A Home Far Away

by MadderJacker

Meluja sits in a stagnant peace, and the Guild thrives in a golden age of heroism. More than just the perfect cover, it's everything Riley could have asked for. And all he needs to do is stay silent and blend in. He tests the bounds of his new world, making friends and enemies alike, all under the protection of a Guildmaster sheltering the forsaken human. Pokemon Mystery Dungeon

53. Ain't No Grave

Chapter 53: Ain't No Grave

Despite twelve summers of endless training and study and dedication, Captain Nera had been assigned to this cursed scar upon the land to be forgotten.

Nera sat perched atop the spire with a cold contempt in her eyes, staring out at a hostile, empty expanse of land underneath a hostile, empty expanse of sky. Her crown of flames flickered and danced in the scalding winds: winds that brought only death. By day, they were the fumes of a forge that rolled across the desert relentlessly, and by night, they were the howls of damned souls as the gates to the underworld would unleash a frozen gale. Nobody should have had to live there. The tall, twisted spire surrounded by a network of arches and plateaus was itself a monument to what this land wrought.

And yet, it was hers now, thanks to her family.

The Infernape closed her eyes. She always had such bitter thoughts at the day's end and start. When things were temperate, she'd remember what her willpower would have her push through, and she would curse the weather for taunting them all. And as soon as that was done, she would enjoy the rest of that short time.

She raised her flute and placed her fingers appropriately, but her ears caught something. They perked behind her to tune into a faint buzzing sound that Nera recognized climbing up from the base of the spire. The seeds of alarm were uprooted, and she carefully waited for the usual…

"Captain Nera," a Flygon sounded off, landing a few paces behind her. Tied to her tail with a length of chain was an upside-down Riolu, dirty and beaten with his arms bound behind his back. He thrashed and fought and pulled his chains taut. "Lieutenant Porus, reporting from tour."

"Report," Nera answered, looking over her shoulder. The first thing she noticed was the ferocity in his eyes like a Wildie in a trap, and the first thing he noticed was the dead apathy in her own.

"Let me go," Riley growled, pulling and twisting his body to free himself from his restraints. It wasn't working. His breathing was restricted and he couldn't get any leverage. And even if his anger hid it, panic was clouding his mind. This was Nera? Did he have even a chance? Her stare was getting more intense.

The flames atop her head flickered as she lowered her flute, turning fully to stare at him. Her eyes went to the scarf next, and then to his ear…

"I found him in an outcrop to the southeast," Porus said. "He matches the description perfectly, but I figured you would know for sure. Is this the human?"

Nera stalked forward. Her shadow blocked out the sun, and her flames replaced it. Without a word she reached forward and placed a hand on his back, raising him to get a better look as Riley kicked and fought.

"Don't touch me," he growled, and yet, he could feel his anger slipping. It wasn't working. And moreover, she held him with a delicate care as if he were an artifact unearthed. Her hand brushed up his spine, over the sunbaked scarf, and to the top of his head where she ran her fingers over his burned ear. Riley fidgeted and tried to pull away. Her hand was shaking.

Drawing in a deep breath, she moved it down to his neck and pulled at his scarf. He gasped and turned towards her as a sudden feeling of cold overwhelmed him. "Hey!" Riley exclaimed, then snapped his jaws to bite at her. Her other hand shot forward in the blink of an eye to catch his muzzle, shutting it in a firm but gentle hold. Riley couldn't move his head. He pulled back and tried to glare at her, but he wasn't going anywhere. And she was merely looking at his neck now that the scarf was loose, tracing a finger over the fur.

The golden collar, Nera couldn't help but notice, was missing. And there didn't seem to be a scar on him. Nera let out a sigh, then set Riley down carefully.

"It's him," she confirmed, hardly more than a whisper. "How did you find him?"

"Traveling light. He hardly had anything in his bag," Porus answered, then tossed over the dusty bag with the emblem ripped out. A handful of dried berries, some rope, and a half dozen iron thorns clattered out. His canteen and the bag of Revivers that Kirlia had lent him remained inside. Riley gritted his teeth but otherwise did nothing. "He was in all likelihood not traveling alone, but I wasn't going to risk him escaping, given what he means to you."

Nera nodded thoughtfully. Word had been that he was with the Carnival. That had been weeks ago, so things might have changed, but there was no harm in being careful. He would have to be secured. Riley would not be allowed to get away.

And as she looked back down at him, Riley could sense that from her. Something behind the apathy that was more than mere duty. He felt himself waver and his ears fall flat against his head.

"Lieutenant," she called, and the Flygon stood a little straighter. "Prepare one of the hanging cages for our guest. I wish to speak with him for a moment."

"Yes, Captain," she sounded off. She turned around and adjusted the chain on her tail, unfastening it and letting it clatter onto the ground. After snapping to a salute, she pushed off the ground and took off towards one of the spires.

And there Riley remained. Nobody was holding his chains, yet he knew he couldn't get away. Not right now. Not with his arms free. Not without leaving his bag behind. He had to have faith.

The Infernape took two steps forward and knelt before him, putting herself on eye-level with the boy. A hot wind blew over the plateau, making her crown of flames flicker and dance like a flag. So too did Riley's scarf.

"Tell me," she said, "are you taunting us? Or is it all a coincidence?"

Riley swallowed. He could feel his heart beating, beating, beating in his chest. He looked up to the top of her head, and all he could think of was that one word from their palaver three days before: 'immolate.' Something he could not let happen.

"Taunting who?" he asked.

"Parading around in that body." Nera reached a hand forward to brush the underside of his muzzle, to which Riley forced himself to bear. "Showing him off to his family. Is it deliberate, or a coincidence?"

Riley winced, but forced himself to face her. "N-no," he said. "I was just passing through, and she saw me. I… I wish I could've talked to her more, but I… didn't." God, he'd been a mess when all that went down. If he hadn't been chased out of that city, could he have even had a sensible conversation with her? Would she even want to?

But Nera furrowed her brow, sizing the boy up. He seemed earnest, but she knew better than to trust someone based on appearances alone. Especially when humans were deceitful by nature. Time to prod.

Nera leaned forward and placed a palm on the ground beside her. Her knuckles flared as tiny fires breathed sparks into the wind. "Who?"

And at that, the boy blinked. "Who?" he asked, appalled. "Lucario. Or, if she had a name, I don't know it. Who else would it be?"

His rhetorical question received no change in reaction. The Infernape continued to stare, to measure him. But what for? Was he missing—

His breath caught in his throat as he rolled over the possibility once in his head, twice, thrice… And with a sinking feeling in his chest, he whispered, "Who else could it be?"

And after a second longer, that had been enough. Nera had her answer. She put her hands on her knees and pushed herself back up, and the Riolu's gaze followed her. Nera let out a weary sigh. "What do you want then?" she asked. "What's a human like you doing out here?"

But Riley wasn't having it. He narrowed his eyes at her and clenched his paws into fists. "Who else could it be?" he repeated.

