An enormous cavern emerged over the final hill. From the outside, George thought the mountains had been split open by an earthquake. Two pillars held up the ceiling by the entrance, leading rows of similar columns holding up the brick ceiling further inside. Though the entrance and pillars were massive, a sentry stood guard in each gap; the winged held the higher routes, while the grounded guarded the lower routes. More of the former guarded the entrance than the latter.

And though dusk was upon the Dragonspines, the dragons themselves hadn't slowed down. Winged dragons flew in and out of the caves, large bags attached to their torsos or legs. Food, intelligence, supplies; the dragons' purpose was anyone's guess. Moments after George crossed the hill, he sensed vast amounts of eyes pointing his way. It wasn't even psychic: That sixth sense that you were being watched had survived the transition between worlds, it seemed. Then again, when a group emerged on the horizon, any guard worth their salt paid attention.

"Look alive, folks. We're here." Morticia guided interest with a wave of her fins. For a split second, she bared her teeth, then pointed ahead. "Cedran. Pallon. I will take care of our guests from here. Time for you two to report back; you are dismissed."

"Aye, boss!"

"Got it, boss!"

With a wave of a talon, Morticia sent the two Druddigon on their way. The guards let them through without hassle; kin didn't fear kin in the Dragonspines. As they vanished into the caves, the Garchomp spun back around.

"Alright. Let's make a few things clear before going any further, yes? First things first, we are graceful hosts. But this is not a fun little Agatean tea party. Nor are we Rubyfolk inviting half the neighborhood over for dinner. Don't lollygag, and don't stick your nose in someone else's business. Especially the civilians." She bared her teeth again. "They've had it hard enough as is."

Hein took a bow. "Fair enough. I suppose there is no harm in reminiscing a little?" he asked, the band on his antenna glowing in the dark.

Morticia shrugged. "We've been over that already, haven't we? Who am I to deny a veteran their memories?"

George gritted his teeth, glancing at Hein from the corners of his eyes. 'A stupid someone, I'll say that much. You know, Hein's not even a veteran. It's not like he's ever stopped fighting, has he?'

"Thank you," the Dusknoir answered. "You will hear no complaints from me, then. Though my companions may have mixed opinions on the matter."

Terez folded her arms, and stepped up beside Hein, one lock of hair dangling between her eyes. "As long as this is not a trap, I'll have no complaints. Anything better than that is a kind gesture. I certainly appreciate spending a starless night indoors, for once."
"Oh, don't shed it. Anyone leaving their fellow 'mon outside in these times is a Garbodor," Morticia joked. "Feel free to spend however long you like, outside of whatever business you want to do. But before we go any further, someone hasn't been very engaged so far, shall we say."

Without names being named, George knew she meant him. Sure enough, one eye roll later, he found the Garchomp staring right at the tuft of fur on his head, her talons damn near digging into her hips while waiting for an answer. Then she swept one of her legs sideways, in a way that reminded him of a different Garchomp.

"Well?"

"Right," the Dewott muttered. "First off, what's your plan for us? And second, I'm guessing we're not allowed to roam around, either? Just follow you around, maybe take in the sights?"

"Interesting questions," Morticia remarked, sticking her tongue into one of her cheeks. "First, we'll have a little talk with my husband. He and I are in charge here… we're plenty experienced with governing our people, shall we say. He was the mayor, I was the police chief. Second? I'd prefer it if you followed, yes. Plenty of time to look around later."

George nodded along. "Fair enough," he muttered, biting his lip. 'Let's not get into an argument right here. Last thing I need right now.

Morticia clicked her tongue so loud it echoed. "Here goes, then!" she said, tail swaying while walking towards the guards without waiting on the others. This tour went at her speed. That's the message George understood, in any case. He went from nibbling his tongue, to drawing blood.

'Real friendly of her.'

She hadn't lied to them, at the very least; the guards raised their heads in acknowledgement as she entered, exposing their necks to a swift strike. One cut from those fins and talons, and they'd be finished. They didn't lower their heads as their guests walked on by, either, though watching eyes tracked the trio as they followed.

