Suddenly appearing within her cavernous home, Astra took a moment to reorient herself to the dim lighting. Their return was heralded with much the same reception as when they had left: nothing at all.

“Ah! We’re back!” Seeing the paint on the walls, the mural on the ceiling and the scattered jars full of fruit filled her with relief. She was home, and everything would be okay.

“Hmfh. I didn’t even get to do anything,” the guard muttered—to which her grandpa replied by bonking him on the head.

“Be lucky you didn’t! That this went as well as it did can only be a miracle. We’ll need many more before the final task is done.” The guard yelped and started a complaint, but was overridden. “Now, go gather everyone. We’ll announce the plan among friends and food.”

Astra tilted her head. “Everyone?”

The elderly Kirlia smiled. “Think of it as a farewell party.”

“A party? Now we’re talking!” the guard exclaimed, a new fire in his eyes. “I’ll get right on it!” he called, already halfway outside.

Watching his departure, Astra took off her hat and fiddled with it. “Do you think they’ll go with it?”

“Can’t very well back out now,” he remarked. “We’ve already gone partway.” Wandering over to his chair, he settled down with a weary sigh. “I haven’t walked that far in a long time—makes my old bones sore. Would you kindly fetch me a drink?”

Astra grabbed a cup and filled it from one of the water barrels near the entrance, which he accepted gratefully. “Thank you. Now, I think that it will be quite a bit before the event gets going. Why don’t you get to know your new friend better?”

Astra hesitated. “What are you going to do?”

A soft smile graced his features. “I am tired, so I think I will stay here for a bit and recover. Shoo, off with you. Leave an old Kirlia like me to his rest.” He motioned her away.

Giving one last goodbye, Astra returned to her room. The candle was lit with a thought and a spark-rock, casting the small room in a dim light, sparkles emerging when it flickered across the shining stones. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she tossed the pokeball into the air—and with the increasingly familiar discharge, Treecko was released.

Blinking, he examined the room before turning to Astra. “...Ko?” he said, visibly confused. Skittering toward his master, Treecko examined her unmasked face.

“...Um,” she said, unsure. What was…? Oh! He never saw me with her face uncovered, she reasoned. “It’s just me again. My name is Astra, it’s nice to meet you!” Grinning, she reached out, stroking Treecko’s back.

Treecko accepted this with closed eyes and a nudge against her hand. Leaping up, he leisurely relaxed on her lap. Astra giggled at the display. His skin felt smooth and slightly cool to her touch, though there seemed to be a few bumps on the midpoint of his back. His tail twitched as she examined that as well. Both ‘branches’ were very thick and surprisingly tough, not giving any ground to the pressure she applied. He also appeared to have tiny needle and hook-like features on his hands and feet. Was this what allowed him to climb up her robe? Fascinating.

“Tree,” He muttered, staring up at her in irritation. A hot flush graced her cheeks at the unthinking extent of her sudden investigation.

“Ah!” she yelped, standing suddenly. Treecko took the sudden launch with grace, landing upright. “I’m sorry! I was just curious, please forgive me!” she fretted, placing her hands together.

Treecko continued to stare at her, before shrugging and looking elsewhere. Spotting the small Surskit doll, he went stiff as a board before crouching low. “Tree…” he muttered, before scurrying up the walls of the room. Astra watched with gleeful amusement as Treecko seemed to stalk the thing, crawling across the ceiling until it was directly above it.

Waiting a beat, Treecko lunged down with a fearsome cry, spinning at the last second and striking the doll with his tail and slapping it across the room. Following up, he dashed forwards and grabbed it fully with all limbs, flailing his prey against the hard rock in rapid spinning slams. Treecko released his catch after a few moments, apparently having been satisfied with the savage beatdown.

“Treecko!” he trilled, standing triumphant over the lifeless imitation. He turned towards his master; putting on smug, expectant airs as if to say ‘Did you see that?’

Astra clapped gleefully. “Amazing! You really showed that doll, didn’t you?” He really had been fast, just like the professor said. She hadn’t even been able to keep up with his strikes. Or maybe it was the dim lighting? Still, her glee was well received. Maybe her task wouldn’t be that hard after all.

Tapping her foot, she glanced around the room and laid eyes on the faded yellow ball. Grinning, she levitated the ball and made it hover over her hand. Also grabbing one of her chalky rocks, she made two arced lines on opposite sides of the room. Treecko watched this with wary curiosity, having discarded an investigation into his prey after the discovery that it was made of grass.

Still grinning, she moved behind one of the lines. “Let’s see how well you do at rebound.” With that, she hurled the ball at Treecko. Reading her intentions, Treecko swirled around and smacked the ball right back with great force. “Pretty good!” she remarked, catching the ball in a shimmering square net of psychic force. “I always dropped it because I couldn’t keep my field coherent, but I could always bounce it harder than everyone else could. It’ll be great practice for both of us. Let’s have a good match, yeah?”

Treecko’s eyes narrowed as he readied himself for the next assault. Astra grinned and flared her psychic aura. With a burst of energy, the ball was launched and the game was on.

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

It was a few hours later when her grandfather poked his head into the room to discover both of them completely exhausted; an empty jar of berries was the only sign they had stopped for a break at all. Treecko was lying flat on Astra’s chest, out cold. Astra herself was fending off the headache and mental fatigue that signified psychic overuse; mostly by lying down, holding her head, and groaning.

“Having fun?” he asked, smiling at the vaguely positive whine that resulted. “I am glad to hear it, though I think you may have overworked yourself a little.” Ducking out of the room for a moment, he brought back a very small container from the main area. “Here, have some Leppa essence. It should help with your headache.”

Astra accepted the offering with gratitude, twisting out the plug and downing a portion of the liquid within. It left a lingering spicy aftertaste, but the warmth spreading through her body and swallowing the ache between her eyes was well worth it. Sighing in relief, she sat back up and gave her grandfather a grateful smile. “I really needed that, thank you!”

He hummed in response. “It was no trouble at all. I am glad you are getting along well with Treecko. You’ll have to face many challenges together soon enough.” A loud, rhythmic thumping began sounding from outside. “Speaking of which, the event has started. Everybody's come together, and we will make the announcement later. But first, I believe there are several Magikarp waiting for you.”

Astra glanced at Treecko. The little lizard was still out of it, and returned to his ball with nary a peep. Stretching, the trainer gave a loud whoop and raced outside.

True to his word, most if not all of the villagers had congregated in the center of the settlement. The sun hung on the edge of the sky, dim reds and oranges giving way to serene purples glowing through the branches. Alongside the main bonfire, several minor fires were scattered about, infusing the area with heat and light.

A few arenas were set up here and there between the fires as well, impromptu games played within. She paused for a moment to witness two Kirlia face off in a game of rebound similar to the one she had just played with Treecko, except it had at least six balls—all of them were rapidly bouncing in erratic patterns between the two combatants and she was still tired from her own bout, so she passed on examining it further.