"I asked you a—"

"And I asked first," Riley growled, stomping his foot as he took an aggressive step forward. Imperceptibly, Nera's eyes grew wider. The boy exhaled sharply. "I'm not some mastermind murderer criminal. I barely have a clue what's going on, and I'm trying to get to the bottom of it all. I just wanna fix this and smooth everything over. Make it all right. So if you know anything, say it. Please."

His heart pounded. He could feel his own blood boiling, boiling, boiling in his veins. He'd had enough of people teasing him like hanging treats in front of a dog. If she were to slug him for running his mouth, Riley wouldn't have any regrets, captain or no.

Nera's crown of flames dimmed. Instincts she thought long gone started to bubble once again. She caught herself falling victim to his pleas. She knew she couldn't, but even still, that earnesty, and that damned voice… She felt the presence of the Flygon more strong than ever. She could not let herself be weak.

Sighing, Nera shook her head and took a step forward, grabbing the length of chain and wrapping it around her hand. And with her other, she reached to grab the loose end of Riley's scarf. He gasped and tried to pull away, but he was too slow. With one good tug the loose bundle around his neck was undone, and the scarf was in her possession.

"H-hey!" Riley cried. "That's mine! Give it back!" He jumped up and bit for the loose end, but Nera raised her leg and intercepted him with her foot, shoving him back. "He gave that to me! Give it back!"

Her crown flickered, and Nera didn't take her eyes off the boy. "Did he now?" she mused, humming. A moment later though she turned and pulled the boy along. "It looks like we have much to talk about."

"Damn right we do," he snapped, jumping again to get a hold on the scarf. Nera stuck her arm out and shoved him away. His neck felt cold and his breathing was shallow. He needed the scarf. He needed the scarf.

Captain Nera shook her head. "I need to sort a few things out first," she said. "We need a royal witness so your immolation can be official." Nera didn't need to look to know that Riley's eyes just grew three sizes. His silence spoke volumes. "Until then, we'll have you locked away in one of the spires here."

'Immolation.' Riley imagined himself tied to a stake with a bed of kindling underneath him. He imagined a torch tossed atop it. He imagined the overwhelming heat as he fought in vain against his restraints. Just that quickly, everything he'd endured for and all the pain he'd caused would be for nothing.

"You… you can't," he insisted, his mouth ajar. His voice cracked. With every step his body felt heavier, colder. He bucked and pulled at his chains again, yet he couldn't break free. Desperate, Riley looked up to Nera, shaking with his ears flattened, and begged. "I— I need to fix this. It can't end like this."

Nera bit her lip. She felt her grip on the chain slacken. A part of her had awoken and risen from the darkest crevice, screaming a dozen frantic thoughts, but another part of her spiked the former back. It wasn't fair to use that voice against her.

"... I have to," Nera answered, and her grip grew tight again. "Your stay at the Crimson Spire won't be hospitable, but I'll do what I can to ensure it's not miserable. But that… That is all I can do."

Riley leaned back and planted his heels in the ground. He wheezed and kicked to try and jump away with a Quick Attack, yet Nera held on to his restraints like a string to a kite and pulled him back to earth. He landed flat on his stomach and gritted his teeth. There was nothing he could do, save for squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to cry.

…

"He's screwed."

Markus kicked at the sand and launched a small pebble into a jagged part of the outcrop, where it bounced and skittered away. It hurt to admit that. It had taken nearly an hour to work up to the point where he could admit that. For a while, Markus had been thinking about possible pursuits he could make, or ambushes, or stratagems, but each one had too many complications. They didn't have the resources to do anything safe.

Festuum hadn't been much better. He sat in the shade from the sunset, a cloak underneath him as his knees were held to his chest. "We don't have the time," he murmured. "By the books, he has at most four days. We can't make it anywhere to grab… anything. I… Markus, can we even save him?"

He was hardly moving. His mask and wrappings were loose, and Riley's staff rested in his hands. He'd noticed that it was perfectly straight and smoothed and the perfect width for his grip, but that observation had long since been buried by all the other thoughts. At the moment, he was using it to draw sketches in the sand.

"There wasn't anything we could've done," he noted, quiet. "Attack them during a sandstorm? They had a massive advantage. And they were probably alert. We'd only get captured with him."

Festuum let out a longing sigh. "... I…. I like the kid, y'know," he lamented. "Made me feel… Well, made me feel. He was fun to mess with. Right now they're probably getting a kick out of him."

"Or maybe they're listening carefully," Markus said, his voice hoarse. "He could be telling them about us to scare them. Or lying and saying there's fifty of us. Or saying he's alone. But I promise you, he's singing something to them."

The Greninja's head sank further until his face was buried in his arms. "What the hell are we gonna do, man?" he pleaded.

Markus exhaled through his nostrils, and dust plumed off his face. "Move on," he answered. "He told us what Uxie said. And we have a vague idea of where his friends will show up."

Festuum blinked. The chill of night came early as he drew his head back up to stare at the back of Markus's head. His mouth was ajar as he rifled for a word to say. His heart twinged.

"What…" Festuum swallowed. "Markus, I… I must've heard you wrong," he said gravely.

The staff continued to scratch, scratch, scratch away at the ground, amplified by the silence between them. Idle scratching, aimless scratching, drawing simple patterns in the sand and crossing them out. Festuum could see that much.

His hands tightened around his forearms. "Markus," Festuum stressed.

"We fucked up," he barked back, hanging his head. "He's gone. Nera has him." Festuum could just see his mouth pull back into a sneer. "Because of course she does. Of-fucking-course." His hands were shaking as they white-knuckled the staff.

And so were Festuum's. Fury and disgust lifted him to his feet as his tongue drew back into his throat and away from the slimy green wrap around his neck. A grimace formed as he marched towards him. "So you're abandoning him," he accused.

"Life stole him," Markus countered. "I don't have a choice. I never have a choice."

"You do have a choice," Festuum insisted. "You sound just like Command did. Are you really going to put him through that? You of all people?"

Gritting his teeth, Markus threw the staff aside and jumped to his feet, kicking the sketches away. His face was red and his eyes were grim. "And what the hell am I supposed to do?!" he bellowed, throwing his arms out. "In case you forgot, I'm next to useless in this hellworld! I got into one fight, and I was a quarter inch from getting my throat ripped out!"

"You don't have to—"

"And then it'd all be meaningless!" Markus roared to his friend, to Nera, to the whole damned world. "Everything I dragged you through, everything Kanga's done, every night I slept under a fucking log, everything this nightmare has done to..." His chest heaved in and out, in and out as Markus took rapid, raspy breaths.

Festuum bit his lip. In the past few sentences, Markus had said more than in the previous decade. He felt paralyzed. Was he supposed to comfort his friend or refuse to budge from this point? Markus rarely ever needed a delicate touch before.

