September 26th, First Year

Ingo was dreaming and he knew it the moment he opened his eyes and felt the ground sway beneath him. Ingo never felt entirely safe and secure in his dreams- never as though something weren't watching or as if something weren't waiting ahead on the tracks. He never let himself rest his cab without properly ensuring that his position was well guarded. And when he felt the cab sway once more- heard the sound of the train wheels sliding seamlessly upon the unseen tracks- he felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Ingo sat stiffly on a long plastic bench, watching as the rubber handholds swayed to-and-fro just before him. His eyes flicked over to the opposite window and there, he saw his dimmed reflection in the tinted windows. Ingo was covered head-to-toe in dust and debris. His tattered coat dripped with mud. The exposed stuffing in his hat was black with soot. And when he moved to pinch himself- to possibly remove himself from the interlude of the dream- he noticed with faint confusion at how grimy his hands were. How the cuticles of his nails were black. How his hands reeked of oil and overturned earth. Emmet is the engineer between us, Ingo thought, turning his hands over while reveling at the damage. Only he would let his exterior worsen to such a state.

Ingo got to his feet, his body automatically moving to combat the motion of the cabin around him. It was natural- seamless- the way he strode through his own cabin, shuffling aside the door as he headed toward the main cab. He didn't know why he was steering himself there. Ingo only saw empty seats along the way. No coughing. No shuffling noises or overhead PA announcements or halting footsteps or opening or closing of doors. Nothing but the sound of the wheels sliding along the smooth track.

Ingo was about to open the door to the final cab when he stopped, his fingers ghosting over the latch in the door. Finally, he heard it: chatter. Low and cautious chatter- secretive. Not meant for prying ears. But Ingo had been alone for far too long and cared not for what he was about to intrude upon. He knew himself well. He knew that with deep dreams such as this one, that it was only due to end in a nightmare. Might as well release the breaks. So with ease, Ingo slid open the door to the compartment.

The cabin became dead-silent. By the door, Ingo recognized Akari only by her slightly disheveled hair and swollen eyes as she turned to stare at him. Her expression softened, instead replaced by pity and remorse. With one hand she gestured to the seat directly opposite her- the one facing her own. "That's your seat."

Ingo hesitated. "I beg your pardon?" Memories of his articulated speech and forced muscle memory made him instinctively reach into his pocket- for a ticket- but he froze when his hand closed around nothing. "I… I do not believe I possess a ticket," he murmured aloud. "Nor a seat on this cab-"

Akari giggled. "Your other pocket, Ingo. Look there."

Ingo reached and shuddered when indeed, his hands closed upon a small silver card- a subway pass. A subway pass with his name on it and an assigned seat. The plastic, cold and yet flexible, weighed like a stone in his palm. How did this get there? The subways do not have assigned seating. I don't believe they ever did have assigned seats. Nor do I…I don't remember placing my ticket in my pocket. So then…

"Sit down," Akari murmured. Her tiny voice, quiet but full of command nipped at Ingo's reflective monologue. Her eyes burned into Ingo's own- focused on something that both was and was not him. Akari affixed the strange clothes that adorned her slightly shivering form, frowning slightly when Ingo did as she asked and took a seat. "Our stops aren't for some time."

"Stops?" Ingo repeated. He gazed carefully at Akari. If this is a dream…? Ingo scoffed at the notion but entertained it nonetheless. If he were in a dream, then there was no way that Akari could be looking at him as though she too were awake and conscious. But then, Ingo supposed that that train had already left the platform a long time ago during their lengthy discussion in Irida's tent. He hummed quietly beneath his breath, tapping his finger against his thigh when he heard an old youth- an old vigor- he hadn't had since he had first landed in Hisui. "Where is our stop, Young Akari?"

Akari didn't answer him. Instead, she gestured toward the lit-up signs along the corridor of the cabin. Strange script- Unovan, Ingo realized- deigned that their next stop was rapidly approaching. A voice warbled overhead, one that Ingo didn't think he had ever heard before in his entire life. One that was high and low. One that threatened to break the PA system in its deep, staticky rumble. One that was rife with interference, reminiscent of garbage noise from broken microphone systems.

