Hoothoot calls up above, interspersed with the screechy chirps of various insects and ghosts, filled the darkness of the Eterna Forest. Illuminated by the moon alone, the grass and plant life looked almost blue. Heath didn't often leave the house at night; he hadn't realized just how eerie it would be. It wasn't bad by any means, he was used to strange noises after dark. But twisted branches obscured by shadow appeared much different now as opposed to during the day.

Oddly enough, Atlas wasn't bothered by it at all. Their eyes were bright with that infectious enthusiasm they always carried, and it seemed Mothim was excited to be back out in the fresh air as well, seeing as it fluttered over Atlas a little higher than it had in the chateau. Carnivine and Rotom, on the other hand, had opted to be tucked back into their Poké Balls, leaving Heath alone, for the most part.

"I haven't had a chance to visit Eterna Forest in the longest time, especially at night," Atlas said. "I'm visiting my aunt and uncle in Floaroma Town on break for the next two months or so, and that's the most opportune time for me to do research. Studying insect habitats gets repetitive when you're going to the same few spots, and when said spots only really house Kricketot."

"Wait, why don't you stay with your parents?" Heath asked, raising an eyebrow. "Strained relationship or somethin'?"

"Hah, oh no! Nothing like that. They're from Olivine City, in the Johto region, so they arranged for my mom's sister and her husband to take care of me for a while, until I move on to get my Ph. D at the university in Goldenrod. I figured Sinnoh was better for my undergraduate degrees because of its more varied biodiversity."

All of those big words made Heath's head hurt. He didn't reply right away, instead nodding along as Atlas spoke, struggling to retain any nugget of information to intelligently continue the conversation.

Atlas gave him an out though, thankfully. "What about you, then? Where are you from?"

"Born in Pastoria, raised in Eterna," he responded. "My dad's an environmentalist, did a lot of work in the Great Marsh and published papers and shit about a bunch of foreign Pokémon migrating there. He and I moved to Eterna when I was like… I dunno, six? He divorced my mom and she kinda just disappeared from my life."

"What's his name? I took a class on the study of invasive species a few years ago. I remember reading something on a freak outbreak of Arbok in the marsh."

Heath stopped walking for a moment. He hadn't gone to see his father in years, especially with the desire to keep a low profile. Hell, the old man probably thought he was dead or in some sort of cartel. He could feel his eyes growing rheumy; he was glad it was too dark for Atlas to see much.

"Dr. Derek Belmonte," Heath replied, his voice soft.

"No shit," Atlas breathed. "He came in for a guest lecture that week of class. He mentioned having a son, crazy how that works out. Small world! We should visit him sometime."

"No."

"...No?"

The conversation ended as soon as a sharp glare from Heath stopped any further prodding from Atlas. Their silence was hesitant, and Heath could faintly hear their heart beating and their breathing become irregular as they tried to formulate more questions to ask. They must have realized Heath wasn't going to answer any of them after a minute or so, because their breathing returned to normal. They then huffed, indignant.

"You don't make talking easy," they said.

Heath didn't respond this time. He turned the corner, toward a thick section of forest, where the moon and stars weren't visible in the slightest behind a thick layer of clouds. Atlas was ranting about something behind him, but he had tuned them out and was focused on the task at hand. Getting to the back side of the chateau had been a hike already — they'd had to take a bit of a detour, thanks to the nature of the forest's layout — and he didn't want to squander the opportunity they had to figure out why there was a giant tree blocking the balcony.

As Heath cleared some dead leaves and foliage blocking his view, a trio of tiny Budew squeaked and fled the scene, scrambling into the underbrush behind him and Atlas. Well — there were the roots, he thought, crossing his arms and briefly scanning them. Once more, the darkness made things nearly impossible to make out, but parts of the roots looked withered, shriveled. The trunk, a few feet up, looked like it had buckled a bit, and even higher, it was cracked, split in half. Jagged edges in the bark suggested this was no chainsaw, but rather —

"Lightning."

Atlas stopped talking when Heath interrupted with his revelation. They followed his gaze to the separated tree trunk and nodded, glancing back down to the roots. The withering wasn't from the illness or poison — they were charred, electrocuted to a crisp.

The entomologist winced. "Hey, wasn't Dustox paralyzed…?"

