Stanley ran through the woods—but with all of the briars and bushes, he was hopping more than running. He eventually found a trail that zigzagged through the woods, and he picked up speed. "Logan, wait up!" he called. He could just barely spot Logan's uniform ahead. Tretters flew above him, no longer saying anything. That was good enough for Stanley, because seeing his Pokémon talk was incredibly unnerving.

"Poison Sting!" he heard Logan say up ahead. After a moment he added, "Well… just do it!"

"That doesn't sound good," Tretters commented in midair.

"Is that some sort of attack?" Stanley asked. "I think I know it from somewhere."

"He's poisoning something, obviously," Tretters said.

That couldn't end well. "Logan!" Stanley called again, reaching a break in the woods. Logan and Rachel stood there, lit up in the bright sun as if under a spotlight, and Rachel was on the ground.

"Loooogan…" she moaned. "What's… wrong with you? You idiot—humans get poisoned, too!"

"I-I thought…" Logan said. He glanced down at his Nidorina helplessly.

The Nidorina threw her little hands up. "Wasn't my fault." She glanced at Tretters, and added defensively, "I mean, it was me, but Logan told me to do it. He practically tossed me at her, saying Poison Sting, so what else was I supposed to do?"

"You can talk, too?" Stanley said in disbelief. Something must've hit him in the head on the way, or infected his brain, because Pokémon were speaking to him all of a sudden.

"It's okay, Nidorina," Tretters said, flapping over to her. "It's easy to cure your poison."

"Logan's a doofus," she said. "Always overreacting to everything."

As the two Pokémon talked, Logan ran up to Stanley. "You take her to the hospital. I bet they can heal her up easily—"

"Whoa, wait," Stanley said. "You did this, so you have to take her."

"I… I thought the attack would just get her attention and get her to stop," Logan explained. "I didn't think it would—"

"You didn't think something called 'Poison Sting' would poison me?" Rachel said sourly. "I could imagine a rookie Ranger saying that, but not you." She sat up, trembling a little. "Logan, no matter what crap you pull, I'm going to… tell the Prof…" The poison seemed to defeat her, and she hunched over, unconscious.

Tretters folded his wings. "Humans are seriously stupid."

"Well, Logan is, at least," Nidorina said. "I can't believe this is happening."

"I think Logan will do anything to try and fix things... but he sure likes to make things spiral out of control, doesn't he?"

"Where are you going?" Stanley cried. Logan was acting even more rashly than he usually did, running away like he had murdered someone.

"I killed her, that's probably it. She just died. I saw her die," he said in an intense, melodramatic voice. "I have to run away from here, and you're going to cover for me." He picked up the Nidorina, petting her as if in forgiveness for the attack she faithfully executed.

"Why would I cover for you?" Stanley said. He crouched down and felt Rachel's wrist. "She's not dead… There's a pulse here, you know—"

But Logan was gone already. The trampling of leaves underfoot told Stanley which way he went, but he'd never catch up. Logan was the better runner.

"What now?" Stanley asked his bird. "Logan's going to do something stupid again, but Rachel's poisoned…"

"Go get Simon, he's big enough to carry Rachel," Tretters suggested. I'll stay here to make sure nothing happens to her. Go on."

"You're pushier than I thought you'd be—"

"She's poisoned, Stanley."

And with that, the confused Ranger hit the trail again and made his way to the nearest Ranger building.

Stanley burst through the automated double doors, halting the activity around him. Everyone stared in shock as he said, "Rachel's poisoned. Has anyone seen Simon or someone else who'll carry her?"

Nobody responded. The base's one receptionist gaped, letting phone calls ring unanswered. People waiting for the elevator stared at him, and the elevator came and left with no passengers. The few Rangers loitering in the lobby looked at Stanley like he had come to rob the place or something.

Then the Rangers murmured to each other nervously.

"What do you think it's doing?" one said.

Another Ranger stood up from a bench by the wall. "Never seen one like that before," he said.