Footsteps sounded at the front of the cabin. The door was quickly opened and then shut. Bells jangled quietly. A short figure rose from out of their seat, hurriedly grabbing onto one of the handholds as they stepped toward the exit doors to the cabin. Ingo only had seconds to pause and stare at the figure across from them.

It was Jaku, her cobalt tunic practically frozen onto her. Icicles formed on her sleeves. Sheets of snow broke apart from her trousers, piling on the floor. Her face, hands and lips were a deadly shade of blue as if seconds away from freezing to death, ice turning their eyelashes white. Splashes of blood lined their tunic, their barren, filthy feet striding toward the safety line of the car as they rocked back-and-forth. But they looked relieved. Happy, almost. Ingo could've sworn that he heard the young woman humming a tune, high and clear and jubilant.

"Miss Jaku?"

The woman's gaze darted over to him and Ingo had the slightest impression that something was in fact watching him from Jaku's gaze. But it wasn't the ranger. It wasn't the assertive yet reclusive young woman he didn't know. It was something else. Something that- upon noticing Ingo's curious stare- caused the lights to the cabin to flicker and dim. Whatever lay dormant underneath Jaku's flesh and bones smiled at him- a grin of nothing but teeth, no creases in the eyes- as the train came to a shuddering stop.

Ingo watched as the platform came into view; a platform in the middle of nowhere fenced in by dead bushes and billowing dust. Nothing but empty skies and a distinct nothingness that surrounded the gaudy concrete platform with no roof- nothing but a dilapidated bench. Almost the second the doors slid open, Jaku slipped through and skipped off of the platform and into the darkness without a second glance back, an unseen bell clanging as it grew quieter and quieter and quieter.

And then, the wheels began to roll again. For a long time, both he and Akari sat across from one another, silently staring at the floor. And for a long, long time, Ingo would get up and pace the cabin, unable to go further. Unable to access the main cab- locked. Refusing to budge. He was unable to use the PA- to figure out what was happening- to wake himself from the dream. The longer he stayed, the filthier he felt. His hands had turned black from soot and smoke. His face felt unspeakably grimy. His shoes felt too wet- too small- too little tread to keep himself from sliding across the moving cabin.

And then the PA sounded overhead and the train came to a gentle stop. The doors slid open. This time, instead of a jarring nothingness, there was an actual platform. One with a mass of intermixing people and pokémon. One where Ingo could feel the warmth and life from the commuters as they waited patiently across the long, concrete platform for another train to arrive. One that Ingo instinctively moved toward, his hands painfully clenching around the doors as moved to exit.

A voice sounded from across the way. One that was stunted but raucous nonetheless, calling for something. For someone. Emmet.

Ingo then paused and turned toward where Akari was still sitting, her forehead pressed against the glass. Something is amiss here. He wanted to dart across the platform. To find his brother. To find Emmet. To abandon the ghost train and perhaps divert his course to somewhere more familiar. But a growing anxiety began to gnaw at his tongue and forced him to go still. "Are you not going to accompany me? I do believe this train terminates at this particular stop, Young Akari." He stepped back and offered up his hand for her to take. "Please, allow me to escort you safely to your next stop."

Akari shook her head. "This isn't my stop, Ingo; it's yours."

There was something in the way Akari had referred to the place as 'his stop' that made the hairs along the back of Ingo's neck stand straight up. As if Akari intentionally wasn't telling him something. It was that sense of caution that made Ingo hesitate even more. "I cannot allow you to stay within this cabin. I am sure that this train terminates here. Absolutely certain of it. And if that is the case, then you must board another train."

"It doesn't stop here, Ingo," she yawned. "Just get off the train."

Get off the train. Step onto the platform. Ingo's feet moved against his wishes. He leaned forward, his boot landing on the hard concrete. Almost immediately, the horrible dampness in his feet vanished. The ache in his back and knees had gone. He felt youthful. Alert and ready and cheerful. Taller, even. The multitude of commuters thronged around him, familiar greetings and questions filling up every inch of silence they could as Ingo stepped fully off of the train. And when he turned to look back, he froze. The ghost train had vanished.

Ingo woke in a cold sweat. His entire body ached. His back, his knees, his neck. He could hear his own breaths echoing throughout his hut, placing one shaky hand to his chest as he moved back his warm blanket and set his feet on the cold wooden floor. He still felt disgusting as if the grime from his dreams had stuck to him into the waking world.

