Far to the northeast of the Explorer Coalition base camp, beyond the border of The Great Forest and deep within a frozen tundra, a large snowed-in village stood surrounding a perpetually frozen lake. Although it had only produced two in recent memory, the village—named Aquaria for its ancient founder—was known far and wide as the village where legendary performers got their start. As a result, hopeful Pokémon from all around made the grueling trek out to the isolated Aquaria in hopes of discovering whatever spark of inspiration spawned such amazing Pokémon. So now, for better or for worse, the streets of Aquaria were always overfull with street performers practicing their craft and a constant din filled the village all hours of the day and night.
The community of performers was a unique one. While they were technically competitors, not a single one of their number took it seriously. In fact, even the most jaded Pokémon that came to Aquaria in search of fame and fortune were won over by the jolly atmosphere—in reality, all of the performers worked together to put on larger shows, and the clusters of them that spent each and every day together were more akin to families than anything else.
Little did the de-facto families of Aquaria know, the newest addition to the familiar faces on the streets was not all she seemed. Sally the Weavile was known for three things: her extreme shyness and bashful nature which only disappeared when she lost herself in her singing, her beautiful low-toned voice, and her unwillingness to remove her mask. The last was naturally attributed to the first, which was precisely the intention—in truth, Sally was the dangerous outlaw Isle, employing her favorite strategy for obscuring her identity.
It had been almost a month since Isle's failed assassination attempt on that Riolu. She was frustrated with herself—her target was helpless before her, but she froze up and ran. A true assassin would have committed, killing her target even if it meant being caught, but... that damn Forest Ghost. She had been specifically warned about him when she was recruited, but only an actual encounter instilled proper fear—and Isle didn't even directly see him. Sceptile were strong and fast by nature, sure, but the Forest Ghost was overwhelmingly so. He had to be more than just a simple Pokémon.
Regardless of the reason, her failure meant that Isle now had to spend copious amounts of time waiting for security around her target to relax again. It would likely be an especially long wait for this particular target, but Isle hadn't been caught yet for a reason—she was very familiar with how to be patient, and she knew well that it was far better to be safe than sorry. The presence of the Forest Ghost was admittedly concerning, but even he couldn't spend the rest of his life protecting some Riolu.
"'ey Sally," a gruff voice called, pulling Isle out of her thoughts. Outwardly, she had been sitting on a bench, getting lost in humming a nonsense song to herself. "D'ye know this 'un?" an old Crawdaunt asked as he and the Pokémon surrounding him began to play a tune on their various instruments.
Isle was annoyed to find that she did recognize the song—in fact, she suspected everyone on the continent would, so she couldn't very well say no. This damn Crawdaunt—he might as well have said ''ey Sally, sing this song for us.' Outwardly, however, she had Sally smile excitedly—but still bashfully—as she prepared to begin singing on her cue.
Of all the tales told through the land,
None ring as true as the tale of sand
Through deserts hot and sandstorms grand,
A city planned in this land of sand
O Laverntopolis, a city cursed
Undone by greed, overladen purse
Into the sand, Lavern did fall
Reclaimed by the earth, one and all
Isle swayed back and forth, giving the impression to her gathering audience that she was genuinely loving singing to them. Admittedly, she was enjoying herself—but for a completely different reason. As a dark-type, it was immensely satisfying to successfully fool other Pokémon—and she was one of the best. Every Pokémon in the town of Aquaria thoroughly believed her lies, and even as she felt nothing but annoyance about being forced to sing, all they were ever going to see was a sweet, shy, and genuine Pokémon. In reality, she didn't even bother remembering any of their names. Isle internally laughed to herself as she approached the chorus.