"Must be some tourist's," the receptionist said with disapproval. "Some people just let 'em loose. Probably that cruise ship. We'll have a hundred missing Pokémon reports by tomorrow…"

"You ever seen anything like that?" said the second Ranger.

"No, man," said the first, approaching his friend. "Stanley's the bird expert… but wow, I love the colors."

Stanley took a step forward. "Guys?" he said faintly. "It's me." He looked at the last Ranger to speak—a relatively new one, with thin rectangular glasses and a uniform that looked like it had been thrown on in ten seconds. His name was Larry, or something. "I'm Stanley," Stanley told him.

Larry stepped back, like Stanley was somehow threatening him. "You got this?" he asked his friend quickly. "It looks tough."

Larry's friend glanced back, but the only other Rangers were behind the counter. And the people by the elevator had since escaped to another floor. "Well, fine…" Larry's friend said tentatively, "but if he's too strong, you better help me." The Ranger pulled out his Styler, and the top quickly darted around the room like a possessed toy. It formed shaky, squiggly loops around Stanley, who was simply dumbstruck by what was going on.

"Well gee, this is an easy capture," the receptionist said, losing interest in the scene. "Tell me what species that is when you get it."

"Guys, this isn't funny," Stanley said, watching the Styler loop around him. He would stand there sternly, until the Rangers realized the prank couldn't faze him. "I need your help."

After about a dozen loops, Stanley suddenly felt his senses shift. He was a bit lower to the ground, and his vision was much sharper, but he felt like the Styler was actually having an effect on him.

"Relax," the Styler seemed to say. "I don't mean any harm."

"Guys?" Stanley tried to ask. But only a timid squawk come out. "What's going on?" More startling eagle sounds came from his mouth—his beak.

"Don't worry," the Styler went on. "We're completely harmless. You're the one with the power."

Stanley stopped to think. Is… is that what the Styler said to Pokémon? And… and did that mean he was a Pokémon? He tried to look down at himself, but for some reason he was held immobile.

"Let me go!" he cried to the Styler. He was vaguely aware that his voice was piercing, high-pitched. "I'm not a Pokémon!"

"But you are," the Styler said. "You're not human. You'll never be human. But you can help us. We're Rangers. We stand for…"

Its odd, lax voice was drowned out by its own droning hum. The light and sound became blinding and deafening, and Stanley just wished it would all go away.

"I don't want to be a Pokémon!" Stanley said to something. He had no idea whether it was the Styler, himself, or no one at all. "Turn me back! Change me back NOW!" His last word rang out, like an anguished battle cry.

The din and chaos was beginning to convert from sensory nonsense to actual pain. It washed over Stanley like a wave hits the beach—sharp and penetrating at first, and then wide and dull. It built up quickly, becoming a crescendo that crossed the usual limits of pain. Then, the agony shot straight through Stanley and back, splitting him into pieces, like a violent lightning strike—

Acewing twisted sideways in horror. He would've screamed, but the intensity of what he had just experienced left him entirely speechless. Opening his eyes slowly, he felt the best relief in the world—he was lying in a hospital bed, and there was no pain at all—just soreness. In fact, the pain in his dream—well, nightmare—seemed a bit fake to him now that he was awake. He dimly hoped the dream wouldn't recur. Maybe the Styler had triggered it somehow.

Thunder rumbled outside. He was in a ward… lying on a padded hospital bed. On either side of him were more beds, with more Pokémon: On his left he saw Spolt lying with a splint on one leg, and Dax with bandages all over his side; on the right, Terne with a large scorch mark on his back that branched down like a thin tree, and Felsin snoozing with a few ice packs strapped on. Acewing could see Tretters's brown feathers nearly obscured from view, rising up and down slowly. There were also a few more beds back there, lost in the darkness of the room. It was like a long hallway with beds along one wall, as if designed to care for large groups of Pokémon simultaneously.

After the startling dream, Acewing had no intention of going back to sleep. He carefully got up and slid off the bed, and the soreness instantly magnified when he landed on the floor, but he didn't care. When he tried to walk away, he tripped at first—the dream had gotten him used to moving like a human. He slowly put a foot forward, sighed, and snuck away.

