”
“Really? They way I see it, as long as I’m in these woods I’m not stuck in some damp, mouldy cell,” said Harlequin. “And, so long as you’re lost, you’re not furthering your cause.”
Mischief cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “We could try this way?” He pointed a paw between the trees, indicating a narrow path that was overgrown with expired wildflowers and nettles. “We’ve not tried this way.”
Harlequin chuckled, but their expression was far from amused. “Go ahead. Follow your crack-pot friend. We’ll see where it leads you.”
Mischief’s face fell and his paw drooped to his side.
“Hey!” Cleo rounded on Harlequin, taking the assassin by surprise. “There’ll be none of that.”
“Yeah, watch your tongue, zorua!” Spark snapped.
Harlequin’s fur bristled along their spine and they rose to their feet. “He hurt my friend!”
“If you think Enigma’s your friend, you’re deluded,” Spark scoffed. “’Cos the things he said to you say otherwise!”
Harlequin’s eyes flashed and they lunged at Spark. The dedenne flinched, cowering in Cleo’s ruff. Cleo took a step back and raised her paws, her ears humming with repressed energy. Harlequin’s jaws snapped shut with a strangled gag and they rolled back from Cleo as the collar was repelled away from her.
Cleo let out the breath she’d been holding and met the livid gaze of the zorua. Harlequin pushed themselves back to their feet, seething, lips drawn back from white canines.
“Enough!” Cleo snapped.
Harlequin let out a low growl, fixing their glare back on Spark. “When you’re off that shoulder, pipsqueak, I’ll shut that mouth of yours for good!”
“Oh yeah?” Spark’s whiskers crackled, filling Cleo’s fur with static. “I’d like to see you try!”
Cleo stamped her foot. “I said enough!”
Her voice cut through the other pokemon’s squabbles, bringing them both to silence. Harlequin didn’t take their eyes off Spark, and the dedenne’s electricity tickled Cleo’s fur.
“This is getting us nowhere.” Cleo tried in vain to smooth out her ruff and nodded to the path Mischief had chosen. “Let’s just follow Mischief’s suggestion and see where it takes us?”
Harlequin scoffed as they reluctantly fell in step behind the meowstic. “Probably in yet more circles.”
Cleo shrugged the zorua off as she joined Mischief on the path. “Spark? Please just stop chiding her. It’ll make this journey a lot easier.”
Spark sank down in Cleo’s ruff. “I’ll try, but urgh, she just pushes my buttons.”
Mischief trudged on ahead of them, dragging his feet through the hidden carpet of leaves beneath the nettles. Cleo stifled a sigh. She wanted to talk to him and tell him things were okay, but it wasn’t a good idea with Harlequin listening in and exacerbating things. Cleo considered sending Spark back and forth to pass hushed messages, but that was just tedious and could result in misunderstandings. Not to mention Harlequin would probably be very vocal about it.
Cleo clawed one of the trees they’d passed, a slender and young thing that stood out regardless. But she wanted to be sure they weren’t walking in circles any more. The silence was growing more and more unsettling. Cleo wasn’t sure if it was a result of the enchantment, or the eeriness of knowing one existed in the first place and was directly influencing them. Her heart began to race at the thought of being stuck in the woods forever, unable to escape. The gardevoir’s enchantment might be fading, but given how long it had been around, it would be unlikely for it to fizzle out in Cleo’s lifetime.
She paused beside the very same slender tree she’d marked mere minutes ago and groaned. Mischief stopped to look back, and he visibly sank.
“Yet more circles,” said Spark.
“I told you.” Harlequin stood just behind them, head lowered. But a glimmer of amusement shone in their blue eyes.
Cleo stared down at the zorua, her mind warring with an elaborate plan. The only one not affected by the enchantment was the only pokemon in their party that would be reluctant to help them. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. If Cleo could pull the right thread, then perhaps Harlequin might actually get them through the woods.
Or they could lead them straight into danger.
Harlequin wasn’t an ally. They were a foe. One who wouldn’t bat an eye at slipping Cleo and her friends one of their poisons before making a swift get-away.
Cleo closed her eyes and sighed. “Harlequin… I’d really appreciate it if you could show us the way through these woods.”
“Really?” Harlequin gave a single laugh. “And why would I do that?”
Cleo cracked an eye open, noting the zorua’s smirk. That question was her way in. A wide-open gate.
Cleo turned her head to face the zorua fully. “Because I helped you search for Enigma.”
Harlequin’s blue eyes widened and they lifted their head, giving Cleo a completely dumbfounded look. “I didn’t really have much choice given we’re stuck together.”
“That doesn’t matter. You needed me to help you,” Cleo went on, “and I did. Granted, I was reluctant. You are our prisoner after all. But I put myself at risk to help you find your friend.”
“But we didn’t find him!” Harlequin snapped.
“That’s not my fault,” said Cleo. “He just didn’t happen to be there, and we lost his trail.”
Harlequin’s shoulders slumped and the fur bristled around their ruff. “I don’t return favours to Outcasts.”
Spark gave a mocking laugh. “You’ve probably never received a favour from an Outcast.”
“Not now, Spark.” Cleo placed her paw on the dedenne’s head, pushing her back down into her ruff. “Harlequin, if anything happens to us in these woods, you’re stuck here. And it’s very unlikely any of your friends are going to find you here. Even if they do, you’re with us. So what’s it going to be? Are you going to take that chance, or lead the way out of this trap?”
Harlequin blinked at her, and they flicked their left ear irritably.
With a sigh, the zorua stood up and moved past her. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll get us out of this wretched place.” They paused, glaring at Mischief. “But this monster keeps its distance from me. Understood?”
Mischief took a step back from her, and his orange eyes filled with tears. Cleo balled her paws into fists so tight her claws cut into her pads. But she bit back a retort. If she angered Harlequin, then they might take back their offer to help them.
Cleo gave Mischief an apologetic nod and he fell into step behind her.
Spark poked her head back out of Cleo’s collar, fixing her eyes on Harlequin’s tail. “You’re not gonna lead us into the Shadow Lands, are you?”
“How big do you think these woods are?” Harlequin scoffed.
“Big enough to get lost in,” said Spark.
“They don’t spread that far,” said Harlequin. “And so long as I’m stuck in this blasted collar then I can’t drag you anywhere, can I?”
“Fair point.” Spark vanished back inside Cleo’s fur.
They followed the zorua in silence, keeping to the less-used path. Nettles snagged at their fur, and wiry plants grabbed their feet like trip-wires. Harlequin seemed to dodge each one, skipping along ahead of them with a grace and agility that seemed to mock Cleo. With each snag, she began to feel like the very plants were pushing her back. A warning, perhaps.
The thought crossed her mind that Harlequin might actually be leading them into danger. They are the enemy, after all. Surely Harlequin would want to trick Cleo and her friends into waltzing right into one of Hydreigon’s traps?
Perhaps the whole of the Endless Woods was one of his traps?
The path wound to the right, cutting through the trees into a patch so overgrown she couldn’t even see the ground. But somehow, she felt that was the right way. Harlequin ignored it completely, skipping on ahead through the nettles. Cleo stared down the path, warring with the desire to take it or follow their foe further into the woods.
Cleo’s bracelet jerked and Harlequin snapped their head back towards her.
“Oi!” the zorua barked. “Are you following me or what?”
Cleo turned from Harlequin and stepped onto the overgrown path.
“No!” Harlequin’s voice rang in her ears as the zorua flailed pointlessly against the collar. “That’s the wrong way, you’ll end up walking in circles again!”
Circles.
The enchantment.
Cleo stepped back from the overgrown path to rejoin Harlequin. That was it. The enchantment was telling her where to go. Now she’d experienced the conflict, she was much more aware of it. Although it did still scream at her. A desperate, silent voice instructing her where to go, and should she go the wrong way it became fierce. It was reminiscent of when she was a young espurr and her classmates had used ‘confusion’ on her. Disorienting, and a little worrying, until it wears off. But it would wear off. If they kept pressing against it, then they should make it through to the other side.
She turned to follow Harlequin, who skipped on ahead once more. But Mischief faltered by the overgrown path, looking between Cleo and where the enchantment was telling him to go. Cleo grabbed his paw and dragged him along behind her, forcing herself through the fog of confusion.
“Cleo, I can’t stand this.” Spark’s voice was muffled by Cleo’s fur, and the small dedenne poked her head out to look back the way they’d come. “We’re lost! We have to go back.”
“We’re not lost,” said Cleo. “It’s just the gardevoir’s enchantment affecting you. Ignore it.”
“But what if it’s not?” Spark asked. “What if Harlequin lied, and she’s not immune to this? She could be leading us the wrong way!” Spark stood on tiptoes to gaze longingly back through the nettles. “We must go back! We are so, totally lost!”
“We’re fine,” said Cleo, as much to herself as to Spark.
“Yeah, we’re fine!” Harlequin turned their head to look back at her. “Just follow me and stop whining!”
“We can’t follow you!” said Spark. “You’re the enemy!”
Harlequin looked away and continued trotting along the path. “Fine. Go back. Get lost in these woods for all I care.”
Spark rubbed her paws together and gazed back through the woods.
“Don’t you dare leave my shoulder,” Cleo warned.
“But-”
“Do you want me to put you in my bag?”
Spark sat down heavily in Cleo’s ruff and folded her arms, but her eyes kept wandering back over her shoulder.
The further they advanced into the woods the more hostile it began to feel. Invisible eyes probing down from the canopy, watching the pokemon below them. Shadows creeping through the trees, stalking their prey. The trees themselves began to warp and twist, their branches reaching down like claws ready to snatch anyone who got too close. Holes in the trunks began to look like wide-open jaws with serrated teeth, open in an eternal scream as they stretched their branches towards the sky. Lost. Lost, frightened and alone.
Cleo’s heart hammered against her ribcage and she looked back down the path. Mischief was lagging badly, and she struggled to keep hold of his paw. Hers was slick with sweat, and she could feel the whimsicott’s entire body trembling along his arm. Spark twitched left and right, her long tail swishing against Cleo’s back.
Harlequin was forced to a stop several times, and barked at them to continue. Their voice was growing more desperate. Were they feeling it too? The zorua’s black tail hung limp behind them, but they seemed to know where they were going. Unless it was all a ruse? Did Harlequin not know where they were actually going?
The trees began to grow closer together, barring the path like an imposing army sent to close them off. Harlequin leapt between two of the trees, vaulting their knotted roots with ease. Cleo scrambled over them, the bark scraping at her arms as she squeezed her way between them. Mischief followed through in a flurry of creamy wisps which drifted on ahead of them.
The path on the other side grew wider as the trees spread out. Daylight leaked down through the canopy, and Cleo lifted a paw to shield her eyes. Harlequin waited a little way along it, and as Cleo headed towards them they took off again in a flash. But a strange sound reached Cleo’s ears. Something that seemed to call out to them, ringing out over the enchantment. A soft noise not unlike a bell. It wasn’t a chilling ring like Enigma’s bell, but one that sparked intrigue. It was almost musical. A tranquil sound that eased away the terror the woods had cast upon them.
Her eye wandered towards a tangle of razz bushes growing just off the path. Jagged thorns stuck out among lush green leaves, and a few berries still clung to the branches. Despite the appearance of it, it felt oddly inviting. Cleo broke away from the path to inspect them, and a yelp of protest came from Harlequin.
