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Chapter Text

“We are here to welcome the new champion of Sinnoh.” The female reporter’s smile was immaculate, without a hint of true emotions in those beady black eyes. “Barry, you’ve just become the region's top trainer at the mere astounding age of sixteen, a prodigy to many. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s the greatest feeling in the world.” Barry’s smile, however, was frail. “I’ve been trying for years, and to finally achieve what’s been my lifelong dream is indescribable.”

“And we’re all here to congratulate you. Before you leave with Mr. Lucian for your Hall of Fame induction, is there anyone you’d like to give a shout out to?”

He took the microphone handed to him with a trembling grip.

"Absolutely! My parents have to be first, for always being there. So much I wouldn’t know without mom’s support and dad’s experience. Finally I can say I’ve made them proud.” He wiped away a genuine tear, and a few insincere ones. “And lastly, Professor Rowan, who I’ve not seen in a few years. Despite all that has happened, I’d never forget you were the first to give me a chance. I’ll always remember you for that.”

Presently, Barry scuttled off to bask in his accomplishment and have it written in the record books. The report came into focus once more.

“Those were the words of the newest Sinnoh League Champion. There hasn’t been a new one since Mr. Lucian took over from Ms. Cynthia’s stepping down three years ago, and today the crown passes once more.”

The television shut off.

The sound of pouring coffee filled the silence, piping, sizzling. Two women sat across the living room table, each with a modest mug in front of them. One leant back, a rich smile on her face and a freshly faded stain on her apron. The other slowly fingered the drink’s handle, expression dark as her coat.

“He’s grown so much,” said the older woman in the apron. “I remember when he was just a baby. It’s hard to believe it’s been more than a decade since that little boy came over to this house for the first time.”

“He’s made good progress,” said the other.

She caught her blonde tresses before they spilled onto the coffee. Presently, she drank it with a speed to match her rumination.

“You don’t sound impressed, Cynthia. He’s the first new Champion in three years! Your standards are just too high.”

Cynthia set her mug back down, eyes tracing over the editor’s notes on her manuscript.

“Perhaps,” she commented.

Johanna took a small sip of coffee to match. Her friend has a tendency to enshroud those already terse words, but that suited her fine. Their paths first crossed four years ago, but little positive feelings came of that interaction. They met again in Hearthome a few months back, and Cynthia has been showing up to her house for morning coffee ever weekend.

As the stillness threatened to settle back in, Johanna’s gaze wandered towards the stairway. She sighed.

“Dawn has been out for days. I don’t know when that girl’s coming back.”

Cynthia didn’t look up.

“Have you tried calling her?”

“She never answers, and just texts back telling me not to worry. I don’t know what to do with her anymore.”

Cynthia grabbed for the mug again, but it was empty.

“Maybe she just needs some space.”

“She could at least tell me what’s on her mind, so I don’t have to worry so much, but she just leaves for days on end and come back all moody.” A pause. “Maybe you can talk to her. You’re much more her age group then I am.”

“I’m a decade her senior,” Cynthia protested.

“So am I to you, but we get along fine.”

Johanna displayed a coy smile of not-so-subtle expectation. Cynthia could not argue with her logic.

“Do you know where she is?”

“Floaroma is my best guess. My husband and I used to take her there when she was younger. Ever since his passing, she spends a lot of time there.”

Said meadow flourished in this time of year, enveloping all in its fragrant folds. Flowers bloomed atop intertwined branches, weaved in and out of view in a whirlpool of colours. A lazy stream ran beneath the wooden walkway, gently caressing the grassy banks and its smoothed stones, northbound. The most prominent speciman this fall was the exuberant fuchsias, whose shade tinted the ground in a deep magenta beneath the penetrating sunlight.

Beneath this serene landscape, leaning on the wooden fence, peering over the vibrancy of it all, was a girl.

A sad girl.

Her hair was slate blue, long enough to touch the small of her back. The fur on her jacket fluttered in the autumn breeze. Nothing could balance the natural beauty before her quite like the melancholy in her heart.

“The leaves will be falling soon.”

The girl twitched as she heard the silky voice. She turned to see Cynthia approaching from the opposite end of the walkway, whose eyes followed the stream’s meandering flow.

“What do you want?” Her voice, like her words, was venom.

“Your mother wanted me to talk to you.”

Cynthia didn’t meet the girl’s doubtful gaze, and opted to keep her distance to cordial.

“She needs to leave me alone. That goes double for you.”

Cynthia shook her head. This wasn’t going any better than she had foreseen, yet she is honour-bound to try.

“She’s just worried about you, Dawn. I’m sure you understand that.”

The girl could not seem less interested.

“I don’t answer her calls for a reason. I’m sixteen. I know what I’m doing.”

“What you’ve been doing is avoiding me.”

Cynthia’s statement was firm, and it got the reaction she expected. Dawn was red in the face, flustered and offended.

“So what if I am? Just because my mother and you start becoming best friends doesn’t mean I have to deal with you. I don’t want to see you, haven’t I made that clear years ago?” she lashed out.

Cynthia didn’t answer, but her lips stiffened. No one could tell what her right eye looked like behind those golden bangs, but she closed her left one. The mood deteriorated, as the woman’s sullen expression matched up poorly against Dawn’s unwavering defiance and bluntness.

“Pipiri.”

The purring of Dawn’s togekiss drew their attention. The fluffy flying pokemon returned to its owner after a stretching of its wings around the forest. It spotted Cynthia, its original trainer, almost immediately, and flew into the woman’s nostalgic embrace. Cynthia caressed its round head, which brought some life back to her complexion. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the girl.

“Dawn.” A pause as the togekiss lightly flapped its wings. “This can’t go on forever.”

“Why can’t it?” The girl’s voice was cracking. “What I think certainly doesn’t matter to anyone.”

“That’s not true.” Cynthia knew her objection was weak.

“Don’t you lie to me.” Dawn was enraged, and she had little reason to hide it. “Did you watch that Hall of Fame broadcast this morning?”

“I did.”

“Barry is the Champion now. It’s the thing he has wanted most in his life. He used to tell me, his best and only friend of seven years, that I was the one who pushed him the furthest and taught him to never give up. Now that he has the cup in his head, not a single word about me.”

Cynthia had no rebuttal.

“Yet he had the gall to bring up Rowan. Two and a half years of my life I wasted on finishing his stupid pokedex. I even relinquished my own Champion title for it, and what did I get in return? The man didn’t even bother to show up to say thanks. Yet when I turned on the television, I see his damned face on the news accepting awards for the work he didn’t even care enough to credit me with.

It was all true, Cynthia knew. Seeing no reply, the girl continued.

“I could have stomached all of that, but for you…”

An accusatory finger caused Cynthia to avert her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the woman replied. It was all she could.

“It’s far too late for that.”

Cynthia stood and watched as the girl stormed past, incensed steps headed for the exit. The togekiss wriggled out of her embrace to fly after its trainer, leaving the woman alone. Everywhere she looked, there were only flowers.

She wished the flowers would dry her tears.

Chapter Text

“Dawn!” Johanna’s voice echoed throughout the house.

The girl groaned.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you have to eat.”

Dawn wanted to scream back that she wasn’t hungry, that her mother should just leave her alone, but that was far from the truth. She had no idea how long she had been wallowing in bed, or even what day it was. She only knew her stomach rumbled.

As she dragged herself downstairs, Dawn greeted her mother with a glowering expression, before settling at the dinner table without so much as a word. Johanna elected a to keep the silence temporarily, and served up the food. She watched her daughter trudged through it with growing concerns. She waited for Dawn to finish her food, before speaking up.

“Honey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” was the both predictable and disappointing answer.

“You can’t expect me to believe that.” She fixed her daughter’s unkempt hair. “Ever since your return two days ago, you’ve locked yourself in your room without so much as a peep.”

“I don’t really mean to worry you, mom.” Dawn condeded. “I’m just going through a lot.”

“Can’t you just tell me why?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Johanna sighed. Presently, she produced an envelope.

“This is for you, honey.”

“What’s this?” The girl couldn’t see any information on it, but she could tell there was a letter inside. “Who’s this from?”

“You’ll have to figure it out.” The woman placed her hands on her daughter’s. “Just know that I’m always here for you, ok?”

“Ok mom.” Dawn presented the most assuring smile she could muster. “Thank you.”

She disappeared off into her room once more. Tearing up the envelope with haste, she placed the letter beneath a modest desk lamp.

“Dawn,”

She knew who it was immediately.

“I gave this letter to your mother because you’d never agree to listen to these words were they to come from me.

Seeing you like this gives me no pleasure. You say people have wronged you all your life. That isn’t wrong, but I cannot allow it to lead you down this self-destructive path. I may sound dramatic, but Johanna confirmed that you’ve been like this for years now. If that’s partly my doing, then I have to fix it.

I promise I’ll remove myself from your life. You’ll never have to see my face again. In exchange, I’ve attached a formal invitation to the Sinnoh Pokemon League at the end of this letter. I want you to participate. I hope that this will give you something to look forward to again.

The league returns in three months. I will return. Find me, and tell me how you feel then. I’ll respect whatever decision you come to.

Yours,

Cynthia.”

Dawn read the letter, then put aside the attachment at the bottom. She then read the letter again, before crumpling it up and throwing it into the trash. Within the hour, the bin lay kicked over with its previous contents scattered about. The letter was once again in the girl’s hands as she wept.

For the first time in months, Dawn was out of bed as the sun made its round.

Johanna couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw her daughter walking down the stairs. The girl’s puffy eyes concerned her somewhat, but this was progress nevertheless.

“Honey?” A cautious question.

“I’m hungry, mom. Can I have some breakfast?”

“Of course, dear.”

Johanna had her toast and eggs ready with speed, which her daughter consumed with some vigour. Dawn simply stared at the ceiling as her mother cleared away the dishes.

“Mom.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I want to be a trainer again.”

Her mother had no visible reaction.

“What brought this on, dear?”

“I think I need to be doing something again.”

Her mother didn’t reply, but finish washing up. Presently, she sat in front of her daughter, fingers intertwined in front. She thought of what she was going to say.

“Honey,” she began, “when you first left my care five years ago to go on your first adventure, I was very excited. I have to tell you that I regret that decision deeply.”

Dawn was taken aback. She fumbled for a moment.

“You did?”

“I never realised just how much your leaving would affect me, until it was a week in and this house became so empty. I came to Hearthome just to see you again.”

Dawn acknowledged that the meeting with her mother did feel a bit too convenient at the time.

“What about afterwards?”

“I got over it eventually. I just needed to make friends with more people my age, and travel around a little. I was alright, but that’s not what worries me.” Johanna grasped her daughter’s hands. “You left for three years. Your visits became less and less frequent. Then one day, out of the blue, you turn up, asking to return permanently. I could see the sadness in your eyes, dear. You have hardly recovered.”

Dawn recalled that being the day after seeing Professor Rowan’s interview. A lot happened within those twenty-four hours, but she eventually crawled back home because she felt there was nowhere else to go. Thinking back, that feeling of devastation made her shudder.

“I know, mom.”

“But you’re set on going anyway, aren’t you?” Johanna asked. She received a shy nod, as expected. “I shouldn’t have thought this was my decision in the first place.”

“I just don’t want to worry you, mom.”

Having said that, Dawn was unsure of her position. Never in all these years had her mom been anything but supportive.

Or did she never notice.

Johanna pulled her daughter in for a hug, who returned the gesture in kind.

“I’ve always known that you’ll leave again eventually; I just didn’t think it’d be this soon. I can’t stop you, honey. Just be careful out there.”

Dawn kicked the dirt off her shoes as she walked the steps of a trainer again. She picked Sandgem Town to be her first destination, partly for its nostalgic value and partly because she desperately needed another pokemon. Togekiss was the only one in her current possession, but she had an entire team to reassemble.

It was a short enough walk, but she could feel her waning physique catching up with her. Taking public transportations everywhere had hampered her ability to walk long distances. Her endurance would return eventually, but at that moment she had doubts.

The first building she encountered walking into town was also where she needed to go. It was a familiar establishment with a sentimental tinge. Metal doors, closed blinds, white walls, and the blue roof painted a picturesque demonstration of a truly tasteless designer. The colour scheme didn’t always appear so horrid and tacky, but with the change in ownership it was inevitable.

She rang the doorbell.

“Who is it?” A very prompt reply from inside.

Sounds of footsteps echoed closer. It was just like him to wallow in complete darkness at this time of day, she thought. The door creaked open.

“Hello, Lucas,” said Dawn.

The boy stood speechless for a moment. Presently, he awkwardly fixed his pajamas and grabbed the red beret from the coat hanger by pure instinct.

“This is unexpected,” he said, “what brings you by?”

“I’m here for my pokemon.”

“What?” Momentarily, it hit him. “Oh yes, of course. Come in.”

The inside of the laboratory was different from what Dawn remembered. The intellectual air of rows after rows of bookshelves and research paper were gone, replaced by tightly-packed machinery and tubes which she could not identify. In the far corner sat an unassuming bed, its sheets half-spilled over the edge.

In the meanwhile, Lucas managed to scour up the object in question from the back of an old basket. Dawn almost felt offended.

“Here you go.” He gave the pokeball a check and saw no blemishes. That was good enough. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.”

Dawn received the device. It was different from most of what trainers would oft come across. The vibrant azure colouring of its bottom coupled with the orange top was the custom mark of a great craftsmanship of a foreign master, who told her it would allow the pokemon to sleep indefinitely inside. She pressed the foremost button, and a bright light flashed to release its tenant.

Her empoleon chirped in surprise the moment its feet touched the ground. Presently, it recognised its owner and shuffled towards her. Dawn smiled and, with great care, manoeuvred around the bird’s sharp wing before drawing it into a hug. Two years it had been, and she was glad to find that the special pokeball did as it was advertised.

“Thanks for taking care of Empy,” she said.

“Of course, no problem.” Lucas appeared zoned out for a second. “Is he coming back for good?”

“I think so.” Dawn hoped she had as much confidence as she sounded.

“What makes you decide to take him back?”

“I’m thinking of returning to the League.”

The wide-eyed look of disbelief on Lucas’ face said it all. He fumbled for words to say momentarily.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No. Not at all, actually.”

Chapter Text

Dawn sipped from her soda can, ignoring the mild freeze burn searing her palm. Her left elbow leant onto the office chair’s armres, the other hanged loosely off the back.

“Has it just been you all this time?” she asked, eyes narrowing as the overwhelming taste of sugar settled on her tongue.

Lucas kept adjusting the microscope.

“Pretty much. There’s a visitor maybe once every few months at best, since there’s no one here but me.”

Dawn glanced about for further clues, but eventually deemed a direct question necessary.

“Have you not seen Professor Rowan?”

Lucas paused to turned his head.

“Have you not heard?” he asked probingly.

“Heard what?” Dawn tilted her head.

“He’s not a professor anymore, for more than a year now.” Lucas scratched the back of his head awkwardly, realising the sincerity of her question. “They revoked his degree.”

Dawn stared wide-eyed, conflicting thoughts racing through her mind. The last memories she had of Rowan was his speech on TV talking about the Complete Works on Zoology of Sinnoh. It was going to propel him onto the top of the scientific community. She heard how he said it was his life’s work, and how he was hoping this was the next step to uncovering the secrets of the ancients. There were a lot of ambitions in those words, she recalled.

“What happened?”

“Apparently the process of peer review went quite poorly, courtesy by another regional professor. Someone from Kalos is all I remember. There were accusations of plagiarism, I was told, and substantial ones too. He was disgraced, and just left this laboratory the very next day. It was on TV too, I’m surprised you didn’t see it.”

Dawn thought about what she was doing at the time, but threats of sullen memories prevented her from digging further. Shaking it off, she decided to just continue the line of questioning.

“Where is he now?”

“No one has seen him, as far as I know.” Lucas scratched his head. “Technically this place is still in his name, but I’ve been assigned custodian. Most of the staff didn’t stay, since they weren’t going to get their salary, but the bills for the lab are still paid, so I assume he’s still out there.”

Dawn couldn’t make sense of what she was feeling. It wasn’t guilt, for she was the one who was wronged. It wasn’t sympathy, for she understood that he deserved it. However, Rowan being a professor is something imprinted into her upbringing. Even after all the wrong he’s done her, she couldn’t find satisfaction, only conflict. Presently, she decided to let her feelings settle on their own in due time.

“What about you, Lucas?” she asked. “You seem busy.”

“I’ve recently begun to work on my own doctorate.” He has resumed his activities by this point. “It’ll take a few years, but if anything, our brief mutual travels have taught me that my place is here in the lab.”

“You weren’t a bad trainer when you tried.”

Lucas glanced at her, an odd smile on his lips.

“That’s not my dream, Dawn. It’s Barry’s.” A pause. “It’s yours.”

She couldn’t find it in her heart to disagree.

“I’ll leave you to your work, then.” Leaping off the chair, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for the help.”

Closing the door behind her, Dawn released Toto. She dusted off her plaid skirt, barely long enough to reach the knees of her jeans, and climbed onto the togekiss’ back. Its wings expanded in preparation to take off. When she first received it as a gift, the enormous wingspan always caught her off-guard, but years has passed since.

They took into the sky. She steered north, where a familiar destination awaited. The late autumn air lightly ruffled the locks of her dark blue hair. Idly, she wondered if a hat would have been a good idea.

Floaroma town hasn’t changed, seeing as she was only here a few days prior, but the gentle sway of camphorwood felt different without the knot in her stomach. Undeniably, she could feel the improvement in her own mental state.

She landed on the east side of town. By then, the afternoon was winding down, and she could feel a twinge of hunger. Eterna Forest was where she was heading, but going blind into it under the eventual darkness didn’t prove an enticing thought. Instead, Dawn approached a pint-sized wooden shack by the right of the entrance. The modest front porch must still have had her footprints, she thought. It also still creaked just like she remembered. There was no doorbell in sight, but three measured knocks did it.

“Dawn!” A familiar smile welcomed her behind that entrance. “You’re back.”

Cheryl has not changed much throughout the years Dawn has known her, and today was no different. Deep emerald hair, lightly shaded dress skirt, and sun-kissed skin gave the older woman an air of modest maturity that Dawn could never hope to match, but their clash of style didn’t impede their friendship. She let Dawn in as she has so many times before, then glided back onto the front of the stove where a bubbling pot was waiting.

“Will you be staying long?”

“Just one night, actually. I’m not actually running away from home this time.”

Cheryl let that sink in. The girl looked sincere enough that those words should be trustworthy, so she waited an amount attributed to healthy scepticism, and then a bit more.

“That’s great.” The aversion in her voice was apparent. “What’s changed?”

Dawn found herself a bit flustered.

“I’ve decided to return to the competition. It’s been a while, but my mom says it’d be good for me.”

“Never in my years of knowing you, would I have guessed you were the type to listen to your mother,” Cheryl replied with a wry smile. “But it’s alright if you don’t want to tell me the whole story.”

Getting caught in a lie had only reddened Dawn’s cheeks even more. She couldn’t make sense of from where this embarrassment was coming, just that she couldn’t speak of it out loud. Instead, she opted to approach the woman, poking a glance at the pot she was stirring.

“What are you making?”

“Spaghetti sauce.” Cheryl took a small pause to taste the food. “Dawn, be a dear and pass me the thyme please.”

The girl did as she was told and grabbed the small container off the lower shelves, all the while not taking her eyes of the thick dark orange paste that sizzled above the flames. It smelled like tomatoes, as it should, but also earthy and light. Cheryl peppered some ground thyme and basil to finish the dish, before taking a final taste test. It was good, they both knew from the smile on her face.

“It’s ready, but I’ll need to make the pasta still, especially with you here.”

Dawn leant against the wooden counter with a content sigh, watching the woman cook. She could not help, they tried that before, and neither of them wanted to repeat that incident.

“My mouth is already watering,” she admitted aloud.

Cheryl giggled.

“Just a few more minutes.” The woman turned the heat up beneath another pot, waiting for the water to boil. “You know you don’t need me for this. I’m sure your mom wouldn’t be against cooking this for you.”

Dawn replied with a timid smile.

“I guess. I’d prefer your place though. It’s easier to talk to you, I think. I’m not sure why.” She pressed her palms together in an apologetic manner. “Sorry for being a freeloader.”

The woman continued to stir the sauce while lowering its heat, flicking away a strand of hair that’s been stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“It’s too late to worry about that. I told you I appreciate your companionship, Dawn. It can get quite lonely here. Still…” She mulled the next few words over. “Your mom would too, you know?”

Chapter Text

The sun was firmly in the sky; its rays weaved through the opening of the branches to create shifting spots of light onto the grassy clearings below. Eterna Forest was beginning to welcome the season’s arrival, and with it the reddening of the leaves and the cadence of the winds. 

“We’re taking a left here,” said Cheryl.

She and Dawn laced between the walker’s path and less obvious ones. Years of abandonment has led this once popular tourist destination to become an overgrown maze. The wild life in the mean time has boomed in its variety. There has been species here Dawn has never seen in a 50-mile radius, and she used to know pokemon ecology of the entire region in-side-out.

“How do you even remember these paths?” asked Dawn, brushing the branches away from her hair. “I can barely see anything 3 meters ahead of me.”

“Every morning, if I’m alone, I take my walk here. Years went by, and I end up remembering the layout of the entire place.”

Dawn watched as a starly glided down towards Cheryl and sat on the woman’s shoulder, who proceeded to nudge its striped beak. The bird tapped its forehead on her cheeks, and chirped as she cupped her mouth and giggled.

Dawn stood and took in the scene.

They were on their way once more soon enough. Their destination was north bound, or at least that’s what Dawn could recall. It stirred up a few unpleasant memories.

“Why do you need to come here?” asked Cheryl.

“I left something that I need to get back.” Dawn paused as a small branch slipped from her fingers and flung at her forehead. “I didn’t think it through at the time.”

“Well, I believe we’re almost there.”

The dirt path cut off just ahead. Foliage had overtaken the old steel gate which lead into the inner courtyard, but Dawn could glimpse parts of the rustic paint glinting beneath the shade. The metal door whined a tragedy as it slowly opened inward.

“Is this like you remember?” asked Cheryl.

“It’s too much like what I remember.”

Dawn approached the front of the wooden gate. Despite the chaotic overgrowth around the clearing, the inner house itself seemed to radiate an aura that repelled all changes to its exterior. Two feet from every direction the grass perfectly uniform in height. There were no vines nor flowers to be found within this invisible perimeter despite their abundance outside, and Dawn could not hear a breath of life within this suffocating dome of foliage. Cheryl raised her hand as if expecting a gust of wind which never came. The purple tinted glass windows provided no shine, not helped by the lack of sunlight penetration from above. As far as Dawn could see, this place looked exactly the same as she had last seen in two years prior.

Except for one thing.

Cheryl tugged on the girl’s shirt and pointed towards the western side of the house. From there, they saw a dim, flickering light from inside. Ears to the glass, they heard rapping sounds of intermittent footsteps.

“Who could be here?” asked Cheryl.

Dawn gave no answer, but prompted the woman to be silent. The two looped towards the front door and waited for any more discerning noises. None came, and eventually there was a decision to make. Presently, Dawn slowly twisted the doorknob.

The inner chambers of the Old Chateau greeted her with a devious draft of air. The combination of decades of neglect and concealed ecosystem created a miasma that assaulted the senses with every step. The damp, smoky atmosphere was smothering, but it was something they could tolerate. The paint on the wall looked to have been seared off, and the lack of any furniture didn’t fit the expectations of an abode of this scale.

Quiet steps led them into the main hall. To their sides were swirling staircases, and into the middle was the sizable dining room. From here was where Cheryl spotted the glimmering candlelight. Dawn couldn’t be sure for which to prepare, but she had one hand on the trainer belt regardless. Approaching the entrance with caution, Dawn didn’t expect to hear a loud crashing sound behind her. Looking back, she saw Cheryl fumbling over a fallen coat hanger.

“Who goes there?”

She recognised that croaky voice, if only vaguely. All doubts disappeared, however, when the balding spectacled man came stumbling out onto the hallway in his white lab coat. 

“Charon?”

“Little brat!” He also had no trouble recognising her. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to ask you the same thing.”

The two entered into a momentary stare down, as neither was willing to budge with their intentions. Simultaneously, they threw out their pokeballs. Dawn’s togekiss took to her side, while the claw-fisted amphibian toxicroak was at Charon’s. Dawn might have been rusty, but she was sure she had never seen Charon actually engage in a battle before. She had always taken him to be the loud but cowardly type, and his shaky stance confirmed her suspicion.

The toxicroak made the first move, throwing its right arm in a hook with some speed behind it. Pipi weaved through the punch easily, but it was the single claw on the back of its opponent’s hand that was the true threat. A scratch from its sharp tip was enough to cause the avian pokemon great pain. As the togekiss yelped, Dawn commanded it to gain both distance and height. Its enemy out of reach, the toxicroak retreated back into a defensive stance, ready for the imminent counterattack. 

Dawn’s togekiss made a sharp turn as it skirted the ceiling. Its cylindrical form shot like a bullet, ripping through the enclosed chamber. Prepared, the toxicroak managed to roll dodged to its side and out of the line of impact. It didn’t, however, expect the rippling current of air that accompanied the wing dive, the strength of which was strong enough to send the poisonous flying towards the nearest beam, defeated.

Recalling it, Charon released his only remaining team member unto the battlefield: the dual-horned dark canine houdoom. As Dawn commanded her Pipi to return to a neutral hover, she could see black energy fuming inside the dog’s mouth. It primed an ethereal orb of abyssal power before crunching it into a fast-expanding pulse, large enough to hit the flying togekiss and almost knock it out. Sensing a need for adaptation, the girl switched out to her team’s recent return. The emperor penguin’s golden fin slammed onto the dusty floor as its metallic wings crossed to block the incoming attack. As she predicted, her empoleon took minimal damage.

Taking the initiative, the houndoom prepared for another attack. Smoke and sparks simmered from within its massive jaws, before it unleashed a sizable ball of fire threatening to overwhelm all in its path. Dawn had her pokemon take the brunt of the damage. The empleon wobbled a few steps, but srug off the char on its plates. Its beak popped open. The first to come out were mere gargling noises, but soon an eruption of water propelled forward. It engulfed the fiery canine on first contact, extinguishing the residual flames and washing it up on the far side of the room. Out of a team, Charon slumped in defeat.

“Time to start talking.” Dawn glared down on him as she approached. “What are you doing out of prison?”

“I escaped. What do you think?”

“To come here?” she asked.

“I should be asking that question. This is my house.”

This declaration stunned Dawn. Presently, she raked her memories of all that she has found in this house. The notes, the burned cabinets, and this revelation all pointed to one thing.

“You stay here, do not move.” She walked past him and towards the dining room. “Cheryl, come with me.”

The green-haired woman followed her steps.

The dining room was shrouded in darkness, except for the single which Dawn presumed Charon brought in. The first thing she did was to close the door behind her, then sat at the furthest end before gesturing Cheryl to do so besides her.

“What are we doing here?” asked the woman.

“Please close your eyes. Trust me,” said Dawn.

Cheryl obliged.

It didn’t matter, but Dawn needed to prepare her for what’s incoming, if able.

Minutes passed in complete silence. The single light source wavered occasionally, despite their being no wind. Dawn kept her breathing to a minimum, and simply focus on the candle. Its eerie aura extrapolated to the rest of the chamber, creating a dense cavity of pure claustrophobia. She could hear her own heartbeat at this point, and saw the teetering light syncing up with its rhythm. The atmosphere became heavier, as she noticed Cheryl’s breath drawing short. Taking the woman’s hand, Dawn noticed how she was beginning to sweat. She returned to staring at the fire, focused on it so much she was beginning to see double.

The second flame moved.

From just off sight, it drew closer to them. Despite the darkness, it was not possible to see who was holding this candle in motion. It stopped a mere arm’s length from the original flame.

“Welcome back, young mistress.”

Chapter Text

Dawn gave it a moment. She could feel Cheryl’s hand shook upon hearing the disembodied voice, but her own firm yet gentle grip assured the woman.

“Christopher,” she replied.

Dawn hid the shaking in her voice as well as possible. Despite this being the third time observing the ritual, it still frightened her quite a bit. For the sake of keeping her companion calm, however, she too must remain above ground.

“What do you need?” asked the voice of Christopher.

“We have guests. Prepare the table and bring him in.”

“Very good, miss.”

The gate connecting the dining room with the hall outside flung open. Charon was still outside, incredulous. As the meek light rays from yonder bled into the previous pitch black chamber, a figure could then be seen holding the second candle flame. It was easy to tell he was a man of some years, whose angular beard and eyebrows were pure white. Dressed in black and white tuxedo jacket, Christpher appeared exactly as Dawn remembered. He bowed down to her, and continued.

“Is there anything else, miss?”

“Get Cassie.”

The air stiffened. A shuddering breeze licked the open flame

“Are you sure that’s wise, miss?” asked Christopher, whose cadence slowed to match.

“I’m sure.”

“Very well, miss.”

From this end, Dawn could not see him below the abdomen, but she could tell he was not walking as he moved away towards the kitchen at the back room.

“Get in here, Charon,” she commanded, before turning to her left. “Cheryl, you can open your eyes now.”

Charon sat down at the table, across from Dawn at the far end. He did not appear to be in a cooperative mood. She knew he could have run whenever he wanted, but the fact that he’s still around practically confirmed her suspicions to be true.

“What’s going on, Dawn?” asked Cheryl.

Dawn saw that Charon was also expecting some answers, and elected to give it right then.

“Years ago, Gardenia showed me this place, as I’m sure she did the same to you,” she said as Cheyrl nodded. “Here, I discovered a strange pokemon possessing electronic appliances. It is called rotom, which I’m sure Charon here is familiar with.”

He begrudgingly nodded.

“It is why I’m here. It belongs to me.”

“I also found a few notes scattered around the house that spoke of a time before thedisaster that befell its inhabitants, decades ago.” Dawn pointed towards the ceiling. “Many things have been reduced to ashes and carried off over the years, but you can still see the markings of a raging fire in the burnt paint.”

“Get to the point,” said Charon.

“You must be aware of this, if you are truly the owner of this house.”

“I am,” he confirmed, “and I did lose family in that fire. Why are you bringing this up now?”

“It’s because there are people who have been looking for you,” said Dawn.

She felt an icy touch on her shoulders and heard a whisper in her ears. A gaze backwards told her what she needed to know.
“Is it time, miss?” the embodied voice has returned. Charon heard it, but saw nothing. He just stared blankly at a space besides the girl, stunned.

“Yes.”

From the ether, Cheryl yelped as two figures materialised beside her. She didn’t have the chance to see Christopher’s tall form yet, and the little girl of no more than twelve who held his hand as well.

Charon, on the other hand, sat in a daze. His eyes could not avert from what had transpired; they could not even blink. His quaking legs almost fell when they trudged off of the seat. On his knees, he crawled forward. His hands, many times bigger, carefully reached for the little girl’s. There was no touch upon contact, for his plump fingers simply passed through the shade. This realisation had him weeping.

“Charon,” she spoke. “It’s been a long time.”

“Cassie.” He could not face her. “How is this possible?”

“They have been here all this time, Charon,” said Dawn. “They simply didn’t want to see you.”

The lamentation became even more intense.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

Dawn sighed. After all these years, there it was, finally.

“I’ve missed you, brother,” said Cassie. “You’ve aged so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

Charon so badly wanted to hug her. His hands fumbled about the air like a blind man’s, trying to clutch at the ethereal.

Dawn left him to his devices, and gestured Cheryl to follow. It was at a curiously untouched refrigerator beneath the cabinets where she stopped.

“This is what I came here for.”

She pried open a pokeball in her belt. The familiar bright light appeared once more, sucking in the entire fridge at once, revealing a charred, decade-old model one beneath the camouflage. Stashing the rotom away, the two returned to the dining hall. There, they found Charon on his feet, the two spirits to his sides.

“Dawn,” he spoke with a cooler voice. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

“Please take care of these for me?” He handed her his two pokeballs. “I won’t be needing their services anymore. Set them free if that’s what you see fit.”

“Why can you not do that yourself?”

He exchanged gaze with Christopher.

“I believe it is the time for you to go, young mistress.” The butler took another gracious bow. “I thank you for everything.”

Dawn felt a strong gust pushing her out onto the hall, before the door slammed shut before her. Agitated, she thumped her fists against it to no avail. There was no response from the inside, despite her best efforts. Presently, she could smell a malevolent aroma. Smoke sipped from beneath the gap, and she soon could feel the heat emitting from the inside.

“Charon?” she yelled. “What are you doing?”

There was no reply. The flames could be heard flaring. She grabbed for her belt, but felt a hand against her wrists. It was Cheryl’s.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” said the woman.

“But this place is going to burn.”

“I think it’s time for old ghosts to rest.”

Dawn wanted to protest, but she knew Cheryl was right. She just wanted to reconcile the spectres of the past, not create more tragedies. Kicking the wooden door one last time, Dawn obliged her companion’s request.

A towering inferno overcame the entire mansion. The inevitable smell of charcoal assaulted the nostrils, causing a rustling from nearby insects as all evacuated the vicinity. Dawn and Cheryl looked on as the flames slowly consumed the house for the second and final time. As the roof began to cave and the walls started to hollow out, Dawn released her empoleon. She commanded it to drown the remaining ill-fuelled fire under a gigantic wave before it could spread to the rest of the clearing.

“It’s over,” she said.

On the walk back to Cheryl’s cabin, Dawn had to confront the reality that she stood as a man burned down his house and himself with it while she stood and watched. It was his wishes, but she felt the obligation to have denied it. She didn’t intend to cause something like this when she pushed for a confrontation. Would he still be alive if she had just taken the rotom and left?

“Dawn.”

She jerked back to attention as Cheryl grabbed her hands.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You’ve spaced out ever since we left. Are you feeling alright?”

“How are you so calm? We just watched a man burned to his death.”

“It sounds off if you put it like that, but isn’t he better off? No one’s blaming you except yourself, Dawn.”

The girl took that hard. She sat silently on the bed as Cheryl did the routine clean-up of the cabin, questioning herself. There’s so much weight on her mind that it baffled her how carefree her friend was taking it all. Cheryl being an asocial recluse didn’t explain it. Was it all in her head, then? Should she simply be shrugging off this demise?

Is she supposed to live with this forever?

Cheryl finished cooking at this point and sat down next to her.

“Tell me the story,” said the woman.

Dawn mused for a moment.

“I came to the old Chateau on Gardenia’s recommendations to investigate the presence of a mystery pokemon, and was how I found rotom.” She held the pokeball up to view. “I also discovered the past of the mansion, and why it was abandoned. Turns out, an oil fire broke out some twenty years ago. The butler along with the daughter perished in the tragedy. It was only on my second visit when I returned the rotom that Christopher and Cassie revealed themselves to me, for what reason I do not know.”

“And today we found out that it was the brother who caused the fire.”

Dawn thought about this. What exactly was going through Charon’s mind as he decided to let himself be consumed in the flames? Would the mansion burning down for the last time actually put all of this to rest? Was the weight of his sin so great that he felt the need to pay for it in this way?

She couldn’t sleep that night. 

Chapter Text

The next day came with the cool breeze. As she sat upon her togekiss’ large wing span, the outskirts of Hearthome city rolled into view. It has expanded since she saw it last, with residential areas cutting into many of the old grassy areas. Rumours had it: as Jubilife city continued its economic downward spiral, the capital city of Sinnoh will soon shift to Hearthome. She didn’t understand things enough to point out the factors at play, but she could see the signs. The old gates in and out of the perimeter stood in decay as the city has far outreached their usefulness.

She flew past above the contest hall. It looked remarkably modern compared to the rest of the city’s downtown, where old brick and mortar constructions still stood. The hall, on the other hand, looked like an actual structure built this century, with its convertible roof the size of a football stadium. The prominent, and perhaps gaudy, neon graphics in front of its entrance glistened as the display flickered to catch the eye of passers-by. An array of stalls decorated an entire walkway before it, no holds barred when it came to exploiting the crowd of thousands who flocked here every weekend.

Dawn recalled how her mother used to bring her there as a kid. She pondered for a moment whether that was what caused her hatred of all pokemon contests, having to wait for hours for Johanna to prepare for these competitions. She liked the dresses, but not the boredom, the older women fawning over her, nor the blaring speakers.

As the city disappeared from sight, Dawn began to lament the frosty gusts, especially at this height. A few other flyers could be seen at a distance, but she didn’t have the desire to engage with any of them. She hadn’t a desire to speak with any stranger for a long time. As if sensing her hesitation, Pipi slowed down slightly, angling its head upwards and awaited orders. Dawn just caressed its forehead, sending it forward as before.

The trip only felt longer afterwards. 

They managed to reach Lake Valour only when the sun was straight above. Dawn’s togekiss manoeuvred down towards the small island in the middle of the clear, misty body of water. A single opening into the rocks had moss growing outward. Dawn momentarily wondered if what she was looking for was still there. Turning on her flash light, she carefully approached the pitch-black interior of the cavern. Initial observations showed very little, but she could feel her skin becoming warmer. Presently, three small sources of light with a ruby tinge appeared amongst the depths. They drew closer to Dawn as she avoided shining her light towards them. Instead, she offered a slow palm, where Azelf snugly planted its cheeks.

“Hey there.” Dawn whispered to the grey fairy, whose golden eyes were now within view.

Azelf rubbed its stubby fingers on her coat, before giving it a light tug. She reminded herself that it wasn’t on her team for very long, and she had changed a lot in four years, especially in the height department. At sixteen, she was already taller than her mother, and would pass even Cynthia before long at this rate.

She smiled at this thought.

Azelf returned to its pokeball without much fuss.

Taking to the sky once more, Dawn’s togekiss rode the updraft to bring her to a better vantage point. She noted a shift in temperature since she was last up to this altitude an hour ago. The sun hasn’t moved much, yet her jacket felt a bit damp with sweat. A quick check of the poketch’s weather programme reported no abnormal forecast, but the local measurement was through the several degrees above expected. At this point, she began to actively look for any disturbances, and found it before long. To the north west was where the noise was coming from, along with a copious amount of fauna fleeing the area.

Dawn headed straight for what she believed to be Solaceon town. The ranches would be lively at this time of year, which didn’t bold well if what she feared had taken place.

Her destination not yet in sight, she felt a chill. She thought her eyes were blurred momentarily, but realised quickly it was actually the imminent shockwave. A thundering roar flew past, almost throwing her and pip off course. Mt. Coronent at a distance emitted thick, hazy smoke. She feared the most, before remembering that it was not a volcano. However, burning chunks of hot lava spewed into the air with such velocity as if to mock her perception. It then rained down towards the ground below in a fiery storm, igniting everything it touched. She heard screams of pain and confusion, and knew she had no choice but to press onwards.

She was already sweating buckets by the time the once green fields of Solaceon were in view. The residents were in a state of panic, for this was not a settlement equipped to deal with this kind of natural disaster. Help from big cities were dozens of miles away, and she could only hope shelter was at hand. Instead of joining the evacuation efforts, Dawn flew towards the mountain. The storm of magma had yet to stop after all this time, and she was aware enough to realise this was not a cruel joke of nature.

Circling around the other side of the mountain, she saw the source of the catastrophe. Almost hidden beneath the intense fog was the quadrupedal embodiment of steel and fire, identifiable only by the erratic patterns on its back. From its gaping mouth a pillar of lava disgorged upwards, creating the maelstrom of flames causing havoc beneath.

Dawn approached Heatran with great speed. She could feel her clothes burning up under the blazing atmosphere, but shrugged it off. She held onto her trainer belt, awaiting a shorter distance. She had a solution, but she may only get one chance. Her togekiss went into a dive, darting left and right to avoid molten projectiles erupting from below. Twenty metres above her mark, Dawn saw the opening. Toto went back into its pokeball and left her in freefall. Her empoleon took stage instead.

“Hydro Pump.”

It unleashed a massive volume of water that rode the momentum down. Heatran noticed the attack, and scuttered in an attempt to escape. However, the precision with which Pipi discharged the geyser overwhelmed its stubby legs. The metal beast nearly drowned under the wave, and its magma storm could not go on. It writhed in pain, before succumbing.  Dawn summoned her togekiss again, just in time to save its herself from an unfortunate collision with the ground.

She hit the slanted surface running. The smog had begun to dissipate, but this wouldn’t do. She needed to capture the threat. Her legs were weak, but she walked with assured steps toward the knocked out pokemon. She thought of the destruction caused below, and how long would it take to fix. She wondered why Heatran became so aggressive. She last saw it in Stark Mountain years before trying to prevent Charon from capturing it. What could have prompted this?

A distraction hit her.

Dawn stopped. She recalled the rumbling from when she was still in the air. Heatran might have been responsible for this molten upheaval, but that earthquake she felt was from something else. She considered the idea of it being a natural occurrence, but deemed such a coincidence ridiculous. 

The ground quavered in confirmation.

Dawn took to the air immediately just as giant fissures began ripping into the mountainside. A great tremble accompanied, as if the mountain itself was moving. Giant slabs of rocks and boulders were lifted from the ground and flung at her with immense force. The speed was so great that she didn’t have any time to manoeuvre away.

“Azelf, reflect."

The grey fairy flew out of its pokeball under her command. It conjured a purple bubble around the three of them. The rocks which smashed into the barrier lost most of their mass, but still medium-sized chunks of it made it through, despite the reduced velocity. Dawn turned around to protect her face and chest, but left her back battered by those gravelly projectiles. A bigger one slammed straight into her lower back and caused her to cry out in pain, nearly losing grip on the flier. 

Daring a glimpse backward, she saw what the crevices’ openings have revealed. It had been here all along, buried beneath the once grassy soil, a silhouette of a colossal golem. Its three-fingered hands, at a glacial pace, pushed the very terrain apart. The fleeting sun rays that managed to pass through the fog revealed those dreaded black stripes on its limbs and the tri-coloured gems running down its chest. Golden bands wrapped around its shoulders and wrists swatted trees about like flicking off toothpicks. Its immense caused irreparable damage to the earth with each movement. Dawn knew that those dotted holes in its front place were looking at her.

Regigigas has awoken.

Chapter Text

The massive golem pulled itself upwards, creating craters where its hands met the earth. Dawn noticed how its movement had gradually become faster as time went on. It would soon return to full power, and that would be a big issue. She didn’t know how it even got here from Snowpoint Temple, but just like Heatran, the people of Solaceon cannot be safe with how aggressive Regigigas was acting, especially if they had been lured into a false sense of security after the magma storm had ceased.

