Chapter 54: Come Together
No matter how many times Nera looked at it, she was about to commit treason. And what surprised her more was that she was okay with it.
That morning had been the busiest Nera had been in a long time, and she was quickly finding how rusty she was with the bureaucratic side of her job. Getting the specifics for the incident report was a difficult task. She'd gone around and talked to Houndoom who had supposedly been guarding him. She'd examined the damaged bar to determine how it had been broken. She'd gotten the testimony from everyone else who had been on patrol, even though none of it really mattered, just because the form had said so. And of course, her own account of events was important, which she had taken great care to falsify.
Nera didn't quite know why she was doing this. It was dangerous, it was stupid, and she didn't know what she had to gain. She was investing into an uncertainty, and for what? For something she had thought she let go of ages ago.
As the ink finished drying, she held up the letter and read it one last time as the ink dried.
Something from an old friend of yours blew into my possession. I'm keeping it safe for now, but I would think you might want to have a look for yourself. It shines bright. If I hold onto it for long, it's only a matter of time before it is snuffed out. Be quick. This is not something I do lightly.
From the Crimson Spire
And briefly, Nera hesitated. If this letter was intercepted on its journey, if anyone other than Scizor read it…
No. Nera shook her head, sealing the letter and folding it away. She had a courier she trusted more than enough for this task. If she didn't do this, then someone from the capitol would eventually come, and she'd have to watch the boy die. She had to leave now.
It was just nearing midday when Nera emerged from the central spire. She squinted and raised the envelope over her eyes. A stale, scalding wind blew over the mesa. Even to her it was uncomfortable, but she could endure it.
Nera wondered for the thousandth time why she didn't have a tunnel that led to her central spire directly. Why would such a mundane request be shot down by the higher-ups time and time again?
She stepped off the canyon's edge and dug her palm and her heel into the wall as she slid, kicking up sparks and tiny flames. When she was halfway down, Nera leapt off and snatched onto one of the rope bridges between the tunnels, which swayed and bounced as the supports groaned in protest. Although once that settled, she could hear the sound of chatter down the far entrance. Nera supposed it was about that time anyways, which was good. She had skipped breakfast for all this paperwork.
Climbing through the cave and running her hands along the smoothed walls, guided by the light of her crown, Nera emerged into an open cavern on the mesa's edge. An open window let in bright sunlight, and thanks to the angles it was safe from most of the wind. There were three nicked, wooden tables, though only one held a small handful of Pokémon as they ate their meager lunches. Nera sniffed at the air. Some sort of rice and broth concoction, but Nera didn't see much else cooked in.
The conversations came to a brief stop as she entered, and all eyes flicked up to her. Armaldo, Houndoom, Sandslash and Swellow were all feasting together, and there were two empty seats left. Swellow and Sandslash seemed casual enough, though Nera could watch as the smile faded away from Houndoom and Armaldo dipped his head down.
"H-hey," Armaldo greeted, tapping his claws together. "Afternoon, Cap'n. I… was half-expecting you to be stuck in your room all day."
"Glad you can make it," agreed Swellow— No. Nera mentally corrected himself. He'd received a promotion a few weeks prior. Caius, she reminded herself. Caius turned over his wing towards another tunnel where steam and somewhat savory smells wafted in from. "Get another bowl ready! Captain's here!"
"On it!" a voice shouted back.
Nera nodded her approval, but when Caius looked back, she could practically see as the ease lifted off of him, and his brows raised but an inch.
"Captain?" he said, finally reading the room. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," she answered evenly. "But I need you to step over here with me for a moment. We need to get this letter sent yesterday, and we need your wings to go the distance. Are you done eating?"
The Swellow hesitated for only a moment. He looked to his captain, his bowl, then back to his captain. "I-I'll eat as fast as I can," he proclaimed, then pecked at the bowl and did just that. Nera regretted that they didn't have any napkins to spare.
Sandslash gave her a smirk as he clumsily held a spoon in front of him. "Oh c'mon," he said. "You're really doing all those procedures? I thought you hated that stuff."
Nera shrugged as she held her apathetic mask. "This one's serious business," she answered. "I'm following all the rules here."
A minute later, Caius finished and wiped his beak on his wing. He fluttered off his perch and over to Nera on the far side of the room, then stood perfect and straight with his eyes dead ahead. He always was one of the perfectionist ones, even if he was learning to relax a little.
Nera crouched down next to him and slid the letter into the satchel strapped around him, then forcibly latched the flap shut. She could feel the tension in his body increase tenfold as she leaned in further. "Do not react," she whispered. "I need you to deliver this letter to Scizor."
His neck craned and turned to look her dead-on. The warning had only been enough to stop him from squawking. "Scizor?" he whispered back. "The traitor? You can't be serious."
Nera nodded. "I am," she said. "From what I've gathered, Riley had met up with him before this. I don't know if he's going to be compliant, but he might know something. I want his insight if he's willing to offer any before we move forward. And once you have it, come right back to me. We might be onto something."
"But Captain, this is crazy. It's against—"
"Caius," she cut in, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "These are unusual circumstances. Scizor has met this boy before, and regardless of whether or not he's on our side, he's a fellow Pokémon. I'd like to think he would help here. I know this is again's protocol, but… Do you trust me?"
And just as she had watched his ease lift before, so too could she watch the process of his doubts flickering and dying, like a flame that ran out of air. Caius nodded. "I… I do," he answered.
"Then go," Nera said, louder this time. "Time is of the essence here. Fly."
"Right away!" he cried out. He saluted her with a wing, then turned and started to run. He flapped once and up to the great open window, where he pushed off and soared into the sky with the powerful flaps of his broad wings. Before she knew it, he was little more than a streak.
With the letter gone, Nera's shoulders felt physically lighter, and she let out a sigh of relief. The biggest part of this great farce was over with. Things were already in motion, and not even she could stop them. All she could do now was stay silent for no more than six days. And when it arrived back… Well, that would depend on Scizor's answer, wouldn't it?
Her only regret at the moment was Riley, bound and chained in a cell in the depths of the fort. He'd kicked and screamed and fought tooth and nail until he couldn't stand up anymore. The betrayal written on his face was obvious, yet it was for that exact reason why she couldn't say a word. Riley was idealistic. He saw something in Nera that, even now, she doubted was really there. If he knew what she was plotting, there was a very real chance he would tell somebody. She could not have that.
