Chapter Nineteen: My Name Is Fitzroy

"You humans are a dangerous species. You brought me into your world with no purpose but to be your slave. But now I have my own purpose. My storm will create my own world, by destroying yours." - Mewtwo, Mewtwo Strikes Back

(Fitzroy POV)

"Alex is a human," Dad explained to me for the thousandth time, "he isn't like you or me or Mom."

He was kneeling down to check the heat of the flames under the stove. He wasn't looking at me.

"He's a whole year older than me!" I said.

Then Mom, over her shoulder while wiping Alex's muck off the table, repeated the same thing she always said:

"Humans evolve very differently to Pokémon, Fizz."

"Stop calling me that," I warned her.

Dad chuckled as he straightened, looking down at his mediocre accomplishment with pride. He was a Charizard, yet he needed a flame and cauldron to cook. All because Alex was so precious about food.

"Sandy has dubbed thee Fizz, and Fizz thee shall remain."

"Sandy" was the nickname I'd given him when I was too young to pronounce his full name: Alexander. Months had passed and I now was now reading, writing, and annunciating, but Alex was still making gargling sounds.

"Good boy, Alex!" Mom cheered, raising the flower bouquets she had for hands into the air.

I turned to see what the commotion was about. The fat little thing had taken six steps in a row. Terrific. I'd mastered Metal Claw not two days earlier, and all I'd gotten was a pat on the back. But Alex toddles along half the length of our living room and it's cause for celebration.

"Look at those big strong legs!" Dad said, folding his arms and leaning back against the hot stove Alex had burned himself on last week. The crying had gone on for hours. "He'll be a runner yet, I'm sure."

"Astounding," I muttered.

"Alex is working very hard to learn to walk so he can keep up with you on your adventures," Mom said, crouching down to peer at the one-year-old human still struggling to stand. "Be patient with him, and he'll grow into the best big brother in the world."

I snorted. "Please, Mom. He may be older than me, but I'm the big brother here. He can't even talk yet!"

Then he jabbed a chubby finger at me and said: "Fizz!"

And my parents laughed.

Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You'll have a lot more fun with him once he learns to speak, I'm sure."

Things only got worse.

Mom and Dad had him sat on a stool in the kitchen area, feeding him little spoonfuls of honey in exchange for spitting out a few words. I sat by the table, lacquering the wooden "training sword" they'd given me as a bribe to stop me bringing home a real one. My longsword Bushfire was wrapped in hemp and buried in a hole in the ground, they hadn't found it yet. But I had to make it look like I was taking care of the dummy. Every now and then I whacked it against a rock or tree to get some good scratches in.

"Momma," they nodded along with every word, "Poppa…"

"Go on!" Mom said.

"Fizzroy!"

"Very good!"

Mom and Dad clapped.

The lacquer brush was clumsy in my thick claws. I'd just evolved into a Charmeleon at that point, while Alex was still, as Dad called him, a "toddler". There'd been no grand scene, no magical moment where suddenly the spitting, drooling, lying-in-a-crib Alex became the spitting, drooling, tearing-through-the-house Alex. It happened over many, many months. And yet he was still a child. I'd already evolved once out of the two times I would ever do so, and he hadn't even evolved into a creature capable of conversation.

"Charizar!" he pointed at Dad. "Roseray!" at Mom. "Fuman!" at himself.

"Don't forget your big brother!" Dad said, nodding his head to me.

Alex's pudgy lips struggled with the word for a moment.

"Charmeleon!" he threw his hands in the air. Mom and Dad cheered. Nails on a chalkboard.

"He's actually a fast learner," Dad said.

I slapped my brush on the table. "He's two years old! And he still can't talk like a real person!"

"Fitzroy—" Dad tried to interrupt.

"He can't even fight yet!"

Mom had the audacity to laugh in my face. "I'm not sure fighting is going to be Alex's thing. Humans tend be more…"

"Behind the scenes?" Dad suggested.

"They're more suited to assisting," Mom said. "To helping Pokémon grow, and learn, and develop in their own way. They're like teachers."

I laughed back at her. "Yeah, great, got any hot tips for my next match, big bro?"

Vacant eyes stared back at me.

"You have to stop thinking of Alex as a failing Pokémon," said Dad. "Because he's not a Pokémon, Fitz, he's something entirely different."

"Yeah, well, he's going to have to learn to defend himself at some point. He can't rely on us to do all the fighting for him."

Mom and Dad shared a look. They did that a lot when we talked about humans.

"When Alex gets old enough, he'll have Pokémon friends to take care of him," Mom said.

"And that includes you!" said Dad. "You'll be each other's best friend. You'll be partners. You'll travel far and wide, you'll see the world together. He should be ready to take off on his own in about, say, eight years?"

"Are you serious?! You can't just send him out into the wild like that, with no way of protecting himself! Do you know how easily humans bruise?!"

Mom and Dad shared another look. I felt a chill run through my tail.

Dad lifted up Alex's shirt, revealing the purple splotch across his stomach. Mom gasped.

Dad bared his teeth, as embers and growls escaped from his mouth. Alex stared up at him wide-eyed, as if he was the one in trouble. Dad came storming oner to me, and his fist was clenched and glowing.

"Would you like to know what it's like to be beaten up by someone bigger and stronger?!"

"Tajiri stop!" Mom held her arm out in front of him. Dad breathed heavily for a few seconds, chest rising up and down, embers falling onto the dirty wooden floor. He turned away with another short growl.

"I didn't even use a real attack!" I said. "It was just a backhand, but he started crying as soon as I touched him!"

Dad lifted up Alex's shirt again and pointed to the bruise. "This looks like more than a touch to me, boy!"

And Alex was staring at me, with those wide vacant eyes, completely indifferent to the whipping I was receiving.

"How many times have you done this?" Mom said, tears in her eyes now.

"It was just one time… I stopped as soon as he started bawling."

Dad ran a hand over his face. "He couldn't even explain to us what was happening…"

"It wasn't "happening", it was just one scrap! To see what he could do after being on this planet for two years."

"Alex hasn't been…" Mom began.

"What?"

