Arid lay in bed, assessing the embers falling outside with moderate disdain. The burning light of early morning had constantly rejuvenated his fears of the fabled question of 'what if?' Could this morning be his last, paired with the sonorous chirps of proud Altaria? For Arid, who suspected he wasn't alone in asking that question, it was a real possibility.

Golden streaks of sunlight formed a gentle barrier between his restlessness and inner peace. Today would be like most, he suspected. He had survived the night, and the light accompanying morning hadn't reminded him of all his life choices, so there was no excuse for being lazy, not that he wished to relive old recollections...

The day prior carried a murky cloud he'd sooner rather forget. Three houses to the northwest of his village had been reduced to rubble, though not from the fiery rage of Mt. Battle. A Magmar had thought it deeply amusing to attack the village at the break of dawn. The beast had consumed three Sewaddle, one Eevee, and a retired, bedridden Leavanny before Beluh intervened.

She had released her Lapras and killed the Magmar, saved a mortally wounded Hoothoot, and prevented any other feral Pokemon from getting any ideas. It had all lasted less than twelve minutes. Arid shivered under the covers. As he thought of them now, the techniques of Beluh's Lapras were utterly beautiful. The fiery beast's fate hadn't been kind; its ice-cold frame hung stiffly on an arch made of ice at the border shared with Mt. Battle. He considered what the feral pokemon in the wilds did, even to their kin, and thought the Magmar's punishment fair.

Arid stretched, his legs spasming as he did so, watching the sunlight brighten the shoji screens overhead. He yawned before mindlessly patting his bedside table, searching for his calendar and green pen. It was the most awful tradition he'd picked up, but Arid wasn't about to stop now.

Much as he had done for all the other days prior, ticking August twenty-third off was a relatively pleasant task for Arid. He had never considered searching for its red counterpart underneath his bed. He laughed at the thought. If he managed to escape damnation, marking a red cross on a calendar seemed excessively vindictive for his liking.

He rolled out of bed and went to stand, but something moved in his peripheral vision, making him stop. A gust of wind blew through his bedroom. Suddenly, sleep became the last of his worries. Nobody locked their windows in Agate Village. It was an old tradition, after all. However, Arid knew he had left his shut after the Magmar attack.

Something scraped the underside of his foot. Too frightened to scream, which he would never do, Arid peered down at the bedside rug. A pile of sticks and trampled flowers led from the once soft (indisputably not pink!) rug to the screen furthest from the bed, where he had initially spotted the peculiar movement, along with a tiny shadow.

He carefully closed the sliding screen after ensuring that every gift had been noticed. Then, he made sure that the window was securely shut and locked. Afterwards, he hastily dressed to avoid being tempted to return to bed. He wore a pale shirt with matching jogger bottoms and black shoes. As Arid slid the fusuma leading to his bathroom aside, an icy feeling washed over his heart. It passed as soon as it came, hiding in the darker recesses of his mind.

He blinked owlishly at his reflection. Sixteen years had passed since his birth on the fourth of December; he felt it had only been yesterday. Brushing his teeth with a little more vigour than usual, Arid gave his skinny frame a brief look of shame before spitting his bland toothpaste into the sink. He watched – the soft brown of his eyes slightly narrowing – it swashed up the sides before finally accepting its fate.

He quietly brushed his brown hair. A fauxhawk suited him rather well, he found. While dodging his mother's (Lily Kellan's) endless toiletries, the slight hitch on his nose and pointedness of his chin reflected a far more severe face than he would have liked. He glanced down at his father's clippers. He'd argue that Richard Kellan was probably the only person in the world with clippers designed like a jaw fossil. Regardless, Arid utilised them to the best of his ability against the baby hairs above his lip. He nodded, satisfied at his pale reflection.

Tatami mats guided Arid down the short hallway filled with necessary family heirlooms, most crumbling as he watched them. He followed the hallway's curvature until arriving in a sweltering living room. His mother and father were snoring with their feet under the kotatsu. The old Pokemon music network was playing a gentle hymn that was starting to make him yawn, so he tiptoed into the kitchen and gently closed the door behind him.

He despised the kitchen so much. Other houses that appeared similar to his from the outside were luxurious compared to his on the inside. Thousands of hours of pointless use had worn their kitchen thin. Most of the appliances didn't work anymore. His mother and father loved its 'traditional feel' and thought it set them apart. Arid had a different opinion but kept it very close to the chest.

His parents loved bamboo unlike anyone else. They had bamboo countertops and cabinets, causing quite a stir in their small village. Handling things 'out of the ordinary' took lots of money and favours, of which his parents now had startlingly little. Arid knew how annoyed the builders had been when the request went through. Of course, any bamboo nearby had to be sourced from Relic Forest. Fighting against Pancham and Pangoro was never an easy feat, but taking their bamboo always resulted in broken bones and bruises, which was probably why the kitchen had a few cabinets with dodgy hinges.

Arid moved around the kitchen and turned on the radio as he pulled two slices of bread from the bread bin, slapping them on an old plate. Static met his ears, which was odd considering how obsessed ONBS, run by the Kids Grid of Pyrite Town, was with their morning talk show. As he buttered his bread – a difficult task to do with one hand – Arid cranked the radio twenty-four times, and then patiently waited for the sharp voice of Isabella Everly to meet his ears.