She turned her togekiss around. Azelf, who had been flying nearby, shot up towards the sky. Its eyes flashed a shade of red which matched the gemstone on its forehead, from where a wave of psychic energy burst out. The golem on the ground was hit with the blunt force of the attack, but shrugged off the damage without much reaction except for a momentarily shift in momentum. Dawn expected this, but seeing it happen still disheartened her. No one on her team had the sort of damage required to quickly take this behemoth down, and if she didn’t do it quickly the Heatran might wake up and cause problems as well. Thinking it through, she let Toto put her on the ground. Jumping off onto the shaky ground below, she sent it off to get help.

Only two members left on her team, Dawn scurried to find a way to stall Regigigas’ imminent rampage. Hiding behind a nearby tree, she noticed how the golem was scarcely paying attention to much of anything. The only reason it seemed to have attacked her was because she was too close. Even after Azelf’s aggression, Regigigas still made no attempts to retaliate, instead focusing purely on getting up right, no cake walk on this slanted surface with its weight.

Dawn released her empoleon once more. Per instructions, the metal bird spewed forth a sizeable stream of water directly beneath Regigigas’ feet. The giant slid and fell backwards onto the earth below. This was enough to cause a small tremor, and had Dawn clinging to the nearest tree trunk. She knew the attempt did little damage, but it got the hulking pokemon’s attention.

Regigigas had no neck with which to turn, but the way its shoulders slightly shifted towards her prompted Dawn to flee the immediate vicinity. The giant’s colossal arms slammed the ground with surprising speed in her direction. A shockwave tore through the already shaky grounds and created an artificial earthquake no less powerful than a real one. It was Dawn knees’s turn to buckle. Unable to hold onto the tree, she had only a moment to curse her lack of upper body strength before rolling down the mountainside. Pipi ran after her, but it was Azelf who was quick enough to pulled her up above ground, even if just for a moment. As its tiny fingers gave way, Dawn fell back down to earth. She stayed still for the quake has passed, but she was bruised and bleeding all over after the impact.

Wiping the crimson liquid off her cut lip, she kicked backed up to a standing position. Regigigas saw this and prepared another barrage of attacks. Chunks of stones in each hand, it flung these boulders towards her at great velocity, similar to before. At this point, Dawn’s empoleon has reached its trainer. Turning around, it crossed those sharp steel wings crossed into a defensive formation, taking the brunt of the rocks’ collision and keeping Dawn from being hurt any further.

Dawn took this moment to take a breath. She ran further downhill, with Azelf hovering close by. She hoped to at least steer the golem’s attention from the town, thus aimed down the other side to run. She could hear emergency vehicles pulling in from neighbouring cities. If Regigigas’ rampage came down on those unsuspecting innocents at this point, the consequences would be dire. She had no idea how long she could keep this up, which was a thought she was quick to discard.

Her first glance back revealed suspicious movements from all four limbs of the giant. She made a swift turn.

Her second glance back saw a curious change in shape of her target. The Regigigas began to curl up into a sphere.

She barely made it to her third glance. The giant took a moment to aim. This chilling moment of silence had Dawn switch direction, but it was not fast enough.

Those massive legs propelled off the ground with unfathomable speed, sending the immense form of Regigigas at her as quick as a bullet. Azelf had just finished conjuring up a protective barrier before the projectile hit both it and Dawn at near full speed. Even with the psychic shield taking the brunt of the damage, she still felt the breath living her body as the added velocity threw her into the air at great speed. As the initial shock wore off, she scrambled to not fall to her death for the second time. Her Azelf was still disoriented, and Empoleon had to take the stage again. A waterfall gushed from its beak in a smooth arc, allowing Dawn to surf the penguin down to relative safety. Even if she was soaking wet and might have had a few bones broken, she survived.

Regigigas landed not far behind her, causing another quake when its feet hits the ground. The giga impact left it momentarily stunned, allowing Dawn to put more distance between them. She didn’t have very much time, however, as the giant was on the move again before long. Seeing how her metal penguin shrugged off its boulder, it went for a different strategy. Raising its arm high, Regigigas repeatedly slammed its fists into the ground like an enraged primate, causing fissures to appear at the base of the mountain. The earthquake caught up to Dawn quickly, forcing her empoleon to suffer its effects. It crumbled quickly trying to get her on its back, leaving the girl defenceless.

She heard a familiar noise approaching.

Dawn turned around to face the titan. Regigigas, seeing her exposed, hurled another barrage of boulders at her. Out of the corner of its eyes came a figure fast as a blitzing bullet. Standing in front of Dawn was a blue, bipedal canine pokemon. Its spiky fists matched the speed of the thrown rocks with great precision, rendering her completely unharmed. Before Regigigas could go for another attack, the lucario had already closed the distance. Its steel fists unleashed a flurry of powerful punches targeting the joints of the titan. Dawn could hear the thunder of each impact as the strikes break down the weak points of the titanic creature.

The pummeling lasted for a full minute. As the lucario took a step back, Dawn could almost taste the stunned silence. Regigigas’ limbs crackled before dropping stone cold down to the earth below. This immense weight was enough to nearly topple her.

“Dawn.” She turned around, from where a young female voice came. “Are you alright?”

Maylene ran into view, with Dawn’s togekiss following quickly behind, wearing the all too familiar sweatpants and sleeveless shirt by which Dawn remembered her. The only difference was the eye-catching pink hair was now curved inward.

“I’m fine. I’m glad you got my message in time.”

Dawn lightly caressed Toto as a reward for a job well done.

“How come you knew I would be helping with the rescue efforts?” asked Maylene.

Dawn just smiled. She was too tired and didn’t want to explain just how much of it was blind faith. She certainly expected someone like Fantina to show up, but this was good too.

There was a flash.

Jerking her head back, she noticed how the titan pokemon was no longer there, instead only the enormous crater where it fell. Not wasting any time for further questions, she immediately took to the skies on Toto’s back. Steering it where she defeated Heatran, it became clear to her that the volcanic turtle was no longer there either. The reality of the situation became clear to her. Someone, who had been keeping a very close proximity, had been using Dawn to weaken these legendary pokemons and capture them as soon as they’re down. Try as she might, she couldn’t see anyone who might fit that description.

Dawn could only curse at the wind.

Chapter Text

Two weeks have passed in a blink of an eye as Dawn spent her time recovering in the city’s hospital. In the meantime, she made the point for Maylene not to inform her mother, and definitely not a certain someone, of her hospitalisation. Maylene herself happened to be nearby on a hike, and was the first person who looked capable which Dawn’s togekiss saw.

Speaking of whom.

“Dawn? Are you awake?”

Maylene’s pink hair was as easily identifiable as ever. Dawn pushed herself up to sit straight.

“Come in.”

Maylene sat on the visitor’s chair, sweating from the morning’s workout.

“How’re you feeling Dawn?” she asked.

“Doctors said I should be ready to leave today. Truth be told, I believe I could’ve left a week ago.” Just as Maylene was about to retort, Dawn continued. “But I understand that proper recovery is important.”

“That’s right.” Maylene’s pride was easy to see. “You got banged up pretty bad back there.”

Dawn certainly remembered it. The rush of adrenaline only staved off the pain for so long. By the time the stretcher delivered her onto the hospital bed she was sobbing mess. Being crushed repeatedly by large boulders would do that to a person.

“Either way I’m ready to leave.” She stretched her arms. “Has the investigation turned up anything?”

“Unfortunately no. I don’t personally don’t think they were taking us very seriously.”

“The police being as useless as ever,” Dawn shook her head. “A monster half the size of a skyscraper that caused earthquakes disappeared and none paid any mind.”

“I don’t think anyone but the two of us saw it.”

Dawn stopped herself from mouthing off. Instead, she took a deep breath and calmed down.

“When are you heading back to Veilstone, Maylene?” she asked.

“Anytime I want, really. What do you need?”

“I don’t really feel like flying right now. Can I come with you?”

“Sure, what’re you looking for, though?”

“Someone with a clue.”

The sight of Veilstone hit Dawn like a slab of stone. Massive buildings built right by the cliff’s edge, with an impossibly steep fall mere steps away. It made her nervous to look at, and she oft decided to simply not to. Stepping off of Maylene’s motorcycle, she expunged a deep breath. It had been years since she last travelled via vehicles, preferring to fly via Pipi. However, just this once, she wanted Pipi to take a break. The bumpy gravel roads gave her a scare or two, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

The inner city was not anymore welcoming than she has seen it last, and she didn’t have many fond memories of this place either. Before her was the Veilstone Casino, a massive sprawling complex and a far cry from the little game corner she used to frequent years ago. Maylene saw the looks she was giving it.

“New management.” Maylene shook her head. “I don’t like it, but it has brought a lot of business into this city.”

Dawn nodded. She was never the gambling, preferring the arcade machines over the slot ones, but those were long gone. She eyed the two guards in black standing up front, their menacing aura complimented by the pair of machokes at their side.

“I don’t suppose they’ll allow me in.”

Maylene thought over this.

“I suppose not. You have to be of age, I’m pretty sure.”

“What about a backdoor?”

“Maybe, but it’ll surely be locked.”

Dawn accepted that suggestion as fact, but she had an idea.

As the two pulled up on the south-east side of the complex, they quickly found the exit close to the trash compactor. This was the employee exit, she knew. She had Toto carried her above the door, but beneath the balcony as to not attract attention from those on the upper floors. Maylene summoned her infernape and commanded it to flick a small fire into the trash heap. It didn’t take long for someone to notice the smoke, and soon enough half a dozen guards were in the vicinity. The fire ape hopped up onto the motorcycle as Maylene drove away, drawing all attention and caused a chase.

Dawn took advantage of the momentary confusion and walked in without fear. From what she saw, the chaos was very much limited, as the patrons inside seemed to be completely unaware. Someone must have messed with the fire code in this building, she thought, but that was a problem for later.

Rows after rows of machines populated the ground floor, blurring into a star shaped pattern beneath the dimly lit ceiling. Groups huddled around tables of cards while individual drank away their losses in front of slot machines. Despite being early afternoon on a week day, the place was packed to the brim, from many she would hazard to have travelled here just for this. Finding one single man within this ocean of bodies was harder than she had anticipated. She could tell the people here from all walks of life, from their clothes, their age, and their fit. Unfortunately, none proved to be the one she was trying to locate. As she weaved her way across the spectrum of gambling addiction, Dawn came to a stop by the bar. Trying her best not to draw attention, she peered across the pale wooden counter, until something caught her eye.

On the other end, a slumped figure in a brown trench coat was reaching aimlessly across the space in front of him. This went on for a few more seconds until his hand happened upon a near-empty bottle of gin, almost knocking it off in the process. With a swiftness uncommonly seen in one so drunk, he took a swig, before letting the bottle go one last time, rolling it down the counter.

Dawn came to him, trying her best to hide her concern. She first tapped him on the shoulder only to receive no response. A further light shake at his slim frame resulted in the same. Only until she swiped a random water bottle and poured it down his khakis did he jolted up into focus. Eyes swimming, he met her gaze.

“You don’t seem so well, Looker,” Dawn said.

“Who the hell are you?”

Dawn sighed. She reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out his phone. Just as she expected, he hasn’t checked it in about a week. This would explain her inability to reach him while she was in the hospital. 

Looker himself didn’t seem particularly interested in what she had to say. He began to growl for the bartender, but only a stream of wretch poured from his mouth. Dawn cringed and stood away, as nearby patrons also inadvertently backed away. It didn’t take long for security to show up. Looker was thrown out with little civility as Dawn sneaked after them.

It took fifty minutes and a copious amount of water before she could see the glint of intelligence return to his eyes. By this point, she had given up on trying to prevent the noxious spew coming from his stomach from soiling his clothes, and just focused on not getting herself caught up in it. A final splash upon his eyelids seemed to have granted him some senses.

“You’re awake?” Dawn asked.

“I think so.” Their eyes met. “Dawn?”

“It’s me,” she replied, and helped him to his feet.

The first few steps were hard. Looker was still drunk, just no longer projectile vomiting. Hangover was going to hit him head on in the morning, but she needed his help right then. It was then when Dawn had a good look at the man. Looker had numerous small cuts around his knuckles and eyebrows, as well his left eye and lips being slightly swollen.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

For a moment, he contemplated. Dawn noticed his gaze gradually dropping as dark memories began to return. Scouring his pockets for his Interpol badge. Dawn noticed how faded it has become, with the golden pokeball crest chipped off by the edges.

He threw it at her.

“Looker?” she asked, worrying.

“Take it.” He spat.

“This is your badge,” she protested.

“I don’t deserve to hold it.” He was no longer looking up at all. “I’m nothing but a disappointment to the force.”

Dawn approached the slumping man. She saw his tears, and how his body shook with every breath. She gently touched the dried blood on his eyebrows.

“Who did this, Looker?”

“That’s the worst part.” He let out a painful chuckle. “I don’t even know.”

“Is this because of what I asked you to investigate?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I picked up on a trail a few days after you told me what happened. A mysterious woman had been spotted snooping around the Solaceon front of Mt. Coronet for a few days before the incident, and has disappeared right before the catastrophe took place.”

“That does sound awfully convenient.”

“So I tracked down her movements. Apparently she said she was going to Canalave City in passing, so naturally I followed.” An uncomfortable pause. “What a fool I was.”

“Was it a trap?”

“A damn obvious one, too.” He slammed his fist into the ground at great speed. Dawn couldn’t react, and as he carried on until it was bloody, she was too afraid to interfere. “The moment I walked into the library and started asking, I was knocked unconscious. I woke up a few hours later only to find my pokemon gone, and a message on my phone.”

Dawn recalled still having his phone. Pulling it out, she swiped it open. Looker was incredulous.

“How do you know my password?”

“It’s your badge number in reverse. Seeing the pattern once or twice was enough.”

Looker was speechless. Dawn scoured through his text messages before coming across the threat. It was very direct, guaranteeing the life of his pokemon only if he stayed out of it, sent from no doubt a burner phone. She glanced at him, unable to keep the pity out of her gaze.

He sighed.

“So now you know.” He wiped the sick off his face. “I’m sorry, Dawn, but I can’t be of use to you any longer.”

“What about your colleagues at Interpol? Surely they can do something?”

“If those people caught wind of it, they’ll know it was I who talked. I can’t risk that, Dawn.” He reached for his belt trying to find the pokeball that wasn’t there. “Please understand.”

It was undoubtedly a sensitive situation, and she had sympathy aplenty. However, even if he didn’t know it, he’d given her a lot of clues. She glanced at his badge one last time, before placing it into the palm of his hand.

“You hold onto this, detective.” She closed his fingers around it. “Thanks for the help.”

Chapter Text

Despite being well away from the swelling pools of lava bubbling from within the volcano’s, Dawn still felt the heat radiating the air around her. Not a minute climbing the increasingly arduous flight of stairs and she was already sweating bullets.

“You alright?” Buck asked.

“Yeah.”

Dawn had already changed into much breezier clothing in preparation for this trip, yet the white cotton T-shirt she donned had already begun to stick to her skin. Incredibly, Buck in his shorts and bundled up ponytail seemed as dextrous as ever. He was sweating as well, but his swift movements and sharp eyesight did not seem at all hindered. Dawn could only but admire in silent, then carried on with her march up the mountainside.

Stark Mountain seemed to be in even more unrest than the last time she has visited. Its tendency to expunge scalding steam and boiling geysers prevented any attempts at traversing in the air, especially not with the mountain as active as it was. When she called him up, Buck assured her that there wasn’t an eruption due for at least a decade. Still, she didn’t like those chances, and opted to traverse on foot.

Buck came to a stop, right before an entrance to the mountain’s interior. He released his torkoal from its pokeball. The flickering within its shell bore a striking resemblance to the fuming of this very mountain. On Buck’s command, the tortoise pokemon began to dig down with its fore legs. This went on for a minute, before it found a clump of volcanic rocks underneath layers of soot and dirt. Buck scooped them up and feed them to the torkoal. The more it consumed, the redder the glow inside its shell became. Presently, it propelled a dense white mist from those openings as well as its nose. The smoke covered the immediate vicinity, causing Dawn to cough lightly.

“I’m going to need you for this,” Buck said, “call your togekiss and have it blow this smoke into the cave.”

She did as he requested. It took a few minutes before the torkoal finished producing its fumes, but she had already heard the screeches and wing flaps of hundreds of zubats echoing from beyond that entrance.

“This should keep most of the wild pokemons clear from our paths,” said Buck.

“We could’ve just used a few repels.”

“Those wouldn’t have the same area of effect; I can tell you that.”

Dawn flicked her flashlight on as they headed deeper inside. She saw Buck’s demeanour shifted slightly. Every step he took came with a glance. The interior of Stark mountain has always been a bit of a maze, but that’s not what Buck was looking out for. The speed with which his feet carried told Dawn he could navigate this labyrinth in his sleep. It was something else entirely.

“There’s something wrong here,” Buck finally spoke. “Watch your step.”

He accelerated forward and dropped down a steep ledge. Dawn did the same, but got her left elbow caught on the edge. It was bleeding; she was sure, but opted not to tell her companion. She just wiped it on the side of her jeans and carried on. Buck was too occupied to notice. His hand was against the rocks, trying to feel something.

“What is it?” Dawn asked.

“Something has changed.” The look of distraught began to creep up on his face. “This place feels off. The temperature, the atmosphere, even the rocks are different.”

“Different how?”

“It’s more,” he looked for the word, “unstable.”

Dawn could not tell, but she didn’t expect to. Buck knew this mountain like the back of his hand, and if she didn’t trust his instincts, she wouldn’t have asked for him as a guide.

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Two weeks ago, or so.” Buck kneeled down to pick up a rock; his fingers kneaded its rough texture. “This could be bad.” He threw it at a nearby wall, causing a small explosion of soil and dust. “The integrity of the earth here is worrisome.”

“What do you think happened?”

Buck didn’t have an immediate answer for her. He only motioned her to follow as they descend nearer to the volcano’s core. Dawn had learnt her lesson, and had to take her steps deliberately. She could tell Buck was frustrated with her speed, but he understood enough to say anything unbecoming. It took them another half hour before arriving at what she remembered to be the focal point. This would be where she sealed off Heatran all those years ago with Looker and Buck. She hadn’t seen it for some time, but she could never forget.

“If Heatran is no longer here, as you said,” Buck spoke, “then that means the Magma Stone has also been lost.”

The two entered the inner chambers. Dawn had to take a second to process what she saw. Even Buck was dead in his tracks. He stomped the ground in frustration and threw about a few expletives.

The rock staircase to the Magma Stone pedestal has been completely destroyed, undoubtedly burying the pedestal beneath it. Off of its ledge, the molten magma pool that was burnt into Dawn’s memory has completely dried up.

After his initial outburst, Buck released his claydoll. It began to use its psychic powers to lift rock chunks off of the ruins.

“Help me with this,” he implored.

Dawn summoned Azelf to help with her the clearing efforts. Buck himself was down on his knees trying to speed up the process. Dawn tried to do the same, but it became apparent that her physical strength was far beneath his. She could only sweep away the smaller rocks, where Buck was pushing away boulders. Regardless, they eventually reached the ground level of rubble, and Buck was digging for a clue. It was when he saw glimpses of orange tinge that reality has hit him.

“The Magma Stone has been destroyed.” He raised his fist with irritation. “How could this be? No one could’ve controlled Heatran without it.” He turned to Dawn. “Are you sure of what you saw that day?”

“I still have burn marks to prove it, Buck.” She didn’t take kindly to his accusing tone.

“Then it makes no damn sense.” Buck began kicking the debris. “You were there. You saw what happened to Heatran when the Magma Stone was so much removed. How could anyone manage to control it without the artefact?”

Dawn didn’t have an answer, but the mountain itself did. The earth began to quake, and neither of them had plans of staying. Rock began to fall from the ceiling, stopping any attempt at flying out of here. They were going to have to run.

Wordlessly, they sprinted outward. The earthquake was becoming fiercer with every step, and it was all Dawn could do to not trip over herself. Buck was already ahead, and his claydoll not far behind. It tried its best to stop any falling boulders from hitting the two with psychic powers, but the coverage was not perfect. A large slab missed Dawn by just a hair, as Buck sidestepped a few himself.

“I could see the entrance,” Buck yelled. “We’ll make it.”

Dawn was out of breath, but the adrenaline was carrying her feet. She didn’t have the time to verify his words, only to follow him. In this moment of heightened senses, she could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t the mountain collapsing on them, but something far more sinister.

A vice grip wrapped her at an unexpected angle, she could not see it coming. Its strength was too strong that when it squeezed, she felt the air fled her lips. She caught a glance of six silver fingers as large as her torso pushing themselves into her body. It hurt, but she couldn’t scream. She tasted the blood in her mouth. Her fingers wanted to reach for her trainer belt, but could not muster the strength to do so.

Another quake shook the ground beneath her feet. She felt the grip loosened. A boulder was thrown past her, straight at whoever those fingers belonged to.

“Are you alright?” Buck screamed from the top of his lungs. Dawn was lucid enough to tell that his claydoll has managed to distract with its attack. Her senses returning, Dawn knew from what the ambush came. Wrestling herself to freedom, she rolled away from immediate danger. The ambusher turned to Buck. It picked up a chunk of the rock wall and threw it at him. The claydoll threw itself in the way to block the attack, but some of the debris struck him regardless. He groaned in pain as his pokemon fell. The ambusher turned to Dawn, only to find her Azelf summoned.

“Fire Blast,” she bellowed.

After a brief moment of orienting itself, Azelf fired off a stream of flames, which hit the steel body of the enemy with great force, throwing it backwards. The immense weight slamming into the wall caused even more rock slides. Having bought them time, Dawn resume the run. Azelf helped Buck back to his feet, as he recalled his wounded pokemon and headed straight for the exit.

Chapter Text

            Dawn and Buck were safely in the sky on the back of the fliers by the time the volcano was imploding. Emergency services had already taken notice of the situation, and hundreds of men and women responded to the imminent eruption of Stark Mountain. It was too far from the rest of the Survival Area to do any damage, but the inevitable smoke cloud will undoubtedly put the entire Battle Zone out of business for a while.

            “That was a trap,” Dawn said. “I’m not sure if it was for us, but we can’t rule it out.”

            Buck threw her a concerned look.

            “Are you sure you’re alright, Dawn? Things were pretty rough back there, and I saw you get grabbed by something.”

            Dawn casted a glance at her own arms. There were marks on them both of long, cold tendrils of sort that nearly squeezed the life out of her. There was very little doubt in her mind that her, or at least someone’s, death was part of the plan. The collapsing volcano and subsequent magma storm would’ve easily covered it up as well. This tactic is brutal and efficient, and she couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of being buried in there.

            “I’m not hurt badly,” she conceded. “No permanent damage I don’t think.”

            “You should go to the hospital regardless.” Buck steered his Skarmory closer to her, his expression filled with worry. “Your pokemon also need some attention, but it’s not often when I see a trainer more beat up than her pokemon.”

            Lucky, Dawn thought, this happens a lot to me.

            “I’ll be fine.” It hasn’t even been a week since she left the hospital, and staring at those sterile walls for another fortnight doesn’t give her any good feeling. “You report this back to the other Battle Tower heads.”

            “Will do,” Buck nodded. The silence continued for a briefly, before he began again. “I’ve a question, Dawn. It doesn’t have to do with what’s going on, but it’s been on my mind for a while.”

            “Yes?” His hesitation drew her attention, as he wasn’t one to usually watch his words.

            “It’s about Barry.” Buck’s words were uncharacteristically slow and careful. “He used to hang out here all the time to challenge you. Once you stopped coming all those years ago, I heard he left to take on the league. I saw him on TV the other day talking about it, but not once were you brought up.”

            Dawn didn’t answer, for he yet posed no question. However, the grim in her eyes were deterring his efforts. Presently, his determination pulled through.

            “What happened between you two?”

            She considered her answer very carefully, leaving her partner to wonder if this line of inquiry has offended her in some way. It did, if he had to guess.

            “Barry and I are not on speaking terms, haven’t been for a while” Dawn said. “He said some things. I said some things. Let’s leave it at that.”

            Buck could only sit in contemplation as Dawn’s togekiss darted away.

            Snowpoint City is a lot less cold during this time of the year, but that only meant the snow goes up to one’s knees and not ankles. Regardless, the city’s residents can expect to see the girl with a blue jacket jogging across the pier this early in the morning. Candice flicked the sweat off her brow as her feet thumped on the wet ground. It has been thirty minutes into her run, but the burn was coming in slower than usual. She briefly wondered if this was because she’s done this exact routine everyday for the past six years, but the thought lasted very little. What caught her eye was the sight of an incoming storm. An inexperienced tourist wouldn’t be able to tell, but she could tell just by the thickness of the falling snow and how the wind blew. She quickly pulled out a phone from her shorts pocket.

            “Send out a code yellow. Expect a hostile snowstorm that’ll last about two days.”

            No more than a minute after her message, the city’s alert system, comprised of many megaphones and alarms, emitted a low siren that enveloped the mountainside for a minute straight. As others hurried to bunker down for a few days and the guards left to close down the hikers’ pass, Candice headed towards the Snowpoint Temple. By the entrance, leaning on a pillar, was a familiar face.

            “Dawn?” she asked, surprise in her tone. “You picked a bad time to visit. We’re shutting down soon for a few days.”

            “I heard the alert, but this isn’t about that.” Dawn approached, the fur collar of her white snow coat fluttering in the wind. “When was the last time you checked in on our mutual friend on the bottom floor?”

            “The guards do that,” Candice answered. She could sense something was wrong. “Once a week, usually. They reported no issues last Sunday, which was three days ago.”

            “These them?” Dawn flicked her head back towards the two men posted deeper in the temple.

            “Yes.”

            “Why don’t you ask them?”

            Candice narrowed her eyes, then headed inwards, with Dawn on her heels. The two guards’ back straightened as they saw the gym leader approaching; their hands flung up to salute.

            “Good morning, Ms. Candice,” the one on the right greeted them first. “We heard the yellow alert. Is there something else?”

            “At ease,” Candice waved them off. “I’m here to check on the prisoner.”

            “Should be all accounted for, ma’am,” the other guard answered.

            Hesitating, Candice turned back to her old friend, only to see Dawn’s conviction not waver even a little bit. Being the Snowpoint Gym leader, and the city’s de facto mayor, was a very involved job. One may think taking care of a town with only a few dozen households should prove more straightforward, but the number of things she had to get involved with due to the lack of manpower would surprise many. At this moment, Candice wondered if she was stretch far too thin.

            “Let’s go.” She motioned the others to follow as she headed for the stairs. “I need to confirm this for myself.”

            The two guards exchanged a worrying glance, but they made no protest. Dawn kept pace, but didn’t neglect to cast a glance over her own shoulder every now and then. They descended the Snowpoint Temple with haste, Candice’s hulking mamoswine stomping its way in front to deter any wild pokemon interreference. As she set foot on the basement floor, Candice extended an arm to stop her followers. Peaking around the corner, she saw what she usually did: a titanic statue of Regigigas situated in the middle of space, surrounded by solid ice. It was then did she let the others through.

            Presently, the two guards saw it as well. They exchanged a relaxed sigh, having built up a significant amount of doubt on the way down. Dawn, on the other hand, held her solemn expression firm. She let loose her empoleon from her belt.

            “Pipi,” she ordered, “cut that thing down.”

            Before the others could object, the penguin had already slid through the ice with perfect precision. Crossing its razor-sharp wings, it slashed through the statue with minimal resistance. The Regigigas statue collapsed into pieces, slamming into the ice below and creating several gashes on the ground. Candice and the guards stared in disbelief.

            “What on earth?” she exclaimed. “How did you know?”

            “It’s a convincing fake,” said Dawn, “and would’ve fooled me no doubt. Unfortunately, I had the displeasure of running into the real Regigigas a couple of weeks ago.”

            “It’s been missing for at least a month?”

Candice almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She turned to the guards, but the only thing she saw was the fear in their eyes. She wanted to scream at them, but this was such an unexpected development that she couldn’t even say it was unreasonable of them to think nothing was out of the ordinary.

            “I came here to see if you or these guards knew anything, but whoever did this apparently pulled the wool over all of our eyes,” said Dawn.

            Candice felt her fury rising. She didn’t keep any nails, but her fingertips were starting to hurt her palms with how hard she was pushing them in. Presently, she pointed at the guards.

            “Code red,” she ordered. “No one’s leaving this city until I get to the bottom of this. Get me a list of every visitor for the past two months as well. Now!”

            As the two men scurried away, she slammed the left side of her palm into the base of the broken statue. That must have hurt, Dawn thought, but there probably were far too many emotions going through Candice’s head right now for her to care about that.

            “We should get out of here,” Dawn proposed.

            She didn’t receive an answer, but Candice grimly followed her suggestion regardless. In a moment, the freezing wind of the incoming blizzard rushed past their skin as they emerged from the temple’s depths. Dawn could hear the rising panic within the populace, despite the blitzing wind. To her right, Candice stood frozen in place, face contorted from the myriad of emotions.

            Dawn pulled out her phone. There was a call she must make.

Chapter Text

Candice slammed her hand onto the wooden table.

“What do you mean there’s nothing to see?”

Dusk has enveloped the sky, and the flickering rays of light coming through her office window could no longer provide significant illumination compared to the burning oil lamps. Dawn stood to the side, watching the Snowpoint city mayor interrogate the head of every household in the city, one by one.

“I’m sorry Ms. Candice, but nothing we’ve checked turned up anything notable,” explained one of the men from the temple. This was his job now, seeing as there was no longer anything to guard. “Every resident is accounted for, and there weren’t any records of any visitor that hasn’t been a regular face.”

“Impossible.” Candice was screaming at this point, a sight not frequent, but not surprising to everyone in the room. “How can you tell me with a straight face that someone managed to carry that giant statue down to the basement floor without a single person noticing?”

No one had an answer for her.

“The temple is guarded 24/7, yes?” asked Dawn.

“Yes, miss,” the man answered.

“You must have shifts then. Who were the night shift guards around five to six weeks ago?”

“Only one, actually,” said Candice. “That should be Owen.”

Her eyes darted towards a pale, lanky man at the corner of the room. Hearing his name, Owen reluctantly stepped up towards the desk, hands firmly inside his pockets. Every pair of eyes around the room were on him, awaiting an opener that never came.

“Do you have anything to say?” asked Candice.

“I don’t, Ms. Candice.” Owen didn’t sound very pleased about being singled out. “I was only on shift for two weeks. I didn’t see anything worth reporting on.”

“Is that so?” Candice threw her hands up in an exaggerated gesture. “Can anyone else offer up anything more substantial than that? An explanation, maybe? A suggestion, better yet?”

Dead silence.

 Her eyes scanned the room like those of a predator, and most elected to not meet their gaze directly. Owen himself took a few steps back as the mayor’s stare eventually returned to him. He looked to his right, then to his left, but found no offer to help.

“Get the hell out of my office, all of you!” she growled through gritted teeth.

Few have witnessed a swifter retreat from the premises. As the last pair of boots scurried off the doorstep, the mayor office’s door was left ajar. No one thought to extend her that little bit of courtesy, leaving Candice in pure distraught. She collapsed onto her chair, face in hand.

“What am I supposed to do?” she groaned. “I can’t do anything. I’m yelling at all of these people but I’m the useless one here.” She slumped onto her desk. “Wait until the governor hear about this.”

“We’ve all gotten the wool pulled over our eyes,” said Dawn. “Still, you’re the only one I can trust with this investigation. This is the last lead I have.”

“I’m not sure if I’m much help. I’m not good for much of anything.”

Dawn could see the string of tears running down the side of Candice’s cheeks. It wasn’t her place to offer support, not that she could even if she tried. She was already holding in plenty of frustration, and her patience with this case was approaching its limit.

“Maybe you just need some encouragement.”

Candice slowly turned her head to Dawn, puzzled. Before she could ask, her phone rang.

“Yes, news?” she picked up the phone, clumsily wiping the sniffles away.

“You have a visitor, miss.” On the other end was a gate guard watching over the city entrance.

“What do you mean visitor? The city’s on lockdown.”

“I’m sorry miss, we couldn’t stop her.” The line cut out.

Presently, the office door flung open. A pink-haired silhouette slipped with great haste into the room, and swept Candice off her feet before she could form a protest.

“Maylene?” was all she could mutter.

“Hey Candy, been a while.” The Veilstone City’s gym leader presented a sparkling smile as a half-apology for the suddenness of her appearance, and perhaps also the brazenness of her bravado. “I heard you might need some help.”

“You heard?” Recollecting herself, Candice’s mind was instantly on the only possible culprit. “Dawn?” she turned to the girl.

Dawn shrugged, and went to close the door for good this time, as she wasn’t appreciative of the cold air seeping in. Unlike Maylene, she couldn’t possibly withstand this temperature barefooted, and similar insanity.

“So, what can I do for you?” asked Maylene, her enthusiasm contagious, and the absolute opposite of Dawn’s melancholic dreariness.

Candice didn’t know how to answer at first. She didn’t like the feeling of being carried like a princess, but she didn’t hate the firmness of Maylene’s chiselled biceps holding up her back and legs either. Embarrassed, she curled to hide her face in those toned arms.

“Can you put me down please?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I got carried away.”

Maylene gently lowered her onto the chair, where she sat and processed those feelings. Dawn has returned at this point, and watched Maylene kneeling down next to Snowpoint’s mayor. Those two linked hands, and Candice took a deep breath.

“Alright,” she began, “we can organise this a bit.”

She pulled up her laptop, and rummaged through all the information channels she could find. Presently, she closed it again.

“Anything?” said Dawn.

“As far as I know, you’re the first person who reported the sighting of Regigigas outside of the temple, none since. Does anyone else know?”

“I do.” Maylene raised a hand. “But Dawn asked me specifically not to share it.”

“Ok. Working off the assumption that there weren’t any reports of it before your incident, nor after it, it might be safe to bet on whoever doing this not planning on going a rampage with the legendary pokemon.”

Dawn nodded.

“Given that, we should have a bit of time to work it out. If only they’d let me install cameras in the temple like I always said. Damn governors and their stupid appeal to tradition.”

“Candy…” Maylene nudged.

“Fine, that’s not important right now.” Candice refocused her train of thought. “Where was it that you saw it last?”

“The outskirts of Hearthome, very close to Solaceon” Dawn answered.

A moment of thought.

“Was this reported as an earthquake on the news? I remember hearing about that.”

Maylene and Dawn nodded. Dawn presented a brief recap of what happened that day, from what she could remember.

“What if we get someone, a geologist or archaeologist, to test the site? I’m sure those people can determine the age of soil and such, maybe pinpoint how long the Regigigas had been lying in wait for the ambush. That’d give us a better timeline, and maybe I can offer some better record tracking on my end once we have that information.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Dawn said. “It’s the only one we have, either way.”

The howling wind slammed into the windows. Despite the sealed chamber, they could swear the oil lamps were flickering.

“The weather’s getting quite bad soon,” said Candice.

Dawn pulled her hoodie overhead.

“If I wanted to leave, I have to do it now.” Dawn gave herself a quick shake to get the blood pumping. “Please keep me updated.” She headed towards the door, but shot a quick glance back. “And Maylene.”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of her.” Dawn put her hands into her pockets, then turned away. “She’s overworked and understaffed. She won’t admit it, which I why I’m leaving before she could yell at me.”

Dawn shut the door and dropped the bolt on her way out.

“Is that true?” asked Maylene, now that the two gym leaders were alone. “I knew you were busy; we hardly have the chance to talk anymore, but you didn’t tell me things were bad.”

“It’s been… stressful,” Candice admitted, “but I’m in no position to complain. I fought so hard for this job. I wanted to prove that I could be handle both the gym and the city. We didn’t have anyone stepping up to do it. People were planning to leave, I…”

Maylene waited for her to get the words out.

“I just wanted the city I grew up in to still be here when it’s all said and done.” Candice was breaking up. “I’m not qualified for this. The only thing I could do was to shout at people to do their job. Now they all hate me. Why wouldn’t they?”

Maylene drew her in for an embrace. Candice didn’t resist, her fingernails light scratching that wide, toned back.

“I never noticed how you’ve become so… strong,” she said.

“The training has to pay off sooner or later,” Maylene was beaming with pride. “Ever since all those years ago, I’ve always thought of putting this strength to good use, to carry you places perhaps, if you’d let me.”

“We’re adults now,” said Candice. “Do you still think the same?”

“Of course.” Maylene slapped her own shoulders. “Times may be hard, but these will always be yours.”

Candice couldn’t help but chuckle at the awkward phrasing. Twenty some years old, but her friend didn’t really change. She could see it in those eyes. Her arms draped over those shoulders, and the distance between them became but a formality.

Chapter Text

Celestic Town has always been a quiet destination. For how much of Sinnoh’s history is kept here, the appeal for tourists had never matched up. The residents didn’t mind, however, as few can imagine the small town receiving any more attention than it did.

Dawn landed on the outskirts of town. There was a certain unfamiliarity to it, and for how much she had trotted through the entire region all those years ago, this just wasn’t somewhere to which she had much interest in returning. The blizzard from the north didn’t look like it’ll be too bad on the town, but the sky was nevertheless splashed grey, even beneath the general lack of sunlight at this hour of dusk.

Her stop was the house on the northern most end of town. She had never been there herself, only heard of it, but it was where she needed to be. This residence was a bit more lavish than the rest of its neighbours, but nevertheless retained the rustic veneer and wooden foundation that the entire town was known for.

Dawn gave the doorbell a firm ring.

After a more than adequate amount of waiting, the door slowly opened inward. Standing inside was an old, grey-haired woman with a cane to her side. She lifted her head to greet Dawn with a reserved smile.

“Who are you, dear?” the woman asked.

“Good evening, elder. My name is Dawn.” The girl took a gracious bow. “We’ve met once before, but that was four years ago, so I wouldn’t expect you to ...”

Unlike what she had expected, however, the elder’s eyes lit up. She lifted her cane with an excited vigour and pointed it at the visitor. “I know you. Aren’t you that girl that became the champion of Sinnoh all those years ago?”

Dawn gave a curt, somewhat embarrassed, nod.

“I’m glad you remember,” she said.

“I can hardly forget,” the elder gave a light chuckle. “My granddaughter used to talk about you all the time.”

Dawn fought down the sudden urge of melancholy bubbling up inside her.

“I’m here to ask for your help, ma’am.” From her backpack, she presented a sealed box. “I heard that you used to be geologist in your younger days. I was wondering if you, or anyone you could refer me to, would be able to help me determine the age of the soil I have here.”

“I’m glad to help, but please step inside.” The elder made way. “This old woman cannot stand the cold like she used to.”

“Yes, of course. I apologise.”

Dawn hurried inside the old cottage, as the elder locked the door after her. She was thankful for the warmth radiating from the fireplace, and there was a certain homely feel to the way the old woman’s personal belongings were scattered about the chamber.

A low table was positioned in the middle of the room, and there were no chairs to be found around it, only zabutons. While the elder kneeled onto it with grace, as expected of one who’s done so thousands of times, Dawn struggled to bend her knees. She felt a crack at an undetermined joint, and nearly fell flat on her back. Eventually, she found sitting on her feet gave her the least discomfort, at least for the moment, and so chose to situate on the opposite end of the table.

“Please have some tea, dear.” The elder poured out a modest teacup for the girl, before doing so for herself as well. Seeing as the girl didn’t move to grab it, she drank hers nevertheless. “What is it you’re asking me to look at?”

Dawn put the box on the table again, and then carefully opened it as to not let the dirt inside spill out onto the immaculately kept living room.

“I would like help to determine the age of this soil, or whichever term it is the scientists use.”

The elder stared at the specimen before her. To Dawn, it was a chunk of brown dirt and pebbles, mixed in with a bit of vegetation and water. She took this much from the earthquake site at Mt. Coronet, but she wasn’t aware of how much or where to do so. Even if this wasn’t enough, however, she could always get more. As long as she has the elder cooperating, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“This soil is rather loose, and the horizons are blended,” said the old woman. “It’s recent, if I had to guess, but how recent I cannot say without seeing the surrounding earth as well.”

“How much would you need to determine it more accurately?”

“Bringing chunks like this wouldn’t work, dear.” The elder motioned for Dawn to move the box back, as she reeled to help the strain of her back. “The composition of the dirt tells me you got this from a nearby mountain, where a gradual measurement of

changes in maturity is needed to give you a good answer. You’d need someone knowledgeable in the field, and I’m sorry to say I don’t have what’s needed left in me to move too far from this town.”

“Do you know of anyone else then? I can go ask them instead, under your recommendations.”

The doorbell rang.

Dawn and the elder turned towards the entrance, and they can hear the tiny clicking sound of keys being inserted into the lock. The doorknob turned swiftly, as a blonde silhouette entered back-first into the room.

“Grandma, I’m here for a visit.” A silky voice echoed across the room. “There’s a blizzard churning up north; I wanted to make sure you’re alright. Do we have a visitor?”

Having finished taking off her boots, Cynthia turned towards the living room. Her eyes landed on the guest sitting at the tea table.

A deafening silence overtook the atmosphere, and ended when she shut the door behind her.

“Dawn, it’s good to see you.” Her words were slow and deliberate.

“Cynthia, it’s…” the girl didn’t finish.

“Come, dear girl, sit down,” the elder lightly patted the cushion to her right. “Dawn here was asking for help with a bit of geology. We need a field expert, and I cannot think of anyone more suitable than you.”

Cynthia obliged her grandmother’s request. Despite the awkward silence, hers and Dawn’s gaze locked as she walked across the room and sat down. Presently, the blonde woman moved to observe the content of the box. The conclusion she came to was identical, though not in that many words.

“I would need to see this for myself to say any more. There is not enough data here.”

“You wouldn’t have any issue assisting Dawn with this, would you?” said the elder.

Cynthia awaited a protest from the girl, and did not hear one.

“I can help,” she said.

“Splendid.” The elder moved to pick herself up. “These old bones need a minute, please keep our guest company, dear.”

She lightly patted her granddaughter on the back, before retreating to her chambers.

The flames flickered as the last traces of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon. Dawn looked downwards. The increasingly less hot tea in front of her whisked away its essence with every breath she took.