As she made her way over to the table, Sandslash made a shrill whistling sound. "Been a while since you've been all prim and proper," he observed. "Lemme guess: getting practice in for when the witness shows up?"
"Mm. Guess I am," Nera answered, pulling back a chair and taking a seat. "I'm debating whether or not we should bother cleaning up. Maybe let them see the state of the fort themselves."
Armaldo nodded, slowly starting to raise his head again. "Never did like cleaning this place," he said. "The dust never goes away no matter how hard you try. And I never minded the stuff anyways."
Nera nodded consideringly, imagining her commanders' reactions if they actually saw the state of this forgotten fort. And as she did, a distant low buzz reached her ears. Porus was likely returning from patrol right about now.
A Maractus shuffled in right about then, huffing and puffing as she held out a bowl of slop in front of her. A hand-carved spoon knocked against the side. She placed it down in front of the Infernape, snapped into a mock-salute, then shuffled back into the kitchen. For what, Nera didn't exactly know. Lunch should have been nearly over. It wasn't exactly important, however, and Nera took her spoon and had herself a taste. Creamy, vaguely savory, vaguely salty. It wasn't bad for little more than rice and broth.
"So." She flicked her gaze briefly up to Houndoom, then back to her food. "How're you holding up? Are you rested?"
"O-oh, well…" Houndoom tittered. She looked down to her bowl, realizing it had gone cold, and breathed a puff of flame into it. "I… I am. I'm just still nipping at myself for letting that happen last night. That's what happens when you lower your guard, isn't it? He just… looked so scared, you know? Shaking like that."
Sandslash scoffed. "'Scared,'" he echoed. "They don't get scared. They don't get nothin'. I hear," and he leaned forward with his elbow on the table, "that humans don't got any emotions. All they do is to blend in."
Houndoom frowned. "I… don't think that's true."
"Yeah," Armaldo chimed. "Didn't read that anywhere. Where'd you hear that?"
"Bah. Think about it." Sandslash jabbed at the air with a spoon that barely held in his claws. "They're born from death. They take away the soul. And they're all liars by nature. So it'd make sense that they don't feel nothin'."
Nera didn't say a word. It was a rumor heard by a friend who heard it from an infinite chain of friends. Nothing worth objecting to. She entertained the idea briefly, but something else caught her attention. The buzzing noise passed by again, closer this time.
And then the light green shape of a Flygon landed on the opening in the wall. Her wings folded back as Porus's chest heaved in and out. There was an urgent look about her that had Nera immediately on edge. "Quickly, where is— Captain!" she exclaimed, then snapped loosely to attention. "I-I couldn't find you in—"
"What is it?" Nera cut in. "You don't get rattled over nothing. Spit it out."
Houndoom frowned. "How fast did you fly to get here…?" she asked, looking over her dirt-covered scales.
"Yeah. You look like you just flew the whole patrol loop in an hour," Armaldo added. "Need some water? We got water."
Porus mostly ignored them. She straightened herself up and took a deep, shuddery breath to focus herself again. In… then out… and then she honed her gaze on Nera. "While I was out, I came across these two who said they were trying to pass through. I brought them here to be sure, but, Captain…" Porus swallowed. "Captain, I recognize these two."
Nera exhaled through her nostrils, letting out two twin streams of smoke. Just what she needed right now… "Then tell me," she ordered. "So we can sort this out quickly. We don't need anything else to deal with."
The Flygon swallowed. "They're… They're the human's friends, Captain."
Houndoom's jaw dropped open as she let out a choked gasp, and Armaldo's chair shot back as he stood up. The spoon fell from Sandslash's claws. And Nera herself hardly moved. She raised her brow for a silent second, then narrowed her eyes in a dim frustration. "What."
"From Astraean. They have the emblems of Gallade's Guild on their bag," she added hurriedly. "They didn't say anything out of line, but… Captain, this can't be a coincidence."
"... You're right." She glowered down at her bowl of hardly-touched gruel. It never tasted the same when she had to reheat it, but work never stopped, did it?
Nera stood up and tucked her seat in. "Leave that for me," she said. "I'll get it later. Porus, where are they? I'll meet you wherever they are."
"South entrance to the west canyon. They're with the Durant."
"On it. Sandslash, finish up as fast as you can and join whoever's guarding the prize until I say you can stop. Right now." And without waiting for an answer, she was off, sliding and running down the tunnels as fast as she could.
By the end of it Nera was practically in a full-gallop. The last report anyone had on Riley's status before this was two weeks old during the Festival of the Solstice, when he'd met up with the Carnival. And where Nera had read about his run-in with Lapis and assault on Pell. She must've read that whole article a dozen times by now, and not once did it mention his former compatriots on the scene. She hadn't gone out of her way to hear about them, but they hadn't popped up in the news either. As far as she knew, they didn't matter. They'd been unfortunate victims wrapped up in all this.
And yet here they were, brazenly knocking on her door like this. Not sneaking around during the night, not mounting some kind of attack, not teaming up with the thief, but innocently asking them for passage through the area not even a full day after Riley had been brought here. And here, of all places…
As Nera jumped out of the tunnel and rolled onto the sand, she was half-expecting them to not be there anymore, or to have never been there at all. And yet the mouth of the canyon held those very two visitors. In a large patch of shade, a yellowed, dried Roselia stood sipping from her canteen. She was careful and reserved and made sure not to waste too much, but Nera could see her color slowly creeping back in. It was clear how much she needed it. And a few paces away from her, the Charmeleon held his tail away as he casted sweeping glances across the face of the mesa.
Three of the Durant stared them down with varying degrees of curiosity. Two kept their distance from the Charmeleon and stared at him like he had a Blast Seed in his hands, while the other crept closer to the Roselia step by cautious step. His antennae twitched. His head cocked one way and then the other while she gave him a warding glare.
There was a fire to this girl that Nera liked almost immediately. And it was for that very reason why she was immediately certain that something was up.
"Hail," Nera bellowed, her pace slowing down as she adjusted her posture. The two visitors snapped their heads to her. The Charmeleon stood up straight, but the Roselia was slower to do so.
"Good morning," she greeted, then dipped her head.
"Morning," the Charmeleon said, then did the same.
A buzzing sound passed by overhead, and Porus looped around to one of the bridges just overhead. Nera nodded her approval. If she was as nervous as she was before, it was probably good that she was staying back. She'd never been great at hiding how she felt.
