Chapter 3: Early Morning Sketching.

The dawn was a soft glow on the horizon as Lorenzo and his granddaughter, Bianca; the girl Latias always disguised herself as, worked tirelessly to prepare the Alto Mare Museum for its opening the next day. The artifacts of their city's storied past gleamed under the soft lights, each piece telling a story of valor and loss. Yet, it was the present story that weighed heavily on their hearts: the tale of Latias, the Eon Pokémon that had once been the heart of Alto Mare.

They had watched her wither away over the months since her brother's sacrifice. The once vibrant Latias had become a shadow of her former self, her eyes dimmed of the spark that had once danced within them. The museum, a sanctuary for the city's memories, now seemed to echo with the emptiness that had claimed her spirit. Lorenzo, his hands gently dusting the glass cases,(one of which housed an ancient hieroglyph of Latias) sighed heavily. "We must do something for her, Bianca," he said to Bianca. "Latios's death has taken too much from her."

Bianca, her young face etched with lines of worry beyond her years, nodded solemnly. She had grown up with the Legendary siblings, her heart forever entwined with theirs. She knew that without her grandfather's guidance and the love of her Pokémon friends, she would not be the strong young woman she had become. "What can we do, Grandpa?" she asked, her voice small in the vastness of the room. "We've tried everything."

They had indeed. They had offered her the most succulent berries from the Eternal Forest, played her favorite games by the canals, and even tried to coax her with the melodious tunes of the city's musicians. But Latias had remained unresponsive, her sorrow a thick veil that none could penetrate.

"Perhaps," Lorenzo mused, his eyes distant, "perhaps it's time to remind her of happier times. You know she loves it when you draw her, my dear."

Bianca's eyes lit up at the suggestion. It had been a while since she had captured Latias's likeness, her pencils and sketchbook gathering dust on her nightstand. "Maybe," she said tentatively, hope seeping into her voice. "It couldn't hurt to try."

After Bianca was done with her museum duties, she approached the entrance to the Secret Garden, her sketchbook clutched tightly to her chest. The sun had just crested the horizon, casting the city in a warm, golden light that seemed to whisper promises of a new day. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the heaviness of Latias's sorrow. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

As she stepped through the illusion wall, the tranquility of the garden washed over her. The fountain's melody seemed to beckon her forward, as if the very water knew she brought hope with her. It would be fitting, since the Soul Dew that had once been her dear friend Latios lay within it.

And then she saw them, the unmistakable forms of Latias… and Ash, wrapped in each other's embrace.

Bianca froze, her eyes widening at the sight. Latias, who had been so distant, so lost in her grief, was nestled against the boy who had once been her hero. Ash, his eyes closed in sleep, had one hand cradling the Pokémon's cheek, his other arm around her neck. Pikachu lay curled up at their side, his tiny form a silent sentinel to their bond. The scene was so intimate, so unexpected, that for a moment, she felt like an intruder.

But as she watched, she noticed something she hadn't seen in a very long time—peace. Latias's features had relaxed, the tension in her body gone. Her breathing was even, her chest rising and falling in tune with Ash's own breathing. The sight was like a balm to Bianca's soul. Since Latios's sacrifice, she had only seen the Eon Pokémon's sorrow grow deeper with each passing day, a wound that had refused to heal. Yet here she was, with a serenity that seemed almost alien.

With trembling hands, she reached for her sketchbook and began to draw, her chalk dancing over the page to capture the tender moment. As she worked, she felt the weight of her grandfather's words. Maybe this was what Latias needed, maybe this was the key to bringing her back to them? Then she had to share it with Lorenzo. Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping duo, she retreated from the garden, her mind racing with the implications of what she had witnessed, still working on the finer details of her sketch.

Her chalk flew over the paper as she sought her grandfather, each stroke a silent prayer for the love she hoped would heal Latias's pain. The sketch grew more detailed with every passing second, the soft lines of Latias's feathers and the gentle curve of Ash's smile coming to life beneath her fingertips. It was as if the very essence of the scene had been etched into her soul, and all she had to do was let it flow through her hand.