“Are you doing well, Dawn?” asked Cynthia.

The girl shook her head.

“I see,” the woman sighed, “I’m sorry to hear that.” A pause. “Can I help?”

“This is about that.” Dawn pointed at the box.

“I see.” Cynthia glanced at the box again. “Have you gotten yourself into something dangerous?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can still the bruises on your arm.”
It was true. Dawn had elected to hide it from Candice with her overcoat, but now that she was inside, she had completely forgotten about the injuries from Stark Mountain. The elder didn’t mention them, but it was nevertheless careless of her.

“It’s not important.”

Cynthia stood up and went to a nearby cabinet where they kept the first-aid kit. Without warning, she brought it next to the girl, and sat down.

“Please give me your arm,” she said.

“I don’t need your help,” Dawn protested.

“Please.” It was equal parts a demand and a plea.

It took a moment, but Dawn stopped resisting. Cynthia took the girl’s slender arm in her hand. A light press on the bruised skin caused her to hiss. Despite this, it was Cynthia who looked like she was in serious pain. She applied a cool medicinal balm onto the area, then wrapped it inside an elastic bandage. She repeated this process for the other arm as well.

Putting away the equipment, Cynthia settled down in opposite the girl once again.

“Are you cold?” asked Cynthia. “I can get you a blanket.”

“Cynthia.” Dawn’s words were cold and methodical. “Stop.”

“I understand we’re not exactly seeing eye-to-eye, Dawn, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Then why did you leave?” Those words shot out of her with pure malice. “You told me you must go, but wouldn’t tell me why. I begged and I cried for you to stay, but you disappeared without a trace. I searched for weeks; did you know that? I thought something terrible has happened, and I was willing to let you be a part of my memory. Yet four years later I found you sitting in my living room, with mom telling me you two just happened to run into one another. How exactly did you think I was going to feel?”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say. That’s all you ever say.” Dawn was at the end of her rope. “I want an answer. Can you give me that, at least?”

Cynthia intertwined her fingers in deliberation.

Chapter Text

The Spring Path enveloped the two as they navigated the dense vegetation that has long overgrown human usage. Rows after rows of pine trees, striking in their uniformity, marked a dedicated path across the base of the hillside. The local fauna didn't often interfere with travellers crossing this path, and it didn't this time either.

"We're almost there," said Cynthia, "and someone else had definitely been here recently.”

The tracks on which they walked had been defined for centuries, but received very little general usage. The lack of knowledge of its destination was the main contributor, but even if one knew, there'd be very little reason to go regardless. That in mind, the signs of a clumsy, hasty run going the opposite direction was clear. It must have been weeks ago, at least, and so there weren't any footprints despite the dampness, but a line of broken branches and torn leaves was visible were one to look for it.

She looked back at her companion. Dawn was silent, footsteps matching hers. The two were far enough south that there was little sign of the blizzard this far down, but the air was still chilled with animosity. Cynthia could only sigh as she continued on. She was shown this trail years ago as she became champion, and was designated the guardian of Sendoff Spring for those few years where she stayed at the top of the Sinnoh League. With Dawn's relinquishment of the title four years ago, however, she was no longer privy to the identity of the current guardian.

Sunlight blared onto them as they arrived at the hillside death drop. Cynthia released her lucario, who cracked its knuckles in anticipation. Dawn's empoleon soon joined its side, as the girl hopped onto its back. The silence was deafening, even as the two pokemon recognised each other from the years long past, and exchanged a few excited cries. Their trainers, on the other hand, elected to not join in.

The climb up was treacherous, due to the sheer height of the drop, but uneventful. Presently, Cynthia stood at the edge of a concave and looked upon the lake below. The water was blue and clear as one'd expect, but the lack of any visible aquatic life form was an obvious red flag.

"It's too quiet here," she said, "this place is supposed to be brimming with wildlife, so far removed from civilisation, yet there's nothing here."

Dawn didn't answer immediately, but she did look around to confirm. It was apparent.

"What could've done this?" the girl finally asked.

"Either a significant imbalance in the atmosphere," Cynthia looked back to check on their pokemon, who appeared unaffected by any malicious ambiance, "or something's gone horribly wrong with the barrier."

It was obvious to her which one it'd be, and Dawn must have noticed as well.

"So, we're heading in, then?" she asked.

"I don't think we've much choice."

The two circled onto the other side of the hill where a cave entrance was located on the bank of the lake. Their pokemon carried them down once more. Even before their feet was on the ground, however, it was obvious that something was amiss. Dawn felt an ominous familiarity, which she eventually placed as similar to the what she felt when she was in the Old Château: a sense of dread and decay.

"Cynthia," she began, "can you feel that?"

The blonde woman nodded.

"Can you please wait here?" Cynthia asked.

"No." Dawn stepped forward. "I'm coming in no matter what. The real question is whether you're coming with me."

Cynthia digressed. She knew this would happen, and elected to walk side-by-side Dawn into the Turnback Cave.

A few steps in, a dense fog overwhelmed their sight. This was an expected local feature, however, and they quickly oriented themselves with a wall to keep track. With their visibility reduced to nearly nothing, Cynthia reached out to grab Dawn's hand. Surprisingly, she received no resistance. The girl's hand was warm, and not as small as she remembered, which was a momentary distraction. Reality snapped at her presently, and she led the way.

The mist, so thick it felt like goo, weighed them down, and they had to struggle to make much progress. This cave is filled with enormous amounts of nearly identical chambers, and an inexperienced traveller will inevitably get loss. Cynthia, however, knew nearly every nook and cranny within these stone walls, having been its guardian for years. She knew to expect to run into a lot of ghost pokemons here, where the veil between dimensions was weak. However, they didn’t encounter a single one. Cynthia didn’t comment on this lack of distraction, instead focused on navigating the maze of endless repeating rooms that was the Turnback Cave. She has traversed these doors enough to know that it was basically pure chance, but there wasn’t much she could do but bull through these entryways one at a time. Random rock formations populated these rooms, combining into a certain letter. However, they didn’t have the time to make out any sort of message, for the fog was overwhelming, and elected to simply brute force their way to the closest end of the room that’s not blocked.

As the mist waned, they found a pillar in the middle of the room, adorned with words of warning at the front. Cynthia almost ignored it at first, the visibility in the room was bad enough. However, this initially familiar phrase wasn’t quite what she remembered, but only slightly.

“Dawn, please come look at this.”

The girl obliged, and moved forward to study the inscription.

“What am I looking for?” she asked.

“I don’t remember the carving reading this,” Cynthia said, “did it change while you were the guardian?”

Dawn ran her left hand over the script, but kept her right in Cynthia’s grasp.

… Past three pillars … to the dead …

“No, I’ve never seen this.”

Their eyes met, filled with concern.

“We need to hurry,” said Cynthia.

Though the exits were at four different directions, she could never help the feeling that they were descending past every entry. She didn’t know if Dawn was keeping count, but the number was catching up fast. At this point, with every room being identical, they rushed through these without much more than muscle memory.

The second pillar came into view after more than a dozen rooms. Cynthia rushed to it, only to find the inscription showing the same ominous message. This was no prank, but they knew that going in. The only mystery is what caused it.

“Be on your guard,” she said, “we’ll be at the portal soon.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this alone?” Dawn asked.

“No, but I’ve a feeling we’re on the clock.”

Unlike the first two, the third pillar was only a minute away. Cynthia and Dawn entered the final chamber to find an oval portal of pure black in front of it, emitting an eerie aura. The air within this room seemed to have come to a stop, and they could barely breath. However, none of this was unexpected, as both has traversed this descending maze enough. That didn’t stop their nerves, and they could tell by the sweat between their palms.

Cynthia turned to the girl.

“Is there any way I can convince you to wait out here?” she asked.

“Are you still trying to get rid of me?” Dawn shot back. “Why are you so insistent on doing everything by yourself?”

The blonde woman considered this for a moment.

“It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

Cynthia let go of Dawn’s hand, and went into the portal. The girl stood still, stunned. She didn’t have a response to that, nor she did she have the time to think of one. After the momentary shock, Dawn hurried after the woman.

The other side of the portal was the deafening silence of the Distortion World. This realm of violet light and floating platforms defy all known laws of physics, and the effect of extremely strong local gravity disoriented Dawn greatly the moment she stepped through it. Clutching to the ground for a moment, her body rapidly adapted to the unholy nature of this place. With her sense returning to their normal capacity, she saw Cynthia a few metres away, standing completely still. Before the woman, a shadowy figure lay.

It was a man of some age, covered in his own oversized lime-coloured jacket. His blonde hair was of a lighter, sharper shade than Cynthia’s, but Dawn recognised it all the same.

“Mr. Palmer?”

Dawn rushed to his side. Her eyes didn’t deceive her, as this was indeed Frontier Brain Palmer, father of Barry. He gave her no reply however, and was cold to the touch. The implications dawned on the girl, and she was on her knees, desperately trying to shake him awake. This went on for half a minute, before Cynthia kneeled down next to her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Dawn, he’s not waking up.”

The girl was perfectly aware of that, but it didn’t stop her.

Chapter Text

Every worldly attachment was a vector of pain.

Cynthia looked down at the sobbing girl, who was burying her face into the chest of the deceased blonde man. There was nothing they could’ve done. She did try her best to get Dawn to stay behind. This was the price of knowing.

In the meantime, a cursory glance revealed no other life form, living or dead, within the vicinity. For such a shadowy expanse, the cubed maze orientation of the floating platforms around them made it very easy to map out, and it was very obvious to her something was missing.

“Dawn,” Cynthia said, “we can’t stay here. We must let others know.”

Her words seemed to have no effect. Sighing, she moved to pick up the man. However, she immediately encountered great resistance as the girl clumsily wrestled his body away.

“Don’t touch him,” Dawn growled.

Cynthia shook her head, then sat down.

“Were you close?” she asked.

“This man is,” Dawn caught herself, “was the closest I ever had to a dad.”

Cynthia recalled Johanna speaking of her absent husband. The woman didn’t clarify what his job was exactly, but it was clear that he wasn’t a very familiar presence in Dawn’s life growing up. Johanna seemed oddly content with this, she thought, but Dawn has never mentioned their relationship before.

Palmer, on the other hand, had a reputation Cynthia knew very well. Not only was he the Tower Tycoon of the Battle Tower, he was also Barry’s father. He and Cynthia never chatted, due to the Battle Frontier’s independence operations from the Sinnoh League, but they knew each other professionally.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Dawn took a long moment.

“Barry and I were inseparable growing up.” She choked out a pained chuckle. “Mr. Palmer was always busy, but he would always be home by dinnertime. He would ask his wife to always have food ready for me, and he’d always comment on how fast I was growing. Barry used to complain all the time that his dad was giving me special treatment.” A small smile appeared beneath those teary cheeks. “Even after Barry and I stopped speaking to each other, Mr. Palmer would still send me updates on his son and ask how I was doing. He always said we should put our differences aside and make up finally.” Dawn dropped her head.

Cynthia had nothing to say. She took the time to inspect the dead body. It was impossible to determine just how much time has passed since Palmer has died, as time didn’t flow correctly within this realm. It could’ve been months, for all she knew, but that shouldn’t be too hard to find out. All she needed to do was to place a call to the Battle Frontier or to Palmer’s wife to ask the last time anyone has spoken to him. Once she has established the timeline, she was confident in being able to place this event in relation to Dawn’s life-threatening encounter at Mt. Coronet. What troubled her, however, was that there was no apparent cause of death. There weren’t any wounds she could see, and he didn’t look to have starved. Could he have just stopped breathing, somehow? The thought made her shudder.

Presently, she felt the girl’s tug on her sleeve.

“Who did this, Cynthia?” asked Dawn, her voice quivering.

Cynthia scratched her head.

“I can’t see any physical evidence, but the fact that no one else is here can only mean one thing,” she answered.

The girl knew. In a moment, her tears stopped. She put her arms beneath Palmer’s body and tried to lift him, but clearly lacked the physical strength to do so. Cynthia helped vaulted him over her own shoulder in a fireman carry. He was heavier than she expected, but it was mostly technique on her part. They could’ve easily summoned a pokemon to do this laborious task, but Cynthia figured it didn’t feel right to the girl. Dawn didn’t say anything, but she was impressed.

The way to the exit was significantly easier than entry, and soon enough the sunlight of Sendoff Spring blared down on them. Cynthia caught her companion’s glimpses towards her direction, but couldn’t tell who it was really for.

“Cynthia,” Dawn said, “can you take Mr. Palmer’s body back to his family?”

The woman contemplated this suggestion briefly.

“Alright, Dawn. I’ll be informing the other Frontier Brains of this, as well as the facilities’ sponsors.”

“Thank you.”

Dawn moved to wrap her in a warm, if slightly sheepish, embrace. Cynthia could not reciprocate as her arms were occupied, but the gratitude she felt was very real.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Dawn nodded, and watched the woman flew off eastward. Their investigation into the soil conditions of Mt. Coronet before arriving at Sendoff Spring revealed a rough timeline of the ambush. This matched Candice and her subordinates’ best estimate of around a month. She contemplated whether not accompanying Cynthia was a good idea, but the thought of being around Palmer’s lifeless body any longer wasn’t a captivating one. It’d be better if she focused on something more productive.

Like vengeance.

She took to the air, heading west. Her destination was close.

Veilstone wasn’t much different than she saw last week. On the way, Dawn placed a call to the city’s gym leader, only to be told that Maylene has yet to return. No matter, she thought, it saved her an explanation.

She landed in front of the massive Galactic Building. It has gotten taller every time she passed through this city, and soon will be qualified as a skyscraper. The automatic sliding door parted in front of her. The inside was as sterile as the welcome floor of any corporation. A woman approached, receptionist going by the name tag.

The receptionist took a courteous bow, then inquired with a warm voice.

“Welcome to the Galactic Building. How can I help?”

Dawn stared at her.

“You know who I’m here for.”

“Pardon me, miss. As it is Friday, appointments can only be made for the following week.”

The girl only narrowed her gaze.

“Tell him to stop hiding. We need to talk.”

The woman’s professional smile disappeared. She tapped her earpiece, whispering a few hasty comments. Presently, she nodded. Turning back to the visitor, she extended an arm towards the back of the hallway.

“Please follow me.”

Dawn’s hiking boots left a trail of dirt on the marble floor as a janitor scrambled to clean up after her. An elevator with nothing but a scanner for a console greeted her at the end of the path. The receptionist scanned her access card, and the doors flung open.

“Floor 19, miss, the penthouse suite.”

Typical, she thought.

A luxurious office front manned by an assistant was the first thing she saw stepping out of the lift. Yet another corporate greeting awaited her. Before the assistant could make any inquiries, however, the PDA on the desk spoke first.

“Let her in. Don’t ask anything.” A pause. “And turn off the cameras.”

Dawn walked past the massive steel doors leading to the inner chamber. Candice’s office was that of a town’s mayor, but its gaudiness didn’t come close to the abundance of luxurious waste that Dawn was seeing. She couldn’t even tell what most of the furniture were made of, she just knew they were expensive. Bookshelves, monitors, lounges, impossibly expensive-looking liquor, and other opulence assaulted her senses. In the middle of it all was an obsidian desk, at which sat an azure-haired man clad in the most fitting suit money can buy, with all expected accessories.

“Miss Dawn,” he extended a greeting.

“Saturn,” she looked around at the lavishness, “you’ve done well for yourself.”

“Of course,” he said, “no small part thanks to you. With what can I help you with today?”

“Cyrus has escaped,” Dawn said, “do you know anything about this?”

Saturn stiffened.

“I… wasn’t aware of this,” his words were shaky. “Are you sure?”

“I checked, Saturn,” she affirmed.

Saturn grabbed his phone. “I have a few calls to make.”

“Are you telling me you had no knowledge of this?”

“None whatsoever.” He frantically dialled numbers. “I don’t know why Master Cyrus came back, but I’ve nothing to do with it.”

“Do you know where he might be hiding? Potential safehouses, maybe?”

“The last safehouse in Eterna was dismantled when we pulled out our branch from that city. He shouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well, he’s been free for a while, and has left nothing but death in his wake.” Dawn approached him; her words filled with malice. “He’ll find you eventually, and when he finds out you’ve turned his criminal empire into an electronics company, I bet he’d have some choice words. So, you better think of something fast.”

Saturn pushed his chair away from her.

“There are still those loyal to his cause.” He sent a quick text. “Mars and Jupiter are still in prison. Master Cyrus must be there. I just gave you their location.”

Her death glare caused him to gulp, but Dawn soon left his office without another word. Sighing, Saturn scrambled back to his computer. The richest man in Sinnoh didn’t get where he was today by following in the footsteps of a failed idealist, and he wouldn’t start now.

Chapter Text

The small boat arrived at the Iron Island pier. As Dawn exit, she observed the endless blue sea that surrounded this comparatively pitiful mound of dirt.

The captain of the boat stepped out behind her. Eldritch adjusted his sailor hat, and soaked in the sea breeze onto his bronze skin.

“Thank the sea for another peaceful bout.” He beamed.

Dawn didn’t return his enthusiasm. She was no girl of the tides, having always preferred flights. These island off the northwest coast were too far for that, however, and only then would she ask upon the mercy of the fickle waves. A rocky boat was a horror for some, but Dawn found even the calm water menacing. There were too many mysteries beneath that surface, all of which she had very little interest in finding out.

“How’s the island these days?” She asked.

“Quiet, which is the way I like it.” Eldritch led her towards a flight of stairs. “Ever since they turned it into a prison, the tourists obviously dried out. I’m getting paid a lot for visitors transportation though, so I won’t complain.”

“Do you not think that’s dangerous?”

“Sure, there’re some risks, but I’d like to think I can handle myself.” He proudly slapped his own prominent bicep, the left one specifically. “I don’t handle any inmate carriage personally; they have bigger ships with guards for that. I just carry the people who visit.”

“Are there a lot?”

“Surprisingly.”

At the top of the stairs, where a small wooden cabin used to reside, was the most secure checkpoint in the entire region. The penal system of Sinnoh used to be much laxer until the Team Galactic incident four years ago. It resulted in the conversion of this isolated landmass into a proper prison, one which Dawn herself supported. They also ignored Cynthia’s protests against the erection of this zone, one of the things the Dawn had never agreed with, and elected to construct this towering maximum-security holding. It has been upgraded frequently with generous sponsorship from Galactic Electronics, whose CEO has a vested interest in keeping those inside locked up for a long time. Saturn has always been agreeable, Dawn noted. He even gave her special access to the facilities as a supervisor should she see fit, though that was a direct result of her influence on his involvement. A few very convincing words were all it took. She didn’t actually know where this prison was built until today, but she hadn’t need to.

The guards bowed to her as she swiped and verified her status. The steel gates opened inwards, revealing a mostly blank clearing that led to the inner halls. The ore mines that were abandoned here decades prior proved very helpful in building levels and layers of concrete. This entire facility has six levels, plenty to hold every dangerous criminal of Sinnoh and even neighbouring regions. As a service, it was rarely spoken of, but Dawn knew fully well how good of an investment it was. Worth every penny she didn’t pay.

The cells themselves were built with the old cave system as foundation. Eldritch excused himself to wait outside, while two guards flanked her as she walked. There weren’t a lot of rowdiness that often happened, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Most inmates didn’t pay her much mind. She had arrived just after lunch time, and the general population was winding down to prepare for afternoon work. As far as she could tell, most were either having a quick nap, or shuffling about in their dark grey uniform.

Her destination was the women’s wing. Its size was forty percent of the men’s, but held only half the number of prisoners. Despite this, it was actually built first, since two women were the catalyst for the construction of this entire complex.

Here was one of them.

Mars sat cross-legged on the bed; her long crimson hair hid the left part of her face. She looked up at the reinforced glass panel at the upper part of her cell door, and saw a face impossible to forget. It has been years, and Dawn has changed, but not enough.

“You.”

The woman arose from her slump, and approached. The door was very sturdy, however, and she posed little threat. Her face twisted as if preparing to snarl.

“I see this life suits you, Mars,” Dawn replied, her tone drenched in sarcasm.

“Don’t patronise me. You were the one that threw us in here.”

“Us?” An inquisitive reply. “Do you speak for Jupiter?”

“I do,” said the woman.

“Last I heard you were at each other’s throats. Things have changed, I see.”

“I still blame her for getting us caught the second time.” Mars hung her head. “But mistakes can be forgiven.”

Dawn didn’t like the calmness in those words.

“Where’s Jupiter’s cell?” she asked the two guards, who pointed at the opposite end of the hallway. She motioned one of them to stay, then went there with the other.

Jupiter, in contrast, kept her outrageously pink hair in a short bob. She sat staring out the window of her cell. Her room, being on the northernmost point, has one. Its structural integrity was not in doubt, however, and there wasn’t anywhere to go through even if she were to wriggle out somehow. This was an isolated island for a reason, and there was a wall of fence below.

“Dawn. It’s been years; for what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

“I want to make sure you’re not getting into any trouble,” said the girl.

Jupiter chuckled.

“Didn’t you build this entire facility to keep us here? Not literally, of course, you’d get your pretty little hands dirty.”

Dawn couldn’t make out why those words made her so angry.

“You’re speaking quite highly of yourself, for someone who’s going to be spending the next decade and a half in this cell.”

“Did I strike a nerve, princess?” Jupiter approached the glass panel of her door, eyes peering from left to right. “I see you’ve decided to come here alone this time. Where’s the rest of your little posse? Did they all leave because they couldn’t stand you?”

Dawn had nothing to say to that, but she was visibly fuming.

Jupiter, lips curled into a smug smile, sauntered to the back of her cell, right beneath her window, and leant against the back wall.

“So why are you here?” the woman asked. “Looking at you, you would’ve been happy with letting us rot here. What might have happened that would force this meeting?”

The girl calmed herself down. She understood she was being played.

“I’m here to offer you a deal.”

“Oh?” Jupiter’s eyebrows perked up. “What do you possibly want from me?”

“If either you or Mars could name any hidden safehouse or resource caches that team Galactic had in circulation four years ago, we’d reconsider the length of your verdicts.”

Jupiter could not hold in her laughter.

“I recall you being the one recommending the maximum sentence on me. Twenty years it was, and I haven’t even served a fourth of that. You’re a vindictive little girl. Do you think we’ll just take your word for it?”

“We can get this in writing,” Dawn affirmed.

“Tempting, I suppose.” Jupiter tapped her chin. “However, I’ll be declining your offer. I’m busy.”

“Busy?”

Before Dawn could make heads or tails of the declaration, she could feel the earth shake. Alarms blared across the facility, and Jupiter’s smile only became wider. The wall behind the woman cracked, and giant fingers burst forth, wrapping themselves around the her. She waved, as the giant hand carried her outside.

Realising it was too late, Dawn sprinted towards Mars’ cell, as the earthquake practically followed her to the opposite side of the women’s wing.

“Open this door. Don’t let her get away,” she screamed, as shouts of panic echoed across the general population. The guards accompanying her scrambled to get the door open, but it was too late. The wall of Mars’ cells couldn’t hold against the crushing grip of the giant. Dawn didn’t see the rest of it, but she knew what she was dealing with, from the rhythm of the earthquake alone. Regigigas was here.

The door finally opened, and Dawn sprinted towards the hole in the wall. Peering outwards, she saw a small speedboat docked at the far end of the fence. The titanic legendary pokemon waddled towards it, hands carrying the prisoners it just freed. Turning to her right, Dawn spotted another familiar nuisance. Heatran was positioned on top of the opposite wing, spreading flames across the site. All on-site personnel have been mobilised to contain the damage, but that left none for the chase.

Dawn jumped on her togekiss in pursuit, but as she approached the shoreline, the sea itself raged. The very sea flash froze into gigantic columns of ice spearing from beneath the waves, forcing Toto to dodge. She saw Heatran scuttled towards the water as well, before retreating to its pokeball behind the ice wall. She heard the sound of engine roaring, and by the time her togekiss manoeuvred to the other side of the barrier, the boat has already sped off. Dawn cursed at the wind, before heading back to help restore order.

Chapter Text

A blond-haired woman in a black funeral blouse sat down in seiza. The solemn air of occasion forced a tear out of her, but the red in her eyes showed she had cried plenty in private. She held in her hands a thin stack of paper, a eulogy for he who passed.

Near her, on a wooden seat, a monk was mumbling holy rites for the dead. He kneaded the prayer beads in his hand with grace. This is the sort of formalities he had done hundreds of times, but he took it seriously all the same.

At the back of the procession were two women. The clothes they donned were modest yet modern, a suit and dress between them. The woman on the left whispered.

“To be taken so young. They said it was you who found him. Is that true?”

Cynthia nodded in response.

“A very nasty business. We are still trying to find the bastard who did this.”

The two women’s attention shifted towards the main stage. A large, bronze casket dominated the view. It was an open one, where friends and family could see the resting face of the once admirable Tower Tycoon Palmer. Cynthia didn’t understand it, but being in the Distortion World has preserved his body, giving her a chance to return it in a venerable condition. She shifted her head to the left.

“Is Dawn coming?” she asked.

“She’s not well enough yet,” Johanna answered.

Cynthia could only sigh. It was important to pay respects to the dead, but who showed sympathy to the living?

Presently, it was the turn of the deceased’s family to have a word. The blonde from before stepped up to the podium, her hands shaking. Next to her was the boy who was their child, the reigning champion of Sinnoh, Barry. He held his mother’s hands as she spoke of her husband’s memories. Many people, in turn, went on stage to present their speeches as well.

As the funeral proceeded, people came and go in droves. This was by far the largest funeral procession in the recent memories of most. The high profile of Palmer, of his son, and the mysterious circumstances of his death drew in a crowd never before seen to Twinleaf Town. When it was their turn, Johanna and Cynthia walked by the coffin, placed their commemorative flower into it, lightly touched the monk’s talisman on both of the man’s shoulders, then moved on.

Hours passed, and the crowd dispersed, leaving only the locals present. Barry approached the two women near the gate.

“Miss Johanna,” he greeted his neighbour, “Miss Cynthia,” he greeted his senior. They both responded with a polite bow. “I didn’t see Dawn. Is she not home?”

“She isn’t well,” said Johanna.

“I see.” There was a distinct mix of disappointment and anger in the boy’s voice. “Excuse me. I must go help my mother.”

As much of a spectacle this funeral was, Cynthia was thankful for the family’s decision to bar any media people from entering the vicinity. This could’ve been a circus otherwise. That said, she had no doubts there would be reporters waiting outside. She wasn’t aware of who leaked the information that she was the one who recovered the body, but it had caused her no end of trouble. She wanted an answer more than almost anyone else, but sticking a camera in her face wasn’t going to help.

Cynthia put on her black hat, complete with a wide brim and a veil, to return to Johanna’s house. The host served hot tea, the type that came in a box, and promised uninterrupted relaxation.

“I thought your husband would at least be home for this,” commented Cynthia. “Dawn said he wasn’t around very much, but I’d imagine this would be an exception.”

Johanna smiled at her.

“I don’t have a husband,” she answered, “haven’t for a long time.”

Cynthia sat, stunned.

“How long are we talking?”

“Ten years, at least.” Johanna drank her tea without missing a beat.

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He just wasn’t the right one for me,” said Johanna, “we got together when I was a lot younger, and a lot more naïve. You know how it is, being in school, easily impressed by the accomplish of some older guy. Quite a bit older, in my case.”

“How much older?”

“Our age gap was almost ten years, believe it or not. There were days when I think back to how my parents didn’t say anything about me being in high school getting together with someone in his mid-twenties. Trust me when I say that Dawn will not be making the same mistake I did.”

Cynthia simply stopped moving. She became hyper sensitive of her surroundings. An air of hostility weighed on her. She didn’t want to seem guilty, but also wasn’t comfortable meeting Johanna’s eyes. Collecting herself, Cynthia leant back into the couch, bring the tea cup up to cover her face, then drank.

A long gulp, bitter.

The tension tore as the creaky stairs hailed the descent of the resident in question. Dawn was sluggish, her feet wobbling, and not receptive.

“Honey?” said Johanna.

Dawn, still in her pyjamas, opened the fridge and scrambled about. Johanna ran to her, arms over her shoulder.

“Are you hungry?”

Dawn looked up at her mother, then nodded sheepishly.

“I’ll make you something.”

Cynthia retreated from the scene. Stepping out to the dusk glow, she saw a silhouette in front of the house. Dressed in black, he stood, fist clenched.

“Barry?”

“I’m here to see Dawn.”

Cynthia crossed her arm.

“She’s not well. She’ll see you when she’s better.”

“They took my dad away just now.” Tact was out of the question. “Can’t she at least send a message? Anything? My dad treated her like his own daughter. Why is she such an ungrateful brat?”

Cynthia stopped herself from delivering a slap across the boy’s face. Instead, she approached him with deliberate steps.

“Did the League tell you of the circumstances regarding your father’s death?”

“They told me you found him, but you know nothing. You already talked to my mother. She said you confirmed that.”

“That’s true, but it isn’t the whole story.” Cynthia was now eye to eye with him. He has grown so much since the last time they talked all those years ago. He was almost her height now. “I found your father a week ago in Turnback Cave. However, I wasn’t the only one there. Dawn was there as well.”

“What?” Barry was incredulous.

“I returned his body to your family. Dawn, meanwhile, has been doing her own investigations. She has travelled across this continent, barely slept for days straight, to follow even the most extraneous leads. Yesterday she came home, collapsed on her own doorstep from exhaustion. Johanna had to nurse her back to health. Even now, she can barely function.” Cynthia could barely hold back the strain in her voice. “She’s the one person killing herself trying to solve your father’s murder. I suggest you leave her alone. She’ll see you when she’s ready.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy. Barry’s crestfallen expression was unmistakable. He couldn’t say anything.

“Go back to your mother, Barry. She’s the one who needs you the most right now.”

He complied.

Cynthia stood alone as the wind breezed past, watching the boy disappear from her view. Presently, she angled her gaze towards the horizon. The setting sun left a bloody aftermath, uncomfortable in its absoluteness. Unbeknownst to him, she still hadn’t told him the whole story.

She took to the air on a skarmory. This wasn’t hers, but she’s been borrowing it for a while now. The metal bird screeched in delight as it stretched its wings. The incoming night sky and air stream soothed her soul, but Cynthia could not quell her own biting guilt.

What was she doing the last seven days? While Dawn trotted the gravel, she had to sit and play politics with sponsors and officials. Palmer’s death shook the League to its core, but most were too busy dealing with the fallout to properly commit to a high-profile investigation. She had presented her case, even naming the prime suspect, yet there was very little interest in following them. She has since then been reassigned the temporary role of Guardian of Sendoff Spring, as if nothing had even happened. She spent her days and nights twiddling her thumbs waiting for a breakthrough she knew would never come, while Dawn threw herself into danger at every turn. Was this why she became the champion? No. The League will have to find its own lackey from now on. It’s high time she took matters into her own hands.

Cynthia steered her flyer towards the south. She had already exhausted what she could here, but perhaps the answer lay elsewhere. It was high time she returned this bird to its rightful owner.

She’ll be in Hoenn by tomorrow morning.

Chapter Text

Her phone buzzed.

Dawn rolled over in bed to peer at the window. It was already morning. Groaning, she grabbed the rumbling electronic, only to find an unread message.

Call me.

She obliged. She didn’t have to wait long.

“What is it, Lucas?” she asked “did you find anything?”

“Nothing in the papers, but I came across an interesting coincidence. It’s probably nothing though,” said Lucas, “but I still want to be thorough.”

“I’ll take anything at this point.”

“I found some old notes from Professor Rowan’s unreleased works that may match what you saw on the prison island.”

That’s the best lead she’s had so far.

“Send it to me,” Dawn exclaimed.

“Already did. Check your email in a bit. The attachments are large.”

Dawn sat up, gearing to get out of bed.

“Thanks Lucas.”

“Anytime.”

She arrived downstairs within minutes. Johanna was watching television, and her face beamed as she saw her daughter.

“You look much better,” said the woman, “are you going somewhere?”

“I won’t be back for a while, but I’d like breakfast, please.”

“Of course, dear.”

Those words were significantly less enthusiastic. Despite her mother’s initial encouragement all those years ago, Dawn did not fail to notice how much Johanna had come to regret those words. They’ve talked about it many times, but could never reach an amicable resolution. Dawn would go missing for weeks, maybe months, before returning and locking herself inside her room for months on end. It was just the kind of girl she was.

Presently, Johanna served a plate of rich banana pancake and a small bowl of yogurt. Thanking her mother, Dawn wasted no more time in devouring the food. She has gotten a lot less messy doing so than she was a kid, but the haste and vigour remained the same. This moment was peaceful.

“Dear,” Johanna began, “have you considered leaving this investigation up to the authorities? This isn’t really your job, you know?”

Dawn looked up, having just finished. She stared at her mother momentarily.

“Mom, it’s been ten days and I’ve not heard a peep on progress. How long am I supposed to wait?” she protested, “Mr. Palmer’s funeral is probably coming up soon. I’d like to at least have something to tell Barry and his mother.”

Johanna stayed silent for a moment, before placing her hands on the table.

“Dawn,” her words were deliberate, “the funeral happened two days ago.”

The girl looked flabbergasted.

“That can’t be. Did they not invite us?”

“No, dear, they did, but Cynthia and I, mostly I, decided to not inform you, with the state you were in. We thought that letting your recover was more important.”

Dawn almost slammed her fist on the table, before catching herself.

“Mom!” The displeasure in her voice was far from subtle. “How could you? That’s not your decision to make.”

“Yes it is,” her mother almost screamed.

Dawn was taken aback. She’s never heard her mother raising her voice before. Johanna was on the brink of tears, but pressed on.

“Do you have any idea how pitiful you looked when you finally decided to return? You looked like a corpse, and I was this close to calling an ambulance.” She took her daughter’s hands. “You’re my only daughter, Dawn. Everything decision I’ve ever made since I had you was in your interest. How do you think I feel when my daughter would show up bruised or hurt? I even heard you were hospitalised not all that long ago, but you never told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Honey, your health and well-being are my primary concern. You cannot expect me to do anything that would jeopardise that. Believe it or not, you’re still only 16 years old, and you’re living in my house. I know I can’t stop you, even if I were to kick up a fuss, but you must understand.”

Dawn sat in silent, burdened by conflict. Her gaze roamed, from the empty bowl, to her mother, to the creaking ceiling fan, and back to Johanna.

Presently, she stood up.

“I’m sorry, mom.” Dawn kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’m leaving. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Johanna had nothing else to say. As her daughter was about to close the door on the way out, she managed a weak reply.

“Be safe.”

Dawn locked the door behind her.

Across the way stood Palmer’s house. She saw light coming from the living room. Walking towards the door, she prepared to knock, but something caught her eye. She saw Barry sitting quietly on the couch, sullen but deep in thoughts. Dawn looked down, ashamed.

It was at this point that Lucas’ email finally arrived. Stepping back towards her own house, she skimmed through the scans of the relevant documents. It was a collection of poorly written notes and clippings of pictures. Overall, they pointed to the properties of the so-called ‘legendary titans’ and proof of their existence as more than just myths. This must be at least a decade old, Dawn thought, as the existence of Regigigas, the titans’ master, was confirmed six years ago. Looking at the low-resolution scans, she did notice what looked like gigantic ice walls surrounding a location called Island Cave. These reminded her of the similar phenomena she saw while trying, and failing, to stop Jupiter and Mars’ escape from the prison island.

Dawn placed a call, didn’t have to wait long for this one either.

“Lucas,” she began, “this looks correct. Do you have any more on this?”

“Not really. When Professor Rowan moved his lab, he took most of his recent research, especially the digital ones. The old paper notes are all I have.”

“Do you have any way to contact Rowan, then?”

Lucas paused, as if offended at how Dawn decided to refer to his former superior without his title. He got over it eventually.

“No. When he moved to Hoenn a few years ago he cut ties with all former aides and assistants as far as I know.” A pause. “Or maybe not.”

“What is it?”

“There was this girl, Roseanne. I don’t know if you remember her: green hair, glasses, always carrying around a Dunsparce?”

Dawn thought it over.

“I think I do recall someone vaguely like that.”

“She and I didn’t talk much, but I remember not seeing her during the meetup party of all the assistants after the move. Everybody at that party was in the same position as mine. It’s an outside chance, but the only thing I have right now.”

“You have her number then?”

“No, just an old address on file. If she moved, maybe try asking around.”

“Thanks.”

The text came moments later. Some searching revealed the address to be an inconspicuous house on the southern outskirts of Jubilife city, close to the old lab. It shouldn’t take much more than half an hour to get there. She stashed away her phone. In the meantime, there was something else she needed to do. She knocked on her neighbour’s door.

Presently, a blond boy answered.

It has been a long time since the two conversed. Barry has easily outgrown her in height since then, but he looked very different from that brimming smile he displayed on tv a few months ago. His eyes were red and sunken, and his expression remained muted. Their eyes met.

“Dawn,” he spoke.

“Barry,” she wasn’t sure how to follow that, “how’s your mom?”

“She’s going through it right now.” Barry practically collapsed on the door step. “Can’t say I’m doing much better.”

Dawn sat down next to him. She took his hand in hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s not your fault.” He sighed. “You’re doing more than most of us.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Where are you going now?” Dawn was surprised by the question. “I can see written all over your face. You have something you want to do, and I bet it isn’t staying here with me. You’re thinking of doing something more productive.”

“A new lead has come up. It’s thin, but that’s the best I have right now.”

Barry stared at her, wrapped his arms around hers, and rested his chin on the girl’s shoulders.

“I know things haven’t been good between us the last year and a half, but I don’t want that.”

Dawn hugged him back, then kissed him on the cheek.

“Yeah.”

Barry felt like smiling. He didn’t, but it was the closest he’s had to that urge in weeks.

“I won’t keep you.”

The boy waved goodbye as Dawn’s togekiss took her to the air. He watched her become smaller as her form merged with the azure skies. Truth was, he had been meaning to make up with her since his appearance on television. His dad was adamant about it, but Barry put it off as long as he could. He didn’t expect the lesson to be so costly. The town shivered as the door shut, as Barry walked back to his mother.

Chapter Text

A deserted abode was all she saw as her feet landed on the outskirts of Jubilife. The house was modest enough, boasting two stories and an oversized triangular roof. She could tell it was abandoned due to the rust stains on the window, and the moss covering the front yard. Despite this, it must have been not that long ago that there had been people living in it, for the general state of the brick and mortar looked sound and the vegetation has yet to overgrow the building itself.

No need to knock.

Pushing the flailing door out of the way, Dawn was caught off guard by the sheer number of appliances and pieces of furniture still present. A tea table, its sitting mats, a rectangular television against the backwall, cups, plates and many more would have been enough for a vagrant to house here for a while. Dawn checked upstairs and found a single desk in front of a mattress. There were a multitude of books on the nearby shelf, and the desk itself had a space that would’ve fit a typical laptop. This was not quite a home, however, as no identifying knickknacks could be seen. No faces, at all. The place was cold, and it wasn’t just the draft circling in.

Try as she might, Dawn could not find any proof that this house belonged to whom she sought. The brighter colour of the furniture could point towards a more feminine persuasion, but that was a loose link at best. Lucas wasn’t able to find much on Roseanne either, stating that the female assistant elected to be aloof when they were still working together, and would oft opt out of social gatherings and preferred to stay late instead. Knowing Lucas, this woman must have been putting some inhuman hours, seeing as the rest of Rowan’s help didn’t usually leave work before the sun did.

Dawn reassessed the state of the dwelling. Whoever lived here must have left in a hurry, judging by the state of the appliances in the house. They didn’t take anything with them except for perhaps documents and a computer, that alone did make it quite suspicious.

She pulled out her phone and dialled. An excruciating minute passed before someone picked up on the other end.

“Hello?” answered a gruff, masculine voice.

“Looker, I need you to get me some information about a house’s owner,” she requested without offering any context as per usual.

A pause, but she did hear the sound of a rattling keyboard on the other end.

“Send me the address,” said the detective. It didn’t take long for him to confirm her suspicion. “The house has been abandoned for at least three years. The last owner was recorded to be a woman named Roseanne.” Bingo. “The authorities found out after no one was making payments after a year or so, so it’s possible she had left even earlier.”

That’s an interesting timeline, Dawn thought, that would mean that Roseanne could’ve left with Rowan after he retired his facility in Sandgem Town.

“Do you have any ideas of the owner’s whereabouts now?”

She heard Looker shuffling in his seat.

“I can’t just tell you that, Dawn. I can’t even access that information without proper clearance.” She could hear him scratch his overgrown beard. “What is this about?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” she asked, and met a sigh in response.

“No. My job is already on thin ice as it is. I’m doing things by the books now.”

If only he could see her disappointment.

The moment passed quickly, however. Closing her eyes, Dawn racked her brain for a thread.

“Do you remember the woman I asked you to investigate? The one you followed to Canalave City? Do you have reports of her appearance?”

She could almost hear the gears.

“Light green hair, bespectacled, about 140 to 150 cm tall.”

The moment came and went. Dawn didn’t hear a follow-up, only the furious tapping of keys.

“Is that a good enough reason?” she asked.

“I’ll put out a notice immediately. If she’s still here in Sinnoh somebody must have seen her.”

“What about the repercussions?” asked Dawn. “I remember you wanted out of the investigation because they might find you.”

“Things have changed,” those words slithered through gritted teeth, “I no longer have anything to lose.”

They allowed those words to settle.

“Can your search send out something to Hoenn as well?”

“Do you have any lead?”

“Just a hunch, nothing concrete. Do you still use that burner number?”

“No, but expect the occasional spam messages.”

“Got it.”

Dawn felt renewed vigour as she stashed her phone away. The APB Cynthia requested on Cyrus, Mars, and Jupiter would have very little chance of returning anything positive, but perhaps this one would. It was an extraneous lead at best before, but with Looker’s confirmation that can tie Roseanne to one of the scenes, Dawn was confident she was onto something.

What is it, though?

Was she to believe that the woman was acting under the command of Rowan, of all people, and they are collaborating with Cyrus’ group somehow? Those were serious accusations, and despite Dawn’s lack of fond memories of the old professor after their first encounter she wasn’t willing to just drop something like that on him just yet. She’d give him a chance to explain himself.