Nera stopped about five paces away from them, then stopped with her arms folded behind her back as she studied them. "My lieutenant tells me you want to pass through these parts," she said measuredly. "I'll admit, that confuses me. Especially…" She looked over to Rose, who didn't even flinch. "... Especially for someone who could easily get sick and even die this time of year."
"I have a Damp Rock," Rose answered, then raised her red flower. The petals unfolded to reveal a small riverstone with a blue sheen over it held in its core. "And I have Rawst Berries. A few fresh, and some preserved. That'll help with the heat."
Pyro nodded emphatically. "I wouldn't take her out here unless I was sure we had what we needed."
"How very cautious of you," Nera commended, though she retained her usual apathetic tone. "Although, I have to question why you would then decide to take this path. There are more traveled routes west by northwest that would be more hospitable than the open desert."
Pyro winced. "It's been… We've had enough of the main roads lately," he tittered.
"I'm tired of being spat on, ma'am," Rose deadpanned.
For a moment, Nera had thought it a poor joke, but the girl's expression showed no humor. Those dark, beady little eyes met Nera without a shred of weakness. For such a small, dainty thing, she had the fortitude a commander could only dream of.
"... You're serious?" Nera said at last, inquisitive yet gentle. "Why would they do that?"
Rose blinked. "... Because somebody fell into our lives a month and a half ago," she said, then let out a sigh. "And that's our fault somehow."
Nera put on a frown. Reading the girl only showed more exhaustion, more irritation, and no other changes. That by itself pushed Nera's thoughts in different ways, but in her peripheries, Nera could see her companion's reactions. His jaw tensed, his tailflame brightened. He looked down at a spot in the sand with a low intensity, deliberately looking for something that wasn't there. There was a clear tension in the desert that day.
If it were any other day, Nera would merely take note of that and be vigilant, but there was one major issue with that: Riley. These two were here within a day of when the boy had been brought to her. And she had no reason not to believe the thief wasn't in the area. This could be nothing more than a distraction…
And though she hid it, that was what frustrated Nera the most. They easily could be here to help Riley. And if they were, what would she do in response?
All of that had been in a few thoughtful seconds, and Nera opened her mouth to test the waters one last time. "Then he's caused you a lot of grief," she observed. "I can only imagine how you must feel about him now."
Rose started to speak, but she stopped herself. Her dark eyes fell to the desert floor as her petals contracted into a ball. For a short moment, her expression softened to something mournful, only for the girl to immediately bolster herself. She glared up at Nera with a smouldering anger. "Do you want the answer that'll grant us passage?" she asked through clenched teeth. "Or do you want to hear the truth?"
And then all was still. A scalding wind blew sand and dust into the air, howling like a beast far in the distance. Nera raised her brow, Porus muttered something, the Durant chittered, even her own compatriot blinked and looked over to her like she was insane, yet the girl didn't back down. Incredulous, Nera glanced back to her lieutenant on the bridge. Porus held her breath and clutched onto the rope railing.
"Because the truth is," Rose continued as she put her flowers on her hips, dragging Nera's attention back to her, "that he was an idiot. He was reckless and impulsive and gave me a few headaches. And he was just starting to realize it for himself when all this happened, and I miss him. The truth is that whatever happened to him isn't going to do a thing for getting rid of that psychopath that's still out there, and wherever Riley is, I pray he's doing well."
The Charmeleon stood a bit straighter. His maw parted as if he was about to speak, but his words caught in his throat. He shut his eyes and held his peace.
And that, as Nera stood stunned and unable to find her breath, told her everything. From the both of them. There was little room for doubt now.
"... Very well." Nera folded her arms behind her back and dipped her head respectfully. "I admire your honesty. You're everything I've come to expect from the folk of Astraean."
"Thank you," Rose replied, bowing her head regardless of whether it was a compliment or a veiled insult. Nera didn't quite know either.
Taking a breath, the captain turned around and looked to her lieutenant, though she was speaking to everyone. "This situation is a little bit unusual, but… I think I can grant you passage," she allowed. The Durant chittered again. Porus's eyes shrank further as the travelers sighed with relief, but Nera held up her hand, silencing them all. "But I still need to document this and go through proper procedures before I can send you on your way. It should take…" Nera hummed thoughtfully, drawing a number from her head. "Two days, depending on how fast things can move."
"Two days?" Pyro asked skeptically. Nera pictured him staring at her with a brow raised, and when she looked over her shoulder, he'd done just that. And his tail was burning just a bit brighter. "How long could it take to search our packs?"
Nera didn't flinch. "Gallade had his own strange procedures you didn't quite understand, right?" she asked, keeping herself as neutral as possible. "We have our own too. And I know the Crimson Spire isn't exactly comfortable, but we have guest rooms that are insulated from the weather. They have enough space and luxuries that you should be able to stay content."
"That isn't the problem!" Pyro exclaimed. "We shouldn't have to…"
Rose held out one of her flowers in front of Pyro, warding him back, He looked down to the tiny thorns and swallowed. She lowered it again and met the captain with the same fearless eyes as before. Indeed, Nera liked this one.
"Will you let us resupply on water when we leave?" she asked. Nera nodded— of course they would. "Then this is fine. Just be as quick as you can. We wouldn't want to stick in your fur any longer than necessary."
"I had no other intention," Nera answered, then gestured to a tunnel behind and to her left. Her gaze shifted over to the trio of Durant. "Would you mind escorting them to their room? I want to get started on this as soon as I can."
"Can do!"
"Sure thing."
"You got it."
And then there was a moment of tense, awkward silence as Rose refused to move or look away. She was trying to say… something, but she didn't know exactly what. Was the girl studying Nera in turn? Now wouldn't that be something…
But then they left, Rose with all the grace and elegance her kind was known for, and Pyro breathing smoke out his nostrils, with the Durant still flanking them. Nera remained in the canyon and watched the glow of the tail flame vanish into the mesa tunnels. The wind started to blow again, bringing with it a scalding, dry heat.
Her lieutenant's wings buzzed as Porus descended from the rope bridge, landing gently by Nera's side. The look of shock hadn't entirely gone away, and she stared at the tunnel like it had all been a mirage. "I… I don't get it," she said. "You're actually letting them linger in the fort? Wouldn't that be giving them time to enact their plan?"
"Perhaps," Nera allowed. "But we'll have soldiers posted to make sure they go nowhere unescorted. It will occupy some of our attention, but it also means peace of mind if we know where they are."