No one stirred as Acewing left, making faint, languid clicks on the hospital's tiled floor. He made his way down the halls of the hospital—or Pokémon Center, whatever it was. He was determined to at least explore a bit before someone caught him. If there was one advantage to being an animal, it was that he wasn't subject to the expectations and judgment of other humans. He could roam the hospital, and getting caught only meant going back to sleep. If all else failed, he could try to act cute.

But that reminded him—he was a Pokémon. No matter where he went, there would be a human in charge of him. It was great to be a strong, virtuous bird and all—Acewing had always liked birds—but he couldn't talk to people anymore. He could fly as much as he wanted, but he would always have to return to a human's side.

He was liberated, but not free. The paradox annoyed Acewing—there wasn't a right answer. Human or Pokémon? Both were good, but... he would have to pick one.

Acewing found himself at a back door, the way out of the meticulously clean hospital. The rain hissed in the darkness outside. Acewing didn't mind getting wet, so he pushed open the door and stumbled outdoors.

The back area of the hospital was poorly lit, but Acewing simply walked along the smooth gray walls, letting his feathers soak in the rain. He just needed some time to himself, and maybe he would feel alright again about his avian form. He walked until he heard a low whining sound, of something hurt crying into the night. He cautiously approached, until he found the Pokémon by a loading area. To his relief, it was locked up in a cage.

As he drew close, he saw it was a Tyranitar. For some reason, the humans had left it out in the rain instead of in the hospital. That was obviously why it was crying—like a betrayed child.

Its back was turned. Acewing watched it whimper for a minute, until he remembered that he could speak to Pokémon.

"…Hello?" Acewing said.

The Tyranitar stopped suddenly, mid-cry. It turned around in its large cage and tried to stand, but the cage was too small for that. The Tyranitar glared at Acewing, as if silently demanding to be removed from the pouring rain.

"What're you doing here?" Acewing asked. He assumed the Tyranitar was an adult, of course, even though it had been crying like a lost toddler.

"Rrrrrrhh," growled the Tyranitar. It didn't seem in the mood for speech. It pressed up against the cage, close to Acewing's face. Something about the Tyranitar was familiar, but it was hard to place.

"Do I know you?" Acewing inquired.

"Rrrghh!" The Tyranitar trembled, as if struggling to express something. It furiously lashed out with one claw, but the attack bounced off the cage harmlessly with a clang. Struck with pain, the Tyranitar sank down in its sad cage, holding its hand and crying again. Acewing's guess was that it was just down in the dumps at the moment—but something was so familiar…

"Hey," Acewing said, rustling himself to get the Tyranitar's attention. "Are you… are you Logan? Did you get—"

"RRRAAAAOOOORRRR!" the Tyranitar roared, lunging as much as a caged Pokémon could lunge. The cage rocked and nearly tipped over, but it fell back with a damp splash.

Acewing looked into the Tyranitar's eyes. He thought the idea was kind of cliché, but he thought its eyes were like Logan's. Like Logan was trapped somewhere inside the sulky, sandy Pokémon.

"It is you, isn't it?" Acewing said, as the caged Pokémon began to wail. "No other Tyranitar would cry like a… a baby."

He hoped the mild insult would get the Tyranitar to say something. Anything. Even "shut up, Stanley" would've been wonderful. But the Tyranitar just murmured something and kept crying. Acewing found himself getting teary, too, and he was grateful that the rain was swiftly washing it away. He and his brother were there, crying in the rain like they were the stars of a mediocre soap opera. Logan's harsh transformation of Stanley had come full circle, and now both of them were Pokémon in a world owned by humans. How'd Logan transform, anyway? Did he just… do it to himself?

Acewing was so focused on the poor Tyranitar—Logan, whatever happened to him—that he didn't notice a nurse sneaking up on him. She carried a small tranquilizer gun, toting it like an action hero.