One and all, one and all
Consumed by sand and greed alike
One and all, one and all
Buried alive, all out of sight
As the chorus came to a close, Isle's heart dropped. In the gathering audience, she caught sight of a Sceptile. They were simply standing and watching like any other Pokémon in the audience, but still—was it possible that the Forest Ghost had followed her all the way to Aquaria? Genuine fear was settling deep into her core, but she forced herself looked away. She could not break character. Maintaining character was the only hope that she had—whether that Sceptile was the Forest Ghost or not—so she couldn't stare. She continued smiling, and she continued singing.
Now before it went, Lavern was lush
With trade and wealth, Lavern did gush
Perhaps this was why, upon the city's fall
The 'mons chose to stay—one and all
One and all, one and all
Consumed by sand and greed alike
One and all, one and all
Buried alive, all out of sight
With the song finally done, Isle was able to risk another glance at the crowd. As the applause began, the Sceptile joined in. They were continuing to behave as any other Pokémon present… Isle must have been mistaken. As the fear left her system, a deep and immense satisfaction overcame her. Despite her fear, she had continued to play her part exquisitely—she was certain that even the most observant of spectators would have only seen the innocent Sally persona with no interruption. The true performance was far from over, however—Isle began acting more and more bashful since Sally was coming down from losing herself in her singing.
"Agh," the Crawdaunt coughed as Isle returned to her seat. "Ye always draw a crowd. If ye would only sing more ye'd certainly find great renown."
The Crawdaunt disgusted Isle. It seemed that there was phlegm perpetually building up in his throat, so every time he spoke it sounded wet and rough. Regardless, she smiled sweetly. "I wish I could… it really just takes too much out of me."
"Yer shyness'll get better with time," he said. "One day, ye will join the greats of Aquaria. Mark my words."
Well, he was kind and meant well, she supposed, though he certainly chose the wrong Pokémon to support. Regardless, it was a relief that no one would bother her now—at least for a bit. Isle risked one more glance in the direction of the Sceptile only to find that they had entirely disappeared. This wasn't necessarily surprising as the audience had mostly dispersed by this point, but something still didn't sit right with her—especially because she hadn't seen a Sceptile in Aquaria before.
Either way, better safe than sorry. Isle thought to herself before concentrating her thoughts, attempting to project them: Sir, if you aren't busy, could you watch me the rest of the day? I have a bad feeling.
Done.
A simple response, but a reassuring one nonetheless. Now feeling a bit more secure, Isle simply relaxed on her bench and watched the town. Even if she occasionally had to sing to maintain her cover, Aquaria was a very pleasant place to sit. The frosty air agreed with Isle's ice-type nature, and the near-constant music in the streets infused the city with a sort of jolly energy. Isle's favorite part by far, however, was the Poké-watching: simply sitting and watching the Pokémon of Aquaria was relentlessly interesting—far more so than speaking with any of them. There were the musicians, making the town pleasant as an accidental side effect of the pursuit of their own selfish dreams. Then there were the non-musician citizens of the town, the vast majority of which spent most of their day simply enjoying the performances around town. Finally, the most diverse and interesting group by far: the travelers. Due to its isolation, there wasn't typically much of a reason to visit Aquaria—as a result, the travelers that did find themselves in the town—though rare—were always unique. Isle couldn't know their stories, but it was always fun to speculate. What was so special about the pack that Venonat had that they carried it so protectively? Why was that Skiddo's pelt nearly lost under a web of old scars? Why was that Araquanid transporting a Feebas in their water bubble? Sometimes Isle would even find inspiration for future personas for once she inevitably had to retire Sally.
As it turned out, Isle was not bothered for the remainder of the day; she was able to spend all her time relaxing on the bench, enjoying the atmosphere of the town and watching Pokémon. The Sceptile was nowhere to be seen despite Isle's relative vigilance—it was as if they had only existed during her performance.
After a full day of relaxation, the sun was beginning to come down. As it did, the number of Pokémon in the street began to dwindle. Some were going to sleep, while some were simply moving to perform indoors within one of the many inns of Aquaria. Regardless, only when the sun had properly set and the streets were as empty as they were going to get did Isle finally stand. She moved through the dark streets, walking with a carefree gait and humming along to some song that she could hear faintly from somewhere indoors—with much less Pokémon around, Sally was feeling more comfortable with herself.
