Yveltal's face was showing everything but sympathy, and she could already tell he had a riposte to offer. "If you don't stand up for yourself, Cynthia, you get stepped on. I did what I thought was necessary and I'm not going to apologize for it! To have the only human in this place who gives a damn about us Pokémon stuck in a tower 'till she withers and dies?! I REFUSE." He was slavering by the end of his speech, civility abandoned in favor of an animalistic rage.

Cynthia was silent. Her head sunk, and Yveltal could see her scowl had yet to leave from where he sat. There was a twitch of her mouth and a jostle of her fingers before she shot up and sighed. "…You did all that just to protect me from them…?"

Through his bloodshot eyes and the hair standing on end around his neck, he gave a single, simple nod. "I meant what I said. A single day without having to see someone torture some innocent creature is a blessing to me. I saw through your eyes, Cynthia. How you'd sneak your brothers' prisoners food… How you'd free wild Pokémon from their traps… This world would be DISGUSTING without people like you." He ran a claw along his beak, flicking away what spittle remained there.

In one light, Cynthia was almost… flattered. In another, she felt manipulated… used, almost… She wanted to pipe up and respond to him… she just couldn't. And she'd be lying to herself and to Yveltal if she told him she knew how she felt at that moment. She was absolutely torn to her core, and she could already feel traces of a headache building up.

"I-I need some time to think… Please." She mumbled, suddenly feeling dizzy.

Yveltal bowed his head in response, recognizing her request. But his eyes remained locked on the ground, almost too ashamed to look up at her. She thought she could hear him sighing, but the rustling of the trees around her drowned out anything outside her head.

So she took her time in climbing on to his back, making sure he was ready and willing. When she found a spot she could get a firm grip on, she gave him a light tap on the shoulder and the two were off.

Jonathan couldn't recall the last time he'd gone on a full-fledged hunt before. But he knew for a fact he'd never accompanied Jeremy Caine, of all people. The two took little time in gathering supplies for the trek; their brains had been carved with a map of Redaen from the time they were young. It was going to prove an arduous task, however, because Redaen was still in the throes of a war.

AOEN soldiers fighting Crusade rebels and The Brotherhood plying its own trade in between… It was more than fair to say his country was a powder keg, but Jonathan didn't like reiterating the obvious. He'd follow Caine's lead like he'd planned to, and he'd let The Huntsman take all the pleasure from marching around in this dangerous battlefield.

The two took a backwoods path, one that'd avoid what was currently No Man's Land by a longshot. The only downside would be the fact that they'd be carving it out entirely by themselves. Caine made sure to have his revenge for Jonathan's earlier comment by handing him a machete and having him do the brunt of the work. But Jonathan didn't mind, he was built like a tank, after all.

The two man party traced along the coast, through forests of dead wood and bramble as they made their way to the nothing Caine had marked on his map. Though worst of it was nearly done, Jonathan was well aware that it'd all be resting on the shoulders of his own intuition. He had a dreadful, sinking feeling of stumbling on nothing at all when he would arrive at the marker. So for his sake, his pride, he charged ahead all the more viciously.

But not even he could fight forever, and eventually his own mortal body had gotten the best of him, forcing him to rest against his will. He stumbled to one knee, sweat steadily pouring from his forehead as his machete planted itself in the ground.

"Finished, John?" Caine wheezed, hacking a particularly thick vine. "Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?" Through his fatigue he managed a hoarse laugh.

"Nrrgh… Quit your games, Caine… Don't make me… wring that scrawny neck of yours…" He huffed, stroking his crimson cheeks. A gruesome cough escaped from his lungs and he slid down a nearby tree, exhausted.

"Hnf!" The Huntsman threw the last of his energy into slicing a sapling in two. He grabbed hold of the branch he removed and propped his weary body against it, hobbling over to Jonathan's tuckered frame. "We can make camp here for now, brother… I can tell you're ready to collapse just by looking at you." There was a scraping sound as he unsheathed one of his many knives.

Jonathan gave a long, frustrated groan, dropping into a puddle of his own sweat. "Dammit…! This wasn't supposed to happen! We… would've made it by nightfall…" He ran his hands down his neck, easily gliding over the sheen surface of his skin.

