Chapter 36

Destination

"My father said there's a small vent halfway up the southeastern side. That's where the Pilgrimage ends."

Their progress up the steep slope of Iyrodenin was not so much a hike as it was a scramble. Both of them were on all fours for the sake of balance. On two feet, the dusty gray rocks left over from the lava flows of years gone by would have been easily dislodged to trip them up. Wartortle could smell the distinctive odor of the volcanic rocks with his nose so close to them. They smelled like a natural, cruder asphalt.

Avoiding the lava flows was a simple matter so close to the base. The molten rock moved at the pace of a Slowpoke, and the flows were few and far between. When their ascent could not be rerouted around them, the pair ran and jumped over the flows in their way to continue upward. Wartortle was astonished at the amount of radiant heat the lava produced. In approaching a flow for a jump, he'd begin to feel the heat more than five feet away. Soaring over a lava flow was nothing short of jumping through a wall of fire. The heat rising above every flow was sizzling hot. He needed to stop upon landing and gulp in the cooler air for a moment while Quil looked on with a contrite expression.

The vent, once they found it, was neither obvious nor hidden. Had they not been looking for a small opening into the volcano, Wartortle guessed it would have been a coin toss whether or not they found it. The aura of heat the hole exuded could be felt from twenty feet away, which helped. So did the trickle of smoke that crept along the ceiling of the opening, quickly becoming evanescent once it reached the open air. Even so, the unassuming opening was the same color as the rest of the slope. No signs posted outside the entrance. No Typhlosion standing guard, which was actually not too surprising considering a Typhlosion might not be able to even fit into the passage.

Wartortle bent his head down to peer inside. The passage was a small tunnel leading into perfect darkness. The evidence that this was a vent of a volcano was overwhelming however, as the eye-watering heat pouring from the opening forced Wartortle's eyes to squint and his lips to press firmly shut. He could only tolerate standing by the opening for seconds at a time. As he withdrew, he blinked his eyes rapidly and willed more water to his eyes. To his surprise, his body responded with a sensation not unlike water being pulled from his Pool into his throat for a Water Gun or Bubble attack. The cool water soothed the heat away.

I'd make a fantastic actor now, since I can cry on command, thought Wartortle with amusement.

"This is it," Quil murmured. "The opening matches the description in my instructions. I don't know what happens inside, but once I come out, my Pilgrimage is over."

Wartortle rubbed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hands. "I think I'll have to wait outside. Sorry I can't come with you but it's too hot for me."

"It is?" Quil stuck his snout into the opening, like a taste test for temperature. "Oh, it is hot, isn't it? Probably even hotter the deeper you go."

Quil drew a deep breath as he stood tall in front of the outpouring of blistering heat. "Please don't feel bad Wartortle. I should go alone. My Pilgrimage was always supposed to end that way."

"Er, fight well," said Wartortle, after recalling the Pokémon equivalent of 'good luck'. The Quilava shot him a grateful smile, then crawled into the passage. Wartortle watched the light of his fires recede before slumping against the slope some ways away. Far enough that he could breathe and feel his lungs actually getting air. His thoughts followed Quil toward the volcano's core.

Some Fire-type Pokémon must be waiting at the end of the vent. The final challenge. The guardian of the Pilgrimage, charged with testing the battling experience of every Cyndaquil and Quilava that arrives. I suppose it would have to be a Typhlosion, tradition and all. Something suitably grand for the end of a long journey.

I hope it doesn't take too long. For all I know, that vent could lead to a labyrinth of tunnels. A second Cavetown, this one with temperatures like an oven and the glow of magma instead of fungi. Or there may be a whole gauntlet of obstacles for him to overcome. I may be out here for hours while Quil gets to where he needs to be.

Not ten minutes later, the dark walls of the passage were lightened by an approaching flame. Quil promptly emerged, breathing somewhat heavily. His eyes were vacant. The Quilava was lost in thought. When Wartortle approached, it took Quil a while to notice. He blinked, focusing on Wartortle's face for but a moment, but his brow wrinkled and he was gone again. Wartortle let him have his peace for a full minute before prompting him.

"How did it go?"

Quil shook his head, as in disbelief. "There's a message. That's it. Nothing else."

Wartortle waited for more, but Quil was out of it. He seemed fairly upset. Wartortle gently asked for clarification after Quil had had a moment.