He checked the refrigerator in the mean time for anything to put on his sandwich. Of course, there was nothing. Of the appliances that were either faulty or dead, the refrigerator sadly fell into the latter category. It was with deep shame that he quietly closed the door. In any case, he could enjoy a plain sandwich if his parents could.

The static started to worry him, though. The screen above the tuning button began beeping its dreaded 'failure to find station' light. He breathed a sigh of relief. One to three hours in the sun and the radio would be all right. He grinned stupidly before finishing the second slice of buttered bread; there was nothing to worry about after all.

Unhooking the spare key from the nail beside the door, he spared a glance at his parents and whispered that he loved them. Compared to the hundreds if not thousands of times he'd said it before, this time – which was bordering the dangerous approach of seven o'clock – Arid felt as though it was a goodbye. The feeling didn't leave as he locked the door behind him. Richard and Lily Kellan were perfectly healthy adults. He was still a child. That thought, as weak as it was, helped him walk away.

Lush, dew-covered grass squelched beneath his feet with each step he took from his home. The land around and within Agate Village was always healthy and vibrant. It always somehow managed to brighten his day when nothing else could. His smile waned when he subconsciously turned to face the northwestern side of the village. An encroachment of Ledyba were damaging the restoration efforts in returning the destroyed homes to their previous states. Just north of those Pokemon hung the Magmar; it seemed the Pokemon of Mt. Battle didn't take the clue the first time.

There was something in their eyes – the Ledyba – that seemed far too wild, too worried to seem normal. If anything, it looked like they were pleading with everyone to leave. The radio in Arid's clasp felt very heavy. He was the only one that had a radio and a decent satellite connection to watch television. Maybe it was just a trick of his imagination, but he thought he saw even more Pokemon fleeing down the steep mountain ranges of Mt. Battle.

He walked down the gentle slope leading around patches of daffodils and cherry blossom trees, waving to the sunbathing Cherrim and Bellossom. They waved back with strained smiles before turning their gaze eastward to the Eclo Canyon. Arid walked hurriedly over the pond bridges, paying little attention to the wilting irises and greying lotus flowers bobbing their way gently downstream.

The centre of Agate Village was far from normal. Bone white remnants of what had once been the pride of the village towered seventy-six feet high and bulged at a staggering nineteen feet. The length of the roots had never been measured for good reason; they wormed their way through the bank of the village, passing through thick stone and gentle waters before cascading into Relic Forest.

Eagun – the father and protector of all – had apparently overseen the construction of his home when it had been built into the tree. A small veranda made of oak led away from the home and was surrounded, both in and out, by countless people and their Pokemon. It was there that people were presented with their first small friend for life. Hundreds of different species, all at supposed peace, tamed and ready to assist any new trainer until the end of their days.

It was a lovely thing that Arid loved to see.

He waved at Eagun as the old man wrestled an Evan's from an Applin. Fights such as those were infrequent and rarely ended in injury. However, as Arid had learnt from his father, a dragon never forgets its bullies. Whether or not the coiled menace grew into an Arbok made no difference. Already, the narrowed eyes of Applin spoke of its desire to burn the snake to smithereens.

Had it not been for the gentle aroma wafting in from a sleeping Meganium, there was no telling what would have happened next.

Most of the pathways down couldn't be traversed; the crumbly texture of the white tree's roots offered him little sympathy. Unfortunately, if he went all the way around the village, he risked being late for his job. The thick root cracked beneath his every step. Reminiscing on the time when he'd actually fallen through one, Arid held out his arms for extra balance.

There was a reason why he'd wasted so much of his youth exploring how far the albino worms reached. Around his twelfth birthday, three Spearow had actually cornered him near the southwest overhang. A permanent mist – fraught with dangerous Drifloon and Gastly – had prevented him from following the right path home, and he had accidentally crushed an egg underfoot in a panicked state. The Spearow lurking in the shaded canopy of a nearby tree immediately pecked his knees, arms, and anything else that was exposed. His saving grace had been a small Comfey, who'd ushered him inside the network of roots to escape the rightfully upset family of birds.

Even now, he could remember every hiding spot should he need to use it. Of course, most were too small for him now.

Three hours after the Spearow had finally given up, Arid had returned home with shoes coated in sticky yolk and crunchy eggshells. Even now, he grimaced at the spanking his father had given him. Twigs and berry juice – of which he swore he could still feel on his scalp – had taken seven baths and vigorous head scrubs to be removed from his hair. But it was in those hours that his mind could freely go back and remember all of the funny Pokemon that had cheered him up while he waited for an escape.

Ten minutes into the balancing act, he spotted the mossy slide created by Burmy and Sewaddle. Praising their efforts aloud, he gripped the rusted bars of an old, overgrown swing, sat on the wet path of moss, and forced as much energy into his arms so he could slide all the way to the bottom in one go. Sadly, he stopped three-quarters of the way down, which meant he had to shimmy against the fragile root before safely standing up.

He looked around for any of the bug type Pokemon he'd usually greet every morning. After one minute of silence, it was obvious to Arid that they were all too tired to leave their burrows. It was, after all, a very early morning for them.

Arid spotted the famous clashing waterfall to his left as he made his way down the final path. Several other people in the village had already started casting their lines for the early morning migration of Magikarp. They all glared at him as he walked past, but it had nothing to do with him as a person or that he worked the same job as them.

As lovely and understanding as some people could be, Arid thought curiously as he stepped over a sleeping fisherman. When it involved the opposite sex, envy reared its ugly head and turned people into the worst versions of themselves. The answer was plain as day, especially when the steady thumping of music vibrated down the boardwalk.