They shared that look again. As if I had no idea what it meant. I knew very early on that Alex wasn't of this world. It was especially hammered in the dozens upon dozens of times Mom and Dad told me I must never, ever tell a living soul my brother was a human. I could have used it as leverage against them, but I never did, because I knew it was a sensitive topic, one that caused them both pain. Besides, what did it matter? Alex was my brother, whether either of us liked it or not.

"Alex's biological parents were our… closest friends."

My parents sat across from me, hands crossed over the table. When Dad paused to find the words, Mom looked at him like he was turning ill.

"I was his father's partner. Sunny was his mother's."

"They travelled the world," Mom said, "that's how they met each other, and how Tajiri and I met. After a few years they settled down in our— his mother and my— home town to start a family."

"They were both took jobs as law enforcers," Dad continued. "There was this gang, this gang of humans who controlled Pokémon, kept them against their will and forced them to do their bidding. Our partners were investigating them."

"They were trying to harness the power of a Legendary Pokémon," said Mom.

"Why?" I asked, incredulous.

"They wanted to create a new world."

The wind howled through the gaps in our ramshackle home.

"Aiden and Hinata were trying to stop them," said Dad. "We were both part of these teams, six Pokémon in each, with our humans leading us. We thought we were unstoppable. We thought we were going to save the world. But when the leader of this gang decided we were a big enough threat…"

"They came for Alex."

"They came for all of us"

Dad placed a hand on Mom's arm.

"We travelled to a mountain, the highest peak in the region. It was there the gang had found a weak spot in the space-time continuum. We knew it was the only way to lose them."

"So why aren't Alex's parents here?" I asked.

Neither of them said anything. There was no need. Mom straightened up and looked me in the eye.

"But it's the people who raise you who are your real parents. And that makes me yours and Alex's mother just as much as Tajiri is your father."

I frowned. "Wait… what?"

They both looked down at the table. Silent. Remorseful.

"You're not my Mom?"

An exasperated sigh. "Yes I am. I've raised you from an egg with my own two… you get what I mean."

I turned to Dad. There were tears in my eyes, I didn't care.

He cleared his throat. "Sunny isn't your… biological mother. If that were the case, you would be a Budew, or I guess a Roselia by now. But I am your father. Biologically. And in the real sense, as well."

I swallowed. "Then who's my real mother?"

Mom's petals rustled. "I am, Fitzroy."

"Okay, who's the Pokémon who shot my egg out of her—"

"Why do you want to know so badly?!"

I felt my tail flame flicker. "Maybe because you just told me I have family I didn't even know about."

"Because you're such a family-oriented person."

We sat in an icy room. Alex slept silently in his crib.

"If you don't think I'm your mother, you can run off to Grande City and find that wretched Charizard yourself! But I'm the best mother you'll ever have, and don't you forget that!"

I turned to Dad again, one last time, in some vain hope that the one true blood connection I had would mean something, anything. The Charizard looked me square in the eyes, and placed a hand on the Roserade's arm, as she cried silently into the other.

I turned and ran. They chased after me, but I used Smokescreen to hide myself. I'd gotten pretty good at it by then. I dug up Bushfire and took it with me.

I spent that night high up on Kaeru Hill, looking out over the white peaks of Grande Castle. I laughed to myself. Gods, what a nightmare. The one time I tried to look out for him, like I was always told I was supposed to…

Humans were stupid. I'd always known this. They were weak, well, that didn't take much figuring out. But those things I could forgive. Those weren't sins, they weren't crimes, they weren't a reason to punish a creature. But until then I'd never realised humans were cruel.

And until then, I'd never realised I was royalty. And everything changed from there. Everything changed, so, so, so fast.

"Ten years sounds like enough."

"No, Tajiri, that's far too young."

"Aiden was ten years old when he chose me. Hinata was nine when she was given you."

"This is not remotely the same kind of situation, you can't expect Alex to take responsibility for this by the time he's ten."

"So you're thinking more like… thirteen?"

Mom gave an exasperated laugh. I heard a chair scrape, a shuffle of leaves.

"What is it?" asked Dad.

"You're not going to like it."

"Tell me anyway."

"I think we should wait until he's twenty."

"Twenty?! Are you serious?!"

"Don't you snap at me. We need to wait until he's an adult, at least. And it'll give Fitzroy time to grow stronger, too."

I heard Dad groan.

"I just don't know if I can wait that long, Sun."

"But aren't we happy here? Didn't we build a good life together, despite it all?"

"I don't know if I can spend that long not knowing. We don't even know if they're alive. We can't even mourn them."

"Would you rather be mourning our son?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry. That was too far."

"No," Dad's voice was faint, "no, I see your point."

"Do you remember what you told Fitzroy? He's not a Pokémon. He's a human. You need to accept that he's going to take a long time to grow. If we try to rush him… it'll destroy him."

I heard Dad's claw scratch lightly across the table, the way he would when he acting nervous, or guilty, or both.

"Do you ever have… doubts?" he said. "About Fitz being Alex's partner? I know it's what we always planned…"

"I have doubts about every part of our plan. But I believe in him. He's strong, and he always stands up for what he believes in."

"What if he doesn't want to do it?"

She sighed.

"Then Alex will find someone else."

"What if Alex doesn't want to do it?"

"Well, wouldn't you?" Mom said, sounding almost amused. "This is the only way Alex is ever going to meet anyone else like him. It's the only way he'll ever get to see the world he came from."

The world he came from. My vision tunnelled, and my heart hammered against my chest, pounded in my brain. They were trying to find it. They were using Alex, using me, to get back there. To the place they almost died fighting to escape.

The human world.

A Charizard stares down at the human, asleep in his crib. His new one, the one they built for his three-foot-tall frame. Taller than a Charmander now. And it only took two and a half years. The Charizard laughs.

"What is it the Sea Guardians always say? One person can make all the difference."

He reaches for Bushfire, hanging from its blue-and-orange sheath.

"But you… You're no person."

Footsteps creak the tired floorboards behind him.

"Fitzroy?" comes a wary voice.

Even I don't know if I would have gone through with it. Could I really have pushed through the fear, the guilt, the grief? Could I have done something so monstrous, even in the name of protecting my world? Could I have been that brave? I like to think so. I like to think not. But when Dad walked into our bedroom and saw me with my sword in hand standing above his crib, I no longer had a say in the matter.

