"Who the HFIL are you?" the pirate spat, gripping the boy's neck tight.
Ryan side-armed his Poké Ball into the man's fivehead. He thought it would be Thurnax in that ball, but alas, it was only his cream-colored Shenlong, his favorite Pokémon that he had never used to battle with before. Now's a good a time as any, he thought sourly.
Now, Ryan had never used Shenlong before in combat, as nobody should ever use a Magikarp. But everyone wants to be cooler than everyone else, and admitting you made a mistake taking out Shenlong instead of Thurnax is beyond the aesthetic sensibilities of even a moderate swagboy. It's much easier to roll with the tide and become a gravy robber when you grow up instead of trying to formulate your own gravy recipe, which could take hours if not several more hours to come up with on your own.
"Splash him, Shenlong! Splash him up real good!"
For a moment, the crusty old pirate with the curly brown beard just stood there staring at him like he was a bloody stool. Katagiri cried out, jumping from Ryan's shoulder and running down the side of the ship, riding a cloud of bubbles. Well, that's just sucks. He could've at least made his escape nimbus big enough for the both of us. But it was probably true that any such Pokécraft would not be able to sustain him whatsoever, bless his pure and innocent soul.
"Carp, carp, carp!" Shenlong sputtered, and a few drops of water went flying onto the man's face. Surely he had never been humiliated in such a way before. This is only halfway, man.
The Painted Dragon, having already let go of Ryan when the Poké Ball had hit him in the head, now stumbled back even further, not wanting to get water in his eyes. The boy could empathize, but that still didn't make him a good person. "Magikarp are the most common Pokémon we find in our trawling. But a shiny one like that… those are worth more than ten thousand regulars! Stand back, kid. That fishy fishy's mine!"
"Shenlong, save yourself!"
"Carp carp!" Another Splash resulted in angering the old salty seadog just a little bit more, but nothing else seemed to happen. It was as if the move had no effect! That's preposterous. How could Shenlong know a move that doesn't do any damage? That's unheard of, uncalled for, and entirely unavoidable! What does he actually know if it doesn't do anything?
Instead of going for Shenlong, though, the man ran for Ryan, grabbing the bag that contained all of his Poké Balls, Lil Dex, and all of his potions, items, and other unmentionable goodies. The boy cried out, trying to pull it back, but the man was so much stronger than him, and in a breath, he had thrown Ryan's bag into the sheltered bridge where the other Painted Dragon was doubtless whistling to himself about his blissful, utopian life on the open seas, ever bereft of the company of a good (or no good) sea woman (or people-looking Pokémon–pirates can't be choosers).
The boy's blood ran cold. Now it's on. Nobody steals my Pokémon. "Alright, Shenlong, we're gonna shake and bake!"
"Carp, Magikarp!"
He snatched up his Shenlong before the man could grab him, and in that moment, the skies grew dark. Silence befell the fishing boat, as Ryan and the Painted Dragon both looked out over the water to see what had changed. Amongst the fleet of Painted Dragons, a purveying fog of quietude grew more and more eerie. Then came the screeching of twisting metal, the wild rush of seawater, the interspersed hysteria of screaming men, many of them deciding to jump overboard rather than face the approaching tempest, breaking through the silence like icy punches to throat.
Alex. Goosebumps spread across his body. Tsunami the Gyarados let out a blood-curdling cry as he smashed into the most advanced of Lieutenant Miyazaki's fleet. Gyarados beats boat. Gyarados beats all these jabronis. One after another, each of the Painted Dragons' ships succumbed to Alex's serpentine dragon who was not really a dragon, but let's be real here, there ain't no place for hot jive in Ryan's thick and empty skull cavity.
A few wished to fight back with their Pokémon, but there was no time to fight back. Tsunami rammed into each boat with a Waterfall attack, and all the pirates and bad Pokémon went flying over the railing into the ocean, and each boat sank one after another. It was beautiful and aesthetically pleasing to anyone with even an adolescent sense of justice.
It only took about three minutes before half of the fleet was gone; it only took another before the pirate who had taken Ryan's bag was shouting into the room, "Go on, then! He's coming right for us, Shankers! Get us outta here!"
"But where? Are we gonna abandon the Lieutenant? He's going to be so mad, a–"
"You heard me, Shankers! Take us back to the Isle of Flies, alright? Do I have to spell everything out to you, you noseless Slowbro?!"