"I appreciate that you didn't fly away foolishly," the nurse said loudly, "but you'll get sick if you stay out in the cold like this!" Before Acewing could react, a dart sank into his side, and he immediately began to feel drowsy and strangely pleasant.

He heard the Tyranitar crying out for him, but the tranquilizer was making Acewing more and more incoherent.

"It'll be okay… don't worry," Acewing called as the nurse lugged him back indoors.

Next thing Acewing knew, he was in the hospital lobby, and a familiar face was looking down at him.

"Stanley?" Kristy said, frowning. "I mean, Acewing. You're all soaked."

"I… saw Logan outside… cage," Acewing said dreamily. "Rain, crying."

"I'm going to dry him off and put him back to sleep," the nurse said to Kristy. "Mind helping me?"

"No," Acewing mumbled as they carried him off. "Logan… outside."

"Bye Ingo and Emmet!" Kristy waved as the two subway masters made to leave the Pokémon Center.

"Goodbye, you two," Ingo said, looking back. "I hope to see you on a battle line someday. Hopefully, it's when your Pokémon are healed in full."

"Bye Kristy," Emmet said haltingly. "I'd love to, to go see the musical with you. It sounds very entertaining. I liked talking to you earlier. Battling would be fun, too. Anyway, bye." He waved a gloved hand shyly.

"Maybe when I'm back home, I'll give you a call," Kristy said, waving back. After a moment, they were gone. "Emmet's really nice," Kristy said to no one in particular.

"What did you talk about?" nudged Ray.

"It's not like that!" she said indignantly. "We were just passing time in the same place."

"Okay, here's the deal," the nurse said as she walked up to Ray. "I'll go through them in order. Your Manectric's coloring is a bit off—"

"That's how he's supposed to be," Ray said.

"Yeah, I figured. Anyway, the Manectric will be fine as long as he doesn't stress out that one leg too much. The Houndoom shouldn't do anything other than walk for a few months. The Skarmory's burns are nearly healed, and they shouldn't hurt anymore. The Braviary got a little adventurous last night, and I think it might have a cold, but besides that it's fine. The Armaldo's still just a bit sore, I think. The Fearow shouldn't have any riders for a month or so. The Jolteon's just a little shaken up, and the Nidoqueen will heal by the end of the week. And… I think that's it."

"Thanks," Ray said. "But how come the machine can't help them? The… the automatic magic healing thing?"

"Oh, that," the nurse said. "That's good for battle injuries. Scratches, light burns, all that. Your Pokémon were struck by lightning, and apparently half of them were beat on by a huge Tyranitar. Those kinds of injuries don't get healed instantly."

"Oh…" Ray said, embarrassed. "Okay."

The nurse handed Ray a tray full of Poké Balls. "Here they are. Don't go abusing them any further, or they won't be the only ones in bed with broken bones!"

Outside, Ray and Kristy wondered what to do next.

"I think we should go back and check out the seventh Gym," Ray said.

"Are you kidding?" exclaimed Kristy. "Sending out your hurt Pokémon to battle right now would probably get the authorities all over your… all over you!"

"Well, then what?" Ray said. "If we don't, then we'll only be able to watch the Championship."

"I think you've done enough in Unova, Ray. Soon they're going to get tired of you and deport you to Hoenn—"

"Excuse me!" said a nurse, running out from the Pokémon Center. "Is the Tyranitar out back yours? Someone put it there saying it was wild, and we're not allowed to take in wild Pokémon if they're shown to be hostile—anyway, now it seems pretty tame. Is it yours?"

Ray and Kristy exchanged looks. "Yeah, it's mine," Ray said quickly.

"It's in a cage behind the Center," the nurse said. "I'll leave it to you, then, since you should have its ball. You do have it, right?" She returned to the Pokémon Center, chattering on about kids and their irresponsible ownership of powerful Pokémon.

"Oh, good," Kristy said as they approached the cage, still wet from the night before. "I thought it was still gonna be huge."

The Tyranitar was normal-sized, and it acted different now that it wasn't gigantic. It pressed up against the cage hopefully, reaching a hand out.