Smiling to himself (and giving the other fishermen a hard glare), he kept on walking until he saw the ever-dutiful snitch at the end of the planks. Ducklett flapped its wings in greeting before awkwardly waddling through the nearby globe thistles, blasting the odd spout of water to clear the way.

Arid took a moment – a blatantly unnecessary one – before following the set of webbed footprints into a wide yet peaceful clearing surrounded by small trees and wildflowers.

A large boombox blasted a punk song he'd never heard before. Its volume was so high it looked like it was dancing along to the song. A small pond surrounded the device – the water rippling and splashing – with a snoozing Lotad floating in aimless circles around a severe-looking Ducklett. But without a doubt, the source of real frustration amongst the fishermen wasn't the music so much as it was the one who was blasting it.

Unlike most in Agate, Arid wasn't self-employed. He had been recruited by a foulmouthed woman who thought he was interesting enough to keep around. Her name was Jamie Hen. She had been born two years his senior in the beautiful Phenac City to Ellie Hen and Terry Hen, who chose to retire in Agate and dragged her along for the ride.

Her body was curvaceous with a slight hourglass, and her wavy brunette hair framed the bright tanzanites poorly excused for a normal person's eyes. The Persian eyeliner, freckled cheeks, and thin lower lip had all been a part of catty discussions amongst the girls of the village.

He sat next to her on the very same bone-dry log she'd had him chop down as punishment for letting his first catch escape his grasp. She grunted a 'hello' before sucking on the nib of her pen angrily. She was already hard at work figuring out all the words to the daily crossword challenge. From the way her fingers held a certifiably terrifying death grip on her notepad, he knew to tread lightly. He'd made the mistake of teasing her once, and she'd nearly waterboarded him in response.

"Six across is Tyrunt," he offered gently.

"Fuck's that, then?" she replied, throwing her pen at her boombox.

"Fossil Pokemon aren't easy to remember as they're not really well-known. A Tyrunt's jaw – they literally come from jaw fossils! – are so strong that they can tear through an Aron's carapace! You do remember what an Aron is, don't you?"

"'Course I do! It's the wiggly one. No, that ain't right. Small thing, for sure?"

Arid found it particularly difficult to glance her way, let alone answer her questions. Unlike usual, she wasn't wearing her cargo shorts or black t-shirt and trainers. Instead, she now wore a provocative white tie waist blouse, a bright red bra, low-waisted jeans with the straps of her underwear resting over her hips, and sandals. During her rant, she must have realised – though he hoped in a not-so-murderous way – that he was distracted by something because she raised one of her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

"Perving at me on my birthday, are we? Ha-ha! Look at how red you are. It's brilliant!"

"I'm blushing because I'm embarrassed I forgot that it was your birthday. No wonder I've felt something was off all morning! You can keep my pay for the day; it's all right. Take it as an apology."

She gave him a lopsided grin before nodding.

The setting up of their equipment (more like Jamie's equipment) was a process Arid both loved and hated. He loved attaching the reel to the rod, and he also loved threading the line through each guide. He hated the sound of the reel spool, especially when he needed to adjust the line. The first time there had been a misalignment, the tangle had been so bad he had to ask Jamie for help. Her 'help,' as it were, came in the form of yelling, throwing her pens, and making disparaging remarks.

Arid gave his radio a side-eye. He had left it beside Jamie's boombox. Getting there – especially when he hadn't the slightest clue if Ducklett was in a less grouchy mood than normal – took ten minutes of the time he should have spent choosing his bait for the early morning session.

But, he thought proudly, soon he'd be able to hear Isabella Everly's voice, and everything would move on for the better. If Jamie had an antenna, then he wouldn't have needed to wait at all. She considered it beneath her to use an instrument that 'sticks up all weird', which had earned her a fair ribbing on his end.

"Jamie?" He chewed his lips nervously. "Not that I'm saying you can't, but why are you all – well, dressed up isn't the right word, is it?"

She frowned. "Nah, Mum's a right Miltank. Wanted me a man and thought: Ay, it's the lasses eighteenth! Told me over porridge this morning that I was getting married next week. Can't say I didn't try and choke myself, Arid."

"So you're rebelling by wearing whatever this is?" he murmured, pointing at her… stomach.

"Men hate a woman secure in herself. Threw on the sluttiest outfit this side of Orre; thought, hey, if Edward thinks I'm up for all types, he'll drop the marriage. Adamant, though, so I'll wear somethin' worse tomorrow. At least you ain't staring at my tits. Thought I'd have to sic Ducklett on some of the men. Right prudes, the lot of them."

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Jamie grinned wildly, which made something sink horribly in his chest. She pointed over his shoulder to the edge of the clearing. A pair of round brown ears poked out of a smaller hole dug around a small oak tree. Jamie waved him off as she cast her first line for the day.

"Ferry, is that you?"

Teddiursa – though named Ferry for his love of swimming – waved his honey-covered forepaws and hoisted himself over the ledge of his den. For such a small Pokemon, Ferry had always behaved as though he was an Ursaring every single morning. His puffed, short orange-brown fur stood on end as though he'd riled up a Charjabug for an early morning brawl. The glint of mischief around the white irises of his eyes made Ferry look more like a jester than Pokémon. The pale tan crescent moon marking his face glowed slightly as he groggily marched his way over to the clearing.

