Chapter Text
The room is dark, the only light and warmth emanating from the bright blue coals of the brazier in the center of the room. Abomatons and coven scouts line the outside of the circular space, and shadows flicker as the nine coven heads file in one by one. Eberwolf and Darius in the front of the group exchange a glance that Hunter, standing at Belos’s side, interprets as contempt (not that he’s biased, or anything) as Kikimora’s high pitched voice pipes up.
She goes on about how well the coven heads are doing to unite magic— Hunter doesn’t always listen when she speaks in these meetings honestly. He perks up when his uncle speaks however, the mostly finished portal door towering behind him.
“Step forward.” The coven heads take their pins from their cloaks, each adorned with their respective coven sigils, and place them in the slots lining the outside of the brazier.
The fire flares, and the coven heads stiffen.
The Emperor’s voice echoes around the entrance chamber as he speaks. “The larger your covens grow, the more power we have to unite our realms, where the worthy shall inherit a utopia free of wild magic, and of the Pokémon created from its unfettered infestation.”
The coven heads, still caught in the shared vision, wide eyes glowing a pure white and the stark light on their faces dancing in the vibrance of the blue flame, barely react. Judging by their grimaces, Hunter thinks that the magic seems to be putting a strain on them.
Fire crackling, the near silence of the room is broken in the next moment by a low, wet noise of pain from Hunter’s right. Hunter turns to see his uncle hunched over slightly in his seat, clutching one hand to his chest and visibly shaking. Alarmed, he quickly offers his arm out for his emperor to take, which the ruler uses to haul himself to his feet with a concerning amount of effort that only Hunter can feel through the heavy pull on his arm.
The coven heads know that the emperor is ill, of course; it would be a difficult thing to hide short of executing everyone who has caught a glimpse of his uncle’s bouts of illness, and scouts talk. They are not aware, however, of precisely how much his condition affects him, and Hunter knows the emperor intends to keep it that way.
So, as they make their way hurriedly (but not too hurriedly) out of the chamber, Hunter doesn’t allow himself to show how much weight the Emperor is leaning into the elbow Hunter is supporting with his forearm, hidden by their cloaks as it is. The Emperor keeps his back straight, only his head bowed, despite the pain he must be in. Hunter pauses their progress however, when he hears the familiar, aggravating sound of small clawed feet tapping on the floor behind them, making to follow them into the throne room. His uncle’s breath rasps out more heavily and wetly than before, and anxiety spikes in Hunter’s chest. His breath only rasps like that when—
He pushes it down, turning to address the demon behind him, “No. Stay here. I can handle this alone.” He says, tone brooking no argument. Normally, he would take a small amount of pleasure at the small growl Kikimora lets out as he and Emperor Belos continue the short trek to the tall doors of the throne room chamber, but he doesn’t have any room in his head for that at the moment.
What will it be this time? He thinks, adrenaline spiking as the doors close behind them with a thud. His uncle pushes off of him, stumbling further away from Hunter.
Hunter readies his staff in one hand and reaches into the back pocket of his cloak with the other— and comes up empty, swearing internally.
Okay, okay, this is fine, totally fine. It sounds wet, but doesn’t rattle, so that could mean water— so I just need to get to the bond storage —
He runs out of time to plan as his uncle falls to his hands and knees, mask clattering to the floor as he heaves. Hunter doesn’t stay to watch his uncle’s spine twist and his body undulate wetly as he struggles for control, bolting for the storage compartment to the side of the room. Magenta light builds and filters in through the eyeslits of Hunter’s mask.
He makes it to the compartment, opening the small, reinforced door with a creak. The light from his uncle’s curse illuminates the nearly bare insides of the cabinet, and as such, when it detonates he sees the light shine off the polished wood of the ball. He brings up an energy shield with his staff half a second too late, as what feels like drops of boiling hot water spray on his back only an instant before the red energy is in place, but it’s enough that he doubles over, folding his body over the very last ball from the compartment.
Well, that’s a problem for future Hunter.
Hot pain stings Hunter’s back even through his armor and he straightens, checking that the ball is safe. He pants through the pain and unclasps his cloak. It sizzles as it hits the floor of the chamber.
Huh, he thinks a little dazedly, acid.
He turns, hurrying over to his uncle and pro-offering the ball to the man. He takes it with a shaking hand, pink aura still shimmering around his body and liquid that burns dripping down his thankfully solid arm.
Uncle takes the wood half of the ball in one hand and Apricorn half in the other. The wood crunches between the emperor’s gauntleted fingers as he takes each hand and twists them in opposite directions, the hinges and tumble stone being rent in two with a scream. Wispy pink energy streams from the destroyed ball into the holes of his uncle’s mask, the glowing blue of his eyes visible for a second before winking out.