“What are you doing?!” the zorua exclaimed as they fought back against the collar, feet flying over loose derbis and kicking up red and orange leaves. “It’s this way! The exit is this way! We’re so close!”
Cleo stretched out a paw to part the thorny branches. On the other side was a wide clearing dappled with sunlight. The soft tinkling noise came from her left and she looked up as a small pokemon drifted out of the bushes. Cleo pushed herself through them, the thorns barely touching her fur. The small pokemon jerked around at the sound and a plump razz berry dropped to the floor. Cleo did a double-take. It wasn’t a pokemon she recognised at all. Its body was silver, and two long arms looped around from its sides holding several small keys. Two tiny black eyes over a key-hole shaped mouth widened with surprise and it turned and bolted away from them, its keys clanged together creating a tuneful chime.
“W-wait!” Cleo stretched out a paw and took off after it.
Harlequin and Mischief jogged after her, the former now oddly silent. The small pokemon vanished beyond the brambles at the edge of the clearing, and as Cleo followed after it the entire clearing warped.
The meowstic skidded to a stop and looked around, transfixed. They were no longer in the woods. Lush grass stretched out around them as far as they could see, dotted in the distance with trees. Colourful wildflowers grew in abundance, and in the distance she could see a sparkling river tracing a path down a green hillside. But what struck her the most were the pokemon. Whereas there had been none in the woods, this place was teeming with them wherever she looked.
Small pokemon she couldn’t identify drifted past them, clutching onto large flowers like parasols. A flock of mareep and flaafy flocked around a lake, grazing and dozing on the green grass. Skidoo and gogoat accompanied them, chatting together while their children skipped about playfully. A few hoppip floated past them on the breeze, and beyond them were so many grass- and water-type pokemon Cleo couldn’t even begin to identify them all. Hundreds from every type she could think of filled the garden. ‘Garden’ was the only word she could think to describe it. Plain, meadow, glade… nothing else seemed to fit.
“Cleo?” Spark’s voice wavered slightly, but her large eyes were glistening with curiosity.
Mischief and Harlequin stood at either side of Cleo, their expressions greatly contrasting. Mischief was watching the other pokemon with transfixed amazement, while Harlequin sat panting heavily with their ears drawn back. Cleo wasn’t sure which category she’d put herself into. Her heart was pounding, yet at the same time she wanted to rush over to the other pokemon and join them.
Spark was the only one who managed to find the words to voice what they were all thinking. “Where are we?”
This particular part of the story has had a HUGE overhaul, and therefore is quite different from the original. This will become more apparent as the scenes in the Fairy Garden progress. I felt the original was jarring, and a little cheesy at points, so I worked it to flow much more smoothly. I hope it will be a memorable point in this story. I also introduced a new character, since there have been a lot more fairy-types introduced since Generation 6! I hope you like him as much as I do ;)
23 - The Fairy Garden
Cleo had no idea how long they were stood there, staring across an ocean of colour. The green grass was soft under her paws, and the sun caressed her with its warm rays. The jovial voices radiating across the garden were like a breath of fresh air, yet it was so bafflingly surreal. The pokemon that passed by were too far away to pay the Outcasts and their prisoner much heed. A few hatchlings rushed by, tumbling through the grass as they fought playfully with one another. A marill, snubbul and sandshrew, splashing through a muddy puddle that the trio had likely created.
Mischief looked up with a start and pointed a stubby paw. “Look! Right there!”
Cleo tipped her head back slightly. Drifting along on the breeze a good way away was a colony of cottonee. Their leafy appendages flapped like lazy wings as they stirred themselves along before vanishing beyond a low cloud.
“They’re just like me!” Mischief gasped.
“Well, you’ve evolved since,” said Spark bluntly.
“Maybe they’re my family!” Mischief zipped away from Cleo. “I want to meet them!”
“Wait!” Cleo stretched out a paw, but caught only air as a voice caused her to stumble.
“Hello there!”
Mischief froze in his tracks and all eyes turned to their left. Trotting towards them were a mawile and gardevoir. The latter took Cleo by surprise and she took a step back from the tall psychic-type. But neither meant any threat. Not if the warm smiles each of them wore was anything to go by. The mawile ran on ahead of her friend, the huge pink bow around her horn bobbing up and down as she skipped towards Cleo.
“I don’t believe we’ve met you before!” said the mawile with barely contained excitement. “I take it you’ve just found yourselves here?”
The gardevoir folded her paws neatly before her. “We’ve not had any new pokemon wandering in here for quite some time.”
“Huh.” Spark twitched her little nose. “That enchantment over the Endless Woods probably has something to do with that.”
The gardevoir’s eyes widened slightly and she looked up at Spark. “Enchantment?”
The mawile chuckled and shook her head. “Don’t be so silly! Enchantments don’t exist!”
“The gardevoir enchantment over the Endless Woods!” Spark explained. “The one that boggles the minds of all who enter it, confusing them and sending them nuts!”
The mawile’s jaw dropped slightly as she appeared rendered speechless.
“You’re right, Spark.” Cleo took a step back from the two new pokemon. “The barrier… the woods have vanished. Maybe this is all caused by that strange enchantment. We should probably try and find our way back.”
“What are you saying, Cleo?” Mischief’s expression turned wounded and his shoulders sank. “This place… is this all a lie?”
“Of course it’s not a lie!” the mawile gasped.
“Then how do you explain this?” Cleo asked, her breath coming in fitful bursts. “Where’s the Endless Woods gone? We were lost in it, and so close to getting out, then this happened!”
The mawile raised her paws to calm the frantic meowstic. “This is the Fairy Garden. It’s hidden.”
Cleo shook her head. “Hidden?”
“Allow us to explain.” The gardevoir took a step towards her and gave her an apologetic smile. “This place is protected. It can only be found by those who are genuinely seeking it. Over time, pokemon find their way here, either by hearing about it or stumbling through the woods looking for sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary…” It was Harlequin who’d spoken, still trembling but their panting had calmed somewhat.
The mawile turned her attention onto the assassin. “Exactly! Although you’re the first dark-type to find your way here in quite some time.”
“I’m Hope,” said the gardevoir. She gestured to the mawile beside her. “And this is Faith. We want to welcome you here. And if you have any questions, we’ll do our best to answer them.”
Questions. Well, Cleo had a lot of them. But where did she even start? She found herself surveying the garden again, trying to take it all in. Was this place actually real? Or had the Endless Woods actually got to them?
“It looks like those tapestries…” Harlequin’s voice wavered, and was more aimed at themselves than Cleo or the other pokemon. “What’s going on…?”
Faith inclined her head on one side. “Tapestries?”
Cleo didn’t get the chance to explain. A soft music reached her ears and the two pokemon before her perked up and swivelled towards the hills on their left. Cleo turned her head to see where the music was coming from. Circling in the air were three altaria, humming a jovial melody. Below them was a pokemon that caused Cleo’s breath to freeze in her throat.
A colourful stag strolled towards them, his antlers radiating a soft light. Wherever his hooves touched, small flowers erupted from the ground like a rainbow river. He looked at each of Cleo and her companions in turn before his eyes fell on the quaking zorua beside her.
“I’m dreaming,” Harlequin choked. “I have to be dreaming…”
“Xerneas!” Faith clapped her paws together.
As the stag drew closer, Hope and Faith dropped to their knees in a bow. Despite her confusion, Cleo found herself mimicking them. Mischief dropped beside her, and Spark left her shoulder to kneel on the soft grass. A little away from her, Harlequin, still shaking so much they struggled to remain upright, lowered their head so their nose was brushing the grass.
“You can stand.” Xerneas voice was warm, calming Cleo’s nerves.
The meowstic looked up to meet his warm smile. His eyes were friendly with a warmth Cleo found welcoming, and he gave off a regal air that made her feel he could tip Hydreigon straight off his throne. She recalled those tapestries once more. That black bird, easily defeated by this very pokemon.
“Welcome to the Fairy Garden,” he said. “You are safe here. You can leave all your fears and worries behind.”
He turned to Harlequin again. The zorua stood away from Cleo, head lowered and ears back. Their blue eyes remained fixed on Xerneas, glistening with tears that trailed salty streaks over their black fur.
“I have been watching your progress, young zorua.” Xerneas nodded at Harlequin. “Come with me.”
Harlequin’s eyes widened, watching after Xerneas as he turned to lead them back towards the hills. The zorua began to follow after him, slowly at first, then picking up pace as they tried to catch up.
Cleo took a few steps after them. “Wait! Harlequin is chained to me, she can’t-”
There was no tug at the bracelet. Harlequin left the boundary, following Xerneas as he vanished over the crest of the hillside. The altaria’s song faded out as they continued their joyful dance through the sky after Xerneas. Cleo stared at the bracelet, aghast.
“Is it broken?” Spark suggested.
“It was working in the woods just before,” Cleo mused. “Maybe it doesn’t work here?”
“I don’t believe it.” Mischief’s eyes sparkled as he stared at the spot the stag had vanished. “That was Xerneas? He’s real?”
Faith beamed and bounced from foot to foot. “So! Shall I show you around? There’s so much I want to show you! You should see the abbey! And the lake! Oh, the evening Dazzle Dance is spectacular, you simply must see it! And-”
Cleo raised her paws, and Hope placed a paw on Faith’s shoulder.
“Too much too fast,” Hope explained. “Please forgive her,” she told Cleo. “She gets very excited.”
Faith’s cheeks were dusted pink and she glanced aside. “There are good things to be excited about! How often do we get new pokemon here these days?”
“Listen,” said Cleo. “I’m still not sure what’s going on. If this place is truly real, and is some amazing hidden garden, how on earth have you not been attacked by Hydreigon? Does he even know about it?”
“It’s protected,” said Faith. “You heard Xerneas. You’re safe here.”
“And you just live here?” Cleo asked. “Not fighting? Not standing up for those who are out there, struggling?”
Faith’s jaw went slack and Hope looked between the mawile and the Outcasts.
“We do go out there,” Hope explained. “There are many of us. We go out and tell pokemon about the Fairy Garden, offering aide where it’s needed. Right now, there are many of our warriors out there helping pokemon in need. We put our lives on the line for this place.”
“And this place? How long has it been here?” Cleo asked.
“Since the beginning.” Faith shrugged. “It’s always been here.”
“Really?” Spark placed her paws on her hips. “Then how have we not heard about it since two days ago?”
“Two days?” Faith’s violet eyes widened and she shook her head slowly. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“To use the term ‘hearing about it’ isn’t quite right,” Cleo explained. “We saw some tapestries. Inside the ruins of an abbey not far from here… the Endless Woods, I mean.” She waved a paw at the garden, but Faith was staring at her, no longer smiling. “They showed a location like this, and a war with some black bird and Xerneas.”
“Ruins?” Faith asked.
“We’d also never heard of Xerneas until we encountered that abbey,” Cleo went on. “Which is why I keep wondering if this is all just some hallucination or illusion caused by that enchantment.”
Spark turned her head towards her. “If it’s a hallucination, Cleo, then how are we all seeing the same thing?”
Faith looked up at the gardevoir beside her. “I don’t like this. There are pokemon who have never heard of Xerneas?” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I thought things were getting bad, but I never expected it to be this bad.”
“Our evangelists have been struggling,” said Hope. “It’s been a long time since we were last sent.”