Isle kept moving north. Eventually, she had exited the town and was walking through the adjacent snowy tundra—the warm but muted noise of the town quickly overtaken by the wind whistling in her ears. She followed a path through the snow she herself had established over the course of many days. It led her nearly a mile away from Aquaria, where the bare tundra led into a frozen forest.
Around her, the trees thrived despite the frigid climate and the snow on the branches formed heavy blankets, nearly entirely obscuring the sky. The trees also blocked the wind, and the snow seemed to dampen all sound regardless of its source. The resultant near-silence created an eerie atmosphere, though Isle had no reason whatsoever to be afraid.
Soon, Isle came across a small cave in the side of a steep, rocky incline. It, along with the frozen forest just outside, created the perfect place to live for any Weavile. So, it didn't matter if one of the townsfolk happened to follow her for whatever reason—Sally was still a Weavile, and no Weavile would pass up this cave.
Even with the possibility of her being followed, it was the one place that Isle could be alone and relax. She moved to the back of the cave and settled down in the comfortable darkness. Almost immediately, Isle felt drowsiness begin to overwhelm her—even for her, pretending to be someone else every hour of the day was truly exhausting. But she would repeat the process again tomorrow, the next day, and every foreseeable day going forward. She was happy to do it because it was all for a good cause.
The light emanating from Dante was so bright that Luca had to squint and bring a paw to her eyes. Still, she didn't let herself fully look away: witnessing evolution wasn't something she wanted to miss. As it turned out, however, there wasn't much for her to see during the process itself: within what amounted to a total of at most a second from beginning to end, the light that was entirely obscuring Dante's body faded away just as fast as it came, revealing his brand-new form.
As a Charmeleon, everything about Dante was larger. For one, his height nearly doubled—while before his evolution he and Luca were the same height, she now barely came up to his chest. Even relative to his larger body, his arms were almost twice as long and his claws, previously little more than sharp, sturdy tips on his scaly fingers, were now proper claws made of what looked like keratin—so massive on his hands that Luca thought 'talons' may be more appropriate. Overall, Dante's body was larger, more lean, more muscular, and more dangerous looking. Luca never felt that Dante had looked plump or silly when he was a Charmander—how could she when he was a fire-breathing lizard—but compared to the beast in front of her, Dante's Charmander form felt like the toddler to his Charmeleon form's adult.
Dante himself appeared enamored with his new body. He flexed his claws, twisted himself in place to look at his tail, and even let out a few happy spurts of fire.
"I cannot be-lieve how good this feels! Luca," the new Dante excitedly said as he turned towards her. His voice was nearly unchanged, though with his larger body it resonated a bit more. "Do you want to spar? Right now?"
Absol's voice came from the side before Luca could respond. "I'm sure you're very interested in seeing what your new form can do, but remember, you're still in blaze. You could be seriously injured without knowing, and besides—Luca is currently bleeding out from her leg. You should both go to the medical tent before anything else."
"Ugh, fine," Dante rolled his eyes. "Come here, Luca," he said as he approached her. "Lean on me, I'll help you walk."
"Before you go, do you wish to change your name?" Absol asked. "Now is the time if so."
"Dante's still fine."
Absol nodded before addressing Luca directly. "Make sure he actually lets Tabunne check him for injuries. Blaze can make otherwise intelligent fire-types become… well, I was going to say foolhardy, but stupid is probably more accurate."
Dante huffed but otherwise stayed silent. It seemed that even he couldn't find the words to argue with that.
"OK," Luca acknowledged. Then, they were off. Although Luca didn't necessarily need Dante's help to walk, she figured it was probably good to keep weight off her leg. The throbbing was getting worse and worse over time, and blood was still flowing freely—to the point that Luca was making a trail through camp with blood drops that occasionally dribbled down her leg and off of her foot. Luca wondered if it was some Pokémon's job to clean it up.