Already on the brink of being cast out from my home, I knew then I had nothing left in that hovel in Glory Hills, and when I saw the look on my father's face, the look of a parent ready to kill to save his child's life… that look as he stared into the eyes of his true son.

I swung my sword at him. He caught it by the blade in the glowing blue claws of a scaled dragon. He didn't take his eyes from me as he twisted it away and tossed it aside. I felt an electric shock of fear. My father came roaring at me, and I had to catch his Dragon Claw in my own to block him. We wrestled with one another, head-to-head, our horns rattling against one another. He was pushing me backwards.

I sank my Fire Fangs into his throat. He howled and dug his own into my shoulder. We shook at one another, he tossed me to the left, I tossed him to the right, then used the momentum to drop to the ground and grab my sword. On both knees, I managed to turn around in time to counter my father's Flamethrower with my own. The heat roared through the small room, and Alex gave an ear-splitting cry of distress. Even from afar a Charizard's flame was far too much for him.

Tajiri's eyes moved instinctively to the child. The things parents sacrifice for the love of their children. Bushfire slid through Dad's chest. I felt the beat of his heart through the handle. Then I felt his heavy body dragging the sword and I to the ground.

Alex was screaming, screaming louder than I'd imagine a creature that small could. I rolled my father over with my sword and yanked it out. I raised it into the air. Then I felt thorny vines wrap around my neck, my wrists, pulled me backwards, slamming me against the wall. In a blur Mom stood between my brother and I, eyes on fire.

Poison was seeping into me, a sickly prickly feeling running through flesh and blood. I tried to summon fire but it was caught in my throat. I couldn't move my sword hand. So I clawed at her with the other, ripping the vines away until she pulled them back. From both bouquets came a cloud of white-and-blue powder. How many times had that Roserade used Sleep Powder when I refused to go to bed on time?

I crossed my wings over my body, folded them at exactly the right angle so the powder fell uselessly to the ground. Mom's eyes widened. What she and Dad didn't know was that I'd been training against Pokémon with the same moves for months, learning to defeat them. I never wanted it to be this way. I thought when I told them I would put Alex to bed, that they could finally trust me with him and enjoy a night to themselves, that they believed me. But of course they would come to make sure their false son was safe.

Flamethrower sucked the air from the room. Mom spread her arms wide, taking the full brunt of it. Alex wailed behind her. The flames faded to ember to ash. Mom stood upright, remarkably strong. This was going to be tougher than I'd expected. I raised my sword, white-hot from being held by my tail. Vines came shooting at me. I sliced through them like butter.

Mom grabbed the bars of the crib and lifted herself up to kick me in the chest. I stumbled backwards. I slashed at her, cutting a red line through her green body. Still she kept fighting. She wrapped her arms around me, using all her weight to slow me down. The stumps of vines dug into my skin, and Giga Drain sapped very slowly at my energy. I raised my sword. She kicked it out of my hand. So I sunk my burning fangs into her collarbone and tossed her aside. She crashed against Alex's toy cabinet, raining down the blocks Dad had carved on top of her. The soft Wooloo-wool blanket Mom had made. The plush Charmander toy I'd won for him at the fair he couldn't go to, because we needed to keep his identity secret until he was ready to defend himself. Or until I was ready to defend him.

I bent down and picked up my sword.

I felt weak hands grasping at me. I batted them away. Then they grabbed at the joints connecting my wings to my back, that pressure point, and my body gave out.

Dad climbed on top of me. His blood trickled down my back as I struggled underneath his weight. He gasped something out, trying to say something to me, or to Mom, or to Alex. The only sound was this: "Son". Or "Sun". I honestly don't know

Flamethrower caught quickly on the dried wood and leaf and moss of our mottled green-and-brown home. Red flames swallowed it whole and black smoke rose to the sky. I flicked out my tail, spread my wings, and let out a mighty Charizard roar. I tossed my father's limp, heavy body aside as Mom ran from the blaze with a squalling Alex nestled in her arms. I flapped my wings and broke through the room.

Mom's feet sunk deep into the thick layers of snow as I watched from the sky. I would be on her within moments. I could feel the fire building in my she turned and ran towards the winter flame bushes. Clever, but I could still hear the foolish child crying. Then he stopped, quite suddenly. Sleep Powder, I suspected.

So I set the bushes on fire. Mom turned and ran for the river. She hopped onto a confused Arctovish's back, holding on their neck with a stunted vine. My wings beat a gale against them. They were strong enough to beat her Sleep Powder back at her if she dared try it. Fire roared from my throat. Mom clutched Alex tight and turned off the Arctovish's back and sunk under the water.

She emerged onto the bank a few moments later, clutching a white bundle to her chest. She was running for the trees. She wasn't running fast enough.

She looked up at me once more as I descended on her. She closed her eyes, and, bravely in my opinion, accepted her face.

I could have set them both on fire, but I was not cruel; I would spare them both a painful death if I could. I unwrapped the white bundle, and cursed as I chucked the stone inside into the trees. I looked to the reeds. To the river, flowing through the forest, in the direction of the mountains.

I searched for the boy. North, south, east and west, all across Itori. I searched feverishly, growing more and more desperate as the days went on. In an inn located in the Range Region, one of the nicer taverns at that, I cautiously sent out a feeler: had anything strange happened in the past few months? I got plenty of answers, but none that gave me anything to work with. Not one mention of the human. I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief. The boy was dead. He must be. Even if someone had found him, there was no way they could have kept him a secret. The child was too bloody loud!

I thanked my fellow patrons, tipped the surly old Chesnaught at the bar, and headed up to my room. I locked the door behind me, lay down on a thick straw bed (nowhere near as comfortable as the feather mattress Dad had made for me and placed next to Alex's crib), curled up into a ball, and cried myself to sleep.

My next task was obvious. Find out who my real mother was.

"If you don't think I'm your mother, you can run off to Grande City and find that wretched Charizard yourself! But I'm the best mother you'll ever have!"

I could still hear her voice in my ear.