It was marvelous to watch each ship fall one after another. All the destruction roused in Ryan a primordial and deep-seated lust for the total collapse of all coherency and rationality. Some, like the one Ryan was on, had moved so far away from One Island, that they were still safe, but they wouldn't be for long. Even now, they were fleeing, but he didn't know if they could all outspeed Alex's Gyarados.
This was cause for celebration; Ryan grabbed Shenlong by the tail, ran at the tall bearded pirate, and whacked him hard in the back of the head with his Magikarp, and watched the man go flying over the edge.
The second pirate had not noticed, and instead was guiding their ship off to the Isle of Flies, an island Ryan had not seen on the map of the Sevii Islands he had studied for five or six seconds before deciding to come down here for their post-Indigo League vacation. This must be their secret base. I bet Officer Jenny'd like to know all about it.
Again, a sense of pride welled in the boy's chest. He was going to solve this mystery of the Painted Dragons and what they were doing down here in Sevii. One Island and Mount Ember grew distant on the horizon; most of the ships fell away and were lost; only a small fleet of five or six of them had managed to get away in time.
He probably should have retrieved his bag already, but he didn't want the other pirate to know he was still there. Either way, a few minutes later, as they broke clear of the Sevii archipelago, Ryan heard someone walk up behind him.
Thinking it was the other pirate, he swung Magikarp wildly at it, turning around, only to be met by a rather sour-looking Blastoise. The ugly bloke didn't seem to like getting fish-slapped like that.
"Blastoise!" it roared with a bloviating tone that Ryan felt was quite uncalled for, given the circumstances.
There came Katagiri around the starboard side, chirped wildly. What's got him so distressed?
"Oh, sorry about that," the boy said quickly. "I didn't mean to hit you in th–"
"Stoise!" The beast growled, unloading one of its cannons into Ryan's face. He barely felt like he was flying back, flying off the ship. It didn't even really feel like he was moving, just getting blasted in the face by a lot of water. It was as if the rest of the world was leaving him, not the other way around, and it hurt a lot. He tried to scream, but his mouth filled up with water, and he remembered no more.
"Ooh, come on, Jesse, I've had enough!" Dad complained. The trembling in his voice was unseemly.
"Snap out of it, James, we're almost done!" Her voice was thin and threatening, like an Arcanine backed into a corner. "So, dear," she said in a much more pleasant voice to Jessica, "how much longer are we going to be looking through this miserable old musty place? It's getting late, wouldn't you agree?"
"Until we find Mewtwo."
Her father's voice was shaking. "Mewtwo! Mewtwo! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
Her mother hit him on the back of the head. "Not like that, you idiot! We'll just scare him away!"
Jessica bit her lip. For the most part, she had learned to drown out her parents' bickering with her thoughts, but that was harder to do when their voices were echoing through the ruins like this. Why do they have to be like this? I would get a headache if I acted like they did.
The Tanoby Ruins were totally abandoned. There weren't even any Unown as there had been in years past. Neither Pokémon nor humans made their homes in these ancient, crumbling rocky enclosures that appeared more like lazy attempts at making bush mazes than the last markers of a long-forgotten civilization.
Yet, all three of them became quiet at once when they heard the footsteps of someone approaching them from the entrance. Jessica's hand found her Poké Ball. She was ready… so very ready. Giovanni's notes indicated that one of the Mewtwos who broke free was lairing down here only a few years ago. Where else could it have gone?
At that moment, a man in a brightly-colored buttoned up shirt painted liberally with tropical flowers came running into view. "Hi, I'm Ninoooooooo!" he said proudly, looking up to the cave ceiling, pointing off vaguely in their direction, and thrusting his chest out like a real man's man. Oh, great. This is exactly why I left Gilly behind…
"Hi there," her father said. "Have you happened to see any wild Mewtwo anywhere? Preferably nearer the exit d-door…"
"I don't know anything about that, but come here, look at all these pictures I took of me being boss," Nino said proudly, ushering them over. "Look, here's a picture of me cleaning up the dock, and here's another one of me cleaning up the boat, and here's another one of me polishing the anchor!"
"Why are you showing us this?" Jessica asked.