His strength left him, and Markus fell to his knees. He put on a shaky smile and let out a humorless snort. "Gallade's dead and his secrets are gone. His kid is on our tail and will probably try and kill us. That fuckin' Espeon is out there doing God knows what, Bisharp's doing the same, and just… Of course. Of course Riley's gone too."

A trembling hand reached towards the ground and grasped at the sand. It spilled out onto the desert floor, into a colossal hourglass. Wasted time, wasted efforts, as far as the eye could see.

His voice rang hollow as his facade of a smile withered away. "We'll find his friends, and they'll turn traitor and try and kill us. And then those desert ruins will turn out to be a joke. And just…" He let out a sigh so empty that Festuum could hear his spirit drift away with it. "I'm… I'm so tired."

Before he knew it, Festuum had made up his mind. With silent steps he closed the gap between them and squatted beside his friend. He raised a hand to place on Markus's shoulder, but he opted not to. Markus wasn't in the right space to be comforted.

"I'd like to tell you a story," Festuum offered, hardly more than a whisper. "Some of the details are fuzzy, since I don't remember everything, but I think you'd like to hear it. Is that okay?"

Markus glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but otherwise didn't react: a tentative approval. Festuum nodded.

"A long time ago, a man saved my life when I washed up on the beach," he explained, distant ethereal. "When I had nowhere to go, he gave me a roof. When I had nothing to be, he gave me purpose. His life wasn't the best. I knew he was in a place he didn't want to be. But even still, I was lost, and this was a man I respected more than anyone. I followed him like a Lillipup.

"He moved on one day, and I was happy for him. I went with him. Little did I know that we were going to hell."

Here, Festuum paused. A bitter yet content smirk flashed on his face.

"He was fine, of course. People could yell at him all day, he could run for an hour, he could be given any punishment, and he wouldn't bat an eye. I wasn't that strong. We couldn't be any different. I laughed too easy, all that running made me sore, and every time I had to hold those poses for hours, I just kept wondering why I was even there, y'know? What had I gotten myself into? But… All I had to do was look across the compartment, and I'd see him give me a quiet nod. 'You can do this.' It would get me through another day."

He stopped for a second to catch his breath, taking the opening to read Markus again. There was something in his eyes. They were a hair wider than before.

"And so," Festuum exhaled, "I shouldered a task far beyond myself and survived through to the end with him. Broken, deceived, regretful, but stronger than anyone could ever want to be. And thus we were molded into killers. We went where we were told, did what was asked, and lived lives we could hardly call living. I remember our contracts ran out, and I asked him what we would do next. And he just… shrugged. He told me he extended his, but I was free to do what I wanted. So I sighed and extended mine too. I had already followed this man to hell.

"And then, years later, came his last mission."

Silently, Markus tensed his shoulders. He glared over to Festuum with a fire ignited within him, but he didn't object. Festuum shut his eyes and went on.

"Our intel was wrong, and the mission went south. We had to evacuate. He was in charge, so he was the last one out. He was covering for a rookie to get to the extraction point, and for his reward he was cut off. I think someone triggered a trap. Part of the building was collapsed, and he was still inside. The pilot didn't want to, but time was urgent. We flew away. I tried to jump out to get him, but the others were stronger than me. I couldn't get out.

"And when we got back to Command, they wouldn't do anything. He was almost guaranteed to be dead, they said. It was a dangerous mission and the bastards probably wouldn't have the chance to take him prisoner. They'd perform recon and do some intel, but the jungle canopy was too thick, and the region was impossibly big. Chances were slim. Days went by and they found nothing. Weeks went by and they heard nothing. He was just… MIA."

Markus's hand slowly grasped at the sand and formed a fist so tight it could crush somebody's beating heart. His jaw tensed.

"One-hundred-and-thirty-eight days later, he was found again by the locals. Malnourished, sick, jabbering to himself, but alive against all odds. Escaped an encampment after eleven days of torture, avoided pursuers for weeks, endured the elements for even longer… He stayed on mountaintops to hope satellites would pick him up, but they were dangerous. Nobody was there to help him. For four and a half months, he'd just been abandoned. I visited him every day I could while he was in the hospital, of course, but he was pissed about it all. That anyone weaker than him would have died to all that, and nobody had gone in to save them."

"Sounds like he's always had shitty luck," Markus said through tight lips.

Festuum shook his head, ignoring the comment. "When he found everything out, he promised me something," he soothed. "He said that he wouldn't be a pawn anymore, and that anyone who turned their back to their men was lower than human. And when his contract ran out, he left to go work somewhere else. I followed, of course, more sure than ever that I made the right choice."

For a long, long while, neither said a word. A hot wind blew by as the story settled. It had been a long time since Festuum had even talked about those days. He didn't like to think about them much. For every fragment of nostalgia, there was another fragment of constant fear, of discomfort, of worry, of pain. But at the same time, he had made a friend for life there, and that came with its share of joys.

It must have been at least a minute before Markus opted to break it. He drew in a quiet breath and struggled to speak. "I… I didn't remember that last part of the story," he murmured. "But, it does sound… right. I think."

Soberly, Festuum nodded his head and stood upright. Here his hand settled firmly on his shoulder, pressing his fingers into the muscles.

"Riley needs you, Chief," he insisted. "He needs both of us. It might be suicide, but… I'm tired too. I'm tired of watching you killing yourself like this. You're throwing everything away for the sake of an uncertain future. It's time to do something for the present."

His head turned to meet Festuum's gaze, but he had already looked away. Giving him the privacy was the least he could do.

Festuum cleared his throat. "You can stay here if you'd like. Process everything and make up your mind," he said. "And when that's over, you can either follow me or play it safe. That's your call. But I'm gonna make a bet on the kid."

Festuum shut his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, then adjusted the straps on his bag. He reached for the cloak he left on the ground and loosely draped it over him. All the while, he didn't give Markus another look. If a man like him wanted to cry, wanted to grimace, wanted to do anything, Festuum would at least let him keep his dignity about it. Markus didn't want their last time seeing each other to be shamed.

The thief waved behind him, then began away into the desert. "Good luck," he wished. "May you find peace, man. You need it."

If that would be the last time he were to see him, Festuum didn't know how he would feel. He supposed that was something he'd discover later. Perhaps Markus would need time for everything to settle, and he'd make steps towards finding a place he could relax again. Maybe a more permanent solution with Kanga. Or perhaps Markus would only see that he lost everything. That had been a conclusion Festuum had been trying to avoid, but it was still true. And if neither of them came home again, what would Kanga think then? Could Markus break her heart? Or, perhaps…

"W… Wait," Markus called.

Festuum stopped. Only then did he realize his heart had been pounding.

The man staggered to his feet. He wiped away neither tears nor a grimace. However he'd reacted to it, Festuum would never know. Markus hung his head and couldn't rip his eyes away from the ground, but even still, there was an old fire given fuel inside.

"I'll… I'll help," he relented. "The man you were talking about— it seems like you… like you put a lot of trust in what he said." Markus exhaled. "Maybe I should listen. He had things more figured out than I do."

