Chapter 86 –Titan's Shadow

Wheat fields cut by pale grass paths surrounded Leo and Spice. For a whole day, they had traveled on foot, gathering berries to supplement their rations—Leo refused to hunt for ethical reasons—and taking safer routes to ration Spice's healing supplies further added to their travel time. This amounted to night coming too early, and Leo had offered to take shifts.

Spice, of course, refused, as she was still not even the slightest bit tired.

After a sleepless night, Spice led a drowsy Leo through the last of the wheat fields, asking, "And this is Yotta Outskirts?"

"The wheat district, but yes. Crops must have rotated since I last visited… Used to be sunflowers." Leo suppressed a yawn. "At least the climate here allows for wheat, even as autumn comes in full swing…"

"I suppose the local Grass would help with keeping growth steady," Spice said, careful to keep away from the crops so she didn't accidentally contaminate them with her element. "Leo, did you sleep at all? You seem…"

"I'm fine. We'll use this as a rest stop before…" Another yawn. "What time is it?"

Spice looked at the horizon, where the sun was starting to peek out from the top of Kilo Mountain. "Barely morning. I want to say we're a little past the twentieth kilo." Spice looked back. "You slept right at midnight, with how much you were stirring."

"You kept pacing," Leo let slip.

Spice flinched, suddenly wincing when a loose sprig of wheat flew into her face. "I didn't know that kept you up," she mumbled, flicking the wheat away. "Sorry. I was getting restless again, and I had to chase off some random wild."

"It's fine," Leo said. "But first thing, we're getting you checked. How many days, now?"

Spice was tired of hearing it, so she didn't reply at all and pointed forward. "Where's your home?"

Leo pointed with a limp finger. "Skip the next two acres, then make a left, then a right again, and then it'll be the fifth house to your left…"

"…Remind me again when we get closer."

The brown field of wheat that waved with the breeze was soothingly normal. Occasionally, Leo stumbled over some lumpy part of the ground, or some imperfection in the path, too tired and too used to the paved roads of Kilo Village when not in combat.

"You alright?" Spice said.

"I'm fine," Leo mumbled. "This walk took a lot out of me. Between avoiding Dungeons, the lack of sleep, and whatever's happening in the sky… Oh, this way, Spice."

A little more walking and the fields were behind them, replaced by rows of homes, each one made of some decorated clay, brick, or other kind of cement. Some were larger than others or in odd shapes to accommodate for the residences.

Compared to Kilo Village, it was very low-tech. Leo wondered if they had any technology inside yet. Clocks, or did they rely on the sun? Ovens, or Fire and Orbs? Spice hummed.

Even as they stopped in front of the home Leo had identified as his parents' abode, Spice asked, "Leo, you don't think this place was badly affected by most Dungeon equipment going bad, do you?"

"I'm not sure," he said as Spice knocked on the door. Fine, old wood. Lasted well in the dry climate. She wondered if it had Passho blessings, or perhaps Occa to resist the Fire resident inside.

"WHOZZERE?!"

Spice blinked and stepped back. A low, weak hissing came from the other side of the door.

"It's just me, Father!" Leo called tiredly.

"WHOZZAT?!"

"He's… hard of hearing," Leo said awkwardly. "Try opening the door. Actually, could you stay forward for this?"

"What?"

Spice pushed lightly against the door, and to her surprise, it was unlocked. She looked at Leo once more, uncertain. Wouldn't it frighten them?

But Leo motioned vaguely to advance, and Spice complied.

A few globs of poison flew from the entrance. She ducked out of the way and pulled Leo with her; the poison bubbled, inert, on the ground. It was old poison; while toxic, it wasn't very effective compared to her own.

"That'll teach ya! Break and enter this old home! Shameful! Shame on you! Now beg for a Pecha, I dare ya!"

"Who's there, Tari?" called another voice. "More villains? Oh, I hope not…"

"Mother! It's me, Leo!" He casted a small ember in the air to light the inside.

With the darkness giving way, a large and pale Arbok, with unevenly patched scales, squinted and hissed in their general direction. Far behind, sitting in an old rocking chair of Occa wood, was a Delphox with clouded eyes and a noticeable layer of fur all around her general area. A half-knitted, well-made scarf lay half-made in her lap. All one color, yet what impressed Spice on second glance was that there was no way she could have seen her handiwork.

"Leo? Come here, let me feel your paw."

"Bah, Leo! As if you can fool me, bandit!" Tari slithered forward and hissed in Leo's general direction again, blinking several times while his pupils dilated strangely. More hissing—Leo stood still, looking mildly annoyed but tolerant—and finally he pulled back.