"Because, as a trusted member of the Painted Dragons–one day I'll become an Admin for sure!–I can show you three lovely tourists that we spare no expense! Please, if you have the time, call my Regional Underboss right now so you can put in a good word for me, and…"
"Gengar, shut him up right now," Jessica seethed, releasing her most powerful Pokémon in a flash of purple light.
Nino the Painted Dragon froze, staring at the Gengar as one would a particularly poorly painted painting in a museum of all places. You belong in the ocean, if anywhere.
"N-now, now, you're a horrible rotten charlatan, and I'm just giving you as good as you get, well, how about that?" Nino shouted. "No need to get all angry, okay? Let's walk this off, okay? We're all gentlemen here–and gentlewomen, heh, don't let me forget!"
He was a bald man, an old man, a man smiling from the chopping block. And he's a Painted Dragon… the worst kind of man of all. "Goodbye, Nino," she said. "If you can swim, tell your Admin that Jessica of Team Rocket put you in your place, alright?"
"W-wait, how do I spell that?"
"Hex him, Gengar!"'
In the next moment, Nino was gone, and they were, mercifully, alone again. She returned her Gengar, turning to her parents. "This is the last set of Tanoby Ruins, and so far, there's been no sign of Mewtwo. Maybe Giovanni's records were incomplete… or maybe he just didn't have a clue."
"Eek, did you see how far that guy flew?!" her father yelled. "That brings back old memories, doesn't it, Jessie?!"
"Quiet, James!"
"But Jessie, I'm hungry! It's almost lunch time, and we haven't even found Mewtwo yet. I'm about to be famished, I can just tell! It's been nearly thirty minutes since second breakfast, and I'm not sure I'll be able to cope for much longer!"
The three of them walked to the entrance of the Tanoby Ruins, looking out over the water to the shore of Seven Island beyond. They might've driven him out… it's just a question of where he went. Regardless, these Painted Dragons are becoming a thorn in my side. I need to deal with them as Giovanni would have.
"Father, Mother, there's a Painted Dragon Base just ahead. They control the port at the southern tip of Seven Island. We're going to smash them, cripple them, and then continue our search. Do you have any questions?"
"Yeah, what's for lunch?" her father asked.
If I were Mewtwo and the Painted Dragons invaded my solitude, where would I go? Seven Island was a vast and undeveloped island with a minimal population. They had passed the Painted Dragons' base on the way here, and had not dealt with it simply to focus on finding Mewtwo first. But now that it appeared people like Nino were going through the ruins… it seemed likely they had already scoured this place for its Unowns as well. Mewtwo would be long gone.
"I'm sure they have plenty of food back at the port, James. We can get something after we clear out all those miserable ruffians!"
They've spread to Six Island and One Island and Five Island, but they haven't reached Two Island, Three Island, or Four Island yet. If I can prevent their spread and cripple them, their operations in Kanto will likewise never return to previous levels. I must do this for the future of Team Rocket.
Her parents were bickering about the cost of Magikarp meat; the wind was picking up again, out over the shore. A storm was coming in. She would have to move quickly.
"Nice Gyarados," Logan greeted him from the shore, an empty bottle of MooMoo Milk clutched in his hand.
"Nice of you to finally show up," Alex replied coldly.
"Hey, I was busy…! So what's up? Where's Ryan and Rahul?"
"The big man's gone."
"Gone?"
"That's right."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you have trouble hearing, Logan?"
The blue-eyed boy scowled. "Can't you just tell me where he went?"
"I have no idea."
"Great. Where's Ryan?"
Alex shrugged. "He may put up with your nonsense, but I'm not going to."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means if I hear one mention of your Clefairy Cult, I'll leave you behind."
"That's some cold lotion, Alex."
But Alex didn't really care, and he kind of shrugged a little bit to make himself look a little less harsh, but all the same, he despised Logan, and if there was one thing Alex was poor at doing, it was hiding contempt for people who really deserved it. "There's a Painted Dragon operation going on right now at Mount Ember. You going to help me stop it or what?"
Logan looked wounded, as if he had been shot in the spleen by a crossbow. "What…? Right now? Today?"
"That's right."
"Alright, but you owe me bigtime!"
"I don't owe you anything," Alex responded. "You going to surf over there on your Squirtle again?"
"W-well… I'll have you know, Murr's a brilliant swimmer!"