When she finished, she stared at the drawing, her breath catching in her throat. It was more than just a picture; it was a moment captured in time, a memory made tangible. The love between them was palpable, the warmth of their bond radiating from the page. It was as if the sun had painted the scene itself, the colors rich and vibrant, the emotion raw and unfiltered. She knew Lorenzo would understand the gravity of what she had witnessed, would see the hope that shimmered in every line.

Her heart racing, she dashed through the waking streets of Alto Mare, her footsteps echoing off the ancient walls. The city was coming to life, the soft murmur of voices and the splash of oars in the canals accompanying her as she made her way to her grandpa's gondola workshop. The scent of freshly cut wood and the faint whine of a saw guided her to the open doorway, where she found her grandpa hunched over a half-finished gondola, his tools scattered around him.

"Grandpa!" she called out, her voice breathless with excitement.

Lorenzo looked up from his work, his eyes immediately drawn to the sketchbook in her hands. He recognized the look of satisfaction that painted her features—the same look she had worn when she had first discovered her gift for capturing the essence of the world around her. He straightened, his curiosity piqued.

"You're done already?" he asked, his voice gentle. "It must have been quite the inspiration to make you work so swiftly."

Bianca nodded, her eyes still glued to the drawing. She couldn't believe she had managed to capture the moment so perfectly. "It's... it's beautiful," she murmured.

Lorenzo's gaze searched her face, noticing the change in her demeanor. "Did drawing together help?" he asked gently.

Bianca nodded, her cheeks flushing. "It's more than that, Grandpa," she said, her voice hushed. "When I found her, Latias was still asleep. I don't think she's slept like that in a long time. For once, she wasn't plagued by nightmares. She seems... at peace."

Lorenzo frowned, not quite grasping the significance of her words. "And how does a simple sketch of her sleeping bring us closer to healing?" he asked, his tone tinged with doubt.

Bianca took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts, her voice steady. "Look." She handed over the sketchbook, her hand trembling slightly.

Lorenzo's eyes fell upon the image, his breath hitching as he took in the details. Ash, his dear friend, cradled Latias in his arms, their faces a portrait of peaceful slumber. It was a scene that spoke volumes about the depth of their bond, a bond that had grown stronger in the face of adversity.

"Latias isn't alone," Bianca whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She has Ash."

Lorenzo took a moment to absorb the image before his eyes. The sight of the two together stirred something within him, a memory of the bond they had shared before the world had torn them apart. He had always known that there was something special between Ash and Latias, a connection that went beyond that of a trainer and a Pokémon. It was a bond that had been forged in the crucible of battle and tempered by loss.

He took a step back, his hand unconsciously reaching up to stroke his chin as he considered the implications of what he was seeing. "When did he return?" he murmured to himself, his eyes never leaving the sketch. "How long has this been going on?"

Bianca watched him, her own emotions a tumultuous storm of hope and fear. "I don't know," she admitted. "But it's clear that their bond has grown, and that's something we can't ignore."

Lorenzo nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the drawing. "You're right," he said finally. "This changes everything." He took a deep breath, his thoughts racing. "We need to talk to him, to understand what happened, to make sure she's safe."

Bianca's heart swelled with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the answer to their prayers. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice small.

"We wait," Lorenzo said firmly, his eyes never leaving the drawing. "We must give them the space they need. They have much to talk about, and we don't want to disturb them." He knew all too well the complexities of love, of the bonds that could form between humans and Pokémon. "But we'll be ready," he added, his voice resolute. "We'll be here when they wake."

—

The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city. The sounds of Alto Mare's bustling life grew louder outside the workshop, but inside, the air was thick with anticipation. Bianca paced the floor, her eyes straying to the door every few minutes, expecting to see Ash and Latias emerge from the garden. Lorenzo remained calm, his eyes on the sketchbook, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have transpired in the night.

Hours passed, and still no sign of them. The city's rhythms grew more pronounced, the cries of the market sellers floating in through the open window. The scent of freshly baked bread and the distant laughter of children at play filled the room, a stark contrast to the silence that hung over the sleeping couple in the Secret Garden. Lorenzo's heart grew heavier with every tick of the clock, his mind racing with scenarios. Had something gone wrong?