Unnatural and distorted, the cry of a Pokémon rings weakly through the room.
The pink glow dims and goes out, leaving only the light from the remaining torches to illuminate the space.
Why anyone would bond with such a pest is beyond me, Hunter thinks.
Still, the image of a small, dark purple rat Pokémon with large front teeth and a tail ending in a curly shape forms in Hunter’s mind.
He knows its name, but doesn’t dare think it in his uncle’s presence. The ruler of the boiling isles is well known, at least throughout the castle, to have a dislike for the creatures. (And is rumored to have the ability to read minds.)
Hunter thinks that it was a Pokémon that caused his uncle’s curse in the first place. Hunter has researched and theorized from the Titan’s skull down to its toes as to which Pokémon it could've been, still coming to no solid conclusions after years of work.
“I need more.” His uncle’s voice rasps from behind his mask.
Hunter falters. “That- was the last from our reserves. Apricorn plants and fruits have been overharvested.”
His uncle turns away from him with a grunt, seemingly dissatisfied, or angry. Hunter isn’t sure which but it makes anxiety squirm in his gut, along with the want to help his uncle, who has given him so much.
“Uncle, let me help! We can make more Pokémon bonds! Actually, I read about this technique using wild magic to—”
“Enough! You’ve ‘helped’ quite enough, don’t you think?” His uncle says icily. “First you forget to have a Pokéball on your person, then you speak of wild magic as if it could be a boon?”
Hunter shrinks under his raised voice, fear writhing in his chest like one of Eberwolf’s Sevipers. He had hoped his uncle wouldn’t notice his blunder, but that was foolish. Even under the effects of his curse, his uncle is the most powerful witch on the isles, of course he would notice!
“I-I’m sorry, Uncle!” He bows his head, ashamed. Knowing what comes next, he waits, and it’s all he can do not to shake as he braces himself for the coming blow.
A slap rings out through the throne room, and Hunter finds himself on the floor seeing stars, mask skittering away from him as he crumples. His scarred cheek throbs, but he knows better than to bring a hand up to clutch at it.
He blinks away the reflexive tears gathering in his eyes, ears ringing, only glad that his uncle’s cursed outburst had been expelled before his punishment.
“You know how I hate to do that, Hunter.” His uncle says sadly. “But it’s the only way you learn.”
“Y-yes, Uncle.” He pulls himself to his knees, standing quickly enough that it makes his head spin. “I’m sorry, Uncle.” He says guiltily, knowing in his heart that his uncle is right, and hating that he has to make his uncle hurt to teach him such a simple lesson.
His uncle takes a step forward, and Hunter nearly flinches despite himself, expecting another blow, but his Uncle only places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Please, be careful.” His uncle says, voice low and silky. “Our family is gone because of wild magic. I can’t let the same happen to you.”
His hand tightens painfully on Hunter’s shoulder, and the fear writhes more frenetically, and he swears one of those Seviper is trying to crawl its way up his throat. Hunter does his best to not let it show on his face.
“I have half a mind to give your mission to Kikimora. However, I’m prepared to give you another chance. Find me more Bonded Pokémon. I can depend on you, right?”
Hunter nods frantically, the movement pulling at the burns on his back, “Of course, Uncle! I will find you Infinity-Bonded Pokémon.” He says, cool relief washing through him.
“Good.” His uncle lets go of his shoulder, turning to survey the damage done to the room, as they usually do after one of his uncle’s… outbursts.
Hunter nearly slumps in relief at the absence of that touch, but holds himself still with years of training, mentally shaking off his feelings of apprehension.
There are places where the stone floor has melted away, particularly around the area where his uncle had collapsed. Easy enough for Hunter to fix with some delicate construction magic.
The tapestries and wall sconces though, his uncle will have to reconstruct.
Hunter raises his staff, ready to start repairing the floors, but his uncle puts up a hand.
“No. You have a mission ahead of you, don’t waste time refurbishing the throne room.”
Hunter lowers his staff, the red gem atop it glinting in the torchlight. “Thank you, Uncle.” He bows, then winces as the wounds on his back are pulled taught.
“Oh, and do be quicker with your shield next time. I’ve taught you better than that.”
Hunter feels a stone sink into his stomach, heartbeat picking up once again at the disappointment in his uncle’s voice.
“Yes, Uncle.”
He picks up his mask and places it on his face, leaving with one last bow towards his uncle.
----------------------------------------------------
The sun shines brightly down on the Grudgby Field, the clouds puffy above the red trees that, despite all her time here, sometimes still remind Luz of fall in the human realm.