"You can jump on Tsunami if you want," Alex said. "And you won't even owe me anything in return."
"Preposterous. There's always a cost!"
Alex jumped back onto Tsunami's back. "Of course there is. Maybe if you weren't so self-absorbed with your cookies and your Clefairy godmother–"
"That's my Granddaddy Clefable to you, sir!"
"Oh, okay."
"You're mocking me, aren't you Alex?"
"Are you getting on, or what? We don't have much time."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll leave you behind and you won't get to tell Ryan about how brave and helpful you were when he comes back."
"He's coming back?"
"He said he would. Don't you believe him?"
"No, I don't believe a word that guy says."
Alex shook his head. "Stop wasting time and get on. We have to stop Lieutenant Miyazaki from finding and capturing the Moltres living at the peak of Mount Ember. There's bound to be a lot of Painted Dragons between us and the peak, though. So you better be prepared."
"But what if I'm not, Alex?"
"That's not my problem."
Tsunami growled impatiently. Logan quivered like a Mareep. Alex gave him a look, and the other boy jumped onto Tsunami's back, just like that. How easily he been cowed into obedience. It was pathetic–almost as pathetic as anyone who didn't consider Pokémon Melee to be the greatest game of all time (luckily Logan wasn't stupid enough to get Alex off on a rant about Poké Sm4sh, and to that end, he was at least better than Ryan (but who wasn't, really?)).
The Gyarados roared, and the skies blackened. They cut through the water in silence, and it was now apparent, even to young children of ignorance like Logan, that the flames shooting up from the peak of Mount Ember were not in fact a natural occurrence. One after another, the spires of flames shot up in jagged lines, as if they were being shot at something–or someone–in grim reprisal. The sky cracked with lightning, and Alex could feel in the air that the growing storm was not Tsunami's doing after all.
There was a bit of sand in his hair, and slightly more in his mouth, and perhaps more than a few grains in his left ear. Blinking himself awake, Ryan glanced around to find himself on a deserted beach, neither ships nor Gyarados in sight.
What small consolation he did have was Shenlong sputtering in a pool of salt water disconnected from the gushing ocean waves, just a little further inland. There was only one Poké Ball in the boy's pocket, and he used it to mercifully return his Magikarp to some small measure of comfort. His other Pokémon, along with the rest of the contents of his backpack, were still on that fishing boat… assuming it was still afloat. And if not, what then?
It was pointless getting scared now. He had to find a way home, first, and before that… "Katagiri!" His hoarse voice broke in the heat, and there was no response. "Katagiri! Where are you?!"
A bold-faced Pelipper landed on a rock not so far away, eyeing Ryan hungrily. I wonder how many people wash up on this shore just to be torn apart by the native, starving population of ugly 'mons. Well, Ryan didn't even know where he was, but it didn't look familiar, so he hated it. If this was one of the Sevii Islands, there would at least be a port in view, or a derelict shack. This place appeared entirely untamed.
That's not to say there was nothing on the shore. Trash littered the beach: broken bits of plastic, used potions, rusty Poké Balls. Well, not all of them were rusty, as Ryan soon found. He pocketed two Poké Balls and a Luxury Ball that all looked to be in rather fair condition, albeit full of sand. Spilling their contents out, he approached the rock the Pelipper was perched upon.
I bet he wants to peck out my eyes when I'm not looking. What a coward. Why didn't he try already?
The bird squawked uncertainly as he approached. Something glimmered in the sand, just beneath the waterline. He scooped it up, realizing at once that the pink stone was polished smooth, semi-translucent and perfectly round. It reminded him of that stone Lance had given him for Thurnax. A Mega Stone… but for which Pokémon?
Now the Pelipper was flapping its wings and crying out loudly. That just wouldn't do. "Don't be disrespectful!" Ryan scolded it. "You be quiet! I'm the Indigo League Champion! How dare you speak to me in that tone!"
The beast took to flight and tried to ram into him with its beak. Diving out of the way, Ryan took out Shenlong's Poké Ball again and threw it into the sand. "Come on, Shenlong, do something! You have to have an attack!"
"Carp, carp!"
Of all the Pokémon in the world…
"Pelipper!" the Water Bird Pokémon screamed menacingly. It was a real scary bird call, one that could render even Lunar Magikarp impotent.
