The walk seemed quiet, though the Ralts didn’t entirely trust her situational awareness in the moment. At some point she had transferred to riding the shoulders of the guard, head resting between his bright red horns. With tired eyes, she watched the trees pass by as they made their way home.
She could sense when the guard sent out a psychic message, presumably alerting everyone else about her. Idly she searched for who else might be out, but her range was still very limited; she could not sense anyone.
“You holding up okay?” the guard asked after a long silence.
“‘M tired,” she mumbled.
She could feel the amusement wafting off of him. “Yeah, going head-to-head with a pack like that does that to you.”
“You’re not tired at all!” she accused.
“Nah, I’m exhausted too. But I’ve trained for this, and I’m bigger than you as well. I can deal with it.” He smirked. “Who knows, more escapades like this and you might be as tall as me soon.”
“Do you really mean it?” she whispered. Staying awake was becoming a difficult prospect.
“Of course! Stressful experiences like that are the fastest way to become a Kirlia! Though,” he backtracked suddenly, realizing what he was saying, “you shouldn’t actually do anything like this again. These woods are dangerous, you know, and…huh.”
He paused, and only heard soft breathing in reply.
----------------------------------------
She woke up in darkness, illuminated by candlelight and a soft shine from far away. Soreness emanated from her legs, and her mouth was dry. Rubbing her eyes, the Ralts sat up and beheld the familiar comfort of her room which was located within the cave.
Her bed was a semi-carved alcove in the wall, liberally padded with dried grass and other greenery. Next to it was a large, flat boulder which held a few trinkets. A rusted old spearhead lay prominently next to a faded red hair clip at the edge closest to her resting place. Other things were strewn further back, such as a collection of interesting rocks—her favorite being the transparent green one—and even the small skeleton of a two-tailed Magikarp.
But what really caught her attention was a small cup of water next to a burning candle, set well within reach. She took a large drink and coughed as it stuck in her throat, but doggedly emptied the cup. Then she gingerly swung herself out of the alcove, grimacing at the lingering ache.
The rest of her room was somewhat empty. A small yellow ball she had found on the trails rested on the floor, and a worn-out replica of a Surskit made out of different-colored grasses lay on another rocky table. The walls were occasionally marked by her own amateur attempts at artistry—most were drawings of various other Pokemon, but a larger one depicted her, her Grandpa, and an aborted depiction of two taller figures behind them.
Putting the candle out, she gingerly made her way into the main cavern of her home. Her grandfather stood at a table against the wall, muttering to himself—she brightened up immediately at the sight of him, ache forgotten.
“Grandpa!” she exclaimed, latching onto his waist.
“Wh—! Oh dear,” he said, turning around and kneeling to return his granddaughter’s hug. “It is good to see you up and about. I admit I wasn’t expecting this for a little while yet.” He pulled away and looked her over. “Are you feeling well? Are you hurt?”
The Ralts shook her head in the negative. “I’m all right. My legs are really sore, though.”
He smiled, relief blazoned upon his face. “I am glad. You hadn’t come home at sundown and nobody knew where you had gone. I was so worried.“
The Ralts’s smile faded, and she curled into herself a little, looking away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“You’re safe now, that’s all that matters,” he murmured in return. He hesitated before continuing, “Though, I must ask a question. Please answer truthfully: what were you doing out so late?”
The Ralts froze. A myriad of excuses, each worse than the last, raced through her mind. “I…I got lost?” she tried, weakly.
Her grandfather stared at her blankly, then sighed. “I see.” Turning around, he reached back toward the table. “Would the reason happen to have something to do with…this?” Facing her once more, he held in his hand the Pokeball from yesterday morning.
She boggled at the small device. “I—what—how?”
“It was on the table by the entrance,” he stated. “We haven't had visitors for a long while, and yesterday morning you lingered at the entrance for a strange amount of time. Hiding something?”
Whatever formative plan she had begun to make wilted and died at her grandfather's stern tone. She nodded, ashamed.
“I see,” he murmured. Then his eyes sharpened. “You asked about humans before you disappeared. Where did you find this?”
“I…” Ralts hesitated. “Yesterday morning. I was picking berries on the trails—I’m sorry!” she pleaded at his disapproving frown. “The berries there are so much tastier, and I…well, nothing had ever happened before, so…”
Her grandfather didn’t say anything, but his disappointment thickened the air like soup. At her pause, he motioned her to continue.
“Ah,” she stammered. “I, ah, well. Yesterday, when I was about to go home…two humans snuck up behind me and—and tried to capture me.”
“Oh,” he breathed, staggering like he’d just gotten Tackled. “Oh child.”
“They had a Zigzagoon, and it knocked me around a bit,” she rambled. ”I…they threw that at me. I saw it coming, and dodged into the bushes and ran for it. I found it after they left.”
There was an ominous, horrified pause. “After you asked your questions, you left the village.” Her grandfather was still, as though fearing the answer. “Where did you go?”
The Ralts hesitated once more. There...really wasn’t any way to skirt around this, was there? Mustering her courage, she responded. “I went north. To the human city.”
“Oh,” her grandfather whispered. He looked ready to faint, his hands trembling mightily. “Oh, what have you done?”
“I don’t—” The Ralts reached out to him, but drew back at a sudden advance.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close. “Did they see you!? Did they follow you?” he stressed, his eyes searching her own in a panic.
“I—” The Ralts recoiled from his maddened gaze, heart thumping in her chest. She’d never seen him act like this! “N—no! They didn’t see me! I was hidden the entire time!”