Festuum leaned to the side and smiled with relief. "And I think he'd be happy to hear that," he said, then turned again and started to walk with a vigor and urgency that wasn't there before. "Now let's go. We got a kid to save."

Markus adjusted his gear and pulled up his hood. "Right," he answered. "We'll have to wait until we get there to do some investigating, but I'm already starting to get a plan underway."

Festuum raised a brow. "Oh? Let's hear it then."

"It's called Operation: Vienna Summer." He'd switched to English for the title.

"Vienna Summer," Festuum echoed, tasting the name. "Not bad. Not bad at all. What's it about?"

After a short pause, Markus shrugged. "Dunno," he answered, dipping down to grab Riley's staff as he followed. He tucked that between his belt and his pants. "I haven't gotten any further than that."

A bemused snort of laughter escaped as Festuum shook his head. "There he is."

…

A thin sliver of icy blue hovered just off of Riley's paw as he sawed back and forth on the bar of his window well into the night. Dawn wasn't far off. Maybe an hour or two away? It was hard to keep track of time. It felt like it had been an eternity, but the sky was getting even darker now. If the turn of phrase was right, he had to hurry. He had to get out of here.

Every couple of seconds, he couldn't help himself. Riley would squeeze his eyes shut and raise his sensors, and the world around him would be painted in grays and blacks. He would see the small confines of the cave he found himself in, and the metal door with a single open slot. He'd see the door to another cell that was empty. Out the window he saw the outside of the spire, and beyond that, a pale sky and foggy depths to plunge into. And in a narrow hall between the cells, an aura was on patrol. She was currently laying down where the hall turned off into more pale fog. He couldn't see far beyond it.

Riley knew he was being stupidly reckless. Any noise he made risked alerting the guard, and this one was already curious about him. But he didn't have years to make an escape. He didn't have time to hang around and bide his time. And even if he did, he felt like he'd freeze to death if he stayed any longer. And all he needed was one more minute.

It was as cold as the grave in there. Markus had warned him about desert nights, but did he mean to this extent? The wind that blew through his window made him feel like winter came early. It was like they locked him in a freezer, and that wool blanket wasn't enough to shield him. Oh, if only he had his scarf back. If only he had that perpetual sunbaked feeling again wrapped around his neck. He needed it back. He'd kill for it. He'd—

Nails clicked on the rock outside, and Riley tensed. The needle evaporated as Riley let go. He fell to the floor, pulled the blanket over himself, and went back to shivering. And he waited.

A shadow passed over the hole in the cell as the guard peered inside. Riley could feel her eyes on his back, watching him like an animal in a zoo. The irony was not lost on him.

"Are… Are you okay?" asked a Houndoom tentatively. Her voice was rough and raspy, yet still delicate in its own way.

Riley bristled. He said not a word.

Houndoom exhaled. "You shouldn't be shivering like that if you're from here. Are you sick?"

Still he said nothing. He hoped he wasn't. Riley had never been this cold before.

"Or… Or, is this... a human thing?" she whispered, as if afraid someone else might hear her and chastise her curiosity.

'Human thing.' Riley shut his eyes and he drew in a deep, chilled breath. What was 'human thing' even supposed to mean? Shivering. He was shivering, and that was a 'human thing.' Everything he did these days was.

Riley bit his lip as he held himself tighter. What did they expect from him? Did they think he was some jittery Lovecraftian abomination hiding under this skin? Some flesh-hungry alien?

When no response came, the Houndoom's voice was little more than a whisper, delicate and ginger. "Are… Are you scared?"

His ears fell flat against his head. The shivering stopped as, for only a moment, Riley forgot the cold. He wanted to turn around, to read her face.

She let out a low sigh, and a long pause followed as she mulled over her words. "I'm… I'm sorry," she lamented. "I don't like this either. It's supposed to stop it from happening to us too, but…" Her claws scratched against the metal as she grit her teeth. For an instant, the light of a small flame flickered on the walls. "It's… It's not…"

She didn't finish the statement, but whatever the word would have been, Riley understood. It wasn't fair. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stay quiet.

The shadow left the peephole, and nails clicked back down the hall. Maybe she knew there was nothing she could say for something that must have gone on for ages. Maybe she felt powerless too. Maybe, maybe, maybe a hundred little things.

When he heard nothing again, he looked over his shoulder and saw nothing. He raised his sensors and saw that the Houndoom was curled up at the end of the hall, her aura moving much slower than what he thought was normal. The coast was clear again.

Setting the blanket aside, Riley shut his eyes and focused again. Aura ebbed and flowed to his arm, and he focused and focused and focused to slow its course. And just when it stopped, he fired a small burst from his palm the size of a torch flame, which his digits compressed and shaped into a tiny needle. He raised his sensors again, and when he saw nothing changed, he hopped up to the window again as quietly as he could.

All that was left of the central bar was the tiniest piece on the top. If the snap wouldn't have alerted Houndoom, he would've ripped it away and be done with it. As it stood though, he went back to his restless routine, filing away at the bar as quietly as he could. And soon…

The final piece gave way, and Riley swooped his other paw in to catch the bar, which he set atop his blanket as carefully as he could. He braced for the cold wind and peeked his head out.

The flat face of the mesa stretched on for a long ways, and from the angle he was at, he couldn't see the bottom of the canyons that divided the stone like rivers across a prairie. A few tunnels hid on the cliff faces, and there were likely dozens more that he couldn't see. More spires arose irregularly of varying size, and the largest was, of course, in the center. Yet aside from dust in the freezing winds, he didn't see any movement.

He looked back over his shoulder towards the gap in the door. That Houndoom was going to get in trouble for this…

Sucking in one last breath, Riley twisted his body to fit through the bars, and took the forty-foot plunge. He hit the ground and rolled. His heart was pounding. There was no time to waste. He had to move, and he had to do it now. He had to get his scarf back and book it.

Captain Nera had pulled it right off his neck that evening, so there was a good chance it was still with her somewhere. It would be safest there. Even though Riley knew he hadn't any idea of the Crimson Spire's layout, and all those tunnels meant that there could be some secret chamber somewhere, yet he had no idea of where to begin. And that central tower probably had connections to all those other places, and a door right on the front. It would be a great risk… But it was one he was going to take.

He knew it was stupid. Riley knew damn well that he could, and probably should, just leave without it. He should've grabbed a canteen and ran east as far as he could. But Riley had bled for that scarf. He stole it back from the neck of a monster, and Gallade had entrusted it to him. It had history. Maybe it even played a part in everything that was going on. And whatever power it granted him, Riley would need every ounce of it if he hoped to stand up to whatever got in his way. The very idea of leaving without it made him feel… wrong. He needed it back.

Riley crept closer to the first canyon and peered over the edge. A sharp drop led to a bed of red sand some hundred feet below. Tunnels and passageways were burrowed into the cliff face at varying heights. A few of them were connected by rope bridges that swayed in the winds. Most, however, were isolated from the rest.