Inside, Further defenses were built between the pillars; little walls of rubble blocked the way further, and one had to cross a checkpoint on the ground to get further in. Once again, the guards raised their necks and kept their eyes peeled, no questions asked. Morticia waved as she passed. Hein, Terez and George kept to themselves.

Past the checkpoint, they reached the end of the main cavern. Light came through from above; a hole in the mountain extended to the top, a window blocking the way out. Walkways suspended above blocked a full view, but George's interest went deeper than seeing a full window. Not all was as it seemed; psychic energy teemed in the air, flowing upwards.

He wasn't alone in having his curiosity peaked, though. Hein's eye panned over the area, his body fully turning as he floated through the center of the space. "Fascinating," the ghost remarked, the wispy end of his ectoplasm flickering back and forth. "You would never have guessed he died here."

"Hm?" Morticia spun around on one foot, tail dipping down. "What, did you find his tombstone?" she quipped, smirking.
The Dusknoir raised a pointer before him. "My memory hasn't faded since that day, miss. Even if it did, I would not have forgotten it. Watching him croak was one of the most pleasing momnets of the last century."

Morticia was taken aback by this, stepping back from the Dusknoir. "Not even kidding?" she asked.

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" the Dusknoir retorted with folded arms. The Garchomp's surprise turned into laughter.

"Point taken."

George kept one ear perked up, but Morticia and Hein lost him halfway. He shrugged, and kept staring towards the ceiling, dragging his tail over the tiles as he halfheartedly kept pace.'So Yveltal died right here? Is that where the hole came from?' he pondered. Eravate's history remained hazy, the year of the death god's demise a mystery. Some fifty years in the past, if memory served correctly. Hein had been dead and been at war for a few years then.

'For the site of a big battle, this place is clean. I know it's been half a century, but you'd think a god would leave his mark. Well, Hein probably wouldn't want to call this Yveltal a god, but still.'

The window for questions was on the verge of closure, however, as Morticia led the way forward, and Hein needed little reminiscing. Given the time, the Dusknoir had plenty of time to relive that day. Must've been like dipping himself into a hot spring. George had his thoughts though. Perhaps Terez did as well.

"Hey, Terez?"

"Yes, George?"

"You're feeling it too, right? All the energy in the air?" the Dewott pointed at the hole in the sky, just before they entered the tunnel at the other side of the hall. "What do you think it is?"

The Gardevoir breathed in deep, shutting her eyes for a second. "Perceptive of you, George. It's a psychic illusion you're sensing, right above the ceiling. Not the strongest one, I must admit, but an illusion nonetheless. It's only a one way illusion, however. You can look out from the inside, but the unenlightened wouldn't suspect a thing on the outside. They would be seeing grass and stones."

"Huh." 'Don't think she's ever told me about those.' "And why are you saying it's a weak illusion? Can you feel that from down here?"

"To an extent, yes," Terez went on to explain, "I can tell the illusion was set up from a distance. The bottom of the cave, in all likelihood. That already makes creating a convincing one challenging, but I have a feeling there's a lack of experience at play here as well. Even down here, my senses should be more in tune, but they aren't."

George raised an eye at her. "That's strange, though," he said, whiskers twitching. "Wouldn't a stronger illusion be more challenging to notice, even for a trained psychic?"

"Not if you know what you're looking for," Terez continued. "It's the difference between stepping in a puddle by accident, and stepping in one on purpose. If you made a mistake, the puddle will always seem deep. On the contrary, it feels shallow if you know what you are doing…" She breathed in again, gathering her thoughts. "The analogy isn't perfect, I will admit. But the key is that you shouldn't know the illusion is there if you're not paying attention, and you should feel it strongly if you know what you're looking for. "

"Right," George affirmed. 'So psychics should be able to tell how strong an illusion is, provided they're looking for it. Huh.'

Morticia led the trio away from the cavern, the tunnel ahead leading to a large staircase. Most of the space was dedicated to steps, with grooves on the sides for the nonlegged - not every dragon had legs, so the saying went. Woe be to the winged, however; even if you wanted to fly, the tunnels left little space for flight. There was no wind to speak of, either.