"He's at least a Leo impersonator," he said dutifully. "Go ahead and see your mother, if I can really call you her son!"

Spice could see the hesitance in his words and immediately felt disarmed. Was Leo's father really trying to save face for his original mistake?

"Of course, Father."

Spice rubbed the back of her head, standing awkwardly by the entryway. Countless trinkets that she couldn't discern lined the crowded shelves along the walls of this three-room home. The main entry was the largest, with both the kitchen and the dining area, consisting of a cozy table, a stone stove with no power source, a storage cabinet… To her right, the bed, just one, large for at least three Pokémon of this family stature. And the left, a closed door, Spice knew would be a washroom, though she wondered where the water would come from.

Turning her attention forward again, she saw the 'face' on the Arbok father's chest, glaring angrily at her. Looking up to the true head, she tensed and waited for some sort of ill-made strike.

"You think you can cozy up to my impostor son that easily? Don't think I can be fooled, you silver-tongued temptress…"

"E-excuse me?" Spice stepped back.

"Father!" Leo hissed, breaking away from some silent communication between his mother. "That is my partner for Heart business!"

"It's certainly him, Tari," Leo's mother rasped.

"Gahh, we're old, who knows if we can tell," Tari replied, waving his tail dismissively. "…I know, you're gonna prove it to me. When was the last time you were supposed to visit us, eh?"

"Two moons ago at the peak of summer," Leo replied coolly. "I was the only one of your kids who couldn't make it because I was out on an assignment, but I sent my regards and a gift. I suppose I'm making up for it now."

Tari hummed again, hissing and flicking his tongue in the air. "I heard half'a that, you're mumbling too much. But fine, ya know, that was a detailed answer. I believe ya."

"Now, what's this about bandits?" Leo said, sitting down. "Here, in town?"

"Oh, it was awful!" Leo's mother said. "I—oh, and who are you?" She turned her head to Spice, and for a moment, Spice had to register that she could somehow see—no, sense. Psychics. Of course.

"Er, Salazzle Spice. Part of Team Alight, with Leo. The rest of our team had been taking a break."

Leo adjusted himself again.

"A pleasure to meet you, Spice. My name is Aries. Please, don't mind Tari. He's just being careful after the bandits attacked."

"What bandits? How could there be bandits here?" Leo said urgently.

"Oh, it was awful!" Aries said again. "Bandits. They ran through the wheat fields, kicking up the crops and flooding it, burning it, all kinds off damage! Monstrous! Nearly made it to our homes before a few brave souls fended them off, but oh! Some were badly hurt. It was so lucky that we had some healing supplies left. So rare, an attack, so rare, but it happened…"

"One bandit didn't stand a chance against me!" Tari said, flicking his tongue confidently. "He was so scared of my power that he didn't even come close!"

Spice decided to choose her battles, too. "Leo, do you think it was a mutant?"

"Did you get a closer look?" Leo asked Aries.

"No, I stayed inside as instructed. And Tari was sure to lock the doors, too."

Spice frowned, looking at the door. The knob had fallen off some time ago, it seemed, and Tari might not have even noticed.

This sort of environment never would have passed in the south. She couldn't imagine letting these two live on their own. She flashed a concerned look at Leo, but he deliberately—she was sure of it—looked away.

"Leo, you sound so tired," Aries said. "Why don't you rest for today? You aren't needed back at the capitol, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Leo said. "I suppose I can rest here, if you'll allow it."

"What nonsense phrasing!" Aries reached for a small, wooden stick a few times, then pointed it at Leo. "You're always welcome! I'm going to rest right here on my chair tonight so you can take the bed."

"Now, Mother, that's hardly necessary," Leo said. "I—"

"Don't you talk back to your mother that way!" Tari drawled hysterically. "You're heading there and that's final!"

"It's not even noon," Leo said.

"I can smell how tired you are," Tari said. "Now, go on! Get!"

Leo sighed, nodding at Spice. "I suppose I'll be seeing you," he said. "I do need some rest…"

"And you!" Tari said, pointing at Spice. "If you're gonna try to tempt my son for grandchildren, you better do it nicely! Now go!"

There were so many battles to not fight. But this was one she had to speak for. "We aren't even in the same egg group, you know," she said, glancing at Leo, who shook his head pleadingly.

"Bah, you and your newfangled Orb technology makes anything possible! I heard all about it! You'd make Mew cry, I tell ya, changing the gifts ya got!"