She received no reply from his public number nor his private. A quick check with Lucas confirmed that he wasn’t aware of another one, nor could he reach the man. She twirled her phone on her fingertip, unaware of how to proceed. An unexpected incoming call almost made her jump, however. An unknown number, rare occurrence.

“Who is it?”

“Is this Miss Dawn?” On the other end of the line was a boy whose voice was being ravaged by the tides of puberty. “I’m looking for miss Dawn.”

“How did you get this number?” she asked, curious.

“My dad gave it to me. He’s the sailor, Eldritch?”

It clicked.

“Oh, you’re his son. I remember you. He never told me your name.”

“It’s Vijay.” A humorous reality. “I’m asking you for help, miss Dawn.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m only a year older than you.” Despite her words, she enjoyed her new status. “What do you need?”

“Mom told me about how you helped me with a mysterious illness years ago.” She could tell he was trying hard not to fumble his words. “There’s been some cases like that cropping up around the city recently, and I’m wondering if you can help somehow.”

An unexpected clue.

“How long has this been going on?” Dawn asked, her voice urgent.

“About a week, give or take. It’s hard to say, since at first a lot of the parents just thought their kids were having trouble sleeping.”

“And you can confirm the symptoms? Nightmares, tiredness, thrashing in their sleep?”

“Yes, all of that.” Vijay’s voice has become much more eager. “Dad said that letting this go on any longer could result in them being unable to wake up entirely. Can you help?”

“Maybe, but that’s something I need to be onsite for. I’ll get there as soon as I can, half a day or so.”

“Thanks so much, you’re a life saver.”

That did feel good to hear.

“Honestly, I’d expect one of your parents to call me, not that I mind.”

She received a boyish giggle in reply.

“Dad’s not home, and mom said I need to talk to more girls my own age.” It was Dawn’s turn to smile at the impending silence, which was broken minutes later. “I’m sorry. Is that bad to say?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Another long-distance trip so soon was not in her plans, but at this point what hasn’t she taken on. The reports of nightmares intrigued her greatly. She was aware of what had caused it the last time around, but that should’ve been handled already. Why is the disturbance coming back now?

The air current splashed on her face as she massaged the bridge of her nose. People have always told her flying too much too often was not a good idea. The air pressure, the constant need to control her togekiss’ speed so it doesn’t just rupture her eardrums, and having to hold on for dear life to achieve any meaningful speed all contributed to the general aversion. Most people still travelled by roads, after all.

These thoughts crossed her mind as she dodged yet another flock of starlies. Canalave City was hours away still, but she was already feeling the next cold wave. She shook her head and focused. It was going to be a long flight.

Chapter Text

The salty sea breeze assaulted her olfactory functions. It was one thing to hover above the ocean and ride the air current; it was another to descent onto on a massive port.

The difference was the smell of fish.

Dawn began breathing through her mouth for a moment, rubbing between her upper lip and nostrils, then made a face. It wasn’t just the pile of magikarps out the harbour, however. There was an evil smell, but she couldn’t specify it any further than that. Opting not to contact Vijay just yet, she surveyed the area. She was by no means a Canalve City regular, but it wasn’t hard to pick up the obscene amount of fishing boats and their liberally used horns. With winter coming, late autumn fishing must have been booming. Sailors and fishermen flooded the streets, and Dawn cursed her modest height. She has never considered herself tall, but not often did she feel this small.

A definite new sight, however, was the busting Harbour Inn on the northeast end of town. Four years sure was a long time. It was so crowded at this early evening hour that there was a modest sized line at the front, and Dawn found herself rudely slipping through. Expectedly, there was an attendant at the door.

“Sorry miss, you have to go to back of the line.” He took another look at her. “Actually, this establishment is off limits to minors. May I suggest other local restaurants instead?”

“Is Byron here?” Dawn, in her usual courteous tone, demanded.
The attendant squinted.

“What business do you have with him?”

Dawn put forth an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s not league season. Where else would he be? My name is Dawn, be sure to mention it.mm”

“I’ll go check.”

Dawn hadn’t the slightest idea of whether Byron was actually here, but it didn’t hurt to bluff. She could feel the men staring daggers at her back for holding up the line, but if she couldn’t get a beer at least she’d get this.

Presently, the attendant returned. There was a visible mix of confusion and resignation on his face.

“He’s in the back row, won’t be too hard to spot.”

Dawn caught plenty of glances going in. Not only was she obviously underaged, her quick and precise saunter didn’t match with that of someone about to have a good time. As guided, she found the man with the hair that could only be described as a very sentient lavender bush. He did not have his usual gym leader attire on, if a cape and a shovel could be called that. The sleeveless tank top was very much present, however, and it made him look like the miner he used to be. He wasn’t alone either, having surrounded himself with a table of six other middle-aged men. They didn’t have uniforms, but the thin layer of dirt coating their attire and skin answered the question.

Byron called out to her; his voice rapturous. “Dawn, join us.” He slapped the seat next to him, causing the man there to move to the opposite one.

Dawn obliged. She sat down to see the man’s bowls and chopsticks was still in front of her, but he didn’t seem to have any intention to use them.

“Can we discuss this somewhere more private?” she asked, “I just need a bit of your time.”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” Byron delivered a friendly slap to her back that nearly knocked the life out of her. “Anything you want to talk to me about you can speak to the lads here.”

The men made a scene and raised their beer growlers in unison. Dawn thought they were about to break into a song before Byron motioned them to turn it down. It was still a solid half minute before the rabblerousing faded into the background. The men turned to her; their eyes expectant. She managed a groan.

“I heard there were children falling into nightmares and can’t wake up?”

The men’s expression darkened.

“Yes, something to that effect.” Byron paused, then took a huge swig of beer. “We heard the news this morning. A few hours of fruitless effort later we decided to let sailor Eldritch’s do the contact, as the man was the most recent to meet you.”

“Isn’t he not in town?”

“No, but his son volunteered.” Dawn raised an eyebrow at this discrepancy. “Given the circumstances and history, we left it up to him. Since you’re here now, I assume he did a pretty swell job.”

Another comradery slap landed on her back, but Dawn was prepared for it this time. Her form was only shaking forward mildly, but she knew it’d be sore later.

“So how many children are affected?” she asked.

“Almost a dozen, I think. All around 10 years of age.”

“Do they live close to each other?”

Byron took a moment to think.

“They’re all somewhat close to the harbour.”

Dawn mused over this fact.

“Did Eldritch tell you what I did the last time?”

“He said you went to some sort of obscure island to retrieve an artifact from a legendary pokemon, but that pokemon has been gone since then.”

Dawn looked around her.

“What about this inn?”

Byron scratched his head.

“Now that you mention it, a few days after Eldritch’s boy came to, the mayor got a key with some sort of card in its chain. That turned out to be the inn’s key and so a few of us banded together to get this place going again. Beats me where that came from though.”

That’s a secret I’ll keep to myself, Dawn thought.

“I didn’t know you own this place,” she commented.

“Me and the boys here.” Another round of laughter as the girl swallowed her comment about the purity of grammar. The commotion died down eventually, as Byron resumed. “Tell me you know how to help the kids.”

“Maybe. I’m going to need a sailor.”

“That’s one thing we don’t lack around here, apart from the fish.” Dawn nodded in bemused acknowledgement. “I assume you want to head out to one of those islands.”

“That’ll be the first step. If Eldritch isn’t here though, who else knows where they are?”

“His son does; I’m sure. He could take you. The boy got his boating license recently.”

An unexpected stroke of luck, Dawn conceded. She excused herself swiftly from the table before the owners could become even rowdier, and that was after refusing to drink numerous times.

As the sun slid unto dusk, she knocked on the door of that old cottage. A middle-aged woman opened the door, and Dawn recognised her immediately. A few more lines on her face sure, but this was undoubtedly Eldritch’s wife. The woman stepped back, then let her voice echoed into her home. As she retreated from view, a boy came to replace her.

“Hey.”

Vijay was a growing boy of sixteen. He was near a year younger than Dawn and Barry but has easily outgrown them both. As Dawn looked up to meet his eyes, it was difficult not to glance over his sharp features and surprisingly defined musculature. His chestnut eyes seemed to follow hers.

“Good evening, miss Dawn,” he greeted.

“I told you not to call me miss,” she replied, a relaxed grin on her face

“Have you had dinner?” Vijay thew his head back after seeing her head shake in response. “Hey mom, is it ok if miss Dawn join us for dinner.”

“Of course, dear.”

Smiling, he stepped aside to invite her in.

Sitting at the table with them, it was staggering to compare the mother and son. Vijay’s bronze, sun-touched skin was far from his mom’s paler complexion, but they had the same curved toothy smile. It made her feel welcomed. Seafood was never her favourite, but it was also the only meat she allowed herself to eat. Maybe one day she’d let go of that too.

“Dad told me all about your adventures, what he knew of it, anyway.” The topic of Vijay’s father was a frequent reoccurrence. “Not even just what you did for Canalave, but also your time at Spear Pillar, and how you managed to round up all the elements of team Plasma as well.”

Dawn didn’t think she’d get a recap of her earlier years here. Not a lot of people even acknowledged what she’s accomplished outside of this city, but ever since stepping foot on this port, she felt like a celebrity. Not big enough to get recognised on the streets perhaps, but she’d take what she got.

“I think it’s time we go,” said Vijay about half an hour after the meal finished, “the ports should’ve mostly cleared out for the night by now. It’ll be easier to navigate without the traffic.”

“Is this why you wanted to delay until nightfall?”

He smiled, and went to get his equipment.

“Partially, but also I wanted this dinner with you.”

Meeting Dawn’s flabbergasted gaze, he threw on his hat in embarrassment and bolted out the door.

Chapter Text

The metal bird screeched in joy and carefully nuzzled the side of its sharp beak into its owner’s side. Steven Stone gently petted around the crest on its head, the other hand trying not to let it mess up his tie.

“It misses you,” said Cynthia.

“Wouldn’t blame it. I miss it too.” His smile seemed genuine. “It’s been months. I trust it’s served you well.”

“More than I could ask for. I figured since I’m coming to Hoenn, I might as well return it to you.”

“I recall you borrowing it for aerial survey. I assume that’s finished?”

“Priorities changed since then.”

Cynthia pulled back the visitor chair and sat down. Steven’s villa was as luxurious as ever. Aside from his impossibly upperclass hobby of collecting gemstones, the rest of the furniture in this dwelling proved to be their match. Carved wood desks, coil seated sofa, and crystalline chandeliers were but modest accents to what was a mere corner office. There wasn’t anything to criticise from an aesthetics standpoint, but gaudy it was. Presently, Steven put his skarmory back to its pokeball, and produced a bottle of finest aged wine from the cabinet. He poured out two glasses, and served one to his guest. Sitting down, he took the first sip.

“So, what are you here for?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the news of Palmer’s passing.”

Steven mused for a moment.

“It did pass my desk. Tragedy, undoubtedly, but I can’t say I ever knew the man.” Steven took another sip. “The press release didn’t specify it, but rumours are it was no accident. Is this true?”

“It was foul play, yes.” Cynthia twirled the glass of wine in her hand, watching the liquid slosh. She didn’t drink, however. “Leads are thinning out as we speak.”

“You’re here to pursue one then?”

“Vaguely.” Cynthia pulled a photograph out of her breast pocket, and placed it on the table. She spoke, as Steven picked it up, “I’m sure you know who this is.”

“Yes, Professor Rowan. Is he involved somehow?”

“There are certain phenomena that I recognised from the time I worked under his wing. I’m not accusing the man of anything, but even if he wasn’t involved his expertise would be very helpful.”

“The fact that you’re here in my humble abode,” Cynthia held in a scoff, “means you couldn’t get a hold of him, then?”

“He moved to Hoenn some time ago, but nobody I know was actually aware of a destination. There’s no public contact information, and even the private ones he used to hold no longer answer.”
“And you’d hope I can turn up something.” Cynthia shrugged at the assertion. Steven continued, “I’m surely not aware of it on a personal level, but someone of that high a profile must have left some immigration records. I can tell you at least where he landed and his temporary lodgings at the time, but unlikely any more than that.”

“That can’t be all.”

“It is as far as I’m willing to go for a friend. You can’t have the authorities out there chasing ghosts.” He set his glass down. “Anything more than that is a matter of quid pro quo.”

 Cynthia dug her nails into her temple.

“What do you want?”

“A favour.”

Her eyes squinted in suspicion.

“That’s it?”

“Unlike most, I’m well aware of how much a favour from you is worth. I’m not in want of much else.”

She eyed the marble columns around her.

“I can see that.” A moment of deliberation. “That’s fine. Get me everything you can.”

“My pleasure.” A mischievous smile, followed by a quick glance at the watch. “Dinner should be ready soon. Would you allow me the honour?”

Cynthia would not remark on how common it is for him to schedule her visits around supper.

“No thanks. Maybe next time.”

“That’s what you always say.”

Cynthia didn’t respond. She stood up, then turned to wave.

The temperate humid climate was oddly still tonight, despite Mossdeep’s vicinity to the ocean. She still remembered when Steven’s house was just a cottage, but ever since becoming the president of Devon Corporation it has been upgraded to match. He said it was a business decision, a front, but she could tell he enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit. This had the consequence of making this behemoth of a mansion the first thing visitors see travelling to this island, even more eye-catching than the Space Centre. This also applied to flight, as she had just witnessed first-hand an hour prior.

Melancholy washed over her.

Cynthia settled at a secluded spot on the beach at the back of the hostel, which she chose specifically for its vicinity to the ocean, and began to undress down to her underwear before releasing her milotic. She placed her clothes inside a waterproof pack, and gently tied it around the sea serpent’s neck. The icy water awaited.

As she swam against the evening tides, the salty water began to overwhelm her senses. She made no attempt to stop, however, as stroke after stroke her form clashed against the waves. There were points when she could feel her garments loosening, but they never gave out. Single-minded in both the good and the bad, she pressed on.

It took a solid half hour for her energy to give, as her speed began to slow down significantly. The milotic, who had been shadowing its mistress all this time, slithered under her and lifted her up onto its back. It curled into a ring, letting Cynthia rest on top. The waves around her came to a standstill, as she has achieved external peace. Yet, she was being crushed by internal turmoil. The adrenaline running in her blood kept her warm after the initial shock, but as the wind grazed her skin, she was fully aware that by the time she would make it back to her hostel room, she’d be cold.

And alone.

Coughing up sea water, she stared at the moon. Her vision blurred, but she could almost make out something.

Presently, her phone rang. Her fingers lethargically unzipped the watertight bag and pulled out the buzzing distraction. It was a familiar number. Upon pick up, she didn’t hear any voice at first, only the splashing of water and roaring of a boat engine.

“Hello?”

“Cynthia.” An awkward pause. “Sorry for calling you so late.”

“It’s no trouble. It sounds like you’re heading somewhere.”

“Something came up in Canalave that I had to take care of. An emergency. We’re heading to Fullmoon Island now.”

“We?”

“He’s driving the boat, but this is the sailor who owes me a big favour way back when. He’s the one who informed me. I’m not sure if I ever told you about him.”

Cynthia realised she was gritting her teeth.

“He sounds like a nice boy,” she muttered.

“He’s very helpful.” Another pause. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Hoenn, figured I had a lead, though that’s a waiting game right now.” The blonde woman took in the scenery. Her left hand softly skirted across the surface of the sea. “I’m also on the water.”

“Can you see the moon?”

She turned upwards, only to realise she was drenched in moonlight.

“Yes.”

“So can I,” said Dawn. “When I saw it, I thought of you.”

Cynthia could not contain a thoughtless smile.

“Me too.” Neither of them said another word for a time, holding on to the moment.

Eventually, Cynthia heard the engine of the fishing boat dying down.

“We’re almost here,” it was easy to tell the rush in Dawn’s voice, “I have to go.”

“Be careful.”

Cynthia shut off her phone and tossed in back in the bag. She caressed her milotic’s scales, causing the pokemon to lean into the touch. Its eyebrow antennae curled softly downward as her gentle touch stroked its face.

“Time to head back, girl.”

The sandy beach awaited the woman’s return. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t see any other swimmers out here to test their luck so close to the dead of night, which was forecasted to get much worse in the coming days. She had barely seen anyone staying at the hostel at all, so she elected to not put her clothes back on, instead walked in those same undergarments to her room. It was close to the beach exit, as she specifically asked for, and wasn’t a long walk.

Cynthia slotted in her key card, and the lights lit up one by one. She eyed the state of her accommodations. The bed and dresser were shabby at best, though the staff did manage to clean it since her acquiring the room. She grabbed a bath towel and dried herself off temporarily, before stepping into the shower to wash herself off proper. She didn’t turn the valve to warm, instead let the frigid water wash over her blonde hair and pale skin.

The woman stepped out onto the poorly lit bedroom. A fading moonlit beam slid through the cracks of the window. Cynthia shut off the lights and pulled away the curtains, allowing the orb of night to take over her view. The face behind that light became clear, and she no longer felt the cold.

Chapter Text

“What on earth happened here?”

Dawn didn’t answer, for the sight was too harrowing.

All around her, as far as the land stretched and her gaze spanned, there was only ruin. The once luscious flora of Fullmoon Island had been burnt to the ground. Trees of all sizes and ages crackled under the heavy wind, as charred branches collapsed to the ground. Embers yet lingered on the heap of scorched vegetation, but that was the closest thing to a sign of life before they stepped foot on this island. Dawn could see the singed bodies of wild pokemon beneath the ashes, as her body began to shake. She held her own arms and began to rub them, but the shaking wouldn’t stop. The smell of death lingered in the air, and slowly overwhelmed her senses.

A jacket was thrown over her.

“You need this more than I do,” said Vijay.

She clutched onto the sleeves instead. It didn’t help, and she was having trouble speaking. Panic overcame her, and her knees buckled. Vijay kneeled and held her by the shoulders. She was aware that he was trying to give her encouraging words, but she could no longer hear them. It took a full minute before she was able to get back on her feet, albeit barely, and hobbled back onto the boat’s aft deck. She curled onto the seat to weep.

 After what must have felt like hours, Dawn lifted her head. The sight of utter destruction was still there. She noticed Vijay watching her from the cockpit, mild fright and concern written all over his face. She took off his jacket and handed it back to him.

“Thanks,” she couldn’t be curter.

“Are you okay?”

She wiped the tears from her eyes with a sniffle. Those eyes were red as could be, but it was past her now. Without a word, Dawn walked toward the island once more. Vijay was hot on her heels.

“Hey,” his voice was thin, “are you sure you should be doing this? You didn’t look very good back there. Maybe we should head back.”

“I just needed time to process.”

In that moment, Vijay deemed her a terrifying woman.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“Whoever did this, they must have been trying to hide something big to justify going through such lengths.” A pause. “Or, to stop something.”

“Like what?”

“This island was the home of the legendary pokemon Cresselia. Its lunar feathers are said to be able to cure any nightmare. You can see how it ties into this.”

“You’re saying whoever’s responsible for the nightmares did this?”

“The nightmares, as you call them, are the direct product of the dark influence of another legendary pokemon, Darkrai, but this is usually incidental. It’s a defence mechanism, and its targeting is usually indiscriminate among those most vulnerable.”

“So… Darkrai is the one that’s actually threatened?”

“Likely. Ever since Cresselia departed from Fullmoon Island all those years ago, this place has grown a natural habitat to replace its presence. The same goes for Darkrai and Newmoon Island, which is why you’ve never encountered other instances of this nightmare phenomenon until recently. There’s been nothing but various normal pokemon on these islands for years.”

“Is that why dad periodically travel to them? Was he checking on them for you?”

“Yeah, every season change or so I’d ask Eldritch to check whether either of the legendary beings has returned but have not heard any news. I assume that’s how you know where the islands are.”

“Yeah, dad would take me with him occasionally.” Vijay scratched his head. “Do you think the same thing happened on Newmoon Island too?”

Dawn elected not to answer that. She walked over to the nearest tree, trying her best to avoid any scattered debris. The moment she touched the charred bark, its chunks crumbled to dust in her hand. Her fingers scratched what’s left of the tree’s trunk as they descended, collecting grime and char in the fingernails. It was the worst of her fears. Not only is the wildlife destroyed, even the island’s plant life is unlikely to recover from this.

“Is there even anything we can do?” Vijay asked.

Dawn shook her head. “Not anymore. We must get to Newmoon Island.”

She received no disagreement. She had come to expect none. She placed a quick text message to Byron on the way, although her choice of words may not properly convey the state of the desolation witnessed here. It was going to be a terrible surprise awaiting him, but there was no more time for sensibilities.

It was obvious enough to her that this was a premeditated calamity. She couldn’t tell the exact period as to when it happened, but the timing was too suspicious to be a coincidence. Whoever was responsible, what was their aim? There shouldn’t be any points of interest here on these islands anymore with Cresselia and Darkrai long gone.

She didn’t arrive at any conclusion on her way to Newmoon Island, but the scene she arrived at once she got there didn’t help her train of thought. The level of destruction and carnage were no less horrific, but there was a clear difference.

This was recent.

“Some of trees are still burning,” said Vijay, as he frantically fanned off the impending heat.

Flumes of smoke emitted from the scene confirmed Dawn’s suspicion. Her arm covered the lower half of the face, and her eyes squinted. In a moment, Pipi emerged from its pokeball.

With the power of the ocean at its side, the empoleon compelled a massive tidal wave to crash onto the burning land. Its cleansing power washed away most of the flames, and with any luck save some of the struggling biota. As the currents subside, the two teenagers were on land once again.

“Do you see anything?” Dawn asked.

“I can’t see much, but the smoke is blurring my eyes.”

Dawn scanned the horizon. It was as Vijay has said, she couldn’t see much of anything at all past all the smoke. Then, an obscure fact popped into her head.

“Do you have an explorer’s kit with you?” she asked with a hurried voice.

Vijay went into a momentary panic, before snapping his fingers in recognition.

“There’s one in the main cabin, left side. Dad always keep one on hand.”

Dawn ran for it, with her companion close behind. The bag was where he said it’d be, what the power of preparation did for an excursion was amazing. Dawn strapped it to her bag and began heading inland.

“You stay here and try to save any pokemon you can. Contact Byron as soon as possible and have him send somebody here too.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m heading to the underground path.”

Without waiting for an answer, she put on the mining helmet, turned on its piercing fog light, and ran further in.

Chapter Text

Dawn could almost feel her back breaking under the intense physical exertion.

She may not want to admit it, but she was no longer the young and spry adventurer of old. She was still steep in adolescent, but the years of wallowing had not done her physicality any good. The more this shovel dug into the burnt soil the more her entire body ached. For a split second she wondered if she should’ve asked for Vijay’s help. Not everything has to be done alone.

It was then that she hit the hollow earth.

She could scream in delight but held herself back. Perhaps it was better to not announce her presence. A few more strikes of the shovel were enough for her to spot the cave system beneath. Dawn squeezed through the hastily dug hole and landed on her feet, the height doing worse damage on her calves than she remembered, forcing her to take a moment to orient herself.

She has found herself walking the Underground once again. It has been years since she was down here, but the halls where she stood didn’t see a lot of footsteps either. Not a lot of people knew about this north-western area of the Underground, as it was the exclusive tunnel system between Newmoon and Fullmoon Islands. Once she figured out this fact, everything was obvious. She stared into the darkness.

It roared.

Her feet moved towards the sound with all its speed. She didn’t know what she’d do when she’d get there, just that she needed to arrive as soon as possible. She had little idea of the layout of this place, however, and years of apathy has stripped her of any sense of direction. The only thing leading the way was the torch on her phone, and an unwavering belief that’d she’s heading down the right path.

She wasn’t.

A system of tunnel was very good at dispersing sound. As the hollow echoes continuously drifted in and out of her headspace, Dawn cursed her lack of equipment. Those whose job was to explore the Underground has developed a comprehensive map system that relied on community input as the backbone. Here, however, she was on her own.

She released Azelf from its pokeball. Kneeling to match its tiny stature, she petted its head.

“Can you help me locate the source of this noise?”

Azelf nodded and closed its eyes. Its split tails waved in the dead air like prongs. Dawn couldn’t see anything, but she felt an odd motion in the air. Her eyes were glued on the gem on Azelf’s forehead as its crimson aura gently pulsed.

Presently, Azelf opened its eyes once more, and began flying towards a certain direction. The compass on Dawn’s phone told her this was east, but the path didn’t stay straight for long. Her torch revealed an upcoming dead end just as Azelf made a sharp turn to the left. She could not see any further than a few meters in front, but the noise becoming louder was all she needed to know.

Another turn.

It was then that she saw the one thing she was hoping for: another light source.

It was not a torch, electronic or otherwise, but rather something far more primal. It was fire, and an immense amount of it.

A swoosh cut through the air, and a momentary flash signalled a pokeball hitting the ground. Dawn stood still, as a man emerged from the darkness and picked it up. She recognised him immediately. His spiky, cobalt hair reflected the light coming from her mobile device, and his rugged, sharp features was entirely concentrated on her. Next to him was a houndoom, flames still leaking from its mouth. The black dog glared at her with intense aggression, only awaiting its master’s orders to decimate whatever dared to stand before it.

“Cyrus,” Dawn spoke through gritted teeth.

“I suppose I should’ve seen you coming.” Cyrus fixed the collar of his old silver Team Galactic jacket. His voice was even more hoarse than she remembered. “Even so many years later, I can always count on you to show up to ruin the fun.”

“You’re responsible for the destruction of these islands. So many dead. This biome may never recover.”

“Such details are minor.” The man cracked his knuckles. “I cannot afford to be skittish about matters like that.”

“Was it just meaningless destruction to you then?”

“Meaningless? Hardly.” Cyrus’ smirk sent a chill down her spine. He roughly fondled the pokeball he just picked up and rotated it in his hand. “You of all people should know I don’t settle for frivolity.”

“Is that Darkrai, then?” She pointed at his hand. “You set fire to two different islands just to trap it here so that you can corner it.”

“You catch on quick.” Despite his demeanour, the unevenness of his voice showed he was rattled.

“But how did you know it was hiding in the Underground? It should’ve left the island years ago.”

“You are in no position to demand answers, little girl. Though you might have grown, you’re still no more than a mere child.” He slid the pokeball into his belt. “Were I a more vindictive man, I’ll grind you to dust right now. However, I’m giving you this chance to retreat. You are allowed to leave so that you may spread the word.”

Cyrus flashed Dawn a hint of a smile, somehow more ominous and terrifying than she could ever imagine.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dawn declared, releasing Pipi from her pokeball. “I’m bringing you in right now.”

Cyrus’ smile cracked. He took a step back, his hands resting on the top of his houndoom’s head. The dog began to yelp as his nails dug into the scalp. “As much as putting you into the dirt would go a long way in satisfying my vengeance, we’ll have to settle the score some other time.”

Dawn did not reply. Her empoleon stepped up, and spew forth a tidal wave from its mouth at the opponent. Cyrus was unfazed, as a gigantic sea serpent emerged from behind him. The torrent crashed into the side of his gyarados, who shrugged it off with little difficulty. Its eyes flared up and charged at Dawn with its massive fangs. Pipi stepped in between, brandishing its massive steel wings to absorb the attack. Recoiling, the gyarados began to retreat. Pipi retaliated by sending a column of ice after it. It caught the serpent in the tail, causing it to stop dead in its tracks.

Presently, the gyarados turned around. Its body contorted, and its tail slammed into the ground causing an earthquake pulsing towards Dawn’s general direction. The entire maze shook as Pipi was knocked back. Dawn had to recall it due to heavy damage. When she looked up, she realised the immediate threat was no longer there. Cyrus had taken advantage of the commotion to disappear. Cursing the wind, Dawn released her togekiss in a desperate attempt to chase after him, but reality struck eventually. There were no more noises, and she has lost the ghost to this darkness.

Chapter Text

Dawn emerged from an unmarked hole. It took an inordinate amount of time for her to find an exit, and she couldn’t tell which island she was going to turn up on. Limbs sprawling on the ground, the burning sensation in her throat became more painful with every breath she greedily sucked in. Faint light washed over her, signalling the eventual arrival of sunlight. She lay still, emotions brewing.

Her hands slammed the ground.

Standing up, Dawn brushed the dirt and grime off her clothes to very little effect. The scenery around her was expectedly devastating, but the fires have calmed. If this was Fullmoon Island she’d expect Byron or his men to have gotten here by now, and so she deemed it Newmoon. An hour of struggling in the underground maze has destroyed her sense of directions, but she was relatively unharmed. The same couldn’t be said for the local wildlife. Less than two steps beside her, a combee, its wings singed off, lay lifeless. If it was here, who knew what happened to the rest of its hive. She did not need to fight the urge to cry, however, as she’s done enough of that. Only the solemn reality of the devastation lingered in her mind as she carried forward: with all plant life in ashes, nothing will ever settle here again.

“Dawn.”
Vijay’s prepubescent voice caught her attention. He ran towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders with great care. She only managed an unenthusiastic wave in response.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

She contemplated explaining but could not.

“Have you contacted the city about this island too?” she asked.

“Yes. They said they were going to get here as soon as possible, but it’ll take a little longer to wake people up at this hour. We don’t have an emergency response team or anything.” He turned his head to look at the horizon. “Although they should be here soon. It’s almost morning.”

“How many did you evacuate?” she asked.

Vijay’s expression soured.

“Not many.” He shook his head. “It was very hard to get them to leave their family behind, or what’s left. The boat can’t exactly hold them either. I led whichever I could find towards the shore to await rescue, then went to look for you,”

Dawn was disappointed, but certainly not at him. What more could he have done? What more could anyone?

Presently, she stood motionless, leaning by the aft deck of the fishing boat with her face in her hands. There were no more tears to force out even if she wanted to. Vijay was at the helm, flashing emergency lights to catch the attention of the incoming ships, a sullen look on his face.

Rage.

The emotion flashed across her mind. It was not how she felt, but rather what she thought of. Rage? Anger. Resentment. Fury. Hatred. It came naturally to her as a teenage girl and was something she felt many a time. It was not here this time. She only felt exhaustion. Her entire body ached. She wasn’t injured, but for how much longer could she afford to chase ghosts?

Byron’s men arrived not long after. Byron himself went to Fullmoon Island, but the entourage was a plenty. They mobilised an entire freighter, plenty of room to get whatever was left of the fauna onto safer grounds. Dawn admired the complete trust they had in each other as they moved about the beach. She didn’t remember exchanging another word with Vijay afterwards for he too was busy with the grunt work. Nobody thought of asking the little girl to chip in. She hitched a small ferry back to the mainland, and her only destination was the nearest motel.

Her face buried into the cold, ragged pillow, thoughts she didn’t have time to engage with began to encircle. Cyrus was back, and he got Darkrai. It looked to her like he still had his old team, however, so it wasn’t him who broke Mars and Jupiter out of prison. She wasn’t even sure his houndoom could set the islands ablaze like that. There was someone else within his cohorts, who might have even helped him escape the Distortion World. She could mobilise the police force against Cyrus, as she was able to capture a blurry picture of him during their encounter. If they could get him, the collaborator may surface.

Her phone rang.

“Dawn, I got news.”

Dawn rubbed her forehead. She was beginning to feel the lack of sleep. It has been some thirty or so hours since she last did.

“Looker?” She flipped herself upright on the bed. “Did you find out anything?”

“We found her.” Dawn could hear paper ruffling on the other end. “Roseanne was spotted getting off a ship west-bound originated from Canalave.”
Is this what constituted a red flag?

“Where is she right now?”

“She got off the boat in Mossdeep but took another ferry to Lilycove.”

“Do you have eyes on her?”

“You could say so.” Looker toned down his voice to a whisper. “I have eyes on her as we speak.”

Dawn sprang up on the bed.

“You’re in Hoenn?”

“You betcha.” A brief pause. “I’m not letting this lead get away.”

Dawn’s moment of excitement quickly petered away.

“Are you following a woman through the streets wearing your brown trench coat?”

“Of course.”

Dawn made a face no one else could see.

“You may want to ditch the coat.”

“Why?”

“It makes you stand out.”

“Of course. Good thinking.” Another ruffle. “She’s on the move. I’ll keep in touch.”

Dawn stared at her pitch-black phone screen.
Roseanne’s timing could not have been a coincidence. She had to be involved somehow, but how would one extract information out of her? Looker does have jurisdiction in Hoenn, but he would be the last person Dawn’d pick to handle an interrogation. There was no guarantee that he hasn’t already spooked his own mark, likely the reason he was caught the last time. This matter needed someone with more of a deft touch, and it wasn’t Dawn herself.

She unlocked her phone again.

The number she called didn’t pick up. She tried again to no avail. For the next fifteen minutes she tried, fingers tapping her knees at a rapid pace. That didn’t help. This was not too unfamiliar a feeling, for this number has ignored her calls many times in the past, but she thought things have moved past that. Then, the anxiety of staring at it for so long crept into her. What was wrong? It was ten in the morning at this point, surely the other party couldn’t be sleeping still. Did something go wrong on the other end? Was she just being ignored again?

Unable to bear it any longer, Dawn gathered what wit she had left and summarised the situation in as few words as she could. There were so many rewrites for what that should’ve been a simple text message, but she couldn’t help herself.

She flopped onto the bed as she pressed the send button. Arms outstretched; the ceiling was the only thing she could see. It blurred her vision.

She wondered how she must smell. The grime and dirt under her nails certainly didn’t go anywhere, except maybe onto her clothes. Her hair must be a mess, and the dried sweat beneath her jacket began to cake. Yet, with the bathroom in view, she could not conjure up the strength to wash it all away. The more she lay, the more lethargic her limbs became. Joints she didn’t even know existed began to ache, and so did her back. This pain, temporary in its duration, carried her mind adrift. What she was doing: the struggle, the chase, the determination; when will it end?

Did she even want it to end?

When, if, this was over, what was for her to do? People have careers and aspirations, what did she have? In times like this she didn’t consider herself a sixteen years-old girl, but she couldn’t run away from that truth. What do other sixteen years-old girls even do?

The commotion coming from outside the motel window drew her attention. The ships blared their horns as they docked. Through the grimy windowpane, Dawn saw the rescue boats returning. She watched the sailors unload the rescued wildlife, as the citizens of Canalave huddled into large crowds trying to get a sense of what has taken place over night. Someone would come to get her testimony eventually.

She sent Looker her picture of Cyrus along with a brief description. With any luck they’ll have an APB out before too long, but that’s reliant on Looker’s attentiveness. He was her only contact on the force, but if being his acquaintance throughout the years has taught her anything, it was to not rely too much on a man who stumbled upwards.

Chapter Text

As she stood idle just before the opening of cavernous depths, Cynthia checked her surroundings. The routes of Hoenn were mysterious to her, as like most tourists she tended to stick to the cityscapes. She did not mind blending in within a forest, but the humidity of this continent tended to dampen her mood, not to mention the sweat soaking her garments. The fur lined in her coat was far from appropriate for this climate.

She glanced at her phone to make sure this was the right location. At four in the morning, she received a text from Steven Stone. Mark was spotted by a hiker west of route 120, it said. As far as the compass on her phone and the wooden signs were concerned, this was it. If it was, this conspicuous cave was the only point of interest she could find, reachable past a flight of stairs coming from the southwest. The most striking part of the scenery, aside from the obvious, were the six stone pillars evenly positioned to surround the cavern. These boulders were too uniformed to have been a natural formation, but as far as Cynthia could tell after a cursory inspection they were as ingrained into the ground as the dirt itself.

Resolved to enter, she turned on the electric torch and headed into the depths. The locals called this cave the “Ancient Tomb”. Despite its peculiarity, it had never been a popular tourist attraction. The reason was simple: it was a very small cave, which could have been surmised from looking at it from the outside. She had expected some sort of tunnel leading downward, but the interior seemed just as uninteresting as its outward appearance would suggest. There were no signs of life, and no varying elevation levels anywhere in the cave. That alone could be unusual, she deemed, and opted to investigate further.

Cynthia stopped her torch at the back wall. There was an oddly smooth patch here. Running her fingers over it, she could find no natural explanation for its flatness in contrast to the surrounding texture. It must have been artificially sanded, and recently at that.

What was this meant to hide?

Cynthia summoned her lucario. She considered ordering it to blast through these rocky walls, but it was a fleeting thought. Preservation of this cultural site was important, and if there really was a secret hidden here somewhere, not broadcasting its existence was her intention.

Instead, she ordered her lucario to place its palm against the wall. It unleashed a psychic force that caused small ripples across the surface. Cynthia listened to it intently, and as she expected, a hollow response reverberated from the beyond. There was a way inward, that much was obvious.

Cynthia produced an oddly shaped rock, whose concaved contours formed a primal frown. As soon as she set it down, it emitted a ghostly purple fog. Twisting and writhing, the fog stretched and condensed until finally taking a spherical shape. The spiritomb blinked. Its eyes followed Cynthia as she walked to and fro, sizing her up. It has been years since she had requested its services.

“How are we feeling today?” she asked.

It frowned. She crossed her arms.

“Do not be difficult. I allowed you to roam free of any captivity. Do this one thing for me.”

Its frown flattened. She tapped the wall behind her.

“This is a door, or close enough. I need you to unearth it.”

The ghostly fog closed in on her, circling her. She stood firm, eyes following any sudden movements.

“How about after this is over, I’ll take you back to Kanto for a bit? It’s been a while since you’ve returned, yes?”

It paused for a moment, staring at her.

“I take that as an agreement.” She tapped the wall again. “Get to it.”

Right on cue, the purple fog dispersed into hundreds of smaller tendrils, enveloping the rocky cavern walls. They scanned for the small cracks, before inserting themselves.

Presently, Cynthia heard a shift. It was subtle, like a switch has been flipped nearby. Slowly, she could perceive a rectangular imprint on the wall moving inwards to form a pathway. It took a few minutes, but finally an opening large enough to squeeze through appeared. Cynthia took her chance to slither inside with great haste. Torch on, she headed toward the inner chamber.

There was nothing here.

Closer inspection of the ground at the dead middle of the cavity revealed very clear footprints on the ground. The earth has been dented by the sheer weight of something to have left such deep patterns. Creatures with this kind of mass weren’t common, and very few of them were even on land.

A change in the air disrupted her train of thought. It was slight, but the atmosphere was becoming denser. Turning to the pathway, she realised it was closing in. She sprinted towards the rapidly shutting gap but was unable to make it before the opening was already too small. The torch revealed a fading silhouette on the other side, turning away from her.

“Hey you!” she yelled. “Open this door.”

It was no use. Soon enough even the unexpected visitor has faded out of sight, as the entrance has resealed itself. She yelled for her spiritomb, whose keystone remained on the other side, but to no avail. It could no longer hear her, and she doubted anyone else could. The torch on her phone had plenty of battery, but breathable air wouldn’t last. Checking her phone again, Cynthia realised the insulation was so absolute that there was no signal getting in or out. The situation was plain: she was trapped.

The gloves were off. She summoned lucario again. She might have liked to preserve the sanctity of this site, but not when her life was on the line. The lucario unleashed a barrage of full-powered attacks into the door for an entire minute. As the smoke settled, she found it to not have accomplished a thing. These fists, which could bring down concrete pillars, appeared to have done no damage to the integrity of this cave. A moment of panic passed by, accompanied by a fleeting thought of what kind of monstrosity was confined here that would require this kind of imprisonment.

The anxiety returned soon enough. This seal is so tight it’ll inevitably choke her out of air. The chance for outside help was slim. The only person who knew she might be here was Steven, but they weren’t exactly in constant contact. It wouldn’t phase him to not receive anything from her for months on end, and she wasn’t likely to have more than an hour left. Trying her best to ignore the sharpness of her own breathing, Cynthia stood still. Momentarily, she heard no sound except for the pumping of her own heart. Her lucario has retreated into its pokeball by this point, and she had all the time in the world to think.

Her torchlight scanned the area with deliberation. She noticed that unlike the outer chamber, the walls here were rugged and uneven. Whatever was trapped here have made many attempts to escape yet remained unable too. To leave any dent at all was a staggering display of strength, considering what her best efforts just demonstrated. Eventually, someone must have let it out. Perhaps that someone was responsible for erasing the clues to access this prison.

That in mind, she turned the torchlight towards where the exit was. This chamber being entirely spherical would eliminate one’s perception of directions quickly. However, the compass function on her phone still worked. On the other end of this door, someone has sanded off the whatever message might have been present as to the secret to unlock this tomb. On this end of the exit, however, she could still see it.

It wasn’t anything she could immediately decipher, but it being braille was obvious. She didn’t know a lick of it, however. The panic that had yet to subside was on the verge of bursting. Dread filled her thoughts. Was she really going to die here because she didn’t know an alphabet?

A deep breath, of whatever air was left, filled her lungs.

Cynthia ran her fingers across the carved surface. There were 9 words, that much she could tell. It was a clumsy effort, but she just needed to feel the boundaries. There was a lot to guess. She took a quick picture on her phone for reference. It was time to decipher.

She knew ‘the’ was the most common word and hedged her bets on it. There were 3 three-letter words here, any of which could be it. If one of them was, it meant their last letter was ‘e’, the most common vowel. The 8^th word’s last character was the most frequent by far, appearing 5 times in the message. If this was the ‘e’, that meant the 1^st, 6^th, and 9^th all ended with it. The 9^th word was a six-letter one. She took notice of it because its 3^rd and 4^th characters were the same. Furthermore, its 5^th letter appeared earlier at the end of the 5^th word twice as well, making it overwhelmingly likely to be either ‘s’ or ‘l’.

Middle.

Cynthia ran towards the centre of the chamber, her torchlight desperately scouring for further clues. No matter how much she combed and scrubbed, nothing in the earth appeared out of the ordinary except for the prisoner’s footprints. When she redirected the light back towards the exit, however, she heard an audible rumbling.

Chapter Text

Dawn sat on the bench of the governor’s office, exhausted.

Bearing witness to the mass destruction of wildlife was harrowing enough without the incessant interrogation that came with reporting it. Byron was still in there, no doubt. She heard his voice in all its deafening yet sincere quality, but she didn’t have the mental capacity to follow what he was saying.

Presently, Vijay arrived, accompanied by his father. The two settled on the row of seats across from her.

“Dawn,” said Eldritch, “are you doing alright?”

She clearly wasn’t.

“I’m fine.” A pause. “How goes the rescue efforts?”

“It’s basically done. We have people scouring the islands for stragglers, but the bulk of what’s left should now be safe. Relocating them will be a real challenge, though,” the sailor answered.