"The passage was around a hundred paces long, crawling on four feet. The end of it was really, really hot. I was starting to feel out of breath. All of the walls were plain rock. Nothing else. I checked twice. The only thing in the entire tunnel was a message engraved deep in the smooth stone where the tunnel ended. The inscription looked really old, like it should be."

"What did it say?" Wartortle asked almost before Quil had finished speaking.

He shook his head, somewhat violently this time. "I don't get it. I'm not great at reading U-script, but it was only two little words. I can't have gotten it wrong. But they don't make sense. I'm definitely in the right place though; we followed the directions, and-"

"What did it say?" Wartortle repeated.

Quil looked up, as if noticing Wartortle standing beside him. "Return Home."

"That's it? 'Return Home'?"

Quil slowly shook his head yet again. "Ten Unown. Two words. No writing anywhere else. No glowing stones embedded in the rock or any other possible evolution triggers. No sounds other than the volcano grumbling. Just 'Return Home'."

Wartortle wanted to be shocked. To share in Quil's bewilderment. Then they could work through it together to find a reasonable answer. Yet he'd been expecting the volcano to hold no special power. He'd expected it to be an ordinary volcano, as far as a volcano could be ordinary. The brevity of the message was a tad brutal he thought, but it was better to be blunt and clear than elaborate and potentially confusing.

"Quil. Listen. I don't think this volcano causes Cyndaquil to evolve."

Quil laughed once. "That's the whole point of the Pilgrimage! We all have to come here, and we always come back as Quilava. Every time!"

He kept his voice calm as he replied, "I don't think the Pilgrimage is about the volcano. That's why the message says to return home as soon as you've arrived. The volcano is irrelevant. It's about the journey. It was always about the journey."

Quil stood on his hind legs as his eyes stared with urgency at Wartortle's face. Wartortle could see the gears turning behind them as he continued. "I have no doubt you would have worked all of this out on your way home; the facts add up. The reason all Cyndaquil always return home as Quilava is because they evolve on the way here. Or on the way back, I suppose. The family of each Cyndaquil must only send them out when they're judged to be close to evolving. That part would be simple, as the Quilava and Typhlosion of the family would know from first-hand experience what to look for. Then the Cyndaquil on the Pilgrimage evolves along the way from all the hardships and battling."

His friend was stock-still at first. Then he sunk to the ground and curled up, as if going to sleep. His voice was especially quiet. "No. This is the Pilgrimage. A sacred journey for all Cyndaquil. It's not a lie. We're in the wrong place. I must have forgotten an important step."

"To be precise," Wartortle said, "you weren't lied to when they told you the Pilgrimage would result in your evolution. They weren't wrong either. You are a Quilava. The Pilgrimage did evolve you, even if it happened in Blindhollow."

Wartortle turned his attentions up the slope to give Quil time to digest. The lava flows became more frequent closer to the top of the volcano. Thicker, too. If they took the final portion of the ascent cautiously and methodically, they could still arrive in the afternoon. Assuming Quil didn't need hours to relax and absorb the truth behind the Pilgrimage's facade of magic. He did his best to plan a route around the treacherous lava from what little he could see up ahead while Quil remained curled on the ground.

"You sped up the coming of my evolution." There was no accusation in Quil's voice, only statement of fact. "Without you, I wouldn't have evolved on my Pilgrimage. Iyrodenin must have some power. It must do something. Otherwise the Pilgrimage would not have succeeded for me. Right?"

"Hm, good point. I didn't think of that. Although, we have to remember that there is still the entire return journey. If you were traveling without me, you could have still evolved in, say, Root Forest on the way back." He held up a claw. "Also, if you were alone, your battles every step of the way would have been more challenging."

"The journey would have taken me much longer too," Quil added. "Giving me time to evolve." His tone was shifting from morose to resigned. Wartortle judged he was ready for one more blow.

"Last thing: Remember that day we fought the Espeon, and you wondered why your father told you about a 'shortcut' through Blind Prairie that was teeming with strong Pokémon? Ones that not even both of us had a chance of defeating? I thought about that a few times, and now I'm finally sure of the reason. Your father wanted you to fail. He wanted you to face an assortment of challenges, thereby toughening up."

Quil rebelled at the concept. "No, we can't be sent to purposely fail. I can't see my father doing that. He's stern, and really strong, but he...I thought he loved Quindo and me."