Did he want her to have kids or not?! Spice was about to object, but then realized that she could use this opportunity to speak with Leo anyway.

"…I'll keep it in mind," Spice said to Tari as Leo slipped into his old room.

"Yeah, and be quiet about it!" Tari said, slithering toward the closed door on the other side of the room. "Have some respect!"

He brought his tail forward and pulled on a lever, which opened the door and revealed a washroom; Spice caught sight of what seemed to be a Rainy Orb in the ceiling. She frowned, concerned that it was no longer operational… But the moment the thought crossed her mind, she heard the sound of water filling a sink.

"Oh," Spice said, relief making her shoulders feel lighter. "Your Orb technology is still working?"

"Oh, it is," Aries said. "It's actually a traditionally made Orb, not one from Kilo Village. Tari is… stubborn and old-fashioned about things."

Spice had zero trouble believing this.

"He'll refuse to acknowledge when he's wrong, piling crazier and crazier claims to prove himself right…" She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry you got caught up in it. I promise, he's much sharper than he presented himself."

"I—I wasn't thinking he was senile or anything," Spice lied.

And then Spice remembered Aries was Psychic, based on that gray-eyed, knowing smile. "Well," Aries said, "thank you. He just wants to be useful. Being an Arbok among a family of Delphox has left him… wanting to do as much as he can."

"Oh." Spice hadn't considered that. "Well, like I said. He's probably sharper than he lets on."

"I wouldn't have had a family with him if he wasn't," Aries said. "But Spice, you seem… troubled."

"Well, who isn't? The world seems upside-down, and we haven't even gotten to Kilo Village yet." Spice crossed her arms.

"Mm…" Aries tilted her head. "But Leo sounded worried for you, too. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, that," Spice said, shaking her head—before realizing Aries wouldn't see it. "No, that's nothing. You probably know how much Leo worries for nothing."

"Is it for nothing?"

Right, this was his mother. Delicate words. "He cares a lot for his team," Spice said. "He's only worried that I haven't been sleeping lately."

"For how long?"

"A few days," Spice said.

"A few? How many?"

What was this, an interrogation? Spice kept her voice even. "I stopped keeping track of it. Five, six?"

Aries' blind eyes widened.

"I know, I know, but I really do feel fine."

"Does your family have a history of insomnia?" Aries asked.

"No."

"How about… strange mood patterns? Anything like that?"

"No," Spice said. "Well—my mother, after my sister and I hatched, used to get episodes of confusion and fear, but I've never had those, and also, I don't have kids."

"Hmm… Spice, may I take a closer listen to you?" Aries asked.

Spice tensed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Aries said, sinking into her chair. "I used to be a general therapist. I'm no expert in any one field, but I can help narrow things down to experts if necessary."

"It's not—" Spice frowned, starting to wonder. Six days was bordering on the supernatural. Was this beyond the scope of therapy? "I feel perfectly fine. A little energized, sure, and I don't get tired, but the most annoying part about it is everyone else worrying about it."

"Hmm… May I at least analyze your psyche, then?"

"How invasive is that?" Spice said tentatively.

"Not at all," Aries said. "I don't read your thoughts. I only see if there is any turmoil in your mind. For me to go deeper, I would need your cooperation."

"I'm a Poison, you know. I'm kind of sensitive to Psychic readings."

"Not to worry. My mate is an Arbok, after all."

She had a point. Deciding to comply—if Leo would listen to anyone, it would be her mother—Spice approached Aries and crouched down. "I just sit here?"

"Yes. You don't need to do anything more than answer my questions. Spice, is anything bothering you?"

"Well, the world might be ending."

"Mm… And what about Leo?"

"He's got a few wounds that he's still healing up, because Orans stopped working like they should. But he's better now, so I'm less worried for him. Now that we're at his home, I'm actually feeling a lot better about things."

"I see, mm… And what else are you thinking about?"

"How Kilo Village is doing. A lot of strange stuff has been happening there in hindsight, not to mention that Ice Aggron that attacked a superpowered, creepy Espurr. I don't know. It feels like all of this is somehow related."

"Hmmm…"

"Of course it's related!" came Tari's voice as he slithered out of the washroom. His scales glistened with water. The added depth to his color made him look a few years younger. "Bet it's related to all this nonsense. Those bandits, too, I tell ya. It's all a great omen! Arceus is here to punish us for straying far from the path! Mew, too!"

"Now, we don't know that for certain," Aries said.