"Poor thing," Kristy said, forgetting the damage it had caused a day ago. "They just left it in a cage overnight? In the rain?"

"I guess all the Trainer Pokémon got priority," Ray said. "That, or they forgot about him."

"What're you gonna do with him?"

"Well, I don't know." Ray walked up to the large cage. "Logan? You there?"

The Tyranitar reacted by crying plaintively.

"I think that's a yes," Kristy said. "A really sad one." She suppressed a grin. "Although Logan seems much nicer this way."

"You know how I told you about how Logan's Styler exploded, and it transformed him, and we found his Pokémon around the area?" Ray looked up into the air somewhere, avoiding the Tyranitar's pleading eyes. "I think their Poké Balls got destroyed by the blast. So they're technically wild."

"Are you gonna catch them?" Kristy asked. "Nidoqueen could really balance your team, maybe."

"I don't know… I don't think I'd be comfortable with it. If I took them, then I'd have to take Logan, too, and there's no way I'll ever feel right keeping Logan as my Pokémon."

"Well, what're you gonna do?"

Ray dug through his bag and produced an Ultra Ball. "That Latios gave this to me, remember? I guess I'll use it and ask for one last thing."

"How do you do that, exactly?"

Ray shrugged and pushed the button. The Ultra Ball clicked and expanded a bit, becoming throwable. Nothing happened for a few minutes, but then the air shimmered and the Latios appeared, hovering in the air like some alien device. He had a dark, jagged scar below his left eye, like a fault line in an otherwise flawless landscape.

"Hello," the Latios said. "Sorry I was late."

"What happened?" Ray asked. "With the, the—"

"Scar?" Latios looked away, briefly hiding the mark from view. "Well… it's nothing you should be concerned about. So, what do you want?" He turned and looked at the Tyranitar curiously. "Is it about him?"

"Yeah," Ray said. "Long story short is that he used to be a human, but now he's stuck as a Pokémon and he doesn't seem to be communicating. His brother also got turned into a Pokémon, but he can communicate like a person—you've met him already."

"Yes…" Latios hovered lower to the ground, staring right into the Tyranitar's eyes. The caged Pokémon quieted and became still, as if in a trance.

"Hmm," the Latios continued. "I definitely see something… I see a personality, a soul, whatever you might call it. It's in there, but it's trapped. It's sort of caged away, just like the Tyranitar currently is."

"Can you… free it?"

"Well… I was trying already. I don't want to screw up his mind by messing with it too much. That's what I'm… afraid of. Hm… may I speak to his Pokémon? His brother, too."

Ray plucked the appropriate spheres from his belt.

"You two were the human's Pokémon, right?" Latios asked.

"Yes," Nidoqueen grunted.

"Is he okay?" Jolteon said.

"Fear not, Jolteon," assured Latios. "I've simply got something to offer you two. If you no longer feel at home in this world, I'm willing to take you to mine. We can always use some good-hearted Pokémon."

"Ooh," Jolteon said. "Is your world different?"

"I'll get to that later. If you accept, then I can't guarantee that I can take you back and forth between worlds whenever you want. It drains the—the hell out of me, and it gets harder every time I do it. So make a decision."

Stanley spoke up. "Logan has another Pokémon, a Kadabra. I don't know where it went."

"It must have abandoned you all when it got free," Latios guessed. "In that case, the Kadabra probably won't care what happens to you or this Tyranitar." He shook his head.

"Well, I want to go," Jolteon said. "I don't like this world anymore."

"If you're blaming the humans for all of this, I would advise… well, you're a bit too young for that, maybe," Latios mused. "But in my world, there aren't any humans. Only Pokémon like us. There're also feral Pokémon, however, so it's not all peaceful."

"…I still wanna go," Jolteon said.

"Same," agreed Nidoqueen.

Latios sighed and turned around. "Now, what to do with the Tyranitar, Logan… I want to take him, too, because he's so vulnerable and miserable. But he's not far from a feral Pokémon."