Clearly it was either Princess Princess Topaz, heir to the throne of Itori, or Princess Octavia, her younger sister. All I knew was that one of them had some fling with Tajiri, then abandoned us both days before I hatched, choosing duty over love. What a quaint story.

But if that throne was my destiny by blood, I was not about to let sentimentality stand in the way of it. I moved to Grande City and took up work in the forge. I was never much good with heavy objects, but a Charizard's boulder-melting firepower was always welcome. My name was Masahiko Tsukuda. My friends called me Masa. I told everyone to call me that.

I toiled away in that noisy, black, grimy place for three long years, making as many friends as I could in the city, striking up conversations with strangers in taverns, too drunk to remember they'd ever met me, asking about the king, the princesses, about the possibility of a young prince.

And then there he was. It was all great fanfare. King Wilhelm had sent invite to all the Pokémon of Grande City, to a ceremony to be held at the base of Grande Castle. We were guided to the balcony where a red carpet had been rolled out. I went with my friends from the forge. I never missed a social event unless it were tactically prudent. I needed loyalty, and loyalty requires presence.

When he stepped out onto the balcony, I didn't want to believe it. I felt a sickly mix of shock, horror, rage, with quiet whisperings of relief.

"For the past 140 years," King Wilhelm's deep voice echoed across the plaza, "we have strived to build our new World from the ashes of the old. Some old souls may still remember the day we split apart from the ones we shared our the land, sea, and sky with. Now at long last the barrier between our two universes has began to open again. The Gods have graced us with a connection, a bridge. A champion. With him comes a new era for Pokémon and humans. Please welcome the newest member of the royal court: Alex Albion!"

He stepped out onto the red carpet, followed by two Charizard I didn't recognise. At first the crowd reacted with stunned silence. Then a hundred voices muttered in a hundred ears. Then those with the Skarsgard flame emblazoned on their clothing dutifully clapped and cheered, and soon the crowd began to join them. Alex waved his chubby little hands and waved, giggling at the sight of hundreds of Pokémon looking up to him, cheering for him, bowing to him.

"Masa?" my friend Neo the Braixen said. "What's wrong?"

"Woah, look, I know this is overwhelming, buddy," said Markus the Pignite, "but there's no need to cry about it."

Alex was alive. It had all been for nothing. My parents were dead, and it had all been for nothing.

What an affair it had been. So many Pokémon there to gaze at this new wonder of the World. What a spectacle. What a fucking disgrace.

But in a way it was good for me. Because it was then, as my tears dried and my body ceased to tremble, that I realised I really was destined to become king.

I stared up at the boy, with his wide smile and his hand in the air, waving down the Pokémon cheering for him. The look in his eyes, as he stood above them all, with all that power in his chubby little hand. I'd realised long ago my destiny was to rid the world of his kind. To stop us repeating the mistakes they made. To protect us from the Human World. And there was the Human, standing in my place.

It took a year. I gathered a small army. 150 or so. But with friends on all six floors of Grande Castle, it was more than enough. I fed them all kinds of motivation:

Stopping the human corrupting the World, overthrowing the Skarsgards, revenge for harsh sentencing or long and cruel imprisonments, justice for the Polar Region, just plain hooliganism; whatever their reason for rebelling, they were all united as one.

I'd made plenty of friends in the Skarsgard army, among the guardsmon. I was a blacksmith, Smith Fern's second-in-command by that point, how could I not have? Climbing the ranks in Grande city was no hard task; not when you were a Charizard, a cunning planner, a powerful warrior. And a ruthless bastard.

All was going well. I had replaced almost half of Wilhelm's closest guards with my own. Until I made the mistake of befriending that one fuck-up, I don't even remember his name. That Dancer Marowak who tried to recruit his sister. They ended up fighting to the death, killing one another in the battle that followed. A bath of blood and fire.

King Wilhelm led the charge and was one of the first to die. I still remember looking down at the pooling blood as I stepped over my grandfather's body. My heart ached with remorse, but I hardened myself, thinking of the lives I would save in the long-run.

"This moment of sorrow will bring a century of joy."

The words fell out of my mouth. My soldiers assented as they stepped over the bodies of their comrades, their neighbours. They had my sympathy. I knew exactly how they were feeling.

Topaz's solar. Scarlet reds and sparkling golds. Everything so clean, so polished, everywhere you looked. I grew up in a hut with a leaky roof.

Sunlight streamed through windows tinted red-and-gold. A round mahogany table with four matching chairs stood off to the side. Against the eastern walls was a bulbous velvet-cushioned bed, complete with silk hanging drapes the same shade as the straw I'd slept on as a child. On the floor was a plush carpet patterned with the image of Moltres, the God of Fire.

I gazed around the cabinets and shelves. Princess Topaz was a fan of exotic oddities, it seemed. A feather cape formed from every form of Oricorio. A precious ruby held in place by in glossy green vines made of metal. Coloured-sand art depicting an idyllic beachside resort. A dreamcatcher hung with feathers the seven colours of the rainbow. A Wartortle-tail charm. A sundial engraved with twenty-four Pokémon.

I ran my fingers over the face of the sundial. Smooth, warm to the touch. I took my hand away to read the shadow. Just past the Cherrim's hour.

Voice were getting louder. There was no time to waste. I drew Bushfire from my sheath, hid it under the Oricorio cape, and ran a string across the floor. I pressed it down into the folds of the plush rug so it wouldn't be visible. Just as I was straightening up, the door opened, and in she came.

"Hi Mom."

Princess Topaz closed her eyes and let out a long sigh of grim acceptance. She knew who I was.

The door clicked shut behind her.

"I'm not your mother."

I felt my wings wilt.

"Yes you are," my voice wavered, "I know who I really am. I know who I was meant to be!"

She puffed air out of her nose, dismissive. "No one was meant to be anything, Fitzroy. We are what we are, and then we aren't. That's just the way it is."

"Lies. I am the heir's son, I was meant to be king. This is my birthright."

"You had a much better birthright by Tajiri," the Princess said. "A normal life. Good care. A loving family, free from bitterness, spite, and jealousy."

All I could do was laugh.

"Dad wanted me to be Alex's partner," I said, "that's why he kept this hidden from me, isn't it?"

"Trust me, you would have been much happier."