Luz scans the students around her, looking for a witch with a head of purple hair, disappointed, despite her excitement at getting a bondmate, to not find her in the crowd.
“Hey Willow,” Luz says, turning to her friend, “Shouldn’t Amity be here?”
“Oh, sorry Luz, I heard she stayed home today.” Willow replies. “Oh. That… actually makes sense.” Luz says, looking off to the side as she remembers how she had lost Amity her job, then gotten it back via so many trials that she thought that the librarian rivaled the Bat Queen in pettiness, (She shudders as she remembers milking that Ariados) and then… Well, she’s pretty sure that her brain had partially melted out her ears when Amity, gorgeous in all her cotton candy haired glory, had given her a kiss on the cheek in thanks.
And Luz had totally bluescreened! She wasn’t sure how she should’ve reacted honestly, but she definitely shouldn’t have knelt to the ground like her knees were made of jelly!
Principal Bump and Eda walk to stand in front of the whispering gathering of students. Behind them, Luz notices, is a large brown egg-like structure with knots and whorls of wood going through it, and what appears to be a small door in the front of it.
“Good tidings on this momentous day,” Principal Bump begins, and Luz’s attention zeroes in on him, “You’re all about to receive your witches’ staffs, and more importantly, meet your Bondmates.”
Luz is nearly vibrating with anticipation.
“Bonded Pokémon are lifelong partners, they can become both your good friends and a powerful ally.” Principal Bump continues.
Luz remembers the first Pokémon she had seen in the boiling isles; a Flygon, gliding in the sky like the apex predator she was sure it knew it was as she and Eda had flown away from the Bonesborough Market on Owlbert’s staff form. She had been sure, then, that she was dreaming.
She hadn’t been, and was so much happier for it.
“In my case,” Principal Bump snaps his fingers, and what Luz now realizes is an Impidimp perched on his shoulders unlatches its jaw from around the top half of his face, and Luz should probably be more focused on that but Principal Bump’s hair is so long and silky! “Freewin, here, helps me see.”
He holds the small, bipedal pink Pokémon to his chest, its dark purple tongue hanging out of its mouth slightly (just like the fictional ones in the human realm!) as its wide lips curled up into what she thinks is a smile and it cuddles close to its witch.
Then, unlike in the human realm, when Principal Bump puts it back in its ball, with a spark of magic, a long staff extends from the bottom, which Bump places the butt of firmly in the grass.
Luz isn’t sure how the developers at Gamefreak had managed to mess that up.
The widely held theory (or, at least what Eda claimed to be the widely held theory) as to why some Pokémon on the Boiling Isles existed in the human realm as fictional animals in a video game is that naturally occurring dimensional portals from the demon realm could open up into the dreamscapes of humans, allowing them glimpses of the creatures that they chalked up to being original ideas.
Emphasis on some Pokémon. At one point, Luz had made a list of all the Pokémon in the human realm that she could remember, and over half of them didn’t exist in the Isles.
Turns out that some ideas for Pokémon really were original (but only the really boring ones, in Luz’s opinion).
Her attention snaps back to the present as Eda cuts in.
“Now, traditionally, young witches harvest an Apricorn from an Apricorn tree, craft it into a ball, and then bond with a Pokémon that they are compatible with who also wants a bond,” She grins at Owlbert, and the Dartix hoots playfully back in response, shuffling closer to her from where he stands on the ground. Luz knows that he misses perching on Eda’s shoulder or arm like he used to as a small Rowlet; He still does it when Eda isn’t paying attention, and knocks her off balance with his weight frequently.
Luz grins at the memory, holding in giggles.
“But sadly,” Bump continues, cupping Freewin’s ball delicately in one long-fingered hand, “Apricorn plants are becoming more rare, and those that remain are guarded covetously.”
“That’s why I’ve teamed up with Bumpipoo—” “Never call me that.”
“— To bring you—”
Wind buffets the field in great gusts as a giant Swoobat swoops in, alighting on the perch built on top of the egg-like structure, her blue fur and curly tail waving in the breeze.
‘Pokémon adoption day!’ The Bat Queen finishes in Luz’s head as she folds her black wings at her sides, and from the gasps of surprise behind her, Luz guesses that it was projected into the heads of all of her fellow Hexsidians on the field too.
There is the echoing ring of Pokéballs opening, and Pokémon step out of the door one by one. Luz sees a Girafarig, a Budew, a Swanna, a Purrloin, and so many more that she can’t even take in all at once.
“They're so cute!” Luz wants to hug each and every one of them, but settles for bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, hands over her mouth as she squeals.