"...You are awake."

Ingo was only given a moment to ponder the voice before something warm was slipped into his shaking hands. He stared upward, meeting Emmet's concerned glance as his brother took a sip from a small mug. "Tea. You should drink it. You were fidgeting a lot in your sleep. Mumbling about something."

"Oh." Ingo graciously accepted the mug, only then realizing that his mouth was dry. He took a sip, trying not to wince at the interesting flavors. Emmet was a novice at preparing tea but Ingo still appreciated the effort. "Thank you, Emmet."

"Yup. Happy to help." Emmet recrossed the small hut toward the hearth dragging his own blanket as he went, prominent bags under his eyes. "Bad dream?" he asked simply.

"...A confusing one," Ingo admitted, rubbing at the back of his head. "Not a nightmare. I was awake through most of it, though."

"A lucid dream," Emmet confirmed, his eyes sparkling at the notion. "Those are verrry rare." He took a careful sip of his own tea before making a face. "Eugh." He stood and moved back over to Ingo, wordlessly swapping their mugs. He then took a long sip from Ingo's mug and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with himself. "Muuuch better."

"Did you mix up our teas? They should taste the same." Ingo took a sip of his tea, finding that Emmet's tea was in fact much sweeter than his own had been. Ingo found that he preferred the taste as well. He preferred it quite a lot. "What did you put in this?"

"Combee honey. Got some from a merchant."

Ingo's eyes narrowed. "With what money?"

"Yours," Emmet snorted, grinning. "It was cheap. I bought an entire jar. Just for you."

Just for me? Ingo felt his face flush. "You didn't put any honey in your own tea? Is that why it was so revolting?"

"You're the one with a sweet tooth," Emmet commented smugly, taking a long drink from his mug.

It was profound, to have somebody accurately know him better than Ingo knew himself. In the time that Ingo had been recoupled to Emmet, his brother had told him a number of self-assured things about himself. Emmet had made spot-on guesses as well. How Ingo slept, the meticulous way in which he organized his cabin, the specific order of his pokémon on his belt, things like that. And yet, Ingo found that he was still struggling to remember as much about Emmet. It made him feel… guilty. As if we weren't trying enough.

"I… suppose I am." Ingo then cleared his throat. "I should hope that you haven't been squandering what little money I have, Emmet."

"You mean our money," Emmet teased. "And no. I have not spent anything else. I promise."

Within the hour, Ingo heard the peal of the bell summoning the members of the Pearl Clan to the communal hall for breakfast. Ingo grunted before moving to stand. He would have to skip his own meal to accommodate Emmet- what his brother didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He had arranged it with Irida ahead of time. Food was scarce in the icelands but not so uncommon that Ingo wouldn't be able to forage later out of the watchful eyes of the Pearl Clan.

So Ingo skipped his breakfast, briefly leaving Emmet alone to clear the paths of snow around the communal hall with Chandelure at his side and Freight on his back. All he could think about was the strange ghost train dream. The feeling of being entirely awake. The potent dread. The idea that something had indeed been watching him.

"Chaaan?" At his side, Chandelure bumped her glassy exterior gently against his side, one of her metallic tendrils curling around his wrist to steady him as his footsteps led him toward the outskirts of the Pearl Settlement. "Chrr? Chaaa- aa- rr?"

"My apologies, Chandelure." Ingo rested his hand upon her head, knowing that it did nothing to soothe the ghost-type beside him. "I seem to be… distracted. Think nothing of it."

No sooner had he mentioned the disturbance had Chandelure vanished into thin air, almost immediately returning with Emmet being dragged along after her. And with Emmet's expectant stare, Ingo let himself recap the odd dream, feeling particularly silly when Emmet pointed out that lucid dreams were simply that: lucid. Made up by the mind. Things that Ingo constructed himself. Nothing to take too seriously.

So then maybe, he could fault himself when, after leaving Emmet to take care of some warden things with Irida, he slipped away under the cover of snowfall and into the icelands. Wordlessly, Freight alighted from his perch, stretching his wings taut for Ingo to clamber on. Freight wasn't a good flier but that was fine; they weren't flying far. And so sooner had Ingo left the stony cliffs of the Pearl Settlement did he and Freight alight on the abandoned train platform that Ingo had stumbled upon not even three days prior.