I roared, and flames escaped my mouth.

"I am sick and tired of my life being dictated by him! I. Am. Your. Son!"

"I gave birth to you. But they raised you. Sunny and Tajiri are your parents."

"Not anymore."

Fool as I was, driven by emotion. With just two words I'd given it away. Suddenly, the Charizard's demeanour changed.

"Where's Tajiri?" she asked.

"He's…" I swallowed. "He left me. So did Sunny. So much for leaving me in good care."

Her face hardened in an instant. "You're lying."

I felt my sword hard twitch. Topaz's jaw set, and her voice dropped an octave.

"Where is he? What happened to Tajiri?"

I was losing control yet again. I didn't want the situation to escalate. If I could talk her around, no one else needed to get hurt. I could spare her.

"What did you do to him?" her voice was a low rumble. "What did you do to her?"

A loud bang on the door, the sound of a body hitting wood. I remained silent.

Dragon Breath came roaring through the room, its blue fangs tearing into my wing neck as I thrashed and struggled and choked.

"Mom!" I cried, holding out my hand to hurt.

Foolishly, she hesitated. My Flamethrower cut through the air. She crossed her wings over her body, defending herself. I drew my sword. She picked hers off the table. But Princess Topaz was an archer, far less skilled with a blade than I. Our swords clashed once, twice, a third time, then with an uppercut and a swing of the tail it went flying from her hand. I drew my sword back. Air Slash cut me across the wrists and Bushfire clattered to the ground.

"Fight me like a Pokémon," Topaz demanded.

"I'll fight you like a winner," I said, then lunged for my sword.

Dragon Breath struck me in the side and knocked me into the table.

Sunlight streamed through the window, and I saw beads of it gather at the base of Topaz's tail, bright yellow light forming in her throat.

For a moment, it looked like the sun had fallen from the sky to shine inside the castle walls. I felt my skin searing, felt like the light piercing my eyelids, black spots oozed across my vision. The Heat Wave faded away in beads, and I lay on my hands and knees, gasping for air.

I looked up. We locked eyes.

Our Flamethrowers burst free at the same time. The heat made the room simmer. Paper caught fire and curled into black ash. An even match. After a few moments nothing but embers remained between us, drifting to that lovely plush carpet.

We stood for a minute, maybe more, catching our breath.

"I'm sorry, Fitzroy."

My eyebrow twitched.

"I thought I was saving you from this place, I thought you would be happy living with your father, but I shouldn't have expected you to understand why."

"That's not what this is about," I said calmly. "Yes, I wanted to meet you. Yes, I wanted answers; of course I did, who wouldn't? But at the end of the day this is about one thing: stopping Alex."

She looked equal parts amused and confused. "Alex?" almost a laugh. "Moltres, why? What possible threat could Alex be to you?"

"You can't possibly imagine."

Topaz looked past me, out the window. The sounds of construction drifted in, stone scraping against stone, builders barking orders, nails hammering into wood.

"You're not going to make the difference you want to make like this. We've been building this world for 141 years, you think you're going to turn all that around in a day?"

"I can try."

"You can. You did. And people died for it."

I tensed my muscles, ready to defend myself again, but Topaz's voice was calm.

"It doesn't have to be like this. If you just listen to what Alex has to say, I'm sure you'll see he's a good person. We can work with him, not against him." My mother reached out her hand to me. "We can find another way."

She took a step forward. Her foot snagged the string on the ground, and the trap went off. A quiet twang. Topaz froze. She looked down at the bolt through her heart.

"Well that was stupid of me, wasn't it?" Then, she chuckled. Shook her head. "I really should have seen that coming."

Blood dripped down her chest, down her stomach, onto the face of Moltres on the floor. Sunlight streamed in through the window, dappling her face. The princess smiled.

"It's a beautiful day outside."

Then she collapsed to the ground. I reached out and closed her eyes. I hoped poor Octavia wouldn't be the one to find her. I opened the windows. Right before I left I noticed the Royal Stamp sitting on her desk. I pocketed it then stepped onto the ledge, ready to make my escape. I left them open wide, so she could rest lying in the warmth of the sun.

Washed up on the beach. Tired, wet, cold, and alone. And irritated by the coarse sand. I thought to myself, this is truly my lowest moment.

The waves hissed. The salty air tickled my nose as I lay splayed out on the sand like the Staryu. Krabby feet clicked along the cliff walls. Bubbles shone over the sea.

I looked to my left, and saw a Swampert looking down at the ground, arms behind his back. He turned. We locked eyes.

"You look rough," he said.

I looked away.

"Oh, come now. I was only making conversation."

I heard a shifting in the sand.

"Ford Finley. Pleasure to meet you." He waited. "Do you have a name of your own? Or were your parents that cruel to you?"

I got to my feet.

"My name is Fitzroy."

"Be careful as you step," Ford called back without turning around, "those swords are deadly."

Brown land streaked with murky yellow. Grey dust, red rust. The dry earth crumbled beneath our feet as walked past shells of decaying armour, chipped and broken weaponry, the occasional rot-yellow bone lying in the dirt. Metal shrapnel illuminated only by the glow from my tailfire.

I felt something blunt and rusty slice across the sole of my foot. I roared and stumbled backwards, very nearly impaling myself on the sword sticking out of the ground behind me.

"I told you to be careful."

The wind howled through the gaping open mouth of a skull so wind-beaten I couldn't even tell what poor creature it had once belonged to. I reached down and closed its mouth. Empty eyes stared back at me. As much life inside them as there'd been in my father's, right before I burned down our home. People were dead because of me. For a moment I felt a dizzying sensation spread from my chest up to my head, and I almost stumbled over again. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. No. This would not break me. The more it hurt, the better. It would strengthen my resolve still further.

I will not let the lives I sacrificed be in vain.

The path at last led us to a gargantuan, imposing, and rather hideous grey steel temple of rounded symmetric designs. The Gamma Shrine. My feet were cool against the metal steps. Impeccably smooth, untouched surfaces clashed against the rust and decay all around us. I looked up at the funnelled arches, the bannisters, the intricate carving along the doorframe. Thousands upon thousands of years old, Ford claimed, yet they looked shining brand new. What the hell was this place made of?