Grabbing a thoroughly roasted fish, Astra spotted a lively display some distance off. A Kirlia stood next to a roaring blaze pit, manipulating burning fuel, several special rocks, and a few psychic barriers to produce fantastic displays of light. A fire theater was a rare sight indeed, and the performer looked to be debuting an act she hadn’t seen yet!

She settled in amongst the other Ralts, who were giving a wide berth to the fiery artist. She seemed to be in the middle of the story; crude images borne of flame, stone, and spark told of a panic infusing the village. Several of the illusory figures seemed to argue amongst themselves, and their actions increased in ferocity quickly. Infighting? But then two figures arose, taller than the others, and held their hands out for calm.

The Kirlia shifted in the shadows and tossed something into the scene. One of the two images reached into the flame below in time with her movements and pulled out a shocking oddity: a stone covered in purple flames. Astra voiced her awe alongside the Ralts watching with her, but couldn’t help but feel a sense of uneasy familiarity.

The smaller figures seemed to become excited at the sight of the new item, giving praise unto the duo. The scene shifted slightly, making the duo larger. The left one was slightly shorter, and held the stone in her hand, while the right one held a spear—and both had the other’s hand clasped in their free one.

The flames dissolved and reformed, painting a new tapestry of forest and brush. Symbolizing trees with fire always struck Astra as a little silly, but she couldn’t deny that the Kirlia had a way with her art. The two tall figures entered the scene, and a moment was spared to depict the effort of journey. Then they were set upon by devilish caricatures of Poochyena; the hellish light and admittedly minimalistic fighting that broke out reminded Astra very much of her awful encounter that short time ago.

She shivered despite the warmth. She could almost hear the growling of the dogs as they rushed at the figures. The battle reached a fever pitch soon afterwards, and the two figures rose victorious amongst the pack. Then from the flame strode a monstrously large hound, sparks falling from its maw like spit and eyes raked with furious coals.

The male readied his spear, the female clutched the stone to her horn, and recognition finally snapped into place, followed shortly by a hollow, bitter resentment. The Magikarp in Astra’s mouth suddenly tasted of ash. Standing, she discarded what was left of the fish and walked away—she didn’t need to see the rest; she already knew how this one ended.

Astra sat on a stump near one of the fires at the edge of the celebration furthest from the performance, melancholy streaking her thoughts. Not a few moments in and she was already in a foul mood, even though this was her party, in a way. Why…? She stared at the fire, searching for answers that did not come in the flickering light. Glancing back at the crowds, her gaze was drawn to those Kirlia in pairs, many of them accompanied by a varying number of Ralts. One was perched atop their parent’s shoulders, laughing audibly and waving their arms around. She turned away, trying to ignore the ugly flash of envy.

The fire was warm. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine a pair of strong arms, wrapping themselves around her. A voice, soft and flowing like the wind, would be muttering nothing at all, and the crackle of a deeper one would answer in return.

A ping shattered the illusion, startlement jerking her halfway off the stump. The warm arms and soothing voices were replaced by sparking fire and empty air. Turning, she noticed that a Kirlia had taken a seat next to her. The old burn marks scattered around her coat revealed her as the performer from earlier. Was the theater over?

“Hey,” she started, leaning towards the pit. “I noticed you ran off near the end there. Came over to see how you were doing. Was it too scary, or…?” The question trailed off into silence.

Astra stared at her. Did she not…? “No,” she said, turning back to the fire. ”I wasn’t scared off.”

“Ah, that’s good, at least.” A small shift, and the fire suddenly shimmered; the smoke starting to spiral in serene swirls. “So, could I badger you for your thoughts? Spent a long time on that routine, ya know. Took me forever to figure out how to make purple fire. Why’d you leave?”

“Why did you have to make it about them?” she blurted out, digging her hands into the stump. “Why did you have to—why here? Why now? This was supposed to be a happy party! My party! And you just—just—“ With a frustrated, strangled sound, Astra flared her psychic power. The arrangement of wood inside the fire pit was leveled with a vicious crack, showering the air with sparks.

She stared at the dying fire in a moment of shock, before curling up on the stump. She hadn’t meant to lose her temper. She just...a sigh redirected her attention to her guest. With a minor purple glow, the shattered remains were neatly rearranged, the Kirlia birthing the fire anew.

“I’m sorry,” Astra mumbled, staring at a piece of dirt.

“It’s alright,” the artist replied, “I suppose it’s partially on me.” Astra peeked at her, and saw her looking right back, a strange expression on her face. “You’re her daughter, aren’t you? Their kid.”

Astra turned away. This was all the answer her guest needed, and she hummed. “Well. I can’t say I’m sorry for performing the routine,” she said, absentmindedly shaping the sparks into various patterns again. “They were heroes. I thought their story should be told.”

“What good is that?” Astra muttered. “I don’t want a story. I want them. I want that,” she motioned at the varied couples. “It’s not—it’s not fair.” She thought she should be crying, but there was nothing to remember; nothing to mourn with. Just a hollow space that would never be filled.

“I know it’s not fair, and I know what it’s like to want people you’ve lost back.” The Kirlia sniffed in disapproval. “But I wouldn’t diss stories so fast. Sure, you can’t meet them in person, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get to know them.”

“Eh?” Astra turned to face her fully. “What do you mean by that?”

The artist scratched her cheek. “Well, it’s not super complicated. Stories tell us what people did and how they acted, what words they said and how their actions and beliefs affected the world around them. By knowing a person's story, you also get to know the person, in a way.” She smirked. “For instance, I happen to have been acquaintances with your mother. Got a few things to say about that. Are you sure you don’t want them?” she teased.

“What!? You knew my mom?” Astra exclaimed, instantly hopping to her feet. She took a quick step over and bowed to the Kirlia. “I’m sorry for skipping the end, please tell me more!”

“Woah there, easy!” she said with a chuckle. “Such a sudden change in attitude. Has nobody ever talked about her or something?”

Astra wrung her hands in embarrassment. “Grandpa didn’t talk about her a lot, no. I don’t know anyone who knew her either. I never even really thought much about them until recently. It’s been…I dunno. A few things are happening, and your performance and then the party…it kinda threw it in my face.” She glanced towards the crowd, then turned back to the artist. “I mean, I’ve always had grandpa, but…it’s different.”

“Eh, I can understand that, I guess. I suppose I could tell you a few things then.” The Kirlia turned to gaze wistfully into the fire. “I guess…your mom was a lot of things. She was one of the only two Gardevoir we had for a long time. She was very pretty, talented with her psychic ability. Determined as well as motivated. Once she set a goal, she never gave up until she achieved it. She was also very energetic, outgoing, and the most extraordinarily smug bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet.”

