Professor Willow's office was a graveyard of half-empty coffee cups, crumpled paper, and untouched meals prepared by the trainers that passed in and out of the room like ghosts, either unnoticed or ignored. Clothes and blankets sprawled across the small couch that sat against one of the walls, evidence of a makeshift bed used briefly and infrequently. Maps had been plastered around the room, scrawled over in red marker with cities circled, paths outlined, notes jotted hastily between coffee stain splatters.

It was the den of a madman.

In the middle of it, slumped across his crooked, overburdened desk, was the madman himself. Willow's eyes were open, but he was neither awake nor asleep. His head rested on the desk, among the mugs of cold coffee and the scattered pens and markers. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting this way. Five minutes? An hour? It didn't matter. He didn't have time for mucking around.

He straightened up in his chair and rubbed his dry eyes. Time. There was too much of it and not enough. It had been a week. A week without a message on his communicator or a verifiable sighting or any indication that they were still alive. The snow had long since melted. The sky had returned to a chipper blue. It was almost insulting. The rest of Willow's world had turned so gray…

Willow lifted a poster from his desk and stared blankly at it. The three team leaders smiled at him in black and white ink from the missing persons memo. It wasn't one of the official posters, the ones issued by the police. He'd wanted to make something more personal, something he could hang up to remind people of who the missing were, of the lives that had been disrupted. The photo showed Blanche, Candela, and Spark in the lab kitchen, laughing with each other as they cooked what was supposed to have been a surprise birthday cake for Willow. He hadn't realized it at the time, hadn't understood why Blanche had looked so stricken when he walked in on them, or why Candela had started laughing so hard she nearly fell off the counter on which she'd been perched. He'd insisted on taking a picture to use in the newsletter he periodically distributed to Go trainers. It was never meant to be used for something like this.

Candela's parents, particularly her mother, had liked the picture. The Violles and Blanche's father, the hermitlike Mr. Kelvin, had coordinated to contact the police after their adult children had failed to return from their trek into the woods. Mr. Violle had flown in from an assignment in another region in order to search for his daughter himself. He'd scoured the woods around the Akanoir mountain range but, like the rest of the search parties, had turned up nothing. If Willow was exhausted, he couldn't fathom how his assistants' actual relatives felt.

His eyes lingered on Spark's face in the picture, his cheek slightly smudged with flour. Spark's family, to no one's surprise, had offered no comment regarding the situation. Willow presumed the Voltas had spoken with the authorities about their son, but they certainly had made no public comment about his disappearance. Willow wanted to believe that the Voltas were mourning in their own, private way, but a spiteful piece of his heart wondered what kind of family could treat this tragedy with such apparent disinterest.

And it was a tragedy. All the fruitless searches, the calls made to hospitals across the region, the hours spent talking with detectives, it all had been for nothing. Willow could read the writing on the wall. He could hear the somber notes in the voices of the investigators who knew they would never find these people alive. He could sense the waning energy of the indominable Dr. Violle as she paced through the laboratory, cradling Candela's Cayenne in her arms.

They were the worst kind of gone. There were no remains to lay to rest and sing hymns over. There were no answers hidden in the hills of Akanoir. There was nothing.

Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe it would hurt less to accept that he would never see them again. Maybe another coffee would help, this time with just a dram of something stronger, something that could help him forget.

"Professor?"

Willow let the paper fall to his desk. What was he thinking? That wasn't him. He wasn't the giving-up type. His assistants sure as hell weren't, either. It had just been a sleepless and nightmarish week.

"Professor Willow."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry," Willow sputtered, addressing the Mystic trainer who had entered his office.

The trainer hurried toward him, her face flushed from exertion, like she'd just finished a marathon. "Did you get our messages?"

"Oh, uh…" Willow fumbled through his pockets for his communicator. The screen blinked with dozens of notifications. How had he missed so many? Had he fallen asleep without realizing it?

The Mystic trainer filled him in before he could open the myriad of messages. "Articuno is on the hospital roof, Professor."

Willow froze, thinking he'd misheard her. "Pardon?"

"Articuno, the legendary ice pokémon, is on the roof of the hospital." The trainer enunciated her words deliberately, as if she were talking to a child. "We've been trying to reach you. It's only been there for a few minutes, but it won't stop screaming. I'm astounded you can't hear it from here."

Willow touched his fingers to his aching temple as he digested the information.

"Professor… what do you think it means?"

Willow pushed back his chair and strode toward the door, the trainer jogging behind him to keep up.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling we'll find out soon."

§

Willow heard Articuno long before he saw it. As soon as he was outside of the lab, the scraping-glass, roaring-wind sound of the bird overwhelmed his senses. He and the Mystic trainer raced through town in his underused jalopy, careening through narrow streets and passing groups of citizens standing on the sidewalks in front of their homes and businesses, drawn outside by the cacophony.