Maybe then, he wasn't all that surprised to see something waiting for him; someone waiting for him. A tall figure, broad and well-muscled, their arms crossed as they stood rigid on the concrete. A rolled up dress shirt. Suspenders. Crisp dress pants. Shiny dress shoes. Golden eyes snapped onto Ingo's own wary gaze before the visage of the man shuddered, parting only halfway to give away the slight mirage.

"You." Ingo took one step forward. Only one. Golden eyes, he recognized. Illusions too. But also the image of the man. Somebody close to me. Somebody I once knew. Somebody that hurts to look upon. "You are… Lady Zoroark?" Ingo uttered, faltering on the usage of the title only suited for nobles.

At his shaky words, the visage of the man shuddered. "Indeed," came a rasping voice, terribly unfit for the creature's illusion. One richened by age, saturated with acidic humor and folly. The man took a careful pace toward Ingo. "You have come to me for… guidance?"

"A dream," Ingo croaked. His throat hurt. His eyes were watering. "Who… who are you wearing?" The words came out wrong. Mean. Rude. Scathing, almost.

Lady Zoroark did not flinch. Neither did its illusion. Instead, the burly man strode forward until he was less than a hair away from Ingo, the familiarity of it like a cut across his cheek as the man reached forward and ruffled the hair atop Ingo's scalp. His grasp was steady. Calm. Reassuring. Ingo leaned into it.

"An illusion to soothe," came a new voice. One that was deep and gravelly and calm. One that reminded Ingo of quiet days playing with rowdy pokémon under the watchful eye of… the man. "You are receptive to this form," Lady Zoroark rumbled, her voice masked. "I will keep it throughout the duration of our conversation. You must speak. So do so. I will listen."

Ingo wanted to cry. Something about the image of the man stung at him like a hot coal on his bare flesh. He wanted to reach forward and embrace the man. But Ingo only trembled in place, his hands clenching and unclenching at the rush of grief and confusion and frustration that threatened to spill from him. So he spoke. He spoke in oh so quiet words and hums of the dream. Of the dread that came from it. And oh, how silly Ingo thought himself to be. How foolish he was, confiding in a Zoroark. An alpha Zoroark. One that could bear upon him in seconds and steal the life from his body in the blink of an eye.

"Not a dream," Lady Zoroark rumbled, using the man's body to steer Ingo onto the platform and over to a sturdy-looking bench. "A vision. A delicious one. Not from myself or from the sprites of the lakes." The visage of the man looked thoughtful for a moment, placing a bracing hand upon Ingo's shoulders. "Perhaps, it comes from The Spatial pokémon? If any were to reach you within your dreams, I imagine it would be the legendary who sought to keep you."

"Palkia?"

"Yes. Them. It would not be a coincidence. You have only just come to possess the spine of The Compendium. I would see no irregularities in Great Palkia sending you a vision to guide you along your way, champion of space."

A vision? Helping me? Ingo didn't see how a vision could help him. At least, not one so vague and discomforting as taking a ride on a ghost train. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head. "A vision," Ingo repeated, focusing on the dream. On the message from Palkia. "What do you believe they were trying to elaborate upon?"

"That is for you to figure out."

No matter how long Ingo thought of the dream- of the quiet train and of both Akari and Jaku's unsettling presences within- nothing prevalent came to mind. No serious warnings. Nothing that could justify the apprehension that chewed on his insides. And when Ingo could stand the cold no longer, he stood, wincing when the vertebrae in his back popped from disuse. "Remaining on these tracks will get me nowhere," Ingo grumbled, rubbing at a particularly sore spot on his lower back. He turned and begrudgingly bowed his head toward the cloaked fox pokémon. "Thank you for your services, Lady Zoroark."

In turn, the visage of the man disappeared like mist in the sunlight, replaced by the figure of a hulking Zoroark, one that towered effortlessly over Ingo, its eyes larger than his hands and its snow-white fur wavering like creeping fog as the lithe creature leered at him. "No, thank you, champion of time," the noble hissed. It ducked low, its warm breath stirring the hair along Ingo's face. "It has been such a long time since a human has let me feed from them so willingly."