For a moment, Riley wondered what made these tunnels. None of them seemed to be the same shape or size as the others.

But then he saw flickering light from a tunnel at ground-level, and it was steadily getting brighter. Closer? He had to move, and he had to do it now.

Riley backpedaled away from the cliff, then dropped into a runner's four-point stance. He pushed off the ground as hard as he could and leaned forward. Just shy of the edge, he kicked away with a Quick Attack, leaving a white streak behind him as he soared. His arms swung in circles as if he were trying to drag himself further through the air, and…

His upper half hit the other side while the edge of the cliff smacked into his gut. Riley grunted and started to slip, but his feet went to work pushing off the cliffside. Loose rocks skittered down as he pulled himself up and over the edge, rolling away and laying flat on the ground. He sucked in a breath and waited.

As the seconds crawled by, the desert remained still. The wind abated. Nothing climbed atop the mesa, nothing cried out down below. All was quiet.

Riley frowned. When Festuum had first told him about this place, he made getting caught out to be a death sentence, but here he felt like he could practically walk out of here if he wanted to. Of course this place didn't have spotlights or drones, but this was too…

No. Riley shook his head and got up again. They had to have a trick he didn't know about. It wouldn't be this simple. Riley wouldn't let himself get caught unprepared.

He snuck his way to the central spire, inspecting it in the starlight. There were a few things resembling dusty windows, but their interiors were dark with thick curtains. A wooden door at the ground level stood shut in front of him. The whole thing was jagged and irregular, save for a rounded top that seemed almost hand-smoothed. It reminded him abstractly of a barbershop pole.

Holding his breath, Riley shut his eyes and raised his sensors to peer inside, but he stopped a few steps away from the door. He couldn't see beyond it. The glass window warded the grays and blacks from showing him what was inside. No gap under the door, no crack in the stone, no hidden slot offered a way through.

Swallowing, Riley instead opened his eyes and placed his ear against the door, with the touch as delicate as a fly's. He kept his breath held and waited… Waited… two… three… four… five… six… Nothing. He didn't hear so much as a draft. Bracing himself, Riley reached up to the doorknob and, ever so quietly, he twisted it.

The door was unlocked, and it swung outward without protest. A stale, musty smell wafted over Riley as he froze in place. An unlocked door seemed too convenient, but, he saw no shred of movement inside. There was only a cleaned wooden table with room for six chairs, a few cupboards, and a window that let in faint starlight. Nothing else. Closing his eyes and raising his sensors showed nothing lurking, and a stairway carved into the stone on the other side of the apparent dining room.

Looking left and right on reflex, Riley tiptoed into the room and eased the door shut behind him, and twisted the knob so it didn't spring back. He hunched over and started towards the other side of the room. The silence inside the spire was eerie. All he could hear was his own beating heart, his own stressed breathing. He had to calm down. Riley knew he had to, but it was hard not to think about it. Had that Houndoom looked back into his cell? Did those rocks he kicked get any attention? Were there Pokémon lurking just out of sight, waiting for their opportunity? He had to be quick.

He ducked under the table, wove around the chairs, and made his way to a stairway whose steps were a bit big for him. His sensors showed they went up for a while, spiraling around the edge of the stone spire. There was a door halfway up that was snugly fit in its frame. Beyond it, he saw nothing, but as he made his way closer, a faint… something alerted him. Something was making noise. Murmuring? Moving? He didn't know.

Holding his breath, Riley perked his ear and leaned in close, this time making sure not to touch the door…

… And a voice, distant and dreamy and quiet, mumbled under her breath. Between its pauses, there was a low buzz that Riley recognized. "... Nera," she said. "... worry… it's not…" Something rustled, then settled again.

Flygon, a wide-eyed Riley mouthed, pedaling to the opposite side of the stairway. He couldn't win that. If she got off whatever she needed to stun him again, that was it. He shook his head to himself and promptly continued on past, where one more door awaited him.

And from the tiniest of gaps under this door, there was a dim orange light that flickered on the floor. It shifted around, dimming and brightening, as soft steps strolled around the room. It could have been someone carrying a candle, but that wouldn't explain why his heart stopped. His paranoia insisted it was Nera. The Infernape was awake. Of course she was. She was up and awake and doing stretches and ready to pound his face into the floor and then burn him—

Focus. He mentally grabbed himself by the shoulders and forced himself to stop shaking. There was nobody else to solve his problems, to bail him out. Deep, quiet breaths…

Steadied, Riley crept towards the keyhole and put his face right up to it. Through the thin gap he could see the Infernape's back as she undid and refolded the sheets on her bed. Behind her he could see a great bay window, and against the wall he saw something that looked like a wardrobe. And Riley held his breath as his gaze honed in on a corner of silk caught in the dresser door. It was a vibrant, otherworldly shade of red that Riley would recognize anywhere. She had his scarf.

He took a few silent steps back before allowing himself to breathe again. He grit his teeth and pulled on his aura sensors. Why did she have to be awake?! Now what the hell was he supposed to do? If he tried to hide and wait for her to leave, he would risk someone finding his empty cell between now and then. And that would only work if she actually left his scarf in her room. He'd have better luck if he just knocked on the door and asked for it.

He blinked. His grip eased up as a distant look came over him. That… actually was his only option, unless he was willing to gamble further. And the worst part was that, as he added up the details in his head, there were multiple points in his favor. Nera didn't know the extent of his abilities. If he approached her like this, he'd seem naive, and earlier in the day she had clearly been hiding something. They were supposed to talk later anyways, right? There was a fair chance she wouldn't immediately grab him, and from there, he could keep a conversation going. And the moment her guard was lowered, all he had to do was stun her, then make his escape. Maybe find somewhere to hide and...

He didn't like the idea. It felt manipulative, like the kind of thing Kirlia or Markus would deploy. And they'd say it didn't matter. They would say that the captain was planning on immolating him at the stake, and it was either this or staying around to die. Riley bit his lip.

With a plan in his head, Riley ascended the final few steps to the door and rapped his knuckle. His heart was pounding yet his face was hardened as the light under the door grew brighter. He remembered their talk before. He remembered his indignation, his annoyance, the feeling of her dangling answers in front of his face like a toy on a string…

The door opened. The tall figure of an Infernape looked forward, and when nobody was there, her gaze shifted down. Riley stared back at her. Nera's brows raised a hair, but otherwise, she did nothing but blink. Promising.

"I want to talk," Riley demanded, keeping his voice low. "I told you it wasn't ending like that, and I meant it."

Every conscious bit of effort he had was put into maintaining eye contact. He had to think like Markus would, like Rose would, like Kirlia would. If Riley started looking around, it would make him seem like he was up to something.

With each passing second, the air grew heavier around them. Nera's crown of flames gradually flickered hotter, brighter, as if waking up. After an eternity, she finally found her words, and her mouth opened at last. "... You broke out."

"I came to find you," Riley corrected.