Her antennae drooped as she folded her claws together. "I... That might be, but, what if there's more of them?" she asked. "We still don't know if Festuum is in the area. He's supposed to be crafty, isn't he?"
Nera hummed. "I thought the same," she admitted, which was true. By habit alone she swept her gaze across the dozens of tunnels, across the top of the canyons, which she knew better than anything by now. Nothing seemed irregular. "... Which is why I'm not letting those two out with information right now. They might be doing some type of scouting, and they could tell that Festuum where they think the prisons are."
"But, could we not have just sent them back?" she asked. Her nerves were still on end, but she was starting to bolster herself. "Or escorted them by a wide berth of the mesa? They wouldn't have gotten anything useful from that first glimpse."
"I know what I'm doing." Nera gave her a skeptical side-eye. "Besides. This way, I might be able to figure out what's really going on."
Porus opened her mouth and raised a claw, but she suddenly tensed. There was a look of guilt about her, like she knew she was about to do something wrong, but she pushed herself forward anyways. "I… Captain?" she asked. "Are you sure you're not handling this differently because of who is involved?"
Nera bristled. Her crown of flames flared and danced wildly in the winds. Did she… No. No, she didn't know. It was a valid concern to have. But even still, that accusation stung.
She spat on the ground and turned away, dropping into a three-point stance. "I already know that I will have to oversee his fate," she answered in icy tones. "I am more than capable of handling this. Continue your patrol." And without waiting for an answer, flames compiled around her ankles and her wrist. Searing orange orbs formed at her soles and palm, erupting into great gouts of fire as she leapt off the ground, melting small patches of sand to glass. Nera clung to the canyon wall and slid down a short ways, slipping into one of the tunnels.
Nera wondered if Porus would continue to press. Lying to her wouldn't come easy, especially since she was still trying to figure out what to do herself, but Nera would have to. She waited with her ears perked, and yet when the buzzing began again, it was heading further away.
With a sigh of relief, Nera lowered her head. "These… These next few days are gonna be rough," she whispered. And for more than just her.
…
The trail ended without warning atop the sand dune, where it seemed to Mergo that the three had vanished into thin air. It had led them to an outcrop of rocky red stone that jutted out at odd angles, but they had been scouring that for almost ten minutes now, and they had no idea what path their quarry had taken.
"I don't understand." Mergo pivoted and glanced down the face of the dune. It was shielded from the winds, so it shouldn't have its tracks obscured, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. "You're confident they went this way, right?"
"I'd bet my life on it," Abby answered, then proceeded to stalk his way down the side of the dune and towards the outcrop of red stone jutting out at irregular angles. "Don't forget you're speaking to a Lordblade. If I wish to find somebody, they will be found."
"Then where are they?" Mergo stressed.
"Nearby." Abby pawed a rock over and sniffed at the underside. "We gained ground on them. They don't know I'm with you, so they probably think you're nowhere near the desert by now." Finding nothing, he stepped over it and stalked around one of the jagged stones, continuing his search. "I've done work in the area before. There's an oasis roughly forty-five miles from here. We could just head there, but I'd rather meet them on the way before they can regain their strength."
Stopping in a patch of shade, Mergo ran the numbers in his head. The endurance of his new body had been a nice surprise. He could walk all day and hardly feel the exhaustion until he laid down. At their current rate, they could likely finish that in two more days. Perhaps less if they rushed, but they could only do that during the night. The desert sun was not kind to either of them.
He exhaled. "We can't let them go any further beyond that. We don't have the resources to chase them for— nngh!" Mergo flinched and drew his hand away from the searing surface of the stone. He rubbed at his palm as if to wipe the pain away. "Right. Forgot..."
"Watch yourself," Abby called. Though Mergo couldn't see him, he could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "And yes, we can't let them get much further beyond that. We don't have the supplies to survive for long. Although, given the speed they're traveling at, they aren't carrying too much either… Mm. Though I wonder if the Ditto has a means to negate that."
Mergo bristled. He was getting used to the term, but he still didn't like what it meant. Constantly being reminded of an unknown was getting to him. One that could change its shape to avoid detection. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like Riley had divine interference. Whether he was being dragged along or being aided was up in the air.
He still didn't like to think about that. Even now it clouded his mind. Marching forward was easy, but thinking about what he aimed for slowed him down. Mergo clenched a fist, pressing his fingers into his scalded palm. He just couldn't stop himself from getting in his own way, could he?
"... Well, hello there," Abby cooed from a few stones away.
Mergo shook himself out of his trance and turned towards him. "What is it?"
"The trail," Abby answered. "Right here on the— oh." He didn't have the time to finish. Mergo clapped his hands together as a golden veil draped over him, and in the blink of an eye they were side by side. Abby snickered. "You know it's only fifteen paces, right? That wasn't necessary."
"Show me," Mergo ordered.
Abby rolled his eyes. "Merciful stars. You're so impatient, you know that?" he mock-sighed, then switched back to work. He pointed to a patch on part of the stone that was in the shade, smooth and low to the ground. "Right there."
Mergo frowned. He dropped to one knee and leaned closer, squinting. "... Right here?"
"Yes. Festuum was leaning right there." Abby swiped over a small part of the stone. "See? That part right there has a small sheen to it. His skin has a damp film on it, and that's what's left when it dries in this heat."
He raised a brow. "I don't…" Mergo got down on his hands and knees and leaned even further in. And yet no matter how much he looked, no matter how he strained his eyes, there was no sheen. He could see the smooth face of stone and how it could be inviting, and not a thing more.
Abby hummed. "I suppose you wouldn't," he noted. "His kind are quite evasive. Don't feel too bad." And with little else, he turned away, tracing his eyes along an invisible path on the sand. "Now, let's see where it picks up again…" He stalked forward.
Shaking his head, Mergo eyed the spot Festuum supposedly sat in and sat next to it, his legs crossed and his arms by his side. He tried to think like a Water-type would. Weary, exhausted, legs probably strained from travel. If he picked this patch of shade, it had probably been close to this time when Festuum had sat here. An overhang extended out to another stone about ten feet away, which gave a sizable spot for someone else to roost. Perhaps Riley, but it would be roomy.