Luca was surprised Dante had so quickly offered to help her walk. Since his blaze had been activated, Dante had been acting like a bit of a tool—not at all like himself. With this stark personality change, Luca could certainly understand how blaze could be a double-edged sword: even if he was stronger and not slowed down by injuries, Luca could see him failing to properly consider danger and getting himself killed.
Regardless, Luca wanted to know. "Hey, so," she began as they walked between the tents. "What does it feel like?"
Dante looked down to her with an amused expression. She would really need to get used to him towering over her. "You didn't wait long to ask," he smirked. Somehow, he was acting a lot like Lann at the moment. "But you know, it's really tempting to say that you'll have to wait and see."
"Dante," Luca warned. She tried to put an edge in her voice to show she was serious. He would likely be her only source for this information, and she wasn't about to let his blaze persona withhold it as a joke.
Dante didn't immediately respond. As they walked, the occasional Pokémon passed by them. To Luca's surprise, none of them really interacted with her as she limped along, supported by Dante—the most she got was a nod or a wave. Luca had originally assumed they were avoiding her due to the bulletin where it was made clear to not crowd her or make her uncomfortable, but for them to not offer help or even ask what happened when she was very clearly injured? She felt a bit like a social pariah, and she didn't really understand why.
"...It's hard to describe," Dante finally admitted as his tone became a bit more serious. "I could feel every single one of the changes as they happened all at once. My muscles growing and extending, this horn growing on the back of my head, my claws—you'd think it would be confusing and scary just from me describing it, but it felt amazing, and it helped me immediately get comfortable with being in a new body."
"…OK, I kinda get why it's not talked about," Luca said. "I really got nothing from that."
Dante tried to shrug in response, but he somehow forgot that he was meant to be supporting Luca. She tried to catch herself with her injured leg, but Dante dropping her had come far too abruptly. Luca ended up on the ground, though she managed to keep her open wound from touching the dusty ground.
"Oh, uh," Dante said. "Sorry. Here, I've got you." Dante roughly pulled Luca up before she was even ready and, without pause, began walking. She nearly stumbled again, but managed to keep up. Luca forced herself to swallow her irritation: it wasn't necessarily his fault when he was in blaze.
They were both silent for the remainder of the trip and soon, the two of them were soon pushing their way into the white medical tent. As before, Tabunne the Audino sat behind her desk in the reception area.
"Oh, you're..." Tabunne began before she visibly realized the state Dante and Luca were in. "...Oh. That can wait. Follow me."
The two of them complied, following Tabunne into the hallway beyond. She then led them into one of the many examination rooms. It consisted of a single bed and was nearly identical to the one they had met Pala in—for all Luca could remember, it could have been precisely the same one.
"Sit on the bed, both of you," she instructed. "Now, what exactly happened?"
"We were teaching Luca how to counter," Dante explained. "I went deeper with my claws than I intended and got clobbered. And hey, I evolved—isn't that crazy? I'm Dante!"
"Congrats," Tabunne said flatly—it was clear she couldn't care less at the moment. "Close your eyes for a moment, Luca," she said as she raised a small, cream-colored hand as if she was going to flick something at Luca's face.
Luca closed her eyes and, sure enough, Tabunne flicked some kind of liquid all over her front. Luca wiped her eyes before opening them and looking down. She was just in time to see water soaking into her fur. Within a few moments, however, the moisture had disappeared, leaving her entirely dry save for the blood in her fur. Simultaneously, Luca felt her wound begin to itch. Before her eyes, it closed up—quickly leaving the blood still soaking the fur on her now intact skin as the only evidence of any injury.
"Oh, God," Luca couldn't help but exclaim. "How did..."