"Hi, Ferry." Arid fussed him behind an ear. "Sleep in late, did we? You know that leaving any presents for me could make my life awfully difficult, don't you? No, I'm not angry. But please be more cautious in the future; I saw you leave in the morning, too, so I know you slept in my house last night."

Ferry pointed, frightened, at the cave of the vicious, now-deceased Magmar and then hid behind his paws. A Water-colour blue flower – though named Anemone obtusiloba – that had been tightly tucked behind Ferry's other ear threatened to fall with each of shake of the small Pokémon's head.

"Can't keep giving it shit," said Jamie aloud.

"You gave Ducklett and Lotad some 'shit' when you met them," he shot back.

Ferry joined him for the first cast of the morning, though he soon grew bored. The currents kept pulling Arid's bait away regardless of what he did, so he couldn't blame Ferry's wandering mind.

He'd started to run low on Caterpie and Sewaddle bait by the third hour. Arid checked in on Jamie to see how she was doing. To his surprise, she was just as unlucky as he was. She'd thrown her boombox in a fit of rage an hour later; he felt concerned that he considered the act completely justified. Something was clearly very wrong.

Twenty minutes later, the sky opened up and poured forth its rare grief over the southeastern foothills of Mt. Battle. There wasn't even the usual squawk of irritation from the passing Chatot. Their small wings flapped so hard that Arid could feel the strain. They were headed west so quickly that with each blink of his eye, they were hundreds of feet away from where they had last been.

Ducklett and Lotad watched the event with a shared look of worry. Ferry, on the other hand, was too busy searching for berries to notice the panicked birds.

Arid gravitated toward his radio. There was more than sufficient battery now. He was absolutely certain of it. With each crank, his heart seemed to sink deeper into his chest. All of a sudden, he felt so sick he had to grip the nearest rock to ground himself. His mind wandered (just as Ferry's did) to his parents. Their lessons on how to avoid panicking tempered the storm of fear and worry, slowly but surely making way for reason to return before he passed out. It was astounding, he thought quickly, that he'd maintained his endless cranks at all.

Jamie pulled him beneath Ferry's tree, uncaring of her Pokémon's worried eyes. They were really starting to scare him now.

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"It's prime Magikarp fishing season!" Jamie spat. "Fuckin' hell, Arid! We can't catch a cold, let alone any food! Damned storm gotta have a hand in this, I swear it. Shitty birthday gift, eh? Could tell Mum it's Arceus vouching for my innocence."

Arid had to force his hands to stop shaking as he played with the tuning of his radio. He finally found it: ONBS Morning Talk Show. For a moment – which felt to him like a century – there was only static. Jamie wasn't joking around now; she was gaping at something happening on the boardwalk. She mumbled that she'd be right back. He was pleased when Ducklett and Lotad chased after her.

"PHENAC CITY… UNDER ATTACK! MICHAEL, RUI, AND WES HAVE FALLEN. THE SHINING… CL… SKARMORY… CIPHER HAS ORDERED… AGATE VILLAGE… FLEE!" came the panicked screams of Isabella Everly.

She hadn't the time to repeat herself before a loud explosion came from the other end of the line. Arid tried to stand. Ferry was still picking berries, so he couldn't have known what had been said. Sixteen years ago, Richard, his father, had drilled the lessons of war into him. He knew what was coming, only that he dared not let his heart believe it. Quietly, he left his radio behind and hoisted Ferry into his arms.

Ferry didn't complain – he must have felt the change up above because he clamoured to hide beneath Arid's shirt just as the storm reached them.

Arid hobbled as quickly as he could to catch up with Jamie. She stood still as stone, staring at a rainbow of glimmering red scales. Picturing the rare, deadly crimson-scaled Gyarados of legend, he retreated behind a bush. He felt rather silly, considering a mighty Gyarados as being walled by a few thorns and leaves.

The white and yellow barbels drooping from the vacant-eyed Magikarp as they shot down the waterfall created the distinct illusion of an Ariados weaving a very long web. It was part fascinating, part terrifying to consider a trap such as that preventing him from warning the village of what was coming.

"Run," he tried hoarsely.

Jamie turned to him with a hungry look in her eyes. "Call this a birthday gift? Knew I had it good with the fella upstairs – what're you doing?"

"Running – run, now. Run," he said rapidly. "Cipher… Cipher…"

Her rosy cheeks went very white, and her eyes widened at something over his shoulder so much so they resembled those of the Magikarp overhead. She tried to say something, and he tried to listen; however, a very loud whistle interrupted their conversation. He turned around at the same time as Jamie's panicked hands pushed him aside.

Launched miles away near one of the peaks of Eclo Canyon, a boulder the size of the old tree in the village passed his nose by a millimetre. Jamie wasn't so lucky. The world went as grey as the reflection in her eyes.

The force of the boulder had flattened the entire boardwalk, forcing many surprised fishermen over the edge. It had smothered Jamie into a slushy mass of blood and bone. Her knees poked out of her flattened legs at horrifying angles. Wavy hair that had once belonged to her lay torn in a bundle far from her head, and her ribs had been crushed so tightly together Arid mistakenly thought she'd embraced her chest in her final moments. Despite being fully aware in his heart and mind that there was nothing he could do, he still couldn't help but tear apart the already weakening rock in a desperate search for her head.