If it were him, Mergo would have waited here until nightfall, when the desert would become a more tolerable type of miserable. Perhaps they were napping? No, that wouldn't make too much sense. The shade of the overhang would move, and one of them could wake up with a burn. Though perhaps not if it was Riley. Mergo didn't remember him complaining about the heat during their excursion to the desert. Perhaps he had lain just right there, on his side in that tiny little divot…
Something clicked in Mergo's head. The divot in the sand wasn't the only one around the outcrop, but it was right in the spot someone would be resting about this time. And it was a yard long— a head shorter than Riley's height. The wind would have blown anything on the surface away, but what if…
Mergo pushed himself up and walked on his knees to the divot. At first he raked his fingers in a slow, shallow, careful stroke, displacing the sand and sifting for a single strand of fur, but he quickly found himself moving faster, digging deeper. He threw sand up and into his telekinetic grasp to sift through later as he scooped and scooped and—
Fabric. The sand dropped as Mergo focused his efforts around his hands, creating a miniature whirlwind that unearthed whatever this was. The fine tan coat of dust blew off to reveal a dull green-gray canvas drawstring bag barely bigger than an Oran. Mergo's mouth hung open. He recognized this type of bag. It was a battle pouch from Gallade's Guild, meant to be fastened to the strap for quick emergency access. And it had something inside. Mergo unfastened the string and poured the contents into his palm.
Seeds. Three of them, each with an amber lacquer-like shine to them, and some lint. Any Explorer would recognize Reviver Seeds when they saw them, and Mergo was no exception. He remembered bundling these seeds himself.
"There's no way," Mergo whispered, tracing a finger over the worn fabric. "Hey… Abby! Abby, come here!"
Why would it be buried here? And why Reviver Seeds of all things? They were useless if they weren't being carried. And if they were potentially going towards perilous threats, those would be a more valuable commodity than anything short of food and water.
Maybe because Mergo gave it to him. Maybe…
Abby jumped out and came to an abrupt stop beside him, making sure to not disturb any potential tracks. He opened his mouth to form a question, but his eyes fell upon the bag, and it died unvoiced. His face twisted with confusion as he looked between that and the freshly-dug groove. "... It was buried?" he whispered.
"Right here," Mergo answered, frantic. "I dug because it was right in the shade and the divot was just barely bigger than he would be, and I found this." He held it closer for Abby to see. "I— I gave this to Riley back when we were in the Guild together. This was his. H-he was right here."
Abby's face scrunched up. "And it was… buried," he said again. "Cleanly, too, if I didn't see any sign of it. But why would they—…" Something clicked. Abby held his breath and looked at the ground again. Instead of going east, his eyes traveled north between the rocks, and he took a graceful, bounding leap forward. He sniffed at a smoothed, rounded stone that only stuck out maybe a half inch or so. "... Oh dear."
Mergo couldn't see his face, but the quiet sincerity was clear. He felt a pit in his chest. "What… What is it?" he demanded.
"They're heading to the north now, if this trail continues like this," Abby half-murmured.
The Gallade stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. "North? Why north? What's up that way?"
Abby let out a sigh. "I'll just… lay out what I know here. The tracks seemed to start spontaneously around here, but at the same time, there's still some about fifty yards away on that dune," he explained. "And at the same time, a very valuable item was buried, even though Festuum could still use it. In all likelihood, a localized sandstorm produced by a Pokémon swept through here. Perhaps more with it."
His eyes shrank as Mergo forgot to breathe. Now there were more Pokémon to consider as part of this? Sandstorm could prove to be a huge issue that could completely take away any trace of Riley further on. And whatever did this, was it here by coincidence? Or was it hunting him down too? But why would—
"The Crimson Spire!" Mergo blurted. Panic spiked in his mind. "Damn it. That's just north of here, isn't it?"
Abby hesitated. "... Northwest, yes," he whispered.
His breathing came back, shallow and quick. This wasn't Meluja anymore. They'd captured Riley, hadn't they? The seeds had fallen out of the bag in some kind of struggle. The Spire had him now, and they were going to kill him.
Mergo clenched his jaw and ran his hands up his face and into his hair. A string of partially-formed curses seeped out of his mouth as he alternated between looking hopelessly from the groove he'd dug to the distant north. He pulled one arm away, and a shivering violet light started to form, pulsing, flaring, stretching.
"Hey now," Abby called to him, raising a paw as if to somehow stop him. "I know. Right now he's—"
Mergo cocked his arm back as the light drew out into a long javelin that ended at a fine, needle-like point. He stomped a foot on the ground and hurled the psychic weapon forward with a furious, spirited "FUCK!" It crashed into the top of the tallest stone and exploded in a small nova of cold violet light. Cracks and fissures raced down as smoke blew into the air and large fragments rained down upon them. Abby shielded his face as a few came his way. Bits and pieces crumbled and fell below, and Mergo stood with his chest heaving.
Blinking, the hunter raised his head again to stare first at the destruction, then to its creator. His mouth was agape.
Another star of violet started to form in Mergo's hand. He'd come all this way for this, watched his own team turn away from him, nearly frozen to death, pushed on in spite of what felt like the whole world telling him to turn back, and even had his own rite of passage stolen from him along with one of his father's bracelets. All of that, across a thousand miles of forested foothills, frozen mountains, vast savannas and this blazing desert. And it meant nothing.
Abby was saying something, but Mergo didn't hear it. The star fizzled in his palm as he folded his hands together. He shut his eyes and started to recalibrate. He inhaled and counted the seconds. Two… three… four… five… six… Stop. Hold. Exhale… two… three… four… five… six… seven… Stop. Hold. Inhale.
His heartbeat lowered. The torrent of blood in his system calmed. Clarity trickled back to Mergo and his eyes opened once again. He turned towards the north, where Abby now sat on his rump and watched Mergo with cautious curiosity, then looked past him in the vague direction of the spire.
"I did not go through all of this just for both of us to fail," Mergo proclaimed. "We're getting him back ourselves if we must. I refuse to let go."
"... And how do you plan to do that?" Abby asked, almost accusingly. "For one, you're a very public figure, so this could cause a messy incident that could echo for some time. And for another, I know some of the Pokémon that work here. They've hired me for odd jobs. And while this is a penal post, there are still some Pokémon here you don't want to mess with."
Mergo clenched a fist. "This is true," he mused, reflecting on what little he knew of this place. The rank 'Captain' was not given all that lightly. Mergo was leagues and bounds stronger than he had ever been, but he wondered how well he would fare in a fight against one. And not to mention, she wouldn't be alone.