“And the Gleamgrove Abbey is in ruins? It doesn’t feel that long ago since we were last there!” Faith closed her eyes and sighed. “I really liked that place.”
“Are you serious?” Spark scoffed. “That place looks like it’s been derelict for centuries!”
“It really has been a while, Faith,” Hope explained. “Many of the pokemon there found their way here a long time ago.”
“But for it to fall into ruin?” Faith shook her head sadly. “It was a happy place.” She wound her paws together and looked back up at Cleo. “Some of what you’ve said has unsettled me greatly.”
“Likewise!” Spark squeaked. “How old are you guys?”
Faith chuckled and placed her paws on her knees as she leant over towards Spark. “Death has no power in the Fairy Garden.”
Hope gave Cleo a warm smile. “If you wish to know more, then we are happy to answer any questions you must have. If all you have to go on are those tapestries, then your knowledge of the war between Xerneas and Yveltal must be very little indeed.”
“I want to know more about it,” said Mischief. “I want to know all about this place! I’ve never seen so many pokemon who aren’t afraid or don’t want to hurt me.”
“Hey!” Spark frowned up at him.
“You wanted to hurt me once,” he told her.
Faith laughed again and turned to address Hope. “It might be a good idea to start with the library. I’m sure Reshi would be more than happy to tell them the story! He spends all day with his head buried in books.”
“The library?” Spark leapt back up onto Cleo’s shoulder. “I’ve never been to one.”
“It’s just behind The Heart! It’s so big it towers over the abbey! If you like books you’ll love it!” Faith skipped away from them then twirled in the air to face them again briefly. “Hey! What am I saying? You’ll love it anyway!” She zipped along a path that weaved around the hills.
Cleo blinked a few times then turned to Hope. “She’s quite energetic, isn’t she?”
“She loves meeting new pokemon.” Hope smiled down at her. “But she’s truly lovely. Should we go to the library?”
“How long will it take her to notice we’re not following?” Spark joked.
Hope laughed and ushered them along. “She’ll probably notice by the time she reaches the library, so we’d best not leave her waiting.”
...
Faith rushed along the winding path that cut between the vibrant flower beds, pausing every now and again to give Cleo and her friends the chance to catch up. Mischief zipped on ahead of Cleo, eager to reach this library Faith had promised to show them. Cleo was finding herself rapidly running out of breath, yet Faith was showing no sign of slowing down, throwing encouraging words their way to keep on running.
When the tall spire of the library came into view, the mawile pointed at it eagerly. The sun reflected off it, painting the ivory-white stone with a golden glow. Cleo found renewed energy now it was in sight, and picked up her pace, catching up with Mischief. Faith waited beneath the huge stone arch that stretched over the library’s double doors. They were made of a heavy mahogany wood, and etched into them was the same cross marking that Cleo had seen in the ruined abbey.
“We’re here!” Faith chirruped.
Cleo was too busy trying to catch her breath to respond. She doubled over with her paws on her knees, almost sending Spark tumbling from her shoulder.
“How are you not exhausted?” Spark asked, somewhat ironically.
Faith beamed at that, and Hope appeared beside them.
“You get used to it,” said the gardevoir. “Faith is always zipping around like a beautifly on the first day of the flower season.”
“No, I don’t think I have that kind of stamina,” said Spark.
Faith chuckled and clasped her paws behind her back. “I find it hard to believe a strong pokemon like you doesn’t have much stamina!”
“Not gonna lie,” said Spark. “I could do with some refuelling.”
Cleo rolled her eyes and stood up straight.
“Then we can eat as soon as I’ve shown you the library.” Faith turned to the door and gave them a hefty shove. “You’re going to love this! And I’m certain all your questions will be answered in here.”
The arch towered over them, making Cleo feel incredibly small. The library was clearly designed to accommodate pokemon of all shapes and sizes. The smell of old books washed over her, tickling her nose. It was far from unpleasant. It felt warm and welcoming, without even the hint of must or mildew. The walls were decked with mahogany shelves, polished until they glistened in the light of a huge crystal chandelier. Each stretch of wall had a ladder propped up against the towering book cases allowing smaller pokemon to reach higher shelves.
Ahead of them was a winding wooden staircase leading up to another two floors. Both were guarded by a high mahogany fence, and each floor sported its own spread of bookshelves. Each floor was equipped with wide tables, and a few pokemon were spread out among them reading or discussing their chosen books quietly to each other.
“Wow. Look at this place,” said Spark quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever read a book before.”
“Well these ones are the same size as you,” said Cleo, keeping her voice low.
“I don’t care for that comment, Cleo.”
“But it’s true.”
“I know, but I still don’t care for it.”
Cleo’s paws were silent on the plush red carpet. The Outcasts drew interested looks and friendly smiles from the library’s occupants, but the pokemon quickly returned to their tasks. Hope and Faith gained familiar waves, which the pair eagerly returned. Cleo soon realised that Faith wasn’t taking them to a specific book. Her eyes flew in all directions, and she paused beside the staircase, craning her head back to see up to the second floor.
“He’s got to be in here somewhere,” she muttered quietly.
“Are you looking for me?”
The deep, rumbling voice came from above them, taking Cleo by surprise. It wasn’t loud, nor fierce, but the pokemon it came from elicited a startled squeak from the meowstic.
A huge white head peered down at them, almost canine in appearance. The pokemon was gigantic, and covered in white feathers. He leant across the fence, holding himself in place with a set of blue wing claws.
“Reshi!” Faith beamed and stood back from the stairs to get a better view of the white pokemon. “There you are! We have some new pokemon who you might like to meet.”
“I’m always up for meeting new pokemon, Faith.” Reshi gave them a toothy grin that reminded Cleo of a slightly more friendly sharpedo. “I’ll be right down.”
The large pokemon vaulted the fence and spread his wings to cushion his drop. Cleo ducked out of the way, standing away from Hope and Faith. Her eyes never left the huge, feathered pokemon. He landed with little sound for his colossal size, and seemed to take up a lot of space between the shelves. His presence made the library feel smaller, yet it was more than capable of catering to this specific pokemon. Cleo had never seen one like him. A strange combination of reptile, canine and bird, but what he was stood out like a red rose in a field of white.
“You’re a dragon.” The words left her throat before she even had the chance to fully comprehend them.
Mischief looked up with a start, looking between Cleo and the white dragon.
Spark cowered slightly in Cleo’s ruff, leaving only her head poking out. Despite her anxiety, the dedenne’s expression was fierce.
The feathered dragon looked down at himself and chuckled. “Oh would you look at that! So I am.”
Hope and Faith stared back at Cleo and her friends with matching smiles.
“You have nothing to worry about,” said Faith. “Reshiram is a friendly dragon.”
“He’s a fantastic worker for Xerneas,” Hope explained, “and one that pokemon here - new and old - often go to for advice, information or even just a chat.”
“He’s also a great story-teller!” Faith added.
Reshiram chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that seemed to fill the entire library. “I could talk your ear off if you let me.”
“But I thought all dragons worked for Hydreigon,” said Spark.
“Not me,” said Reshiram. “I came here many years ago, before Hydreigon took over Estellis. The world was too busy searching and building warped ideals, which unsettled me greatly. So I went on a long voyage in search of truth. My search lead me here. Everything I’d been looking for was in this garden, and I spend most of the day reading up on Xerneas, and Estellis’ history.”
“And you never wanted to join Hydreigon?” Spark asked. “Given what he’s promising?”
Reshiram’s smile fell and his head feathers drooped. “Oh no. Not at all! Why would I leave all this?” He sighed and shook his head. “He’s a sad case, that Hydreigon. A perfect example of a pokemon lost in worldly ideals. He hasn’t a clue that what he’s doing spells even his own disaster.”
Cleo’s mouth flapped open as she tried to find the right words. Something in what Reshiram had said didn’t quite add up in her mind.
“But if he’s wiping out all pokemon except dark- and dragon-types,” said Spark, “then how does that spell his own disaster? Surely that’s only bad for us, right?”
Hope closed her eyes and folded her paws together. “Oh dear.”
Faith placed a paw on Reshiram’s wing. “These pokemon arrived here just moments ago. They hadn’t even heard of Xerneas or Yveltal until yesterday.”
Reshiram started slightly and raised his head. “Well I’ll be.”
“We brought them here since you’re the best story-teller in the Fairy Garden,” Faith explained. “Sure, we could explain, but you have a certain pizazz.”
Reshiram gave a rumbling laugh. “Well that’s high praise! All right. Please, follow me. I don’t want to distract the pokemon trying to study here.”
Cleo caught the glances of the other pokemon who had fallen silent, watching their interactions with curiosity.
Reshiram scrambled up the stairs, using his wing-claws to steady himself on the rails. His thick tail swung behind him, and to avoid being accidentally bowled back down the stairs, Cleo waited a moment before climbing up after him. The stairs were conveniently structured with shallower steps alongside the deep ones where smaller pokemon like Cleo could climb up with ease.
Mischief hopped up the shallow steps until he was beside Reshiram. “Are you the only dragon living here?”
“I’m not,” said the dragon. “There are two more besides myself.”
“One of them works in the kitchen,” said Faith. “His fire comes in handy!”
“If you have dragons here,” Cleo asked, “then are any dark-type pokemon living in the Fairy Garden?”
“Not very many at all, I’m afraid,” Faith said sadly. “We have a family of impidimp and their evolved kin, and a pair of umbreon. But that’s really it.”
“We’ve struggled to fight against Hydreigon’s influence over them,” said Hope. “But it’s not an impossible fight by any means. Your zorua friend managed to find us after all!”
“Not by choice,” said Cleo. “She was chained to me.”
“I doubt that,” said Hope. “Pokemon can’t find this place if they aren’t looking for it.”
“Precisely.” Faith gave Cleo a reassuring smile. “If she didn’t want to be here, then she would have just been standing in that clearing wondering where you had all vanished to.”
Cleo mulled over those words, trying to make sense of them. Was it really possible that Harlequin wasn’t working for Hydreigon by choice? Were they actually seeking some kind of sanctuary?
‘What you’re clearly too blind to see is that in the Shadow Lands it’s either obey, run for your life, or die!’
Cleo closed her eyes. Those words echoed around her head. Had the Outcasts been wrong the whole time? Did those who worked for the Darkness need help as much as everyone else? Even the Heretics, so warped and twisted by fear of Hydreigon that they revered the odious dragon? Harlequin and Rio had both mentioned outlaws. A group made up of dark- and dragon-types who had rebelled against Hydreigon. The Guild wouldn’t help them. They didn’t even acknowledge them. Any knowledge of them was dusted under the rug, hidden from Guild Warriors and any other pokemon. Captured or killed on sight by both the Guild and Hydreigon.
It was little surprise Harlequin would have wanted sanctuary. Peace away from the war. They’d found it. How many others would follow suit? No… would others follow suit?
They reached the top floor and Reshiram spread a wing towards a large table. “Please take a seat. I’ll be with you shortly. I just have to find the right books to show you.”
Cleo dragged herself up onto a chair a little too high for her, and Spark bailed her shoulder to land on the table. Cleo took a look around at the floor. It was empty and quiet compared to the ground floor. Mischief and the others gathered around her, with both Hope and Faith sitting opposite them.
“Now to get the book we need.” Reshiram peered around one of the bookcases. “NyukNyuk?”