"Destiny Tower has risen!" Tari declared. "It's time for new Pokémon to ascend, I tell ya! Why, if I had a few decades off, I'd try and climb myself!"

Aries smiled, and then said, "Tari, I don't know if those stories are true. But perhaps if we're ever lucky enough, we can ask Arceus Himself one day."

"Bah! I'll wait fer death." Tari waved his tail dismissively. "All those floors sound like too much trouble."

Spice had no idea what he was talking about, but it probably had to do with the Book of Arceus. She shrugged it off and asked Aries, "How is my head?"

"Well," Aries admitted, "I don't sense any abnormal turmoil. You… simply aren't tired."

The relief of validation hit Spice first, and then, seconds later, was followed by the same worry. "Then you don't know why I'm like this, either? It won't suddenly kill me, will it?"

Aries frowned. "I'm afraid I don't know," she said. "When you go to Kilo Village, you should seek out a sleep specialist. I know the son of a Hypno who is actually a wonderful therapist. You should look for him when you return. His father rarely failed at his treatments—I think the only one he couldn't help was a Charmander that kept burning his bed from chronic sleep-fighting."

"Right," Spice said. "Sleep specialist."

And now, they were doctor's orders. So much for convincing Leo she'd be fine… "Well, thank you," she said, turning back toward Leo's room. "I'm going to try to rest."

"Take care," Aries said.

"How long do Salandit eggs take?" Tari asked.

Aries gently bopped Tari on the snout. Despite not seeing, she looked like she knew exactly where he was.

Spice sighed, slipping inside Leo's room. "Hey, we need to t—"

He was already asleep. His body was curled around a soft bed of orange fabric stuffed with cotton, head resting on a large, white pillow. She'd never seen him look so dead to the world and peaceful. A small smile curled along her right side.

They could talk later. Leo didn't deserve to be disturbed from a sleep so wonderful. Despite the fact that she wasn't tired at all, Spice felt envious.

Then, hearing Tari hiss sweet nothings to Aries—and Aries giggling lowly back—made Spice realize that now was the perfect time for a walk. A long, faraway walk.

She didn't dare leave through the front entrance. Thankfully, there was a window. Unlatching it—noting that it didn't feel very reinforced—she pulled the wooden door open. It creaked like the rocking chair, but they didn't hear it. She crawled outside and closed it behind her with her tail.

Her scales were tingling again, this time below her—which was unusual. Usually it was to the southwest. On reflex, she lowered her body to the dirt, squeezing her claws into the ground. Eyes closed, she tilted her head. Far away. It was far, far away, whatever it was.

…What was it?

"Erm, excuse me."

Spice perked up to see a Scrafty looking worriedly at her.

"Are you okay?" Scrafty asked.

"Yes. Sorry." Spice pulled herself away from the dirt and brushed off her scales.

Scrafty's eyes immediately darted toward the scar on her chest, so Spice narrowed her eyes in return.

"Like what you see?" she growled.

"N-no! I mean—yes! No? Sorry!" Scrafty quickly brought his head down. "I'm sorry. You must have gone through a lot of trouble."

Spice rolled her eyes. "Whatever, look, I'm just on a walk."

"Do you sense an earthquake coming?" Scrafty asked.

"…No? What?"

"I heard that some Pokémon have a sense for that sort of thing."

"Well, not me."

"What did you sense?"

"I—" Spice wasn't sure why she was answering all these questions. "I don't know. Been sensing strange stuff lately. First from where that vortex is coming from, and then below me."

"B-below? Right under this town?!"

"No. Feels a lot further away than that. Who knows? Maybe it's like one of those stories where a great evil is sealed inside the world's core." Spice shrugged, though she did hope to get an amused reaction from Scrafty. Regret filled her shortly after: she'd never seen so much terror in someone's eyes. "Hey, hey, c'mon, that's stupid. Maybe it's, I dunno, on the opposite side of the world instead?"

"Isn't there nothing but ocean there?" Scrafty said, voice still trembling. "M-maybe it really is a demon in the world's—"

"It's not a demon," Spice said tiredly, shaking her head. "Come on, don't be silly."

"Duh-didn't you hear that voice in the sky, and-and the dark clouds, and—"

He had a point, but Spice wasn't in the mood to hear about doomsday theories. "Look, forget I said anything. I haven't had sleep in…" She forgot. "A while. Maybe I'm starting to hallucinate."

Scrafty frowned, looking skeptical. And she couldn't blame him; aside from the first impression, she felt perfectly fine.