"Tough love. He still wanted what was best for you, didn't he? My own mom is the same way." His face widened with a grim smile. "I'm willing to guess that the route he sent you on was one of the most difficult and varied ways to get to Iyrodenin from Steady Steppe. For example, we must have crossed the Karp at one of its thickest points, so far downstream. That forced you to be in close contact with water for a long time. Unfortunately. And the route seems to have sent you through every major settlement between your home and this volcano. He likely wanted you to meet all sorts of Pokémon, see how they live."

"I know I can't complain!" he added with his hands up. "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't bumped into me on the route you took. Plus, it all worked out in the end. You're a Quilava now. Your Pilgrimage was a success. I don't see any reason to think otherwise. Do you?"

A few beats of silence. "I need a while to think about this. Sorry."

Wartortle nodded and went to kill some time by the nearest lava flow. Volcanology had never been his field, nor a subject of his interest. Nevertheless, observing the lava now sparked his curiosity. Was it a liquid, or a solid? The surface was ridged like a ripple through glue, but the flow was too sluggish to be anything close to a true liquid. He squirted a mouthful of water in an arc to splash against the scorching lava as an experiment, and as expected, the water instantly became steam with an angry sizzle. The lava was not visibly affected. In truth, he was dealing with a terrifying substance. It exuded sweltering heat, he couldn't touch it, and it was unable to be slowed or stopped.

Another point of interest was the inconsistent pattern of the flows as they oozed down the slope of the volcano. Some of the flows were small enough to solidify by the time they reached the base. These had a gray surface, and moved only a foot every few seconds. Soon, Wartortle knew, they would be indistinguishable from the cooled rock he walked upon. Other flows were like living streams of light and heat, their motion relatively swift. Those would not cool and solidify for the foreseeable future. In what seemed like miniature eruptions, new flows of lava would come pouring down the slope, each at a pace that matched its size. Like a maze with shifting walls, the environment was constantly in flux.

Quil uncurled himself at last and joined Wartortle in his examination of the lava. "I'm ready to keep going. Thanks for waiting."

Wartortle needed to be sure that friend's head was in the game. The rest of the day would be no cakewalk. "Are you sure? We can afford to tackle the rest of this volcano tomorrow; it's not crucial for us to look for Moltres up there today."

"I'm sure," said Quil. He sounded it, too. "I'm a Quilava. I've completed the Pilgrimage. I can forget about it now."

"What about your father, and what he put you-"

"I don't need to worry about that right now, do I?" Quil interrupted.

Wartortle stared at him. Anger, from Quil? Rare. "Yes, sure."

"Sorry," said Quil as he sank to his belly. "I think I'm going to be mad at my father when I see him again. I can't think about that now though. Until these boosts are fixed, I'm going to forget about my own journey. It's not important. I want to focus on solving the problem that's troubling everyone. Does that sound fine?"

"Definitely," he said with a nod. "I've used the same strategy when something was bothering me that I couldn't change. Even so, let me know if you want to talk about it. You know I want to help."

Quil's face remained tensed for only a moment before he conceded a smile. "Okay. Now, to the top!"

The pair set off toward the peak along the best route that Wartortle could conceive. Twice more, it was necessary to leap over a small portion of lava. The slow ascent was interrupted by an encounter with a Magby, a Pokémon that might one day become a Magmar. It sprayed embers which might have been impressive coming from Quil many days ago. Now they appeared weak in Wartortle's eyes. His water brought the Magby down quickly, but not before it exhaled purple-tinged smog toward Quil's face. The fumes were the color of shriveled raisins, like the fumes that had been puffing out the top of the volcano all day. Quil was thankfully quick enough to evade the smog.

The only other incident happened mere minutes from the lip of Iyrodenin's peak, where lava flows were strewn about like a giant, burning cobweb centered on the peak. The volume of the flows was bolstered as a surge of fresh lava overflowed from the lip. The lava was already flowing thickly so close to the peak. Now the patches of bare rock shrank as the edges were consumed by the new lava. Wartortle turned downhill to back off and wait for the surge to subside, but an adjacent flow had already formed an off-shoot from the surge. It rolled across the rock they'd used for their ascent at the pace of a brisk walk. He scrambled downhill, preparing to leap over the new flow before it thickened to become impassable, but thought better of the impulsive action. Better to turn a slow three-sixty and identify the best option. Regret stabbed into him when he saw lava surrounding him and Quil. None of it was any less thin than the new off-shoot. The best option was now closed to them. The regret became fear.