Her mouth opened again, then closed, then opened again. "... Y… You have," she said. "Why?"

"Because you knew Jade."

Something sparked within her. Her crown of flames flared up to its full, fiery whip. A dozen different things flashed on her face in rapid succession— shock, fury, grief, contempt, confusion, god knew what else. But the one thing Riley didn't see was indecision. He faltered and took a frightened step back, but Nera lurched forward. Her hand seized him by the loose skin around his shoulders. The boy yelped as he was lifted up to her eye-level, where she burned a hole into his face with her gaze.

"Why are you taunting me?" she growled, her quiet rage more terrifying than any monster's roar.

Riley placed his paws on her fingers and fought against her grip, kicking and thrashing and panicking. Bad idea. This was a bad idea. "I'm not trying to…" She was holding onto him like she was trying to rip him apart. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled back a single finger. "You're… hurting me," he croaked.

Any second now he'd be thrown into the wall. She'd pin him and beat him until everything was dark, and then he'd wake up in restraints. Riley cursed himself. Of course he'd misread her. Why did he pull this on nothing more than a hunch? Why did he…

But no punch came. Her other hand reached over to hold the side of his chest, and her tight grip relaxed to move to his other side. The pain subsided. Riley almost didn't believe it at first, but she was shaking. Ever so slowly, he opened his eyes again.

"Then tell me," she whispered, "how do you know that name?"

Riley swallowed. "I… Uxie," he said. "I found Uxie. I-in the Forest of Mirrors, she showed me things about him. She… It's a long story."

Her gaze drifted down as she pondered. She mouthed that name, 'Uxie,' and stood there as her confused brew of emotions had time to simmer. Her lips pursed into a tight frown as her hands shook again, but the look in her eyes grew dull and soft.

"... Very well." Nera stepped back and placed Riley on the floor. The door clicked shut. There was a tense peace, but Riley was keenly aware that he was trapped with her. "Just, let's make this quick."

Riley finally started to look around, now that he had a moment. The room was more elegant than he had expected it to be. The bedframe was ornate and almost reflective in spots, and the sheets and blankets and pillows were all the same shade of dark, muted blue. Every bit of fabric was pulled taut as to not let a single wrinkle slip. The desk had a small number of papers and folders that were stacked on the edge, and a few sticks of charcoal next to a blank stack. In a way, it reminded him of Gallade's desk. Other pieces of furniture lined the room. A wardrobe-looking thing, a nightstand, some sort of cabinet next to the desk, and two thick curtains blocking the window. And yet, they were all scuffed and faintly dirty, like they were protesting them being placed in a stone room like this.

His eyes passed over it the first time, but they quickly flicked back to the desk. Right on the wall behind it was a map, showing a great mesa and a network of tunnels through the stone. He could see rooms deep within, the walls, the doors, but no labels. If he had longer then perhaps he could path out an escape. Alas though, he didn't want to push his luck.

Besides, a familiar shade of otherworldly red caught his eye, poking out of the corner of the wardrobe. His scarf was haphazardly shoved inside. Riley felt himself start to lunge for it, but an ounce of reason held him in place. He clenched his teeth and kept his arms by his side. Riley needed that scarf back— merely being without it felt unnatural— but he couldn't be that foolish. Nobody is here to bail you out, he reminded himself.

Nera sat on the edge of her bed. Her elbows rested on her thighs while her hands folded together. A low, shuddery breath escaped as she tapped her foot on the stone.

"I'm… I should hate you," she lamented. "You're unnatural. You've stolen him. You're… But I can't." Nera squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not… It's…"

His ears fell flat against his head as a twinge of guilt struck him. The weight pulled his gaze down. "I know," he said. "It's not fair. I don't… But I still want to make things right. Which means with his mother, too. So if you know anything, then…"

Nera shifted and her flames dimmed. She inhaled, then exhaled, then inhaled again to steady herself. "I… I don't know how to say this, but he…" She paused again. It was a strange thing to pop into Riley's head, but she looked like she needed a drink. Her tail swooped over into her lap, where she held the end with a closed fist and squeezed. "... He was my brother."

His breathing stopped. The plan lay forgotten as his blood somehow ran even colder through his veins. Guilt struck again with the force of a sledgehammer, and Riley found himself unable to move. His mouth opened, yet all he could produce was a quiet, choked gasp.

She exhaled. Her hand loosened up on her tail tip, and she opened her eyes just enough to stare at the floor. "I haven't seen him in a long time. Lapis took y—… Jade, and fled in the night when he was still a pup. That was eleven autumns ago, but I still remember him."

A small but vocal part of him wanted to leave, to run from her clear discomfort, and he felt his foot lift to take a step away. And yet some force of will kept him in place by the shoulders. He took a deep breath, held it, then bowed his head to her.

"I… thank you," he said. "This has to be hard. I wouldn't think anyone would hear me out like this, but you did."

Nera was still. Her head slowly raised to look him over, studying him once again. Her eyes softened. "... Yeah," she admitted. "It is. But, I've had some time to prepare since I heard about Lapis and Io in the past few weeks."

Riley looked up. For but a moment, that choked feeling was back. "'Io?'" he echoed.

The infernape shut her eyes and let out a slow stream of breath. Her flame momentarily brightened to a sunny yellow. "There were five of us before the family shattered. Lapis… Mother had been the main source of our status, so when she fled with you, we had little holding us up anymore. Father had favors and secrets, so he only fell to a position they made up to keep him sated. I had been a capable fighter, so they kept me. And Io… she was only a cycle older than Jade at the time. She doesn't remember it well. But that wasn't the best way to be raised, and she ended up getting into trouble, and she was exiled and had her name revoked." Here she paused, and her hands clenched down on her tail again. "And then, a few weeks ago, she stole something and tried to smuggle it all the way into Implentur. But you got the job to stop her and her friend the Drilbur."

Riley's fur stood on end. He remembered that one Monferno that fought like a demon and used her splint like a club. The image of her charging at him with a fist coated in fire only to fling sand in his eyes flashed in his head. The very same one? He… Riley didn't know what to make of it, but it wasn't pleasant.

He swallowed. "I… I see," Riley said, then stood up straight and raised his voice. "Is she okay? Last I remember, we handed her off to some Dewott."

Her fingers flexed and unflexed as her lips pursed into a tight frown. "I wouldn't know." A hoarse whisper was all she could muster. There was a short, thoughtful pause before Nera cleared her throat. "But, I have to ask something first. And I was honest with you. Please— return the favor here. Did Gallade give you that mission? Or anyone at all?"

The boy furrowed his brow, pulling back as he sifted through his memories. "N… No," he answered. "I remember pulling it off the board myself. The name sounded interesting to me."

She nodded as if satisfied, but her mind only worked faster. Her gaze darted hither and thither around the room as if connecting invisible threads to invisible points. "Then, if it was nothing but the fickle whims of fate, what… What was he doing with you?"