“There is good news. All the kids who were having nightmare have woken up. Was that your doing?” asked Vijay.

Dawn admittedly have forgotten why she even came to Canalave in the first place. However, this development made sense. The nightmares inflicted on these children were caused by their vicinity to Darkrai and its fears. Now that it has been captured by Cyrus, who has presumably fled, the bad dreams should be gone with them.

She didn’t want to really take credit for doing half a job. “It’s only a temporary fix. I’ll have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Can we help?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t even know what the next step is yet.”

Vijay and his father shared a glance.

“You know, we’ll be happy to have you,” said Vijay, “mom said she’d be glad if you come around again. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Dawn nodded.

Shortly, Byron nearly pulled the office door off its handle exiting the office. He was puffing, no doubt. Seeing the people waiting in the hall, he motioned them backwards.

“Vijay, the governor’s waiting for you.”

The boy and his father entered. It was Byron’s turn to plant onto the seats.

“Bunch of damned loons.” Byron slapped the back of the plastic bench next to him.

“The relocation plan didn’t go down so well?” asked Dawn.

“The mayor wants these survivors moved much deeper in land, to a zoo or safari. They don’t understand that these creatures need sea air. They’ll be miserable in captivity!”

 An expert, he was.

“Do you think you can change his mind?”

“I’ll kick in the front door of this office every day for the next month if I had to.”

Effective messaging.

“It’s a way to keep busy,” said Dawn.

“S’pose.” Byron turned to her. “I hear from the mayor that you said Cyrus did this?”

“Yes. He’s on the run now, but there’s an international manhunt on him. Hopefully the authorities will take care of it from here.”

A long pause.

“Was he the one who killed Palmer too?” Byron asked. “When I went to the funeral there were rumours coming from the top brass.”

“It’s very likely that he did.”

Byron slammed his hand into the backseat, grumbling.

“Rat bastard.” Collecting himself, he looked forward. “Don’t worry Dawn, you’ve done everything you could. It’s up to us now to get the terrorist. You should get some rest.”

“Is the governor done with my testimony?” she asked.

“At least for the day.” He stole a peep out the window. “It’s getting late. Do you have somewhere to sleep?”

“I think Eldritch wants me to stay with his family for the night. I think I might take them up on that.”

“Solid.” Byron stood up. “I’m heading back to the city. I can drop you off if you’d like.”

Sitting in his dingy work truck that greeted every bump on the road like a freight train meeting a petulant parked car on the tracks, Dawn stared out the passenger seat window. She mused over the secret she still yet held. Cyrus couldn’t have overpowered Mr. Palmer and escaped the Distortion World on his own. He had help from a very powerful ally, but this was a conjecture on a strictly need-to-know basis. This line of thinking reminded her that she hasn’t checked her phone at all since summoned by the governor, and no notifications have reached her since turning on silent mode.

She saw a text message from a few hours ago.

Ran into some trouble. Sorry for not picking up your call. Thanks for the update. I’m on the move again. We’ll catch up soon. Love.

A brutalist messaging style employed by a person who truly meant every word. Ugly and crude, yet it was impossible to describe how happy Dawn felt receiving it. A combination of relief and giddiness carried her troubles away like the sea breeze. There were barely two dozen words here, but by the time her mind has finished overanalysing them, she noticed the vehicle has stopped.

“Here we are,” said Byron. “You’ve been here before, ye?”

Dawn nodded.

“I reckon that Eldritch and his boy won’t be back for another hour or so. Light’s on though, so the missus should be home. Give me a call if you need anything.”

As the rackety truck and the sound of its rackety wheels disappeared from her senses, Dawn departed the site without knocking. She found herself on the pier within half an hour.  It wasn’t easy to find some place without guardrails, but her tenacity proved fruitful. Her bare soles skirting the water’s surface, she absorbed the dimming light of sundown. The soft glow enveloped her skin.

What’s next?

Sitting around just wasn’t what she was willing to do, not when there were still people at risk. Someone may eventually find Cyrus and his unscrupulous collaborator, but would it be fast enough? It has been four years since he was imprisoned behind the portal in Sendoff Spring, and he could only have escaped recently. Whoever assisted him, why did they wait all this time? There must have been a plan. Cyrus provided little value to his old Team Galactic posse, most of which were behind bars themselves. Only someone with real interest in destabilising the entire region would employ the help of such a man. Regardless, Cyrus remained the only lead.

Only in name, of course.

Someone like that would have little problem slipping under the radar. It was by pure coincidence that she was the one called to Canalave in the first place. Furrowing her brows, Dawn sat and thought.

The night came with its chills. Putting her sneakers back on, she found herself staring at the moon yet again. It wasn’t like in the city. It wasn’t even like on the mountains. At sea, the moon possessed an endless majesty that stretched across the waters. The waves resonated with its silver glitter, sprinkled across the horizons.

That was not moonlight.

Dawn summoned Toto, hastily climbing on its back. She took to the air with great alacrity and chased after the trail in the sky. To her surprise, the pursuit was a brief one.

Cresselia was drenched in the night gleam. The three purple-hued crescents projecting from its body reflected the glow, exuding an immense aura of tranquillity. Its rosy eyes stared at hers with great intent. Unlike most flyers, it propelled itself through the air with powers alone, smoothly gliding into her vicinity.

“It’s been a long time. I was wondering where you were,” said Dawn. “You’re here for Darkrai, I assume.”

Cresselia did not refute.

“It was captured recently,” she continued, “I couldn’t intervene.”

Cresselia turned to look at the moon. On this cloudless night, they were one.

“Can you tell show me where Darkrai is?”

Cresselia jet off towards the northeast. Dawn flinched at its sudden movement, but Toto was already on its heels. She shook herself to attention and focused on keeping up. At the speed she was flying, wind resistance was doing a number on her sense of direction. Her togekiss wanted to slow down, but she urged it forward regardless. Squinting with one eye open, Dawn could barely keep up with the rapidly changing landscapes beneath.

After half an hour at this blistering speed, Cresselia came to an abrupt stop. Overshooting this was not an issue, as there were no obstacles this high up, but the momentum was enormous. Toto swerved and dipped, until they finally managed to stop as well. Her ears were ringing, her eyes were watering, but Dawn could not mistake where she had eventually ended up.

Before her stood the gigantic skyscraper sprouting off the elevated earth of Eterna City. Layers upon layers spiralling inward as its height yet seemed to increase every time she looked at it, this metallic demonstration of human excess almost reached the altitude at which she was flying. Impossibly dense and clad in an outer alloy hugging the concrete structure, this was once the Team Galactic headquarters. Since then, it has been converted into the head office of the Galactic Corporation, its commercial arms sprawling all over Sinnoh. From a bird’s eye’s view, the building took up the entire airspace as the lone, awesome marvel of engineering that it was.

Dawn looked back at Cresselia. There was no mistake. Darkrai was here. Cyrus was here.

Chapter Text

“They’re all gone?”

Steven was in disbelief.

“Not all of them,” said Wallace, “the super-ancients are still accounted for, at least.”

Steven’s lips parted at great speed, but he stopped himself from saying anything crass.

“The legendary titans and their master Regigigas are missing. So are Heatran, Dakrai, and 2 of the 3 lake guardians,” said Cynthia, “Wallace? Any status on the Eon duo?”

“They’re elusive at the best of times. Hopefully that means they’re just roaming as they oft did, rather than the alternative.”

Steven was red in the face.

“This cannot stand. What’d happen if whoever did this decides to wreak havoc with what he’s got in his hands?”

“That’s already happening,” said Cynthia, “there’s been reports of sightings and attacks on Mt. Coronet, Iron Island, the trio of lakes, and as recently as yesterday: the Newmoon and Fullmoon Islands.”

“Great.” Steven dropped into his chair. “Cynthia, tell me Sinnoh has a handle on this.”

“I wouldn’t be here still if they did. The only thing we’re currently aware of is Cyrus’ direct involvement. However, he’s unlikely to be the catalyst. Something like this must have been planned years in advance, and we’re under good authority that he had only recently escaped.”

“Who is it, then? What about that lead you were asking me about?” asked Steven.

“Professor Rowan is,” a deliberate pause, “high on the list.”

“Then I want him brought in for questioning.”

Wallace and Cynthia shared a glance.

“We’re not the authorities, Steven,” said Wallace, “if words get out that there’s a conspiracy brewing at this scale there’d be an upheaval.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just let these people walk free.” Steven’s inflection was trembling. “This is outrageous.”

“We don’t even know where he is yet,” said Cynthia, “assuming he was at the Ancient Tomb, that was anyone’s last sighting of him.”

Steven looked for something to grab but thought better of it. Presently, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“What now, then?”

The trio fell into silence. It didn’t last long, however, as Cynthia’s phone rang briefly.

“Turn that thing off,” said Steven.

He wasn’t aware that her phone was already on silent, save an exception. Ignoring his glaring daggers, she opened it up to a new message.

“We have a lead on Cyrus.” The two men snapped to attention. “He’s believed to be at the Galactic Co. HQ in Eterna City.”

“That’s rather brazen of him,” Wallace commented, “to return there. He must still have quite an influence on the inside.”

“Mars and Jupiter were recently broken out of prison by the person in possession of the Regis. It’s very unlikely to have been Cyrus, however,” said Cynthia.

“Rowan, then?” asked Wallace.

The blonde woman shrugged.

“Tenuous at best guess, but the only one we have for the moment.”

Wallace nodded.

“I’ll try to gather some more information about his whereabouts from the locals. If he’s still in Hoenn, the man would have to turn up sooner or later. Hopefully it’s before we end up plastering his name on the news for a hunch. If we spook and it’s not the right guy, whoever it is, they’re gone.”

Wallace elected to take his leave at this point, for it was late. Cynthia bid him goodbye, while Steven brooded until he was out of their sights.

“What’s next for you?” he asked.

“I need to get back to Sinnoh. The police have been contacted to apprehend Cyrus, but they may need assistance.”

Steven sat down back into his chair; fingers intertwined.

“It’ll take at least a day of travel; I doubt you’d be able to get there in time to be of much help.”

Cynthia had to admit he was right.

“Then what is it you’re suggesting?”

A brief feigned thought.

“Dinner.”

“It’ll be morning soon.”

“That it may be, but the sun’s not yet up.” Steven crooked his head to one side. “And looking at you, it’s obvious you haven’t eaten.”

Cynthia conceded the point to her hunger pang.

“You have food prepared?” she asked.

“Not at this moment, but it’ll be ready in half an hour or so. You simply must give good food the time it needs.” Steven pressed the dial on his desk phone, which produced a light chime. In a mere blink of an eye, his antique gold leaf office door creaked open. There stood the head maid, clad in the ever-reliable white blouse, eyes glued to the floor.

“What do you need, master?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Prepare us a three-course meal in the dining hall and bring Ms. Cynthia here a nice change of clothes.”

As the maid bowed and retreated from the room, Steven received a cautious glare.

“A change of clothes?” Cynthia asked.

“I can tell you haven’t a shower either,” said Steven, “I may not be an expert in women’s fashion, but my maids are. They’ll prepare you something fitting for this nice evening.”

The blonde woman crossed her arms.

“And what if I refused?”

Steven mused over this sudden protest.

“Won’t you do it, as a favour of mine?”

Cynthia groaned, internally. It didn’t take long for the head maid to return, ushering her towards the guest bathroom at the other end of the hallway.

Steven paced about the dining room in his dark blue tuxedo and designer dress shoes. He adjusted his shirt collar with great care, before brushing off the dust of mild insecurities from his sleeves. It has been half an hour. Sleep deprived as he was, he had the time to freshen up before his maids brought the food. Those dishes were still hidden beneath their respective cloches, aroma locked in their individuality. He was hungry, admittedly, but what’s a bit of famishment to this end.

In the dead of night, he heard high heels tapping across the acacia flooring. Swiftly, Steven planted himself at one end of the mahogany table. He’s had his helpers removed a few sections in the middle, shrinking it down to a mere 10-sitter. The immense size of the dining room became even more vast in comparison, but that’s not an issue for the moment.

Cynthia entered the room with the head maid in tow. Her long, luscious golden locks fell onto cover the bare left shoulder, contrasting the midnight black dress gown hanging off her right. The dress slit opened at the bottom, revealing her left thigh whenever she walked forward. Just as fast as he has sat down near moments ago, Steven was on his feet, taking long and fevered strides towards her. They stood eye-to-eye momentarily, before he pulled out the chair from the other end of the table, urging her to sit down. She complied, though unable to fully cover her leg with the modest amount of material put into this single-shoulder gown.

Presently, Steven settled back onto his seat. With a snap of his fingers, a butler unveiled all the dishes from beneath their covers. Individually, they were already quite rich and complicated, but together, Cynthia’s olfactory senses were overwhelmed. She could not even begin to identify them.

“I made a note for the chef to cover all dietary options. I’m sure you’ll find something here to your taste,” said Steven.

“You could’ve just asked me,” Cynthia replied dryly.

He only shrugged in response.

“Vito,” he commanded.

The butler came to her side, hand behind his back. He spoke in a soft, monotonous voice.

“What would be your fancy today, miss? We have cuisine from every continent you can name, and even some you can’t.  Kanto traditional noodles, Hoenn’s famous seafood, Sinnoh’s earthy spices, Unova’s modern twist, Kalos’ confit de canard, and many more.”

Cynthia looked at him.

“Do you have anything vegetarian?”

Steven’s right eye twitched.

“Of course, miss,” said Vito.

He moved in front of her a plate of caprese salad, neatly tucked into a spiralling mound, dripping with streaks of balsamic glaze. He then poured her a glass of whiskey, before retreating to the shadows.

“I wasn’t aware you were vegetarian,” said Steven.

Cynthia took half a forkful of her food. It was good, she must admit. To Steven, she shrugged. He had no choice but to labour over his tonkatsu and tartar sauce nanban in silent.

As they both finished a single course of a three-course meal, Steven noticed his guest has not touched her liquor, despite him having had quite a few.

“I’m very confident that whiskey was still your favourite. Are you just, perhaps, reserved?”

“Perhaps.”

“What seems to be on your mind?” He sat back into his chair, wine glass in hand. “You weren’t the most energetic at the best of times, but if I were a betting man, I’d say you’ve been pulling away.”

“I won’t deny that.”

Steven furrowed his brows.

“Is it because of my proposal last time?” He crooked his head in false naivete. “Understand that my desire for us to enter a relationship shouldn’t be something that troubles you. I’m a patient man. I can wait, should you need more time.”

Cynthia stared at him. Wrapping her fingers around the glass, she slowly downed it all. Spinning the empty glass between her fingers, she replied:

“I’m afraid I’ll have to say no.”

Steven’s usual assured smirk jerked.

“Why is that? Excuse me for being presumptuous, but you didn’t seem very against the idea a few months ago.”

“Things have changed.” It was easy to notice her tremulous tone.

Momentary silence.

Steven leaned forward. For the first time, Cynthia was avoiding his searching gaze.

“Is there someone else?”

Chapter Text

Dawn watched as the Eterna police force breached the main entrance to the Galactic Corporation Headquarters building. The rest of the city has awoken following this massive concentration. She was impressed with how quickly they responded, given that it was the dead of night. The complete lack of reaction from inside the premises caused dread, however. Could she have been mistaken?

“Dawn, what’s on your mind?”

The girl turned to see Gardenia, the city’s Gym Leader. The auburn-haired woman was who she contacted first.

“It’s too quiet,” Dawn said, “I don’t like it.”

“Well, I appreciate you not heading in there on your own.” Gardenia settled next to her. The two haven’t spoken in some time. “These men and women are professionals. We should let them do their job.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. No one saw.

“Did you hear anything out of the ordinary before tonight?” she asked.

Gardenia rubbed her chin with the back of her hand.

“Most normal people tend to leave the Galactic HQ building alone. Ever since they moved it here from Veilstone a few years back there’s always been noise complaints and reports of general rowdiness from the office workers coming into town at night, but nothing major.”

Dawn only nodded, as the two watched on from beyond the hill.

Forty policemen formed an outer parameter, both on the ground and in the air, while some three dozen entered the building through the front gate. One could see their progress from the outside as the light of their torches moved across the windows. Such an operation couldn’t be quiet, but its execution was almost routine.

A flash, then several more.

A shockwave erupted through the air, overwhelming her sensors. It took a solid second for Dawn to comprehend what she just felt. She grabbed Gardenia and pulled the woman downward, as shards of glass flew atop. Only then did her hearing return.

“What on earth was that?” Gardenia was as dumbfounded as she was. “God.” A baffled declaration.

Bodies of injured and stunned servicemen littered the field surrounding the burning Galactic HQ. The woman ran towards them, calling out to anyone who could listen, leaving Dawn immobilised in stunned silence.

The explosion has mobilised the entire city. Powerlines have been obliterated in the series of blasts, causing people to flood the streets with phones in their hands. Dawn could hear the blaring siren taking over the night air, as emergency vehicles converge on the source.

Panic spread.

Dawn turned her head to the South. It was involuntary. She could’ve sworn there were more.

Her phone shook with urgency.

“Mom?”

“Are you alright, dear?” The shake in Johanna’s voice was apparent. “There was an explosion at Jubilife City just now.”

Dawn’s grip tightened as an ambulance passed in front of her.

“I’m fine, mom. Are you home?” She received a confirmation. “I’ll be right there.”

Dawn climbed onto Pipi and took to the air. In this darkness, she couldn’t see all the destruction, or its victims. The only thing to do was to trust in the professionals, as Gardenia put it, and take care of her own.

As her togekiss blitzed through the air, news began to pour in through her phone screen. Every single major city in Sinnoh has been hit. The terrorist attacks were centred around crippling the region’s power infrastructure. The generators are revving, but almost all non-essential services have gone dark, and satellite is the only internet left.

Midnight has long passed, yet Dawn could not feel her own consciousness lulling. Usually, a breezy flight at this hour would put her in a dangerous state of lethargy, but her brain could not imagine resting.

This was a coordinated terrorist attack. Every single city had their grid decimated, and who knew how many innocent bystanders were hurt in the process. After the initial blast, for a brief moment she considered the possibility that she had fallen for a trap. This sequence of bombings convinced her that it was merely a coincidence that she led all those police officers to danger. The building was supposed to be empty.

Does that absolve her?

Families of those men and women would find out they had a missing member by morning. Some of them would understand. They were just doing their job. Still, plenty will blame the mayor nevertheless, and Gardenia, and her. Would she be able to live with that? Isn’t she just running away?

Dawn felt like throwing up. The wind violently slapped her bare face and shoulders, and suddenly the chilling night air enveloped her senses. It was always here, accompanying her journey all the way from Cannalave to Eterna to Twinleaf, yet it no longer felt like a companion.

The sun has risen by the time she landed on the doorstep of her mother’s house. Johanna rushed out to greet her with an embrace. The woman had not much sleep either, going by the bags under those eyes, but seeing her daughter safe was all she wanted.

“I was so worried,” said Johanna, “the power’s down everywhere except the clinic.” She rubbed her daughter’s arms. “You’re freezing. Come inside. I have some candles up.”

Wrapped in a blanket, Dawn watched the world outside her second-floor window. Twinleaf Town appeared safe, as the bombs seemed to only have targeted the big cities. Still, the general sense of unrest was unmissable. People were out on the streets without TV and the internet to distract them, walking aimlessly, awaiting the next bad news.

“Have something to drink, dear.”

Dawn gratefully accepted the cup from her mother. Johanna has placed an old radio on the bedside table, which spit out the occasional static. The woman stared at it blankly for a moment.

“An hour ago, they said aid is being deployed through Snowpoint City, where the lack of power would hit the hardest, then trickle to the rest of the region. Three or four days is the least it’ll take to get the emergency services running cross-country. The grid repair would take months.”

Dawn barely comprehended what she was told. There were too many things going through her mind. The most important part of a smooth recovery process is cooperation and communication, which is undoubtedly crippled. The battery bank in her backpack would give her one more charge of her phone, but that’d be it. All of this, still, didn’t feel real. This scope was too large.

She sipped the hot chocolate from her cup. It was sweet. She could barf.

A knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” said Johanna. The woman went downstairs but didn’t come up again. Instead, Barry sat down next to her on the bed.

“I’m glad I caught you at home. You’ve been gone for a few days.”

“Yeah.”

He looked over at Dawn, then out the window as well.

“This reminds me too much of those days,” he said, “running into Team Galactic all the time. But now, we don’t even know who’s doing this.”

An uncomfortable silence.

“I’m tired, Barry,” Dawn said.

He snickered.

“I bet. You’ve been on the road non-stop.” He scratched his head. “But I know this won’t stop you.”

She looked at him, perplexed. He showed her his toothy grin.

“You’re too stubborn to give up.” He nudged her lightly with his elbow, but still almost caused the cup to spill. “I, the reigning champion of Sinnoh, know you care too much to.”

There’s no line to this logic, still Dawn stifled a laugh.

“Asshole.”

She took another sip.

“I know you’re worried about Ms. Johanna. I’m still here; I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to her. Go and take care of this.”

“Not feeling like doing it yourself? You’re entrusting a lot in me.”

“I don’t have what it takes. Took me longer than I’d like to admit.” A tinge of anguish crossed his eyes. “Just please, return safe.”

Dawn nodded.

“How’s your mother?” she asked.

“She’s been swamped with managing the estate. Dad left behind a lot. No idea how that’ll go with everything shut down, but there are more immediate issues.”

Dawn gave him a side glance.

“There’s a good chance whoever’s responsible for this has something to do with Mr. Palmer’s death.”

She awaited a reaction, but Barry didn’t show her much of one.

“It’s Cyrus, isn’t it?” He didn’t return her gaze. “I’ve read through my dad’s messages recently. I know what he was holed up in Sendoff Spring all this time for. Who else could it be?”

“Are you not angry?”

“More than you’d ever know.” He sighed. “But if I chase after this man and failed, and ended up like my dad, what would my mother feel?”

“But you’re ok with me going for it?”

“Four years ago, the last time we stood together opposing him on Spear Pillar, it wasn’t me that took him down. I couldn’t back then, and I can’t now. I’ll stick to protecting the people who are important to me, and I’ll let you be the hero you were meant to be.”

“No pressure, right?” Dawn smiled, but she didn’t receive a playful smirk in response.

Barry stared at her; forlorn hope marred his expression.

Chapter Text

He rubbed his face. It has been years since he was last exposed to sea air, and it’s not doing any good for his aging complexion. His old bones creaked with the splashing waves.

He gripped the brown leather suitcase by his side like a leash on his own life. His thumbs rubbed and kneaded the handle; wild fingers skirted the edge of the lock on occasion. A gust of wind crossed his senses, causing him to almost instinctively clutched his prized possession.

Deep breaths.

It was silly, he thought. This boat was basically empty. No one in their right mind would want to head for Sinnoh at this calamitous moment, except for this sailor. This ferry had so little demand the man was practically begging for business. As far as he knew, there were only two passengers on this vessel which could hold up to a hundred. So long as he had one hand on this guardrail and the other on the luggage, he’d be fine.

Despite this, such a dull journey gnawed at his patience. Years of planning, but the tightness of the collar on his shirt forced him to adjust it, the humidity in his hair made him scratch, and the wool socks around his ankle itched. He decided to head up to the deck for more fresh air. Perhaps the wind would play gently on his skin.

To his dismay, he was not alone up here. The sole other passenger stood off to his left, leaning against the rails, back to him, looking off to the distance. He didn’t feel like striking up a conversation, and so opted to settle on the opposite end of the deck.

Twitching, he scoured his coat pocket for a candy bar. This was the first time in the last four hours had his hand left the handles of his suitcase, but he deemed it an acceptable risk. He took a bite, then another. His stiff posture relaxed gradually, before focusing on the subject in front of him, out of sheer boredom.

The other passenger was a woman. She donned a black tank top cut off at the shoulder, a curious travelling apparel for a trip on the high seas. The loose hem of her beige jeans fluttered in the morning winds, blending with her long, wavering blonde hair.

A primal fear.

Rowan crushed the candy wrapper in his hands before hastily tossing it overboard. He rubbed his bearded face in nervous anticipation. He began moving towards the opening that led back down to the hatch. With any luck, he could-

She turned around out of sheer happenstance.

Her sharp grey eyes took a moment, but eventually befell him. Rowan stood dead in his tracks, forced to return her gaze.

“Professor.”

His body stiffened of fright.

“Cynthia.” He rubbed his face again. “Great coincidence seeing you here.”

“You must be quite surprised to see me here.” Her knuckles cracked as her hands formed fists. “It was quite the ingenious plan you had, leaving me to rot in that Ancient Tomb. It would’ve been weeks until anyone found out. Out of pure luck was I able to claw my way out, given your attempt to wipe out any hints of how to escape.”

“But you made it! I always knew you would.”

Cynthia didn’t appreciate the painfully conceited effort.

“So, you’re scurrying back to Sinnoh now that the bulletin for your head has spread across Hoenn. Did you plan for the explosions in Sinnoh to cover your tracks, or was that just convenient timing?”

“I don’t know you what you mean.”

“It’s fine if you won’t talk.” She approached, forcing him back against the rails. “A week ago, I might have had the patience to play a diplomatic game. But now, I’m just going to beat it out of you.”

“Stop!” Rowan cried, holding out his hand. “Are you sure you want to do this here? We’re in the middle of the ocean, and there’re bystanders.”

“You’re bluffing. You and I are both on this boat because neither of us possess a means of air travel. If you dared to touch this vessel, you’d be just as stranded.”

“Are you willing to risk the captain’s life on it?”

Cynthia’s vision briefly grazed the cockpit. He gulped.

“If you know what I have on hand, you would be wise to not test me.”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, deliberating. She noticed the firm grip the man has on his only possession.

“What would cause you to do this, professor?”

A nervous smirk appeared on Rowan’s face. If he could keep her talking, he could get himself out of this.

“Forty years of hard work I’ve poured into the sciences, my dear student, and not the slightest bit of recognition.”

Cynthia could not believe what she was hearing.

“Other experts worldwide used to credit you for your seniority and mentorship when you were still active.”

“Nonsense.” He shook his fist. “I may have held their hands and taught them how to read from one end of the whiteboard to another, but have you heard any of these ungrateful villeins refer to me as anything but an old textbook?”

“I don’t remember you caring this much.”

“You might have been one of my brighter assistants, but you weren’t willing to look beneath the surface of discipline. Even I didn’t believe it at first. However, when I submitted the complete Sinnoh essays for peer review, those same brats who I once called my students had the gall to question its validity and dismissed it out of hand. A decade’s worth of work down the drain! Do you understand how that feels?”

Rowan’s question did not receive the reaction he expected. Cynthia, instead of engaging in any level of empathy, only stared him down.

“Your paper was rejected by a faction of scientists led by Professor Sycamore.”

The wheels turned in his head.

“How would you know this?”

“It’s because I asked him to.”

Rowan stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Why would you do that?”

“You had almost a dozen assistants doing fieldwork while you sat in your lab stuffing your face with candy, yet you did not feel the slightest need to name any of them when it was time to submit your precious research.” She held up two fingers. “Only yours and some assistant’s names were on there. Where were the rest of them, Rowan?”

His ragged face twitched.

“Impossible. Sycamore could not have possibly taken your word over mine.”

“I sent him the entire draft of the paper that you plagiarised.”

Realisation came to him.

“Dawn,” the name slithered out of his virulent lips, “the little twerp sold me out.”

“You have no right to speak her name. It was pure coincidence that I even found out. That girl respected you and would’ve swallowed her pride for yours. She didn’t even know what I did. Your academic exile is of your own doing.”

She had him cornered, yet to act. Intimidation only went so far, for she was cautious of any erratic reactions he might have. If what she guessed was correct, that suitcase contained some very important items.

It caught her off guard when Rowan burst into a sprint in away from the direction of the cockpit. She gave chase, only to watch in confusion when the suitcase to which he has been holding on for dear life throughout the entire exchange was tossed over portside. Cynthia ran after the briefcase and saw it hit the water. Vaulting over the railings, she dove after it. Her milotic burst forth from its containment and swooped to catch her before she slammed into the sea below.

She recovered the briefcase at great haste, but a scream from the vessel demanded her attention. She turned to it expecting to climb back up, only to find the entire craft encased in solid ice. Her lucario emerged from its pokeball and began pummelling into the frost covering the outer hull. The blows caused the ferry to rock, eliciting an even louder scream from above. It didn’t take long for cracks to appear, and she held onto her milotic’s head as it raised her off the sea level. Landing back onto the vessel, she noticed Rowan nowhere to be seen. Aimless, she ran towards the cockpit to find the source of the noise. The captain was in there, desperately trying to get out of the frozen cabin, of which her lucario made quick work. He stumbled outside, the door now shattered to pieces.

“Are you alright?” Cynthia helped him to his feet.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his arms, shivering under the flash freeze. “What happened?”

“Did you not see anything?”

The captain only shook his head.

Cynthia ran to the bow of the ship but could spot nothing on the horizon. A quick survey below deck revealed a similar lack of answers. As the captain cleared out the rest of the frost so that his vessel can get moving once again, she was left with nothing but the brown leather suitcase in her hands.

Chapter Text

The Harbour Inn was the least crowded it has ever been since the reopening. The recent bombings have practically shut off all tourism across the entirety of Sinnoh, and most Canalave natives were more interested in preparing for the worst yet to come or trying to salvage whatever business they had left. Without electricity, stale candles exuded light and odour shimmering across the first-floor bar. There were guests, for not even terrorism could stop one’s desire to drown themselves in copious amounts of alcohol, but they were few. Even fewer rooms were rented, for the leisure industry has come to a near complete halt.

“Which way to room 17?”

The barkeeper looked up. It was a woman who he’s never seen before, showing up at the Inn near midnight. He craned a curious eyebrow.

“Are you here for someone?” he asked, scratching his moustache, “you don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“Yes. I just arrived at the port.”

Her short breath may suggest she was telling the truth, though this timing couldn’t have been more suspicious. Leaning over the counter, the barkeeper spotted a brown leather briefcase the woman was carrying.

“Not a lot of visitors recently.” His doubt wasn’t hidden. “What you got there?”

“Just research documents. I’m an archaeologist from Celestic Town.”

She handed over an ID for the barkeeper to look over. He was good at spotting fakes, and this one didn’t seem so. He handed it back across the counter. Another sly look, but there was no other reason to hold this up.

“Second floor, take a left. It’s the room at the end.”

“Thank you.”

Cynthia walked briskly up the stairs, containing her jitters as much as she could. There weren’t many prying eyes at this hour, but she could not help but try to compose. She grabbed the handle of the door to room 17, which was where the barkeeper said it was, but didn’t turn it quite yet. She counted to ten, then took a deep breath.

Moonlight overwhelmed her vision as she stepped in, pouring through the open window. Blindless, it was a direct visual contact with the harbour on which she just landed a mere fifteen minutes prior. If she tried, she could perhaps spot the ferry pulling into rest.

She had no such desire.

Cynthia locked the door behind her, as the single occupant noticed her arrival. Eyes, blue as the ocean and dark as the night, peered at her soul. The yellow hairclips on both sides accentuated the swaying of those tresses as they draped over bare shoulders.

“You’re here.”

Dawn swiftly brushed away minute specs of dirt that might have collected since the last time she fussed about impatiently. She remained on the bed, however. Cynthia placed the suitcase down, then elected to reside on a nearby chair instead.

 “It’s good to see you.” Cynthia held her heart from her throat. For a moment she wondered if the long trip has made her delirious. “It must not have been easy to get into contact with me, what’s with all the powerlines in wrecks.”

“My phone is dry.” Dawn said, waving the black-screened gadget in her hands. “I couldn’t even be sure you received the message.”

“I did. I even encountered Rowan on the boat, freak timing.” Cynthia flicked open the suitcase’s lock, revealing its contents. “I did, however, manage to secure this. I originally thought this was where he held the legendary pokemon; turns out they were just his research notes.”

She rummaged over pages after pages of study, but she could see Dawn’s eyes drifting.

“Cynthia,” said the girl, “can you hold it off for tonight?”

The blonde woman slammed that luggage shut.

“You look tired,” she said.

Dawn smiled, but there was no happiness in it.

“I’ve been running around offering help, but a kid like me isn’t welcomed when people are trying to repair powerlines and restore infrastructure. I promised myself I’d put an end to this, but really, I’m just twiddling my thumbs in a motel room.”

“Everybody’s doing their best. I’m sure they’ll understand when this is taken care of.”

“I don’t really care about that.”

Dawn stood up to approach her companion. Cynthia sat silent, stiff, and scarlet from head to toe. She didn’t react when Dawn perched on her thighs. The girl’s face was so close, inching forward with every breath, roaming fingertips palpating the pore on her skin.

“It’s late,” she managed, “perhaps you should rest.”

“Cynthia.” Dawn draped her arms over the woman’s shoulders. “Let me ask you a question.”

No amount of faux poise could cover the woman’s trembling hands. She clutched onto the edges of her chair with a vice grip.

“Go ahead,” she replied.

“What do you think of me?”

It was not just those words, but also the beguiling, vulpine demeanour that characterised them, that sent her internals into an aberration. She could feel her vocal cords quivered as they struggled to emit the blinking thoughts bouncing around her head.

“You’re very important to me. I care a lot for your wellbeing.”

Dawn begot an impish pout.

“You’re deflecting.”

She leaned in even further, the physical distance between them mere pretence. Dawn’s words were but a mild, teasing whisper. Then came the pause, its note languishing under the moonlight, hung in the air like the last teardrop. It trampled inhibitions, ground down barriers, and built a single moment of enervated anticipation.

“I love you,” Dawn affirmed, “I want you.”

Cynthia felt the vow carving at her resolve, a feverous waterfall crashing against her better judgment. Even as she gasped for breath in a desperate attempt to quell these flighty emotions, the girl’s subtle fragrance mingled with her scents and senses. It was no longer feasible or sincere to disengage with what was in front of her.

“Dawn, what’s between us hasn’t changed.” A burst of forthrightness empowered the woman’s words. “You are just a teenager, and I’m 10 years your senior. It wasn’t proper of me years ago, and it isn’t proper of me now to replicate these feelings.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected as a response. When the two happened upon each other at her grandmother's weeks ago, she has already come clean with this. The girl seemed very understanding then, but tonight hasn’t exactly met her expectations.

Presently, Dawn took her face into her hands. There were unmistakably tears gushing from those beady eyes. There was no longer any veneer of that unabashed confidence whispering tender promises. She clutched onto the woman’s shirt by the waist.

There was just this weeping teenage girl.

Cynthia weaved her slender fingers through that dark silvery hair and rested them gently on the back of the girl’s neck. She could feel her shirt dampen. She calmed her own rumblings. Unlike Dawn, she wasn’t crying, but she needed to keep it that way.

The moon waned.

Dawn’s sobbing eventually stayed. She rested her head on the woman’s chest, as the latter cradled her back.

“Cynthia,” she asked, “do you often feel lonely?”

The woman smiled.

“Only when you’re not here.”

“But what about before we met?” A scrutinising, bratty inquiry. “Or the last few years when we didn’t talk?”

Not hearing an answer, the girl looked up at those grey eyes. The smile she saw on the blonde woman’s face was painted on, stiff as a mask. She reached up to those cheeks to caress them slowly.

“Cynthia?” she asked again.

“There’s always a lot of work to do. It’s not hard to keep busy.”

“When was the last time you took a break, Cynthia? Not a quick time off to visit your family, but to really sit down and rested for at least a week or two?”

She expected a complete lack of a response, for there wasn’t a truthful answer to that.

Dawn kneaded those brittle cheeks between her palms.

“You said you became a trainer when you were twelve, right, same as I did? You’ve been doing this for fourteen years straight.”

“It sounds a lot longer if you put it like that.”

“There’s no other way to put it. When morning comes, you’re just going to fix your makeup and continue this, won’t you?”

“I need to help.”

“It’s not even your job,” Dawn protested, “you’re an archaeologist. You haven’t even been affiliated with the league for years, nor the government, so why do they always call you when things go wrong?”

Cynthia bit her lip.

“It’s…,” an excruciating pause, “my responsibility.”

Dawn sighed.

“I wonder if this how my mother feels whenever she tries to talk me out of things.”

“She just wants a peaceful life for you.”

“Can’t I want it for you too?”

Cynthia contemplated.

“Perhaps after this is over, I’ll have a holiday.”

“My birthday is coming up in a few months. Can you take me with you, if things permit?”

“Of course.”

It was a promise for another day. Satisfied, Dawn snuggled into the woman’s chest, as they both drifted asleep, fingers entwined.

Chapter Text

Saturn paced about his office. He has received plenty of news, and none of it good. Eterna’s Galactic Headquarters laid in rubble, and he’s been fending off the press and police investigators for days. He told them the truth, for he had no hand in such terrorism. His thoughts wandered to the obvious perpetrator.

Cyrus was a fool, blinded by idealism. Spirits? What does he even mean by that? Rambling fool.

Saturn massaged his cheeks. An unsightly frown has manifested. Galactic Co. may be reeling from this shock, but whenever this crisis ended it would recover. He would build it back up again, if needed. He’s done it before.

No. Despite his hums and hoes about the march of progress, profits weren’t what got his feelings in a knot. It was something far more primal.

Fear.

He pressed the com button on his office’s landline. To no surprise, his personal assistant answered, just as she had the last eight times within the hour.

“President, do you need anything?” It was apparent in her voice that she was straining to stay polite. Nevertheless, her professionalism prevailed.

“Has there been any new visitors?”

“Aside from the ones you already banned from the building, none, sir.”

“Very good.”

Thus, the landline was closed again.

Saturn’s focus waxed and waned, which happened to settle on the chandelier. It was the centrepiece of the room, something he himself spent a great deal of money in acquiring. That gleaming silver frame caught a reflection of the high noon sun, casting slow, swaying beam of light meandering across the surfaces. Dazzling crystals made up the bulk of its base, spreading their floral motifs across the construction. They shimmered, mesmerised, captivated. It was worth a lot of employee’s monthly salaries. He recalled being complimented for its ownership. It showed his taste, his sophistication, and his class.

None of which mattered now.

Saturn shook his head. He hasn’t been able to concentrate on any real work for days, not that there was much to do at this point. He glanced at his gold-plated watch. It has been a few minutes.

He pressed the com button on his office’s landline again. To his surprise, there was no answer. A tinge of dread crossed his minds. He pressed the button another time, only to receive the idle dial tone in response.

Three, four, five, six times.

Saturn slammed the receiver back into its slot. His pacing became more erratic. His head swivelled wildly on his neck. Those brown eyes bounced from end to end of the room, even towards the view of the skyline. From here, he could see Veilstone below through the floor-to-ceiling window. The city has halted many activities, but it lived on regardless. For a split second, he contemplated jumping.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” His voice trembled, and so did his hands when the answer he hoped for hasn’t come. There was no answer at all.

He thought of opening the door, facing it head-on, but beat those thoughts back down. He remembered that he had peepholes installed but dared not inch forward. Then, he remembered that they weren’t locked. Those double doors were made of rich, dark wood, polished to perfection and embellished with carvings from civilisations of which he had little idea.

Laboriously, they creaked open inwards.

There were three. A man flanked by two women. They entered his office, dressed in the old monochrome Galactic leader uniforms retired years ago.

“Saturn,” one of the women greeted him with a wide smirk, “you’ve done well for yourself.” He remembered her red hair well, though it has then grown longer, than in his memory, to her back.

“Look at this stuff,” the other woman, hair of lavender and eyes of green, ran her fingertips across the frame of his awards display case, only a few steps from the door.

“Mars,” he managed one, “Jupiter,” then the other.

The pair flashed him a devious smile.

“Is there someone you forgot?” they teased.

From between them, came the man of Saturn’s nightmare. He was silent, but his gaze was firm. Those eyes didn’t stray, neither did the numerous lines across his face. There were so many more than Saturn recalled. The man stood still, hand running through that spiky blue hair, adjusting the collar of the silver Team Galactic jacket made exclusively for its leader.

“Boss,” said Saturn, not one drop of blood left on his face.

“Saturn.” Cyrus approached his once-underling. “I see you’ve become quite paranoid. You’ve relocated away from the HQ, just in case someone came there looking for you.”

“Yes, boss,” answered Saturn.

Cyrus responded first with a hearty chuckle. He grabbed Saturn by the shoulder, and said:

“Imagine my surprise, dragging my own dishevelled body back to civilisation all those months ago, only to find out that not only was Team Galactic still around, but it has also become the most prominent conglomerate in the country. I’d like to congratulate you on the effort.”

“Thank you, boss.”

“I was gone for so long, but I still remember your desire to turn this organisation into something of your own. I admire your ambitions, if nothing else. I cannot blame you for what happened to Team Galactic after I was gone. For anyone’s guess, I’d never to return.”

“Yes, boss.”

Cyrus dropped his painfully fake smile.

“Then someone told me how you got here. It was because you sold out your own comrades to the authorities.”

Mars and Jupiter flanked Saturn, backing him up towards his desk.

“While we were rotting away in prison for years, you were out here drinking expensive wine and playing CEO,” said Mars.

“Have you no shame, Saturn? What happened to all those words of comradery we shared? Have you always been this much of a disgraceful pig, right under our noses, just waiting for an opportunity to pull the rug out from under us?” said Jupiter.

“No,” Saturn pleaded, “I believed in the boss when we exchanged those vows, but things have changed. He has failed. What was I to do?”

Cyrus interrupted him, his head shook in disappointment.

“The five of us promised to stick together through thick and thin. Yet here you stood, alone, Saturn. Have you even an idea of what happened to Charon?”

Saturn thought this over. He did vaguely notice they haven’t met in a while, but he never felt much of a desire to check up on the old man.

“He’s dead, Saturn,” said Jupiter, humourless, “while you pranced here in your ivory tower, we tracked him back to his childhood home in Eterna Forest. There it was, burnt to a crisp, and him with it.”

Saturn flailed his arm in denial.

“I had no nothing to do with it.”

His protest looked to have fallen on deaf ears.

“Tell me, Saturn, is the lab still in working condition?” Cyrus asked, out of the blue.

Saturn could only nod with haste.
“Keys?”

“It’s biometrics. Fingerprints or infrared face scan only.”

A wry smile curled up on Cyrus’ face.

“Then you’re going to open it for us.”