He saw Ducklett first. Its once dark blue feathery underside was now a smeared brown and red, ripped in four different directions. Ducklett's heart hung against one of the rocks as a magnet would a fridge. Lotad had lost its lily pad along with half of its head. Jamie… Arid swallowed thickly, his hands shaking so hard he couldn't even cup her cheek or what was left of it. He wanted to resuscitate Jamie more than he wanted to breathe.

Aligning the heel of his right hand with the centre of her bloodied chest, Arid pressed down timidly. Blood sprayed out the side of her neck, painting his shirt red. Her eyes were bulging out of her skull. He tried to cradle her in his arms, but when he saw that her spine looked like an Ekans, he shakily put her back down.

"Fuck – Jamie, I don't know… Fuck…" She was dead. "I'm so, so sorry. I – I have to go. I won't ever forget you. Save me a seat in p-paradise, my friend."

For a second, he thought he saw her lips quirk upwards. But the moment passed as soon as it came. A cold wind rushed beside his head; up and up, it went through the pale, raging storm.

He managed to move his head to the side in time so he wouldn't vomit anywhere close to her body. Ferry was busy poking his stomach questioningly, which was the only thing that made him move. Another boulder – smaller and less refined than the first – crumbled in the air before it smashed into the waterfall. Arid felt momentarily sick, wading through the reddened waters. Floating arms brushed past his knees before he made it to the mossy bank on the other side.

It was impossibly slimy; he fell twice before managing to pull himself up.

Screams surrounded him in every direction. The lower platforms all the way to the northern peak of Agate Village were in complete chaos.

Arid hobbled over to one of the old roots and tried to fit himself inside. Hundreds of Pokémon – most belonging to Eagun – were huddled so close together it was a miracle they hadn't asphyxiated yet.

Ferry dug his claws into Arid's skin.

"You're safer in – OW – all right, all right…"

Deciding it best to back off before any indiscriminate attacks blew off his head, he lurched up the paths that hadn't been completely destroyed. Unfortunately, some people with some semblance of sanity thought along the same line as himself.

"Move out the fucking way!" someone yelled, elbowing his shoulder. "Fucking move or –!"

Perhaps because it was purely in the heat of the moment, Arid flung a fist out without a care in the world. It connected with someone's ear. He didn't look back; he didn't want to know if he'd hit the wrong person or not.

Eagun was waving to anyone who ran past his home. Everyone was too scared to see him, or maybe they did and wished to pretend that they could find a way out without help. Arid was in no such position; the memory of Jamie's soul passing him by had left him with a terrible chill, one he didn't wish to feel again.

"Arid! Over here – yes, come now." He opened the door. "Hurry!"

The inside of Eagun's home wasn't something to marvel at. Pikachu stands and Raichu play toys dotted the hallways like miniature traps. The old man knew, on some level beyond Arid's comprehension, where to and where not to step. Loud explosions outside shattered all of the windows in Eagun's home; if it hadn't been for the tree, they'd both be dead.

A case made of ebony wood lay open in his living room. Inside, a large Pokeball wobbled in circles. However, it was the northern window – the last not to be damaged – that attracted Arid's attention more than anything. His home, where he had left his sleeping parents, wasn't on fire. It wasn't even there, bar the remnants of the bamboo work surface, too stubborn to be taken out by any fire.

"M-My… No…" Arid burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, son," said Eagun sadly, his greying hair now like a blanket of snow down his beige cloak. "It's… I know."

Ferry petted his chest.

"They're dead. Fucking hell. What do I do? I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I don't have a way out. I don't even want to –"

His hair whipped over his eyes. It took Arid a second to realise Eagun had slapped him.

"Better?"

"Yes. No. I'm fucking terrified," he chuckled nervously. "I heard the announcement on the radio. Cipher's given the order to attack our village and everyone in it. I… have some other news."

Beluh entered the room. He'd hoped to avoid her for this.

She had lost one of her fingers, and her hair was dishevelled. Arid knew the moment she saw him, all of her pain vanished for a second. The flowery scent of burning herbs filled the room, along with the dreadfully painful silence that went uninterrupted until she ran over to him. She shook his arms so powerfully he thought they'd pop right out of their sockets.

"ONBS –"

"They announced the death of Michael, Wes, and – and Rui," said Arid quickly. "She died in Phenac City –"

Beluh stared at her hands before letting out a wail that broke his heart. She threw aside the coffee table, reaching for the nearest chair before Eagun wrapped his arms around her. Arid retreated into the next room, which was really just another part of the living room, and sat against a wall. Ferry's ears poked out the top of his shirt, though they vanished when a large explosion shook the house. Arid couldn't have felt more ashamed of himself if he tried. The screams in the next room began to fade into dry sobs.

Eagun emerged, closing the door behind him swiftly. "You did the right thing. Telling us now was better than letting us hold onto false hope. I don't want you to have a moment of doubt when I tell you what comes next."

Eagun breathed heavily before grabbing Arids hand. He gently pressed his lips against the knuckle of Arid's ring finger and slid a Pokeball into his sweaty palm. There was no need to say anything now, not that Arid would have heard over the booms of thunder. Eagun guided him to the rear of the house and into a garden. Ideas of mounting Beluh's Lapras and shooting down whatever Pokemon felt stupid enough to take him on filled his mind. It was hard for him – plastered against the rocking home's cracked fences – to see any enjoyment in whatever was coming next.