In that instant, Riley knew he had to make a decision. If he lied and played innocent, Nera could catch onto him. She was sharp. And maybe she knew something already. Yet if he told the truth, while it might catch her further off guard, God only knew what could come of it…

The instant passed, and Riley steeled himself. "I don't know," he answered, deciding on a half-truth. It wasn't as if anything he knew could help. "I always suspected he knew about me, but I never got an answer out of the guy. He's hard to really talk to, and like I said, I'm no mastermind."

Silence. Nera narrowed her gaze as her thoughts went back to work, making her crown light up like a bonfire. Though Riley couldn't hope to guess just what connections she was trying to make, he knew what it felt like to try and make sense of the Guildmaster. It was a familiar, lost feeling, and though her stakes were different, she wasn't taking it lightly either. For her to even humor him to let him speak, let alone have a conversation like this…

He wondered what her aura would look like if he closed his eyes. What else was she carrying?

An impulse nudged Riley forward a step, and before he even knew what he was doing, Riley was approaching, careful and non-threatening. "I don't think I can give specifics, but I'm onto something," he said. Nera gave him an increasingly curious glance as he grew closer. Her hands shifted just so slightly. "And if it works, I can stop all this madness from ever happening again. So…" Sucking in a breath, Riley jumped up next to her and lunged forward.

Nera started to recoil. "What are you—"

His arms wrapped around her torso as he pulled himself in: one last embrace from beyond the grave. He leaned in as she sat petrified with her arms out to the side. Her crown sputtered and dimmed as she choked off a gasp. Riley could physically feel her heart skip a beat, yet he only held on tighter as his eyes squeezed shut.

A shaking, gentle hand drifted down to his back as Nera suppressed a shiver. He felt her hug grow tighter, tighter, and her fingers clench into a loose fist as she grasped his fur. For a long moment, neither moved an inch, and Riley had to listen to a grown woman hold back a sob in the back of her throat. His heart panged, but he ignored it.

Eventually, she brought her arm away, and Riley pulled back and jumped off the bedside. Nera was still shivering. Her hands crept and folded together until her knuckles flared with tiny white flames. Small serpents of smoke slithered up from her pressed fingertips. There was a clear look of revelation written on her face.

Riley nodded, then glanced over to the corner of his scarf caught in the wardrobe. His heart started to pound again in his chest. Kirlia wouldn't hesitate. Markus wouldn't hesitate. Rose…

But, he was an idiot by nature.

"So trust me," he proclaimed, then kicked off the ground with a Quick Attack. An outstretched arm swiped at the scarf as he passed. The warmth flooded through him like he had dipped into a hot spring. The relief was immense, but he couldn't get distracted just yet. He looped his wrist around it and jumped up for the window.

"W-wait," Nera barked, snapping back to reality. She twisted around and tore the sheets off the mattress as she jumped after him. Yet she was too slow. Riley undid the latch and pushed open the window. A frozen wind blew into her room and the curtains billowed as he jumped away. He remembered the wild, desperate look in her eyes. It ran in the family.

He'd planned to twist around and survey the mesa, praying he might recognize the direction he came from while he was up here. It would give him an idea of where to go and where to hide, but he didn't even hit the ground before that ceased to matter.

Nera screamed into the winds a single word at the top of her lungs: "Dechina!" And the moment she did, the spire shifted. Dust puffed off the stone and pebbles skittered and clattered. Riley twisted around to see Nera leaning out the window, and that rounded shape atop the spire began to rise. Glowing yellow patterns emerged on its surface, and a jagged, almost wispy-looking protrusion jutted out of the very top. Two crooked dots emerged there and honed in on Riley.

In his state of disbelief, Riley hit the ground back-first and let out a pained gasp. He scrambled to his feet and towards the canyon as the thing atop the spire shot upwards as thick, blocky arms and legs burst from its main body. There was a rumble and a thwoom as it jumped high off the spire and crashed down on the mesa between the boy and his escape. The ground shook. A cloud of dust shrouded the monster as Riley slid to a screeching halt. Its heavy steps turned its body towards him, and those two crooked eyes looked down at him.

It raised an arm, and Riley watched in horrified fascination as its hand retreated into its arm to reveal a dark, empty interior. As the dust started to clear, Riley saw what looked almost like a star against the black void of space right in the center, but it grew into a bright, pale yellow sphere. And then it flashed. Riley hardly had time to react, and he dove to the right as a beam fired from the thing's arm. Shrapnel flew over him. The newly-created sand scattered into the air and rained onto his back. Riley looked behind him and felt himself go cold again. A channel had been carved clean into the mesa, like a shovel through a beach.

"SURRENDER," it bellowed. Its voice was deep and cavernous and absolute. Its arm aimed for Riley again, and that little star began to glow. Riley gritted his teeth and shielded his eyes. Now that the dust settled, he could see it more clearly in the starlight. A Golurk that towered over him. He wondered if it was even bigger than the Aggron from Scizor's group.

Something landed behind him, and Riley whirled to see Nera in a three-point stance. She wasn't advancing. Aside from her crown, there was no fire to be seen, yet with one look on her face Riley could tell she was serious.

He felt a tremor in his voice, and he suppressed a shiver before raising his voice to her. "You need to let me go!" he barked. "I meant everything I said! If I die, then—"

"Not another word," she cut in. Through the wind, Riley could hear concerned voices, shuffling sand, a buzzing sound from somewhere. Intently, Nera stared dead into him, almost through him. "You're too trusting for your own good. Now stand. Down."

Riley's fur stood on end. He glared daggers at her as he growled like a rabid Wildie. Even after all that, she would try and capture him? Everything that they said had been real, and she seemed to trust him as well, yet she would stop him? After all that? Of course she would. All she saw was some dumb, naive kid who couldn't handle himself. In over his head. A waste.

With a frustrated roar, Riley whirled and dove forward with a Quick Attack. The Golurk fired another beam and traced it along his path, carving a hole in the stone. Riley could feel the excess heat on his heels, pushing him to move faster. With only an instant to look beforehand, he jumped into the canyon.

A Watchog ran out of one of the tunnels and along the highest rope bridge, yellow stripes reflecting starlight back at him. Riley only had time to hear the start of an alarmed cry and see those red eyes turn on him before he was dropping right by. His tail gleamed as it transmuted to metal, and his paw grabbed the side of the bridge. The whole thing sagged and swayed to one side, bouncing back and forth as the ropes protested. The Watchog had been too slow to react, and as the bridge went sideways, he slid right off as he frantically grabbed for anything. Riley returned his tail back to normal, scrambled back up, and ran with hardly a second thought.

From his peripherals he saw two things. Something bright and orange was falling behind him, and something even brighter was rocketing down and towards him. The legs of the construct had seemingly disappeared, and from the hole in its clay tunic shot a concentrated jet of lavender fire as it propelled itself through the air. It aimed a closed fist at him, and there was a thunderous boom as it launched off like a missile and shot right for him.

Riley yelped and sprang forward with yet another Quick Attack, just in time to take cover in the tunnel. The fist crashed into the side of the canyon. Dust shook from the ceiling.