Astra blanched.

The fire-shaper burst out laughing. “Oh fuck,” she wheezed. “The look on your face—” She pulled her arms around herself and almost collapsed onto the dirt, the sound of giggling only interrupted by the occasional gasp for air.

“What was that!?” Astra screeched. “You can’t say all these nice things then insult her!”

“Haha! Of course I can! Like it or not, nobody exists without flaws. All those things I said before could be negative as well! Too powerful for her own good, stubborn, and liked the sound of her own voice much more than I did.” The Kirlia waved off Astra's indignant retort before it formed.

“Ah, let me explain. She was something of a genius, you see; able to grasp and perform high level psychic techniques in a quarter of the time the rest of us did. But it was the worst type of genius; the one where she couldn’t really explain how she did it, nor comprehend why everyone else wasn’t as good as her.” The artist hopped off the stump and leaned back against it from the ground instead, gazing at the stars above. “I remember she used to get so frustrated with the rest of us because we couldn’t figure out how to teleport. She just kept doing demonstrations over and over again because she could not for the life of her put her method into words. She always looked at us with this damn pitying gaze, oh how irritating she was…”

She examined her hand, exotic energy wafting off it. “But I will give her some credit; even if she did think of the rest of us as incompetent, often vocally, she never stopped trying to help. Even if we probably would have been better off without the giant, loudmouth distraction that she was. It was really no surprise that she was able to pass the old hag’s trial.”

Initially fuming at the negative portrayal, Astra perked up at the faint praise and asked, “Old hag? What trial?”

“Ah, the Ancestor. She was before your time, so you wouldn’t know. She protected the village before she vanished, but she was a mean old fart so we called her a hag. As for the trial, see, in order to become a Gardevoir you have to experience a lot of things, stress most of all.” She smiled, thinking back to other days. “Our life back then was more…idyllic than right now; Poochyena attacks were an extreme rarity. There really wasn’t any way to naturally evolve beyond a Kirlia. Except, if you really wanted to, you could go see the Ancestor and she’d put you through the trial. If you stuck with it you were virtually guaranteed to become a Gardevoir.”

Guaranteed evolution!? That sounded amazing! “Was it hard? Why were my parents the only ones who did it?”

“Weren’t you listening? The fastest way to evolve is to undergo a lot of stress. The trial was—ugh.” The fire-shaper made a face. “I won’t go into it. She basically forced a lot of stress on you for a long time. Either you evolved or you called it off. I only lasted two days before I couldn’t take it anymore; I didn’t need that sort of power to be a smith. For me it wasn’t worth the hassle, but your mom thought it was; I have no idea why.” She shrugged. “One season later she came back to the village as a Gardevoir. The aftermath was rough; for a long time afterwards she had nightmares, couldn’t look anyone in the eye, hoarded food and generally acted like a paranoid recluse. Jumped at the slightest noise. She got back to normal eventually, though I think your dad helped a lot with that. Never saw the two of them apart for more than ten minutes in those days.”

“That sounds…harsh.” Astra felt a little uneasy at the aftereffects. For a brief moment, she imagined all sorts of nasty things that could have happened. Horrid illusions, no food, little sleep…she focused on something else. “Did you know my dad too?”

“Hm? No, I don’t know anything about your dad, but I would bet an entire spring’s worth of Magikarp that he became a Gardevoir just having to deal with your mom. Haha!” She glanced over and grimaced at Astra’s expression. “Ah, I shouldn’t joke about that, sorry. He went through the trial at some point too. There was a big ceremony at both of their evolutions. They really cared about each other. And about you, I suppose.”

“Huh?” Astra exclaimed, startled. “They talked about me?”

“Oh, she could not go half a day without spouting off about you. She carried your egg around everywhere she went and at the slightest provocation would start yammering and yammering for hours about it, even after the old hag vanished. It was ridiculous and annoying and kinda adorable.” She sighed. “And then the protections left by the Ancestor started to fade, the Poochyena started hounding anyone that wandered too far outside the gates, and, well, she had to go deal with it. She left your egg to your…grandfather, was it? Then, she went off to save the village. She succeeded. And then she died.”

“Ah...” Astra looked into the fire again. The blunt reminder that she was never going to meet them stung once more. But, as she imagined their voices and faces, maybe not as much as before. The voice she imagined in the wind turned peculiarly loud, and in the faint recesses of her mind, she could almost hear a melody.

She didn’t even realize she was humming until the Kirlia pointed it out, “That song...” she started, examining Astra oddly. “Where did you hear that?”

“Eh?” Astra blushed. “I didn’t even know I was—sorry. I don’t know. It just…came to mind.”

“Hm.” The Kirlia eyed her. “It’s funny. When she was carrying your egg around, she used to hum those same few notes.”

Astra’s breath caught in her throat and her sight was suddenly starting to get blurry, but all she could feel was a lingering warmth that had nothing to do with the fire.

“Th—thank you,” Astra managed, rubbing her eyes. “For telling me about her.”

The storyteller grinned. ”It’s no problem. If you ever need anything, be sure to ask, okay?”

“Mmm.” They sat in silence for a while, before a thought struck. “Hey, if you were…going on a long hike, what would you take with you?”

The Kirlia raised an eyebrow. “That’s a weird question. We can’t exactly leave the forest, ya know. What, are you going somewhere?”

“I’m just asking!” Astra said, more defensively than she would have liked.

“Right.” She thought about it. “Probably a good, strong knife. Useful for scaling fish, cutting plants, and it could mess up a Poochyena in a pinch. All sorts of things.”

Astra pondered this. “You said you were a smith?”

“Hm? What, do you think all these burn marks are from storytime? Yeah, I’m the only one in this place who knows how to shape metal, same as my dad, and his dad, and his mom, and so on. Not that there’s much metal here, but I can turn the odd bit of salvage into useful things. Why?”

“Could you make me a knife?” she asked.

“Aaah, why would you need a knife? Are you actually leaving? That’s dumb.” The Kirlia kept one eye on her, then closed them and shrugged. “Eh, if you’re doing something reckless, that’s your problem I guess. I can’t stop you. But I suppose I’d feel bad if I didn’t do anything. So sure, but I’ve already used all my metal. Unless you have some scrap laying around, I can’t do anything.”

“What about—” Astra hesitated, reconsidering her request, before soldiering on. “What about an old spearhead?”

The smith grunted. “That’ll do. You have it with you? I could probably just make it right now if you want to make a show of it.”

“Really? That sounds cool!” Astra grinned, hopping off the stump. “I’ll go get it,” she said, sprinting back to the cave.

Her grandfather had disappeared from the main cavern. Astra went into her room and picked up the old spearhead laying on the table. It was the same as it ever was: a few patches of rust, a nick here and a scratch there.

