Chapter 21

Dawn

I hear my breath move in and out of my body, my entire concentration focusing on my tail. My eyes are closed, but I know what I'm doing. I've practiced it so much, it's become muscle memory. I hear Lilia speaking softly to me, walking me through it. "Yes, that's it. And... one more horizontal slice." I do as she says, really not needing the instruction. My tail swishes horizontally, and I open my eyes, not even bothering to check my surroundings, but looking upwards. Up in the empty training grounds, a gray cloud forms and blossoms. I look to Lilia, staring up at the cloud that I've created. She looks at me and nods. I know what she means. I drop out of the air, getting closer to the ground. Wind blows by me, carrying me downwards.

I slow down and stop just soon enough to watch my creation come to life. Lightning crashes on the higher posts, frying the tips of them to a crisp. The white hot light explodes in my eyes, illuminating the darkest corners of the training ground. Thunder makes the cavern tremble. It roars in my ears, rumbling in every nerve of my body. I grin. Lilia flies up higher towards the cloud and flaps her wings to dispel the raging thunderstorm. Her being a ground type, she's not afraid of lighting. I, being a flying type, had to get to lower airspace.

I fly up to meet Lilia, beaming in my accomplishment. "How'd I do, Lilia?"

"That was great! You took it on like a natural!" She beams at me, proud of her student. Being the superior to the primary evolution Dragon squadron, Lilia encountered many Dragonairs in her lifetime. Making her the ultimate teacher for weather-changing Dragonairs, despite being a Flygon herself.

The last wisps of cloud vanish and I take a breath. "Dawn, I'd say you're good on practice for today. You can take the rest of the day off, if you'd like." I stare at her in wonder. A day off? Am I hearing things? Days off are non-existent now. This is wartime. But, I don't question it. I'll take the day off and run. So, I nod and fly off, exploring the options of what I could do.

I decide to stop by my room first. My head pushes through the curtain, the silk draped across my back. I glance around the room and I notice April is sleeping with some sort of red cloth under her arms. Her chest rises and falls peacefully as I slowly inch out of the room, careful not to make any noise. Once my head is retrieved, the white curtain hangs limply above the ground. As silently as I came, I leave the passageway.

I study the ground, unsure of where to go. I'm unconscious of turning at forks in the caves, seeming to wander Skyborne aimlessly. But, somehow, I know where I'm going. I don't know how I know, but I do. I recognize every crack in the rock earth, every spare pebble scattered beneath my floating body. I know it all. I hunt for the origin of the memory in my mind. Maybe on the way to training...no. The way to the mess hall...nope, not that either.

Then it hits me.

And just as I find a time to go with the place, I look up to see the ragged, torn curtain of a tiny living quarters. The one I've watched every night for years while trying to go to sleep. The curtain that rippled meaning the "safe" signal. Without thinking, I slip under it, scrunching up in the tiny space, too small for me now. But, it was once the perfect size for me. My old living quarters.

The torches that I had lit on that last night have been long extinguished, but I still remember them so vividly. I'd hope that they'd keep the nightmares away. No such luck for the little Dratini. My eyes focus on the old cot that I'd lie on. Woke from every nightmare on that bed. The nightmares. The shadows. The deaths. I thought that the nightmares were all they were. Bad dreams that would be gone by morning. Now, I know that they're real. More than real. They are a living nightmare.

My thoughts race in my head, recalling the dreams I've had in this room. Never pleasant. One thing that always comes back into my head are all those deaths. Hundreds of our pokemon falling, falling. Like a rainshower. A never-ending rainshower death. My first instinct is to remind myself that it was a dream. But it's not. That's what's happening out there. Real lives gone. All because of this war.

I float in silence for a long time, staring at the raggedy, old cot. Then, shockingly, I grin a bit.

There is one good part to my dreams happening in real life.

Unlike my dreams, this nightmare can be awoken from and to make the nightmare never come back.

That's to end this war.