"SURRENDER," it roared again. Something crumbled outside. The wall as its fist retracted?

Riley closed his eyes. If it were any other circumstances, he'd be in awe. Now though he needed to focus. His sensors raised, and he could see how the tunnels ahead of him twisted and descended. And he could see Nera's aura chasing him down. It pulsed like a beating heart, getting faster, bigger, wilder, closer. Closer. God, she was faster than him.

An intersection was coming up, and down the left he could sense another aura rushing right for him. He could sense it spike in alarm and pick up the pace. Riley reasoned he could make it to the other tunnel in time, although… He dropped his sensors.

"Grab him!" Nera ordered. Apparently she'd heard it too. "Just make sure you don't cut him!"

"Loud and clear!" a gruff voice shouted back. Riley rounded a turn and he could see the figure, illuminated only by the light from Nera's crown. A tall, bizarre-looking thing he could only distantly recognize as an Armaldo. And between them was the other tunnel. Riley watched as those strange protruding eyes widened, and it put everything it had into beating him there.

But Riley didn't veer off. Instead he jumped up to the side of the tunnel and kicked off with all his might. Before the Armaldo knew it, he soared right over his head, then stepped on his strange shoulders.

"Wha—"

"Out of my way!" Riley roared, placing a palm right between the shoulder blades. A blast of aura exploded on this thing's back, adding to its momentum and launching it down the tunnel. Nera herself was just too slow to react, receiving a glancing blow and being knocked against the wall. The impact carried Riley away, laying him out flat on his back, but he was ready. He scrambled up and continued running, and Nera's frustrated roar echoed through the tunnel as she gave chase.

The map flashed in Riley's head again. It was a convoluted mess, and trying to make sense of it seemed like a nightmare, but he had to try. That Armaldo had to have come from somewhere, so if he followed this path, it had to lead somewhere. And somewhere might have something. And something might be useful. If he could just remember… He raised his sensors again.

He saw an entrance outside with a sheer drop, and next to that was an alcove with a few books and a pile of coarse straw on the ground. And no other turn. And Nera was getting closer again.

Riley grit his teeth and tucked in his head, getting a running start for yet another leap. He reached starlight and open, freezing air. And as he did so, he saw the jet of lavender fire hovering some fifty feet away. The Golurk's body rotated and its hollowed arm aimed at him. He didn't even have time to hit the ground before the orb was back, and that great pale orange beam fired right for him.

He didn't think. His arm shot out behind him as aura moved to his paw, and he shot a Force Palm as hard as it could. It only pushed him an extra few feet, but that was just enough. He could feel the searing heat on his face, his legs, his everything. The beam continued on past him, through the canyon, and into the desert beyond. In the distance, a sand dune was scattered into a great cloud.

Riley hit the ground and somersaulted to regain his balance. He looked left and right and found a tunnel, but he couldn't take more than a step towards it. A blast of fire crashed into Riley's back, singeing his fur and knocking him prone. He let out a cry of pain as he rolled from side to side. He opened his eyes just in time to see Nera jumping right for him.

"This is senseless. Don't make me hurt you further," she called. Perhaps she was taunting him, but her tone was flat, and the look in her eye was deadly serious. In fact, it reminded him a lot of…

With the memory fresh in his head, Riley shot up and scooped his hand along the ground, and as Nera fell towards him he threw a streak of sand into her face. She shrieked and held her hands up, but it was a second too late. Her eyes squeezed shut and she grimaced in pain and irritation. She landed and tackled for Riley, but he ducked back and out of the way.

In the corner of his eye, he could see the Golurk charging up another one of those beams, and he could hear other cries of alarm coming from up north. The heavy steps of the Armaldo, a buzzing noise, the beating of wings… He had to get out.

"You—… Get back here!" Nera roared, swiping for him again. He could hear the sound of her hands flying through the air. Swallowing, Riley crouched under and ran for the nearest tunnel.

And it was down this one where he found his luck. A crude wooden door was haphazardly installed into the cave with a label painted on in simple black letters: Storage 3. His ears shot up. Riley came to a screeching halt to test the doorknob: unlocked. He swung the door open and shut it hastily behind him.

A dim glow from a luminescent plate on the ceiling showed a small supplies room. A shelf with half-empty burlap sacks lining its middle row sat on one end, and on the other were two open barrels that were stuffed with a myriad of Iron Thorns, each with varying states of rust. The barrels were too obvious of a place to hide behind, and getting inside there would be even more dangerous than it was noisy— a dead end.

But the burlap sacks promised something. They had writing on them, and as he pulled the faces taut to read them, he could hear the faint rustling inside, Riley gasped. Seeds. Blast Seeds, Heal Seeds, Violent Seeds, Stun Seeds. So many choices. How much could he take with him? If he grabbed that whole bag of Blast Seeds, could he—

Footsteps. Fast ones, too. Through the cracks in the wood he could see the glow of firelight just starting to approach. Riley held his breath and got to work; he had to be fast about this…

When the door flung open, Riley was ready. He stood in a defensive stance with a half-rusted Iron Thorn in a backwards grip. His fangs were brandished as he let out a low, bestial growl at Nera. She grimaced back at him. Her eyes were still red and squinted, but through a thin veil of tears she could see him clear as day.

"Back off," Riley hissed. "I'm not letting you stop me. Just try it." Though his anger was genuine, he used it well. He kept his jaw clenched shut. Otherwise, the handful of seeds under his tongue might fall out.

Nera's breathing slowed. She blinked and rubbed the tears away as she straightened her back, but she made sure to keep an eye on him. He was crafty, and he was cornered. The Stars only knew what he might have done.

"... You're serious about this," she noted dryly.

Riley suppressed the urge to spit on the floor for emphasis. "Damn right I am."

And for a moment, their standoff continued. Her face softened bit by bit. The grimace became a frown, then nothing but a melancholic curl as her eyes became thoughtful once again, like how they were back in her room. Riley wondered just what she was thinking.

But then came the sounds of more footsteps, and the glows of torches from further down the tunnel. Nera snapped to attention, and with a low sigh, she lunged for him.

Riley ducked and swiped defensively with his thorn, but Nera could read his movements. With her reach she chopped at his wrist. The boy cried out as his weapon fell from his hands, and he went for a retaliatory kick to her chest. It didn't even connect. Her other hand gripped him by the ankle, gentle but unyielding, and dragged him forward.

"Ngh! Let go!" he cried. It was difficult to keep his mouth closed, but he managed just barely, and he kicked again. Same effect. She grabbed his other ankle and flipped him over in the air. In one solid motion, she placed her knee in the small of his back and pinned him to the ground.

"Please," she whispered. "You won't be hurt further. You have my word."

Riley groaned and thrashed, but it was clear he wasn't getting out of this. Especially as the others got closer. Closing his eyes, the boy admitted defeat. But this time he didn't cry. He knew he had a way out of here.