It was quite a heave to get one of the giant double doors open, even for the two of us combined. We had to squeeze ourselves through. Ford kept walking, but I couldn't bear the screech of the wind through the crack in the door. Though it took some time, I closed it myself.

My flame was the only source of light (not that we'd had much coming in from the outside, anyhow). I followed the sound of Ford's footsteps down the corridor. Midway I passed through a high-ceilinged vault containing nothing but a large brass bell, hanging still from the ceiling. I craned my head up as I passed under. The inside seemed to go on and on, a bottomless well of darkness, hanging upside-down in space.

Finally we came to the main attraction. A vast room, walls decorated with geometric designs, fluted steel pillars, grates along the far wall, beyond which lay only darkness. But the star attractions were the rough iron murals bulging from the walls.

"It's said this whole temple was created from an ancient form of magic," Ford explained, hands behind his back in the way he always stood, eyes moving lackadaisically around the room as they always did, not matter what wonder of the world we found ourselves in front of.

I ran my finger along the edge of one of the murals. "Looks to me like it was made from metal."

The Swampert chuckled. "You must learn to look beyond the surface of things, Roytoy."

Hah! The poor fool had no idea.

But neither, it turned out, had I.

I let my gaze wander around the room with feigned interest. I was far more curious about what Ford had assured me was there. The rest, I thought, was just trappings, elaborate decor meant to curry favour with their deity, or a flashy display to convey the idea that their God, above all others, was the greatest of all. Excessive. Worthless.

Then it caught my eye. The sculpture, flat against the wall, blending in with the rest of the mural around it, suddenly hung before me as if surrounded by a halo of light in the dark room.

A sphere serrated by fang-like lines. Dots forming what looked like the letter "Y". Where another might have had arms, instead this Pokémon was flanked by a dragon's head split in half. The lower jaw had a smooth underside and jagged fangs. The upper half looked bizarrely like…

My hand hovered in the air a moment before my fingers gently brushed their beautiful, chiselled face. The one masquerading as an arm. That was the moment the epiphany came.

This was a God, I knew by instinct. A God with a Charizard's face. We had been made in their image, the image of Regidrago. It was in that moment I knew I'd been born a Charmander for a reason.

We were the children of God.

"Fitzroy," came the Swampert's impatient call.

I prickled. But I swallowed my pride and followed his voice. Like it or not, I needed him. Ford nodded to the steps leading up to a set of large doors, wrought with the same intricate stylistic patterns that gave the mural its flair. Built into them was a large mirror, roughly the size of my whole body, split in half by the gap between the doors; Ford on one side, me on the other. Reflecting my face back at me. For a moment, I saw my father.

Without thinking, a placed a hand against my cheek.

"Moved?" Ford asked.

"Why are we here?"

"We're here to confess."

I frowned at him. "Confess?"

"I learned this from one of the healers of the Smith Guardians. The "how" of it is of no importance." It never was. "We kneel before the mirror and confess our sins, and if we speak truthfully, we are allowed to pass."

"And if we don't?"

Ford pointed to the ceiling, and it was then I saw the sharp blade of the guillotine hanging there. I felt a thunderbolt of fear.

I couldn't die here. If I died here, all the pain and destruction left in my wake would be for nothing.

"Anything weighing on your chest," Ford said as he walked past me, "I suggest you rid yourself of it now."

He stepped up to the dais and knelt between the two pillars. He rested his hands on his thighs and bowed his head.

"All throughout my time in this world," he began, "I have been a liar. I deceived Lord Fortunato Finley into taking my in as his son. I deceived him into thinking I was a real Mudkip, I made him believe I was his true and loyal son."

I listened with growing interest. I'd known about Ford's family for some time, but in all the years I'd known him, I'd never had an inkling that the pompous young Pokémon hadn't come from blue blood.

Hang on. A "Real Mudkip"? What did that mean?

"I lied to my two most loyal subjects. I discovered a secret they shared, one that should never have been mine, and twisted it against them for my own benefit. I led one to believe she was a human, and hid his true nature from the other."

My heart jolted. A human? One of Ford's subjects was a human?! I felt a hot serpent of rage twisting in my belly. How could he not tell me?!

"I did so to manipulate them, so I could take advantage of this when the time came to use this knowledge for my own benefit. I used their own bond against them. I coddled my son."

I blinked through the whiplash those words brought.

"I raised him soft and malleable. I raised him to have the kind and loving nature that Pokémon so love to follow, but left him insecure and needy enough that he would never fail to kneel to me. I could never compare to him when it came to compassion or kindness, so I turned it into a tool that would fit my own hands."

Of all people on earth, I could hardly call myself a family Pokémon. I knew I had no grounds to judge him on. However what I did, I did out of necessity, and I took no pleasure in it. But Ford…

There was something disturbingly akin to pride in his voice. This was meant to be a confession, and it was beginning to sound triumphant.

"Lastly… I deceived my closest friend."

The clamour in my head stopped.

"I hid my true origin from him, fearing he would never trust me otherwise. Fearing he would react the way so many do when I reveal that I used to be a human."

Emptiness.

Ford got to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Fitzroy," Ford said without turning around. "I've known for some time how you felt about humanity. But let me assure you. I do not intend to repeat the mistakes of my kind. I, like you, believe a better world is possible, but it is only with great personal sacrifice that such a thing is possible. That is why we are here today."

The anger and the betrayal climbed into my skull, a wild thing that threatened to ignite the spark in the back of my throat. I screwed up my eyes and swallowed it. Ford was right. I had sacrificed so much already, so much that was never mine to give. I would not let my own pride or hurt stand in the way of my noble mission.

I couldn't look at him as he stepped down from the dais. There were tears in my eyes, I only prayed he did not see them.

"Your turn," came his voice from beside me.

I took the human's place.

I knelt, hands on my knees, bowed my head and closed my eyes. I had to switch myself off to bring the words forth. It wasn't embarrassment; I certainly was not going to feel ashamed of myself in front of a human. But bringing those memories forth again was more than I could bear for long, so I let them pour out of me, a steady red faucet.

"I left my home, I left all my friends and family behind, I never told them I was leaving or explained why."