“It was your father’s,” her grandpa had said. “This was the head of the spear he used in his last fight.”

“Was he a guard?” she had asked.

“He was the best guard I ever knew. He was a Gardevoir, and the very name bears resemblance to the word ‘guardian,’ does it not? He was able to dismantle an entire pack of Poochyena single-handedly. He never lost his focus, nor his composure. He also made the worst jokes, and enjoyed seeing others laugh. He was particularly fond of wordplay; I remember many times where he made a seemingly innocuous comment and then got swatted about the head by your mother.”

Then he had smiled, his expression old and brittle. “I miss him terribly, and I know that he would want you to have this. A memento and promise. He fought to protect you, to protect us all, and he will watch over you from the stars above.”

She remembered the heavy feeling as her grandfather dropped it into her hand, and closed his fingers around hers. “Keep it safe, and it will do the same for you in return.”

She left the cave, holding the old weapon close to her chest. The Kirlia was still sitting where she had been, staring into the fire.

“I have it,” she said, holding the item out.

“Mm? Ah, alright then. Let me have a look.” Levitating the spearhead out of Astra’s hand, the fire-shaper examined the rusted tool. “Yeah, it’s a bit rusty, but it should be enough for a nice knife.”

She rose from the stump and stretched. “Alright then, gotta keep the soot out…uneven temperatures…ah, a challenge,” she muttered with a grin, flexing her hands. “Watch closely, kid. I don’t get to do this often.” She hovered the rusted mass over the fire pit and made a face as it was lowered down, slowly being immersed in the flames. Astra watched the spearhead with great anticipation, but became confused when nothing happened.

“Um—” Astra started, but paused as she suddenly became aware of a high-pitched noise, as if a bird’s screech was paused in time. WIth wide eyes, she saw the spearhead start to vibrate intensely, cutting through the air and making a steadily rising whine. The fire from the pit was being redirected, swirling around the item in a vicious torrent. Astra vaguely noted everyone nearby covering their ears, observing the spectacle. The Kirlia was beginning to sweat, letting out a constant stream of heavy breathing.

The spearhead suddenly became a shade of dull red, which quickly morphed into a sharp, bright crimson. Orange, yellow, white- and then it collapsed in on itself, forming a ball of unshaped molten steel. Astra uncovered her ears as the noise stopped, awestruck at the display.

The smith gasped for air. “That’s the hard bit,” she ground out. “Time to purify and shape it.” The ball stretched itself out into a flat sheet, then crumpled back together. It did this a couple more times, each contraction ejecting unknown dregs into the pit below. Was that the rust? After three repetitions, the metal was brought back together into a rough, thin brick shape.

Then, very slowly, the Kirlia began to shape it. A flat piece for the handle was carved out, followed by the blade itself. Small blobs of metal rolled to and fro as one side was compressed into an edge, lengthening the tool. The smith grunted as her work was completed, and carefully levitated it out of the searing pit. With a twist of her wrist, the metal rapidly reverse-shifted in color, from the molten white back to orange, red, and finally a shiny gray. A ball of shimmering haze hovered above the Kirlia’s hand; the excess heat she had pulled directly from the knife. She tossed it into the fire, which roared upward in a magnificent blaze.

The knife fell into the smith's hand fully-formed. She then collapsed to one knee, panting and clearly exhausted. “Well,” she said, looking at Astra once more. “I hope you enjoyed that. It’s really hard, ya know?”

Astra’s reply was drowned out by a sudden applause. Looking around, she became aware that a group of people had congregated around the scene; all of them quite amazed. Astra grinned and joined in, clapping her hands. “It was amazing!” she cheered.

The smith smirked. “You know it!” she crowed, staggering to her feet and taking a theatrical bow to the onlookers. “Okay, okay! Off with all of you! Show’s over!” she hollered, waving them off. With a few final cheers, the gathered crowd dispersed. The Kirlia sat back on the stump with a huff, examining the knife she had made.

“Ah, can I see?” Astra asked, suddenly right next to the drained smith.

“Sure—it is yours, after all.” Flipping it so the blade was in her palm, she extended the handle to its rightful owner.

“So cool!” Astra breathed, investigating her reforged memento. The knife’s shape was rather basic, but there appeared to be decorative silver swirls embedded into the steel, giving it a hypnotic appearance. “How did you make it look like that?” she asked, turning back to the artist. “The spear head was just gray!”

“Ah ah, that’s a secret.” The smith winked. “I’ll pass that down to my kids, when I get around to that. It’s just cosmetic though; the really neat bit is the edge. Can I have that back for a second? Thanks.” Plucking a blade of grass from the forest floor, she held the knife edge up. “Watch carefully!”

Astra gasped as the single piece of grass floated onto the edge and divided with nary a movement. “That’s amazing! I didn’t know things could get that sharp!”

“Haha, well. I’m glad you like it. It’ll last you for a long time, even more if you treat it right. Take care of it, you hear me?” She flipped the knife over again and handed it back. “It’d be more comfortable with a proper handle, but you can just wrap some grass around it for now.”

With that, she got to her feet and stretched her arms out, making a cracking noise as she twisted her spine. “Ahh, sweet relief. Anyway, I’m beat. I’m going to go see if they brought out the fermented stuff yet, maybe get hammered.” She winked, then turned and started walking. “When you turn into a Kirlia, come see me. We’ll share a drink!”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Astra stuck her tongue out. “Fermented drinks are nasty!”

“Haha, we’ll see! Later kid!”

Sending her own farewell, Astra watched the Kirlia gradually vanish in the throng. She lingered at the fire for a small time, pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them on her knife, watching them cut themselves on their own weight. She admired it a moment more before turning her attention skyward. The moon was large and full, casting its light where the fire did not reach. “I wonder what you would say if you saw this. Would you like it? I think you might have,” she mused to empty air.

“I believe he would,” a voice said, turning to laughter at Astra’s startled shriek. She twisted around, finding her grandfather holding a hand over his mouth to poorly hide his gentle grin.

“What was that for!?” she said, glaring.

“Ah, can an old bag like me not have fun?” He gave a mock gasp. “How presumptuous of me. I should go and sit with all the elders and talk about berries through the night then.”

Astra pouted. “You’re supposed to warn people before you sneak up on them!”

“So you are!” he chirped, smiling at her exasperated groan. “I see you’ve picked up a new tool…or perhaps, an old one made anew?”

“Oh, ah…”

“It’s quite alright. It used to be his old spearhead, yes?”

“Y-yeah…I didn’t know where else to get the metal and—”

He interrupted by patting on her head, still gently smiling. “You do not have to justify yourself to me. He wasn’t one for too much sentimentality, at least where objects were concerned; he would approve of this. May I?” At Astra’s hesitant nod, he picked up the tool for a moment, examined it, and returned it a second later. “She does good work, much like her predecessor. The artistry is new, though.”