Spark blinked a few times. “What is he doing?”
“NyukNyuk is the assistant librarian,” Hope explained. “Reshiram is currently training him.”
“Oh!” Spark flushed. “That’s… an unusual name.”
Reshiram raised his head to look over at the far bookcases. “Where is he? I thought I left-”
A dark shadow spread across the floor and an unusual pokemon popped out of it before Reshiram. “Nyuk!”
Reshiram raised his foot with a surprised yell.
Cleo almost fell from her seat, and Spark landed flat on her bottom. A strange, child-like laughter came from the odd pokemon. It looked a bit like a pikachu, but its head flopped back at an unnatural angle as the pokemon tipped backwards. Two eyes glistened through holes in its torso, sparkling with amusement.
Reshiram chortled and lowered his head towards the pikachu-like creature. “What did I tell you about playing jokes? You’re supposed to be working.”
The strange pokemon let out a garbled string of speech that sounded alien to Cleo. Reshiram nodded his head and straightened.
“Very well. But break-time is over. I need you to find me the book on Yveltal’s Fall.”
A shadowy claw stretched out from beneath the creature’s cloth garment, and it saluted. It melted back into the floor and vanished beneath the nearest bookcase.
“What was that?” Cleo asked.
“Ah, I guess you won’t have met one before.” Reshiram turned towards her and beamed. “NyukNyuk is a mimikyu. He arrived here not too long ago, eager to both work and learn.”
“I didn’t understand a word he said,” said Spark. “That was talking, right?”
“He’s not from the mainland,” said Reshiram. “His kind used to live on a remote island well off the coast of the Shadow Mountains.” His expression fell and he clasped his wing-claws together. “It fell under attack from Hydreigon twenty years ago now, and remained under siege for some time. Sadly all the ghost-types were wiped out, including Nyuk’s family. Xerneas found him and brought him here.”
Cleo’s heart sank. “How sad! I’d never even heard of his kind before.”
“You did say so many pokemon have been wiped out, there are species you’ve never seen,” said Mischief. “Right?”
Cleo nodded stiffly. It was a sad fact. She was too young when the war really hit. Pokemon were eliminated left and right, forcing pokemon to move south across Estellis, as far from the Shadow Lands as possible.
“So why is he dressed like a pikachu?” Spark asked.
“Tradition,” said Reshiram. “His kind dress up as other pokemon in order to fit in. Their true forms can’t be comprehended by our eyes, you see. Pokemon have sadly lost their sanity trying to work them out. This distresses the mimikyu, so the costumes are actually for our benefit. They choose a pokemon they like the most and dress up as it.”
“Nyuknyuknyuk!” The mimikyu scurried around the bookshelves carrying a large book in his shadowy claws.
His tiny eyes sparkled with glee as he held it up to Reshiram. The white dragon took it and smiled at the little ghost-type.
“Thank you, little one,” he said. “You’re learning fast!”
NyukNyuk garbled something in his tongue and looked up at Cleo and her friends.
“You’d like to join us?” Faith asked.
“Nyuk!” The mimikyu turned his smile on her.
“Very well! I’m all for keen learners. You can never hear this story too many times!” Reshiram motioned for the mimikyu to sit down with Hope and Faith.
NyukNyuk shook his head then leapt into the air and vanished, reappearing between Cleo and Mischief. Cleo let out a yell of surprise that she swiftly regretted when NyukNyuk smiled at her. He’d managed to take up what space was left on her seat. His outfit might have been unsettling, with its scrawled face and floppy, broken appearance but the pokemon behind it was clearly kind, and just like her.
Cleo chuckled and placed her paws on the table. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Reshiram rumbled with friendly laughter and settled down on the floor beside them. “Now that we’re all settled, I can begin! This is a long tale, that took place many, many years ago, in this very garden.”
Cleo, Spark and Mischief straightened in their seats as they watched Reshiram. He had the book open on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. He turned it towards them, and across the double-spread was a picture of Xerneas and the red and black bird they’d seen on the tapestry.
“It was a war,” Reshiram went on, “between the forces of good and evil. An immense battle that stretched on for years, even to this very day, between light and darkness.”
...
A/N - Next week will be the first in the two-part special 'Of Light and Darkness'. Some may remember it from the Myths and Legends contest (which I never made, cos I went well over the limit!) It has also been re-worked with feedback taken into consideration. The original write-up of The End had the story nut-shelled, but I thought it would work better fleshed out as its own story this time around. I know some people might not read Specials, but I strongly recommend it as it answers a lot of questions and is very important to the overall plot =D
The grass was warm beneath Harmony’s feet as she strolled over the hills. Her chores in the abbey kitchen complete, the gardevoir was now free to relax for the afternoon. Pokemon dozed in the shade of the orchard’s spreading branches, and she smiled at a kommo-o fast asleep with an elektrike curled up beside him.
She weaved her way down towards the river, following its course upstream towards the dojo. At this time of day, pokemon would be training outside, building their skills for the upcoming tournament. Pokemon used their abilities in light-hearted contests of strength, or in artistic displays and dances. Not only that, but a pokemon’s skills were also useful in everyday tasks. Sandshrew and sandslash would dig up the ground to turn the soil in preparation for planting crops. Water-types would then water the soil, or cool the ground on blisteringly hot days. Dragonite, pidgeot and corviknight could carry smaller pokemon from one place to the next, much faster than travelling on foot. So pokemon strove to build up their endurance at the dojo, and it also offered a way to relax.
The water frothed up beside her, cooling the grass as a dratini zipped by, racing against a squirtle and marill. They shouted playfully to one-another as their voices faded away into the gurgle of the rushing water.
As Harmony approached the dojo, the yells from the pokemon occupying it reached her ears. A large group was gathered outside, crowding around the training zone. Purple light shattered off sunset embers, creating a dazzling explosion against the invisible screens held up by meowstic, metagross and gigalith. Harmony knew that combination anywhere. She felt a smile spread across her face and she picked up pace, eager to catch the end of the match. The gathered pokemon parted to give her space, and she spotted an alakazam crouched on the sandy ground. A turtonator wiped a paw across his jaws, scattering embers.
“A nice counter, Furnace,” said the alakazam.
He raised his twin spoons, sending another dazzling array at Furnace. The turtonator’s eyes widened with surprise, and he turned his back. Flames spread over his spiky shell. The dazzling gleam washed over him, and he flopped onto his stomach.
A meinshao acting as referee raised a paw. “Furnace is out! The winner is Mindstorm!”
The alakazam pushed himself up and strolled over to the turtle-like dragon. Furnace sat up and rubbed a paw over his head.
“You got me,” he said with a laugh.
Mindstorm offered a paw and helped Furnace to his feet. “You need to remember your shell trap is only good against physical attacks, my friend.”
Furnace rubbed the back of his head and glanced away. “I, er… I was caught a little off-guard.”
Harmony clapped her paws, drawing the dragon-type’s eye.
Furnace flushed. “You saw that, huh?”
“I caught the end of the match,” she said. “You might have won if you’d countered his attack with a flamethrower instead.”
Furnace chuckled. “I really need to get past my default.”
“It’s a great defence! I learned fast not to use zen headbutt against you.” Harmony laughed.
“No, it’s just typical of the fairy-type.” The voice came from the crowd, drawing the eyes of the surrounding pokemon. A large, black bird stood watching them, his crimson eyes narrowed. A fang flashed in his draconic beak as he tutted. “There’s no skill involved at all.”
“There is skill, Yveltal,” said Harmony. “Only last week, Furnace here almost defeated me.”
Furnace grinned at that.
Yveltal tutted again and he straightened. “I think the key word there is ‘almost’.” He gestured to the crowd with the wave of a long, ebony wing. “Tell me. Has anyone here ever won a match against the fairy-type?”
“I’ve won my fair share of matches,” said an aggron.
“Sorry, allow me to correct myself.” Yveltal gave the aggron a fierce sneer and turned away from him to address the crowd. “Has anyone of dark, fighting or dragon typing ever won a match against the fairy-type?”
A few murmurs spread through the crowd as the pokemon rose into a discussion amongst themselves, and Yveltal flashed a grin at Harmony.
“I think I’ve made my point,” he said.
Harmony exchanged glances with Furnace. “It’s all about strategy, Yveltal. Anyone can win if they use the correct moves. I’ve seen flying-type pokemon win fights against electric-types on more than one occasion.” Harmony placed a paw on the alakazam’s shoulder. “Mindstorm here isn’t even a fairy-type. He just uses the moves as his strategy in battle, otherwise he’d struggle against a dark-type like you.”
Yveltal’s canines flashed and he crouched down on his wings. “All right then. If it’s all down to strategy, then why don’t you fight me?”
Harmony considered this, looking over at the crowd. Like most other pokemon, she enjoyed a battle. It helped her to relax. But something in Yveltal’s tone unsettled her.
Furnace placed a warm paw on her shoulder. “Harmony, you don’t have to do this.”
“It’s okay.” She placed her paw over his and gave him a fond smile. “If he wants a battle then I’ll give him one. We’ll just have to put our match on hold, Furnace.”
He returned her smile, somewhat uncertainly, and stood to the side.
Harmony turned to Yveltal and met the ebony bird’s eyes. “Okay, Yveltal. I’ll fight you. I’ll prove to you strategy is involved.”
Yveltal gave a curt nod and tucked in his wings before strutting out into the battle zone. A veil of light flew across the audience as the psychic-types raised their barriers.
The pair made their way to the middle of the battle zone, and Yveltal reared himself up into a battle stance. He was no pushover. Harmony knew that much. The jet-black bird had showcased his fair share of battles, often coming out on top. Harmony had even beaten him herself once before, back when she was a kirlia. Yveltal had laughed it off, stating he’d put a claw wrong and accidentally thrown the match. If it was an accident, he’d been good about it. But seeing him now, she couldn’t help but think he held it against her. Something was amiss, and she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it.
Furnace stood near the front of the crowd of onlookers, the barrier shimmering before his worried face. She knew he’d jump into the ring if it came to it.
The meinshao referee raised his paw and stood back until he was just outside the ring. “A battle between Yveltal and Harmony! Start!”
The referee’s instruction was barely out as Yveltal opened his mouth wide. A pulse of black energy fired towards Harmony, and she leapt to the side. She grimaced as it seared her shoulder, burning away the fur. She glanced at her exposed skin, angry and red, then fixed her attention back on Yveltal. Attacks didn’t usually do that level of damage.
He beat his wings, rising into the air. It whipped up around him, forming into a blade. She rolled to the side, and the sand around her exploded as his attack struck where she’d been sitting.
She lifted her paws to ready a dazzling gleam, but Yveltal noticed it. Before the attack left her paws, something black struck her across the head. Stars danced across her vision, and her attack fizzled out. Yveltal landed before her and a smirk spread across his beak.
Melody took a breath and pushed herself up. In one swift motion, she flicked up her paws to create another dazzling gleam. Yveltal let out a snarl, sending dark energy washing over her. The attack came out weaker, but it still struck home. Yveltal hissed and flinched back from her. Then he vanished into thin air.
Sharp claws raked her back and she yelled, stumbling forwards into the sand. He appeared again before her and buffeted her with a wing, sending her soaring back towards the crowd. The onlooking pokemon scurried back, but she fell just shy of the barrier. She masked her grimace with a quick flick of her arms as Yveltal rose into the air once more. Dazzling light struck him square in the chest. He let out a shriek as he lost his momentum and spiralled back down to the ground. He landed on all-fours and, eyes flashing with rage, he threw his head around towards her spewing purple flames. They washed over Harmony as harmless as water.
