Story 7 - Under Those Watchful Stars, written by: VultureStan

Two pokemon, a silent warrior and a stray psychic.

A Feraligatr strides forward with purpose while a blue Kirlia strolls in their shadow. Both have been on this journey for a long time; only one knows it will end soon.

The Feraligatr carries their burdens. In one hand they carry everything to see them through this journey: berries, apples, wines, orbs and a fistful of seeds. In the other they drag a grey flag across the earth. In this war of ideals, this frail piece of fabric separates them from two armies of zealots. Without this flag or their wits, the journey of these two souls would've ended much sooner.

The Psychic-type belongs to neither army. A weak heart, and a longing to see the conflict end drove him down the lonesome path of neutrality. One day he met a stranger on the shore, and the water-type with a scar across its neck became his closest friend and ally.

Together they seek peace. Whether it must be brought through battle or through the help of a higher power - any existence was better than letting this battle of ideals clash forevermore.


"Are we going to be safe?"

Through a dusty lens the Ferligatr sees campfires and tents dotting the valley. Dozens of pokemon wander in the full moonlight, some armoured, some not. They hear music and murmurs in the distance. This darkly-clad group is returning from a long fought battle in celebration.

Looking amongst the crowd, they witness an odd gleam. A short Flaffy stares back through a spyglass. Spotting the duo's flag, the electric type bids them a wave and turns their sights elsewhere. A quarrel with two travellers isn't worth destroying this peace over.

Feraligatr almost cracks a smile when he glances back. They got lucky tonight.

An invisible force whisks the monocular from their hand into the Kirlia's grasp. Brushing his locks of hair aside, Kirlia steps forward and puts the glass up to his eye.

"They look occupied." He sighs, stowing the trinket under his silver shawl. "Sorry. If I didn't see for myself I don't think I'd be able to sleep. Everything has been nerve-wracking ever since…"

Feraligatr nods slowly. Don't allow it to resurface.

Their journey was lasting them into the winter seasons, though there has yet to be snowfall the cool winds blowing through the lands was an omen of things to come. They need shelter, but lighting a fire this high was a beacon for all manner of creatures to raze them, so they chose the embrace of a cavern for the night. The only entrance barely fit the Feraligatr, but the cold granite walls were a better home than their flimsy tent.

Kirlia finds a nearby rock to sit , while Feraligatr stands ever so stoic. As souls who belong nowhere they can only participate in the merriment from a distance, watching these Pokemon find peace and joy from their fellows in this tumultuous time. The roaring music is deafened by the blowing winds; when it reaches the ledge it's no more than a faraway whisper.

A luminous moon shines from above and an audience of a million stars watches their world unravel. The stars remember everything. They have been here since the beginning, so they will ultimately witness the end. Pokemon spend their entire lives trying to speak to them - few are ever successful.

"If you look close enough, you can see Legendaries and heroes. The stars catch them when they go up, and paint them in the night sky." Kirlia speaks wistfully, as he beholds the brilliant cosmos. "Ninetails said the legends watch us from up there. If they are, I hope it's one who cares about us."

There was always this one set of stars he likes to point to. It's visible only in winter, consisting of eight stars which form a bird with a long flowing crest. He calls this one Articuno. Its sister, Moltress can be seen during the summer in the exact same spot. Both pokemon sway the seasons with their wings, and the absence of one of them would spell disaster.

This conflict of ideals - which has seen generations be born and kingdoms rise and fade into obscurity - is what happens when two Legendary beings take arms against the other. It won't end until one of them leaves this world. It will be cataclysmic, it will make the aberrant Dungeons look like child's play. It's what Feraligatr, the Kirlia, and whoever joins them are trying to avoid. Their success thus far is summarised by a whisper from the Psychic.

"I won't get our hopes up."

He doesn't linger on this. It's better for Kirlia to speak what comes to heart than allow for a dreadful silence to take hold.

"I was going to be a seer someday."

His orange-red eyes gleam in the starlight. Old hopes and dreams he conveys in a shuddering sigh.

"I wanted to learn Future Sight. I thought if I could predict what's going to happen I would have nothing to worry about. I could stop harm coming my way, keep myself from hurting others with my words. If this Conflict was never going to go away then the best thing I could do is to know when it might come for me. I met you by chance…"

Another shaking breath.

"...and we haven't been safe enough to practise since."

Battles, dungeons, fleeing from one place to the other whilst following far-flung rumours about how to reach a Tower which may not even exist in the physical sense. Many have tried, the rest have abandoned this prospect. A human being strung along by a Kirlia may be the best chance anyone has.

The only thing the human-turned pokemon brought with them to this world was an insurmountable task: Quell the legends; bring peace. The Kirlia who's been with them through every leg of this quest is reason enough to never abandon this duty.

They reach over, and place a hand on his shoulder. You'll get your rest soon. Words they desperately need to tell him, but can't.

Kirlia quietly takes their hand into his. He holds their claws as tightly as his frail fingers could allow then reluctantly lets go.

"My kind can sense emotions, it comes naturally. Some of us are Telepaths. It takes so much of me not to accidentally cross a line." Kirlia looks away from the stars, something else has his mind. "I don't know who you are, where you're from. Surely after travelling with you for months you have so many things to tell me. All I would need to do is focus on those senses, then snap, and every question I have about you could be answered."

"There is a way for you to easily speak to me. I just can't do this to a friend. It feels like treading on sacred grounds - an act those Legendaries up high would strike me down for."

Kirlia tugs on his silvery apparel, gripping it as though it were a symbol of might. It gives him the strength to stand and face Feraligatr.

"We should find a way to talk before this is all over, before it gets to be too late. I speak so much. It's only fair you get a turn, right?"

Feraligatr nods. It's enough to make Kirlia smile, and in a few short seconds, he drags himself into the cave. Feraligatr stays where they are.

After all, they always take the first watch.