"I'll knock some sense into him if he ever acts up," Nidoqueen offered. "I've done it before, and him being a fellow Pokémon'll just make it easier."

Latios smiled. "I'll hold you to your word, then. I hope I can eventually restore him and bring back his conscious mind, but until then he'll have to stay… a pet of sorts.

"And, Acewing," the Latios said, "I assume you want to stay here?"

"Y-yeah."

Latios nodded.

"I'll be taking the Tyranitar, and Logan's Pokémon," Latios explained to Ray and Kristy. "Stanley wants to stay here with you."

"You're taking them to your world?" Kristy asked. "That's so cool! I wish I could see it."

"I'm not quite sure what would happen to you in my world. Let's not take any chances. And Ray, as much as I like helping you… I'm afraid this may be the last time I appear in your life." Latios looked away. "I'll let you keep that ball, but I have enough on my… my plate already. Does that figure of speech make sense?

"I'm sure you can handle anything that unceremoniously hurtles your way," Latios continued. He stared at the Tyranitar again. "Yet it always seems to come back to cages. Latias in a cage, a Tyranitar in a cage… I'm glad there aren't any cages in my world. No strong ones, anyway…

"I'll be leaving now," the Eon Pokémon concluded after a moment of silence. "Any last requests?"

Kristy shyly stepped forward. "Can I…?"

Latios knew what she wanted, and he suddenly became shy. "Well, I guess… go ahead." He lowered his head, and Kristy petted his neck gently. "It's not every day you meet a Pokémon like me, right?"

"You're softer than I thought… it's wonderful." She jumped back, blushing. "I'm sorry Latios—that was probably really humiliating." Everyone else watched her awkwardly.

The Latios simply looked relieved that Kristy didn't go overboard with the feeling. He quietly responded, "Oh, it's nothing. Just a touch. Those tell me a lot about people." He seemed to silently yearn for something for a brief moment before saying, "And one last comment…" The Latios subtly turned to Acewing for a moment, communicating something without words. Acewing visibly perked up, and his eyes lost their melancholy glaze.

"What did you tell him?" Ray asked.

"Something you'll find out for yourself soon enough," Latios said. "He really needed it, though, from what he's been through."

Nidoqueen and Jolteon went forward and held Latios's hands, and then Latios rested his head on the Tyranitar's cage. The Tyranitar looked up curiously, poking Latios through the cage.

This is it, he said telepathically, since he was facing away. Even though I said this is the last time… I wouldn't be too surprised if we met again. Until then… farewell!

The four Pokémon disappeared in an instant, taking the cage with them. Ray, Kristy, and Stanley were left in the rear of the Pokémon Center, all feeling a strange mixture of solemnity and optimism.

"Let's get out of here before we get billed for a missing cage," Kristy suggested.

"Where do you think Chuck went?" Ray said as they walked off.

"Beats me. He's probably off rescuing people to show how much of a good person he is now."

"I hope I see him again—"

"Not now though, because he still creeps me out."

They only got a couple hundred feet away before Ray's C-Gear rang. It was a video call, so Ray spoke to his wrist like some sci-fi character.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ray!" said Professor Juniper. She seemed to be somewhere grassy, but the resolution on the C-Gear was dismal. "I heard everything worked out fine for you and your friends. I'll admit, I was worried!"

"When the Styler broke, everyone turned back to normal," Ray told the professor. Everyone went back to normal… except Stanley and Logan. Stanley had been transformed by an unstable prototype, and Logan had been changed by the explosion itself, so they wouldn't be turning back anytime soon.

"Yes, I know," Juniper said. "It's all over the news. I assume you had a role in all of this that the news people don't know about."

"Yeah, and I want it to stay that way!" Ray laughed.

"Fair enough! I was calling, by the way, because this whole fiasco is about the Pokémon Rangers, in a way. One of my far-off colleagues is interested in speaking to you. I'll connect him now. Ready? Bye, Ray!"