After an awkward silence, Spice eventually said, "Don't worry. Now, I'm going for a walk. Official… Heart business. So don't—"

A distant thunderclap gently jostled the air. Spice couldn't tell which direction it came from; first it was from the left, then a little while later, from behind. All around like an enclosing shockwave. Her scales felt like electricity.

"…Probably nothing," Spice lied. But this time, she saw a little of her own fear reflected in Scrafty's eyes.

Owen didn't have as much luck with finding berries this time around, so he settled for getting as much of the tree taffy as he could to satiate his appetite. His jaw hurt from all the chewing he had to do, and he was starting to get the feeling that his stomach was starting to get wise to the fact that it was being fed mostly fiber and red water. Even after he had taken down what he was sure was his whole head's worth of wood, his gut still felt empty. He had to find something to eat soon—and something that wasn't foul from a day of being left to rot, either.

Eventually, he heard the sound of running water. While he hoped it was clear, he knew not to get his hopes up—and, indeed, the river was red with the same dust that permeated the land. He scrambled to the edge and drank his fill—he was desperate enough at this point that the taste was a mere afterthought—and then tried to decide which way to go.

The river was only a short way across, but it seemed deep. Swimming through it in his state ran the risk of drowning. It was only a stone's throw across, perhaps ten feet, but for a Charmander—a starving Charmander—that could spell death. Owen hesitantly glanced at his flame; no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he'd never seen the flame so small. Its width was less than the middle of his tail. Never a good sign if he was supposed to be in decent condition.

The thought of food had crossed his mind several times. Some Tamato soup—spicy and burning against his tongue. Perhaps some potatoes to go with it, fried in the juices so it took on that same spicy flavor. And what if there was some meat in it? Fake, plant-based, or from a real, living creature—Owen wondered if he'd be able to have something substantive soon. Anything. Did he even have the strength to hunt? Because he likely would have no choice but to hunt; he hadn't seen a sign of any kind of society in a while.

Maybe he could eat another patch of berries. Or just a vegetable. Anything? Something to dig his teeth into, to feel it pressing against his cheeks. To have a full mouthful of soft food, or hard food that pressed against his gums with every bite of his sharp teeth.

He was drooling. The Charmander quickly wiped his mouth—had anybody seen him? But no, there was nobody. As usual.

The river came from the dark forest; the water flowed away from it and into the black plateau fields. Which way? Going upstream, would he find a settlement of any kind? But the forest was also dangerous. He could run into the same creatures that had hurt Amia—did the wraiths live there? But downstream, it was nothing but a wasteland. Perhaps if he had more supplies, but…

But Amia was probably still there. Owen couldn't remember many details about what had happened when he had first died, but the ground was dry. The forest's ground was damp. If he was reformed somewhere nearby—in a dry location like the plateau fields—then did the same go for Amia? If she died there, was she still wandering around, a Ralts lost and confused? What would she be capable of?

That settled it. Amia was the top priority—it was the only thing that he knew in this world, and going in some blind direction wasn't going to help. He had a sense for where he had been last time; perhaps, if he got within range again, he'd find her the same way.

Owen followed the river at a careful distance; even if he fell or stumbled from weakness, or strayed too far from his wobbly path, he didn't want to risk actually falling into the river unless he needed a drink. He was tempted to try to clean and freshen himself up, but he didn't think it was a good idea with how disoriented he was feeling. Thankful that he was lucid enough to realize this, he dedicated what energy he had left to finding signs of life.

Bigtail left.

Charmander didn't want to watch that happen like so many of his other siblings. Charizard was so happy to see him go, giving him well-wishes and a proud Flamethrower. Bigtail had launched an ember into the flames, perhaps symbolic that one day he would be able to match her power, or perhaps that his flame would never truly leave hers.

When the family tradition had started was unknown to Charmander, just that it was.

And now Redscale was marching over the burned fields with the other Charmander, each one eager to go and find their human.

Smallflame remained behind, sitting with his father.

"You've been strong enough to get a human for a while," Marowak said, tapping his bone club on a nearby rock. Tap tap tap. Charmander knew it was because he was thinking about something. He was always so quiet—Charizard liked that about him—and when he spoke, it always had meaning. Layers to what he said. He was a smart Marowak. Smarter than most Pokémon. Probably smarter than him, too.

"I guess," Charmander said. He reached for a stick, burning the end to pass the time.

"You don't want to go, like Bigtail?"

Of course he'd ask that. Ever since Charizard talked to him about her late trainer, all the wonderful adventures that they'd been through together, the eternal ember that she claimed existed in that human… He'd never listened to the story so intently before. But were humans really all that good?