“Yeah.” Astra nodded. “She knew a lot about my mom too. Why have I never met her before?”

Her grandpa shrugged. “I am not acquainted with her; it could simply be that the places you two frequent do not overlap. In any case, have you enjoyed the party? The time has almost come.”

Astra glanced back at the reshaped bonfire for a moment. “I learned a lot, but I didn’t really get to do anything. I had some carp and saw half of her theater. The forging was super cool though!”

“Really? Not even the shadow dance? You love the shadow dance!” At her negative, he grumbled. “Perhaps afterward. We should prepare for the announcement. I’ve forewarned the other elders in advance to head off conflict.” With a grin and a flash of light, he summoned a stiff plant fiber backpack to his hand. “I’ve also acquired a bag for you—just in time as well, you seem to be acquiring a great many things as of late.”

“It’s almost like I’m going somewhere,” she replied, giving a cheeky grin at her grandfather’s chortle.

“That you are! Now, I want you to go retrieve Treecko, then meet me by the stage next to the grand bonfire. We’ll begin afterwards.”

Astra took the bag, nodding. “I’ll be right back!” she said, storing her knife in a convenient loop.

Hurrying back home, she retrieved both Treecko’s pokeball and the empty one, along with the mysterious pokedex. Stuffing both into her new bag, she dashed back outside as a general psychic ping resonated through the camp. Weaving through the gathering crowds, she made it to the stage with time to spare and spotted her grandfather communicating with another elderly Kirlia as she approached.

They were talking privately, so she couldn’t overhear them. “I’m here!” she announced, alerting them to her presence. Her grandfather broke off the conversation with his companion with a silent glare, turning to her with a grin.

“Good, good, we can begin—” he said, but was cut off by the other Kirlia. She was as old as her grandfather, though perhaps not quite as much, and her face seemed set into a perpetual scowl. She had the same drooping coat and wrinkled face all elders did, though her hair had not yet lost its emerald hue.

“Hmph!” she snorted, looking down on the Ralts. “So you are the one? Ridiculous. Even if I were to condone this action, we should send a Kirlia. Not some brat, no matter who her parents are. She is a child; have you no shame in sending her into such danger?” she questioned, turning back to her grandfather without letting Astra get a word in.

Her grandfather sighed in exasperation. “I keep telling you, Astra has already proven herself by traversing a city and helping defeat a pack of Poochyena. She is the one who fooled the Professor!”

“And there you go again with this ‘Astra’ business! Since when did we need human names? It’s ridiculous; are mental patterns not good enough?”

“Enough!” he snarled. “We have been arguing in circles for the entire night! I will hear no more of your objections. You were outvoted, so the plan is going through.”

“Still, the stone!? I must still protest that! Even if—”

“The argument is over!” he said, swiping his hand between them. “I must speak to my granddaughter. Let us be.”

“Tch.” The crone glared at her grandfather, then turned to Astra again. “Our village is relying on you, so don’t do anything foolish.” She stared at her for a moment, then shook her head and muttered as she walked away. “This asinine plan will get us all captured or worse, I swear.”

Astra had been speechless for the entire exchange. It was the first time someone had openly derided her in such a crass manner. “What is her deal!?” she exploded. “I did all that stuff and she just goes and treats it like nothing?”

“I don’t much care for her either,” her grandfather admitted. “Even when our decisions align, she makes it difficult to agree. Not to mention her…distasteful opinions.” A frown etched his face as he continued. ”In any case, let us begin. Have you gotten all of your things?”

Astra glared at the retreating Kirlia for a few moments more before she let out a sigh. “Yeah. The pokeballs, the pokedex, my knife, it’s all here. What should I do?”

“You will be demonstrating your friend on my mark, nothing more. I myself will be explaining the plan and what comes next.” He glanced at the full crowd. “No more time. We have to go.”

Following dutifully, Astra climbed the steps to the podium after her grandfather. Upon reaching the plateau, she reflexively shied away from the sheer number of eyes suddenly upon her. She hadn’t really comprehended the scope of how many people existed in her community, having always been in the crowd during the few times an assembly was called, but there were clearly several hundred in the crowd. Maybe even a thousand? Two thousand?

“Silence!” her grandfather boomed, quieting the general murmurs of the gathering. “We have gathered here today for a very unusual announcement. But first, a bit of recollection is in order. Now, as you know, our dear Ancestor vanished from our community many seasons ago.” With that announcement, a general unease set into the gathered Pokemon, whispers coming from every direction. Attention now mostly off her, Astra felt rather more comfortable in front of the crowd. Maybe she could get used to this.

“This,” he continued, “has led to the slow deterioration of the protections she left behind. The last misdirecting barrier fell long ago, and with them the deflection of the wild Poochyena which lie outside our territory. Which led to—" His breath caught for a moment, but he pressed on, “Which led to my son and his wife sacrificing themselves to destroy the Alpha Mightyena before it could lay waste to our people. As of now, we have no Gardevoirs, minimal defenses, and failing obstructions to the humans outside.” The whispers in the crowd turned fearful. Astra worriedly noted the undercurrent of despair emanating through the crowd.

He held up a hand to quell the noise. “Yesterday afternoon,” he continued, gazing at the crowd intently, “My granddaughter traveled into human territory, and infiltrated deep into the city to the north.” Astra gulped as the entire congregation was suddenly concentrated on her. It wasn’t quite as bad as the first time, but after a moment she averted her eyes from the staring masses and focused on her grandfather.

“She went among them undetected, and learned that they had begun to expand their holdings even beyond the massive areas they already held, including traveling to the very moon itself! Their expansion into the forest is inevitable and occurring at this very moment. It is clear to us that discovery is no longer a matter of ‘if,’ but ‘when.’”

“What!?” “ The moon? No way.” “Here?” “How will we stop them?” “Those damn bastards!” “Where will we go?” “I’m not living my life in a damn ball!” “This is a trick, right? Some cruel prank?” “No no no no…” The crowd erupted into panicked jitters, accusations and general mayhem.

“Quiet!” Gramps ordered. “I said QUIET!” He blasted out a psychic siren, forcing everyone to shield their minds from the onslaught for a moment. Astra noted that only the Kirlia had been affected; the Ralts were looking confused, prodding at their parents as they recovered.

“I am sure many of you are worried about these declarations,” he said as order was restored. “And I can assure you that we have found a solution to weather the oncoming storm. Shortly after I received this news, my granddaughter suggested to me an audacious plan. One that could solve our problem for good!

“With no time to waste, we set out to enact stage one of this plan immediately. Traveling far to the east, we infiltrated the very origins of the trainers, and deceived them soundly! And thus, for the first time in history, we are not merely Pokemon! We are equals!”