I could see Ford's reflection in the mirror. "How quaint," that smile seemed to say.

"I let greed consume me, let ego corrupt me; my own hubris has led other people to their deaths."

Ford raised his eyebrows and nodded: "Keep going."

"I pretended to be someone I wasn't. I used people, and I broke bonds closer than blood. I killed my grandfather in battle the day I met him."

His eyes widened. His pitying smile had vanished. From the mirror, I watched with ugly satisfaction as I spoke, as horror traced lines across his face.

"I murdered my parents as they fought to protect their child, my infant brother. I started a war to track the boy down, then set a trap to kill the person who gave birth to me, left an unprepared princess in charge, put the whole Kingdom through grief and turmoil."

His mouth hung open, arms limp at his sides. I pretended I didn't see him. I stood, satisfied that I had confessed enough.

The guillotine slid away, and the door opened.

"Let's go," I said.

Ford hesitated a moment before following me. It was the first time I'd ever seen him scared.

The next room was circular, with latticed metal work forming two rings; one just by the walls, the other surrounding an enormous anvil in the middle of the room. Six bronze statues stood sentry around it: Aggron (with the Mega Evolution symbol carved on the floor), Kingambit, Klinklang, Magnezone, Duraludon, and Melmetal.

Our tinny footsteps echoed in the empty space. I heard the sticky slapping of Ford's flipper-feet on the metal floor. There were hollows in the walls, leading down to circular panelling on the floor, the outer edge a slanted striped pattern. Between them, the walls were decorated with elaborate bronze-and-silver artwork. Bronze were the depictions of an army of Pokémon, led by the six steel-types surrounding us. Silver were the six Legendary Pokémon; there, on my right, was Regidrago, their great dragon's maw stretched open, some fiery power roiling inside.

And there were the others: on the left, Regirock, slamming their arms on the ground, a great tower of boulders rising up behind them. Regice, arms spread wide, turning roiling hills into crystal peaks of ice. Registeel's artwork was odder. Their arms were raised in a W-shape, surrounded by what looked like three waterfalls. Odd.

On the right hand side Regieleki hovered beside their dragon-type equivalent, riding on a cloud bellowing thunder and lightning. Regigigas stood just beyond, clutching long thin objects that trailed into the ground, into the floor. That's when I noticed the pattern on the outer ring of the floor looked like rope.

I gave the artwork a puzzled frown. If the six Gods were wrought in silver, then who would be…

Ford's head was craned to the ceiling. I looked up and saw them, immortalised in gold on the ceiling. Ah. Of course.

"Many Pokémon I've spoken to don't even believe they exist," said my partner.

"Do you?"

"Oh yes. And that's why we're not taking any more from this place than we have to."

I raised my eyebrows. "You're afraid of them?"

Ford's eyes met mine, icily serious. "You'd be a fool not to fear a thing that could wipe you from the earth in the blink of an eye."

I couldn't argue with that.

I nodded to the walls. "Any idea what those hollows are for?"

Ford responded by pulling a hammer out of his items bag. Or at least it looked like a hammer. But up close I saw that it was in no state to be forging anything. It was a relic, an old one, decorated with whorls across the head and criss-cross patterns across the handle.

"How on earth did you convince them to let you borrow that?"

Ford laughed. "Define "convince" for me." He extended his arm. "Here. Take it."

I gingerly took the relic in both hands.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "it won't hurt you."

"I'm more worried about me breaking it."

"With those bulging muscly arms all Charizard are known for?"

"Muscle you in a minute," I muttered.

Ford held up his hands. "Hey, I don't doubt it. But take a step back for a moment. And hold onto that thing tightly."

I did as he asked. For a moment, as we joked with each other, all thoughts of his humanity had slipped to the back of my mind.

Ford flexed his huge Swampert's arms and said: "Leave the lifting up to the real heavies."

Then he raised them above his head and slammed them against the ground so hard my heart jumped with fear they would break. Instead the ground rocked beneath our feet, and I was knocked onto my behind on the hard steel ground. With the precious relic clutched precariously in my claws, I had only my tail to cushion my fall.

"You could have warned me!" I yelled.

"Where's the fun in that?"

The shock died down but the earth kept shaking. The horrible sound of metal scraping, as the panels on the floor slid back into the wall. Something was rising slowly up from each empty space. I got to my feet, spread my wings and summoned fire to the back of my throat. There was no need.

"Barrels?"

"Well don't sound too thrilled," Ford said.

Six of them in all. His strong hands cracked the lid off one. I peered inside.

"Silver Powder?" I dipped a hand in, rubbed the stuff between my fingers. "Is this some Giant Durant's sanctum?"

I dusted my hands, but a faint silver had tainted the skin.

"That's never coming off," Ford said.

It never did.

"I've been here twice before," he said, and I frowned. When? Was it before we met, or after? He'd never told me this. "At first it was all I could do to get inside. I spent hours in here alone, searching for any way to get further in. At some point I saw a faint glow coming from beneath the anvil, but it led nowhere. I had one of the Earthspringers interrogate a Smith Guardian for more information. After that, I came with Mikey."

"Mikey?" The runt Treecko he'd hired as a scout, I'd assumed out of pity?

"That time I came a lot closer. It was undeniable then; there was magic in this place, magic only a human soul could penetrate. But it still wasn't enough. We need one more." He chuckled. "Think of it. Only three living souls, and it's enough to bend the Gods to our will."

I felt a shiver race down my spine. By that point I'd mastered the art of not showing my emotions; or at showing just the right ones. I wore a mask of awed admiration, Ford Finley's favourite face to see on another: "Incredible…"

"But in the meantime," he continued, "Mikey's friend Evie - the Eevee - managed to find this."

"But what is it?"

He turned to me as a slimy grin stretched across his face.

"Silver water."

I felt a shiver from the back of my neck to the tip of my tail. My face was stone. I suppressed the urge to swallow until he turned to re-seal the barrel.

"Once we have the third human we can awaken Registeel. The trouble is, that human happens to be in the personal guard of the Queen. Who I'm guessing might not be your biggest fan."

His tone was playful, but there was discomfort underneath.

"That will prove difficult," I said, "the boy can be rather… wilful."