"It was." Heath knelt down to touch the roots. They were coarse, and charcoal residue stained his fingertips as he lifted them. "There aren't any Electric types who live here though, aside from Rotom. And all of the rain lately has been down south…"

"Could it have been Rotom?"

"No, it stays inside the house."

"Then there's no —"

A sharp squeaking, followed by a distinct crackle of electricity, sounded just then, startling the two Trainers. As Heath turned, he found himself faced with a tall woman, wearing an oversized hoodie with a Clamperl graphic, barely any pants, Mary Janes and a pair of electric-blue leg warmers. Her platinum blonde waves were wound tight in a bun, held together by a scrunchie, and two large pink pearls dangled from her ears. At her side was the culprit behind the squeaking: a Pachirisu, its cheeks sparkling with power.

"The eighties called, they want their yoga instructor back," Heath snapped, still a bit shaken from the sudden intrusion.

The woman was taken aback. "Is that really any way to talk to someone you just met? Honestly. And I was about to help you out, too."

"We don't need it."

"Clearly you do," she bit back. "Considering I'm the one who caused this whole to-do in the first place."

That shut him up. Atlas's Mothim was trembling, as if waiting for the opportunity to attack this woman's squirrel, and Heath's hand, which he was only now aware of as hovering over Carnivine's Poké Ball, relaxed. The woman snickered, placing her hands on her hips, and her piercing blue eyes narrowed.

"Good boys. That's what I thought." She approached the dying tree and placed a perfectly-manicured hand on it, observing the flaky bark for a beat before looking back at them. Her expression feigned sympathy. "So, so sorry for ruining this beautiful old house's balcony. Did you know there were plans to tear it down? In favor of a second Contest Hall, of all things. How exciting!"

That part made Heath pause. He certainly had not heard about that. How recent was this information? Had the news said anything about it? Oh gods, if he had stayed there any longer, would he and Rotom have been crushed in rubble? Once again, the thought of leaving all those Gastly alone crossed his mind, and nausea left his throat raw and dry.

Atlas's hand on his arm brought him back to reality. "Heath, you're shaking," they whispered. He was.

The woman, satisfied by his reaction, beckoned for her Pachirisu to follow her. It chittered, clambering up her arm and onto her shoulder, before blowing Heath and Atlas a raspberry.

"Anyways, I should be off. Good luck on clearing that old thing out, by the way! You might not make too much of a dent with those noodle arms of yours before the demolition team comes, though." She laughed again, this time much louder.

A flock of Murkrow fluttered out of the trees, mimicking her cackling, as she continued with a question. "Why do you care so much, anyway? No one lives here."

Heath didn't have the opportunity to snap at her again, as Atlas decided to cut in without leaving him any window to. "There's a family of bugs up there, and a whole colony of ghosts. Demolishing the place would leave them without a home!"

The woman closed her eyes and shrugged. "That's for the demolition team to figure out, not me. I'm just here to further things along for the fun of it."

She made her way then toward the edge of the trees, her shoes kicking up a small amount of dust and grass as she walked. She stopped one last time though, not turning back to face the two Trainers, however.

"If you want a better chance of stopping them, I'd head to Hearthome City. Look for me there. Esther Margarite."

The woman, Esther, finally bid them goodbye with a flick of her wrist and a wry grin that Heath could just feel was spread across her face. His fists were clenched at his sides as she sauntered off, and his cheeks burned with rage and embarrassment. The nerve, the audacity, to show up out of nowhere, own up to a problem she caused, then leave with next to no consequences… it was nothing short of infuriating, that's what it was.

Under no circumstances could she be allowed to get away with it.

"We're going to Hearthome," Heath said.

"That's a good plan and all, but have you considered how long the journey is? Last time I checked, you were trying to lay low from the police," Atlas replied with a frown. "I thought you wanted to stay as out of the public eye as possible."

"The police don't know my name, and I've grown out my hair. I should be fine for a few weeks." Heath waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, it's been three years without an arrest. They might've given up."

He went quiet, looking to his feet, and took a deep breath. "Plus… this is much more important. This is my home. If I can forge a new legacy stopping people from doing wrong instead of doing wrong myself, then I will."

The Murkrow overhead settled back in the branches of the large oak they had settled themselves in prior. Up above, the clouds covering the moon made their gradual retreat to the west, allowing it to bathe the forest in its dim light once more.

"You were right earlier, Atlas. I think it's about time I paid my dad a visit."