Astra jumped as she received a psychic nudge. Looking over, she saw her grandpa nodding at her. Gulping, she stepped forward and grabbed her pokeball.

“I present to you my granddaughter, Astra the Trainer!” Her cue struck, Astra tossed the pokeball high into the air, where it opened with its buzzing energy. The lightning resolved into the form of her Treecko. Gasps and murmurs shot through the crowd as the little lizard blinked back at the crowd.

“She has a pokeball!” “What is that creature?” “It’s cute!” “Does she control it?” “What does this mean?”

“As you can see, we have stolen the humans’ ability for ourselves!” her grandfather continued as Treecko scampered back to his master, choosing this time to lay atop her head. There were a few bits of laughter in the crowd as she stumbled under the sudden, awkward weight. “Through cunning disguises and masterful deception, Astra infiltrated a Professor's lab and obtained this right.

“Our plan is this: come tomorrow morning my granddaughter will travel into the human world and obtain the title of Champion. This will allow her to extend great influence on all the humans of this land! With this control, she will prevent humanity from interfering with our lives! No longer will we have to hide! No longer must we live in fear of discovery!” He shouted again, raising his hands to the sky. “Let us celebrate, my dear friends! For soon, we shall be free!”

The crowd cheered in response, a deafening mass approval coursing straight into Astra. She stared, awed by this display of approval. With trembling limbs she struck her own fist in the air, pokeball glimmering in the firelight.

“They’ll never know what hit them!” she shouted, and the cacophony redoubled in response. She basked in the feeling, an entire crowd pouring their belief into her. For a moment, she almost felt like she was going to float away… Her grandfather knelt down and patted her shoulder, knocking her out of the reverie.

“Seems there was nothing to worry about, hm?” he said. Astra stared at him, then broke into a smile which he returned. Standing back up, he returned his attention to the crowd. “Settle down, settle down!” he called, waiting until the last of the praise fell away. “Today is going to be our last day for overt actions like this for a long while. Starting tomorrow, we must begin to prepare for inevitable discovery by the wider world. So, with hope in your hearts and life in your souls, enjoy the night!”

Giving one last cheer, the gathered people began to disperse back to their activities. A few Kirlia stayed behind, looking less enthused and clearly waiting to bombard Gramps with questions—but more notable to Astra was the rather large group of Ralts attempting to crowd the stage.

“You’re going to be a trainer?” “Can I see your Pokemon?” “How did you sneak through a city?” “Did you see a human? Tell me what they were like!” Each of them were shouting, trying to be heard over the others, and Astra chuckled nervously as she rubbed the back of her head.

Her grandfather smiled at the scene and gave her a small nudge forward. “Go talk to your friends. I don’t think you’ve spent any time at all with them for a while now.”

“I’ve been busy,” she agreed. Still, the negative looks on the lingering adults made her hesitate. “Those Kirlia look kinda mad. Will you be ok?”

“I am sure they just have a few reasonable worries about the plan. Don’t worry so much,” he chided. “I am not some fragile leaf quite yet. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you later!” She waved and took off; only to immediately go off-balance and fall flat on her front. Recovering, she rubbed her face as laughter erupted among the Ralts below.

“Treecko,” her companion said, poking his head out from atop her scalp.

“Okay! Off with you,” Astra commanded, picking the Pokemon off her head. A moment of arranging later, and he was relaxing in the crook of her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. “So lazy,” she muttered, poking his snout.

“Tree.”

She finally walked off the platform and was assaulted on all sides by her curious friends. Question after question assailed her, garbled into meaningless noise by sheer quantity. She even had to swat a couple prying hands reaching for her Pokemon.

“Hey! Hey!” she shouted, annoyed. “One at a time! I can’t even understand you. And stop with the hands!” She shot a look at a particularly grabby Ralts, who shied away.

“Since when did you get a name?” asked a different Ralts. “None of us have names!”

“Oh.” Astra was surprised; she had been certain that the first question would be about Treecko or humanity. Well, maybe it was about the latter, kind of. “I have one because all humans do, and humans all have personal names because they can’t talk like we do. So I guess they need other ways to grab attention?”

“Oh.” “That’s so sad! How do they share emotions?” “I want a name!” “Oh, yeah! If she gets one I want one too!” Their chittering grew excited as everyone latched onto the concept.

“Well, my grandpa gave me mine. Maybe your parents could help there?” Astra suggested.

“Nah, my parents are lame. I’ll name myself! I’ll be…Starsurge!” the newly-proclaimed Starsurge announced.

“Wah! So cool!” one of the onlookers exclaimed.

“Ooh, Me next! I’ll be…ah…Pyre!” said an excitable Ralts. He was bouncing off both feet, looking like hatching season had come early. “They’re super hot, you know!”

“I wanna be Acorn!” said a smaller girl.

Starsurge shot Acorn a look. “What? That’s lame!”

“I like acorns!” Acorn pouted. “They taste good.”

“I think it’s nice,” Astra offered.

The other Ralts were still brainstorming or looked disinterested in the exercise. “Can I see your Pokemon?” one asked, attempting to edge through the crowd for a closer look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that in the forest.”

“Ah? Yeah, I don’t think he’s from around here. I got him from the professor,” she explained, shifting around so they could get a better look.

Treecko opened one eye in an annoyed glare. “Ko.”

“The professor? Was that the human who makes trainers?”

“Yeah. He was nice. He just had me answer a few questions and took a picture.”

The Ralts looked confused. “What’s a picture?”

“It’s like…” Astra frowned and stared at the canopy above. It was like…“Oh! It was like when you look in some water and see yourself, except the image is frozen and on paper.” Reaching back, she took her Trainer ID out of her bag and showed it to everyone. They all let out an ‘ooooh.’ as they saw the image frozen on the card.

“That’s amazing!” Pyre said. “You look really silly though. What's with the black stuff?”

“I had to disguise myself to not immediately get captured,” she explained, taking the card back. “I had to get a crash course in illusions to pull this off. It wasn’t super hard; when I talked to the professor I just let his own preconceptions do the job for me.”

“I see.”

“Hey,” Starsurge butted in, “Can your Pokemon do any tricks?”

“Yeah, I wanna see a trick!” Acorn shouted, a happy gleam in her eyes. Most of the Ralts had backed off a bit to listen in without intruding, but they all came in close at the suggestion.

“Ahh, well! I don’t know?” Astra shrugged. “I just met him this morning. I guess we could try. What do you suggest?”

“I want an acorn!” said Acorn, pointing up into the trees. Astra followed her finger and spotted a particularly large nut hanging from an upper branch.

“I think he could do that, yeah.” Shifting around, she put Treecko on the ground, much to his annoyance. “Hey,” she said, catching his full attention. “Can you go get that acorn up there, please?”