Now it was Harmony’s turn to vanish. She teleported just as Yveltal charged towards her. She reappeared behind him and raised her paws high, forming a pink sphere above her head. It expanded in size rapidly, and once it was just heavy enough to manage, she launched it towards Yveltal.
The bird scrambled to get away from it, but the moonblast crashed down on his back. Yveltal crumpled beneath it with an enraged howl. Once it dissipated, he pushed himself up, spitting sand.
The referee raised his paw again and beamed. “Yveltal is down! The winner is Harmony!”
Yveltal’s canines showed in his beak, and he lowered his head to look back at the gardevoir.
Harmony nursed the burn on her shoulder, and her paw pulsed with pink light. It quickly vanished, removing any chance of concerned statements from Furnace or any of her other friends. With a smile on her face she approached Yveltal, who looked up and met her smile with a blank expression.
Harmony offered a paw. “That was a good fight. You certainly threw a few surprises my way! You had me on my toes for sure.”
A strange strangled noise came from deep within his chest as one of his canines became exposed. “Are you mocking me?”
Harmony blinked and retracted her paw. “No, I… I was congratulating you.”
“Is that all you do?” he hissed. “Beat us down then act all nice?!”
He leapt at her with such speed she didn’t even see it. His sharp beak fastened around her throat and she let out a terrified scream. She landed hard on her back, struggling to shove the large bird off her. Then he grunted and fell back, tumbling away across her legs.
A warm light fell over them and Harmony opened her eyes to find Xerneas stood over them. Yveltal lay at her feet in a crumpled heap of oily feathers, a dejected look on his face. Specks of red dotted his beak, and Harmony lifted a paw to her neck. It came away with a crimson streak across her claws.
“There will be none of that,” Xerneas told Yveltal. “It was a fair fight. You need to learn to have a little more dignity, my friend.”
Yveltal scoffed and pushed himself up. “There was nothing fair about it.”
Xerneas blinked at him silently.
“The fairy-type tears through us,” Yveltal went on. “Dragon-, dark- and fighting-types don’t stand a chance! It tears through us like we are nothing!” He turned his glare back onto Harmony. “But I’ll find a weakness. One you share with all of us! And I’ll expose it.”
With that, he spread his wings and took off into the sunset.
Xerneas lowered his antlers to help Harmony back to her feet.
She dusted down her skirt and turned towards him. “Thank you.”
The stag pokemon smiled warmly. “You are not hurt?”
Harmony ran a paw tenderly over the marks on her neck. “It’s just a scratch. I’m not even sure he was sincere. It was just a threat.”
Xerneas nodded, but the silence left her feeling uncertain. He raised his head to look after Yveltal, then turned his attention back to her.
“Go about your day,” he said. “Do not let him worry you.”
Immediately the sting vanished from her neck, and she traced her claws where the scratches had been. She gave Xerneas a confused look, not quite finding the right words she needed.
“We do not want to alarm anyone,” he said quietly. “Try to put this behind us, and please make sure everyone else is calm?”
“Of course.”
With another warm smile, Xerneas turned and followed the direction in which Yveltal had fled.
Harmony turned towards the crowd, but the gathered pokemon’s expressions were the description of worry. Furnace looked between her and Yveltal, surrounded by Mindstorm and a small number of fairy-types. But what stood out to Harmony was the group that stood away from the rest, their eyes on the sky where Yveltal had vanished. All of them fighting-, dragon- and dark-type.
She felt her heart sink and she lifted her paw to her throat again.
Yveltal’s words had got to them.
...
Yveltal landed ungainly beside the river and tucked in his wings. The right one throbbed where he’d crashed down on it during that fight, crushed beneath that disgusting moonblast. Rage boiled inside him, and he clenched his beak so tightly it hurt. He turned his attention to his sore wing, scanning over his bedraggled feathers. He licked his beak to prepare to preen, but faltered as something salty tingled on his tongue.
Blood.
That was right, he’d bitten Harmony out of blind fury. He’d wanted her to feel pain. Blood was a very rare sight, and pokemon did their utmost not to shed any during fights. It was unnecessary. Brutal. So how much needed to be shed for a pokemon to really feel pain?
He ran his tongue over his fangs and a smile spread across his beak. He’d never tasted it before. He wanted more.
“Excuse me, Yveltal?”
The small voice snapped Yveltal out of his thoughts, and he jerked his head around towards a small ralts shuffling towards him over the bridge. The little fairy clutched an oran berry in both paws and he turned his head back towards the orchard on the other side of the river before addressing Yveltal again.
“Could you please help me?” the ralts asked. “I need to harvest more berries for the abbey, but they’re too high up for my psychic to reach.”
“More… berries…?”
Yveltal’s mind was fogged with the taste of Harmony’s blood still dancing around his tongue. The small ralts stared up at him patiently, still waiting for a reply. A tiny version of Harmony. A teeny little fairy. One who, like her, could still toss a moonblast onto his back and obliterate him. His feathers prickled along his spine, and the corners of his beak creased as he repressed a snarl.
He’d had enough. The world was riddled with these fairies. They were like a disease, infecting everything they touched. They needed purging.
The ralts inclined his head on one side, and Yveltal realised the small fairy had just said something and the dark-type had completely missed it.
“Yveltal?” The ralts tipped his head back enough that Yveltal could make out his large eyes beneath his silly helmet. “Are you okay?”
A low growl had been emanating from the ebony bird’s throat and it cut off abruptly as if someone had just plucked it from him. He let out a confused grunt and tucked in his wings.
“I’m fine.” His voice came out husky and he became suddenly aware of his own heartbeat, galloping like a herd of mudbray. “Sure. I can help, if you’ll help me first.”
His eyes fell on the oran berry, or more-so the tiny body behind it. The ralts looked down at the berry then beamed.
“Sure! You can have it.” The little fairy held the berry up towards Yveltal. “Here. Take it.”
“Oh.” Yveltal let out a low purr. “I shall.”
Yveltal’s head shot down like a dart, and snatched the ralts up in his beak. The fairy-type let out a muffled gasp that was cut short as Yveltal fastened his jaws around his tiny frame. The oran berry dropped to the floor and rolled towards the base of a tree, its blue skin specked with crimson blood.
Yveltal shook his head, ragging the ralts’ limp body. A hot fire spread down his throat and coursed through his bones, tracing channels down the length of his wings. The ralts’ hide stiffened until it was like biting into stone. Yveltal dropped him to the floor, and the dark-type’s eyes widened with surprise. The ralts’ formerly green fur was grey, his expression of surprise and pain permanently etched on his face. Yveltal nudged him with a claw, receiving no response. The tiny creature was rock solid, just like a statue.
“Interesting.” The ebony bird let out a low chuckle and straightened. “So there is a way to be rid of you after all?”
Yveltal’s body was still on fire, pulsing down his wings. He spread one to inspect it, and his eyes widened. Crimson feathers spread in a mottled pattern along it. A few had also appeared on his chest like spots and he tried to wipe them away to no avail. It was as if his discovery had somehow embedded itself into his very being.
His discovery…
A deep laugh rumbled in his chest and he spread his wings to display the crimson markings.
“You see this?!” he asked the motionless ralts. “I’ve learned your little secret! I now know your weakness! The fairy-type isn’t as strong as you think, is it? You can be snuffed out like a candle!” He tucked his wings back in and gave the ralts a wicked smirk. “You can rest knowing you were the first to meet this fate.”
Hot fire boiled in his chest, pulsing through him in an invigorating fury. He wanted more. Was there anything else he could try this new discovery on? He turned his head left and right, but there were no pokemon in sight. No one who had even witnessed his discovery. Just grass, stone paths, the river and trees.
Trees.
They were also alive. Perhaps he could try it out on one of them?
He turned towards the nearest tree, the one the oran berry had rested beneath. Yveltal opened his beak wide to lash at it, but instead a hot beam shot from his jaws and slammed into the tree. It engulfed it with a black and crimson light, draining the colour from its leaves. That familiar, fiery energy flooded him again, but it wasn’t as vibrant as what the ralts had given him. The beam petered out, leaving the tree in the same grey, statue-esque state as the ralts.
Yveltal licked his beak and stood back from it, a smirk spreading across his face. Was that… a new attack? An attack that could drain the very life from a living thing. If this could help him eradicate all fairy-types… he needed to test it out some more. To see what extent he could truly push it to.
“Yveltal!”
He snapped his head around towards the familiar voice. Xerneas stood behind him, standing over the ralts. Small flowers spread out from his hooves, spreading across the grass and surrounding the fallen fairy. The stone melted away as colour gradually returned to the small pokemon’s body, and the wounds knitted back together as if they’d never even been there.
Yet Xerneas’ eyes lacked the warmth Yveltal was familiar with. Xerneas raised his head high and met Yveltal’s blue eyes.
“Stop this,” he said.
The ralts sat back up and rubbed his eyes as if he’d only been sleeping. Yveltal stuttered as he looked between the ralts and Xerneas. It couldn’t be… the pokemon had been… Yveltal had taken his life and now he had it back?!
“Xerneas?” The small pokemon looked up sleepily. “What am I doing here?”
Xerneas nuzzled the ralts’ head then looked back at Yveltal.
Yveltal couldn’t take his eyes off the ralts. The small fairy pushed himself to his feet, no sign of his previous condition left on his body. He didn’t even acknowledge Yveltal, no comment on their encounter. If Xerneas could reverse it like that, then there was no way Yveltal’s new skill would stand a chance in a fair fight. It would be like any other fight, easily overcome by the fairy-type. Unless he could find some way to build on it, to raise it into a force to be reckoned with?
He snapped his beak shut and feigned innocence, shrugging his feathery shoulders. “It wasn’t me. I found him like this.”
“You can’t lie to me, Yveltal,” said Xerneas. “I saw everything. I watched as you claimed that tree.”
Yveltal turned to follow Xerneas’ gaze to the tree and tutted. The grey hue was melting away just like it had on the ralts. Small flowers pooled around the base of it as they flowed from beneath Xerneas’ golden hooves.
“Death has no place here, Yveltal,” said Xerneas. “The abhorrent things you’ve just done are already corrupting you.”
“… Death?”
Xerneas nodded once. “I want you to think very carefully about where your place is, and if you wish to stay here you are to abide by the law.”
Yveltal let out a single laugh and spread his mottled wings. “Very well. I shall think very carefully about what you’ve just told me, Xerneas.” With a beat of his wings he rose into the air. “Very carefully.”
With that, he turned and took off towards the forest.
...
The next morning, the abbey dining hall was bustling with pokemon waiting for their breakfast. Pokemon flooded through the doors and windows, and drifted in along a channel that ended in a pool of crystal clear water at the side of the room. The various pokemon chatted among themselves, before those that were more adapted to land left the pool to gather around the long table.
Harmony bustled back and forth between the kitchen and the dining area, assisting the chefs in laying out the table for that morning’s breakfast. Plates of fresh berries, pancakes, pastries, soups and other delicious items were spread out on silver plates that pokemon eagerly and politely helped themselves too. The abbey was one of several across the land, and all would be pretty busy at this hour. But it was the largest given it was right at the heart of Estellis. Pokemon had yet to fully spread across the entire continent.