Shenlong froze as the audacious bird came roaring at it. It clutched Magikarp in its gigantic mouth (probably because it didn't have any feet for some reason) and tried to take off with it, as if Shenlong was nothing more than its next meal.
"Hey, get back here you horrible, rotten, no good Pokémon I can't even find one of in Kanto!" Ryan shook his fist at the sky, but that was no good.
Pelipper soared off with all the majesty of a Pokémon that doesn't have any legs, let alone a neck. But Shenlong was rather terrified of being eaten, so it seemed, so he struggled, and struggled, and struggled again, and a moment later, Pelipper crashed into a sand dune not far away, the Magikarp flopping hysterically around in its mouth, forcing it to spit him out. Shenlong, the graceful tactician, proceeded to slap the bird in the face with his tail before sputtering out on the sand again where he proceeded to jump and flail and look altogether magisterial out of water, as he was.
The boy didn't think twice and threw one of those sand-eaten Poké Balls at Pelipper. Coughing and blinking in a dazed way, the birdbrain didn't even realize it had been captured. The ball landed delicately, and without incident, on the sand before disappearing into a flash of light a moment later.
"Well, that went easier than expected. Good work, Shenlong."
"Carp, carp, carp, carp," replied Shenlong.
I wonder if Magikarp even have a language or if they're just pretending.
They set off around the island in search of Katagiri, finding little more than used PP up containers and Poké Balls that the waves must have snapped in half. No Painted Dragons anywhere… not even off-shore. Weird. Where could they be? Did Alex really take them all out?
But if Alex had taken them all out, as he was probably capable of, wouldn't that mean that he was coming to find Ryan? There were no ships on the horizon, no Gyarados storming towards the shore. In fact, the sky was a pale blue, and there was not a cloud in sight. It was nigh midday, and Ryan's belly was rumbling.
Being a deserted tropical island, there was necessarily a whole forest of coconut trees just beyond the beach. And it was getting pretty hot, so Ryan decided now was as good a time as ever to move the plot along. Calling for Katagiri, he found what looked like an abandoned newspaper stand with piles and piles of BRAND NEW HOT OFF THE PRESS 'A ONE-EYED QUEEN ON THE RIVER' EDITED BY UNCLE GEORGE OF ALL PEOPLE THESE ARE GOING TO SELL LIKE DRAGON EGGS! AND DID WE MENTION THIS WONDERFUL SEQUEL, MUCH ANTICIPATED, SO MANY DAYS COMING, WAS EDITED BY UNCLE GEORGE? LINE UP, GET YOUR CASH READY, AND PRE-ORDER THE LATEST INSTALLMENT OF WILD CARDS, NUTTING ON THE RIVER TODAY!
Nothing beside remained. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, one could almost taste again those vain, craven, appentent headlines, a thousand mummer's farces boiled together into the toughest leather, poking up from beneath the sands, proclaiming fervently that finally the American Tolkien had shown his face, too breathless in their own selfish desires to notice old Uncle George had instead chosen to feast upon the marrow of his own legacy instead, leaving in the end nothing worth reading, much like this entire paragraph. To call such a lazy, bitter man the American Tolkien is an insult to both America and Tolkien, but I digress.
A One-Eyed Queen on the River was all anyone could hope for, if their name was not Gus Hansen. Ryan, on the other hand, felt entirely sick having witnessed the newspaper stand wannabe, and he greatly lamented the fact that Magikarp did not know Fire Blast.
Further on in the jungle, Ryan came across what looked like a makeshift rock monument, partially collapsed into the sand with five stone slabs arranged almost like a star in a neat, deliberate pattern. Those things are taller than me, the boy realized. They must weigh tons… He was about to notice the strange, bipedal, human-like pictographs carved into each one, except that, precisely at this moment, Katagiri made himself known again.
He was stuck on the furthest rock from Ryan, perched on its peak like a stone Luxray. The only reason Ryan even noticed Katagiri was because of the floating Larvesta, propping itself up by spurts of fire, being chased by the naive Froakie's Bubble attack.
"Katagiri… what are you doing up there?"
"Greee!"
"Katagiri… no! Get down from there! What are you doing? That Larvesta's going to roast you! Get down!"
"Froooooooooaaah!" Oh boy, he sounds like he wants to play.