He couldn't help but speculate about the bird's presence. Was it there to lead him to his assistants? Could he afford to hold out hope for such a thing? Perhaps Articuno was still searching for its brethren, and had returned to Trichroma Town to try to pick up the trail again.

Willow parked half on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, too busy craning his neck to see the roof to properly fit in the space. He spilled out of the car with the trainer hot on his tail and bolted for the hospital entrance. No one stood in his way as he ran for the stairs, unwilling to trust the elevator's speed. In fact, hardly anyone was in sight, either because they'd evacuated due to the proximity of a screeching legendary bird or because they were flocking to see the rare pokémon.

The trainer kept pace as Willow took the spiraling stairs two at a time, climbing the hospital floor by floor despite his burning lungs and legs. Articuno's cries filled the metal and concrete stairwell, fluctuating as the bird caught its breath and began again. The higher they went, the louder the noise.

At last, Willow burst through the roof access door. He paused to catch his breath as he came face to face with the pokémon he'd only heard legends of.

Articuno towered above the scattering of petrified doctors, nurses, and healing pokémon on the broad, flat roof. Its azure wings were extended, a warning for the humans to keep their distance. Between its thick, pristine plumage and the airy flow of its tail feathers, it hardly looked like a real creature. It swiveled its head toward Professor Willow, quieted for a moment, and then bellowed all the louder.

Its body language wasn't aggressive, and the cry was too shrill and constant to be an attempt at intimidation. This wasn't a pokémon preparing to attack. It was sending a message, and the message wasn't necessarily intended for the humans of Trichroma Town.

Willow cupped his hands over his ears and turned to the Mystic trainer. "I didn't get your name," he shouted above the scream.

"Maria," the trainer shouted back, her brown eyes squinting as if the noise hurt more than just the ears she'd plugged with her fingers.

"Maria! You should get out of here. It's not safe," Willow said.

Maria's dark brows furrowed. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help, Professor!"

She was a good trainer. Maybe too good.

"Has anyone contacted the leaders' families about this?" Willow asked, his voice raw from the volume required to communicate above Articuno's cry.

"I'm not sure."

Willow handed her his communicator. "Go downstairs and call the Violles and Mr. Kelvin. Urge them to come to the hospital if they're not already on their way."

"And the Voltas?" Maria asked as she took the device from him.

"Yes, if they bother picking up," Willow said.

Maria leaned forward. "What did you say?"

"Yes, call the Voltas, too," Willow shouted. "Quickly!"

Maria disappeared into the stairwell and Willow returned his attention to Articuno. Behind it, two small glimmers of light pierced the blue like morning stars, confirming Willow's suspicion. So, Articuno had been calling the others. His heart pounded with optimistic anticipation, but he knew he couldn't get ahead of himself.

"Get back, everyone!" he yelled to the paramedics and their chanseys.

They didn't need to be told twice. People and pokémon alike backed further away from Articuno, never taking their eyes off of the stunning pokémon. Several flinched at the sound of approaching thunder. Articuno closed its beak, and the absence of its cry left a ringing tone in Willow's ears.

The stars in the distance expanded into recognizable shapes as they drew closer. Zapdos led the way, a burst of black and yellow rocketing across the sky at an impossible speed. Further back, Moltres frantically pumped its blazing wings, trying against the odds to catch up to its cousin. Willow held his breath. This was the kind of sighting people dreamed of, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that crowded his chest.

Zapdos slowed as it approached, and a subsonic rumble radiated from it several seconds later with a heart-clenching intensity. A sonic boom? Had it flown faster than the speed of sound? Was that even possible for a pokémon? It kept one leg pulled tightly to its chest and touched down on the roof with the other. Willow speculated that it was injured and was keeping the wounded limb close to its body.

But then it lowered the other talon and placed something on the ground in front of it. Willow immediately recognized the tuft of blonde hair and the mangled remains of a black jacket. He ran forward without thinking, but no one made a move to stop him.

Zapdos stepped back as Willow dropped down next to Spark. Willow reached for him but stopped, paralyzed by Spark's unnatural stillness and gray complexion. Some primal defense mechanism in the back of Willow's mind activated. This isn't real. This isn't really him. This can't be my Spark.

He didn't resist as a tall nurse pulled him away from Spark's body. The world sounded muddled and distant, and though he thought he heard someone say his name, he couldn't reply to it. A familiar doctor stood above Spark, calling out instructions that Willow couldn't follow. Dr. Davies rolled up her sleeves as she spoke, the sweat shining on her deep brown skin, maybe from the heat, maybe from fear.