Black feathers fluttered by the window, and Harmony looked up with a start as a huge black bird perched in it. A corviknight. He hopped through towards the table and took a seat beside one of Harmony’s close friends - a pidgeot named Windstriker. The gardevoir scolded herself slightly. Her heart had been in her throat since the previous day, and she was eager to see Yveltal again. To make sure he was okay. But part of her was also anxious. He had outright attacked her. Something definitely wasn’t right.
She set the pot of soup she’d been holding on the table. “Has anyone seen Yveltal since yesterday?”
Several of the pokemon shook their heads and murmurs spread around the room.
“I’m a little worried about him,” said Harmony. “He didn’t take that fight well at all.”
“He had a point though.” A garchomp leant his head on one claw while buttering his toast with the other. “Us dragon-types don’t stand a chance against you fairies unless we have poison or steel moves at our disposal.”
A sylveon lifted her head and licked jam off her nose. “Like you with your poison jab?”
The garchomp scoffed and narrowed his eyes at her. “That doesn’t help me against mawile or klefki though, does it? Poison moves are useless against them.”
A dragalge slumped and rested her chin on the edge of the pool. “Story of my life.”
“Not to mention our dragon-type moves can’t even touch you,” said a salamence. “At least dark-types can get a punch in!”
The scrafty beside him fired him a glare. “We have a hard time too, yanno!”
The room exploded into a heated debate, and Harmony’s heart sank. She raised her paws in a bid for silence. “Guys, please! Don’t let him get to you! We have fair fights all the time, and you’re more than equipped to deal with us!”
“Yeah, it’s a matter of skill!” shouted a mawile.
“Oh, so we lack skill now?!” the salamence roared. “Say that with my flamethrower to your face!”
“What’s going on in here?!”
The booming voice dragged the room into silence and all eyes went to the kitchen door. Furnace stood in the doorway, glaring the room down into submission.
“We’re all friends here, right?!” he roared. “Act like it!” He moved behind Harmony and placed a warm paw on her shoulder. “Are you all right? You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “But I think what Yveltal said yesterday has got under their skin. I was dealing with comments like this all night.”
“You don’t need that,” said Furnace.
“Help yourself to breakfast,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, really.”
She trotted back to the kitchen, leaving Furnace standing in the hall.
He exchanged worried glances with the alcremie chef beside him. “How can I not?”
A flurry of charcoal feathers erupted through the window and two murkrow landed on the table amid the plates. One of them eyed the berries, inclining his head from side to side, then let out a muffled caw as he raised his head to peer across the table.
A pidgey beside them looked up with a smile. “Help yourself! They’re for everyone.”
The murkrow scoffed. “I won’t break bread with any fairy-types.”
Tension rippled throughout the room as all eyes went to the newcomers.
The second murkrow spread his wings and strutted across the table. “We’re here with a message from Yveltal. We all heard what he said yesterday. The word has spread. We’ve had enough, and I’m sure all dragon- and dark-types will agree. We get beat down too often by the abundant fairy-type! It seems all pokemon possess one fairy-type skill in their arsenal to defeat us. So Yveltal is calling a new world order!”
Most of the table gasped, masking the sound of food thudding to the floor. A clatter came from the kitchen, and a plate shattered on the tiles. The staff rushed to the door to catch the rest of the murkrow’s speech.
“This is a call to war!” the murkrow cawed. “All who have had enough of their struggles against the fairy-type are to rally around Yveltal in the courtyard before noon!”
“War?!” the mawile gasped.
“A war!” the murkrow repeated. “Against all who support the fairy-type! The fairy-type will be eradicated, bringing fairness and order to Estellis!”
“I’m tired of being beaten down, too!” A hitmonlee leant across the table towards the two birds. “Count me in!”
“Then we expect to see you in the courtyard!” the first told him.
The pair turned and fluttered from the window, leaving the dining hall in a freezing silence.
Harmony stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her paws trembling as she strained to hold a tray heaped with berry pancakes. Furnace opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. Harmony didn’t notice. Her eyes were trained on the window as her heart hammered in her chest.
A war?
Her entire mouth had turned dry.
“What is Yveltal doing?” she whispered.
...
Harmony had to know what was going on. She had to be certain it was nothing more than a misunderstanding. She raced to the courtyard, followed by the abbey staff. But when she reached it, her heart did a flip into her throat. The courtyard was teeming with pokemon, divided into two groups. An uncountable mass gathered at the far end of the cobbled square, glaring at her and the hundreds of pokemon that had gathered around to watch. Those who, like her, desperately hoped this wasn’t real.
Standing amid the leering group towered a pokemon Harmony didn’t recognise at first. But she caught a flash of blue eyes and a fanged beak. The black bird, Yveltal, only he was no longer just black. Crimson feathers mottled over his chest and wings, and a small patch of white feathers formed a diamond by his throat.
He raised his head to address the newcomers. “Is there anyone else? Anyone who wishes to fight against this filthy fairy-type?”
“Me!”
Harmony was shoved aside as the hitmonlee from the dining hall rushed to join the square. More pokemon met the same fate until the crowd was forced to part and let him through.
He stopped in the middle of the courtyard and jammed a thumb into his chest. “Me! I want to help you fight, too! I’m tired of being beaten in a ‘fair fight’ by these fairies.”
“So am I!” A machoke stood forward from the crowd to join the other fighting-type. “Count me in, too!”
A smirk tugged Yveltal’s beak and he waved a wing at his side. “Then join me. Let’s rally together and purge Estellis of this fairy-type!”
“Yveltal, please!” Harmony reached the courtyard and slipped through to stand before the crowd of onlookers. “Why are you doing this? It was just a friendly fight!”
“Friendly?” he scoffed. “There was nothing friendly about it! And it’s not just one fight, Harmony. It’s hundreds upon hundreds of fights, defeated by your wretched attacks! I’ve had enough! And so have many of your so-called friends, pushed away by defeat after defeat.”
“Everyone loses sometimes, Yveltal. You just have to take it, learn from it and-!”
“Oh but I have learned from it,” he crooned. “I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned where my place is in this world, and I won’t stand for it. Do you know how it feels to have a typing that is so glaringly weak to yours, Harmony? To be beaten repeatedly by the most abundant attack type? I’ve often wondered why I myself was created, and I’ve discovered it’s to be nothing more than a punching bag for you fairies! Each and every dragon- and dark- type pokemon is nothing more than someone to be crushed, trampled and blinded by your attacks!”
“You’re wrong!” Harmony cried.
“I’m not wrong,” Yveltal purred. “I’ve witnessed enough to learn this. We’re just test material so you can build on your attacks, and one day even wipe us out for good.”
The pokemon around him rose into their own heated arguments, shouting profanities at those who’d gathered to watch.
Harmony bristled as she glared up at Yveltal’s smirking beak. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was sowing deceit among the gathered pokemon, and they were lapping it up like water.
Harmony clenched her fists. “You’re lying.”
The pokemon behind her murmured in agreement, and a few stronger voices echoed her statement. Cries of ‘liar!’ spread throughout the crowd. They were countered by the mass that had gathered around the large bird, and glares flashed throughout the mob.
Yveltal spread his wings, bringing his rabble to silence. “Let me tell you what I’m doing. I’m going to purge this world of the fairy-type, and create one where we stand a chance once more. I’ve found a way to counter you. A weakness. A means to finally defeat you! I’ll win this war, and anyone else who wishes to join me can do so now. If you don’t, then consider yourself my enemy.”
A ninetales stepped forwards from the crowd, her frosty fur shimmering in the sunlight. “We won’t let you do this, Yveltal! You’re forgetting dragon- and dark- types have more than one weakness than just the fairy-type. We’ll exploit every opening we can find!”
“Yes! We’ll fight back!” said a togekiss.
“You won’t stand a chance!” cried a swellow.
The onlookers raised their cries in agreement.
Yveltal’s smirk turned sinister. “Oh but of course. That’s what a war is! A fight to the death!” He spread his wings again and Harmony realised for the first time just how much larger he appeared. “Allow me to demonstrate what fate will befall all who defy me.”
He opened his beak wide and a crimson beam shot from his throat, striking the ninetales. Her cry froze on her tongue and her entire body lost its shimmery sheen. The attack cut out, and Harmony let out a gasp. The ninetales was as still as a statue, her body turned to stone.
The pokemon rose into a panic, and even a few of Yveltal’s rabble broke loose, rushing back to join those they were only moments ago arguing against. Yveltal unleashed his attack once more, washing over those who were fleeing and freezing them to the spot. His blue eyes flashed with fire as they locked on Harmony, and the crimson beam launched towards her. Claws fastened around her waist, tossing her back into the crowd. A grunt came from above her, and when she opened her eyes she spotted Furnace, his red scales rapidly turning grey. Tears pricked her eyes and she wriggled backwards across the cobbled stones. The beam narrowly skimmed her, and she fixed her eyes on it. It gave off no light. Instead, it radiated darkness.
Pokemon around her were screaming, running blindly, and any hit by that beam were turned to stone. Too many. She had to get away from there and find help.
She tried to push herself up, but the beam skimmed her again and she ducked away from it, landing flat on her back. A lithe shadow bounded over her, and the beam cut out abruptly. Yveltal gagged and recoiled backwards, spluttering and shaking his head. His blue eyes narrowed, fixing Xerneas in a leer.
Tiny flowers flowed like a rainbow from Xerneas’ hooves, reaching out between the cobbled stones and the surrounding grass. They passed beneath the statues, and the stony hide melted away from the affected pokemon, returning them to their former selves.
The stag stared Yveltal down, unwavering. “I see you have chosen your place.”
Yveltal laughed. “I’d already chosen it, Xerneas.” He waved a wing at the remaining pokemon behind him, still alarmingly high in number. “And it seems I am not alone.”
Xerneas looked up at the mob gathered around the red and black bird. Some were uncertain, avoiding his eye.
“It is not too late for you to come back to me,” he told them. “I can assure you that Yveltal has been feeding you lies. Not one of you was created to be a punching bag. But if you wish to stick with Yveltal, then there is no place for you here. Those who remain with him shall be banished, and will meet the same fate Yveltal has doomed himself to.”
Several of Yveltal’s followers exchanged worried glances and parted from the group, shuffling across the courtyard to rejoin Xerneas. Yveltal watched them with scorn then snapped his attention back onto the stag.
“And what fate is that, exactly?” Yveltal scoffed.
“You wish to be a bringer of death,” Xerneas explained. “So you shall ultimately bring that on yourself also, along with all who follow your lies.”
More of Yveltal’s group melted away, scurrying back to Xerneas and their friends. Their families.
Xerneas met Yveltal’s eyes, waiting patiently for any of the bird’s remaining followers to decide where exactly they wanted to stand.
Those that remained stared back with defiance.
Xerneas nodded once. “Very well. It is decided.” He raised his head and met Yveltal’s leering eyes with ones that flashed with fire. “Leave.”
Yveltal’s beak went slack for a moment, then his feathers bristled along his spine. He turned sharply and lead his group away from the courtyard. Those that remained with him were mostly made up of dragon-, dark-, and fighting-types. Those his lies had stirred the most.
Xerneas turned back towards his pokemon, and his antlers radiated light that pulsed out away from him across the courtyard and spread over the surrounding planes and forests.