"Hm?" Tabunne said, perking up. "Oh, of course you wouldn't be familiar with this. I'm sorry, Luca, I should have warned you. For healing, I use a technique called life dew. Having experienced it you can likely guess how it works, but since it's water-based, it doesn't agree with Dante for reasons that I hope are obvious. This means I need to use more mundane methods for Dante. So, Dante—precisely what kind of 'clobbering' did you receive?"
"Uppercut," Dante smiled, lifting his head and tapping his jaw with a large claw. "Right here."
"OK, lie down. If it was especially powerful, the muscles in your back and neck may be strained or damaged. We'll have to wait for your blaze to end so we can see if you're in pain."
"That could take hours," Dante sighed. "Can't I walk around until then?"
"If it takes hours, Dante, that means you're extremely injured," Tabunne retorted harshly. "You'd be making it worse with every step. Lie. Down."
Dante sighed and rolled his eyes, but complied regardless after Luca stood to allow him room on the bed.
"Good," Tabunne nodded. "Luca you may do as you wish—after you wash the blood off, of course. If you aren't busy, though, I would appreciate you keeping Dante company so he'll actually stay down."
"...OK, I can do that," Luca said.
"Excellent. Follow me, I'll show you where you can wash up."
As Luca followed the Audino, she couldn't help but let out a small sigh: she wasn't looking forward to what could end up being the next few hours. Even if she would normally be fine with spending time with Dante, she much preferred normal Dante—blaze Dante really rubbed her the wrong way. Regardless, she had to, so Luca prepared herself to tolerate him until he was back to normal.
When Isle awoke, she spent a long few minutes staring at the ceiling of the cave. She may have to spend her days pretending to be Sally, but that didn't mean she had to rush into it. Still, she was perfectly rested, and she couldn't spend the entire day alone in a cave, so it was time to get back to work. She heaved herself up to her feet and, as she moved to leave her cave, Isle looked directly up into the sky. Although she couldn't see the sun directly, based on the angle of the light it was about 10 AM. No wonder she felt so rejuvenated—considering she had gone to sleep not long after the sun had gone down, she had gotten a huge amount of sleep. She tended to need more sleep than the average Pokémon, but this was a bit extreme—not that she was complaining.
Isle leisurely followed her path through the forest. She had no reason to hurry—at least right up until she heard a voice echo within her mind.
There is a Sceptile jumping between tree branches half a mile ahead. He is moving directly towards you at a high rate of speed, as if he knows precisely where you are.
Isle didn't need to hear more, and she didn't stop to deliberate like she had in The Great Forest: without hesitation, she leapt into the forest. She moved as quickly as she could—jumping with long strides and only touching the ground every dozen meters or so.
He's accelerating. He'll be upon you soon.
Isle's fear was becoming more and more palpable as she fled. How was he so much faster than her? She had gotten away from him at The Great Forest… did he let her get away on purpose back then? She changed direction a bit—45 degrees to the right. Perhaps she could still lose him. Isle kept at it, and it ended up being a few minutes before her mind spoke to her again.
You're caught.
"What?" Isle hissed under her breath, forgetting herself as indignation superseded fear. She had just been given no instruction, no warning—just a resigned 'You're caught.' He'd given up on her.
As it turned out, he had given up for a reason. She hadn't seen anything in the open grass before landing, but her foot was entirely snagged on something. As her face careened towards the ground faster than she could catch herself with her arms, she watched as the earth split open in an instant and produced what looked like the tip of a freshly chopped log. It was moving towards her face just as fast as she was falling.
…
…
…Huh? Where… Oh. Isle was lying face down in the grass, and the last thing she remembered was seeing that log coming at her head as she fell—and now she had a killer headache. Did she lose consciousness? It must have only been for a second or two.
Isle tried to push herself up, but found she was being held down to the ground by rope. No—on second thought, it felt like vines had grown out of the ground to pull her down. Her claws were completely immobilized, and with her mouth being forced to point at the ground, every way of freeing herself she had was unavailable. She was completely helpless.
Isle heard a subtle thump of something hitting the ground somewhere in front of her—though she couldn't raise her head to see what it was.