He hummed. A wind came in from the southwest, causing the dunes to shift. It blew at his back, whipping his hair to and fro as his bag struggled to lift itself. Strangely though, this one wasn't as scalding as the others.
Something sparked inside of him, and he turned to Abby with a certainty he hadn't felt for some time now. "I think I have a plan."
…
Time seemed not to exist inside the room for Pyro. No clock on the wall marked the minutes passing, no window showed the sky changing colors. They could hear no wind through the cave walls or echoing down the tunnel. Someone was supposedly standing guard, but even they were quiet. The world outside this glorified cell could have frozen in place, or just stopped existing entirely, and he wouldn't know.
It was objectively comfortable here. Luminescent plates in the ceiling gave a soft light about the room, even washing over Pyro's tail flame. There were four beds with a variety of different sheets folded up underneath. One had a waterproof sheen to it. Another Pyro recognized as woven from Rawst Leaves. A bookshelf on the adjacent wall had a row of old books just above a few boardgames that had seen better days. And there were two desks for possible work or art, one big and one small, and a round sitting table in the middle of the room. They even had a cask if they needed to quench their thirsts.
And yet he was restless as he sat against the far wall. Pyro's mind was a maelstrom, thought after thought after wild thought on an endless loop. He fiddled with his tail. His claw scratched, scratched, scratched at his spot on the floor, slowly carving a groove into the floor. He needed to distract himself.
He hated this room. The mere fact that they were locked up here was humiliating, only matched by the fact that they accepted it. It wasn't right. The little time he'd spent here had been suffocating as is.
He'd picked up the ladle and sipped at the water, but it tasted stale and earthy. Grains of sand caught on his teeth, and with a grimace he smacked his lips and dropped the ladle back. How could they have let it get this way in the first place? They weren't exactly honored guests, but was this not somewhere that important people might stay?
Pyro turned over his shoulder to glance at Rose, hoping she might know something about how this place might operate, but the moment he saw her, he froze up. She was laid on her stomach atop one of the beds with a non-fiction paperback out in front of her, which she'd been reading through at an agonizing rate. And for some reason a sight that would have been an invitation to relax not three weeks prior now filled him with dread.
It was as silent as the grave.
Lately it was impossible for Pyro to get a glimpse inside her head. She surrounded herself in a wall of thorns, warding off prying eyes. It was effective. Nobody in her path could simply push her around. Perhaps Nera would have turned them away if Rose had not used the sharp point of that wall. But for the first time, Pyro was outside of it. He'd had that single night on the heath when he'd caught a glimpse at what sat inside, and after that, there'd been nothing. He couldn't bring himself to climb again. After all, what if she—
Her gaze abruptly flicked over to him, dark eyes opening a hair wider. She straightened her back, blinked and looked away, blinked and looked once again. Pyro involuntarily flinched. The two stared at each other for a mere second that moved at a glacial crawl.
Her mouth started to open, then closed without a word and looked down at her book without truly seeing it. She shivered despite the room's stuffy warmth.
He parted his maw in an attempt to say something, say anything, yet he stopped himself. The moment he started talking, Pyro knew what he'd blurt out. He bit his lip and turned his attention to something else. Distractions, distractions…
Pyro picked up the leather-bound book next to him and opened it up again. It must have been his fifth attempt by now to start on… He glanced at the cover again. The War of the Violets, yes, of course. It was his fifth crack at trying to read it. He'd been somewhat curious about it, since the events of this book took place back when they began counting the seasons.
He was supposed to love history. Reading those kinds of books had been what let him learn of this world in as short a time as he had. They were supposed to inspire that sense of wonder in him again, emerging from a dark cave to see the expansive and beautiful world before him. It was supposed to make time flow on by until suddenly six hours passed by over the course of two-hundred pages. It was supposed to distract him.
And yet, just as with the other four attempts, he only got through a few passages about the High Prince surveying the battlefield-to-be with a cold, calculating eye before his mind started to wander again.
Why did it have to be so quiet?
For days on end of travel, as the land got flatter and hotter and Astraean grew further and further away, only reaching their ears through hushed whispers from the infrequent passersby, it had been quiet between them, but he didn't mind it as much then. There were Wildies to distract him, and there were winds rustling the leaves or the grass or the sand. There were clouds to watch, there were endless horizons to stare at wonder, and most importantly, there was a direction to point himself in. There was a hypothetical end-goal on the other side of his compass that took his attention, his energy, his focus.
And that end-goal took hers, too. They could cooperate on that. They would ask each other which way to go and help each other to overcome ridges or steep ravines, or finding a point to cross the river so he didn't have to go through the agony of having his tail flame submerged, and Pyro wouldn't have to remember the look on her face when he'd posed that question to her. They could be a team. They could be partners.
But this was a different kind of quiet. It was a deafening silence that was alive with the things unsaid. Every time he looked up to Rose, there was this tiny little voice beyond the range of his hearing. 'Does she care?' 'She said she would leave you if she had to.' 'Do you even know her?'
He needed to say something. There was a deep, burning need to say something, to fill the silence, to feel normal again, and yet every time he tried to form the words, they dissolved. He couldn't. He just couldn't. If he—
Rose's book clapped shut, and Pyro felt his heart try and jump out of his chest. She let out a small sigh and pushed it aside. The air felt heavy. He couldn't move.
"You… You have something on your mind." Her petals contracted into tight bulbs. "Ask it."
His mouth was stuffed with cotton. His blood ran cold— an eerie feeling for him. A voice in his head screamed to look back at her, to get this misery over with and just read the look on her face already. Something else gripped his skull and refused to let him.
"... I—" Pyro coughed. His voice was hoarse and shrill. An inner claw brushed, brushed against the book's inside cover. "I… I don't—"
"You've been avoiding something for a while," she interjected, raising her voice. Yet it was frail. She was never frail. Rose drew in a short breath, and Pyro heard a quiet tremor. "And… And so have I— for so long that I… don't know how to do this."
Fear. Panic. It was like the ground beneath him was about to give way. A small part of him was tempted to change the subject altogether. Pyro closed his book as he tried to steady himself.
"Rose?" Unsure of what to do with his claws now, they reached for his tail and pulled the flame close. Its heat against his chest was comfortable— a fleeting distraction. The flame was a dim yellow, shrinking, shrinking, letting its light be further washed over by the plates in the ceiling. With fleeting courage, Pyro steeled himself and held onto the last ember of will he could muster. "Are… Are we still friends?"