“Do not worry,” he said. “He cannot come back here.”
“But what about the others?” Harmony asked.
“Those that wish to return will find their way here in time,” Xerneas explained. “Yveltal wishes to start a war. We shall win that war. Come. I shall prepare you for it.” He looked at each of the terrified and trembling pokemon. “All those who wish to fight alongside me shall be prepared, do not worry. You have nothing to fear.”
A few mumbles of private discussion rose from the crowd. Furnace looked up at them then took a step forward, jabbing a thumb-claw into his chest.
“Me,” he said. “I’ll fight.”
A smile spread across Xerneas’ muzzle, and three altairia drifted down above him from the clouds. Their humming melody drifted out over the courtyard.
“I will, too,” said Harmony.
“And me!” said the frosty ninetales. “I’ll fight!”
One after the other, pokemon broke from the crowd, affirming their part in the battle. Soon, the entire crowd was giving their support. The altaria broke into a jovial melody, joined by the other birds as they rose into the air to join them.
Harmony felt a swelling in her chest. Together, alongside Xerneas, they could win this.
Xerneas stood back. “Then allow me to instruct you.”
His antlers flashed and Harmony felt a tug at her wrist. She lifted it and her eyes widened. A golden bangle had appeared, made of three woven strands. Set in a decorative cup was a large, clear stone with a colourful band curling through its core.
She wasn’t alone. Hundreds of pokemon had received a similar gift.
“I have chosen some of you to lead your own troops,” Xerneas explained. “You will be able to evolve further, but it is only temporary. It will give you extra strength and new abilities, and your troops will be relying on your command. I will need each and every one of you to use your unique gifts in the battle to come.”
The crowd exploded into cheers.
“Please train,” Xerneas told them. “This will be a long and gruelling battle. But I assure you. We will win.”
Hey! I've been meaning to check out this rewrite, so I was thrilled to roll it for Catnip. I never finished reading The End back on Serebii, but I think I got something like 25-30 chapters in, was enjoying it a bunch and always wanted to keep going and finish it; the rewrite seems a perfect second chance to follow this story.
Cleo was no stranger to the Winding Woods, but as the sun rapidly disappeared over the horizon, it was beginning to look less and less familiar. Not to mention her night vision wasn’t exactly her strong suit. As night drew closer, dangers increased.
This confused me a little - "I can see daylight" suggests they've been in total darkness and it's just becoming light, but just earlier Cleo was talking about the sun disappearing over the horizon, which suggests they already could see the sun, and that if anything they should be seeing less of it as time goes on.
This only served to make the weavile laugh even harder. The boss pointed a sharp claw vaguely in her direction. His eyes streamed with tears and he had to grip the branch with his other paw before he fell clean from it.
“Please!” he squeaked. “You’re slaying me!”
Not the wisest of words. Cleo took a step back, not from the weavile, but because Spark was beginning to radiate static. Cleo knew what was coming next.
A blinding flash lit up the trees, wiping the smirks clean off the weavile troop’s faces. One by one, the weasel pokemon flopped from the canopy to land in a sprawl in the undergrowth. Their bodies sparked and jerked as electricity danced across their limbs.
This scene here strikes me as a bit cartoony, but especially this bit - eyes literally streaming with tears laughing at a threat from a small Pokémon, in a world where Pokémon's power isn't exactly determined by size to begin with, just seems like a bit much and not entirely realistic. It's kind of clichéd too - this exact setup, with villainous bullies gearing up to pick on somebody small and unimposing, who makes a bold threat that the bullies have this exact sort of exaggerated disbelief reaction to only to proceed to be thoroughly trounced, feels extremely familiar, like I've seen it dozens of times.
Thus, overall, I think the impression this scene gives is of a lighthearted, tropey low-stakes adventure story where the protagonist and her always-hungry comic relief sidekick make short work of disposable villains that aren't to be taken very seriously - kind of the tone of a Saturday morning cartoon. And there's nothing wrong with that in itself - but I don't think it's a very accurate impression of this story! Right here in this very chapter we're about to start talking about war and genocide and child soldiers; the stakes are very high, these characters are genuinely worried about death, and Hydreigon's forces are a huge and serious threat. But this scene doesn't really make it sound that way.
Merely being different in tone from the rest of the story is one thing - but here in particular I think this opening really sells the story short. In particular, it makes the characters sound kind of one-note (half of Spark's lines are about food, which is basically a stock character trait) - but actually I think characterization is a highlight of your work and that even in the rest of this chapter you've got a lot of great nuance! So I think it has the potential to turn away readers who would dig what the story actually is but might be put off by the breezy tropeyness of the opening, which would be a real shame.
Spark quirked an eyebrow at her. “This coming from the meowstic who just laid waste to an army of jangmo-o?”
Cleo shrugged her shoulders. “They had it coming.”
After reading the rest of the chapter, it seems slightly jarring Cleo would describe it this way, given later she emphasizes to Tinker that they were children.
“So did these,” said Spark. “Funny though. Hydreigon’s goons can be mouthy, but they usually just attack us. These guys were all bark and no bite.”
This strikes me as a little 'As you know, Bob' - surely Cleo already knows how Hydreigon's goons usually behave, so it's a little strange for Spark to mention it.
It was likely there was no further threat, given no one came to the weaviles’ aide, but one didn’t take risks when the sun was setting.
Likewise, here I think you want "fluorescent" - it's derived from fluor, as in fluoride, rather than flora.
Despite my issues with the opening, Cleo and Spark nonetheless already have a pretty strong sense of character and dynamic as they loot the Weavile, which is great and makes it fun to read about them.
Cleo lifted her head as a meinfoo rushed towards her.
Another mildly awkward as-you-know thing - presumably Tinker already knows Windflower is a small town, so why would she mention it? It'd be more natural if she just said "The town..."
“A couple were apprehended there,” she explained. “But their Guild is small, you know that. Most of those dragons got away. Although not unscathed.”
“You let them get away?!”
“I was busy helping someone who got hit by a dragon rage,” Cleo explained. “They had no available medic, and they needed help!”
Tinker leant on his paw and tapped his claws on the table top. “The fact those dragons got away unsettles me, Cleo.”
The repetition of terms in "Most of those dragons got away." "You let them get away?!" "The fact those dragons got away unsettles me" strikes me as a little awkward - perhaps rephrase?
I like this conversation a lot otherwise, though - Tinker insisting Cleo should have killed these actual children, Cleo clearly uncomfortable with that but still justifying it first by saying she was busy, presumably knowing that them being children isn't actually going to work on Tinker. Presents us with the grim, chilling reality of the world while strongly characterizing both of them and establishing a clear source of conflict and friction between two characters on the same side! Good stuff. I also like a lot how it gets into the general messy ugliness of the war, something I remember liking a lot when I first read the original version but that I think came out more later there. Definitely a cool choice to bring it out in chapter one here, establishing better the complexities and nuance within the story.
“Ransom indeed.” Tinker lowered his paw to look at her. “I hardly think Hydreigon will care. If he demands that village wiped out, then it will be wiped out. Just like your home.”
A chill ran down Cleo’s spine and her fur stood on end along it, but she just stared back at the riolu silently. His right eye stared past her, and enough vehemence flared in her to probe him as to how he lost it in the first place. But she swiftly swallowed it down, and the look of surprise and regret that washed over his face made it a lot easier to do so.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “That was unprofessional of me.”
Also, this is one of my favorite bits. Tinker jabs at her backstory as a point in the argument they were having; Cleo has a strong reaction that tells us this is a source of major trauma, but she doesn't start reminiscing about her backstory or explaining it to us as many lesser stories would do, but just sits there with the blood running cold in her veins and has this flash of longing to hurt him back in the same way by jabbing at his backstory - yet doesn't. Deliciously intriguing, hinting at significant backstory for both of them, while being genuine and human and strengthening their characterization. Cleo doesn't want to reminisce about her trauma, just like most people usually don't; when someone hurts her she wants to fire back, like people do; even so she doesn't do it, because that's not her character, and we don't need to know yet what happened to Tinker's eye.
(I did get slightly confused by the "His right eye stared past her" sentence, in that it appears to be saying he has a right eye only to then talk about him losing it; after stopping a moment I figured out that presumably you mean either that he lost the left eye or that the right eye is a glass eye, hence the staring past her, but it wasn't entirely obvious from the text that that's what you were getting at and I'm still not sure which it is.)
She only knew of one pokemon in Hydreigon’s army who used poisons
Also nicely intriguing - I already know who this is referring to but hinting at a specific character on the other side here that Cleo already knows adds interest.
She slipped from the room and yanked the door closed. But it didn’t slam. Instead it jammed over a mound of crumpled paper.
Love this closing line for the scene, calling back to the earlier bit about the mess in the room while also providing this nice characterization detail of Cleo wanting to slam the door. The sense of tension between the two of them is great. I eat up this sort of thing.
Just three of them alone wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Guild and all its forces. They must have known that. So it was either a sneak attack, or they were waiting for reinforcements. Or this town wasn’t their target at all?
No, it couldn’t be the latter. Pokemon were terrorized everywhere, the Outcasts just fought back to try and remain safe for as long as they could.
But if the little town was being targeted, it may very soon become nothing more than a red cross on her map.
I'm a little confused by this - why does Pokémon being terrorized everywhere mean that they must have been targeting this particular town? Doesn't seem to follow. Does she just mean she hopes it's not the latter? If so I think using "it couldn't be the latter" is probably not the ideal way to phrase that.
The Harbinger scene came as kind of a surprise - it has been a while so maybe I've just forgotten things, but at least from my memory of reading the first 25-30-ish chapters of the original (and the contest backstory one-shot I judged), I had a mostly sympathetic impression of him. Here, I feel he comes across more as a villain with a Freudian excuse sort of deal - the implication seems to be that he's about to poison the river as vengeance for these people's prejudice against Absol. That seems very unsympathetic to me, especially since Harbinger didn't try all that hard to warn them - it feels kind of like he came there in the first place more to get an excuse to hurt these people than to actually warn them off.
Of course, there are several possible reasons you might have written it this way. Maybe Harbinger always did this; perhaps I just didn't get far enough in the original to see it revealed there (fair enough!), or I did read it but just completely forgot about it (whoops, disregard all this). More interestingly, it's quite possible (and I'm currently leaning towards this) that the point of this scene is to suggest Harbinger is poisoning the villagers, to make the reader think he's a villain, before revealing later that he isn't and that wasn't what was going on here at all! Which is entirely legit if that's the idea - but then I am a bit curious what he could possibly actually mean by the multiple separate bits of narration here where he ominously thinks about how he's going to personally make sure they suffer a disaster. That doesn't seem very ambiguous! In general, if that's what you were going for here, that's valid but I'm not (at least at this point) 100% sold on it being the best way to introduce Harbinger into the story - if I hadn't read anything about Harbinger before, I think my impression of his character here would just be that he's a two-dimensional villain who uses discrimination against Absol as kind of a thin excuse for his villainy, while when I read the original I think I remember finding him interesting from the get-go.
Really enjoyed reading this again - it's definitely reminding me why I liked this story. Hopefully I can come back to it for more chapters later during Review Blitz!
Been a while since I read any of your stuff. I remember liking what I read before of your Sonic fic, so let’s see how I feel about your pokemon works. This review will cover the first two chapters.