Saturn stood inside the elevator as it descended from his office on the 23^rd floor. Mars and Jupiter leant against the wall panels, watching him like hawks. Cyrus stood by him shoulder to shoulder, without a word. Saturn stole a glance at him, then the women, to find signs of struggle. At this dire moment, he found himself worrying for his personal assistant. He wanted to ask after her. He didn’t. She was a good worker, he thought, loyal and patient. He thought of all the times they’ve exchanged unkind words, and how small those seemed now. It was a mutual respect he wished he’d expressed earlier. If they made it out of here today, he’ll give her something nice.

The elevator stopped at B2.

As its doors opened, they walked out into a small hallway, with a small guard post to the right and an emergency exit to the left. Usually the post would be manned, but recent events has forced him to let most of his workers go on leave, and only the volunteers would still come to work. It was a good PR move at the time. Now, perhaps he regretted it.

They approached the far end of the corridor, where a set of giant stainless steel double doors stood. Saturn put his hand on a nearby console, which accepted his fingerprints without question.

“Have you made any changes to the lab?” Cyrus asked.

“No, boss. It’s been moved from upstairs, but everything else should be the same. The company does R&D for normal consumer products at Eterna instead.”

“Excellent.”

The two men faced each other. Saturn saw the lab entrance opened behind Cyrus, but the old Galactic boss was looking only at him.

“I accept your reparations, Saturn. You’ve done well.”

Cyrus closed the door behind him as he disappeared into the inner chambers. Saturn breathed a sigh of relief, only to remember he was not alone yet.

Mars placed her hand on his chest, rough fingers slowly ascending, closing in on his neck. He backed away, but Jupiter was behind him. He turned to face her but could only comprehend a sharp pain piercing his ribcage. The only thing he could do was to accept the futility of the struggle.

Chapter Text

“Buck!”                                                  

He jolted awake, then blinked twice. His eyes darted about. To his left, two people staring at him. To his right, one more.

“Sorry,” he gave his head a swift shake, “what were we talking about?”

Thorton sighed, his everlasting grimace deadened slightly. Fixing his green necktie to stay composed, he pointed at Buck.

“The plan, Mr. Tower Tycoon, to revitalise the Battle Frontier once we open back up. We’re pitching ideas for the new season. Would you like to contribute?”

“Right, of course,” Buck ran his hands behind his head to look for a ponytail that’s no longer there, “I’m sure that’s important and all, but shouldn’t we be more worried about whether or not we can actually reopen?”

Thorton huffed.

“Nonsense. Whatever’s happening in the mainland will eventually pass. You wouldn’t want your facilities to be unmaintained by the time the league resumes its regular season, would you?”

“Now Thorton, young Buck brings up a good point,” said Argenta, giant earrings dangling as she turned, who placed a knowing hand on Thorton’s shoulder, “while the energy crisis will undoubtedly be fixed, whoever’s responsible isn’t in custody.”

From the opposite end of the meeting table, Dahlia had her golden heels up on the empty seat next to hers. She leant sideways onto the tabletop.

“No need to worry,” she said, “we still have at least two more months before the reopening. The authorities will do their job.”

Buck looked at his colleagues, then drifted back to the thoughts plaguing his minds. A deep breath was what it took for him to speak.

“That’s not what Palmer would’ve done.”

The others stared at him.

“What did you say?” asked Thorton.

“I’m sitting in his seat, and I knew him well,” said Buck, near shaking, “he wouldn’t convene in this office and wait for the hard times to pass while others struggle. He’d go out there and help.”

“Ridiculous,” Thorton scoffed, “there’s barely any transportation to the mainland these days, and we’re trainers, not engineers. As Frontier Brains, we should be worried about making sure there’s normalcy to return to once this is over. Leave the reconstruction to the experts.”

Buck slammed his fist into the glass tabletop, shooting up from his seat.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, “my brother is on the mainland helping to get the cities together and he barely knew how to hold a wrench. There’s a lot more ways we can help than just fixing electrical lines and repairing foundation. We should at least let the staff go to help.”

“Buck, calm yourself,” Argenta walked to him with haste, “I’m not against helping, but you must understand that we’re as short staffed as is. Ever since Darach accompanied Lady Caitlin back to Unova, we’ve barely operated at two-thirds of our capacity.”

“If you like helping so much, just leave,” Dahlia was flippant, “you may be Tower Tycoon now, but it’s obvious to the rest of us you don’t have what it takes to replace Palmer.”

Buck should’ve been offended. It was meant to be offensive, after all, but his attention was elsewhere. An inconspicuous cloud of black smoke outside the northern window caught his eyes. Most wouldn’t bat another glance, but Buck knew. It was coming from Stark Mountain, and the distance suggested it was much larger than it appeared.

The sonic boom hit.

The windows crackled under the shock wave. Dahlia and Thorton let out a yelp, as Argenta shouted some commands about them getting to shelter. The fire alarms rung like a scattered drum. There Buck stood, watching from the inside, as ash, soot, and even magma spewed forth from a colossal pillar bursting from the mouth of the volcano.

Another sonic boom hit.

Buck held his arms in front of his face as the glass finally shattered. He could see giant streams of lava racing down the mountainside with haste, as the sky darkened above. Pyroclastic flows, superheated gases, and various debris accompanied thunderous reverberations and spread across the Battle Zone, as muffled screams of panic flooded the air.

The third sonic boom hit.

Buck jumped out of his Battle Tower’s Tycoon Office on the sixth floor through the space where the windows were. His claydol came from a pokeball on his belt and caught him before his fall accelerated. As the two descended, Buck heard fire trucks mobilising. There are many people living near the base of Stark Mountain, and if the eruption was strong enough to blow out windows all the way to the Battle Frontier, many closer may not even have a fighting chance.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Buck ran towards the four-wheel-drive truck parked in front of the Battle Castle and smashed in its windows with his claydol’s psychic attack. The backup keys were in the compartment just as he remembered. He’ll have to apologise to Caitlin later.

As he drove the black, rugged all-terrain vehicle towards the volcano, Buck couldn’t get rid of a nagging doubt at the back of his head. Disregarding how dangerous and reckless this solo rescue mission was, he’d been around Stark Mountain enough to know that this explosion was anything but natural.

Heatran has returned.

Buck leant further into the gas pedals. It was the worst outcome. He had appealed to the authorities to trace its disappearance months prior, but with the lack of leads and the death of Palmer derailing all efforts, he was left to pick up the pieces. If Heatran is back, then this must mean its captor is present as well. Maybe he should’ve asked for help. As the vehicle raced forward, he opened his phone to find one lonely signal bar. His calls didn’t go through regardless, which he would bet on anyone he’s trying to reach being stuck in the basement bunker. Desperate, he turned on the radio. Cries for help flooded the emergency channels. There were so many he hadn’t a clue to where to head.

A clump of magma barely missed the truck.

Cursing, Buck understood. While emergency services help those in need, he needs to tackle the source head-on. This kind of eruption can last as long as a few days and would devastate the region beyond repair. The volcano needed to be calmed by any means necessary.

It took him thirty minutes to arrive at the base on the slope. There wasn’t much traffic on the way. The path inside the volcano wasn’t suitable for a vehicle, however, and he found himself on foot soon enough. He has discarded most of his professional attire, instead moving more freely in his reliable t-shirt and shorts which he wore beneath. As he headed across the exterior pits, all the magma pools have overflowed as expected. He needed to tread carefully.

Despite the ongoing eruption, the interior of the mountain was navigable still. Buck knew this place like the back of his hand, having been the one to personally map out every path accessible on foot, from the winding natural staircases to the scaling rock ladders he helped carve. Some has since faded, others blocked for one reason or another, but one constant remained: he must go deeper.

Heatran’s original dwelling can be found near the upper most section of the interior. It is a central location from which the legendary pokemon can awaken and amplify the destructive power of the volcano. Heat, pressure, and an ominous sense of dread loomed over the entrance as Buck made his way through, as quietly as he could, to the inner chamber.

In the middle was Heatran, standing on its four massive limbs, spewing a spiralling column of manga from its metal jaw onto the opening above. The orange spots on its molten body were flashing, sucking in the vapour from the thin atmosphere to fuel its immense power.

Without warning, its owner turned to Buck. He held a cane on his right hand and a briefcase on his left. His scraggly moustache scratched the upper lip. The man adjusted his brown tie, further accentuating its stylistic clash against his cyan vest.

“A visitor,” said Rowan, “boy, are you some sort of thrill seeker, or did you come here on purpose?”

Buck didn’t answer. His claydol burst from its containment and charged at the man. Before its attack could connect, a hand of colossal scale breached the ground and grabbed its entire body with three massive fingers. With great ease, the meters tall Regigigas pulled itself up into view from the soil below as it smashed Buck’s companion relentlessly into the dirt.

Buck summoned his torkoal to retaliate, but the stream of fire ejected from the turtle’s mouth was stopped dead by another golem emerging, one made from rock and stone. Not as towering as Regigigas, Regirock with its club-like hands swung at his torkoal and him with great might. He coughed, collapsed, and clutched his chest as a crushing pain overtook his senses. Regigigas approached his bleeding, sprawling body, before bringing down its gigantic moss-covered foot onto him.

Chapter Text

“An explosion at Lake Verity.”

“An explosion at Lake Valor.”

“An explosion at Lake Acuity.”

“An explosion at Stark Mountain.”

“An explosion at Pal Park.”

As the terror attacks continued across Sinnoh, the region fell into a fog. Not a geographical phenomenon, rather the declining will of the people. There were no demands made, no face to which others can attribute these horrors, and no one to step up to take responsibility for letting it get this far. Cities recovering from the initial bombings of the power grid began to close themselves off. Those who lived in settler towns were abandoning their rural lives in droves. Waves of refugees began to depart from the port cities for surrounding regions, as even rescue and restorative efforts slowed.

Dawn found herself walking the shores of Lake Acuity. From where she was standing, she could see the Acuity Cavern demolished by the recent explosion, which she came to investigate. Unlike that bomb set off by Jupiter all those years ago, this one was meant to destroy, rather than fright. Uxie was long gone, and she knew that, so what was the point of this wreckage? The surrounding wildlife have mostly been scared off, not that it’d been a big clue. The snowfall at the height of winter wasn’t making the trip here easy, and despite the mittens her hands were still reeling from the cold air. She shuddered.

Her phone rang, and she expected more bad news yet. Picking up, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Looker? Where have you been?”

“Dawn. Good to hear from you.” Looker sounded gruff and exasperated as always. “It’s been hell trying to get into Sinnoh’s cell towers network from Hoenn. I just got back, only to find that the region has apparently been bombed?”

“Cyrus and Rowan have been using their legendary pokemon to cause havoc, and it seems Jupiter and Mars have been working hard creating explosives to spread.” Dawn realised she was just venting. “Do you have news?”

“Yes. I went to Hoenn to track Rowan’s assistant, Ms. Roseanne. In fact, I’m still on her tail now. She has returned to Sinnoh.”

“What?” Dawn has truthfully forgotten about this woman, but the timing of her movements never failed to raise suspicion. “Do you know what she’s up to?”

“As far as I know she’s buried herself in a lab ever since she arrived in Hoenn. The moment I saw her again she hopped on a ferry to return to the mainland. The only cargo she has is a suitcase. No idea what’s inside though.”

Neither did Dawn.

“Can you bring her in?” she asked.

“I’ll do it the moment we set foot on land, which should be within the next hour.” A brief ruckus. “Got to go. Don’t want to blow my cover.”

“Stay safe.”

She stared at the phone for a while. As Dawn returned her gaze towards the lake, she noticed a shadow approaching from behind: a taller, slim silhouette enveloping her own, arms wrapping around her neck.

“Who was it?” asked Cynthia, resting her chin on the girl’s shoulder, warmth from her breath caressing Dawn’s pale skin.

“Looker, about Roseanne. She’s back to Sinnoh.”

“Roseanne? I remember her. She’s one of Rowan’s aides. She came in around the time I left.” The woman thought for a moment. “If I’m not mistaken, she was also the only other name credited on that paper that Rowan submitted that got them both excommunicated from the scientific community. They must still be working together.”

“We’ll just have to wait for Looker to report back. Have you found anything?” asked Dawn.

Cynthia cupped the girl’s well-gloved hand from beneath, then placed a rugged small chunk of rock on her palm.

“This was blown all the way from the cavern in the middle of the lake. It was seared on one side, and the corrosion levels suggest that side was the interior. This points to an explosion originating from the inside. This was a large but controlled destruction to destroy nothing,” said Cynthia.

“A distraction? Lucas is at Lake Verity; do you think he’d say the same?”

Cynthia nodded.

The water shifted at a glacial pace, as the sun continued its eternal stride. Dawn leant backwards, snug into the warmth of the body behind her. She felt Cynthia’s limbs tensing up, then turned her head slowly. The distance between their faces inched ever closer, until Dawn planted a light kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“You’re red as beet,” she said.

Cynthia audibly inhaled.

“Sorry.”

Midday arrived upon the lake. Absolute silence creeped into every nook and cranny of the atmosphere, as there were not any activities from flora nor fauna. It was difficult to comprehend the stillness of the trees, whether they were looking, judging, plotting. The scenery could be distilled then crushed into dust, grounded further into a fine mist, then blew into the draft and froze into snowflakes.

Cynthia blinked.

She panted. Her heart beat. She counted. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Cynthia?” Dawn touched the forehead of her companion. “Are you alright?”

Cynthia could not answer. She wasn’t aware of how long it had been a wave had crossed her brain. The last thing she remembered was the still gust of wind creaking in her bones, paradoxical as it was. It was a momentary lapse, but she could not say where the time went. A mild panic hit and passed, but she couldn’t bring herself to check her watch.

Presently, ringing. Hers, this time.

“Cynthia here. Who is it?”

“Champ?” A man’s voice, familiar in attribute but not in tone. “It’s Flint.”

“Flint, it’s been a while. What do you need?”

“A favour, champ. Heard you were close to Snowpoint City?”

Cynthia glanced at Dawn, who nodded.

“Yes. I’m at Lake Acuity looking over the explosion reported last night.”

“Need you to convince the Snowpoint gym leader to let me leave. She won’t let me take a boat out to the Battle Zone.”

Another concerned glance exchanged.

“Wasn’t there an eruption at Stark Mountain recently? I think the governor deemed it unsafe to come.”

“My brother’s missing.” A pause. “I can’t just sit here.”

A moment of deliberation.

“Hang tight, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The call was cut from the other end.

“Never good news,” said Dawn, “I hope Buck is alright, but should we really let Flint go at a time like this?”

Cynthia looked at her.

“I understand his desire to risk everything he has for someone else.”

It was Dawn’s turn to feel heat rushing to her cheeks, but no one saw. The two departed for the east.

Acuity Lakefront, usually overran with skiers at this time of year, was as quiet as the lake itself. The occasional gust of wind would overtake a traveller’s senses, drawing their eyes across the horizon and the row after row of snow-covered vegetation. The trees were haggard and dry, but a knock at their trunk would reveal that the harsh environment they grew in has given them impossibly solid bases. They would not be easily fell by any act of nature. Compared to the rest of civilisation on Sinnoh, this remote, relatively untouched location represented a rustic purity often overlooked. Even those who frequented these mountains were more eager to get to their destination, whether it was Snowpoint City or the summit where they could satisfy their urge of adventure. The heavy snowstorm made pokemon flights risky, and the below zero temperature seeped into one’s clothes even if well-prepared.

“Why don’t you wear gloves?” Dawn asked, as they idly waged forward through the snow. “You have winter boots, jacket, and beanie on like everyone else, but nothing on your hands. You place them in your pockets anyways.”

Cynthia pulled her right hand out, catching snowflakes in her grasp.

“Touch is important to me. I don’t want to have to pull off my gloves every time I want to feel something. I have an emergency pair in the inside of my jacket, but I opt not to most of the time.”

Dawn contemplated this for a moment. She degloved her left hand, then put it into the woman’s right jacket pocket. The two took in a breath of the chilly air. Cynthia returned her exposed hand to its designated pocket.

Chapter Text

Snowpoint City was the most deserted it has ever been since it became an official part of the League’s circuit. Devoid of tourists, most shops and services were forced to close. Barren of opportunities, many took more-than-brief leaves down south to stay afloat. Disconnected from the grid, the rest lived on generators and candles. The city’s emergency supplies were more prepared than most, but nothing could keep the eventual onset of an exceptionally harsh winter off its residents’ minds.

The S.S. Spiral sat docked by the city’s harbour. It hasn’t seen use in weeks, as the Fight Area remained inaccessible to the public with the League suspended. Today, however, it had passengers aboard.

Flint sat still on a bench by the top deck, his iconic fiery cotton candy perm was instead ragged and unkempt, easy to tell it has been a few rough days for him. Beneath the thick wool jacket, one could almost spot the collar of his iconic yellow shirt. He stared at nothing, but small movements in his joints and facial features betrayed his inner turmoil.

He was not alone. Sitting directly opposite of him was Snowpoint’s Gym Leader Candice, her gaze locked on him. Her usual twin tails were tucked underneath a beige beanie, covering even her ears in this weather. She massaged her fingers in the cold, shuffled about her seat, and occasionally shook her head in agitation. The wait gnawed on both, but she would be the one to deal with the fallout if this man was let off his leash.

Presently, they heard footsteps upon the stairs.

Two women arrived on deck, one went and sat next to Candice, the other stood in front of Flint. He looked upon a friendly face.

“Champ,” he said, “you’re here.”

“I promised I would be,” said Cynthia.

Flint and Candice exchanged a look of animosity.

“This girl wouldn’t let me leave for the Battle Zone,” he said, “I need to find my brother.”

“This girl is responsible for maintaining law and order. We’re under strict lockdown. There aren’t even any sailors!”

The ensuing silence made it obvious this wasn’t the first time this argument has surfaced, nor the second.

“So Buck is missing?” asked Cynthia.

She received a curt nod.

“After Stark Mountain’s eruption, the entire Battle Zone has gone into lockdown. The only communication they have to the mainland is radio, and as far as they knew he isn’t accounted for,” said Flint, “my only guess is he went off on his own.”

“Then shouldn’t we wait for him to make contact?”

“It’s been four days. My brother may be reckless, but he will not cause unnecessary worries. If he hasn’t checked in by now, he must in serious trouble. If not worse.”

It was not hard to notice Flint’s anxiety seeping through the seams.

Dawn didn’t speak, for she believed it was not her place. However, she expected Cynthia to have responded by now. The woman usually made these decisions at a drop of her hat, but not then. Dawn held Candice’s hand in anticipation. She expected Cynthia to turn to her and say what should be done, but it never came.

The agonising silence eventually passed.

“Flint,” said Cynthia.

“Champ,” said Flint.

“What do you intend to do, when you get there?”

Flint looked up at her.

“I’ll find my brother.”

“How? Do you know where he went? Do you have his tracks?”

She could see Flint’s muscles tensed up.

“I don’t.”

“Do you just intend to chase after ghosts until you find him?”

He stood up, eye-level with her.

“I do,” unblinking, “wouldn’t you?”

Dawn could’ve sworn Cynthia glanced at her.

The woman and Flint exchanged a silent gaze. It was rare to see him like this; there was none of that spark she usually saw in his eyes still present. He meant every word he was saying.

“That’s how it is, then.”

She turned towards Candice.

“Is this dock even operational?”

“No. Everyone’s back to their homes or gone south after the mayor ordered the lockdown. We’re barely running the city with a skeleton crew as it is,” Candice replied.

“You hear that, Flint?”

“I just need a rowboat,” he said, “you must have some lying around.”

“That’s suicide!” Candice protested. “The waters here are too dangerous for trainers to ride their pokemon. A rowboat would flip the moment it gets out there.”

Even Flint couldn’t contest that warning. His eyes turned to the vessel’s front.

“I can operate this ship myself then.”

“If you did, Snowpoint will be left without a vessel that could make the trip again. What if the people there need help from the mainland? What if you need help? That’s assuming you even made it there in the first place.” Candice questioned.

“I’ll bring it back.”

“When? Are you willing to guarantee it?”

They exchanged a look.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

"I saw a few other ferries in the dock,” Cynthia said, “are they all privately owned?”

“Yes, but I don’t think their owners are willing to operate against the lockdown,” said Candice, “if they’re even still around the city.”

“Unsurprising,” Cynthia extended a hand towards Dawn, “I think it’s time we leave. You should come as well, Candice.”

Dawn shook her head in astonishment.

“Are we just leaving?”

"We came here to let Flint know his options.” Cynthia turned to him, expectant. “I expect him to have understood.”

He nodded.

“You got it, champ.”

She flashed a resigned smile at him.

“You should stop calling me champ. It’s been five years.” Nonchalant, she parted the hair fallen over her forehead. It made her feel young; she must admit. “You’re closer to being the champion than I am at this point”

“No can do. There must always be a champ, and I haven’t met anyone else deserving.”

That earned a chuckle out of her.

“Watch yourself out there,” she said.

He only held up a hand in goodbye, before retreating to the other end of the docks. Cynthia left at the same time, Candice and Dawn in tow. The two girls looked to each other, similarly confused.

“What happens now?” asked Candice. “What’s he going to do?”

“Flint wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but he needed to take responsibility for his actions.”

Candice didn’t consider that a satisfying answer.

“What do you mean?”

Cynthia simply waited, expectant. Presently, a loud shriek and revving of an engine filled dead air. A small yacht on the opposite end of the docks raced off out to the bay and disappeared as swift as it appeared, leaving a cross section across the water. They couldn’t make out the driver from here, but that was no mystery.

Candice stood with her mouth slightly ajar.

“He just stole that,” she exclaimed.

“Quicker on his feet than I remember,” Cynthia was almost smiling, “was that a private vessel?”

“All yachts docked here are private property!”

“Good. They’ll have their day in court, later.”

Candice didn’t know what to say to that. She could only follow the woman as they returned to the city square, with Dawn right beside her.

Fading sunrays drifted overhead, they stopped by the entrance of the Snowpoint Temple. Pillars of stone leading up here had fallen into visible disrepair. Unlike most remembered, there were no guards posted.

“Is everyone gone?” asked Dawn.

“There are still a few city policemen left, but they’re at the city centre where most of the people are,” Candice said.

“No guards for the mayor’s office?”

“The mayor left his post two weeks ago. He said he was going to get more funding.”

Cynthia and Dawn shared a glance.

“Where is he, really?”

“Last I heard it was Sunyshore city.”

Cynthia’s lack of surprise said what was necessary.

“He won’t be back until the power grid is fixed then.”

Candice already knew that, but hearing someone else said it made it a lot worse.

Cynthia turned to the temple entrance, examining the web of cracks blooming from atop the nearby pillars. This structure has stood for thousands of years, yet never has it looked closer to collapsing than it did then.

“No news on tracking Regigigas, I take it?”

A disappointing shake of the head.

“With so much manpower directed elsewhere, I don’t think anything but sheer luck would get us an answer, at least soon.”

“You’re holding out here alone?” Dawn asked.

“Oh no, there’s no way.”

Candice’s quick reply prompted an uncharacteristic pause. The more Dawn waited for an answer, the more awkward the silence. Candice flashed her a pleading look, but the anticipation didn’t fade. This even made Cynthia curious, who has ceased her inspection of the structure.

“What’s the matter?” the woman asked.

Candice pulled the front of her beanie down so much it almost covered her eyes.

“Maylene will come over in a bit,” she was murmuring, “she visits.”

“Often?”

Dawn’s question was met with a curt nod, which she escalated with a near-violent embrace. From this nose-rubbing distance, it was obvious how red Candice has become.

“Gosh. Are you two like, together now?”

“Yeah.” Lulled from embarrassment as that answer maybe, Candice couldn’t hide the pride in it.

“Grats.” Dawn finished her suffocating hug, before turning around to her travel companion. “Cynthia, I think it’s about time we leave. We got to give them some space.”

The woman agreed, but she also noticed the look Dawn was giving.

Chapter Text

The Grand Lake Hotel has never seen this much business before. While overall tourism activities across Sinnoh was at an all-time low, the number of continental refugees pouring in from across the region proved unmatched. Unaffected by the recent attacks targeting the bigger cities, the management wasted no time. Nearly a hundred new temporary contractors in the last month, the hotel and restaurant staff moved like patchwork to accommodate the influx of customers. Regardless of the increase in manpower, the number of rooms remained the biggest bottleneck. Even celebrities could only get the bare minimum of lodgings in short notice.

A silhouette darkened the doorstep of room 524.

Looker rang the doorbell. Presently, he shuffled about restlessly in his comically large light brown overcoat, the cufflinks nearly torn, his pink tie rearing from the coat pocket. The only thing not faded was the crow’s feet.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Dawn opened the door in her black cowl neck top. Looker could tell from the blur in her eyes that she hadn’t fully woken up yet. He knew it was nine in the morning.

“Come in, detective.”

He obliged, surveying the interior as he walked in. This was no penthouse, but still fitted with frivolous amenities: different types of ceiling lights, a half-sized fridge, topped off by an electric fireplace. The single king bed on the far side of the room piqued his curiosity, along with two suitcases strewn about, one half open, by the closet. Looker settled across the coffee table from Dawn, who took up the left side of the chaise sofa.

“You said you have something about Roseanne, detective?”

“When she returned to Sinnoh, she’s been holed up in a random hostel in Veilstone City. I have people monitoring her ever since.”

“So, what did you discover?”

“That she was in contact with Rowan throughout her stay in Hoenn, and definitely had a hand in coordinating his intercontinental travel. She also definitely has some link to Cyrus’ escape.”

“Why has she not been arrested then?”

“The boys are doing that as we speak. It took this long because we of how airtight her communications were, and we had to resort to using food deliverers as informants. It took weeks to piece together what we knew, all our evidence coming from hidden cameras.”

Dawn smiled.

“Good job, detective. Can you send that over?”

“Yeah, I’ll send it through your email right now.”

As Looker took out his phone and forward Dawn the attached, he noticed the drizzling sound of water hitting the bathroom floor. It was not new, rather a droning background noise that hadn’t a chance to worm its way to the forefront of his mind until then. Someone’s taking a shower, of course, that much is obvious, in the bathroom nearby.

He tried to shake it off, but couldn’t. The near complete evenness of small vibrations spreading across the stone tiles painted a steady silhouette. The small, localised waterfall poured over the figure standing perfectly still, letting the dripping water wash away the fears and anxiety, if only momentarily.

Eventually, the cascade ceased, snapping the strings of otiose from which he hung.

“You’re not alone?” he asked Dawn, tone unsteady.

She shook her head.

“No, I wouldn’t be able to afford a room like this, especially with the refugee situation ongoing.”

Without warning, the bathroom door on the far side of the room unlocked. Looker felt his heart leaping from his chest, only for his brain to remind it of common courtesy. He steeled himself stiff, eyes unable to unglue from anticipation.

A woman stepped into view. Her long hair cascaded onto her shoulder in waves of golden silk. She was wrapped in a grey bathrobe tied at the hip, betraying the slender figure underneath. Her dark eyes settled upon the guest with a curious look.

Him.

“Excuse me, detective.”

The sound of fingers snapping pulled Looker out of his trance. His head swivelled back towards Dawn on the sofa, whose eyes flashed him a warning scowl. He composed himself, poorly.

“My apologies. I must excuse myself. I’ve emailed you the reports on what our informants captured inside Roseanne’s apartment.”

Looker offered a poorly faked cough, before standing up and bolting towards the door, not even waving goodbye, but he did remember to lock the door as he left.

“He’s in a hurry,” Cynthia commented, heating up her hair with a nearby dryer. “Good news?”

“Yes. The police found enough evidence on Roseanne and they’re making a move on her residence this morning.” Dawn swiped through her phone. “Looker just sent us a bunch of pictures used as evidence. We should look at them together.”

Cynthia dried herself off fully, slotting into her usual black silk dress. She received the pictures on her own phone moments later, and skimmed through them one at a time. Presently, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Come take a look at this.”

The two inspected the same picture. It was shaky, having been taken with a hidden camera, but the scene was still legible. They saw the subject, Roseanne, in her usual lab coat. In the background were various testing instruments, stacks of papers, the computer, and various baubles. Cynthia pointed at an odd, cylindrical object almost out of frame. It was a shade of purple, with various open-ended spikes coming out of it, with a red extension at one end.

“What am I looking at?” asked Dawn.

“I can’t say for sure. The picture quality isn’t exactly great, but if my guess is correct, then that might just be the Azure Flute.” 

“Never heard of it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to have. It’s an old legend about the Sinnoh of the past, when civilisation was barely booming in the region. It’s been said to unlock the unimaginable power of creation,” Cynthia explains, pulling up a few of her older research. “It’s been lost for centuries. I wonder if this was what Roseanne came to Hoenn for.”

“And this is above even Dialga and Palkia?”

“Indeed, much more powerful, if the stories are to be believed. Something responsible for the concept of existence itself, a tale passed down through millennia.” Cynthia swiped through a few more surveillance pictures. “But the more recent ones do not show it at the same location. So, either it has been moved, or it’s not there anymore. I have a bad feeling it’s the latter.”

“What do we do?”

Cynthia went and opened up her suitcase, probing through it until she found two lockets. They were of the same design, made from simple construction, notable for the fact that their chains were made of one very thick hemp string each, frayed by the passage of time. She handed one to Dawn, who examined it.

“This design kind of looks like that of the flute we just saw.” The girl asked commented on the texture of the pendant, running her fingers over it. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a gift from my parents when I came of age. They claimed these to have been family heirlooms for many generations, providing good luck. Secretly though, I’ve always felt they were more than that.” Cynthia held the other next to Dawn’s, showing off their remarkable likeness despite the fact that they were handmade. “The similarity between these and the flute cannot have been a coincidence.”

“You think these will help somehow?”

“Well, I don’t think it’d hurt. Keep that one, Dawn, I don’t need two, just in case you run into whatever it is these people are up to.”

“You’re giving me your family heirloom? Is this a proposal?”

Dawn giggled at her own joke, but the complete lack of reaction from Cynthia caused her to gulp. Their gazes met, lingered, a delicate thread hanging in the air. Dawn had looked into those grey eyes so many times, yet it had never occurred to her just how much depth she could see there, if she just kept looking.

“Would you like it to be?” Cynthia offered a subtle, sultry response, shaking Dawn out of her daze.

Dawn found herself looking at the ground.

“Yes,” she stammered, “I would.”

“Then so it shall be.” Cynthia drew the girl in and placed a kiss on her forehead. “But that’s a matter for the future.” She put on the locket. “For now, this is a lead. If the legends are true, the top of Mt. Coronet is where the Azure Flute can be used. We should go there, before Roseanne’s collaborators have a chance to-”

Dawn’s phone rang, interrupting the conversation. The girl hastily picked up and answered. The call lasted only half a minute.

“That was Candice. Something’s big is happening in Veilstone. The entire city has gone dark, and no one can reach Maylene or the mayor.”

The two stared at each other. Cynthia’s lips twitched, but a nod was what she gave.

“I’ll see you later, then.”

She headed out, leaving her valise in the room. Dawn watched as she left, clutching the pendant.

“See you soon.”

Chapter Text

What are the signs of civilisation?

Is it nostalgic architecture? Is it social stratification? Is it the urban comfort of being able to stroll down the street to get an ice cream sundae on a Saturday?

Regardless, Candice didn’t feel very civilised then.

One never knew how many people lived in a city. Cars on the streets, or buses for those more mindful, gave an impression of traffic. An average of two per personal vehicle, and a few dozens for a public one, meant one couldn’t see more than a few hundreds at most. If every single resident and worker was forced to flood the streets, millions and millions, that was a city’s true population, its lifeblood.

Veilstone’s lifeblood spilled.

Candice watched on as emergency workers loaded countless onto their ambulances, at least the ones still alive. She got here as fast as she could, after receiving a distress signal on the radio, only to be greeted by a metropolis in ruin. A high-rise, hilly city of skyscrapers, a monument to excess, now lay bare in bricks and steel. She spotted a shallow crater in the middle of the city from where she stood, any building inside and by its immediate vicinity levelled without warning. Candice sent for help to anyone she could reach, then continued on her scooter into the ruins. It was south of where she arrived, only a few kilometres away. As she raced across the tattered streets, she could hear calls for help from survivors, all of which she chose to ignore.

She stopped at the edge of the crater. Debris from nearby collapsed buildings prevented most conventional efforts to go further in. Twisted metal and loose concrete threatened to slide further off base, dropping chunks of building material onto those below. The structural damage was immense, as if all the foundation was ripped out from beneath itself, causing a catastrophic cascade.

Candice released her mamoswine, commanding it to work away at the wreckage blocking her advance. She had yet to say a word, for she had no one to talk to, yet her lips bled, something she didn’t notice until tasting the iron on her tongue. Her nervousness caught up to her psyche, as she caught herself shivering.

It was death, in the sort of numbers that one should only read about in skirmishes during times of war. Numbers on a page wasn’t the same, though. She tried her best not to look around. The cries were harrowing, but it was the mangled bodies who could no longer beg that elevated her breathing. She swallowed, fighting the sick rising in her throat. Did she know any of these people? She must have, at least a few.

She forced herself to look, but couldn’t find. There were just so many. What was she even doing, trying to carve a way in? Who was she trying to save, if she was wilfully neglecting those she already could?

The mamoswine finished breaking down the blockage, sending Candice on her way. She could see the ruins of the Veilstone gym in the distance, causing her to rev up her moped. The tires bumped and brushed against wrecked gravel as it sped up, until there was no more road to travel on. Forced to stop, she climbed over the rubble, anticipation palpating with every step. She had been here before, too many times.

The building didn’t survive the upheaval; its remnants were shattered glass and crushed concrete, strewn about on the solitary concaved hill. Candice summoned her weavile and mamoswine, commanding them to break away at the obstacle. Impatient, she joined in as well, albeit significantly less effective. The heat of the mid-winter day seeped into her skin with every bead of sweat she wiped off. There was a rescue effort happening all around, louder sirens than she’d ever heard, if she could hear it at all. The heat in her ears blocked out all distractions, even the cuts on her fingers or the bruises on her arm.

Presently, they made it through. There was a way into the death trap, one she took with great caution. Her beating heart urged her to run in with reckless abandon, but her present faculties made it clear that her labours would be for naught if her carelessness resulted in a secondary collapse. Squatting, she slowly crawled through the makeshift tunnel, scraping her knees in the process. Wincing, Candice continued in, until she heard a whimper.

“Maylene?” she called out, slowly pushing away the chunk of wall next to her.

She didn’t get an answer. Shining her phone torch inward, she saw a human form squirming on the far end. It took her a minute to reach him at this speed, but he was still alive. Her weavile moved the fallen gym equipment from atop him.

“Ms. Candice,” he managed. “It’s good to see you.”

She helped pull him away. He was barely able to get to his knees, panting, sweating.

“Darren.” She brushed some of the dirt off him. “Who was in here with you?”

“Ms. Maylene, and Rafael. We were cleaning up the place when it was hit.”

Darren shifted his weight and cried out in pain, yet he saw on her face a blank, muted expression.

“Do you have your pokemon with you?” He nodded in response. “Let it help you out of here.”

Darren released his machoke, who helped him onto his feet. He limped towards the exit. Turning his head momentarily, their eyes met.

“Good luck, Ms. Candice. I’ll try to get more people here to help.”

She gave an affirmed nod, before continuing her search. Another ten metres inward, there was noise: a struggling, pained breathing, accompanied by muffled speech and the movement of rubble. Carefully, Candice had her weavile dig and scratch its way further, until her flashlight revealed the small clearing up front.

“Maylene?”

“Candice!”

The Veilstone City’s Gym Leader was in her usual attire of tank top, sweatpants, and fingerless gloves, except significantly more bloodied, bruised, and torn. She was kneeling over a young man currently trapped beneath a pile of debris. Candice recognised him as Rafael. A slight shift of movement due to the distraction was enough to cause him to cry out, as the slab of concrete pressed onto his lower half.

“Help me,” said Maylene, “he’s been under here for so long, his legs might be dead.”

Candice rushed to assist, and their combined strength was able to momentarily free the man’s lower half from the rubble, before the weavile pulled him into the clear. Rafael stifled his scream as his body was dragged across the lane, yet he remained conscious.

It took them another 10 minutes to safely exit the collapsed building. Darren had brought more first responders to the scene, who didn’t hesitate in taking Rafael away. The two girls stood by, panting, sweating, sore.

“Where are your pokemons?” Candice asked.

“I left them at home. I was just going to do some body training today.”

Maylene groaned, slowly dropping to her knees in apparent exhaustion. Candice helped her onto her scooter, before starting it again.

“Hold on,” she commanded.

Candice felt Maylene’s toned arms wrapped around her waist, and she nodded to herself as the vehicle blitzed away. There were worries, still, even if Maylene was too tired to acknowledge them. They were not any closer to figuring out what happened here.

As she continued to head towards the outskirts, the scenes of disaster began to fade. This city, hewn from rock, lay in rubble. If Maylene could muster a protest, it would be one to implore Candice to stop and help those around them, who were drowning in suffering all too familiar. Candice could not do that. The girl behind her, whose bloodstained cheeks were staining the back of her shirt, was everything that mattered. It was selfishness beyond reproach, but she could not stand to lie to herself in times like this. If she hadn’t beelined to that building, Maylene would still be struggling to get out of that hellhole because she’d refuse to leave somebody behind. What would have happened had Candice stopped to help others?

She snapped out of her weary musings to focus on where she was going. Naturally, she looked forward.

The devastation has already faded into the background. There was no place for worrying about others, at least until she delivered Maylene to a hospital. However, something else stood out. In front of her, to the distant, much unlike the surrounding desolation, was a skyscraper. A familiar eyesore it was, conspicuous its pristine condition. The Galactic Veilstone Building, in all of its gold and blue garishness, stood tall on the northern hillside, seemingly untouched by the catastrophe that has overtaken the rest of the city. Candice knew most of its workers had been given leave, but there was not a drop of activity that she could spot. Not even a light, just an omen.

She reached for her phone and dialled Dawn’s number.

Chapter Text

Frigid winds whistled atop the peaks of Mt. Coronet. Despite the massive mountain range splitting the entire continent in half, few loitered here except the local daredevils. Its peak snowed year-round, but the slopes are tall and cold enough for the skiing needs of most. As winter approached, one would be hard-pressed to find much human activity here with the risk of avalanche, especially since Snowpoint City has shut down its tourism industry due to recent events.

Spear Pillar stood, its majestic significance and flagrant disrepair everlasting. To get here from ground level required more than a thousand steps, and he was not a young man any longer. The air thinned with the elevation, as his lungs protested every step he took, but it would not be much longer. There it was: the flat, remarkably solid foundation of stone and concrete from before time memorial. He wiped the sweat off his brow, blinking at the screeching wind surging between the broken marble columns. The gust almost knocked him off his feet, and he had to steady himself in fear of tumbling down the endless steps up which he had just trudged through.

Rowan felt a wave of release as his feet were now on bricks instead of rocks, continuing his brief stride towards the far end of the abandoned structure. There, he saw a ritual carving on the floor, surrounding by eight columns in various state of ruin. It had been so long since he had been here. The journey itself aside, this place had been condemned by the authorities since the events of the two Red Chains four years prior. However, the few guards who tried to stop his march had been dealt with swift and precise violence. The walk was a far greater challenge than they had been. He would have preferred help, but the legendary pokemon in his possession might regain too much free will if he let them out that long, and his aching soles were what he had to show for it.

He stopped in the middle of the scene. Beneath him was the summoning triangle, nested in a faded square meant to contain the leaking power, forming an ancient altar. Cyrus was too foolhardy to do the necessary research, but Rowan certainly wasn’t. Taking everyone’s spirits was nonsensical. That sort of fanaticism was what caused his predictable failure. As the previously most decorated professor of the entire continent, Rowan wasn’t going to let such nihilism cloud his judgment. Who’d care if his scientific career was marred by baseless accusations, if the ultimate power of creation was in his hands. He could do anything. There was plenty of time to think about all the possible exploits. Opening the ever-trusty briefcase by his side, Rowan pulled out an artefact. Impossibly bizarre in its shape and construction, the Azure Flute was red on the handling end, with thick, hollow spikes of varying length protruding from its frame. It felt like a shell in the hand, but no known life form would produce something like this. Shaking off natural and professional curiosity, instrument in hand, Rowan wiped the business end with a handkerchief, then took a deep breath. He placed his lips on the mouthpiece, then blew.

Presently, not even the wind stirred.

He pulled away, staring at the artefact in his hands. He looked about, expecting his surroundings to have changed, but left disappointed. A few more attempts accomplished little. In his rage, he raised the flute above his head and contemplated throwing it, before reluctantly lowering it down, dejected.

“Having trouble?”

Those callous words cracked his hearing like a whip. His head snapped backward. This wasn’t a random stranger happening upon his operations, but someone far more familiar. Rowan saw a silhouette rose into view as she ascended the stairs on the far end of Spear Pillar.

She walked, each step was deliberate, calculated, accentuated. The fur trimmings at the end of her thick coat fluttered, catching the wind beneath her feet. The blackness of her attire: her scarf, the V-neck beneath, her pointed heels, and even the teardrop ornaments defying gravity on the side of her head contrasted those impossibly long, golden tresses reaching her knees even as they curled and splayed like a lion’s mane, threatening to eat him alive. One foot in front of the other, she marched into view, her eyes perfectly levelled, glaring, preying, prowling.

“What are you doing here?” Rowan barked. His movement stopped as his back made contact with one of the pillars, only then realising he had been unconsciously backing up. Grabbing his tie, the man collected himself and stepped forward; the grip on his suitcase tightened.

Cynthia paused her approach at the opposite pillar. She crossed her arms and stared down at him with visible disgust. Rowan didn’t recall her being much taller than he was, or at all, yet he couldn’t help but avoid her condescending stare.

“For the longest time I couldn’t figure out your plan,” she began, her tone cold and full of disdain, “to me, collecting legendary pokemon didn’t seem like a productive pastime, knowing how difficult they are to control for an extended period of time. You then used them to break Cyrus out of the Distortion World, then even helped him recover his loyal lackeys. You and he shared little in terms of beliefs, it didn’t make sense.”

“Do you think you really know me that well?” Rowan recovered some poise. He loosened his neck tie, despite the weather. “My reasons are my own. We hadn’t a real conversation for nearly a decade.”