The sheets shifted. The pause was brief, but in it he could've sworn he heard the sound of heartbreak. "I… Yes." She swallowed. "Of course we… Is that the impression I've been giving?"
Pyro let out a sigh. There was a flood of relief, but it wasn't over yet. He continued to squeeze and relax on his tail, squeeze and relax. "I don't know," he answered. "It's just that it feels like we haven't talked to each other for… weeks. When Gallade died, and…" The flame started to rise. He couldn't stop himself if he tried. "And when Riley all but confessed what he was, I didn't know how to feel about it. I was… I was in shock, you know? And I think I was hurt. I didn't know if he'd been using me all that time. And yet, you seemed so certain that you had to find him. I didn't get it."
"Pyro, I—"
"And you even said you'd leave on your own if you had to," he added in a desperate bark. His voice had cracked. Squeeze and relax, squeeze and relax. It wasn't helping. He forced himself to raise his head. She was leaning forward, her breath held and her dark eyes holding a soft shimmer. "I… That hurt. You're all that I really have anymore, so the thought of you going off without me— it scares me, Rose. I don't want to lose you."
She winced. A shudder ran through her as Rose took a moment to steady herself. "I— I didn't… I'm sorry. Truly. When I weighed it over in my head, I knew you could take care of yourself, but Riley…" She fidgeted in place. "I mean, you've had to put up with him too. If he's out there by himself, he'd just get himself killed or worse. I needed to go to keep him safe."
"And because you're just like him, too," he murmured.
Silence. Pyro watched as the very spirit drained out from the girl across from him. She started to say something, yet her head fell in defeat. "Yeah," she whispered. "That… That too." With a shake of her head, Rose let out a silent sigh and turned over, staring past the ceiling to the heavens above. "I… I'm sorry. Gallade told me to keep it quiet or I might die, and I listened. He put the fear of… well, the fear of Arceus into me." She paused as if to laugh, but only let out a thoughtful hum. "... And yet, I… I don't think I can just blame him. Even before he sat me down, I was lying."
Slowly, Pyro nodded. "You never mentioned your friends or family unprompted." Squeeze and relax, squeeze and relax. His tail was burning steadier now, yet he didn't know what he felt at the moment, or what to think.
"It… I think it was instinct," she continued. "I remember thinking that, above all else, I didn't want to be seen as an anomaly. Even when I first woke up. I was freezing and dying, and there you were, and…" A shiver she failed to suppress ran up her spine. "A-and I thought that if I told someone the truth, I'd end up alone. Or worse."
His blood turned to ice as he bit down on his lip. "I-I want to say it's okay," he said. "I want to say that I get it, th-that I understand, but— but I just don't." Pyro swallowed. His breathing was starting to get shallow, and he made conscious efforts to keep himself calm. "I feel used. And I… Rose, how much of that was even really you? Did I ever know you?"
"Of— of course." She held a flower over her chest. That regal guard of hers was back, only it didn't feel like a front. The desperation beyond it was clear. "I wasn't only using you as some kind of cover. I enjoyed the time we've spent together. And…" Her gaze fell back a ways. "I don't know what my word means anymore, but I promise you I mean that."
'Promise,' Pyro mouthed. He didn't know how much weight that held either. That, he figured, was the worst part about all this: he was still listening. Despite how lost he felt, despite his resentment towards the two for excluding him, despite his whole world having crumbled, Pyro couldn't bring himself to just let her go. He still believed her. Even though they were liars by nature, he wanted to trust her, and so he would.
"... Can you answer me one thing, then?" Pyro asked.
Rose swallowed, then nodded.
"You'd said you would make up your mind when you found him, but… What will you really do?" He tucked his knees into his belly and wrapped his arms around them, his tail falling soft onto the floor. "Are you gonna go… back? To wherever you came from?"
She started to say something, yet nothing but air came out. Rose bit down as her flowers started to shake again. "I…" They tightened into bulbs as she screwed her eyes shut. "I… I remember that I wanted to before, but… I don't know anymore," she answered. "Remind me one day to talk to you about that in detail. It's not important enough to go into right now, but you deserve to know about how it was getting used to all this. For now though? I… I just want to know why I'm here in the first place."
"And… And after that… could…" Pyro trailed off. He saw a clear path ahead of them. If they left this place and went elsewhere, they could live a peaceful life together once things had settled down. It even lined up with what they'd told everyone who stopped them on the way. He would help to conceal her secret and the two would go off to one of the major cities to disappear while Riley sorted out his own mess, and five summers from now, they would have whole new lives together.
Yet he also saw that it wouldn't happen if it meant abandoning someone who dared to have faith in them. He'd struggle to forget it, and Rose never would. Even thinking about it made him feel sick.
Pyro was trying to think of something else to say, something to put them both a little at ease or even just muster a smile, but there was a noise from the other side of the room. The doorknob twisted and the door creaked open an inch, letting in the darkness from the tunnel beyond. All was still. Pyro held his breath and looked over to Rose, who was doing much the same. Had someone heard them? They were being quiet, but if someone had trained ears, maybe they caught just the right word…
But then something… spoke? It sounded like a voice of sorts, but it wasn't natural, and it sure as hell wasn't comprehensible. The best comparison he could pull from were the strange attempts some Pokémon had made to verbalize a Beheeyem's light signals. It was eerie. Appalled, Pyro furrowed his brow and tried his best to rationalize it, and yet Rose was still breathless. Her dark eyes seemed to glimmer as she stared like she had just seen a spirit. And then she actually answered it.
"Y-yes, that's us," Rose practically whimpered. "How can you…?"
Pyro blinked. "Did… Did I not hear that right?" he asked, then scratched at his ear holes. There was no way that could have been speech, could it?
The door creaked open another foot and then shut, and in slinked a tall, lanky figure wearing a brown cloak. His skin was dark blue save for a creamish-colored underbelly, and his eyes were a faded pink like a cherry blossom. Pyro and Rose gasped in unison. With his face plastered all over the news for the past while, it was impossible not to recognize him. But what was he doing here?
"No fuckin' way," Festuum whispered. His mouth hung ajar, and he let out the beginnings of a laugh as he just started to smirk. "I'll be damned. Must've gotten someone else's good luck by mistake. That or I was just overdue."
Pyro shot to his feet in some defensive reflex, but he couldn't move beyond that. He barely knew what the hell to think less than thirty seconds ago, and now this? And of all the times, why now?
