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The forest shrine is hidden within the shadows of towering trees, covered in soft moss and almost invisible if you don't know what you're looking for. The trees curve around it like ribs guarding a precious heart and as the beam of the trainer's flashlight swings across the tall grass, the shrine finally comes into view. Taking slow, cautious steps forward and ignoring the faint rustling noises of pokemon wandering through the forest at night, the trainer creeps closer and closer to where a faint sparkle of green comes in and out of vision. Hand outstretched, the trainer reaches out to touch the light and!
crackle!
crash!
thud!
With a faint groan the trainer's eyes open only to see that the night sky has changed. Different stars are spinning overhead, with constellations missing pieces but still shining just as bright.
A faint giggle catches the trainer's attention and from nearby a green sparkle flashes. There, right in front of the trainer's eyes is the Voice of the Forest, Celebi, covering its face to desperately stem the flow of musical giggles spilling from its mouth. When it notices the line of sight locked onto its body, it flutters closer and the trainer goes still, mesmerized by the sight of its gossamer wings dusted with starlight.
When the stars cease their spinning, Celebi nudges at the trainers hands and waits patiently for the wobbling to stop. A few steps later the trainer has regained equilibrium and Celebi trills its excitement and spins in the air before darting off. What other choice is there but to follow? This forest is just as dark as the one before but with no flashlight the way ahead is lit only by Celebi's verdant glow.
As the trainer chases, the surrounding scenery flickers and fades, wavering like an old film. Still, Celebi flies forward. As the distance between them shortens Celebi comes to a screeching halt mid-flight. A furious mew drifts through the air followed by an angry crystalline chime. The forest flares with light and golden flames swallowing the sky. The crackling heat is doused by a frigid wind and the ground heaves and cracks as jagged ice races to shatter against fire. Before the impact can happen green sparks cover both forces of nature and the silence is immediate, both sudden and deafening.
The combatants emerge from two sides of the forest to meet in the middle. From the left a Vanillite swathed in cold white clouds, its form difficult to see until it floats forward, crystals of ice bathed in moonlight. From the right a Litten with wickedly sharp claws and rivers of lava flowing under its footsteps, golden eyes unfazed by the interruption.
With Celebi in the middle, a hush falls. The tableau is painted in bold colors and the stars look down and lend their light, golden flames held in place and cut lines of ice standing unmelted, until the standoff is broken by three sounds in succession.
click.
flash.
whirr .
Now with all eyes trained upon it, the camera spits out a picture and within its inky darkness an image slowly becomes clear. The trainer does not dare to breathe. The Litten pads forward on silent paws and brings with it heat of a thousand kinds, the sun on clear day, red metals melting into new shapes, the first mouthful of a meal cooked with love. The Vanillite is not far behind and its presence tempers the heat as it sighs into being the gentle cool of a fresh snow on an upturned face, the breaking of white glaciers into deeper blue, the satisfying crunch of a cold treat shared with friends. In silence, they watch the picture take shape under curious eyes.
When it finally forms, the opposing temperatures lessen and fade away. The polaroid is brought into clear vision, the awestriking tableau captured in full detail.
The Litten makes a delighted mrrp and the Vanillite, not one to be outdone, floats forward and emits a musical chirp. They circle the picture and behind them, Celebi meets the trainers eyes and gives a sigh of exaggerated relief. A moment later it begins to glow with deep green light that pours from its body and spills across the forest. It feels like a shared secret, like the embrace a long-lost friend, like shared smiles next to a patch of flowers with the blooms winding close.
What is there to do but stay?
When the night sky holds all of the same stars again, the trainer's hands trail across the shrine's soft moss greeted by soft laughter lost to the wind and a sparkle of green. The shrine holds three offerings. A crystal cut into the shape of a looking glass, comfortably cold to the touch, with a faint chime ringing from its tapped surface. An amber stone, gold all the way through and radiating heat that warms the body to the core, with all the sun's might locked inside.
The last offering remains with the shrine.
When the first rays of sunlight shine down through the trees, the light catches on the faded colors of a polaroid photograph. The description has four signatures on it, one signed by pen with a pair of wings, one stamped by pawprint and the last two drawn, an ice crystal detailed in white-blue and a leaf in light green. The photograph remains unmoved, even as the wind passes and kicks up a flurry of colorful leaves and the great trees begin to close back around the shrine.
It stays there forever, untouched by time, just as it always has.