A rumble from Mt. Battle silenced the panicked Pokemon. Near its peak, washing down its rugged slopes like a pyroclastic flow, hundreds of Gliscor approached at terrifying speeds. Shielding his eyes with a hand, Arid looked beyond the Gliscor and Mandibuzz to the red clouds perpetually circling Mt. Battle's upper levels.

Large Pokemon, too vicious, too unbalanced for the lower levels, resided there. They rarely showed themselves. But at the moment, Arid could feel a hungry gaze wash over the village. It started right at him; even though he couldn't see it at all, he just knew that it had its attention honed in on him.

A sudden flash of light to his side made him flinch back. He relaxed when he saw Eagun's pleasant smile... and then gasped, feeling the primal urge to run away.

Stood twice his height was a Pokemon that stared down, quite hungrily, at the desert marigolds dotted about the nearby plant pots. It was a Pokemon, the likes of which Arid could hardly comprehend. The old man's eyes flitted up to the approaching swarm and then to his large friend, who looked at the approaching fight with hardly contained desire.

The Pokemon was insect-like and was covered in green scales. It had a pair of large, rhombus-shaped wings with red trim, toeless hind legs, and skinny arms with three-clawed hands. Then came its tail; several dark green striped scales worked their way down to three small rhombus-shapes akin to the Pokemon's wings. Its head was small compared to the rest of its body. Large red protective lenses guarded its small eyes from the rain, although they looked better suited to handle harsh sandstorms. Two large green antennae twitched in different directions, performing a strange hypnotic dance.

"Force our enemies to see reason, my friend," said Eagun calmly.

The Pokemon bowed its head – cheekily ate one of the desert marigolds – and somehow lifted itself into the air without flapping its wings. A lilac aura surrounded it, warming the area around the garden before something beneath the village changed. It was almost as if all of the stone had violently shifted in the direction of the approaching force. A heavy bronze light overwhelmed the lilac, bursting out with so much energy Eagun had to tell Arid to hold his ears before the ground exploded. The head of an Onix, which had been lurking somewhere underground, flew through the air and smashed into an Excadrill, crushing its spine with a loud crack.

Grassy meadows were torn asunder in less than a second. The storm above seemed like a melodic tune in comparison. Trees and maiden grass flew sky-high as the earth continued to tear itself apart. Of the tremendous number of vampiric predators which had made it to the foothills bordering the village, seventeen had been caught in the explosion. That wasn't the end of it, though, because a tidal wave of fine, gritty sand swallowed the survivors in seconds.

Barbed tails thrashed in a desperate effort to escape the growing waves of orange. But the harder they fought, the quicker they seemed to be swamped by sand and rock. A few of the Gliscor managed to tear their way through the initial assault, but that was all they could do before Eagun's Pokemon flapped its wings and sent them flying back into the towering columns of earth and wind.

The backdoor crept open.

A very small man with a noticeable hunch pushed the door wide open. Immediately, he guarded his eyes from the ferocious storm and shuffled next to Arid. He gave him a deep bow before turning to Eagun. He was a lean and wiry man with thinning grey hair, combed back neatly to accommodate a once handsome face, now pallid and gaunt. With his deep-set, dark brown eyes and tanned skin, he looked like he'd seen all that Orre had to offer – even the genocide didn't seem to bother him.

"Beluh has seen herself out," he coughed harshly.

"She's strong-willed. Don't beat yourself up. She'll always fight for the right reasons, and she loves this place more than she does me. Did Raichu accompany her? Perhaps she took leave with but her Lapras and Braviary?"

"Only the fish, sir," said the man.

"Phil, it's time. Seal the entrance to Relic Forest's underground. We cannot let Cipher discover the Relic Stone. We swore our oaths. Now it's time we pay out debt in full."

Arid turned back to the large Pokemon in the sky. Its wings were no longer flapping, but neither were its enemies. Only one – a Hippowdon, from what Arid could tell – dared roar a challenge. The entombment of all the Gliscor came to a sudden end, spitting out their broken pincers and wings. A faint golden-turquoise light thrummed in the bug's mouth before rocketing out as a spectral dragon. It lunged forth in a graceful arc before crashing against the maw of the Hippowdon in an explosion of azure flame.

Louder than the thunder, a deafening roar – not from the unconscious Hippowdon – shook the clouds. Swirling in circles, a very fast Pokemon stalked Eagun's friend from above the scarlet haze. Luckily, the bug caught on and turned to Eagun with a slight buzz. Then came the second roar. It was so powerful even the starving Mandibuzz flew away hurriedly. Arid's arms went numb. He could feel Ferry's heart racing at the same pace as his own.

The creature responsible for the second roar didn't let itself be known by kiting along the misty trail of blood-red clouds.

It was another predator in its own right. And it also knew better than to be arrogant.

"It's time you take your leave." Eagun patted Arid's shoulder. "I mentioned that I didn't want you to doubt what was coming next. Flygon is an old friend of mine. He will transport you into the wilds of Johto beyond our southern-eastern borders. It goes without saying, but hold on tight."

Another bolt of lightning forked in the sky like the wings of a large bird. The sky was so black Arid thought it was midnight. For a moment, he had the greatest desire to sprint out of the garden. He could reach his home and look through the rubble. Cruel as he knew it was, putting a giant red mark on his calendar felt like the right thing to do like it would grant him a piece of himself he'd left when he set off hours ago.