One tunnel gave away to another, which in turn led to another. George had the impression the deeper caves were dug in a grid pattern, with tunnels branching off to other caverns. Some dragons kept guard, others sat with their backs against the wall, looking decrepit and miserable. Civilians, in the Dewott's eyes. Did they have enough food? Was there no room to live? What about possessions, and supplies?

Knowing Morticia was not open to exploring the matter, George kept his mouth shut, lest the Garchomp shut it for him. He clenched his fists behind her back.

'Can't ask questions, can I? Like usual? God forbid anyone tells me anything… it's not like I want to help, right?'

Frustrations built up as George followed into a large chamber at the end. They must've gone straight ahead about four times. The room was not much more impressive than any of the other caves; one dusty banner bearing a claw print hung on the wall on the far side, a large table standing below it. Several guards raised their heads on the way in, blocking access to the boxes stacked behind them. George's eyes narrowed: nothing was written on the boxes. But the scent of various berries filled up the room, and the source was no mystery.

'So here's the food, huh'

"Welcome back, honey! And welcome, guests!"

A fierce jangling came from further in. George's ears twitched as the sound reverberated. It resembled the clanking of chainmail armour, which he recognised from a school trip to a history museum. He bit his lip. Chainmail, medieval times. In a way, that's where he'd ended up, only the people were all animals, himself an otter, and none wore armour that hadn't been a gift from mother nature. In this case, a Kommo-o's scales produced the sound.

Morticia had long crossed the room by the time George figured things out, brushing the Kommo-o's face with the back of a talon. "Why, Sol, it'll take more than a bad day to put this old hag down. Don't you agree?"

"'Old Hag'? Hah, do you have Delphox blood you've never told me about?"

"You know what I mean, you jangly bastard."

Both dragons gave each other a shove, then simultaneously brushed each other's faces with a claw and talon. In no time at all, their free arms were behind each other's backs, and they pecked each other on the snout. All this, while their guests watched and waited, their emotions miffed.

"Ahem." echoed a weary voice as the dragons separated. Both heads turned; the Dusknoir's fists pressed into his sides as he stared right through them. "May I advise you to take this… somewhere private?"

Next to Hein, Terez and George's eyes narrowed by the second, to the extent no one could see them roll their eyes. 'Yeah. What he said.'

Morticia snickered as they separated. "I'm sure to take your cultural ideas to heart, flatlander. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is the second in command, and my husband. I'd tell you his name, but he can do that himself, can't he?"

"Not even a question honey," the Kommo-o replied, running one of his talons down a scar on the Garchomp neck. He grinned, patted his scales down, rattled his tail around, then raised his head to the trio. "Solhynin is the name. Don't let my wife fool you, we dragons are far more mellow than you might believe. I primarily handle the civilians, while Morticia handles the military side of things. 'Tis not the most efficient division, perhaps, but it works for us."

"For now, yes," Terez muttered at a low volume, before clearing her throat. "Ahem! I would like to ask you something before we discuss anything else. Do you not involve anyone else in this… operation of yours? Why the wife and husband duo?"

"Ah." Morticia shrugged, then ran her tongue across the back of her teeth. George frowned, then took a slight step back. Already he had ideas about her forming in his head. Not just of her less than amicable etiquette; the look in her eyes revealed a lack of trust, directed towards Terez of all people. Not the Lone Eye beside her, nor him. "Simply put, our people have full faith in us. We've discussed these things internally. I myself have been in charge of security around town for… crap, damn near three decades now, haven't I?"

Solhynin nodded, the huge scales on his head jangling along with him. "Sure has. Me though? I'm more of a social worker. Not even the mayor, just a very visible figure in day to day life, shall we say."

Morticia chuckled. "Allow me to translate. My husband has been an alderman for about the same amount of time. Three decades altogether. To make a long story short, we're old, we're trusted, and not too old for this crap. If there's any issues the people have, we're always open to hear it. That's all there is to it."