Chapter 1
So one thing that I really liked about the opening of this chapter is that it’s not your typical “let’s join a guild and go on adventures!” type opening. The character’s are already an established team. And in fact, they’re coming back from the end of a journey. It’s a setup that I don’t see very often in PMD works, and I for one appreciate the change of pace.
On a related note, you get into the plot pretty fast, already covered within the first chapter. Which I really appreciate. I know this is a fairly long fic, and the fact that you balance interaction and plot progression well makes it feel polished.
The way Spark’s height is established really amused me. There’s a level of humor here that I like, because it provides levity in what otherwise feels like is a fairly dark situation.
I’ll admit I kind of found it weird that a riolu was leading the guild. A riolu doesn’t exactly give the appearance of “experienced leader.” Then again, perhaps that was intentional.
This whole chapter in general gave me this feeling that this isn’t the start of a story, but an end. This is the tail-end of a war, in what almost feels like a darkest hour for the good guys. They’ve been scattered and many settlements destroyed, and only a small force remains to oppose the big bad. And I can’t help but wonder if that’s what the fic’s title means, or if there’s some other meaning to it. Or if it’s a combination of both.
One thing I want to mention that I am worried about is that this fic is going to have a very black and white “all dark/dragon types are evil and all other types are generally good.” I know some defectors are mentioned, but as someone who’s seen one too many scenarios where the dark/ghost/other scare pokemon ends up being the evil one, possibly the only evil one, it’s a stereotype I get sick of. If it does end up being a fic that has all evil dark/dragon types, that’s fine. It just means it’s not the story for me.
Chapter 2
I liked the whole marketplace scene. I don’t have a lot of details I want to bring up about it, but it was fun. It was a nice little bit of worldbuilding, as well as character building since you bring up the fact that Cleo doesn’t use many items. I also like the inclusion of mainline stuff like gems, as they’re things that seem reasonable enough to exist in a PMD universe.
Moving on… Something is very up with Mischief. I don’t think The Clean Place is going to be a long-term issue that spans the whole story, but do expect it is going to be very relevant to the first arc. And I’m almost certain it won’t be anything good. The little bit of info we get from Mischief makes me think it’s some sort of lab or training facility. I suppose we’ll see what happens when I read more.
I think that’s everything I wanted to cover for these first two chapters, though, so I’ll pick up here next time. Until then, take care!
This chapter was very exciting to read through and though it wasn't too much, we got a lot of new information that puts a lot of things into context within the story.
First off, there's not much to say about the Enigma segment though I'd say it was cool we got to see his perspective on the previous events. It's amusing that he's aware that Harlequin was jailed along with the Outcasts and I wonder if he'd really kill the former just for that the next time they meet. All in all, it's clear that he's really having fun with the current state of affairs and it remains to be seen how his arc ties into the others.
The second and longer half of the chapter is certainly the meat of this chapter by far and we got to find out quite a few new revelations and also elaborations on things previously hinted at.
It was a bit funny how Harlequin was completely helpless during the chase scene, though it's their fault for being loud and alerting the Murkrow flock in the first place. Instant karma right there. I am also a bit confused why the Murkrow suddenly gave up chase when they crept into the gap in that stone wall, though it could just be that the murkrow themselves didn't notice the gap or it's tied to the same reason why the ruins they found wasn't attacked or destroyed. If Hydriegon had ever found that place during his multi century rule, there's no reason to believe that he wouldn't absolutely wipe all trace of a location that leaves behind damning evidence of how his personal god had been defeated in the past and could still be defeated even if he somehow finds the Cocoon.
I liked that the story takes a moment to touch on the fact that double standards very much exist among all the different factions. Hydriegon believes in dark, dragon superiority, but would cast aside others of the same type who think differently. Outcasts believe anyone against Hydriegon's army has a place among them, but they turn away from dark or dragon types unaffiliated with Hydriegon's faction and are just as lost and struggling to survive as they are. Similar prejudices obviously exist among the Heretics as well. I liked that Cleo and the others acknowledged their own prejudices themselves and It makes me curious to see how this affects their worldview going forward.
The lore exposition with the tapestries was really well done and it almost makes me wish this was a comic or something because it's easily a segment that you could play around with visual imagery to portray really well. I would say it is pretty convenient that Cleo's not only found the ruins, but that all this information about the ancient past and a potential method to take down Hydriegon were all kept in one location. To call their find a gold mine would be an understatement and Tinker had better give Cleo a raise and a promotion after this.
However, though this was a great find, it still doesn't really change their situation all that much. Even if they have the knowledge on how to push back Hydriegon's influence on the world, they still lack the actual weapon, Mega evolution, to stop him. I figure the rest of the story may either be a mcguffin quest to find Mega stones or they could go about rounding up other fairy types to stage a rebellion of sorts. Speaking of which, that swablu is definitely going to become important later, aren't they?
Overall things are definitely picking up steam in this story, and I'm excited to see how these revelations affect the plot moving forward.
Hello! I reviewed this fic before for catnip, twice actually, haha, what are the odds? Oh well, since the blitz is happening I decided to review another chapter of this fic, maybe even catch up with it? Oh well, here I go!
An impulse. She gave a huge, loud yawn and continued tucking away her tent. It was nothing more than a blue sheet coated with combee wax for weatherproofing, but, with the help of a low tree branch to toss it over, it did the job.
I liked this moment. Worldbuilding, right? It was nice of you to add it!
This was a fun chapter to read. A Noivern. Hm, I barely remember Kalos’ dex, but yeah, Noivern is a cool Mon to use. Basically it’s Batman, haha. Anyway, enough with my ramblings.
A nice chapter, I think the pacing was fine and that you did good with it, so yeah, keep it up! I think the characters were fine during this chapter, I can tell a lot about them from your descriptions, and I think you’re making them feel distinct, aside from the accent, it’s good that the characters have such strong personalities, especially the main duo, as they’re the protagonists.
As far as the setting, it was good. Moving to a new town, huh? Road trips are a theme I love a lot, and because of that this chapter hit the nail for me. Very intense, fun, and just nice to read! I think you’re definitely on the right road here, so don’t give up! Keep your story up, I’m sure you’ll find amazing readers, your world is interesting for me, at least. So this was a fun review to write. I do think I wanna know more about your main cast, but since this is the third chapter, I guess I'll have to wait until I read more chapters for my full opinion on them to be created.
Well, this was it! Hopefully you enjoyed this review! Until next time!
Starlight has fallen behind ^_^; It's been a month but I'm back! Granted, that month was NaNo, so I'd like to think I have adequate reason for falling behind ^_^; Really looking forward to taking a break and settling down to read some of this! :D
Just a quick note back on chapter 19: Enigma's thoughts about Rio coupled with what we know about him from Harbinger reading his binder make me think that he's really just an insane, psychopathic Meowstic o_o I'm getting some Josef Mengele vibes from him.
Chapter 20
For some reason, I was thinking Echo had already evolved and was a Noivern, so it took me a minute to realize that, no--you had never said he was a Noivern. I was just thinking of Boomer XD
He tore free and opened his mouth wide, letting out a terrible screech. It amplified in his large ears, blowing the slaking away from him. The rest of the swarm swooped in, tearing at the Heretic while his guard was down. The sloth pokemon’s cries soon ceased, and he fell into a motionless heap, his lips pulled back in an eternal sneer.
A long tail swept through the dust behind him and he craned his neck back to examine it. His lips curled up in a smirk and he stood up taller. So he’d finally evolved?
So did Echo attack Rumble out of jealousy/fear? He said there could only be one Noivern--if there was more than one, would he see it as a challenge, a threat to his authority/superiority, or that he wasn't the best?
Ah, I love difficult questions about making choices like this!
Keeping her ears open, Cleo pressed on through the grass, her feet snagging over an unseen wiry plant that seemed insistent on weaving its way through the grass.
I think you could do without "the grass" at the end of the sentence; you already mention grass in the first half, and having it mentioned twice makes it feel a bit repetitive.
“They made the world feel a little less dark for a while.”
This is definitely something I feel with religion, Christianity in particular.
When Cleo had fled her home, all she’d had was Spark. No memento of her family. Just memories of them. Some fond, some terrifying as they dropped her from a burning window to flee. Memories of howling flames burning up her home.
Harlequin’s eyes immediately snapped to it, flashing blue flames. The zorua lunged towards Cleo, fastening their jaws around the gold ring that held the orb in place. Cleo let the string slide through her claws to hang limply from Harlequin’s jaws.
Nothing that cast a shadow was safe. The trees, buildings… Cleo’s eye wandered down to her own shadow, stretching back towards the abbey. Her entire mouth turned dry.
Huh, considering how Harlequin regarded Enigma's presence earlier in the fic, I would never have thought of them as friends, and I'm surprised that Harlequin claims so--unless it's an attempt to save her own skin.
Oh dang, reading what Enigma does to Cleo sounds like PAIN.
Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no
I have a feeling Enigma is about to face an unpleasant experience.
And it ends on a delightful clinffhanger. Looks like we'll be seeing morre of Harbinger in the near future, and perhaps his interaction with the Outcasts!
Chapter 21
Enigma clutched a paw to his chest as he desperately tried to calm his frantic breathing, and began scanning the area for everything he needed.
This brings some questions about the anatomy of Ghost-types to mind. Do they have a heart and lungs like humans do? Or is their strength and energy level dictated by something else?
“Huh. Fair point. Okay then.” She scurried behind the bag and gave it a hefty shove towards the zorua. “Go on then. But I’m watchin’ you.”
Feels like a pretty bold statement, considering what he saw Mischief just do. Perhaps in his typical state, Mischief doesn't seem like a threat, but overall he is DEFINITELY a threat, I'd say.
Wait, what? Harbinger scoffed at his own thoughts. He was feeling pity for another pokemon? He was going soft.
I didn't realize until now that Harbinger doesn't pity other Pokemon. Certainly a side of him that we haven't seen before!
The fluffy pokemon stared down at his paws as if they’d done him a great injustice. A look of terror was plastered across his face, and he let his paws fall to glance back towards the long grass.
“It’s been my goal for years, but he always slips through my claws. Now he’s away from Enigma it should be a lot easier. I’m going to make that zorua regret what he did to me. And I am going to enjoy every minute of it.”
I think Spark actually has the right idea here--at least one of them will go and look for Mischief and if Enigma does try to attack, then one of them will make it out alive.
When she did, Harlequin looked back over their shoulder with an icy glare, the fierceness washed out by genuine worry.
The wording of this sentence confused me; was Harlequin fierce or worried? The sentence structure makes me think worried, but the "icy glare" denotes fierceness.
She gave the tree a wary glance and lead Harlequin away from it, back the way they’d come.
...
Enigma watched Harlequin and the meowstic move away from him, back the way they’d come.
I think the repetition at the end of these two sentences might have been intentional, but it reads a bit wordy. I think trimming down the second "back the way they come" would work just fine.
He’d never thought that day would come… But it was every assassins’ duty to kill a traitor. If that was the case, then he’d have no choice but to kill Harlequin.
There are so many interesting turns the story can take from here. Where will Cleo and Harlequin go? Will Spark catch up with Mischief? Will Harbinger allow Mischief to continue on with him? Will Enigma succeed in assassinating Harlequin? Will Mischief succumb to the madness of Pokerus and lose himself along the way? I guess we'll find out!