"Feed?" Ingo croaked. He immediately calmed his frantic thoughts. Ghost-type pokémon were known to leech off of the life energy of their trainer. He certainly didn't feel tired. "Right… of course."

Lady Zoroark only nodded, laying their long body across the platform as if preparing to sleep. "Of course, I am right. I have lived for far longer than you. My words are true, human. Now go." And in a snarky tone, Lady Zoroark added, "And eat something. I should have better luck scavenging week-old carrion than your soul, champion of space. Even you should be aware of the effects of attrition."

Ingo arrived back to the Pearl Clan shortly before dusk and none too soon. His stomach ached, having not eaten since the day before. If he just so happened to feed his leftover berries to his pokémon than so be it. Or at least, so Ingo had believed as he shuffled up the creaking steps to his hut. No sooner had he moved to open the door did a pair of rough hands grab him and pull him inside.

"You!" The pair of hands shoved him further inside the house and over toward his hearth before roughly sitting him down. "I leave you alone! For ten minutes!" Riiidiculous!"

And then, a bowl of soup was set in front of him. Ingo was left dumbfounded when both Emmet and Irida sat on opposite sides of the hearth across from him, their expressions full of irritation and suspicion as they glared at him.

"Where have you been?" Irida immediately set upon Ingo, her tone scathing. With her jewelry reflecting the flickering light of the fire of the hearth, her face was cast in sharp shadows. "I've been looking for you since this morning. I wanted to consult you about something but then you up and disappeared. What happened?"

"I would also like to know that," Emmet commented wryly, his fingers flexing around the handle of a wooden spoon. "We thought-" Emmet froze. His silver eyes were empty for just a frame of a second. Emmet never revealed his emotions in the way he spoke with his clipped, monotonous tone of voice. But there was such an incomprehensible amount of fear and anguish in his brother's eyes that Ingo was forced to look away, shame and guilt scratching at his throat. "I thought that… that something had happened to you."

"Where did you go?" Irida demanded. "Why did you leave the settlement without telling someone?"

Ingo opened his mouth. And then closed it. And then opened it again. Silently, he put his head in his hands. "It would seem… new tracks have appeared before me. I was unable to… resist their call."

Emmet exhaled through his nose, roughly placing the spoon down upon the lid of a metallic kettle before shoving Ingo's bowl into his hands, nearly spilling the mixture within. "Eat," he commanded. "I found out about your little arrangement," he almost spat, anger lacing every word. "I hate it. I will not allow it. You will eat."

"...How did you make this?" Ingo asked the second he could.

Emmet sneered. "With help." He gestured toward the pokéballs at his belt, his gaze flickering to something just behind Ingo before refocusing. "We are asking the questions, brother. Eat your soup."

"...Very well." Ingo swallowed, feeling nervous under the wrathful glares of both his livid brother and clan leader. He took a hesitant bite. Almost immediately, the gnawing sense of anxiety that had been eating away at him all day had let up. It was good. Very good. "What's in this?"

"Radishes, beans, rice," Emmet listed off dutifully, his tone dropping at the last object on the list. "...Cabbage."

Ingo's eyes narrowed and he put down his spoon. "What are you trying to insinuate, Emmet?"

"That you're not taking care of yourself, you big idiot," Irida admonished him. "Now shut up and eat your dinner before it goes cold. You're lucky your brother was fortunate enough to even find the ingredients. We're asking the questions. Stop deflecting the subject."

"I'm not!" Ingo defended himself. "I was simply curious-"

"Where did you go today?" Irida asked again.

"...The Bonechill Wastes." And carefully, Ingo continued. "To a particular landmark that Emmet and I stumbled upon the other day."

"The platform?" Emmet was quick to guess.

"Correct."

The two quickly caught Irida up to speed about what the platform was and the connotations behind it. Ingo was a bit slower to mention what he had really gone out there to do: speak to Lady Zoroark.

"You did what?!" Irida exclaimed, banging her hands upon the table. "You! You went into the wastelands- at noon no less- looking for a Zoroark? For a Baneful Fox? On purpose?" She gaped at him. "Are you truly insane?"

"I am not. I was seeking advice for my vision."

"And what did the Zoroark say?" Emmet asked.

"We found no meaning. Only that it could have been a guarded message from Pa- from Almighty Sinnoh. I returned as soon as we came to that conclusion."