Bubbles shot at the Larvesta, who was merely hovering in place, minding its own business, not for one instant believing that it could be attacked in such a dastardly way. And therein lay its folly. I'd think that a wild Pokémon like that jabroni would be able to dodge, at least. How did it survive this long if it's so dang stupid?
Because the Larvesta was stupid, no pity should it garner when it flopped dramatically with a cry to the ground, its flames extinguished, the force of one or two Froakie bubbles making contact with its flesh enough to render it unconscious. And if there's one thing Ryan had learned in his travels through Kanto, it was that an unconscious wild Pokémon was essentially the same as a Pokémon who did not exist, and it was his solemn duty as a Pokémon Trainer to not only keep his last empty Poké Ball in his pocket, but to pretend as if that Larvetar wasn't actually there. But who could really blame Ryan? It wasn't like there was any tall grass this deep into the island, so he could only pretend so much. However, with a few kicks, enough sand had been brushed over the fallen feral monster so as to make it almost unseeable, and that was really all anyone had been asking for anyways.
"Katagiri, come on, you can make it down from there. It's just a rock!"
"Greeeeeeeeh!" the Froakie screamed nervously. He pranced back and forth from one edge to the next, making sure he could see everything Ryan could. He gave his master a dour look, as if to say, you try jumping down from here if you're so confident.
The boy was in no mood to appease such anarchist babble. "If you don't come down from there, I'll have to leave you here, buddy. And who would want that?"
"Iieieieieieiie!"
"Exactly! Now come on, you can jump right into my arms, I'll catch ya!"
Katagiri gave Ryan a dubious look, as if to suggest Ryan had no ability to actually catch him. And that really got Ryan mad–he had never needed to catch Katagiri because he had hatched the poor baby himself a long time ago. He barely even remembered it! But one thing he did remember was that he had that Luxury Ball in his pocket, and he had been saving it especially for this moment.
"Well, okay then. In that case, think fast!"
He threw the ball so fast, Katagiri barely had time to pirouette to look down upon his master again as he paced nervously upon the stone slab. The ball hit Katagiri in the side of the head, and he fell over like Rahul had that one time he'd leaned too far back in his chair while trying to take on a whole wave of Fuel Rod wielding Generals by himself (an ever hopeless venture, as Ryan had learned over the years). Nevertheless, Katagiri didn't resist going in the ball, and he had no reason to. If he couldn't be happy in a Luxury Ball, I don't know what I'd do with him.
Everything was going along swimmingly, or perhaps Ryan was just an idiot who couldn't read the pictographs of a test tube alien birthed in the sterile hostility of Team Rocket's headquarters. Regardless, as soon as Katagiri's ball had returned to him, he noticed a boy standing in the jungle, his arms folded, a scowl upon his face.
There was something wrong in the way he looked–it reminded Ryan of when Ditto tried to mimic various celebrities on TV game shows… only, this creature moved entirely alien to how a human would as well. It was on him in an instant.
"Leave." Its lips never parted.
"Wh-wha… who are you? What the heck?!" Ryan jumped back, entirely unnerved. What the heck is going on here? "Are you one of the Painted Dragons?"
The ground shook; the boy's entire figure seemed to melt like tomato soup left to boil over grandma's stove (and Ryan had never heard an old lady curse so much before or since); His opponent's eyes glowed blue with energy. His skin became grey-pink with his belly brightening into a green color. It was so unnatural it took his breath away. But he didn't need the help.
The creature had a tail, and it was green too. It lunged at him, purple energy in its fist, dripping from its eye, and it tried once to hit him with the energy. Ryan recognized the attack as some sort of Psychic Type attack, but he didn't know which one it was specifically.
"Please stop! I'm not trying to hurt you… I'm lost, okay? I'm just trying to get back to the Sevii Islands and find my–"
The energy split into a dozen little flecks of light, all surrounding Ryan, and all bearing down on him in the next instant. He put up his hands to block and felt nothing as the explosion detonated, shaking the trees. Several coconuts fell with loud thunks.
Am I dead? He opened his eyes, bewildered, noticing with spine-prickling awe that a pink, semi-translucent bubble had formed around his body, and that that little pebble he'd found on the beach and thrown haphazardly into his pocket was now radiating with heat, enough to set his heart aflame.