The screen shifted to an eccentric, gray-haired man with outrageous eyebrows. His moustache stuck out horizontally in a similar fashion. Whether or not that was the norm wherever the man lived, Ray couldn't tell.

"Hello, Ray!" said the man loudly. "My name is Professor Hastings!"

Stanley jumped, running over to Ray and trying to peer at the C-Gear screen.

"Your friend Kristy found quite a bit of Logan's writings in his lab—I'm rather proud of him for running his own lab. He seems like he'd be quite industrious back home! Actually, he was industrious, because he reinvented the Styler!" Professor Hastings chuckled for a second, before shutting himself up. "But that's what I want to talk about. As you probably know, the Styler was an invention of mine! I had to deal with a lot of potential energy sources when I was developing it. I mean, the Styler is basically a harnesser of energy. Traditional electric energy, energy from the Ranger's will, energy from the Pokémon… I worked on those three, but I left the energy of evolution untouched. It was too finicky, too unstable! To keep the Styler from blowing up, I designed it so that it carries that evolution energy in, but quickly passes it out. Logan essentially modified my strongest Styler design so that it kept all that energy… and you can see what kind of wonders and horrors arose from that!

"I… I didn't think it would be Logan. I'll say that out front. Logan's no mad scientist, from what I remember of him. But now it is my understanding that both he and his brother, Stanley, are gone. They're Pokémon roaming around somewhere! How will we ever find them! We never found them when they ran off, and they were humans then! Why, I—"

"Professor Hastings?" Ray said. "Did Kristy tell you? Stanley's our friend. He's been traveling around with us for a while now."

"Ah. Well, I'm sorry you lost such a wonderful friend—"

"No, I mean he's right here!" Ray lowered his wrist, and Stanley immediately stepped in the C-Gear's view.

"Why, you're a bird!" Hastings exclaimed. "Of course. Well, Stanley, after three years, I speak for everyone when I say that we all miss you! What were you thinking, running away like that?"

Stanley squawked out in protest, causing Hastings to relent. "I'm sorry, Stanley! I can't chew out a Pokémon who can't speak in return!" He guffawed for a moment, before continuing: "Well, Stanley, I really want to see you again. Please come back to Almia. I hope you see now that nobody has anything against you. They never had. In fact, the only problem was Logan and Rachel's problem with the... uh, never mind!" He glanced away for a second. "I must be going now! I hope to see you again, Stanley!" The C-Gear went blank.

Acewing cried out hoarsely, longingly. Ray said, "I think I'll go to Almia with Stanley, if I can somehow get my parents to let me. After stopping by Hoenn. Wanna come?"

"My parents are going to kill me as is," Kristy muttered. "Which means I guess I can come with you. It can't get any worse."

"You sure?"

"Well… I should call them, but… they'll be so mad."

Ray didn't want Kristy to leave. He didn't mean for that sentiment to be awkward, but it sure came out that way. "We had fun together, right?" he said. "Maybe if I pretend to be your boyfriend, they won't be so disapproving?" He glanced away before Kristy could see how embarrassed he was.

Kristy's rolled her eyes. "Is that the best you can do?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ray said as they started walking.

"Oh, nothing. Well, if we're gonna ditch this region, let's go to Castelia, as fast as we can."

"Flying straight south over Unova would be a shortcut," Ray noted. "Do you think you're up for it, Stanley? I mean, Acewing?"

Acewing nodded—he was as eager as Terne was to fly around. The weather had cleared up perfectly.

Ray let out Terne, who was always ready to fly. With Ray on Terne, and Kristy a bit awkwardly on Acewing, they flew off towards the horizon—to home, new adventures, and hopefully no more chaotic crises. Ray looked across at Kristy and Acewing—Kristy was flying better, and apologizing for any sort of thing she accidentally did to her mount, Acewing. The Braviary, however, seemed serene, like something that had plagued him forever was finally dispelled once and for all. He was cured of some conscientious poison, a shadow that had followed him ever since he ran away from Almia. Ray didn't know the details of Stanley's past, and maybe Acewing didn't either, but what mattered was that it was finally over with.