The concrete quaked beneath Willow's feet as Moltres landed next to Zapdos. Three legendary pokémon, all in one place, a miracle no one could afford to marvel at. Willow released a small, manic chuckle. How he used to dream of this, and how much he could learn by studying the birds up close. Now, he would trade anything never to see these harbingers of death again.

A few nurses lifted Spark's body, not waiting for a gurney to be deployed. A small group of them bore him away, but what good would it do? He was gone. Willow's nightmares had come to life before his eyes. His breath shuddered out of him as Moltres placed something down as well. He couldn't take this. He couldn't tolerate seeing them all so broken and empty.

But two figures climbed down from Moltres' back. A hypno, somewhat small and haggard, and…

"Candela," he croaked.

She heard him. Her head lifted and her ember-bright eyes met his. Candela smiled. Somehow, she smiled. Another wave of paramedics passed in front of her, gathering Moltres' cargo from the ground. A glint of moon-white hair and a filthy blue coat…

Willow jerked free of the men holding him and weaved his way through the small crowd, careful not to impede them but determined to make it to Blanche, even if he wasn't sure he was prepared to see them. Because he had to see them. He had to know.

He caught a twitch of their fingers as they were lifted up, and a warm relief blossomed in his chest. It wasn't much, but it was something. Willow staggered after the nurses who carried Blanche, intending to follow them, make certain they were cared for, help in any way he could, but a hand snagged his shoulder.

Professor Willow turned toward the fearlessly smiling leader of Valor. He pulled Candela into a tight hug, encircling her with his trembling arms. She was covered in cuts and bruises and patches of grime, her hair smelled like bonfire and sweat, and she wavered unsteadily in Willow's hold, but she was alive and whole, and he never wanted to let her go.

"It's OK, Professor," Candela said in his ear.

Willow held tighter, easing up only when Candela sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm serious," Candela said. She pushed him back a little, so she could look him in the eye. Willow took inventory of the scrapes and small burns across her face as she continued. "It's going to be OK. I know how bad it looks, but Blanche and Spark… they're going to be fine."

Willow grimaced. Maybe she didn't know. Maybe she was in shock. "Candela, you're hurt. Why don't you sit down, and the paramedics-"

She laughed, and the laugh turned into a cough.

"Please, Candela…"

"You have to listen to me," Candela said. "They're alive, they're both alive, and they're not going to die."

"But Spark-"

"Professor," Candela interrupted, her hoarse voice commanding, unyielding. "They won't die. I just know it. I think maybe I know it because Moltres knows it… The point is, you don't have to worry. Trust me." She paused and pursed her lips. "This must be how Spark feels, like, all the time."

Willow wanted to believe her. He'd learned over the years to trust Spark's insight, but the same "trust me" proclamations from Candela… He didn't know what to make of them. But he'd always trusted in Candela's passion. Even when the world looked grim, Candela was confident and optimistic. Sometimes it was hard to see past her spitfire personality and cocky demeanor, but Candela was the most grounded of the three leaders. Spark and Blanche spent too much time in their heads, playing out the worst possible scenarios. Candela wasn't like that. She didn't lose herself in the "what if." She approached the world head-on, courageous and clever and direct. Maybe she was worthy of a little more faith.

"I trust you, Candela," Willow said.

Candela's wild grin softened into something gentler. "Thanks, Prof."

She looked so much older than she had a week ago. It wasn't that she'd lost her youthful energy, that wasn't it at all. Her ferocious, unstoppable spirit was still there, but it seemed tempered and balanced in a way Willow had never seen in her before. For a moment, she looked like her mother.

"What happened?" Willow asked. "Where were you?"

But he was interrupted by a pair of medics as they rushed to attend to Candela's wounds. Willow stood back and found he was out of breath. He placed his hand over his heart and tried to feel at peace.

"I'll tell you everything, Professor, but not now," Candela said as she was guided away.

"I'll hold you to it," Willow said.

He remained where he was as Candela disappeared through a door into the hospital, followed by a wave of nervously mewling chanseys and the small, bedraggled hypno that had ridden with her. Then, there was only quiet.

The hospital roof was empty aside from Professor Willow and the three legendary birds. Willow could feel their eyes on his back. He turned toward them, his mouth dry, palms sweating. They took up so much space, not just because of their size. They had a grand presence about them and the air seemed to hum with their power. They were as still as statues aside from Moltres' undulating flames.

"Thank you for bring my family home," the professor said, unsure if they could even hear or understand him.

The birds dipped their heads, and Willow unconsciously took a step back.

His mind whirred with a million questions about the birds and the events of the past week, but he knew he could find no answer here. He'd waited for a long time, but he'd have to hold out for a bit longer. In the meantime, he had to trust in Candela and the chance that maybe things would be alright again.

He couldn't imagine what his life would be like if Candela was wrong.