"Wartortle, we're surrounded by it now," Quil said in a controlled tone.

"I can see that," he replied in the same fashion. His eyes examined every bit of the lava as his feet kept him turning in a circle. The surge had ended. As the volume of lava flowing past was reduced, its speed slowed. And with that deceleration, the flows flattened and spread laterally along the hardened rock. Toward the pair from all sides.

Quil pointed left to the most colorful and thus hottest of the flows. "I think that one is the most narrow, but it's still too wide to jump. I know I couldn't make it. You?"

"No." What were they to do? The lava was flattening and spreading very slowly, but the flow was unstoppable. Sooner or later, the rock they occupied would be the riverbed of a lava stream. The only option to escape seemed to be leaping over the narrowest flow.

"Anything useful for this situation in the bag?" Quil asked. The backpack was strapped on his back now, well above the flames of his rear. Wartortle thought it was a good decision both because he had digits dexterous enough to access the items in the pouches without Quil needing to take it off, and because withdrawing into his shell if he were wearing the bag caused it to be at great risk of taking a direct blow.

"No," said Wartortle again after mentally reviewing the bag's contents. "Nothing to help us sprout wings or jump farther."

Stay calm, he thought as the heat of the encroaching lava began wafting into the air he breathed. I have to stay calm. Don't think about what you want your last words to be. Don't think about how you're failing everyone. No, stop that! Stay calm. What are my options?

"Wartortle," Quil said. His voice was no longer controlled. Their island of rock had a diameter of less than fifteen feet at the widest. If only there was another island of rock in the flows that they could use to make it across! "We have to jump. Let's hope a Murkrow doesn't fly by!"

What? He dismissed the distracting thought as a useful one formulated in his brain.

"I think...yes, I have an idea. We need a stepping stone. I might be able to make one. Where's the narrowest point?"

He readied his Water Gun and fired it in a high arc to land where Quil pointed a forepaw. The water boiled instantaneously when it struck the bright orange lava. Wartortle continued the stream for as long as he could. When his technique grew unfocused after a few seconds, he closed his mouth and relaxed for a moment. Then he fired another Water Gun. Then another. Always, he kept the water landing on the same tiny portion of lava. He even compensated for the flow's movement by following it downhill with his water.

By the fourth, the spot he'd been striking had darkened to a crisp gray. Surrounding it was the same bright orange. Determining if the spot was solid enough to use as a stepping stone would be impossible from range. He'd have to hope the outer layer of the lava in that one spot was legitimate solid rock by actually pressing on it.

"You're slower and heavier so you should go first," Quil said. "That way I can launch you."

"Right, the Springboard Boost that we practiced against those two Gligar in the mountains. You push full strength, I'll compensate." Quil acknowledged while Wartortle backpedaled to the other end of the rocky island, stepping as close to the lava flow as he dared. Quil dropped to all fours at the lava close to the stepping stone.

"Ready," they both said simultaneously. Neither laughed.

Wartortle used Water Gun one last time. The stream was slightly off mark due to the distance, but no time remained to cool the lava further. Quil would need as much room as possible in the dwindling space for a running start when he went next.

With a frown of concentration, Wartortle envisioned himself completing the maneuver successfully. Then he dashed at Quil and placed his last step against his friend's back. Quil arched his back sharply upwards, thrusting against Wartortle's foot forcefully. The extra boost launched Wartortle skyward.

The moment he passed into the burning air above the lava, his eyes squeezed shut involuntarily. His heart fluttered with panic. He'd failed to account for the intense heat. How could he land properly if his entire face was sizzling? The fur covering his ears felt like it was being singed to ash. Someone was yelling helplessly. He forced water across his eyes, keeping them barely protected enough for him to squint at the approaching lava. Fortunately, both of them had used the correct amount of force to send him on the right trajectory.

Wartortle landed hard on the gray spot. While it proved to be solid, he heard it crunch with his impact. Orange fluid fountained out of the cracks around his feet. He yelped as sudden heat burned his soles. Jumping immediately would only plunge him into the lava all around, so he steeled himself to the burning heat as he bent his knees and gathered his full balance. After a big standing long jump, he was safe on the far side of the lava flow.