He still didn't understand why they interacted with humans so often in the first place. Was there a point to it at all? He wished they'd just gone to some faraway place that humans didn't bother with, instead of right next to a weird building where neighboring Squirtle and Bulbasaur would occasionally pester them for playdates. Which he also found bothersome. Either he was afraid of getting soaked by a Squirtle that didn't understand that water was bad, or he was trying to calm down a skittish Bulbasaur that didn't understand that fire was good.

"Can't I stay like Redscale?" Charmander asked.

"Well, you can…" Marowak looked down. "But don't you want wings?"

"I'll get them."

Marowak frowned, looking at the human building down the path. "Redscale is our oldest child, Smallflame. He wanted to stay, and that was fine and his choice. He wasn't interested in wings. He was interested in letting all his other siblings have wings, but… So many of his younger brothers and sisters already have them. And we don't know if he will become strong enough, fast enough to get them before he is too old."

Smallflame grumbled. "Because humans… make us stronger."

"There's something special about humans that lets Pokémon get stronger, faster. And that's especially true for us. If you want wings in time to live your life as a Charizard… you need a human. Your mother, and your mother's mother, and so on… They all followed the tradition of joining a human so you can grow, together."

"Then what about when I become a Charizard? Can I just leave my human?"

Marowak's bony mask made it impossible to read his expression unless he wanted it read. But this time, his eyes were smiling. "If you want to, you can leave whenever you want, Smallflame. But when you meet your human, I don't think you will."

At some point, Owen referred to them as 'days,' because he didn't know what they were otherwise. They felt shorter than days, but he tired quickly, and used the opportunities of stopping for a meal of wood, drinking from the lake, and finding a safe cave to sleep a day. He didn't have the fortune of running into another abandoned pot of stew—not that he'd want to risk that again. But soon, as his wood dried and his supplies dwindled again, he grew more and more desperate for something to eat.

He had visited a few caves and happened upon two more of those odd crystals. One was red with a flame emblem inside. Another was a curious white with a circular emblem. He still didn't know what they were, but they were shiny, and pretty, and his hands weren't very full with anything else at that point.

The sparse landscape allowed for a lot of time to think. His thoughts were starting to become repetitive, obsessive. They circled around Zena and how she might have still been fighting somewhere in these wastelands. He wondered if she was able to find anything to eat here, like berries, or at least something better than wood. How were Demitri and Mispy doing? Mispy was always hungry. Hopefully she wouldn't try to eat Demitri.

That—that wasn't a real danger, was it? She wouldn't dare. Then again, she dared to eat her bed. And did. Owen wouldn't mind eating a bed at this point. Or maybe a bed of leaves in a salad. He wasn't sure what would kill him first, the hunger or the wraiths that were surely hidden somewhere, watching him. Waiting for the next moment he had a chance to eat. Were wraiths edible?

He rubbed his forehead roughly and growled, but he didn't dare release an ember. He didn't know where the energy for Ember came from, but he was sure that at least some of it was drawn from his food, maybe. He should have asked Star back before she became horrible.

The ground rumbled again. It had been so long since the last tremor that Owen didn't know what to do with himself. He searched for a large boulder to hide behind, but then realized the nearest one was too far away. His pulse quickened. What was he supposed to do now? He spun around when another rumble got to him, and then he saw—

It saw him.

It was at least three plateaus away, but it saw him. An orange speck in the purple dirt. His flame—could the giant thing see it? And those colorful crystals in his possession—were they bright? Did the titans sense them?

Owen ran—no need for stealth now—and searched for a cave to hide in. But would that even matter? It would just pull him out if he tried.

That shaking was even louder. Owen looked back and squeaked. This titan had four legs and was bulkier than the first one that he'd seen. He didn't know if it had a face; it didn't seem to have a—no, its head just grew out of its shoulders, not unlike Elder emerging from his shell.

It was walking toward him. Directly toward him. Every stride took it across the plateaus by at least halfway between them. In just ten of those slow strides, it would be right on him.

Another thump, and then another, each one shaking the ground a little more. Owen noticed that the very dust on the ground was disturbed by them, now. Tiny shockwaves that went ahead of him and faded into the distance.

It was running. Running toward him. Owen's heart pounded, the little energy he had left going all into his legs.

And then it roared. It was that same roar—this was the same titan from before, had to be, that sounded like the entire world whispering through the air, screaming at him.