"I… I was thinking the same," Rose answered, hushed. Her eyes flashed as her mind went to work. "Nobody saw you, did they?"
He shook his head. "Snuck in and tossed a Sleep Seed down your guard's throat," Festuum answered. "She looked tired. She'll probably think she passed out for a minute."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Good, good. That at least means—"
"Why are you here?" Pyro cut in, harsh despite his quiet tones. He felt his claws rasp as he sized the Greninja up. The last thing he needed now was someone else to come between them. "And what was that noise you made?"
And just that quickly, the smirk went away again. Festuum looked down and away, then over to Rose, then back to Pyro. It was subtle, but there was a level of sobriety that wasn't there before, and it only grew as Festuum marched over to the far wall and leaned against it so he could watch them both.
"I'm on a journey," Festuum answered. "You might be able to guess what I'm doing. Maybe I can explain more later, but for now, I want you to relax. I'm not here for you. And if you want I can leave here without saying a word to anyone. Since you haven't screamed for help, I'm assuming you'd do the same."
"I'm not in the mood to have you evading questions," Pyro hissed, brandishing his teeth as he started to pace around the small room. "If you're not here for her, then why even come here? Just to— just to taunt?"
Festuum frowned and held out his hands. "Easy, easy. This isn't the kind of place to be having that talk, okay?" he said. "And even if it was, Riley told me not to say anything."
Pyro threw up his arms. "Of course he did," he grumbled. They all wanted to keep themselves in the dark, away from him in their own little world. Was it any surprise that—
"Don't misunderstand," Festuum cut in. His eyes were narrow and sharp and pinned Pyro in place. "He said not to involve you because he figured you were better off without him."
Rose blinked. "Wh… What? But he sent us a note," she said, undoing the flap on her bag and rifling through. "Was that not a cry for help?"
"Things happened," Festuum answered, two vague words holding an immense gravity to them. "He changed his mind."
For a moment he stopped breathing. Pyro furrowed his brow and started pacing back and forth again. Not wanting their help anymore? That didn't make any sense. He felt a spark of annoyance in the back of his mind. If it was just Pyro he'd understand, but both of them? When Rose was a human just like him? Why would he…
The two of them were only on the outside of this maelstrom. How bad was it at the center? What happened in the last two weeks since that letter was sent?
He wondered if Rose was thinking the same, and a glance in her direction showed her face scrunched up in contemplation. She bit her lip and looked from one side of the bed to the other, her petals stretching open before curling back into their usual state. She seemed… torn, he thought, but he wasn't sure if anything he had known about her was right anymore.
A dry chuckle interrupted his thoughts, and Pyro looked up to see Festuum staring off at and past the door. "But then again, this is nothing short of a stroke of fate. And while I agree that we shouldn't involve anyone who doesn't need to be, if I heard you earlier, then you have every right to be involved as you want to be."
Pyro braced himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, though part of him thought he knew the answer already.
"I'm saying that I have a friend too. And if he made a decision like that for me without even asking, I'd track him down and kick his ass." Festuum snorted and shook his head. His tongue made a strange click. "But that's your call to make in the end. Just make sure your choice."
And out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Rose wince and shut her eyes— confirmation to his paranoid mind that she was thinking the same. And he'd be damned if that seed hadn't been planted inside him as well. For as much as he wanted to forego all this and return to a normal life, he also couldn't help but worry about whatever that had to be putting Riley through. Riley was even younger than he was. He couldn't take on the world by himself.
But even worse was Rose. She had to know what he wanted, and if he stuck to that path, she'd have to make a choice with no right answer, a choice she would regret no matter what. And despite everything, could he force her to do that?
Festuum just started to step away and towards the door again when Pyro gritted his teeth and kicked the book against the wall spine-first. Under his breath he cursed himself for being such a tool. Rose sucked in a breath and turned towards him. Festuum looked over his shoulder. And for a moment, the world went still as Pyro balled his claws into fists.
"... Riley's in trouble," he said. "And he's probably close. I'll… I'll help him."
Rose blinked. She raised her head, slow, careful, and held one of her flowers in his direction. "You… You don't have to—"
"Well I'm going to," he cut in, harsher than he'd meant to. Pyro sucked in a breath and looked down at himself. He felt like such a tool. "I'm… I'm going to. But the first moment I can, I want to talk to him. Alone."
Even he felt the impact of that single word, like the vacuous hiss and sizzle of a Blast Seed's shell splitting open. 'Alone.' Festuum raised a brow and stared him dead-on. Rose held her breath. Pyro swallowed yet held his ground. He knew that if he was going to make any of this work, he had to set something straight.
The tension broke when Festuum let out a sigh, then followed it up with a quiet laugh. "I can't promise that. It's not my place," he answered, shifting his weight onto one leg and crossing his arms. "You gonna risk it all anyways?"
Smoke plumed from his nostrils as he met the challenge without flinching. It was the option he'd regret the least, and if there was one thing he knew about Riley, it was that he'd never run away. The two would talk.
Rose, stunned, drooped her head and fidgeted in place. She looked away and took a deep breath before finally meeting Pyro's gaze again. "Thank you," Rose whispered. "I'll never forget this." She was still so frail, so quiet, so…
"Right." Festuum glanced back to the door before slithering in closer. "I gotta be quick about this, so I'll need you to listen close. When the sun goes down, we're running a synchronized strike in order to…"
…
Sand flew into the wind she generated as the Lucario sped into the desert. Fatigue had caught up with her earlier in the day, and she'd collapsed on the edge of the savanna, but now her energy was back in spades to match her will. Through rays of orange light from the evening sun peeking through dark clouds, she rushed from one golden dune to the next with a purpose.
A flash of light. Seconds later, a gentle rumble of thunder. The air was cool.
She opened her paw where she still clutched that tuft of her son's fur. Blue sparks danced and whirled around it, cradling it, using it as a conduit. It tugged forward and to the left, and she adjusted her heading accordingly.
Her fears were realized. It had been a very long time, but she knew this part of the desert well, and she knew who watched over it. It had been a very long time since they had made their stances clear. And if her son was here in the clutches of the desert kingdom, and they would kill him in one of the most painful ways imaginable…
"Nera," Lucario whispered— a name from another life. Another flash, another rumble.
She surged forward and surged forward with a trail of sparks and light behind her. Where she touched the sand her paws left behind a melted glass pawprint. The rays of sun shrank and faded away, and all was dim around her. There would be no stopping the storm.