Right away, he turned, dropped to all fours, and fired a stream of water to land on the same spot he'd jumped from. He cut it off when he saw Quil come soaring into the air toward the spot. The foreboding crunch split the air once again. Then Quil was beside him after a second jump.

"Yes!" shouted Wartortle as Quil let out a small roar. Wartortle raised his palm for Quil to slap.

"High five," he explained at Quil's puzzlement. "You slap your palm against mine, like a Fighting-type move. It means...something like 'We did very well'."

Quil chuckled as he thrust his paw pads into Wartortle's. The resounding slap was missing, but the attitude was there.

"I like this better," Quil said while shifting backward on his hind legs for a spring at Wartortle. They exchanged light tackles, mid-air.

Wartortle grinned. "I admit, I like that one better too. If we were both humans though, we'd rebound with fractured skulls and dislocated shoulders. That's why they do high fives. Why we do high fives. Whatever."

Quil rose to his hind legs, then pointed a forepaw uphill. "Looks like it's clear of lava that way."

Wartortle nodded. "Almost there. I hope this dangerous climb was worth it. Oh, we should put on those scarves now."

Quil held still while Wartortle rummaged in the pouches of the backpack until he felt his claws snag cloth. He tied the orange Special Band around the top of his shell, and the yellow-and-violet Detect Band around Quil's neck above the pack. The Quilava wobbled on his feet as Wartortle finished the knot.

"Urgh. This is really strange."

"Motion stands out, correct?" He well recalled the involuntary laser focus of his first rodeo with the Detect Band. "I'm sure the effect will be helpful for any trouble we end up brewing on the peak."

Quil gave half-hearted agreement. After a minute, he appeared steady once more. The two continued their ascent over the hardened lava of ages past until, at last, they crested the edge of the black peak and beheld the summit of Iyrodenin.

The volcanic crater was very shallow, less deep even than Blindhollow's crater. The summit was more plateau than a lava-filled pit. The center of the crater did indeed house a glowing pit of fresh lava from the main vent of the volcano. However, the beginning of the lava pool was a good forty feet away from the crater's edge where the pair stood. The rest of the summit was uneven with rocky ridges and rivulets of lava pouring toward the lip of the crater to drain down to the base. These were concentrated on the western side of the summit, as they'd observed the previous day.

Though a sea breeze blew in over the crater's northern edge, Wartortle could not say he felt the coolness at all. The warmth emanating from the lava pit pervaded the summit. Viscous red bubbles burst at the surface and belched smoke, giving birth to the plume above Iyrodenin. The sky's color appeared grayer, washed out from the thin haze of smoke shrouding the summit. Wartortle sniffed. The scent was...primeval. It belonged in the crushed and airless bowels of the earth.

"You're going to roll your eyes," said Quil as his own nostril slits flared, "but I love it up here."

Wartortle was preoccupied with learning the lay of the land. He thought he could hear something over the bloop bloop of the bubbles bursting. His ears automatically rotated as far forward as they could. Yes, there was a voice somewhere on the far side of the lava pit. Its owner was obscured by smoke and the irregular ground, but Wartortle had hope that it belonged to the one he sought.

"Quil, there's someone on the other side. Want to sneak around the edge of the crater?"

"Like the first time we arrived in Blindhollow? Alright." He fell to all fours, and backed down over the lip out of sight. His two sets of fires died away, leaving sizzling red spots.

Slowly, they circled along the crater rim. At times leaping over lava was necessary, and even dipping further down the slope to find an alternate route around a particularly lively flow. Three minutes' time found them almost to the opposite side of the volcano.

"Can you feel that?" asked Quil. "The air. It's different the further we go. Tighter."

Wartortle paused and examined the sensation of the air. "Yes. Like a pressure."

They exchanged worried looks. Wartortle did not know what the pressure might mean, and neither it seemed did Quil. The pair finished skirting the crater and crept up over the lip. The pressure doubled, becoming easily noticeable, as Wartortle's eyes beheld the western portion of the volcanic crater. A moment later, Quil slowly let out the breath he'd been holding.

Moltres was not as large as Wartortle expected. If one looked past the flames, all that remained was a delicate yellow frame standing only six or seven feet tall. Its talons were skinny, its beak unimpressive despite its tapered length. The color of its plumage was as pale as a tropical beach. That was if one ignored the flames.