He also felt the presence of another crystal—a dull one, like when he had sensed Amia. It was coming from the titan; perhaps a few of the crystals were lodged inside its body. Owen didn't want to find out; any closer and it'd probably crush him.

His heart skipped a beat, that dull feeling, that Mystic pull, tugging at the back of his mind. Did that behemoth have a Mystic aura? It was so close, now, that he could feel it. It was faint, but it was there, the same way Amia had felt. Why did it feel like that? What would happen to Owen if he got captured?

He had to hide, and it was right behind him, and if it got him, some primal part of his mind told him that he had to avoid it more than death itself.

So, he jumped into the river.

The painful heat that ran through his legs suddenly became a bitter cold that stabbed at his chest. An instant later, it spread to his tail, but by now he was used to the concept of water shock. Waking up at the bottom of the lake was already bad enough—what more could be done here?

He didn't remember to take a breath. Could he risk surfacing? He tried to look up, but he had no idea where it was. Instead, Owen went to the riverside, keeping his tail in the water against all instincts, and pressed the tip of his muzzle out of the water. He breathed deeply—surely he was too small for it to hear him—and sank underwater again.

The ground shook—he felt it when his claws dug into the riverside, but the water was so thick with red that he couldn't see clearly. Only brightness, and darkness, where the sky was and where the riverbed was.

His lungs burned again. Before he had the chance to take another breath—he was so frantic—he heard the rumble again, and stopped. If he raised his head now, it would surely try to take him. He pushed his body downward, a bit below the water's surface. His tail bubbled, struggling to stay alight, not that it mattered anymore. It was already producing steam, but the bubbles, he prayed to a god that probably didn't hear him anymore, wouldn't be noticed.

He had to stay calm. Calm so his breath could last longer; calm so, if something happened, he could outlast it.

The rumbling shook his body, and then he heard a splash. For a split-second, Owen thought that was it, that he'd be taken, especially when a huge wave overtook the water above him, bringing huge lumps of mud over his body. His entire body went up, and then fall, fall, fall—slam into the ground, but his fall was cushioned by all the water and mud around him.

The thing had dug out a whole segment of the land, and Owen was caught up in it. He was out of the lake, but now he was under an insurmountable pile of mud.

And then everything was quiet. Owen couldn't see anymore; he kept his eyes closed. He didn't know which way was up. Mud covered all parts of his body.

His chest burned. No time; even if he outlasted it, if it left and he was stuck, there was no use in trying to stay hidden. He reached forward—he still had one of the crystals in his hands, the green one. It was a struggle against the mud, but if he moved slowly enough, it parted for him.

He kept moving. More resistance. Was this even the right direction? He didn't know which way was up—he had to breathe—but was he just going deeper? He couldn't see anything—just one breath, a little air—but could he sense up and down some other way? The mud was too thick—could he breathe mud? His body thought so—no, that was no good. Maybe the crystal—yes, the crystal!

The mud wasn't all that compressed. He probably wasn't too deep in the mound. He had to go up. The crystal, if he made some room, would go down. He wiggled his arm—HE NEEDED AIR NOW—and released his grip. There was open air above the crystal—it felt hollow as the mud lost its moisture—but it stayed in his hand.

What did that mean? Was that up? Crystal, in hand. Crystal, hand. Air. Air. AIR. AIR. Hand, crystal. Hand below crystal. Hand, down. Crystal, up. So up was behind him? No. Front. Up was front. Push front.

Using the crystal to guide him, he pushed his hand forward and followed it. He used the sharp end to dig a hole, and then his hand broke through. He was squeezing so hard that the crystal fell out, but that didn't matter. That was an opening.

He pushed his arm, then his shoulder—he wanted to cry, as did his lungs if they had eyes—and then out came the head.

Why did air hurt so much?

It was such a relief at the same time, though, but he'd breathed in too fast. He coughed and sputtered—he still couldn't see—and had forgotten about the titan. At some point, the rumbles had stopped. The mud came off easily, at least; after a few globs from his face, he could open one eye to see—blurrily—that the titan was on the other side of the small river, digging in the dirt. Realizing this, he quickly brought the mud back over his face, leaving only a small hole to peek through.

The water spread across the dusty ground, turning it all into some strange, sea of thick red, like coagulated blood. It reminded Owen of mashed berries, or ground meat, maybe both at the same time. The crystal shined near the bottom of the mud pile; hopefully the giant wraith-thing wouldn't notice it. It seemed more occupied trying to find him, anyway.