To his surprise, she nodded.

“We never meshed, you and I; I knew that even when I was still a child who looked up to you. We’re too different, polar opposites, even.” She unbuttoned the top of her coat, revealing the familial pendant hung from her neck, lightly dangling in the breeze of the mountain top. Rowan stared at it, wide-eyed. “You recognize this, don’t you?”

“That’s the Azure Flute! Or, at least, a smaller version of it.”

Cynthia unbuttoned the rest of her coat, revealing her trainer belt.

“All I ever wanted was to share a quiet life with the people I love.” She clutched the necklace. “But it seems the destiny of circumstance has been forced upon me yet again, and you’re responsible.”

Cynthia stepped onto the altar. The pillars surrounded her, cutting the wind into a roar. Instinctively, Rowan mirrored her movement, opposing her at the tip of the engraving. He opened his briefcase, revealing his own trainer belt. He admired it with great longing, like the memory of an old friend. Putting it on, it occurred to him how much worse it fit him then. Nevertheless, he caressed. The leather was worn, but had aged well. Wearing it made him feel young, full of energy and doe-eyed expectations for the world. For a split second, he had doubts.

Rowan raised his head to meet her gaze, impossibly piercing yet gentle. He remembered it, too well. Fourteen years ago, when she walked into his lab asking for help, he saw an earnestness and potential in those eyes that threatened his ambitions. He contemplated snuffing them out right then and there, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Was that his greatest regret? Was that even a regret at all?

At present, he stood, face-to-face with the shadows of his past, yet he couldn’t suppress the immense sense of pride.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Cynthia,” he admitted, “more than anyone would expect.”

“I acknowledge your assessment.”

Her words were of tact, yet the icy articulation caused his stomach to drop. It was the only logical response, he told himself, but was that what he had hoped to hear?

“You were my student, once. You say you know me, then you must know why I had to do what I did.”

“You consider yourself worthy of attention, but how much you received didn’t match up.” The subtext was venomous. “Pride is the least of needs, but the most of wants. You weren’t any different.”

For the first time in a long time, Rowan found himself grinning. Involuntarily, the tension reached its ultimate release.

“That’s nearly all of it.” He mindlessly chuckled to himself. “Still, deep down, there was another inadequacy.”

“More than mere egotism?” she prodded for a confession.

He thought about it.

“I just thought.” His smile disappeared. “I just thought that you deserved someone more impressive to look up to.”

Cynthia scowled. There was only anger and sheer disbelief in the ensuing pause.

“You dare blame this on me?”

“I told you: it’s only a small part.” He reached for his belt.

“Fine.” She plucked a pokeball from her waist, twirling it between her slender fingers. “You crave the eye of history, don’t you? Let’s see if you deserve it.”

Chapter Text

Still air suffocates those too frightened to breathe it.

Dawn’s sneakers trekked mud across the marble floor of Team Galactic HQ, her LED torch shone an impressive, concentrated beam across the empty lobby. The ray scrutinised every nook and cranny of the sleek, sterile space, light bouncing off the gauche metallic plate carrying the Galactic branding hanging on the wall.

Dawn’s initial search revealed nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the dead silence. These walls had always been lifeless, now just without the façade. She didn’t feel like wiping her shoes at the doormat before entering, a small act of teenage rebellion. Strange blue moss and cracked soil carried on her sole smeared the carpeting at great pace.

“That’s going to take forever to get out,” she mused to herself.

The thought was fleeting. Dawn directed the torch light towards her own tracks. Her head craned slightly as she lowered herself to inspect the flooring further. It was spotless, aside from her meddling. These offices should’ve been shut down for days. Without any cleaning staff, there should at least be a lot of dust around, even if it wasn’t immediately visible.

She swabbed the floor with her finger for inspection. It was cleaned recently.

Dawn guided her light along the panel walls. Presently, she located a light switch, but a digital one. From what she could tell, it required a fingerprint to scan. Her own didn’t match, but she did try. Sighing, she narrowly avoided the protruding angular reception desks, and head towards the set of elevators in the middle of the building. More control screens with arcane locks awaited her. She blinked once, then a few more times. Knocking on a panel revealed a message:

“Please swipe keycard.”

Dawn’s muddy sneakers continued to plaster the scene as she kicked open the locked cabinets underneath the U-shaped receptionist desk one by one. Ten minutes of vandalism produced a lanyard and a limp, with a small cylindrical device attached to the end of the former. Hovering it in front of the elevator controls did the trick, but with so many upper levels to choose from, she couldn’t immediately make a decision. She idly tapped her knee.

“Which floor would Saturn be on?”

The twenty-third floor greeted her with the unassuming ding of the folding gold-crusted elevator door. She’d roll her eyes, but they were drawn to the much more striking, faded streak on the thick, wool carpet. Pulling her jacket up, Dawn took a concerned peek over the opening. The trail led directly into the lunit executive office, vision into which was blocked by the near-shut double doors. She checked the vicinity with her torch, revealing no lurking secrets.

Stepping onto the hallway, she saw that the trail originated from the opposite elevator, the pair out of six that would even reach this floor. It occurred to her that she hasn’t breathed. The forceful exhale from her lungs caused a mild burn, as Dawn walked on as silently as she could. The rich, dark wood doors creaked open, letting her enter.

Her eyes followed the afternoon light, watching it pierce the glass window and bounce off the silver-rimmed chandelier. She trod on the spot where it hit the carpet, her gaze beholding the centrepiece.

Saturn was slumped over on his mahogany desk, face slightly to the side, arms hung lifeless by his side. He was still wearing the same Vanquish suit that he wore to all his TV appearances, but the charcoal fabric was marred by the red originated from the puncture by his abdomen: the end, and beginning, of the ever-inviting blood trail.

Dawn approached the body and kneeled down. Her eyes squinted upon noticing the stump where his left index finger was. She manually breathed again, easing the churn in her stomach. A slight head tilt caused her to flinch as their eyes met. His were cold, static, and shock-frozen since time of death, while hers darted about in search of imminent danger. Alas, she found no rational explanation for her anxiety. Closing her eyes, she closed his as well. The sensation of her fingers on his skin caused her to shudder. It was so cold.

“I’m sorry.”

Dawn was no coroner, but she did know that in this climate-controlled environment, a body would start to grow putrid in a few days. He couldn’t have been dead for that long. She did a quick check of his pockets and came away with a phone she couldn’t unlock, a leatherbound diary, and a small rouge-encrusted note ripped from said diary.

Opening up the journal, she found the latest entry marked the morning of three days prior. Saturn expressed great anxiety concerning recent events, and forcing all his workers to take a vacation with the exception of his personal assistant.

She kept reading, even the note.

Presently, Dawn stared at her own reflection. The glistening elevator floor was unblemished, aside from the coagulated pool of blood on which she stood. Walking in, she saw the bloody fingerprints which Saturn left as he punched in the password to unlock basement access. His blood was on her hands then.

The elevator hit B2 soon enough. A white hallway greeted her, leading towards the massive concrete wall separating random wanderers from secrets kept within. A pair of imposing steel doors emphasised the off-white paint, whose console demanded the visitor scan their biometrics before allowed entry. Dawn obliged.

A satisfying beep responded to the sight of her iris, and the door slowly slid open.

She let out a breath she didn’t realise she held. How Saturn got her biometrics was a mystery, but his decision to use them as backup proved prescient. He was right to be fearful, it turned out, but none congratulated the paranoid.

Dawn recognised some of the machinery, which lined this laboratory wall-to-wall, from her raid of this same building four years ago. She couldn’t identify any back then, but Lucas had taught her a lot about lab work since then, even if she didn’t pay as much attention as she should have. The most common equipment seemed to be big, cubical machines with yellow vats connected to the top, apparently genetic sequencers for pokemon. Further in were biome replicator pods, encased in large cylindrical glass, capable of creating micro-environments to observe rare pokemon evolutions. There were even specialised biomechanical analysis devices in the form of full-suite chambers with various wires and patches hanging from them.

As she continued her walk further in, room to room, the smooth, sleek interior walls made of composite glass gave her shudders. While most of the machineries here were neatly wrapped as they would after an orderly exit, some clearly looked to have been used recently with very little disregard for reorganisation. Despite that, they still shone, glint, and reflected just like any other. One could even see incoming projectiles.

Dawn jumped backwards, as a column of toxic sludge barely missed her. It landed on a glass table nearby, corroding the one-polished surface at an alarming rate.

“Nice dodge.”

From the next room, emerged two women. Fiery red and dull magenta imbrued in their hair, the accents of their jumpsuits, and even their expressions. They approached Dawn from both sides, their accelerated strides punctuated their swagger.

“I see your prisoner’s outfit has become a fashion statement,” said Dawn, slowly backing away. “You two are going to start dying your tongue next?”

An eye twitch was the immediate response.

“That’s quite enough lip coming from you,” said Mars, flexing the crobat perched on her shoulders, fangs still dripping acid. “I don’t know how you got down here, but your meddling ends right now.”

“I’ve been counting the days.” Jupiter made a show of licking her lips, her gruesome skuntank hissed and glared by her heels. “1124 scratches on the wall. All because of you.”

Dawn reached for her belt, but stayed her hand.

“Were you or Cyrus the ones responsible for the bombings?”

“Yes, I’ve always hated Eterna. What an eyesore,” gloated Jupiter.

“Also, an excuse to watch Saturn shakes in his boot, other than killing him, of course,” boasted Mars. “The rat didn’t know what hit him.”

Dawn blinked several times.

“What about Veilstone?”

The two women looked at each other.

“What about Veilstone?” they repeated.

“You were here for days, weren’t you? Did you not feel anything?”

“What are you trying to pull here, little girl? Have you lost it?” Mars’ golbat growled as its trainer’s mood darkened.

“They didn’t know,” Dawn murmured. She turned to the women. “You at least should know where Cyrus is.”

“Why would we tell you?” Jupiter threatened.

The ground shook with anger under the immense pressure of six massive limbs. A lizard body slithered into view with ethereal fluidity, drenched in violet smoke. Two massive, tattered wings expanded to envelope all sources of light, various crimson tendrils accentuating their animosity. What looked like gold, metallic armour tightly clasped around the head, neck, and legs exuded a nightmarish vestige, causing Mars and Jupiter’s pokemon to cower behind their owner’s shaking form. Cold sweat dropped from their brow.

“You know, even in his dying breath, with his penmanship soddened by blood, Saturn wished you two no harm. He was sorry for his betrayal of your faith,” Dawn said, her soft, bitter voice cut with precision, as if commanding the massive monster behind her. “I, however, am not sorry.”

Chapter Text

The sanctity of a domain persisted only as long as there were stalwarts to uphold it.

These mountains remained untouched for thousands of years. Technology had regressed when it came to traversing these winding paths, and only ruins marked the nameless civilisation that once inhabited this continent. There had been archaeological digs and expeditions aplenty, hoping to uncover the secrets imbued within this derelict site, but the mountain itself resisted. For millions of years, it had stood, and for millions more, it would stand, impervious to humanity’s best efforts. Mankind’s quarrels would not cease, undying as time itself. Today was not a different day.

The hulking giant clawed at the earth, picking up chunks of rocks in its massive fingers, before flinging them with such velocity and control. The curve did not catch its enemy off-guard. Garchomp spun itself into a missile, digging underground with immense speed, dodging the projectile. The same could not be said for its trainer. Even though she saw it coming, Cynthia hadn’t the reaction to escape unscathed. Her body fell to the ground just in time without much grace, feeling the boulder pass atop her, tearing the atmosphere apart as it flew off the mountaintop. She heaved, understanding that death just ran its fingers through her hair.

Her garchomp wasted no time in its counterattack, and propelling itself from underground directly into the torso of the giant. Despite Regigigas’ massive size, the impact had it stumbling backward, the gems on its front flashing various threatening colours. Its moss-covered legs struggled to keep up with this level of mobility, which allowed the landshark to keep up the assault. Bearing razor-sharp talons, the garchomp rushed to hack at its foe with deadly precision, tearing apart stone like flesh. The giant roared in pain; a massive, blocky arm swatted to retaliate. In its outrage, the shark could not manoeuvre, as the brutal swing sent it flying. Despite the damage, it hissed in return, getting back on its feet.

“What are you waiting for? Kill it!” Rowan screamed at the top of his lungs, but the legendary titan struggled to act. Its flashing eyes reddened in fury, uncontrollable.

“You’re at the end of your ropes, Rowan,” Cynthia said.

She picked herself up, blood drying by the edge of her lips. She might have avoided being splattered on the side of the mountain mere seconds ago, but the injuries sustained in the opening bouts of this match left its mark on her, as well as the rest of her squad.

“You’re a dead woman walking,” he screeched at her, as he recalled the titan back to its containment, “I suggest you run off now, before you end up like all the meddlers before.”

Cynthia failed to muster a sarcastic smile.

“It was you at the Battle Zone, wasn’t it?” she asked, her right arm clutching her abdomen. “You were the reason for it going dark, and the Stark Mountain volcano erupting.”

“That was me.” Rowan’s laugh was interrupted by his own panting, resulting in a small cough. “So-called ‘Frontier Brains’ running like headless chickens the moment someone actually took their ask to task. It was almost too easy. That is, if it weren’t for the clown.”

“Clown?” A brief pause. “Flint did reach you.”

“A meddlesome encounter indeed,” he gave a reluctant nod. “He came after his good-for-nothing brother and caught me in the act. I had planned to take some more time to prepare, but his presence forced me to accelerate the plan.”

Cynthia slowed her breath, dreading the question she had to ask.

“What happened to him?”

“Is it really such a mystery to you?” A wicked smirk was the confirmation of her worst fears.

“No.” She eyed him, expressionless. “How many people have you killed?”

“Who knows? Only a dozen personally, but I’m sure the bombs and the volcano did a lot of work.” His voice wasn’t calm as his words would suggest, instead its timbre continued to rise, until it was indistinguishable from a shrill. “You have no idea of the taste of freedom that one gets from living on the fringe, my dear student. I answer to no one. With this much power, there are no limits. Fifty years of working within society’s shackles was enough. I am free, as soon as I get rid of you.”

Cynthia staggered forward.

“But that’s not true, isn’t it? That’s the lie you tell yourself.” She shook her head. “You’re not satisfied with just being free. What’s the point of power if not to be feared? Cyrus doesn’t listen to you. I know that much. You have a liaison.”

“What,” Rowan stammered. “Who told you that?”

“You took responsibility for the Stark Mountain eruption, yet you don’t have Heatran with you. It’s in someone else’s hands now, and that someone certainly isn’t Cyrus.”

He scowled, and elected to put the conversation on pause. Regice emerged from its containment, its crystalline body basting in the chilly air. Its arms spun, charging up a bright beam between its massive fingers, yellow eyes flashing in the distance, following its target. Cynthia commanded her garchomp to intercept, but the speed with which the ice beam shot out was far higher than expected. Mid motion, it engulfed the land shark in a frigid prison, before shattering the enemy within.

Cynthia retracted her defeated pokemon, mumbling a curse underneath her breath. She should have expected the inevitable tricks.

“Amateurish,” Rowan gloated. “After our last meeting, I made sure to come prepared. You’re too famous for your own good, girl.”

She spat.

“There’s a price for such gimmicks.”

Cynthia unleashed her lucario onto the battlefield. The bipedal canine let out a roar as it took a fighting stance, its blue and black fur coat fluttering in the howling wind. Its arms crossed and unfurled, while its legs shifted into a frenetic dance, channeling its aura into a substantial boost of attacking prowess.

“I am not so green as to stick to ineffectual flailing.” Rowan returned Regice to its imprisonment. “You are simply unaware of the possibilities. Tell me, dear student, have you ever seen this?”

Another golem emerged from Rowan’s pokeball, but it was not one ever before seen in scientific papers. Its round, yellow body sparkled, radiating the immense pure electricity from which it was constructed. To its sides, two flickering appendages expanded and retracted into lightning bolts, crackling under the cloudy skies. Regieleki’s seven pink eyes flashed in anticipation, emitting a thunderous glow, causing sizzling static in the atmosphere.

“This is the fastest pokemon to have ever existed,” Rowan gloated. “Faster than the avatar of god itself, the embodiment of pure lightning. It is the apex of Regigigas’ creation. You are simply no match.”

Cynthia glanced at her energised lucario. Its red eyes met hers without hesitation. Without a second thought, it charged forward. Rowan did not waste more words, as lightning itself cracked the sky, striking at the canine. Incredibly, the lucario is able to match the blazing attacks.

“Your extreme speed is impressive, but to actually hit Regieleki, that thing will need to expose itself at some point, and it simply does not possess the power to take me out in one move. The retaliation will be your doom.”

Cynthia closed her eyes, and clutched at the teardrop ornament on her chest. It shone, revealing a small, circular gem inside. Translucent orange, a swirling string of blue and red occupied its middle. Presently, luminous rays projected towards her lucario, causing it to glow a cosmic purple.

Rowan could barely cover his eyes in shock and horror, as he saw the shape of his enemies shift beneath the churning energy. More spikes appear at the back of all four of lucario’s paws, as crimson streaks took over the end of its limbs as well as the appendages at the back of its head, which had grown far. Black veins ran across its limbs, as golden fur completely swallowed up its once slim tail.

“What is-”

Before Rowan could finish his sentence, the canine disappeared from sight with blinding speed, which even Regieleki could not follow. One, two, numerous hits landed on the yellow golem as it ragdolled through the air in a downward trajectory. Each punch boomed and burst, machine gun fire ripping apart the teetering serenity of this sacred site. Down, down, down the beating went until it hit the very ground from which it started, yet the pummeling continued.

It was not until a crater had been forcefully carved out of these hallowed grounds, did the relative tranquility return. The Mega-Lucario jumped up from the crevice, leaving its handiwork in the dirt, joining its trainer’s side.

Cynthia limped forward, leaning on her broken left heel, wincing every time the breeze hit the open wound on her bare shoulder. Rowan watched her approach, grinding his teeth, clenching his fists.

“This isn’t over,” he exclaimed. “My golems will bury you, and that dog of yours with you.”

“Yet you refuse to act,” she said, no more than two metres away then. “You can’t control them anymore, can you? Your capture and command of these legendary pokemon hinges on the latest technology baked into those special pokeballs you’ve been abusing, and they’re required to be charged with the micro-fissile energy stored in that suitcase.”

“How… do you know about that?” he stuttered.

She locked her gaze on his, and conveyed an indescribable expression.

“I read all your research, professor. Even the ones you published under a pseudonym after being outed from the scientific community. I always have.”

Rowan blinked. Thoughts and regrets invaded his mind like a broken dam. Presently, his entire form slouched.

“I see.”

He recalled the defeated Regieleki into its containment.

Presently, he returned all of his pokeballs into the briefcase, before flopping backwards on his arse. Cynthia also recalled her pokemon, but elected to stand.

“Give me the briefcase.”

Rowan complied. Flicking open the tabs, Cynthia examined its content, and was satisfied with the result.

“What will you do now?” he asked. “Aside from throwing me in jail.”

She glared at him.

“Jail is too good for you, but I can’t be the one who decides that.”

She brought out a few handcuff zip ties to restrain Rowan, along with a dirty rag ripped from her own dress to keep him quiet. Having secured the prisoner, she took the Azure Flute from his pockets. Wiping off the red mouthpiece, she walked to the middle of the stone ritual circle. Closing her eyes, she blew into the instrument, while her fingers played its protruding keys with some difficulty. Eventually, an eerie tune came out, its hollow notes echoed across the landscape.

The next time her eyes opened, there was a glowing stairway before her. She glanced up to see a platform a few dozen steps high, radiating a faint heat like it was pyrophanous.

“Stay here, professor. I’ll be right back,” Cynthia said.

To her surprise, Rowan was struggling, trying but unable to escape the bounds. She kneeled down next to him, head tilted, and saw him gnawing on the cloth, staring at her with great panic in his dark eyes. Confused, she removed the muzzle from his mouth, but before she could ask, he screamed at her:

“Lookout!”

Her pupils dilated. Her ears registered a loud but precise noise, then nothing. There was no time to react. She only gasped, not even a grunt, and clutched her chest.

Red. Her dress was red.

Red. Her palm was red.

Red. Her vision was red.

Red. Her…

Chapter Text

She felt her heart clench.

Presently, it passed with a sigh. Carolina was used to the random failings of her old age, even if they were tiresome. Was the wisdom ever worth the weight? She shook her head. This was a bad sign, if nothing else.

The doorbell rang.

“Be right there,” she murmured, hopeful that the guest would be able to hear.

Carol grabbed the cane by the side of her couch, and pushed her frail frame upright. With any luck, perhaps she wouldn’t have to pull out the floor desk for this visit. Her legs shook, forcing her to lean on her walking stick even more, but even those arms shivered. The cold had not been kind to the old woman, even if the snow had cleared out temporarily. Bones didn’t thaw like skin did.

With some struggle, she slid open the front door, to find a man of considerable height. She could see many strands of grey interweaving his spiky, dark blue hair. Dressed in an immaculate black suit, he adjusted his solid pattern of a tie, whose colour matched his hair.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Cyrus flashed her a smile that would never reach his eyes. When he spoke, only his lips moved.

“Indeed, ma’am. I heard that you’re the elder of this town?”

She looked up at him, studying his features, blinking.

“True enough, young man. What is it that you need?”

“May I get help accessing the Celestic Ruins?” he asked. “I have learnt of its closure during this time of year, and only you have the authority to visitors.”

Carol glanced behind him. The moonlight casted a long shadow on this man.

“Why would you need to go in there, young man? Tourist season is over.”

“I’m a business investor, ma’am. Should the inspection go well, I promise to bring prosperity to this town. I know that Celestic has lost many of its young work force over the years to bigger cities, but I also believe in its potential. I want to get ahead of that, spearhead the movement, if you will.”

She returned a courteous shake of the head.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cyrus, but this town doesn’t need your help.”

His grin sank.

“Old crow. You’ve known all along.” The measure in his voice was gone.

“Only after I saw your face. I fear I regret opening the door, alas, my hospitality got the better of me,” she replied. “My granddaughter visits enough. She’s told me about your exploits, and to look out for you. I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you here, but I still remember your face from all those years ago, despite my age.”

“Then you know refusing me wouldn’t work.” He crossed his arms behind his back, raising his chest. “I will take what I am due, by force if I must, even though I’d prefer not to.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes.

“Why do you want access to the ruins, young man?”

“That’s not for you to know, old crow,” he hissed out. “But I will tell you this. It is not why I’m on your doorstep. I could’ve forced my way in easily.”

“Then why are you here, speaking to me? Do you have some sort of gripe with me? Perhaps my granddaughter. She is not here right now.”

“All the more preferable Ms. Cynthia is not here.” Cyrus expression remained firm, yet Carolina could see his shoulders relaxing. “I’m here for you, crow, because you have something of mine.”

“Oh?” she feigned ignorance.

“The Origin Ball.”

Carolina clutched her cane a bit tighter.

“Young man. You know not which you seek.”

Cyrus’ stared at her.

“Do I?” There was a timbre of escalating anger in his voice. “Your granddaughter took the Red Chains from me to create it, and you dare call me ignorant?”

“That is why you are ignorant. You are playing with forces you cannot control. You were naïve to have tried once, a fool to try again.”

He didn’t answer, instead loosened his dress shirt collar with a finger. He chuckled, then laughed, then cackled. The old woman could only watch as the foundation of her house seemed to shake with each howl.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” she said, impatient.

It took him a full minute to cool down, a cough or two at the end of his wordless tirade. He turned toward her, not a curve on his lips.

“I must admit, you were respectable in your time. Unearthing the Origin Ore was an impressive achievement. Tell me, whose idea was it, yours or your granddaughter’s, to combine it with my Red Chain?”

“It was hers, and she had rightfully locked it away, from people like you.”

“No hesitation on that answer.” He craned an eyebrow. “Still, deep down, have you ever wanted to see if it could work? Was it not devastating to have to keep the existence of a miracle from the world?”

Carolina found her legs even more brittle than usual.

“No matter what you say, you shall not get your hands on it.” She swallowed. “Kill me if you must.”

“I see why these people revere you.” He leant down to her level. “But tell me, would the people still feel the same, knowing that you brought ruin to their once peaceful village?”

“I did no such thing!” She couldn’t remember the last time she’s raised her voice like this.

“Well, regardless of your desire for self-sacrifice, a heroic death would not be what I shall grant you.”

Cyrus took a few steps back, motioning Carolina to follow him outside. She obliged, and it didn’t take long for her to spot the crates. Warnings on warnings plastered all over these wooden containers, stacked twice as tall as she was.

“And those are?” she asked, slowly.

“Explosives, of course. I’m sure even you have heard of the recent bombings around Sinnoh.”

His murk made her blood boil.

“You brought that evil here?”

“Not yet, but I can. It’s no trouble at all to level this entire town, and perhaps a few neighbouring ones. Just deny me one more time, see what happens.”

“But you’ll die with us,” she protested.

“Threats only mean something coming from a believer.” His face told her of the truth he spoke. “Four years, I was trapped in eternal limbo. I had a lot of time to think: about what I’ve done, about what I could’ve done, and about the rest of you. Do you know what I found?”

“No,” she humoured his question.

“I found peace.” He looked back at the crates of incendiary. “And I’m going to bring peace to this continent, once and for all.”

“By killing everyone?”

“No. They are merely the eggs in my omelette.” He shook his head, a look of pity in his eyes. “Explaining it to you would be meaningless. Give me the Origin Ball.”

Caroline could hear her internal clock ticked as her mouth dried out. She considered her options carefully.

“Follow me.”

Their destination was the shrine in the middle of town. Each step for her was a difficult one, her bones trembling in the cold, until she felt Cyrus wrapping his suit jacket around her. She looked at him, confused. He did not explain.

The small shrine opened up without much fuss. Carolina reached inside, and Cyrus could hear a click, from where a hidden compartment opened up. Presently, she shakingly grabbed a small, metal safe, and handed it to Cyrus.

“You really have this thing locked tight, haven’t you?” He inspected the oddly shaped cube with great interest. “What’s the combination?”

“It’s my granddaughter’s birthday,” she said.

Cyrus began to input the keypad, but stopped before the penultimate number. His head swivelled, causing the old woman to flinch.

“You sly fox.” His gaze became crooked. “Your granddaughter made this, yet she was not the type to use her own birthday as a password.”
Before she could run, Cyrus turned the safe towards her, and punched in the last two numbers. Carolina only felt the dart lodged in her windpipe, before she collapsed. Cyrus knelt to catch her head as she fell. Presently, he checked her breathing, before collecting his jacket off her unconscious body.

“A tranquiliser dart. Strong enough to knock out a beast, looks like. You’re lucky the heart attack didn’t kill you outright.”

He picked up the safe, examining the small hole from which the projectile was fired. Impressive, he admitted, but he had other concerns.

“What would that accursed woman put as the passcode?”

Cyrus didn’t want to try random numbers. Who knew what other defence mechanisms are in place? He must make his guess count.

He thought long and hard. Every step of the way, from his failure, to his capture, to his freedom, there was a connecting thread.

“Naughty,” his smile finally reached his eyes.

As the safe whirled open upon input of the correct password, Cyrus grabbed the Origin Ball inside. He took a moment to admire the red, metal, angular construction, before tossing the container onto the ground below. The Celestic Ruins awaited, and he could see it from where he stood.

Chapter Text

None alive has ever seen anything like it.

The sky crackled with thunder, yet there was no rain, only rifts tearing themselves into existence. Scars of the night sky gave way to enormous vortexes shrouded in black mists, like tornadoes hoovering up puny settlements in its wake. From them, spewed a torrent of wild, uncontrollable pokemon. The residents of Sinnoh knew no peace, even those whose home and hearth were spared from wanton destruction until now. As the human population awoke to the invaders, the entire region lit up in panic and siren.

Dawn’s togekiss zipped through the sky, avoiding contact with the distortions as best it could. It hurt her to have to abandon the calls for help, but the already stretched thin emergency services would just have to stem the tide by themselves for now.

Toto took a dip to dodge a frameless door flying through the air, nearly causing her to drop.

Wiping the cold sweat off her brows, Dawn made herself small, keeping her form lean atop her pokemon to be safer against random objects flung through the air by this vortex. The chaos below was endless, and the best she could hope for was that Barry got her message to evacuate Twinleaf before the rifts opened up.

Celestic Town was mere minutes away, but Dawn could not shake the unease. Pressing concerns for the loss of lives and properties aside, she hasn’t received the answer she was hoping for.

Or any answer at all.

Upon learning of Cyrus’ plan from his two lackeys, she texted Cynthia of what she’s found before the cell towers were brought down. There had to have been enough time to reply. Maybe the woman was busy.
Busy with what?

Toto landed a few metres away from the forming crowd. Celestic Town was small enough to only be within range of a single distortion, but the few dozen adults were far from adequate. Toto exploded forward with its wings, cutting down a gengar emerging from the portal to give the people some breathing room. No time for courtesy, Dawn grabbed a random civilian by the shoulder to get his attention.

“Where’s Professor Carolina?” she shouted, yet her voice was barely audible underneath this whirlwind of noise.

“We found the elder unconscious by the shrine and took her into her house,” the man shouted back, thankful for the brief respite. “This crazy storm appeared right after.”

“What are those boxes?” Dawn pointed at the crates by the entrance of town.

“The labels say they’re explosives, but we checked, it’s just full of random consumer goods.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Thank you.”

She whistled, prompting her togekiss to return, then ran for the shrine.

“Where are you going?” he screamed after her. “We need help here.”

“That’s what I’m doing!”

As she expected, the ruins’ doors were no longer sealed, brute force being the apparent method. Nobody bothered with the to check the lock after everything went haywire.

Feet on the ground, Dawn pushed the doors inward with all her might. It wasn’t always so heavily protected, but the recent hostile climate made the locals beef up security, evidently to little help.

The darkness of the cavern provided an odd, calming contrast to the panic outside. Still, tranquility hid its own danger.

“You’ve made it,” a voice in the dark greeted her. “I was hoping you would.”

Dawn’s new found fist trembled in anticipation, as a small flame blossomed, shining a petering light on the rest of the crypt. There, Cyrus stood, leaning backwards, match in one hand, cigarette in the other. He lit up the stick, yet he didn’t smoke.

“You must pardon me a moment.” The light in his hand flickered. “I must pay my tribute.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, her empoleon emerged from its pokeball, shooting a waterjet stream from its shiny beak directly at Cyrus. In reaction, his gyarados wrung out to take the brunt of the attack. As the current subsided, it was apparent not much damage was done.

“I find that rude,” Cyrus replied with a scowl.

The cigarette between his fingers were snuffed out. He tossed it, and drew another from his coat pocket. Dawn crossed her arms and dissented:

“Not the time for false etiquette.”

“Perhaps.” Cyrus lit the second stick. This time, he took a drag, but not a long one. “But I’ll have to ask you for it all the same. It’s just us now.”

She jerked her head in confusion.

“Who else would be here?”

Cyrus raised the cigarette above his head.

“We’re in phase two. Rowan was phase one. Yet from the looks of it, he has failed to show.”

Dawn’s thoughts were swarmed with dots and connection.

“That means someone has stopped him.”

She could not help a small smile creeping on her lips.

“That may be, but I shall nevertheless fulfil my end. This is bigger than you and I, girl.” He pointed towards the exit. “Years of imprisonment has taught me only one thing: the void awaits all.”

“Is that what the rifts are?” A thunderous crack from the outside accentuated her question. “You’re unleashing the distortion onto the physical world?”

He nodded.

“I, like most, mistakenly thought Spear Pillar was the centre of the three lakes, where the heaven meets the earth.” Cyrus took another drag, exhaling the faint outline of smoke through his nostrils. “That last part may still be true, but here is where the true imbalance lays, for Sendoff Spring is the secret fourth lake. As luck would have it, Saturn preserved all the machinery from years ago, so making another Red Chain was trivial.”

Dawn glanced at the wall behind him, into where the fresco depicting the lake guardians were carved. There, she saw a Red Chain embedded into the carvings, but it didn’t glow like it should.

“That’s how you opened the rifts,” she murmured. He didn’t deny.

“I knew my lackeys would fess up to you sooner or later. I could’ve fed them false information, to distract you, but no. Before this world is consumed by the distortions, I must first have my revenge.”

Cyrus’ gyarados slammed the ground with its massive tail, causing a series of quakes rippling towards Dawn. She retreated Pipi, preventing it from harm. Instead, out came the oversized but animated washing machine, breaming with electricity. The Wash Rotom blinked its blue eyes in excitement, hovering above the tremors. However, Dawn herself was caught in its upheaval and crashed into the earth. She yelped, clutching her sprained left knee as she struggled to get up. Traces of blood peppered her skin with every breath.

“Collateral damage is regrettable, yet unavoidable,” said Cyrus. “I have no intention of causing you personal harm, but our battlefield provides little respite.”

Dawn trembled, but the echo of her momentary cry had been swallowed by the dark. She was still hissing in pain, yet she met Cyrus’s gaze, reminding him of a memory most unpleasant. Those dark, gray eyes seared his soul, signalling a wrath everlasting, despite her pitiable state.

“Here I was afraid I’d never see that look again,” he said.

“You’re not the one bleeding.” She granted him a sarcastic smirk. “Why are we just talking?”

Cyrus narrowed his eyes, and spoke through gritted teeth:

“Your arrogance is exhausting.”

The gyarados charged forward, fangs wide, threatening to tear its enemies apart. Dawn took a laboured step backward, as her rotom charged its circuits.

“Different angle,” she commanded.

Bzz~

Rotom shifted its back to her, and lined up the shot. A blazing thunderbolt erupted from its core, catching the opposing gyarados mid flight, dropping it to the earth. Still, the piercing shockwave carried onward directly at Cyrus, who dove out of the way almost too late. His left half was struck, burning away his clothes in patches under the intense hit of lightning, which only ended after it hit into the wall behind him.

He took a roll, before getting up on his knees, panting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.” Huffing, he collected himself. “I know someone who wouldn’t be very happy if you did.”

Dawn glared at him.

“You know nothing.” She couldn’t help herself. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

“Forgive me. I didn’t come here to sneer, yet it has caused me to drop my guard.” He struggled to wipe the dirt off his torn suit. “Revenge is not done with words.”

“Then I suggest you shut up.”

Cyrus obliged.

Pure darkness filled the ruins, snuffing out what was left of the dwindling light source. A dense fog crept outward, imposing a chill upon the damp atmosphere, filling the air with dread. Dawn felt the hair on her arms go rigid, as she saw a single gleaming emerald eye. Her vision adjusted more to the onset pitch black, as the contour of that sleek, humanoid form emerged into view, its transparent, ghastly plume fluttering without wind.

Chapter Text

Spear Pillar has always proved to be a challenging trip.

The air was too thin and wind too fierce for most pokemon to carry their trainers, leaving footpaths the only realistic means of travel. Even on the descent, it was still hundreds of winding steps down impossibly formed natural staircases. Hours more of her life wasted, and more yet had she not left Rowan on the mountain peak. She promised to send help to collect him after, and that was not a lie. She simply didn’t have the time for that baggage, given that his suitcase was of great importance, and little else.

As she exited the cavernous depths, it was impossible to not notice the swirling distortion rifts which had taken over the unblemished moonlit sky. The initial adjustment gave way for focus and desire, for there was someone she needed to see.

Celestic Town was not far away. She could make it within the half hour, given the truck still worked. To her great relief, the engine purred with excitement as the key turned smoothly in her hand. Her feet on the gas pedal, the small truck raced off onto the jungle path from whence it came. The night air and screams of civilians from the distance could not quell the disappointment in her, however.

When she walked up those radiant steps, she found nothing. Whatever promise of discovery built upon the anticipation proved no more than fleeting delusion. Even as she squeezed the Azure Flute in the pocket of her black fur coat, she felt her anger rising, tamed somewhat by the breeze coursing through the holes on its left side.

Turning on the radio only revealed further spreading panic, as authorities scrambled to reach out for any help they could. The rifts were localised to Sinnoh, but help from other regions would not arrive for at least several days. Her homeland might have been burnt to the ground by then.

The jungle cleared out for man-made roads soon enough. There were debris scattered across them at this point: fallen trees, up turned boulders, household items carried from elsewhere. The vehicle she drove was small enough to squeeze through the random obstacles, but it did lengthen her trip some.

The outskirts of Celestic Town appeared presently, almost fully engulfed by a nearby vortex. The struggle of the locals, and the resulting bodies, were plain to see. She could see these rustic houses being pulled their foundation given an hour or two. Pulling to the trunk of a nearby cedar tree, she hid the truck behind it. Attention was not what she wanted, yet. Opening Rowan’s briefcase, she put on the trainer belt holding a few pokeballs, then left.

Sprinting, she could feel the sore of her hamstrings weighing down. That trudge up and down Mt. Coronet did no favours. Still, she must continue, before it’s too late.

The town centre was very different from the last time she saw it. The famous shrine had been demolished, and a battlefield had taken its place. On one end was a tall, lanky gaunt man in a burnt suit. On the other stood a teenage girl dressed in bright-coloured jacket and jeans, one arm slung from the scarf on her neck. The wanton destruction taken place was obvious, and it was easy to tell that they both were at the end of their ropes. Good timing for me, she thought.

“Cyrus,” she yelled, running into view. “You must stop this.”

The two turned to the unexpected intruder, halting their fight.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Spear Pillar?” asked Cyrus.

“The ritual didn’t work. We couldn’t get the avatar,” she said. “You need to revert the distortions, or the entire region will be in ruins before morning.”

As Cyrus contemplated the suggestion, Dawn stood, wide-eyed, staring at the interrupting woman.

“Why are you wearing Cynthia’s coat?” the girl asked, words like sludge seeping out.

Roseanne adjusted her bright red glasses and collected her breath. She realised then that her hairpin had fell out during the run, letting her emerald hair flow to her collar.

“Oh this? I think it looks good on me, even with all the holes.” She put a finger through one of a myriad of small tears at the coat’s abdomen, dried blood by their edges masked by the dead of night. “She won’t be needing it anymore.”

Dawn stood still, her chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. The erratic drumming of her heart has drowned out all outside noise, as her mind raced to fill in the gaps. The muscles in her one good arm tightened up to the point of near spasms. Regardless, the conversation continued around her, as if the significance of her existence had vanished into thin air.

“Reverting the distortions will not be an easy process,” Cyrus said calmly. “Nor do I have any real interest in doing so. I have already fulfilled my part of the plan. You must live with your own failure.”

Roseanne squinted at him.

“Plans change,” she argued. “If we let this go on, we’d be buried along with this place and everyone else here.”

“Then so it shall be.” He turned his back to her. “Now if you excuse me, I have a battle to return to."

“Don’t you dare.”

He heard a pin click. Swiveling his head, he saw the green-haired woman pointing a pistol at him, finger hovering over its trigger.

“Is that what happened to the woman?” There was no fear in his voice. “You shot her from behind, then looted the coat off her corpse, only to parade it around as a trophy?”

“And I’d do the same to you,” Roseanne said. Her grip was firm, trained, deadly. Her form was straight, shoulder-width, immaculate. “Do not test me.”

“I always knew you were ruthless.” Cyrus shook his head. “But you’re just a psychopath, not to mention a craven.”

“You’re one to talk.” Her expression was flat. “You broke your lackeys out of prison, then discarded them without a second thought.”

“They did it for the cause, and they would do it again.” Cyrus narrowed his eyes, turning around to face her. “Unlike you, my lieutenants didn’t follow me for transactional reasons.”

“Enough,” she exclaimed. “Either you start moving, or I take it off your dead body.”

“What about Dawn here?” Cyrus jerked his head sideway.

The girl caught a short breath as he mentioned her name, only then acknowledging the tightness in her chest. She saw the gun, and the two staring. The words they spoke in passing eventually registered in her brain, but only barely. The apparent threat on her life mattered very little.

“Cynthia’s dead?” she admitted it to herself with a question, tears forming around those dark, unblinking eyes.

“Is she usually this slow?” Roseanne asked. “Take her with us.”

Cyrus did not join in the jeering. He placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, as she started to weep. It was her forfeiture, and his triumph, but it could not feel any less hollow, like the tendrils of the void clawing at his psyche.

“Come, girl. It is time for this to end.”

Dawn did not resist, following him back into the ruins. Roseanne was right behind, firearm at the ready, impatiently fingering the luxurious leather grip.

The Celestic Ruins was in the same state as they left it. The doors that once held the entrance was in pieces, along with any other pretenses of preservation. The inner walls were blackened with char, the steps were cracked, and the fresco of the lake guardians was on the ground. Cyrus flicked his lighter on, staring at the carnage for a fleeting moment.

“What now?” Roseanne asked.

Cyrus picked the fresco off the ground, as the used up Red Chain dropped from its host, limp and lifeless.

“We need to forge another. Without my equipment here, it’d require the three Lake Guardians,” he said, looking at her expectantly.

“We have two.”

Roseanne tossed him two pokeballs from her belt, one hand still firmly on her weapon. Cyrus caught them, before looking to Dawn.

“Give me the last,” he commanded, subtly turning his back towards the entryway.

The girl had no desire to protest.

Azelf, Uxie, and Mespirit emerged from their containment, reunited once again. The triangle between them linked up, slowly materialising the mythical object.

While they worked, Cyrus glanced backwards to see Roseanne at a distance. Shielding Dawn from the woman’s view, he whispered.

“Girl.”

Dawn looked at him. The whimpering had turned her eyes blood red.

“The void awaits me, for it is my time,” he continued, his voice low. “But hear this: I’ve lived for vengeance, and that’s the least you could aspire to.”

Presently, he could see the realisation settling in. Her tears dried up as her pupils constricted. This hardened gaze of hers was much more familiar to him. Nostalgic, almost.

Youth, he thought.

“It’s done,” Roseanne called out, oblivious. She pointed to the lake trio.

Cyrus glanced over. She spoke true, it was done.

He rushed towards her.

Chapter Text

Death was a fact of life.

Despite her age, Dawn was familiar with death. Her father passed away when she was too little to remember, but the concept of his demise made sense to her even at the age of five. Charon was also a part of her memories, a small piece of her even felt guilty for his death. Still, it couldn’t compare to actually seeing Mr. Palmer’s lifeless body, whose cold, pale face lurked around the back of her mind ever since the trip Turnback Cave, whispering, reminding her of the fleetness of mortality. When she saw Saturn's demise earlier that same day, those voices were no longer whispers.