"I can't believe you did it—again!" a male voice said excitedly from the direction of the thump. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. Isle the assassin, I presume?"
Isle felt a rush of rage. If this was truly the voice of the Forest Ghost, she had just been thoroughly bested by a Pokémon speaking with the levity of winning a card game.
Play along. I will come for you.
Hearing that, Isle's rage was tempered a bit by her relief: he hadn't given up on her completely. Plus, if she was meant to play along, she didn't need to go crazy with desperate tricks or pretending to be someone else—she could finally simply be herself.
"How did you find me?" she asked coolly.
"I don't mind sharing," he said, his casual tone betraying his cockiness. "I simply guessed. I knew what direction you ran off in and assumed you were going that way for a reason. I checked town by town as I moved, hoping I was behind you. Frankly, to save time, I typically skipped over cold places, assuming you would avoid them for fear of being too obvious. That's why it took upwards of… how long has it been? A month? Anyways, once I saw a Weavile with a mask, I had my suspicions. You have quite the beautiful singing voice, by the way—ever considered a change of career?"
He went quiet, apparently expecting a response. "No," Isle said, telling the truth.
"Ah, that's a shame. A waste, really. Anyways, I didn't know it was you until I tested it. I tried to make you sense me approaching in the same way, and lo and behold, you did. So, that brings me to my first question—and I've been awfully candid, so I'm hoping you'll be willing to reciprocate. How are you sensing my approach from so far away? I must know."
Isle mentally kicked herself. She could have stayed anonymous if she hadn't ran, but her fear of this damn Sceptile bested her once again. Regardless, even if Isle was intending to cooperate, his first question was one she would never answer. "I can't tell you that."
"I see. And I don't suppose you'd be willing to talk about your employer, either?"
"I'm afraid not."
The Forest Ghost sighed with disappointment. "I see," he repeated. "Well, you seem quite reasonable, at least. I'm under orders to take you back camp, but I'm willing to make it a comfortable process for you. You'll be able to travel under your own power, unbound, and you'll be able to keep all your possessions. Try to escape from me, however, and we'll have to reevaluate that. I hope I've demonstrated sufficiently that trying to escape is futile, so if you're able to tolerate our initial arrangement it will be a comfortable journey for us both. OK?"
Isle couldn't have hoped for a better arrangement. Not only did she get to travel with comfort and, most critically, without removing her cloak, but she hadn't been intending to attempt to escape in the first place. Not that she could have, of course: the Forest Ghost had made that perfectly clear with his speed. Come to think of it, he couldn't have the advantages that Isle did: how was he reliably sensing her from so far away?
"Fine," Isle said. "I appreciate the freedom. Incidentally, how were you sensing me?"
"Ah, well, you caught me," he said as the vines retracted from binding Isle. "I'm not an open book after all—I won't tell you how I did it, either. Still, I'm glad to hear you're willing to be rational about this. Do you need to grab anything before we go?"
Isle finally stood and took her first proper look at the Forest Ghost. He looked like a normal member of his species, of course: he had clearly been that Sceptile in the crowd when she was singing. The only difference between then and now was he had a large heavy-looking satchel slung over his shoulder. Still, Isle somehow expected there to be something visually special about him given the fear he inspired in her. "No," she finally answered. "Assuming you've got enough food and water in that pack."
"I do. Let's go."
As Isle followed the Forest Ghost through the icy forest, she considered what was in store for her. The Explorer Coalition was very clearly aware of who precisely her target was given that Riolu were Aura readers. In fact, they seemed sure enough that none of the Forest Ghost's questions were to verify her target. Realistically, interrogation was likely in store—perhaps even torture, eventually. She would be saved at some point, of course, but if it took too long she may end up breaking—torture wasn't something she was accustomed to. A small part of her wanted to ask the voice in her mind for reassurance that she would be saved in a timely manner, but it really wasn't her place to ask. Frankly, she was a bit too scared of him to push her luck.
