Prologue:
The sky was bright and pale on the day her son left. Delia Ketchum watched him go, so full of hope and excitement for the journey ahead. So much like his father. Just as single-minded, too: he'd been in such a rush to get his first Pokemon, he didn't even change out of his pajamas. It was funny, knowing that this might be her last glimpse of him. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. For a long time, she sat in her living room in silence, watching her only child follow that small dirt path between their home and the rest of his life.
After he vanished behind a bend in the road, she found herself opening a hallway closet and dusting off an old shoebox. Inside, she found a yellowed photograph of two children playing with a machoke, and a young man anxiously looking on. She smiled fondly, and placed the box back where she found it. She drifted into the kitchen and began making dinner.
That's when it hit her: she was all alone. No child to feed, no husband to talk to, no Pokemon to train. Her house had never felt emptier. Knowing that she might never see her son again made it even worse. Her little boy had grown up in this house and was, even now, sprinting towards adulthood. Thinking about the years ahead, she became terrified.
It wasn't the journey that frightened her. The adventure he had embarked on was dangerous, yes, but it would be no trouble for him. Ash was strong, and she had faith in his skills as a trainer. It wasn't his enemies, even those out for blood, nor was it the Legendaries he would be forced to fight. These were nothing, a game crafted for a child. What made Delia's blood turn to ice was the knowledge she kept deep inside her heart, that only crept into her mind in the darkest hours of the night. She knew what was to come, and she hoped against hope that her son would never see the day it all came to pass.
Hell was on the horizon, and its approach was swift as lightning.