But Moltres' body was aflame in a way that made Quil's fires look like two tiny matchsticks. Instead of flight feathers, the wings folded on its back swept out into fire. Its tail was a billowing flame, and its head crest a blazing torch. Each of the flames pouring off its body danced and sputtered with wild energy, so unlike Quil's controlled fire spikes. Other Fire-types wielded fire at worst and mimicked it at best. Moltres embodied fire. It was fire.

Moltres' beak moved as it spoke to another Pokémon floating at eye level a very respectful distance away from Moltres. This Pokémon, next to the glorious splendor of Moltres, was as pleasant to look at as a Garbodor. As Wartortle studied it through the wispy haze, he recognized it as the one he'd met outside of one of Cavetown's Habitation Caverns. He had asked about the location of Moltres! Now here he was, 'V'-shaped orange crest and all. What was he doing up here talking to Moltres?

"Moltres and Victini. This is a dream." Quil's legs wobbled, and he slumped onto his belly with his eyes on the summit's Pokémon.

Victini? That was the name of a Legendary supposedly endemic to Wartortle's home region of Unova. He knew very little about it other than its status as a good luck charm; Victini was said to grant victory. Wartortle had long ago waved away that superstitious nonsense, thus dismissing the Legendary Pokémon as one that legitimately only existed in legends.

Obviously he'd been wrong. If Quil was correct, the Pokémon that had privately spoken to him in that corridor was Legendary. He replayed what he could remember of the conversation in his mind. Some of what Victini had said and how the Legendary had acted now made much more sense, like his surprise at Wartortle's mellow reaction to his presence.

Moltres had been talking during Wartortle's thoughts. Its voice, for all its effortless volume, was androgynous. If Wartortle was forced to guess, he'd say it was female. The pace of her words always was measured, unhurried.

"Yes. If you are the change that has visited my counterparts, I have been expecting you. If you are responsible for lifting Electric and Ice, I have awaited your arrival with rare hunger."

In contrast, the saccharine voice that squeaked out of Victini's tiny mouth was insignificant. Even Victini's fangs were ornamentation compared to Wartortle's own. Yet Moltres and Victini were both Legendary?

"Yup yup, that was me, Victini! I did it all." He laughed like a child watching his victim fall prey to a silly prank. "I've been super excited for this day too. For the better part of a month I've been trying to pin down your location. I wasted days on the western reaches of this stup-...of this stupendous island. Now here you are at the northern tip!"

The pregnant pause that preceded Moltres' responses had Wartortle holding his breath without meaning to. His belly tensed as he waited for the vacant space in the conversation to be filled by Moltres' words. The Pokémon had a magnetic presence.

"No, Articuno and Zapdos would not have told you where I roost, would they. I do not fault them for prolonging this exceptional inequality as long as they are able. These happenings are unusual entertainment in the immeasurable lives we live, are they not Victini?"

Victini's smile widened. "Great fun, yes!"

"Now you are here. Clarify for me: why?"

"To boost you of course!" Victini said, cartwheeling through the air even while keeping his distance from Moltres. "That's what ordinary Pokémon are calling it."

Moltres' posture was immobile as a statue even while her flames licked at the air in constant motion. "Seeing the children of my element prosper is a magnificent gift. I must know, how do you accomplish this 'boost'?"

Victini squeaked a chuckle. "You're in for a treat, Moltres. Fire-type moves only get boosted because you get boosted. I'm going to give my power to you. You'll love it, I know it!"

Moltres flicked her head aside in disdain, her first movement. "Do you think me unaware of the connection between me and my element? I meant that witnessing my children succeed pleases me more than any improvement in myself. I wield all the strength I could need. Tell me the workings of your boost."

"Listen sister," Victini said with a raised finger. "I happen to be just as legendary as you are. I can see you're used to dealing with trivial visitors, so I'll be patient with you this once. If you take that tone with me again though I'll be gone before you can say 'Sorry Victini!', 'kay?"

Moltres legs bent and her wings unfurled partway before she froze and gradually relaxed. As her wings folded again, Wartortle could see her chest visibly deflate. He reminded himself, again, to breathe. The flames still burned brighter than they had. Moltres was likely still tense.

"I apologize. It is as you say."