Caine raised an eyebrow and slowly seated himself next to the man. "Oh…? What's with the urgency, Jonathan?" One of his hands unconsciously crawled from his side, searching for a piece of wood to whittle.

"Aw… Shit… Forgot to tell you…" Jonathan shook his head, sending droplets of sweat across the forest floor. "…Tell me, Huntsman… Have you heard of Yveltal…?"

Caine stopped what he was doing immediately. "…You could say I have." He murmured, fumbling for a lighter in his pocket.

"Well… I'll save you the details then, brother…" Jonathan croaked, finding his voice failing him. "…He's coming for us. For The Brotherhood…"

Again, his comrade froze. This time, however, the volume of his voice had decreased dramatically, and the way he leaned towards Jonathan showed anything but indifference. "…How can you be so certain?"

The man beside him tossed his arms back, planting his palms on the rugged terrain beneath him. He let out a long, drained sigh and tilted his head up to the blazing sun. "My brother told me all about him. And I've seen his work firsthand, Caine… I know what he's coming for… What he wants…" He closed his eyes, allowing a smirk to overtake his face. "…He expects us to lay on our bellies and accept death." A small chuckle built up within his throat. "…That's not what he'll find."

"Is that so…" Caine rasped, finding Jonathan's laughter infectious.

Cynthia clambered up to her room, finding her ride's back quite the flat surface. Extra careful not to open the window too fast, she slung one leg over the wall and then another. The woman landed with a hardy 'thud', sighing as she felt the damp air of her room envelope her once more.

And the first thing she got to doing was throwing her body into her bed, burying her face within a mound of sheets. She was content to just drop unconscious then and there, but there was a nagging feeling she couldn't help but ignore. Urgh, she wished her tired body could just give her a si-

"Cynthia," Yveltal barked, peeling her eyelids open. She turned to see him still outside, finding herself impressed at the volume of his flapping. The avian pulled his head to the side, throwing her a weary glance with the windows he called eyes. "…Are you sure you want to stay here? Freedom is only a short ride away, Cynthia."

If it weren't for the fatigue clouding her mind, she'd almost say Yveltal sounded clingier than she had first remembered. But she found the strength to shake her head, her instincts as Matthew's sister kicking in. "If they found out that I left… I don't even want to begin to think about what they'd do to all those Pokémon they're keeping prisoner…" She raised her lip in disgust, her fingers twitching angrily at her side. "I wouldn't even put Matthew past it."

Yveltal seemed disheartened by her response, slowing the pace of his wings and casting a long, sympathetic frown at the woman. "I understand."

She nodded, eager to wrap herself in blankets and finally get some shut eye. But after a good minute or so, still found herself with company. Cynthia rolled her head back, meeting his silent gaze with a look of confusion. "…Was there something else?"

"…No…" He turned away, sending a wall of wind to slap her in the face. "…Promise me-" He almost finished his sentence, but for whatever reason stopped and left it there.

Cynthia lay frozen, her eyes still fixated on the vast forest outside her window, wondering what words would've left his mind if he had continued. She supposed it was none of her concern; Yveltal had fun playing his mind games, and sooner or later he'd let her in on whatever trivial secret he was keeping. So she rolled her eyes shut, finding a good night's rest a far simpler task than she had expected.

Creak! The long, grating squeal of her iron-barred window roused her from her slumber, forcing her to turn her head in the direction of the noise. She gave a light groan, feeling the cold sweat on her pillow soak her hair with an unpleasant moisture. Through what little rays of light were shining through, she saw a figure leaning out the window, his arms spread wide over the windowsill.

"Nrrughh…" An unconscious moan made its way up her throat as she stretched, cracking the bones in her shoulders. She pulled herself into a sitting position, waiting for her eyes to adjust to her dim surroundings.

Sure enough she recognized her brother, seeing his long, black coat billowing in the wind like a shadow. He hardly paid her any mind as he feasted his eyes on the scenic pines below the window, his brain seemingly in another world. But she knew he was watching; men like Matthew had to have eyes in the backs of their heads if they wanted to live longer than a day.

"Can I see you downstairs?" He rasped, snapping her out of her thoughts. She heard him slide his gloves along the coarse stone wall, shifting his weight to one hip. Matthew said nothing more as he turned on his heel and left, closing the door gently behind him.