"Fair enough," Terez remarked. "Always helps to get confirmation on these things, wouldn't you agree?" she said, finally raising her head herself, albeit in a way that didn't leave her vulnerable. The dragons noticed, and cautiously nodded along.

"Certainly," Solhynin said.

George bit down hard on his cheek. Hein, Terez, Morticia and Solhynin were exchanging stares with one other. Any chemistry between the parties seemed to have evaporated. 'I'm not liking this. Another club where one or two do all the talking, no questions asked. Wish I could just… not have to deal with this any longer.' He glanced over his shoulder. Half a dozen dragons stood guard by the entrance. 'Urgh.'

Introductions came and went. Morticia knew them already, of course, and it didn't take long to enlighten Solhynin of the same. Two dragons cut from the same cloth, and what worked on one was as effective on the other. Alas, the tone of the conversation didn't remain friendly for long. Both sides had plenty of questions to ask. Morticia fired the first shot.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we? What are you here for? Where do your loyalties lie? And why did you come to our village?"

"Hmpf." Hein shrugged, the glow in his eye fierce. "Our mission is a complicated one. We aim to make our way north, towards Whitiara. The final refuge of the Vined Crest. We aim to make as many allies as we can; we are representatives of the Swords of Justice. Our goals are the same as yours. We both want the Renegade gone. Permanently."

"And how do you plan on achieving that?" Morticia prodded further.

"With him," Terez said. George sensed her finger pointed to his head; his ears flicked back as he clutched the Azure Flute hanging from his neck, in all its half complete glory. "You might be familiar with him. He is Othersider George. With him is the Azure Flute," she explained. Next came a story George could recite in his sleep, of his and the flute's powers versus the Renegade. Still it sounded vague, and a long shot.

"The famous Othersider," Morticia exclaimed. She ducked until her tail was on the floor, eyeing George from up close. The Dewott gritted his teeth; even crouched, she had the height advantage. "So that's who all the drama's been about. Curious!"

"Ergh." 'Can you stop looking at me like that?'

"If I may?" While his wife was busy studying George's down to his fur, Solhynin asked questions aplenty. "That's quite the plan you have. But don't they seem Farfetch'd to you? All that's missing is the leek!"

The joke landed on deaf ears. "Explain yourself," Hein demanded, hands gripping tight to his arms as he folded them.

Solhynin scratched his neck, the scales on his arms clattering. "It doesn't seem like much of a plan, does it? More like… a bunch of beginning steps. Find the folks that haven't been Corrupted, try and get them on your side, then try to organise all of that without getting destroyed, and then what? Have faith in the Dewott, here? No offense or disrespect, but he is just a boy! He doesn't look that old."

Hein glared at the Kommo-o. No disrespect intended, but all of the offense taken. "So? Do you have any idea what we are up against here? Boy or not, there is no choice. And you barely know him. I have been through hell and back for this lad. And I have long experienced my fair share of hell."

The mood soured as the Dusknoir's voice grew dire. And it didn't get any better as the three argued among themselves. Glancing beside him, George saw Hein on the verge of yanking the Kommo-o's heart outt, Terez looking confused yet agitated, and Solhynin keeping up the heat. Patient, stern, and stubborn as can be. He wasn't about to let anyone push over him, and he had plenty of muscle backing him up.

"I assure you, we aren't asking you questions for the sake of asking you questions, good sir," the Kommo-o replied, holding up his claws in an inviting manner. "We're not in a position to throw our weight around. It's challenging enough keeping everyone fed, and tending to the sick. Plus, we can only keep the peace for so long. The Alliance is bound to come for us eventually. You must understand this, no?"

"Of course I do!" Hein bickered. "That is precisely why you should trust us! We are in the same boat. Would you prefer dying alone, or having allies?" Raising a clenched fist, the Dusknoir wasn't exactly in the mood for diplomacy. And the hosts picked up on that.

"Well, at the moment, you are reminding me more of Crest tax collectors than any ally."

"I am not a tax collector."

"It's a figure of speech."

"Yes, but that is besides the point. We do not have the luxury to bicker over the details! We need to be allies. Or do you think I prefer living a Corrupted life?"

