Outcast

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They were outcasts in every way; by appearance, by normality, but mostly, by what they were.

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Prologue: Unwanted

I was five years-old when my parents threw me out. They called me freak and literally chucked me out the window. I didn't understand then; I didn't know why they hated me so much, why they always called me stupid, or freak, or ugly, or how I didn't break my bones on the way out of a three-story window.

Heck, I didn't even know that I was adopted.

But I ran. I remember the day so vividly, so distinctly that it hurts to think about it.

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I hit the ground hard, my head spinning as it worked overtime to take in what had just happened. I was exceptionally talented, with an IQ equivalent to that of a fifth grader. Shaking my head and watching with slight amusement as snowflakes fell off my head, I looked up.

The skies were fairly clear, unusually so for a snowy afternoon. A few wispy clouds drifted lazily behind bare, smooth cedars and maples. That's when I ran. My wavy golden-copper hair billowed out behind me, trailing like a cape of shining colors. I wasn't wearing much, but I wasn't cold either, though my fingers were stuffed in my pockets in a nonchalant manner.

I just notice those things.

I also remember how I didn't pay attention to how fast I was going, or where I was going, but that I felt weightless, like I was merely a feather riding the breeze. Despite that though, I knew that in a matter of 14 minutes and 29 seconds, I'd traveled exactly 7.16 miles.

Impossible, I thought at the time.

Sitting down on a flat, slick rock implanted next to a glittering, frozen-over lake, I pulled out a pencil and some paper. Those things I carried around at all times for writing; an unusual habit for a child as young as I was. I remember the searing white pain as the paper slipped and slit a centimeter long cut across the tip of my second finger. Immediately, my left hand went to cradle it gently. I blew on it, trying to lessen the pain.

What I didn't expect was the tip to suddenly flicker with fire.

Although I was smart for my age, my maturity wasn't at the same level. I still had the heart of a five year-old, and, delighted with this new discovery, I blew on my other fingers. So my amazement, the harder I blew, the larger the flame, and I experimented with trying to control the flames. Literally, I acted like a child being given a new toy.

That afternoon, I learned something about my kind.

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I sighed, twirling the delicate stem of a daffodil and watching the wind ruffle its soft yellow petals. Here I was, at the exact same lake I first stopped by exactly eight years ago. There were more trees now, towering oaks and rowans were added to the mix. A young, bird-like creature was perched neatly on a high branch. The new stalks of grass swayed gently, and white muzzle of a Rattata poked out of a hole.

Slowly, it made its way to me.

"It's okay," I hummed softly, though not in English or Pokemon. Its ears flickered towards my voice, seeking the source. Intelligent black/brown eyes stared piercingly at me.

I laughed. Then, my phone rang, and that's when all the fun ended.

Sparks ignited at the Oak Laboratory. It was like someone had dropped a bomb, sending out shock-waves for at least a six-mile radius. Smoke twisted around the building, taunting the world.

My large Pidgeot form's keen eyesight allowed me to scan the building and survey the damage, not that I needed it, though. I almost choked with laughter. Suddenly, my vision targeted a small dent in the burnt walls, where it was still glowing a molten red. It immediately began breaking down and analyzing every small detail.

The sharp, undeniable scent of live human wafted through my mind, and with a deft twist of my wing, the thick smoke was ripped away by a miniature twister. There was a human there, lying pitifully on the ground, curled tightly into a half-moon shape. I sniffed disdainfully, my Pidgeot nature taking over.

They were proud, haughty birds that had no interest in helping humans, but did so because it was the only option.

I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts, and tucked my wings close to my side, tilting downwards at a steep angle. At the last minute, before I could kill the human or possibly shatter several bones, I pulled out of my dive-bomb. It was a man with graying hair and a slightly wrinkled but friendly face, though his expression was that of a grimace. Everyone knew him as the famous Professor Oak.

Then, instinct took over. Despite their attitude towards people, Pidgeot were naturally bred to carry passengers or important items around. Their thick, layered plumage made them resistant to water, which trickled harmlessly over the top layers that acted like a shield to protect their soft down feathers.

Their broad backs provided room for at least two people, and their powerful tail feathers acted as a steering wheel.

Their eyesight was infallible and precise; not a single detail was lost in their range of sight.

Delicately, I dropped him in a pile of moss and flew back to the fire.

Only to find others putting it out.

The fire had been reduced to nothing but a badly singed building with a few lines of steam simmering out from the still-burning steel walls. A beautiful cream, blue, and red-pink sea serpent hovered in the air, levitating solely on aura. The power emanating from its body was of an incredible magnitude, far more potent than even a Lucario, the aura guardian himself.

Its head swiveled upon my appearance. Then, a shudder racked its body, and I was staring into a pair of vibrant green eyes.

She was only a girl of - here, my mind did a scan of her aura - 13 years and four months. Her mousy brown hair was pushed back by a dark green headband adorned with pink and yellow jewels to form a lotus on the left side. A green tee-shirt that looked to big for her hung loosely on her petite frame with a matching pair of baggy white jeans with a green hibiscus curling on the legs.

Beside her, another figure suddenly dropped down. At first, I couldn't tell who, or what, it was, but then the shadowy tendrils rippled together to create the shadowy form of an older boy of 15. His violet eyes were cold and calculating, intimidating me with just one look. He had a better-fitting black jacket with intricate purple designs. His pants were black as well, and the only actual colorful part about him was his shoes, which were gold with, yet again, a streak of black thunder. His pale hand went to brush a lock of raven-black hair out of his face.

"What have you found, Kaz?" He asked, voice compelling and as melting as honey. The girl, presumably 'Kaz', shrugged, eyeing me warily before looking up at the boy again.

"Dunno, probably some type of Aerial or Ice, or - " She trailed off, staring at him in what seemed to be concern as he clenched his teeth. His eyes were deadly as he spoke.

"That - is not - an Aerial - or Ice. That - is a freaking - Elementalist," he snarled, visibly straining to keep his temper in check. Kaz stared up at him in shock, green eyes wide and unbelieving, searching his to find an ounce of falseness in them. I took a step back hesitantly, unsure of whether I should run or ask them that they were talking about.

"But there hasn't been one for so many million years!" Kaz protested. Um, yeah. Probably a good time to run. But before I could get any farther, I felt myself being lifted into the air and suddenly, I couldn't see the ground anymore. I did what any normal person would do in the situation.

I screamed. The guy holding me looked down and smirked mockingly.

"Don't waste your time; no one's going to hear you."

I should've noticed this earlier, but I realized that we were running at an impossible speed of 200 miles per hour inside of a shadowy realm.

Wow, I'm unobservant!

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