Eventually, it must have lost interest, because it stopped digging and wandered away. The relief that followed almost outweighed the general heaviness in his chest. With his remaining strength—at this point didn't know where it was drawn from—he pulled himself out of the mud and rolled limply to the bottom of the mound, landing on the crystal with an annoyed grunt.

A small ember filled his body with warmth, starting from the tip of his tail, spreading to his gut, and finally to his chest and head, like sinking into a warm pit of lava. The soft, usually imperceptible drone of the flame was like music. An indifferent wind blew over the destroyed riverside, chilling the water and leaving small ripples over the puddles beside him.

Owen didn't realize until later that he was laughing.

How many ways did he just avoid dying? First, there was the obvious threat of getting eaten, crushed, or who knows what else by that giant wraith. Second, there was the simple act of drowning, or water shock, or anything to do with a Charmander being submerged under water. Did starving also count? That was a third one. He was still at risk of that. But the fourth—perhaps the worst of it all—was suffocating under the mud. Even after escaping from everything else, what a way to go.

His laughter settled down from fatigue. Everything was blurry. Perhaps just a short rest was in order; after all, he didn't really have anything else to…

Something was flying across the sky. It was a black dot—no, gray. Black was the wraith he had just evaded. Gray? The Charmander narrowed his pupils, focusing on the distant object with more clarity.

That's an Aerodactyl.

It came circling around again. The wide bank suggested he was scouting for something, but was also cautious of the wraith, though by now it was far into the plateaus. The altitude suggested he was flying below the plateaus, probably so he didn't get spotted.

Owen wondered if blending in was the best option now. He wiggled his tail, trying to push it out of the mud. The gentle warmth of his flame was there, but weak. Jerry probably couldn't spot him… It had to be Jerry.

Weakly, Owen brushed away at the wet mud, hoping that some of his cream and orange scales showed in the mess. Jerry circled around again, getting closer this time.

Did he have some other way to get known quickly? He didn't have the energy for a flame. If he tried, it would probably just be smoke and—

Smoke…

Owen breathed in, wondering if he still had it. Surely, he did. A technique he should probably rely on much more often now that he was so weak. What felt like cloudy bile collected in the back of his throat, and then he spat.

Messy, but it got the point across: A wobbly, black sphere escaped him and popped in midair, sending huge plumes of smoke all over the area. He could only see the vaguest of silhouettes, now, but the Aerodactyl was coming a lot closer.

If it wasn't Jerry, would he be food?

"You better be Owen somehow," the Aerodactyl said with a murmur.

At least he wouldn't get eaten twice. Owen laughed, raising an arm to wave in what he was certain was the wrong direction. "Jerry…"

"I can't believe it. Which one should I remark on first? The fact that you've got a foot in the grave, or that you're a Charmander for some reason?"

A winged claw grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out of the mud, which had come close to solidifying around his warm body. After setting him on his feet, Jerry looked Owen over and growled with concern. "You're a mess."

Owen plopped onto his rear and slumped over. "Sorry," Owen said, though he was still grinning. His voice, in the back of his mind, surprised him. He lost track of how many days he'd gone without talking. After the first two, when he had run out of food, he had stopped speaking to conserve energy. And that had been several days ago. A handful at least. A Charizard's handful, not a Charmander's handful. Tiny hands. Tiny Charmander hands. At least he had better fingers. "Ran into a lot of trouble." Owen said at some point.

"A lot of trouble! Understatement of the century. Which probably means you made five more of those, huh? Mister half-millennium."

"I might be even older," Owen mumbled absently.

Jerry tried to help Owen up, but nothing he did was enough to get him to his feet.

Owen laughed again, still leaning his weight against Jerry's wing. It hadn't fully registered to him that the Aerodactyl had even arrived; everything felt like a dream. A happy, relaxing dream. Jerry felt so warm.

"Hey, HEY! Owen, you idiot, don't—aghh, there we go…"

Everything was dark. The mud felt so cozy. So cozy. Just a small nap…

That was odd. Owen was starting to get used to the feeling of confusing dreams and his memories of some other time returning to him. But this time, he felt like he was nowhere, floating yet heavy on a ground that didn't exist below him.

Hello? Owen called to nothing.

And, predictably, nothing replied back.

So dark. Was his tail flame extinguished? He felt alive. Then again, between the Orb, eating his old body, and being Mystic, the idea of death had lost its meaning a long time ago.

So bright! Owen squeezed his eyes shut and it still shined through his eyelids.

He saw a star, but he couldn't tell how many sides it had. Unable to hold on any longer, Owen slipped away again.