"Of course not. But even you must admit that this all seems out there, no?"

"Did you ever believe the world would fall to pieces like it has today, Solhynin? It certainly seemed 'out there' a few weeks ago, didn't it?"

"Hein!."

By this time, the conversation was on thin ice. Terez knew it, and called out to Hein, to no avail. She was left clutching her arms as her suggestions were ignored,
The Dusknoir's tone didn't moderate, and Solhynin proved himself as quite the wall. His wife didn't intervene; she was more concerned with keeping an eye on George, sniffing him from afar, zoning her slitted pupils in on his face. And all the while, George's nerves grew. First from being searched like some kind of criminal, then from the ruckus happening next to him.

"Honestly, good sir. I've heard all of the Othersider rumors, of course. And of course I know my Othersider history, too. I didn't skip out on my education growing up! But even so, I have some… shall we say, first hand information about this boy. It's not just that he's a boy, he's… quite the volatile character, I've heard. And he hasn't really been making decisions on his own accord, has he? I've barely heard him speak this whole conversation."

"He can talk when he wants to, Solhynin." Hein's glare narrowed ever further. "Perhaps he's chosen not to for a reason. Perhaps he finds this whole interrogation of yours as ridiculous as myself and Terez do!"

Say one thing for Hein, say he had his finger on the pulse. George wasn't happy with the conversation at all, though for very different reasons. Again he'd been sidelined, Hein prattling off and on the verge of blowing a fuse, and the Pokemon they were arguing with throwing him to the wayside like garbage. Why did it always end up this way? Did he just give off a repugnant vibe that made others dismiss him straight away? Was he just a wimp? A kid? A lab rat?

Morticia sure stared at him like one. Solhynin sure didn't look his way twice; he'd already made a conclusion. And Hein? Did his lack of two eyes blind him to the impact this whole mess was having?

It went on and on, in endless circles, talking about priorities and safeties and trustworthiness and possibilities and all the doom and gloom in the world, whether the Swords were just part of that Doom and Gloom or a force against it. Hein ignored Terez, Morticia ignored Solhynin to stare at George.

"To hell with this!"

And George finally gritted his teeth, cursed under his breath, and spun around to leave. He made it five steps before the guards ahead moved to block the exit, and he heard his name.

"Excuse me? George, was it? Where are you going?"

"And look at what you've done! George, stay here, we're not just walking out of here!"

"George? Please, don't go." Footsteps sounded at last. Terez made the first move getting in the way, physically blocking George from setting another step. "We're guests. We can't just leave-"

"Shut up!"

Just as George wanted to reach for a scalchop to throw around, the one 'mon most ready to jump him interrupted.
"Actually? I don't mind. He can leave if he wants to."

Morticia's voice turned heads. Everyone present paid attention; all that time spent looking George over without a word, vanishing into the background like a second spectre haunting the conversation. But now she spoke, and she held everyone's attention.

Solhynin looked flabbergasted. "Honey? Are you sure of that?"

"I sure am," she remarked, clicking her tongue. "As long as he doesn't bother civilians, everything will be alright."

"Excuse me?!" Hein indignantly refolded his arms. "Have you been paying attention? He is critical, here! I do not want anyone talking behind his back!"

"Hein, please," Terez groaned, pushing the Dusknoir away from her. "This is not a hill worth fighting over. Calm down." She sighed. "Morticia, this has been a rough conversation, to say the least, but we should give him the chance to speak. You've been stern with us, and-"

"Are you actually listening to him?" Morticia pointed a talon at George, who by now held his head low. He couldn't even leave without causing a debacle. "Does he look like he wants to talk at the moment? Give him space."

'Just shut up already.' Tired, George smacked himself in the face, then composed himself enough to look Morticia straight in the eye. "Can I leave now?"

The Garchomp nodded, cracking a smile for the first time in a while. "Go right ahead."

George sighed out loud, muttering out a short 'thank you' before turning around, ears folded. The argument continued behind him. The guards cleared the entrance.

'Time to go…'