"He's the only one left, friend. Hell, we may even convince him to join us."

"I have an in with the Varias," he went on, "Connie's heard tell that the human's gotten quite close with them. We could even use Ruby Forest as leverage."

"If that doesn't work, we could just kidnap him."

"A little inelegant, but if it comes to that, yes. Save us convincing him to come here of his own accord."

He glanced over his shoulder at me.

"How much do you know about the third human?" he asked.

"A little. He's around ten, right? Old enough to fight, I assume."

Ford threw his head back and laughed. "A few years off there, friend. Oh, lord. And he's twelve, to be exact. Far too young to be sent to war, but old enough to be taught how to hold a sword. We won't have to be cautious of him."

It was my turn to laugh. "How much does a Pokémon need to worry about a human, sword or none?"

Ford thought for a moment. "I guess it depends what kind of human he ends up becoming."

On our way back the gears began to turn. I knew the mural I'd seen in the outer room would be burnt into my brain forevermore. How I would go about finding more without Ford's knowledge was still a mystery. How I would get my hands on Alex was a riddle more complex still. I knew only one more thing of importance: I could not let the power of the Gods fall into a human's hands. The results would be apocalyptic. Now, to be clear, it was never my assumption that all humans were evil. Ford himself proved to be a friend like no other I'd ever known. At one point, I'd considered him like a brother. And in my lifelong quest for irony, you can imagine how happy it made me to find out he was a human.

No, I do not believe they are inherently evil. But they are slow. They are weak. And they are stupid. The Gods gave their power to Pokémon for a reason. A human simply would not know how to handle them. Ford may have been competent enough in his Swampert-like form, but there was no way come hell or high water I was letting him try his hand at playing God. And the legend on the walls had proven it without a shadow of a doubt. The Gods had their favourites. We had been modelled in their very image. If any laymon on mortal earth was destined to wield this kind of power, it would be a Charizard.

"You're awfully quiet," the human in a Swampert's body said.

"You've given me a lot to think about," I said without looking at him. We walked across barren land scattered with the fallen remains of a thousand brave soldiers.

I felt his eyes boring into me. "A problem shared is a problem halved, Roytoy."

"You're a human," I said with a breezy tone of voice.

"I was a human," Ford said pointedly, "now I'm as much of a Pokémon as you."

A felt a blade of anger through my heart. "You have a human soul."

"Perhaps. But don't see that as a negative. It's a useful tool; indispensable, even."

I had to concede there. It seemed humans were of some use to us. They had to be, why else would the Gods have made them? But they were made to serve us. Not the other way around.

"How did it happen?" I asked.

"I have no absolutely no idea." He threw his head back and laughed. I used to love that laugh. "I have no memories of being a human. Only the knowledge of it."

A spark of hope. "So you don't know for sure that you are-"

"Only a human soul could have opened those doors," he cut over me, "that's proof beyond doubt."

Extinguished.

"How long ago?" I asked.

"Forty-five years. I woke up in a Mudkip's body by a riverbank in Fool's Gold Marsh, less than a mile from Great Cedar Cabin. I was found by Lord Fortunato Finley himself, if you can believe it. It felt like fate. Hah. I suppose you're not one to believe in that kind of thing, are you?"

"Do you know what?" I said, feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I think I just might be."

"When Lord Finley heard my story; when he saw I was a civilised Pokémon without a liege or even a family to herald back to, he took me in. Within a year, I was legally adopted into the family."

"He made you his heir just like that?!"

"Not quite. I've told you about my brother?"

He nodded.

"Spencer's actually a few years older than me. Well, older than I'm supposed to be. Given my total ignorance of the world I woke up in, I'd told Father- Fortunato, that I was only eighteen days old. If my memory serves me correctly, I was actually eighteen years. But Spencer was born two years before I arrived, so ostensibly, he is my elder.

"He's a smart Pokémon, but soft. He simply doesn't engage in battle, which is unthinkable for a Lord, no matter how small their land. I wondered what I would have to do with him when the time came to take control of the Golden Marshes; dispose of him, I suppose.

"But he stepped down. He's now the official criminal court reporter of the Clifflands Region. Far from prying eyes and probing questions, I suppose. Coward though he might be, he's wise."

I nodded along. I knew he was talking out of his ass. He would never have had the stomach to dispose of his brother. He was saying it to appease me, to hide his disgust at what I'd confessed. To make me think he was like me, lower my guard. No, Ford. You're not dirty a brother-killer. That sin lies within my soul alone.

"You never told me," I said.

"It wasn't relevant."

"Not relevant?!"

I saw another flash of fear in his eyes. I felt movement beneath the earth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. It's just… a shock."

"I understand," he said. "That's why I never told you. That, and I wasn't sure you'd ever believe me."

"No, of course I do. I trust you," I lied.

"Good. The feeling is mutual."

I'm sure it was.

As we walked in silence, the gears turned ever faster. However I felt about it, Ford was, on a physical level if no other, a Swampert. Had some holy forced changed him, or had his human soul been responsible? Had it been a mix of both?

How useful of a tool could it be?

My head in the clouds, my foot caught on something. I looked down and saw the rusted shell of a Magneton. Three Magnemite, fused inseparably, even in death. My heart leapt as an idea caught fire in my brain.

"Maybe we should set our sights elsewhere," I said.

"Hm?"

"There are five other Gods connected to Registeel, correct?"

"Registeel is the only one we've gained direct access to."

"And the only one we've looted from."

"Fair point. But we've all worked extraordinarily hard to find them. In all likelihood it'll take years to find another."

"Then let it take years. Think about what we're working towards here! Would you rather sacrifice a few more years or risk throwing all this work away?"

"On the off-chance-"

I held up my hand. "No, listen. It's not just you and I we're working for. It's not just for the Golden Marshes or the Earthspringers or even all of Itori." I stopped, stood in front of him, and put my hands on his shoulders. "The stones were throw here will ripple across the entire World."

Ford stared at me for a moment, and I knew I had him enraptured. Then he smiled and shook his head.

"Very poetic, Roytoy. But I hope you have a concrete plan to back up the sentiment."

I grinned.

"How do you feel about expanding overseas?"