Treecko huffed, then took a moment to observe the designated tree. After a moment, he shrugged.

“Ko.”

WIth that, he shot off, reaching the base of the tree in only a few moments. Treecko scurried up the bark into the canopy above in the blink of an eye. Dashing across the branches, he arrived at the designated nut only a few seconds after he started. Snapping the acorn from its stem, Treecko dropped from the trees and landed with nary a sound right where he had started, to thunderous acclaim.

“Treecko!” he said, presenting the acorn. Astra plucked it from his hands and stroked him along the back, grinning.

“Good job, Treecko!”

“That was amazing!” Acorn exclaimed. “He was so fast! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything move like that!”

“He was pretty good at rebound too. Here’s the acorn,” Astra added, handing it to the same-named Ralts.

“Good at rebound, huh?” Starsurge wondered aloud, “A non-psychic? I’ve gotta see this.”

“Well then!” Astra grinned at her Pokemon. “You up for another round?”

A dangerous gleam entered Treeckos's eye. “Treecko. Tree!”

Astra laughed. “Let’s show them what we can do!”

“I think there’s an empty field that way. Follow me!” Pyre dashed off, and all the Ralts followed in kind.

And so the party continued into the night. Delicious foods were eaten, artistic displays were appreciated, competitions were held and for one night all was well. The fires burned low and were extinguished, and Astra returned home, a sleepy Treecko in tow.

Her grandfather was waiting inside the cave, staring thoughtfully at a somewhat ornate box on the table. Setting her backpack near the door, Astra called out a greeting.

“Hm?” her grandfather started, then relaxed. “Ah, you are back. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah, everything was great!” she confirmed. “Everyone really liked Treecko. We even won a few games of rebound!” She hadn’t had that much fun for a long time. Treecko hadn’t been a half bad partner, even with him not being psychic. Becoming the center of so much attention wherever she went wasn’t unpleasant either.

But her mood dampened when he didn’t quite match his expression with her own.

“I am glad. Come, sit down. There is one last issue to discuss before the day of your departure comes.” He motioned to a stone chair next to him, but then reconsidered. “Ah, first go put your friend to bed.”

Astra laid Treecko to rest in her room, then sat next to her grandfather. “What’s in the box?” she asked.

He made a humming noise. “That is what I wish to speak to you about. It…hm. How should I put this…” He was silent for a moment. “I suppose I’ll start with the origin.”

“Eh? Origin of what?”

“The artifact within the box, of course.” He let out a sigh. “It is a very powerful item left behind by the Ancestor when she vanished. The circumstances of her disappearance were very strange; she had always been a secretive sort, but in the year before her absence she had begun to spend increasingly large amounts of time in solitude. And then one day, she simply walked into her home and never left. I believe it was your father who discovered that she had vanished; the only thing remaining was an orb.”

“An orb? Wait, that orb?” Astra’s expression turned from curious to shocked in an instant.

“Yes.” Reaching towards the chest, her grandfather meticulously unlocked the mechanism holding it closed. Then, reaching inside, he pulled out a spherical object heavily wrapped in a rough, brown cloth. It seemed to glow darkly, even through the material.

“This is the object she had left behind. We have no idea what it is precisely, but your parents both investigated it and discovered that it had the potential to transfer an incredible amount of energy into whomever used it. It was certainly left behind by the Ancestor, but we still don’t know why she left. Was she dying and wished to leave us a method to protect ourselves? I am unsure.

“I do not trust this thing,” he continued, beginning to unwrap it. “But as it was in the first instance of its use, we may not have the luxury of caution.” The last piece of cloth fell away, leaving the artifact bare. It was about six inches wide and perfectly smooth, colored like a deep moonless sky: black, and shot through with streaks of throbbing purple veins. They were shaped in a peculiar pattern, akin to a spiraling ladder that tapered off to a point on both ends.

But what was more alarming was the rather large-looking crack that streaked across its surface.

“This is…” she muttered, staring into the sphere. “This is the thing my mom used, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I am afraid so. The Alpha Mightyena was a true freak of nature, thrice as large as any of its kind ought to be. Coupled with its immunity to our psychic abilities, they had no choice but to bring its power to bear. There were no direct witnesses to the fight itself…but we could clearly feel the conclusion even from here. We’ve theorized many causes, but in the end all we know is how it ended.”

He took on a grim expression. “All we felt was a sense of overwhelming hatred and despair, followed by a mighty shockwave. There’s a small desert there now.“ His voice lowered to a murmur. “Filled with sand and anguish. No life will grow, and even the sky looks darker from within. The Mightyena was a smear upon the ground, but the backlash was too great. We had lost them both.”

The orb tapped down on the marred surface of the table. “This thing also gained an alarming fracture, though it appears to be internal as the surface still feels smooth. It also seems to work as it did before, though it doesn’t connect as well with me—or other Kirlia for that matter—as it did your parents. For all my distrust, I’ve had no adverse reactions when using it, simply a rather large increase to my psychic ability.”

This thing…it had killed them, hadn’t it? For a moment, Astra felt an overwhelming desire to smash the fragile-looking thing on the ground. “Why are you showing this to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Simply put, I want you to take it with you when you leave.”

“Wh—what!?” Astra exclaimed. Take it with her? Wasn’t this thing dangerous? “What do you mean? Didn’t this thing blow up?”

“It is an emergency measure,“ he explained, grim expression deepening. “This plan of ours is quite literally the only chance we have to free ourselves of human domination.” He put a hand on her shoulder and knelt to her level. “I would prefer if it does not become necessary at all, but should you ever find yourself discovered or in a hopeless situation, I want you to have one last failsafe. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and well. I can’t lose you too. I—I can’t...” He pulled his granddaughter into a hug, shaking.

Astra wrapped her arms around him in return. “I’ll make it through to the end. I’ll come back home, I promise.” Each word was said with absolute conviction, her head buried into her grandfather’s shoulder.

She didn’t like seeing him like this. Gramps wasn’t supposed to cry. She just squeezed, hugging him as hard as she could.

“It is all I can ask for,” he murmured in return. After a moment he pulled away, chuckling softly. “Ha, look at me. I’m getting so emotional in my old age. Your grandmother would have had a fit.”

Pulling back as well, Astra watched as he wrapped the orb inside the cloth once more, closing the chest. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Sometimes I can get worked up too.”

“A bunch of drama lovers, we are!” he agreed. “Well, we have a big day tomorrow. Have a good night, Astra. I’ll see you in the morning.” Drawing the heavy exchange to an end, he ambled over to his own little room carved into the cavern, brushing past the curtain doorway and disappearing from view.

“Good night!” she called in return. Yawning, she turned to go back to her own room. Her bed was calling fervently. And yet…her gaze flickered back to the box containing the artifact, and then to her grandfather’s door, as if he would emerge in a flash to chastise her for staying up even a moment more.