"It only took you the better half of a day," Emmet snarked. The man opened his mouth to say something more but quickly shushed himself, storming away into the kitchen with Ingo's bowl.

Irida sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers as she reached across the table to take Ingo's hands. "Listen. Ingo. This isn't about the… your demotion, is it?"

That was a topic that certainly made the soup in his stomach roil, but Ingo cast it aside. "No... No, my seeking out of Lady Zoroark was not brought on by our talk," he attempted to reassure her. "I was only curious to find meaning into the vision as it disturbed me so. My apologies if I brought worry upon you."

Irida only shook her head. "I know you wander off all the time, Ingo. And I know that you're fully capable of taking care of yourself. I wasn't worried when I couldn't find you- you've survived much worse than the regular cold of the icelands." Irida then met him with an awkward glance. "You might want to apologize to Emmet first. He nearly had a meltdown when we came to a consensus that you were missing."

Irida had left shortly after, leaving Ingo feeling quite small and disliked in the wake of Emmet's angry silence.

Emmet's anger was palpable and it felt odd to be on the receiving end of it when his younger brother had been trying everything to stay in Ingo's good graces. Emmet didn't avoid Ingo. Didn't keep himself from glaring at his twin every now and then. Didn't bother to hide his anger in the vigorous way he maintained the hearth and checked on their pokémon. Ingo tried to approach his brother about it- to apologize. The younger had simply bade him away to his bed, frowning in such a way that Ingo knew was odd even for Emmet. Bits of chopped radishes and tiny bowls of soup were continuously left on his bedside in a passive aggressive manner as if Emmet knew that Ingo was much hungrier- much more malnourished than he let on. Each time Ingo would finish one bowl, another would find its way back to his table minutes later.

As night fell and the clean silverware was turned empty, Ingo reclined against the post of his bed, feeling much fuller than he felt himself having any right to be. He felt warm and cared for while still harboring the shame of being scorned for being careless. For not considering what times he lived in. For essentially sending himself on a fool's errand when staying in the Pearl Settlement would have accomplished the same outcome.

Quick footsteps approached Ingo's bedside. Emmet was there brandishing a cup of water at him, his smile finally reappearing but the bags beneath his eyes betraying all. Emmet was still angry, rocking back-and-forth on his feet.

Ingo was first to speak. "I am sorry, Emmet."

"Do not apologize," Emmet retorted back, his voice taut. "You… nevermind." He set down the cup of water, taking Ingo's hand in his own before sitting upon the floor and resting against the crude wooden walls of the hut. Silence. Ingo squeezed Emmet's hand once. Emmet squeezed back.

"You should ask Palkia," Emmet finally conceded. "Ask Mesprit as much as I don't like them." Emmet then blinked. "Orrrr… ask Burr. She knows about our jobs. She knows things we don't. She might know something about it. Send her letter."

"A letter?" Ingo asked. "Is she not resting with Pellervo?" He inquired. "I was under the impression that she suffered massive collateral damage from her fall."

"Apparently not. Pellervo said she was good to travel. She departed back to the Diamond Clan at dawn with her pokémon," Emmet replied sleepily. "Alone."

So Ingo sent Parlor with a letter detailing the dream and of Ingo's thoughts and of Lady Zoroark's opinion- anything he thought could be remotely helpful. And within the hour, Parlor teleported back to Ingo's side with his own letter carefully clutched in the pokémon's claws. His eyes lit up at the messy scrawls of ink on the back of his note as though the ranger had taken one quick look at his message before sending back a hasty response.

"What does it say?" Emmet asked, poking his head over the bed to try and read the letter.

"Let me read it first," Ingo grumbled.

To Ingo,

Cute vision. Remember when I mentioned what would happen to us when we finished our jobs here in Hisui? That we would disappear? Go back home? That's probably what your vision was referring to. I go first, then you, then Akari. Matches what I know to a 'T'. You should start getting ready to take over for me once I fuck off back home or something. Go talk to Palkia or Mesprit if you've got the time. See if they have something for you to do while I finish up. Gather more Old Verses if you want. That's my best guess.

P.S.: I'd investigate that weird platform more if I were you. If Lady Zoroark was there and knew you'd be coming, there's gotta be something significant behind that place. Be careful.

Best regards,

Jaku