“Thanks for the favor, BQ—” Eda pauses, and Luz looks over to see that Owlbert has indeed jumped on Eda’s shoulder, cooing and rubbing his white feathered face on her cheek. She holds up her arm and he shuffles over to perch on that instead, a soft smile on the witch’s face. “Anyway, here’s your whistle back.”
The Bat Queen chitters in what Luz guesses is her version of a chuckle at the display, and Luz doesn’t ‘hear’ what the Bat Queen says back, her reply in Eda’s head only, but she doesn’t take back the whistle.
“No, you’re staying right here.” Luz swings her gaze to the left, watching as Principal Bump deposits a disgruntled-looking Fletchling back inside the enclosure, flapping its little gray wings and hopping agitatedly.
Luz swears that her heart grows three sizes. “Aw, little rascal!” she coos.
Her attention goes back to the Bat Queen as she ‘speaks’ again, the fangs protruding from her lower jaw slightly yellowed with age.
‘These little ones have not had homes in many years. They want to feel a connection, a bond. Their age is such that they have fused with their balls— they will not be caught anew, and must connect with their new witch with a much deeper bond. Kneel and state your deepest wish, and a like-minded Pokémon partner will find you.’
“Ugh, I want my own Pokémon, not some trashy hand-me-down!” Says a voice to Luz’s right.
Luz opens her mouth to exclaim that these Pokémon may be old, but they are also wise and experienced, not hand-me-downs, but Willow beats her to it.
“Your loss!” She says brightly, pushing past Boscha to the front of the enclosure. Willow gets to her knees, her green tights shifting in the dry grass. Luz is so excited for her friend that she thinks she’s going to burst like a shaken bottle of soda.
“I want to be strong and wise so I can protect everyone I love. And anyone who gets in my way will feel the sting of defeat.” She states succinctly.
The sound of a Pokéball bursting open resounds from inside the egg structure, and a small yellow shape comes flying out of it with a high-pitched whirring noise. It lands in Willow’s outstretched hands with a happy buzz, and Willow gasps delightedly, bringing the small Pokémon closer to her face for inspection.
“A Cutiefly!” Luz exclaims.
‘Now,’ The Bat Queen continues unexpectedly, ‘To complete the bond, you must give your partner some of your essence.’
“You mean… blood?” WIllow guesses timidly, even her newfound confidence quailing slightly in the face of the Bat Queen’s fathomless eyes.
‘Precisely.’ The Bat Queen confirms, blinking slowly down at Willow.
“Alright.” Willow says, nodding decisively.
“But isn’t blood magic like, really wild?” says a new voice. All eyes, including Luz’s, turn towards the speaker.
It’s one of Luz’s classmates, a witch of medium height with brown skin and two-toned gray and black hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Her uniform is the regal red of the Bard track.
One of Boscha’s followers, Luz thinks. Name starts with an ‘S’? Oh man this is gonna bother me for the rest of the day.
The young bard track witch lets out a little “Eep!” at everyone’s attention being on her, and she quavers slightly as the Bat Queen rests her great gaze on her form. Luz feels bad for her, even if she is one of Boscha’s cronies— having the Bat Queen’s focus on you is always daunting, especially the first time.
‘Blood magic is an ancient art, and is perhaps considered wild by witch-kind; it is needed however, to form a bond of this kind. If you cannot abide by this, leave.’ Her voice booms in their heads.
Eda cuts in with her most teacher-y voice. “Blood carries the highest concentration of magic in a witch’s body, being pumped directly from the heart, through the bile sac. So, it is essential to a bond not facilitated by the carving of an Apricorn.” She snorts in good humor, “Besides, Pokémon are wild by nature! Take it or leave it, kiddos.” Eda says, her voice switching back to its normal cadence.
“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to say that out loud…” She says, ears drooping.
“Very well young Skara.” Consoles Principal Bump. “Do not feel pressured to make a bond— bonds between witch and Pokémon that are not wholehearted rarely turn out favorably. That goes for the rest of you as well. Miss Park?” He prompts.
“Of course!” Willow says, looking up from where she had been gazing lovingly at her future partner. Nudging the Cutiefly to rest in only one hand, Willow takes her free one and brings it up to her mouth, puncturing her thumb with one of her sharp canine teeth. A bright red dot of blood seeps out of the wound, and Willow brings it down and presents it to the Cutiefly.
The Pokémon trills once, then hops forward with a flap of its translucent wings to suck up the blood with its short proboscis.
Willow and the Cutiefly stiffen as one, Willow’s eyes glowing pink for a brief moment before she relaxes, the Cutiefly transforming into a staff in her hands.
“Oh my gosh!” Willow says, and Luz can hear joy and wonder in her voice in equal measure.
I can’t wait to get my own! Luz thinks with excitement.