Eagun sensed his thoughts and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Overwhelmed by emotion, he wept without inhibition. At that moment, he wished for the world to burn so he could find peace at his parents' side once more. At least then, in the gardens of light, he wouldn't smell all that he had left of Jamie.

"Land, Flygon." He ushered Arid forward.

Flygon landed with a heavy thud, kicking up swirling dirt in the garden. The Pokémon sniffed him for a moment before settling down on the ground, its large body resting on the earth. Eagun chuckled dryly before urging him onto Flygon's back, brushing off any concerns as if he hadn't just pushed him against a dangerous Pokémon. There was a gentle warmth in the air again. It was so pleasant that Ferry finally decided to poke his head out to see whether or not they were finally safe.

Ferry's dry paws nudged his face. The Teddiursa's expression was tightly scrunched as if the idea of not having a furry face was a crime. Everything was going well until Ferry saw something in the clouds, which made him quickly retreat under Arid's shirt. He tried to spot the Pokemon along with Flygon. It was behaving strangely as if it were waiting for them to do something.

Climbing up the body of a Flygon – especially one with supple, almost grainy scales – was a difficult task. It was made more challenging when more Pokemon started pouring from the side of Mt. Battle like a burst blister. When Arid found a comfortable position that wouldn't crush Ferry, he brushed his hand against Flygon's wings. They were incredibly resistant.

"Remember, my old friend, I love you dearly. The route of escape takes you around Orre Colosseum to avoid the worst of the bombardment. Please be careful of the Vullaby and Misdreavus, and don't engage in combat unless there is no other alternative. Raichu will watch over you for as long as possible. Take flight now – do me proud."

----------------------------------------

Weightlessness was the most sickening experience of his life. It reminded him of falling through the old tree's roots all over again. The thrashing of rain against his face – like it knew he didn't belong there – served as the only distraction against Flygon's growing unease. Every so often, because they were flying along the border of Relic Forest, Flygon would quirk its head back to the village and croon. They would then hover for a few seconds before continuing along whichever path the dragon deemed safest.

Arid had noticed something peculiar about the forest. Every feral Pokemon that would enter it – probably with the hope of catching anyone seeking refuge there – found a strange solace in the shadows behind every tree. Some Lairon even laid down to sleep. Others weren't so brave and skirted around the Relic Forest's edge. A few Pokemon that passed by tried to attack Arid's ally, only for it to spew bright orange flames to dissuade the notion as soon as it appeared.

Thus far, everything was going well. The only downside was that Arid couldn't help but turn his head in the hope of spotting some kind of salvation. Being so high up should have afforded the luxury... but that was far from the truth. In fact, it only seemed to cement how terrible things were.

Flaming outposts with bodies strewn aside like forgotten Christmas lights made a terrible, acrid taste coat his tongue. Torched cities forced his stomach down into his bowels, and for once, he was grateful he'd starved during this year's drought. Gateon Port was the largest city after Phenac in the entire region. The look of it now was so horrifying that he could already feel how bad his nightmares were going to be, should he survive.

Several trained Noctowl and Ampharos worked as hard as they could to send warnings to passing ships in Morse code. The lighthouse beneath the workers melted like wax into the sea, but they remained undeterred. Those that could fight sent dazzling waves of light and thin blades of condensed air against the adamant Chandelure. A large ship near the collapsing lighthouse capsized against the docks in a pile of molten slag and flickering lights; there were too many bodies to count.

Hundreds of Pokemon turned into thousands the closer they got to the Colosseum. Near misses had become the new norm as more predators clocked onto a human riding on the back of a Flygon. There was something more daunting than the white plumage of an excitable Braviary, and it was still lurking above the clouds. Sparks of unnatural red lightning kept most of the birds away; as much as he wanted to think it, he knew it had nothing to do with his friend.

Flying in a gentle pattern, they passed over the worn, cracked stone tiles very quickly. He had never seen the remnants of the weathered columns and stone monuments this close before. Several Altaria and Staraptor guaranteed that his visit would only be brief before they launched an attack. Ferry picked up on the shrills and high-pitched whistles and poked Arid's chest worriedly.

Gigantic Rhydon – just short of Flygon's height – gathered the marble columns into a large, messy pile for the Crustle to launch. The boulders were far smaller than whatever had launched the initial attack against his village. Flygon hovered above them and watched as a boulder smashed into the base of the waterfall, which flooded into the forest and pulled a part of Agate with it. Furious, the dragon sent a spectrum of freezing cold light, infused with the bone-like wings of a drake, into the ferals with tremendous power.

The Pokemon lay in a broken state. It was a fair punishment that they were going to be deconstructed, just like the Colosseum, Arid thought quickly.

As he gazed up into the clouds, he noticed something in motion, something immense. Their pursuer had finally sprung into action, and it was none other than a Crimson Wing. These dragons were exceedingly scarce and exceptionally formidable. Its long tail, a blend of blue and red, swayed temptingly from side to side; its ash-grey jaw naturally set in a fierce grimace, and its thick-scaled underbelly had been specifically adapted for combat against other dragons, sending a shiver down his spine. Most of its skin was covered in blue scales, except for the red markings on its throat, inner legs, and the raised ridges above its intense eyes. Three wide fins jutted out on either side of its head, further enhancing its already sleek frame to terrifying proportions. And one couldn't overlook the feature that had given these creatures their name – two large red wings, shaped almost like axes, bore the weight of the Crimson Wing.