Yet, that was still far removed from watching someone be killed.

As Cyrus descended on top of Roseanne, the woman let loose a flurry of bullets. This did little to stop his momentum, as the tackle knocked her to the ground. Coughing up blood, he tries to wrestle the pistol away, but not before it fired a few more rounds. By the time the eighth bullet left the chamber, the struggle ceased.

Roseanne crawled out from under the man’s imposing frame, legs wobbling. Still, her expression remained perfectly flat, the gun firm in her hands. She aimed at Cyrus’ limp body and fired again, but there was nothing left in the magazine. Cursing, she stashed it back into her trousers, before her neck snapped towards Dawn, who’s been staring from across the clearing with a horrified expression.

“What are you looking at?” the woman yelled. “He’s dead. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Dawn took a moment to shake off the shock, but her voice still quaked as she spoke.

“You just killed someone in cold blood. Does that not bother you?”

Roseanne wiped the dirt from her clothes.

“What’s the point?” she asked sarcastically.

Dawn could only stare. The woman before her looked just like the lab assistant she had worked with all those years ago, when they were both under Rowan’s employ. Dawn remembered the smile Roseanne used to flash when she would tuck those green tresses behind her ears, or the pat on the back she’d give whenever they had to stay back late. How could this be the same person?

“Have you,” she resumed. “Have you always been like this?”

“Psychopathic?” Rosane rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Such a bore you people are, dancing around the bush. Kids like you are the worst, always so needy. The fact that I had to make an effort to put up with you doesn’t mean I’ve ever liked you.”

That was almost comforting for Dawn to hear.

“So, it’s true, then. You were the one behind all of this,” she said, the shaky timbre of her voice falling away.

“As much as I’d like to, I cannot take all the credit.” A smirk crept onto the woman’s face. “It was Rowan who reached out after his professional exile, suggesting this grand plan. Employing the help of Cyrus and his old Team Galactic’s connections was my idea, though. Cyrus himself was too much of a fanatic to really consider the consequences, and agreed immediately in exchange for freeing him.”

“Who was it that killed Mr. Palmer?”

“Cyrus, of course. The madman challenged his own jailer, same as he did you. Life or death, he was ready to die, should he have lost.” Roseanne glanced at the man’s body beneath her feet. “He’s consistent; I’ll give him that.”

Dawn’s eyes were drawn to Cyrus as well. There he lay, motionless, his blood desecrating the ground of this once sacred site. The gruesome sight made her flinch. She grabbed her own left arm, still hanging uselessly from the sling around her neck. He had so graciously allowed her to patch it up in the middle of their fight, after Darkrai nearly blasted her arm away. She knew the woman before her would give no such quarter. That man was dead. He wasn’t the first to die tonight, and won’t be the last.

Dawn scanned the chamber. It seemed the Lake Guardians had escaped in the scuffle, leaving the newly formed Red Chain on the ground by her feet. She picked it up. The cold, metallic texture kneaded the insides of her calloused palm, radiating an odd but warm energy.

“I assume you’re also interested in stopping the rifts,” said Roseanne. “If so, we’re on the same side. So, why don’t you go ahead?”

Dawn didn’t protest. She returned the fresco to its spot on the wall, before lining up the artefact in her hand with the crevices of the carvings. The chain began to glow and pulsate for about a minute. Presently, with an anti-climatic clang, it fell onto the ground, the radiating colours drained from its layers. It was but an ordinary item now.

“Good girl,” said Roseanne. “However, I’m afraid there’s still the matter of your life.”

Dawn glanced over at the woman.

“You plan to kill me. Is that it?” she asked nonchalantly. “To hide your involvement?”

“That was the plan from the start. However, since I don’t really have more bullets with me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to do so the painful way.”

Roseanne took a step back, her hand reached for her hips. From the pokeballs on her belt, she released Heatran. The metallic frog roared at the taste of freedom, flames gleaming beneath the bright spots all over its body. It reared on its four legs, spiky steel cufflinks clanking by their ends.

“Do not resist,” Roseanne commanded. “It’ll make this a lot easier for the both of us, and you can go meet your precious Cynthia all the quicker, if you believe in that.”

Dawn felt her eye twitch, but she didn’t reply at first.

“You should know,” the woman continued. “She called out your name while bleeding out on those marble floors, if that makes you feel better.”

Dawn bit her lip. The scene that played in her head was cruel, but she could not stop it invading her imagination.

“Why would you care how I feel?” she asked. “Why should I even believe you?”

“I have no reason to lie. Think of it as a parting gift.” Roseanne raised her hand, and Heatran opened its mouth, magma bubbling behind those metal fangs. “Now, would you please stand still.”

A torrent of flames spewed from Heatran’s jaws. To Roseanne’s disappointment, however, Dawn’s empoleon emerged from its containment, splashing a ring of water around her to diffuse the attack. As lava met the shield, it formed a ring of obsidian, dropping heavily onto the ground below.

“So, you’ve decided to struggle,” the woman said frigidly. “I would have thought you’d be on the ropes after the battle with Cyrus.”

“I still have two and a half working limbs.” Dawn glared at the woman. “Not much to live for, but I will worry about that after.”

Roseanne shook her head in annoyance.

Heatran wound up its front legs, before stomping the ground before it. A massive tremor propelled forward, forcing Dawn to roll out of the way. She was not fast enough, however, as her already battered body was flung several metres. Pipi could not dodge, however, as the quake swallowed it whole, rendering it unable to fight any longer.

Dawn leant on the cracks in the wall as she struggled to rise to her feet, a large gash on her shin seeping out fresh blood. As Heatran prepared for another assault, Cresselia sprang forth from its captivity. She grabbed onto the purple swan with all her speed, in time for it to float above the next seismic shockwave. The ground crumbled beneath, and the whole cavern shook with wanton abandon. A chunk of rock fell from the ceiling in the middle of the battlefield, forcing both sides to back off. Cresselia took the chance to evade targeting, slipping away from the rubble and carried its trainer outside.

Roseanne hurried after, only to find it levitating only a few dozen metres away from the exit, a few stories off the ground. She peered about. As expected, the rifts have faded, and the only noise littering the atmosphere are sirens of emergency services. Some civilians could be seen trying to help the wounded. That’d give her more time to take care of this.

“You should’ve run when you had the chance,” said the woman. “Now that we’re no longer indoors, nothing stops me from annihilating you.”

Roseanne returned Heatran to her belt, in its place, came something much fiercer. An impossibly large, bipedal beast tore through the fabric of reality itself to arrive on site. Palkia’s pearlescent body shimmered with a violet sheen, rippled with the energy of the cosmos embroidered into its massive natural plating around its hands, shoulders, and head. Its long, sinuous neck shifted with the curves of its wings, as it monstrous tail slammed the ground, scarring the very earth on which it stood.

Despite bearing witness to the fearsome entrance, Dawn’s attention was elsewhere. She looked to the west. Mt. Coronet stood in its eternal majesty, whence a breezy gust of wind came forth to massage her bruises, but sting her wounds. There was a gentleness in that, a sensation reminiscent of a last embrace.

The last embrace.

Chapter Text

Dawn closed her eyes, letting the wind wash over her, whistling sweet nothings into her ears. There were a lot of words that often came with an embrace, usually regarded as mere flattery. Yet, right then, she finally understood what they meant.

“Where do you think you’re staring?” Roseanne yelled at her from the ground.

Dawn looked down at the woman trying to get her attention. From her vantage point, the woman was small, miniscule even, especially in contrast to the hulking beast that is the personification of space itself standing next to her.

She shrugged.

Cresselia flew to the far side of the town’s outskirts, away from civilisation, before lowering itself to the ground, so that Dawn could walk off. The girl winced as she put some weight onto her bad leg, but the hobble was enough. Right behind, Roseanne caught up to her in pursuit, Palkia knocking down trees as it went, clearing a path into the nearby forest.

“This should be a more appropriate arena for our little tussle,” said Dawn.

“Tussle?” the woman snapped. “Do you understand the gravity of the situation? Or have you lost your mind?”

Dawn tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. It was a different type of gaze she projected: mellow, levelled, and almost disinterested.

“Would you get on with it already?” she complained. “I have somewhere to be.”

Roseanne blinked.

She could not verbalise the choler building within, threatening to seep through her every pore. Removing her glasses, she slowly wiped off the fog of the morning dew from them with her undershirt, her fingers shaking with bridled rage. Presently, the red plastic frame returned to rest on the bridge of her nose, slightly bent.

“If you insist.”

Roseanne produced a violet orb from her possession, throwing it towards Palkia. The monster absorbed the item into its helmet, radiating a purple aura of life force radiating from its massive form. Without a warning, it dashed forward, each of its strides outpacing the length of a house. The movement of the giant was enough to cause a minor earthquake on ground level, knocking down trees and crushing boulders beneath its feet.  Its claw rent through space itself, leaving a bright luminescent trail across the air as they slammed into Cresselia. As the dust cleared, however, Cresselia remained stalwart, with visible damage on its crescent body. Palkia’s aura faded slightly as it returned to its trainer’s side, powering down from the exertion with each huff. Cresselia didn’t retaliate. Instead, it conjured a glimmering wall of opaque light, layering a defensive barrier in front of itself.

“You can’t stall forever.”

Roseanne flung her arm forward in command. Palkia pointed its speared helm into the air, as the sky darkened momentarily. From the atmosphere above, small comets could be seen approaching at great speed, fiery trails following their descent. Dawn took cover, limping backwards as Cresselia angled its barrier up in full anticipation. The meteors crashed directly into it, shaking the grounds beneath with an awesome force, carving out a crater where Cresslia was. The swan was on its last fin, scratches and dents littering its once smooth body. Undeterred, it looked to the sky, and to the final shadows of moonlight leaving with the rising sun. Its body twirled, it fins flapped to a rhythm, dancing to the phase of the moon. With a final spin, it crashed into the earth, motionless.

“Did that thing just killed itself?” said Rosanne, incredulous. “Brilliant strategy.”

Dawn ignored the taunt, waiting for the eventual ray of light that emerged from Cresslia’s unconscious figure. She returned it to her belt, and in its place was a small canine creature, whose green fur curling forward at the top of its head gave it a bizzare mohawk similarity. Its white, pointy ears were larger in comparison, flaring to both sides, catching the wind like wings. It bathed in the ray as if it was water, enthusiastically shrugging off drops from its fur. Dawn patted its head, giving it a small berry to stash into its pink scarf.

“Enough of this,” Roseanne’s impatience claimed initiative. “Perish.”

Palkia roared and dug its heel into the ground, the orb on its helm radiating once more, fueling power with its own life force. In response, Shaymin zipped to the sky, drawing the giant’s attention, positioning itself beneath the shadow of the sun. Palkia propelled off with its tail like it was swimming in open space, slamming past the small silhouette, crushing it utterly with utmost ferocity.

Palkia’s jump was forceful enough to knock the two trainers off their feet. Roseanne quickly collected herself, before turning towards the girl, who once again struggled to get up.

“That’d be that. Was that the culmination of your so-called resistance?” she jeered.

Dawn didn’t respond, only an annoyed frown overtaking her face. She turned her head up at the scene above once more, causing Roseanne to do the same. The woman was shocked to see that the battle had yet to end. The Shaymin was still flying about, leaving an afterimage in its place.

“Palkia, stop!”

Her command was of no use, for Palkia was lost in its own outrage, blindly pursuing its opponent. With each wasted attack on a decoy, the life orb consumed more and more of its health, until even the titan was visibly haggard. It was not easy to be prey, however, and Shaymin itself was also evidently drained. The chase ended with both on the ground, teetering on exhaustion.

“Mere distractions,” Roseanne said, “finish it.”

Palkia stood on its heels, breathed in more energy for one last attack. Meanwhile, Shaymin reluctantly nibbled at the berry implanted into its scarf, visibly upset at the bitter taste and rough, spiky texture. Regardless, the power-up was immediate. Before Palkia could release its power, the flying hedgehog accelerated, gliding right above the surface like an aerial missile, leaving sonic booms in its wake. With immense precision and speed, the projectile struck the titan on its exposed jaw like a cannon shot, sending it reeling, stumbling, collapsing. As it went down, Roseanne had to recall it back to its pokeball before the fall would crush her beneath that massive frame.

Gritting her teeth, she reached for her belt again.

“No matter, there is still…” she began, but didn’t finish.

Immense pain overtook her, as she staggered backwards, tumbling down on her back. The woman was in a daze, as blood began dripping from her reddened forehead. She tried to stand up, but a weight was on her chest.

“What did…?” she stammered.

Dawn placed her good foot on the woman’s torso, grinding her down while she cried out. The girl had another rock in her hand, contemplating throwing it again at point blank. Deeming that unnecessary, she tossed it, instead kneeled down and delivered blow after blow with her right fist. Roseanne, consciousness fading with each strike, stopped resisting eventually, her glasses battered and broken like the rest of her features.

Dawn wiped the blood off her knuckles, before removing the woman’s gun from her trousers, along with her trainer belt. Lastly, she flipped Roseanne over, forcefully stripping the black coat off, only to put it on herself.

“It’s cold,” she noted, touching the fur and the holes in it, “it’s so dirty. There’s so much blood on it.”

She couldn’t even tell whose blood it was. In could’ve been anyone’s, or everyone’s.

Still, it was time for a call. The emergency satellite service remained operational, to her delight.

“Hey Looker. Are you alive?”

“Yes.” the gruff, panting voice of the middle-aged detective could be heard through the receiver. “My bad for not contacting you. We lost the suspect yesterday; she slipped away from our supervision somehow. I was going to tell you, but then all the explosions started happening and we needed to help people, then the rifts as well. At least they seem to have stopped. We’ve been caught up in the cleanup.”

He sounds exhausted. She thought. Probably hasn’t slept either.

“Well, I have the suspect right here, by the outskirts of Celestic Town. Alive, barely.” She looked down at the woman beneath her dirty shoes, still out cold. “Get your squad here quick. I believe the worst is over.”

“Is that so?” There was a small amount of joy in his voice. “Thanks for telling me. Which part of the outskirts are you at?”

Dawn looked around, admiring the rampant destruction as an obvious affront to all nature and good taste.

“The part where all the trees have been destroyed. You can’t miss it.” She waited for the pause on the other end of the line. “Bring a small ambulance team. Also, there’s going to be a body to be collected on site.”

“I thought you said the suspect was alive?”

“The ambulance is for her. The body is someone else’s. You can find him in the Celestic Ruins. That place is not in good shape though, tell your boys to be careful.”

“Will do.” Another pause, this one more unexpected. “Are you alright, Dawn? You sound different.”

She turned off the phone.

After stuffing her belt with the loose pokeballs, Dawn used Roseanne’s to tie the woman up, and confiscated the pistol as well. Examining at the weapon, she contemplated briefly.

“I should’ve just killed you,” she murmured.

Tucking it into her jeans, she let her togekiss out of its containment one more time. It nuzzled at her with its round body, concern in its eyes.

“I’m fine, Toto. Come on.” She struggled, but eventually got on its back. “We have somewhere to be.”

Chapter Text

Spear Pillar remained of interest to none but one. It was apparent to those who arrived later, that the rifts Cyrus opened the previous night did not manifest upon these hallowed grounds, but no survivors had the slightest thought of taking shelter here. Mt. Coronet was the focal point of the entire region, its harsh conditions a known quality. Anyone foolish enough to spend the night here without adequate, or even overzealous, preparations would find themselves a victim to the environment, even if it hadn’t been snowing recently.

Dawn checked Rowan’s pulse. It confirmed what her eyes could surmise at the sight of his ghastly fate.

She stood up. It was noon, thus the sun high. It took her hours to hike up here, and even wrapped in the fur coat, it was still cold at this time of year. She had time to bandage and set her busted leg while being flown on her togekiss, but the ascent was nevertheless daunting. Toto was with her through it all, but it could not carry her up through those winding natural staircases and low ceiling caverns. Hunger ravaged her with every step, but she carried on.

Leaving Rowan’s body tied up as she found him, Dawn approached the other corpse on the other side of these marble steps.

There the woman was, lying face-down at the top of the stairwell leading to the temple ruins, blue splotches of frostbite all over her skin. Her heels were broken, and her cyan undershirt had bullet holes in them, matching those found on the coat Dawn was wearing. Those golden locks looked like they had been bleached by the winter sun, fading into platinum, spreading over her shoulders.

Dawn sat down next to the body to rest her legs, then struggled a great deal to turn Cynthia’s body face-up. The woman had perished, a shocked expression still frozen on her face, eyes open, lips parted. Dawn smoothened out that face, closed those eyelids, and sealed those lips that had gone blue in the night’s frost. Then, she placed the woman’s head on her lap.

“Hey,” she called out to the unflinching, unfeeling body within her grasps, her calloused fingers gently running over those hollow cheeks. “You’re so cold.”

She started to quiver, but gritted her teeth in a desperate attempt to keep her voice.

“I’m here,” she continued, “just yesterday, we said we’d meet again.”

Dawn forced a smiled and inhaled, but it became obvious to her that her nostrils were stuffed. She sniffled slightly, wiping it off in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m getting all messed up.” Another sniffle, longer than the last. “Don’t worry. Unlike you, I actually told someone where I was going. They will be here looking for me soon, even if I couldn’t make it down by myself.”

She giggled, but the sound was caught in her throat.

“I’m so lame.” She shook her head in an act of defiance. “Keep it together, Dawn.”

She couldn’t.

The tears, once started, wouldn’t stop. She used her own shirt, dirty from grime and faded blood, as a handkerchief. She wiped off the waterworks and snot, again and again. By the time she was tired, she could feel her eyes puffy and itching.

“Fuck,” she cursed. Cursing didn’t improve the situation.

“Fuck!” she cursed again, louder this time, to no one in particular. She slammed her fist into the floor, in a petulant attempt to collect herself. It stung.

“So,” she began, “this is it. You’re dead, and,” an exhale to keep the fluids from her lungs, “and I’ll have to live with that.”

She peered down at the face that had haunted so many of her nightmares, yet populated so many of her dreams. She had finally gotten it in her hands.

“You know.” A pathetic chuckle. “When I was facing Roseanne just then, I didn’t feel any pressure. I told myself: I’m the only one who’s ever beaten the great Cynthia. How could Roseanne, a fraud and a liar, possibly compete, even if I was half dead and with most of my team knocked out? Half way through, though, I thought to myself: why don’t I just throw a rock at her? And I did. It worked, not as well as a bullet, but I suppose someone will complain if I actually committed murder..”

She looked again at that stoic expression.

“You probably would, being one of those people who cares more about others’ wellbeing than your own.”

She touched those icy, dark blue lips.

“Did you really call out my name in your dying breath?” Dawn pressed her own lips together, shaking. “Was I really the last thing on your mind?” She tried wiping the tears away again, one eye at a time. “Or was it just that woman’s cruel tricks to get me to surrender?”

Dawn raised her head, eyes squinting at the sun.

“I don’t trust her words, but I do trust Cyrus.” She looked back to the other side, where Rowan lay lifeless. “He said Rowan was here for the first part of their plan, whatever that was. You told me they were here to use the Azure Flute, but you must have beaten him, and then.” A sigh. “And then you were ambushed by Roseanne, shot in the back. I guess I’m a little curious, but that doesn’t matter now.”

She looked about. There were no signs of movement still, ever since she’s returned Toto to its pokeball.

“I’m glad, at least, that I could be with you now. Eventually, they’re going to collect your body and put it in a casket. They’re going to take you away from me.”

Dawn clutched her fist.

“What if I,” she hesitated, “what if I just kill myself right here? What if I just bite off my own tongue right now and bleed out? Would that do it? Would that let me see you again?” She hyperventilated. “Or… or is that all nonsense, and I’d be throwing my life away, and my mother is going to cry herself to death?”

She massaged her own throat and chest, trying to calm down.

“That’d be so selfish, wouldn’t it? My mother lost her husband, and she lived for my sake, why can’t I do her the same courtesy?” She bit her lip. “Is this what she felt when dad died?”

She bobbed back and forth.

“But it’s not the same, is it? They were together for nearly twenty years. They had a child, they celebrated anniversaries, they lived a happy life, for a while, at least. Yet I…” She blinked rapidly, as if that would stop the tears from welling up. “I didn’t get a single day. We were supposed to take a vacation together, remember? My birthday is coming up. It was your excuse to take a rest, for once in your life. You were supposed to take me to dinner, then we’d hold hands, then you’d look me in the eye and...”

She choked up.

“And tell me you loved me.” Breaking down. “You never did.”

No matter how much she wept, time passed all the same.

As the sun made it way to the western horizon, another human being could finally be seen. His wild, blonde hair stood out amongst the unmoving. Barry clutched his thick overcoat against the afternoon wind, as he raced towards his friend, who was lying on the stairs.

“Dawn?” He shook her awake, huffing and puffing from the exertion. “Dawn, answer me.”

He sighed in relief when she blinked, dim light slipping through her heavy lashes.

“Hey,” she greeted him. “Good to see you. Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks to your early warning, the town was evacuated beforehand. A lot was destroyed, but I don’t think there’s any loss of life. Can’t say the same for the other cities, but ours could be rebuilt, in time.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Thank goodness.”

“But your mom is worried sick. I know you asked me to get you later, but I couldn’t just sit idly by.”

“Right.” Dawn yawned. “I just wanted to stay here a little longer.”

Barry looked at the body beside her, to which she was clinging.

“Did you get to say your goodbye?” he asked.

Their gazes met.

“There’s never enough time,” she admitted.

“I know how you feel.”

She nodded. He was sincere. It made her feel marginally better.

“Did you bring help like I asked?”

Barry turned around, where a few more people emerged from the cavernous steps, dressed in work gear. They were emergency services, firemen if she had to guess.

“We brought a few body bags for the… bodies, and a stretcher for you.”

They tended to her lame leg and broken arm first, before attending to the others. Dawn watched wordlessly as Cynthia’s face disappeared behind that zipper, with Barry’s hand on her shoulder. The men carried her down on the stretcher, as she descended Mt. Coronet one last time.

Chapter Text

A stream cared little for the opinions of the rocks on its bed. Undisturbed, it flowed in defiance of all external forces. And so, time was ever the universal constant, uncaring, callous, indiscriminate. All anyone could do was live.

Dawn stood, the last of the breezy autumn winds playing on her dark blue locks. She held a bouquet in her hand, comprised of roses, lilies, and other flowers she could not hope to name. She kneeled and placed the bundle by a gravestone, then lit an incense for the small dirt-filled offering vase before her, from where a small patch of grass grew. The epitaph reads: “Our most beloved mayor, Professor Carolina.”

She stared at it for a moment, contemplating giving it a bow of grace. This was not the first grave she’s visited today, but it was the last. However, she heard footsteps in the distance, two sets.

“I didn’t expect anyone else here,” a soft, distant voice called out.

Dawn saw a woman approaching. She had massive, curly blonde hair and a crown-shaped hat to match. A near transparent cloak wrapped around her light pink dress accentuated her heels, smoothing out as she bowed in greeting.

“Lady Caitlin,” said Dawn, bowing back in courtesy. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here today?”

“Same reason as you, I’d imagine.” The lady turned around and waited for Darach, her butler and valet, to bring tribute. “I’d like to pay respects to Professor Carolina, on her second death anniversary.”

“But that’s tomorrow,” said Dawn.

“And I’d like to have this done without others around. As I said, same as you.”

Dawn nodded. By this time the following evening, this site would be flooded with the other residents of Celestic Town paying respects to their once esteemed mayor. She was theirs for nearly fifty years, and she was missed by many when she passed of old age.

“Were you here last year?” asked Dawn. “I don’t believe we ran into each other.”

“I didn’t have the chance. I was in Unova at that time for an important obligation, but I vowed not to miss it this year.”

Darach had caught up to her at this point. He donned a thick, black coat over his usual suit jacket attire, his hair slick, firmly held together by unnamed products. He was carrying what could only be described as a treasure trove: incense, fruits, flowers, and more. He sat it down elsewhere, and began to unpack.

“You two seem well,” said Dawn.

“We are. Business is good, once you’re out of Sinnoh. It’ll take a few more years yet before this region returns to its former glory,” said Caitlin. “I understand it’s already been four, but the kind of reputation we acquired on the world stage doesn’t wash away easily.”

“So they say,” Dawn said bitterly. “I don’t think the tourism sector will ever recover, and my line of work has its ups and downs as well, with such limited participation.”

“Oh yes. Please, allow me to congratulate you as the new Frontier Brain of the Battle Tower.” They exchanged a handshake. “I’d have thought Mr. Palmer’s boy would take up his father’s post, but I was informed he has elected to remain the champion of Sinnoh, for the fifth year running.”

“He believes the Battle Frontier has too much baggage.”

“Very understandable.” Caitlin turned to her butler. “Darach, do we have any upcoming appointment at the Battle Castle?”

Darach looked up from his task, visibly exasperated.

“In about a month’s time, my lady.”

Caitlyn turned back to Dawn, extending a friendly smile.

“Then I suppose we shall see you there.”

Presently, Dawn excused herself to get away. Rubbing her gloved hands together, she let out a few smoky exhales. Winter was due soon, and she found herself not nearly as impervious to it as when she was a teenager. It was getting late, and she owed her mother a visit. Toto was by her side in a moment, as she flew back to Twinleaf Town on its reliable wings.

Her mother’s new house was much smaller than the old one. Without a husband nor a daughter to live in, Johanna had elected to rebuild what would more qualify as a big shack than a real brick and mortar home, with the only requirement being excellent isolation. When Dawn knocked on those dainty wooden doors as the night began to set, she saw her mother, more crow’s feet by her eyes than she remembered, greeting her.

“Dawn,” Johanna exclaimed, “you are late, young lady.”

“Sorry mom. I ran into someone I knew…”

Before she could finish explaining, her mother yanked her arm inside.

“Get in before you let the cold in, won’t you? We have guests tonight.”

Johanna shut the door behind them, as Dawn began to take off her shoes.

“Guests?” asked Dawn.

“Yes. Barry is in town for a few days, and so is Lucas. They’ve come to have dinner. They’ve been waiting for you.”

Flustered, Dawn followed her mother to the dining room, where her friends were sitting. Barry had grown much taller than she was, even if she did grow quite a bit. Unsurprisingly, he resembled his late father, in both hair and fashion sense, more and more each time she saw him on television. Lucas, on the other hand, stayed modest in height, but no longer donning that baseball cap everywhere he went. He was a real professor now, and had an image to keep. In here, it was business casual and a leather blazer at the back of his chair.

“Dawn.” Lucas greeted her with a wave.

“What took you so long?” asked Barry.

“Had an errand,” she lied. Sitting down between the two, she grew more conscious of her apparent disadvantage in size as the years went by. She was the tallest out of the three when they were kids, but that proved a short-lived advantage.

“You know.” Barry leant in, an arm over her shoulder. “Lucas here has been making some wild claims.”

“Oh?” She feigned interest. “About what?”

“Something not ready yet, but it’s a surprise for you, Dawn.” Lucas was not as touchy-feely. “You really helped me out with the thesis, so I’ve been looking into some research as thanks. You might like what I found.”

Dawn tilted her head. Her interest was no longer mere decorum.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“I can’t say yet, before further testing. It’d be awfully embarrassing if it doesn’t end up working out. Meet me at the Sandgem Lab on Friday? If everything checks out, that is. I’ll send you a text.”

Dawn checked her schedule. She was free, and so the appointment was confirmed. The rest of the night went without a hitch, but Barry did have to leave early to attend to his mother. Johanna loved seeing her daughter come around, and it took a lot of convincing for her before she let Dawn leave again.

Lucas, on the other hand, had his head in the clouds the entire night.

Dawn recalled being rather curious about his proposal, as she stood in front of his laboratory at eight in the morning. He had asked for this time, before his assistants arrived, and was quick to pull her inside once he emerged. The interior of the lab was a lot messier than she remembered, cluttered with papers, small gadgets, and machinery everywhere. Among them were two new devices, nestled between the large bookshelves of the side room.

“Alright Lucas, what is it you wanted to show me?” Dawn asked impatiently.

“Theses.” He pointed at the machines, one was cylindrical with a glass barrier controlling access to a slot inside, the other flat, almost like a display case with its transparent frame, revealing all manners of wires and electronics. “These are very special equipment recovered from Galactic Co.’s HQ at Veilstone four years ago, after the bombings and Saturn’s death. They were in evidence storage for a while, until it came up as a bid since the law no longer has any use for them. One of my assistants noticed, and so we brought it here.”

“If it’s something Cyrus made, it couldn’t have been good.” She crossed her arms, unconvinced.

“Well, we’re not Cyrus, but this is also about him a little.” She craned a suspicious eyebrow as Lucas continued. “I was able to finally reverse engineered these machines, but they each need a catalyst of some sort. Since these were made by Cyrus, I decided to do a little research. It turns out, the coroner back then was able to recover curious item from his body. It’s been marked as a personal belonging ever since, but since Cyrus had no family to speak of, no one bothered to claim it, until I did a few weeks ago.”

A lot happened on that fateful night, Dawn recalled, but Cyrus certainly didn’t mention this to her. Perhaps it was his original plan, before being threatened at gun point by Roseanne to reverse the rifts.

“What did you find?” she asked, fully invested.

From his pocket, Lucas produced an oddly shaped sphere, red and angular in its mysterious design. Its opening was sealed shut with a stone carving, masked with a pattern Dawn didn’t recognise.

“This, I think, is called an Origin Ball,” he explained. “From what I can find out, it was made with the power of the Red Chain imbued into a pokeball.”

“Now that does sound like something Cyrus would do,” said Dawn drly.

“Precisely. Apparently, it has the power to revert Dialga and Palkia to their Origin forms.”

“I didn’t know they had Origin forms, but I suppose if Giratina had one, it would parse that so would they.”

“Exactly. I’ve managed to capture them, right here.” Lucas produced another Origin Ball, identical to the first, in his other hand. “The second ball I made through the science of reverse engineering.”

“Wow.” Dawn put a hand on his shoulder, impressed. “I didn’t know you could do that. Great job, Lucas.”

“I didn’t actually do it, the capture part I mean. Barry did it for me, after I told him it was a favour for you,” Lucas confessed, scratching his hair. “That’s why he knew about it at dinner a few days back.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank him afterwards. But I still don’t understand what this favour of yours is.”

“If my deductions are correct, it could be anything. Here, put that into the other machine.”

The slots on the contraptions began to make sense to Dawn, as she and Lucas placed the Origin Balls into their respective container. They began to light up, electronic veins coursing through their construction. Lucas grabbed a huge power cable, connecting them to each other, then to a console stuck to the wall.

“This button here.” He pointed. “Should activate these things. How they work I can’t know for sure, but since we have the power of space and time on our side, perhaps you’d like to make a wish?”

Dawn stared at him.

“A wish?”

“I can’t say with great confidence, but I don’t see a reason why there should be a limit. I tested the circuitries to make sure they work, but I’ve not placed the balls in yet in fear of them exploding after use or something. That’s why I want you to be here.”

Dawn joined him in front of the console. A singular blue button was in front of her, representing potentially limitless possibilities. The situation has finally unravelled in her mind.

“I,” she stammered, “thank you, Lucas. Even if this doesn’t work, I think you’ve tried your best.”

“All this time, I’ve felt really guilty for not being able to help at all, while you’ve never said no to anyone. So, this is the least I could do.”

Dawn nodded, and turned to the console. She took a deep breath. Anxiety and anticipation both settled into her thoughts, as her finger hovered over the casing. It was never a question of what she would wish for, but she didn’t know if she could handle the disappointment should the it not work. But is that a reason to not try?

She flipped open the casing.

Chapter Text

Dear reader(s),

This is the first piece of serial fanfiction I’ve completed since the move to Ao3 in 2017. If you didn’t know, I used to have a fanfiction.net account that you can find at https://www.fanfiction.net/~lightredemption. There, you can also find an older version of Silverlite, among other things.

The original Silverlite took a little under two years to finish, clocking at eighty thousand words. The new one took six, clocking around seventy thousand words. Did it need six?

Certainly not.

For those that bothered to track, for the last 7 chapters or so, the pace was a new chapter every week, and more. Could I have done that the entire time? Probably. Did I?

Certainly not.

I could draw up a million excuses, but life bores me, and its retelling would certainly bore you. Just consider it a personal failing of mine, for which I apologise.

There are upsides, I suppose, to my embarrassing procrastination. Legend Arceus was announced and released during this time. I borrowed a lot of elements from the Sinnoh prequel for the latter chapters, as you can see, which I certainly didn’t have access to when I began this in 2019. If Legend Arceus hadn’t existed, would I still be able to finish Silverlite-N? I’d like to think so, but I won’t consider myself an impartial observer.

I’m a big talker in my personal life, in contrast to my literary output. That in mind, I’d like to take this time to say thank you for reading, and especially those of you who left comments. I cannot find it in myself to ask for them, but know that I appreciate them, more than you know.

A more focused confession: I started Silverlite-N as a “remaster” project. Instead, I ended up changing a lot of significant plot points from the original, perhaps to keep myself guessing. Once again, an entirely different story emerged beneath my proverbial pen. It’s still too fresh for me to take a step back and evaluate whether or not I think the new attempt was better, but I have accomplished a few resolutions I set out for myself, to some minor satisfaction. As for what they are, I suppose I’ll have to keep some secret.

Lastly, this afterword should be published after the epilogue. If you haven't seen that one, it's there. I did say I was finished, but there will still be one more chapter after this. It’s already written, mind you, but it is slated for next week since I’ve yet to do any editing. Afterwards, I’ll probably do an overhaul for the whole project, using six years of hindsight. Rest assured, dear readers, that there won’t be any significant updates, just editing. You won’t get any notifications, as it’s something I do only for the purpose of upkeeping standards.

Maybe one day, I’ll be here to shill my own original work. It might come out before Winds of Winter, if I’m lucky. As always, I can only hope you’ve gotten more joy out of reading this than I did writing it.

Until next time,

CynthiaCrescent

Chapter Text

Winter came as it always did, albeit later than usual this year.

Candice wiped the bathroom mirror with a hand towel, but it fogged up again in no time. Clicking her tongue in frustration, she squinted, trying to make out what she could from the ever-half-clear reflection. Behind her, the door opened.

“Candice?” Maylene was at looking in, her pink hair drooping under the indoor temperature. “Are you done? People are waiting for us.”

“I’ll be right there.” Candice took a quick glance, paused, then turned her head for a quick inspection. “You look good.”

Maylene stood by the doorway in a full tangzhuang made of black silk, the unbuttoned collar raised up to her chin. The suit hugged her lean but muscular form, showing off all the correct muscles.

“And you look beautiful whether or not your lipstick is the correct shade of cherry red.” Maylene sighed. “Not until we started dating do I realise just how much time you spend on these things. I thought you were as easy going as me.”

Candice placed one hand on her hips.

“One of us has to care about how we look as a couple.” She grabbed Maylene’s collar and button it up. The other woman made a playful pretence of being suffocated. However, Candice lingered a little longer. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

Maylene made a face.

“Of course you are. How many times do I have to say it?”

She lifted her girlfriend off the ground, and spun. Candice’s long, light blue dress fluttered, as she light-heartedly protested. This became tiring within the minute. The two spared a mutual glance, before bursting into laughter.

“Sorry,” said Candice. “We can go.”

“Thank you.”

Maylene took her hand, and led her to the atrium of Hearthome City’s Super Contest Hall. There, a few dozen people were present, each huddled around a circular dining table. Their eyes were on the new arrivals, piercing the cloud of whispers.

“Sorry,” said Maylene, “fashion emergency. It’s all good now.”

She led Candice to the far-left table, where three others were already sitting. However, attention was then on the stage, where a platinum-haired woman was front-and-centre, an oversized microphone in her hand.

“Thank you all for coming to the third annual Sinnoh Leaders Conference. As you’re all aware, I am the representative of the Frontier Brains, host, and sponsor for this gala.”

Maylene rolled her eyes in secret, but she was almost sure Lady Caitlin was able to see it. Still, the woman didn’t stop.

“Unlike some of might think, I didn’t elect myself representative,” said Caitlin, sarcasm dripping with every line. “Unfortunately, due to extraneous circumstances, the Frontier Brain of the Battle Tower is otherwise occupied. Nevertheless, I was assured that she’s in good health, and will be joining us on the Battle Zone when the league resumes next week.”

Dawn sneezed.

“Are you alright? Is the heat not warm enough?” asked a concerning voice next to her.

“No, it’s nothing.” She scratched her nose. “My nose is just itchy.”

She was sitting by a fireplace, her legs resting beneath her favourite kotatsu. The surface was made of oak wood, glossy and easy to clean, something she handpicked for her small apartment. Next to her was a woman with long, blond hair, front bang covering one of her eyes. She was garbed in a thin light-brown sweater, the cheap kind.

“I wouldn’t want you to be sick.” Cynthia reached for the controls of the electric blanket, turning it up slightly. “This should help.”

Dawn murmured some inane thoughts, before nestling her head into the blonde’s arms. They were almost the same height then.

“How is it going with your grandmother’s house?” she asked.

“The bureaucracy is unbelievably complex. Since she had no living relatives, it has become a historical building while I was gone. The new mayor seemed sympathetic to my cause, but his hands are busy trying to help me get my papers in order.”

“Well,” Dawn mused, “you could always just stay here.”

Cynthia flashed a thoughtful smile.

“I think I’ll do so, at least for now.”

“Great.” Dawn didn’t know what to do with her hands, except opening and closing them excitedly. “I was afraid you were going to say no, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I think…” Cynthia mulled over the thought, “I think I’m done denying myself. Dying has given me a new perspective. Four years was a long time, but I’m glad that you still cared enough to wish me back like you did. If I wasn’t dead, I’d fear you’d found someone else.”

Dawn furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance.

“How could you think that? Do you not understand that you’ll always be my woman?”

Cynthia chuckled.

“I suppose I have little choice in the matter, now that my grandmother’s gone.” She reached out with a slender finger, gently lifting the cheek of her companion. “Not that I have anything against being yours.”

“Well,” said Dawn, despite her flusters, “you have more admirers than you realise. I see a man called Steven Stone at your grave every year, on your death anniversary. We never talked much, but he seemed to be a big fan.”

“Oh? Then I should tell him that I’m alive.”

“No!” Dawn buried her face in the blonde’s lap, failing to hide her flagrant jealousy as her voice came out muffled. “I mean… not yet. I don’t want a man, or anyone else, to be pining after you.”

“I believe we have already established that I was yours, Dawn.” Cynthia bent down and planted a kiss on her lover’s cheek, which turned crimson in response. “But there’s no rush. For the first time, I think time is on our side.”

Dawn turned her head to look up, coy eyes brimming with longing.

“Can I have another kiss? A serious one?”

As their lips met, their warmth poured into one another’s, an immodest hunger indescribable. A rapturous jolt signalled those lips to part, making way for something more primal, more intimate, more breathtaking. It was a supple glory, in a way only two women can grant to one another. Their jaws trembled and stiffened, wallowing in seemingly everlasting epiphany.

The hearth flickered when they finally separated. Dawn’s eyes glazed over, stuck in a daze.

“I hope that was to your satisfaction,” said Cynthia, a foxy smirk on the corner of her mouth, to no immediate reply.

Presently, Dawn’s consciousness clawed out of the blissful fog it was in. She covered her face in embarrassment.

“That…” she stammered. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Don’t.” Dawn wave an outstretched hand in protest. “Don’t you do that with anyone else.”

Cynthia caught Dawn’s hand in her own, their fingers interlacing. She brought it close, then planted a kiss on the palm.

“I promise.”

Dawn’s expression scrunched up into an undiscernible mess.

“I can’t deal with you being like this,” she protested. “When did you become so… honest?”

Cynthia giggled, the type of giggle where one’s eyes did not close, only narrowed in a predatory gaze.

Suddenly, Dawn snapped her fingers. She sprung forthright, pointing an index finger in the air in great revelation.

“I just remembered something. Wait here.”

Dawn disappeared into her modest attic without another word. Sounds of cardboard boxes moving across the wooden flooring could be heard from below. It was not until fifteen minutes later, did she descend, carrying a shrink-wrapped piece of clothing. Dawn tore apart the plastic wrap and removed the hanger, before unfurling the iconic black fur coat that has been stocked in her attic for years. She handed it over to its rightful owner. Cynthia checked it over, to see that it was in near-pristine condition.

“This had more holes in it, the last time I wore it,” she mused.

“I had it restored, covering up all the tears and cuts. I’d have liked to do that myself, but I think that’d just end up getting more blood on it.”

Dawn’s voice trailed off as she stared. Cynthia pulled the modest sweater off her torso, revealing the sleeveless cyan shirt beneath, and a bit of her smooth midriff. Her voluminous hair draped onto her shoulders, as she put on the coat, its contours hugging her own like it has done so many years before. With a graceful flick, she pushed her hair behind the collar of the coat and buttoned the front.

“How do I look?”

Dawn blinked twice, before tears started to well behind her eyes. Cynthia hastily kneeled down, wearing a concerned expression.

“What's wrong?”

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” Dawn’s words came out barely legible as she struggled to choke them out. “I can’t count how many nights I’ve cried myself to sleep over the last four years, wishing you'd be there when I woke up.”

The confession didn’t make Cynthia worry any less.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say.

A sombre mood overtook the room, until Dawn found it in herself to speak again.

“For the first few months, my mom insisted I slept with her, like when I was a little girl. She would coddle me, fearing I would go off the rail if left alone.”

“That does sound like Johanna,” Cynthia commented, her tone cautious.

“Eventually, I bought this place, far away from her just to get some space, but that only made me lonelier.” Dawn let out a sarcastic chuckle. “But that’s over with. Everything’s fine now. This isn’t a dream.”

Her head idly shook.

“It’s not.” Her hands began to tremble. “You're real.” A forced smile crept up on her face. “Please tell me it’s not.”

Cynthia drew her into a gentle embrace, and felt those quivering limbs calmed in her grasp as their scents and co-dependency intermingled. A silent weeping started and ended without another word. Presently, it was only the quiet beatings of their hearts that remained: a slow, incessant series of thumps to remind them they were alive, for the moment. All anyone could ever do was live.

“I love you,” she whispered.

That would have to be enough.