"Better." Victini smirked. "I can boost any Pokémon I wish with a touch. If I bopped you right now with my power, Fire-types via your connection would be boosted like Electric and Ice. For a few seconds. My power is like one of Zapdos' lightning bolts: extreme, uncontainable power for an instant, then nothing. Obviously I can't spend my life hovering behind you Legendary Birds, supplying that power, so I put my beautiful mind to work and invented these."

He reached to his hip and untied the knot on a string that Wartortle could have sworn had not been present a moment before. After unwrapping the string from around his waist, Victini presented what appeared to be a tiny orange stone on a long cord.

"A rock." Moltres was not impressed.

"Yup!" Victini agreed. "A boring old rock. I had some Rock-type carve them to look like my cute little face, but they're still rocks. That is, until I do this."

He held the rock in both hands and closed his blue eyes. A faint light began to shine outward from his hands. While the rays were pure white light, the air around his hands shimmered with an orange hue. Wartotle imagined he could hear the passing light rays as an ethereal hum. The effect faded. The puny rock looked no different than when Victini had first revealed it but Wartortle wagered the light had been no show. He had felt the energy in the air.

"Quil," he hissed. "Those powered-up rocks are the source of the boosts. Every one of the Legendary Birds has one of those rocks, I know it!"

"You wear it like a talisman," Victini was explaining. "My power will prevent it from shattering and the cord from snapping. While you wear it, all of that power inside will flow into you. I've stored enough that it will last until I recharge it in, oh, a month or two. How's that for a gift?"

"We can't let Moltres touch it," Quil whispered back. "If she does, Flames will be boosted." His eyes widened. "Wait. That'll help us. We should let her take it!"

Should they intervene, or let it happen? Wartortle's thoughts began to race. He barely heard Moltres' next words.

"Such a gift from a stranger begs reciprocation. Indeed, this is only our first meeting. What can I do in return?"

Victini waved a hand, dismissing her words. "Don't worry about it, really! This is my first time on this island, so I want to be friends with the important Pokémon that live here, like you! Maybe one day soon I'll have a favor I can ask." His smile deepened. "For now, trust me when I say I'm super duper overjoyed to see the fun happening among all the ordinary Pokémon."

Quil nudged him. "You have to decide! Finding Moltres was your battle."

If Moltres received the talisman, as a Legendary already, she would presumably become absolutely unstoppable in battle. If she weren't already. Taking the talisman from her possession afterward by force would likely be impossible.

Yet allowing her to receive the talisman would boost Fire-types. With the element of surprise, Quil's boosted Ember might be enough to best Moltres after she'd received the talisman. That was the only advantage they were likely to get. Without boosting Quil, the battle lines would be drawn with two ordinary Pokémon on one side and the Legendary Moltres on the other. They couldn't afford to stop her from taking the talisman. The boost was their best shot.

Moltres inclined her head to Victini before expertly grasping the cord in the tip of her beak. Wartortle watched as she straightened her neck, swinging her beak slowly upward.

Didn't I come here to stop the boosts? I was transformed into a Pokémon in order to stop what I'm witnessing now. I'm going to watch it happen?

She pointed her beak vertically, up at the smoke plume rising to the skies. The stone dangled on the cord. She was poised to flick the loop over her beak, allowing it to slide over her head and down into place at the base of her neck. Wartortle had done his best to rapidly analyze their courses of action. Logically, allowing Moltres to don the talisman and share in its power was the optimal choice.

But his chest tightened. His skin itched. A force from within him urged him to take action. His gut.

Wartortle obeyed.

"Stop!" he cried as loudly as he could, and raced over the crater's edge toward the two Legendaries. The pounding of Quil's footsteps followed right behind him.

Moltres' beak jerked at the sudden noise. The talisman was tossed high into the air before clattering against the black rock far behind her fiery tail. Both Legendaries watched as Wartortle and Quil closed the distance. Their approach was slow as they to skirted or jumped over the rivulets of lava oozing from the central pit to the crater's edge, but neither Moltres nor Victini made any moves other than with their eyes.

"This is insane," Quil moaned.

Moltres' body heat rivaled even the fresh lava of the summit as Wartortle came to a stop. Even at distance, the gorgeous flames roiling off her form seemed to fill Wartortle's vision. Next to Quil, he stood before Moltres of the Legendary Birds.

Yes. This was insane.