Satisfied that he probably wouldn't jump out unexpectedly, she returned to the table and stared at the box. Climbing onto the stool, she re-opened the chest and brushed aside the cloth. The orb sat there, the central structure frozen inside the inky void within, the blemish still swallowing a good third of the surface.

She didn’t like it. It had saved her people, sure, but it had taken so much from her. Mixed feelings swirled around her mind, confusion and anxiety foremost. How was she even supposed to use this thing? What were they thinking? If her mom, a Gardevoir, was unable to handle it, how could she?

Except, she remembered, Gramps said that he had tested it and he hadn’t exploded…so maybe they didn’t use all of it at once? Hesitating a brief moment, she reached out to stroke the surface of the orb. It was cold, was the first thought she had. It was absurdly, impossibly cold. Not freezing, but just barely. It was smooth too, but oddly…sticky? Her hand came away without any issue, and there was no residue; but there was a sense of resistance when she pulled away. How peculiar.

Maybe…she should test it. Just a bit, to be sure. Resting her hand back upon the sphere, she took a calming breath. Accessing her psychic abilities, she reached past the surface of the orb and the world fell a p a r t—

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

He found me.

In the ruin of a tree.

When the rain had outlasted the sun.

He had come, seeking shelter from the storm.

A mere boy.

But yet, I was a child as well.

We came face to face that day.

In the hollow where the wind sang, but did not reach.

And the water pattered, but did not pool.

We were scared, him of me, and I of him.

And yet.

He did not run.

He smiled.

And said,

Hello.

We talked.

About many things.

He told me tales of his home.

I told him stories of the forest.

He told me tales of his family.

Of a strong man.

And a kind woman.

But I could not.

For mine had gone.

He spoke to me of music.

And sang for me a song.

I showed him how to dance.

And he tried to follow along.

We collapsed.

And laughed the night away.

The sky grew light.

The rain had ceased.

And the boy had to leave.

I would be alone again.

For I had nowhere to go.

He said.

"Come with me."

"My home shall be yours."

He offered his hand.

And smiled.

I reached out in return.

And walked with him

Side by side.

“We will be together forever.”

He lied.

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

Astra gasped as her senses returned to her, and she jerked back from the box. She wobbled dangerously on the chair and toppled sideways onto the floor, disoriented and sporting a splitting headache.

“What…?”

There was no answer. Slowly, Astra pulled herself back up, staring at the box all the while. Was that…a vision? The older Kirlia could sometimes get forewarned of strange events as much as five minutes into the future, but it wasn’t going to rain anytime soon. She didn’t understand, and her head was pounding too much to think straight.

“I never should have poked it,” she griped, clutching her head. “Just what was that…?”

With no revelations in sight, Astra returned to the table. Staring suspiciously at the orb, she closed the box again—and then she retired to her room. She was too exhausted to make any sense of this.

She laid down next to Treecko and instantly fell asleep. Yet in her fading dreams, a human boy and a Ralts danced between the raindrops, laughing until the sun came up.

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

Morning came, and with it a flurry of activity along with the final farewell. Guard and grandfather at her side, she departed from the village one last time. Wrapped in her black cloak, sunhat, and carrying the backpack stuffed with items and preserved food, Astra glanced back at the village one last time. A small horde of villagers waved from the dwindling boundary of her home.

“You better keep that knife sharp, you crazy girl!” the smith called, lounging atop an elevated platform. “We still need to get that drink!”

“Bring back a whole bunch of stories!” called one of the Ralts from last night.

“Something tasty too!” added the newly named Acorn.

The sight of so many people cheering her on brought with it a sense of renewed confidence, and she couldn’t help but to smile back. She gave the spectators a big thumbs up, determination and a fierce grin adorning her face. “I’ll do my best!” she called. The trio continued on, silence gradually returning as the cheers dwindled into the distance.

The guard chuckled at her enthusiasm. “You really are something, aren’t you? I suppose this is the last time you’ll be needing me to walk you somewhere, eh?”

Astra hummed. “Next time you see me, I’ll have all sorts of Pokemon! Maybe I’ll even be a Kirlia. I think that’ll be better than any dumb old guard,” she teased.

“Oi,” the guard drawled. “How's that any repayment for my services? I’m hurt.” He tapped his chest, mock sadness in his expression. "Right here. Totally shattered. Why, I might not survive the night! Oh woe is me—ow!”

Her grandfather had whacked him across the head. “Stop that!” he said, but he was smiling too.

Eventually, they slowed, and came upon their destination. Several meters in front of them, the forest gave way to Route 102, where Astra was almost captured only two days prior.

“This is it, I guess,” the guard said. “I don’t think you need me saying it too, kid…but still, stay safe, yeah? I don’t want all my hard work going to waste, after all.”

Astra glared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes and gave the Kirlia a hug. “Thanks for protecting me.”

“Hey, hey!” the guard stammered. “It was no big deal, really! Jeez…” He grumbled for a moment, then patted the short girl on the head. “Look after yourself, alright?”

“I will.” Astra said, releasing him. He smiled, then partially retreated into the trees. That left just her and her Grandpa, both staring at the road. All that could be heard was the soft murmurs of distant wildlife.

The old Kirlia gazed wistfully ahead. “This is the last time we will see each other for quite some time. I can’t help but say that I am worried that it may be our last.”

“It won’t be,” she countered. Turning to him, she gave her grandfather the biggest grin she could. “I’ll come back soon! You’ll see. And I’ll tell you all about where I’ve been and what I’ve done.”

“Is that a promise?”

“The most important one I’ll ever keep!”

He chuckled. “Is that so? I suppose I’ll accept it. From here on out, you are on your own.” Kneeling down, he pulled his granddaughter into one last hug. “Know that I believe in you, and that I love you. You will do great things.”

“I love you too, Grandpa,” Astra said, and felt tears pool in her eyes.

For a moment, they both reached out with their minds and hearts, connecting on a level deeper than any physical touch could. Memories were shared on an intimate level; times spent fishing or playing, laughing at bad jokes or smashing berries, painting and listening to drizzling rain. Emotions too, of shared happiness and sadness, melancholy and even mutual annoyance.

All these feelings and experiences swirled together, gathered and replayed over an instant...

It could only be described as love.

The moment ended, and they separated, sad but smiling nonetheless. Astra wiped at her eyes and nodded. Her grandfather nodded in return, for there was nothing else to say.

Astra left the clearing behind, watched over by two sets of eyes, and stepped onto the road. It was wide, made of hard soil packed together by years of traffic. The trees surrounding formed a shady canopy, the air cool. In front of her, a picked-clean berry bush was planted. She stared at it for a moment, idly touched the ball in her pocket, and smiled.

Turning west, she started walking. Away from the life she had known, and towards a new beginning.