It began to descend, slowing enough to stay at the same speed as Flygon. Four large legs – each tipped with three long, jagged claws – flexed inside Flygon's peripheral vision. Arid then felt a sudden burst of air and looked up, which happened to coincide with the Crimson Wing's attack, and saw another Crimson Wing with its wings tightly tucked against its sides, diving headfirst at him.

It was a goliath compared to the first.

Flygon moved to intercept the first at the same time as the second smacked into its side.

Flygon was forced into an uncontrolled spin. Sheets of silver wrapped around Arid's face like a blindfold. It was silent for a second before a set of pointed white teeth latched onto one of his friend's wings. The force behind the bite was so powerful that the smaller Crimson Wing nearly tore it right off. A tear formed, sounding like a knife cutting through paper.

The hairs all over his body stood on end as Flygon cried out for freedom, the air becoming scorching hot. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to the other side as Ferry writhed beneath his shirt. Arid didn't want him to see what was about to happen. In an instant, a set of powerful claws, each the size of Flygon's head, snatched the dragon's leg in a tight grip, causing the sound of cracking bones to echo through the air.

Flygon let out a terrible screech that boomed loud enough to bloody the smaller foe's ears. The other was wise enough to flip Flygon upside down. Arid rolled down its sleek scales. It was nearly impossible for him to find a place to hold onto in the heavy rain. Finally, he found success near the tail.

Golden-red flame spread over Flygon's underbelly, quickly halted by a sudden excess of freezing air and sand. However, the battle seemed almost over. Arid couldn't yell anymore as his throat was hoarse. The scales on Flygon's abdomen peeled away, which revealed the soft pink skin beneath.

The rain poured into his eyes like the sky was crying for him.

Braving the danger of a closer fight, the elder Crimson Wing let go of Flygon's leg and swooped down. Following its friend's example, it began biting away at Flygon's throat with its serrated, yellow-stained teeth.

Long shards of compacted ice sliced the neck of the massive Crimson Wing and struck a terrified Unfezant with such force that its heart departed its body before landing on the rocky terrain below, which Arid assumed was Pyrite Path.

He blinked as he felt something cold press against his thigh. Shakily, he reached into his pocket and felt the smooth handle of his old pocket knife. In truth, he'd forgotten of its existence entirely.

He knew he had to do something. Carefully, he removed the weapon from his pocket and shakily hoisted himself closer to the feral dragon eating Flygon's wing. All instinct in his body screamed for him to flee. Another drop in altitude, this one more severe, told him otherwise.

Ferry's head popped out in front of Arid's, obscuring his view of the dragon. He tried to push him down to hide him from view, but his friend was frozen solid. Arid knew from a hungry growl that Teddiursa had been spotted. So, with the courage of a Beartic, he flipped out a short blade and jammed it firmly into the dragon's eye. A howl that could be heard in Orre's sandy Colosseum filled the sky. Then came a whistle of wind with a slight sizzle; golden, jagged lines of light cut through the murky clouds and struck the injured dragon with such force its wings of vivid red burned away into coal husks.

It spiralled far below, spewing its golden flame and twitching its wings for support. Its accomplice hadn't let go of Flygon's neck; his kind friend wasn't blinded by as much pain now, though, and began to thrum with power. A faint turquoise light grew until Arid could only see strange shapes dancing in his eyes.

Flygon had become a ball of pure energy. Orange light exploded out of its mouth and into the sky.

Skin peeled away from where the Crimson Wing's fiery blood made contact. His pocketknife curled and warped down Flygon's scales, dripping into the storm with increasing viscosity. Ferry's panicked paws helped him toss the fiery object through the clouds before it melted to his skin.

Streaks of yellow and white trailed the falling dragon. Unfortunately, several Pokemon were caught unaware and were torn to shreds in seconds. Many gave it a wide berth as it fell and fell... until roughly landing with its throat impaled on a stone spike.

A violent rumble from up above made the world go still. Meteorites began to fall through the pitch-black clouds surrounded by a violet aura. Each one was large enough to flatten an adolescent Copperajah. It was the most beautiful, terrifying thing he had ever seen. The Crimson Wing stood no chance of surviving. And once the whistle of repentance swished past his ear – much as the boulder that had killed Jamie – he smiled weakly as the beast's long tapering tail and wide wings were crushed beneath the weight of a heavenly mass.

Arid's joy vanished when he saw Flygon.

It could barely fly, and they hadn't made it even three-quarters of the way through the journey. The tremendous meteors had removed their foe's lives, but it had come at the cost of damaging his friend's throat even more. Several sharp teeth slid down Flygon's throat along with a scale half as long as his leg, which thudded against his legs.

An awful pain on the right side of his face gave him pause. It felt, to him, like the pains on his hands had crawled their way up his body without his knowing.

The smell knocked him back sick. The only sound in the world was that of his ragged breaths and terrible cries. He didn't feel the urge to ask Ferry how bad the damage was; he still didn't know whether or not they were going to escape the massacre. He had to bite his tongue when Ferry unintentionally began clawing at his chest.

At long last, Flygon found itself gliding along the grains of a nasty sandstorm. Several Hippowdon, Gigalith, and Krookodile lurked far below. The latter, surprisingly, didn't give chase after the scent of blood in the air. Arid gently rubbed the dragon's side as they steadily lost altitude near the Outskirt Stand.

The old place was in disrepair, as usual.

"I love you, Ferry," he cried. "But close your eyes now. Let's go see Jamie again –"