Her grandfather held her gaze for a moment more, before exhaling, furor calmed by her denial. “Good.” Releasing her, he stood to his full height. “What were you thinking!?” he scolded. “You could have gotten captured! They could have found us! You—I” His face twisted, his voice lowered to a whisper. “I could have lost you.”
“I just…I…” The Ralts felt tears prick at her eyes. She wrung her hands together, robbed of any reply.
Her grandfather stood in silence for a moment longer, then sighed. “Can you tell me why? I know I have told you before that humans were trouble. Why in the world would almost being captured spur you to travel into their city?”
Ralts sniffled, then rallied. “I don’t really know. I mean, after they left, I found that ball they threw at me in the forest. It...well, can I show you?” She held out a hand. After a moment's hesitation, the aged Kirla gave her the device. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. If you press the button—” With a click, the pokeball shrank to a fourth of its size. “it shrinks, and if you press it again it grows.” She demonstrated, holding the re-enlarged pokeball aloft.
“That’s it?” her grandfather said, incredulous. “It’s just a pokeball. I don’t see how—”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’” the Ralts asked, shocked. “That’s amazing! They’re tiny little balls that can shrink and grow on command! And—and the humans keep their companions in them! I saw a full Zigzagoon pop out of the one! It was alive and well, and—and how did they do that? How does this thing work? I just…I…” She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of her rambling. “I know you told me about them earlier, but seeing it for myself was different. I just wanted to know more.”
“Hmph. There are better ways to satisfy curiosity than charging straight into a human city!” He frowned. “Were my lessons not enough? I’ve taught you so much already, and while what I know isn’t complete it should be good enough—”
"No!” the Ralts interrupted. “No, it isn’t. Everything I’ve ever heard about humans were either warnings or horror stories. Everything else is just…bits and pieces overheard from whenever we weren’t so scared that we ran away at the first sign of them!”
“Of course we run!” His tone was wavering, confused. “You should know by now how dangerous they are. They don’t have anything that’s worth the risk of discovery! Even scavenging what they leave behind is perilous. How can you even argue this?”
“You didn’t see what I saw!” she accused. Gesturing wildly, she explained. “I was there, in the city! I saw structures made of stone and glass rising taller than any tree! They had boxes with moving images in them, which talked and showed faraway places! I tasted their food, and it was sweeter than anything I had ever eaten before, and they threw it away casually like garbage! I heard a wordless song from an old man who created it with wood and strings, and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. And they ignored it.” She stalled, breathing heavily. After a moment she continued in a more even tone. “If they can ignore such wonderful things, there must be something even grander out there to make them seem dull. I’m just…I want to see it. I want to see all of it.”
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An uneasy quiet took place once more. Her grandfather stared at her, eyes wide with shock. “I…” he started, hesitating, before he gathered himself together, looking at the Ralts firmly. “Even so, you can’t do this again. If we were discovered, the humans would surely ravage our home. Here in the forest, we are safe—”
“They went to the moon.”
“—from discovery—what?”
“I said, they went to the moon. I heard it from one of their picture boxes.”
Incredulity wrote itself across his features. “You can’t be serious. Humans can’t fly, and even so, the moon is so far away—"
“They did!” Ralts roared. “They built a giant ship that goes up and they went to the moon and now they’re going to build a giant house there!”
The elderly Kirlia shifted uncomfortably, seemingly thrown off by how his granddaughter was taking control of the conversation. “Well, okay. That’s incredible. But what does that have to do with this?”
“Because, if they don’t mind flying toward the stars to reach the moon, why would they have trouble finding us here, eventually?” Ralts pointed outside. “I saw their city, and for all its size it was still growing! They were cutting down the trees at the edge of the forest to put up more structures. And their path leads them straight towards us. They’re just going to keep coming closer and closer until they run right into the village!”
Her grandfather shook his head, frustration boiling the air. “Whatever the case, it’s still not safe out there!”
“It’s not going to be safe here for much longer either!”
“Then what would you have me do!?” her grandfather snapped, temper wearing thin. “Go up to the humans and politely ask them to stop!? There can be no resolution! They would not even listen to me for a moment! Whatever they’ve done, they are still humans, and they would still capture us!”
“Then I’ll make them!” Ralts shouted, surprised at her own outburst. “With this!” Brandishing the pokeball still within her grasp, she proclaimed, “You said that the best trainer became their version of an Elder, right? A Champion? And everybody listens to the Elders! With this, I’ll become the Champion and then they’ll have to listen to me!”
Her grandfather's expression could be best described as that of a freshly caught Magikarp: open mouthed and shocked beyond comprehension. “Have you gone mad!? Becoming a trainer? What in the world are you thinking, you can’t do that!”
“Why not?” she challenged.
“They would sooner capture you!”
“Then I’ll disguise myself!” she retorted.
“What foolishness—no disguise could possibly conceal you! We look far too different!”
“Then I’ll trick them! We can do all sorts of tricks with our powers; we can make walls of light and throw objects and I even ordered a Seedot in battle while I was out there! Why can’t I learn how to make myself look like them!?”
“Stop! Just—stop, for one moment!” The Ralts stilled. Had she gone too far? Her grandfather closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He shook for a second, then clasped his hands together and exhaled slowly.
Another moment passed, and then he cracked an eye at her. “Do you remember why we are here? Or rather,” he amended, “why there is a village at all? The reason we do not all wander in the wilds aimlessly, like all other species?”
The Ralts frowned. She...vaguely remembered a tale about that, but she’d been a hatchling at the time and couldn’t quite recall it. “I forgot that one, I think. Why?”
“Hmph. You should try to remember our tales better; our history is important, though I suppose I cannot fault the others for not retelling it more than necessary now that...bah. Come, I will tell it to you myself.” He beckoned her over to a rocky table, where they sat. The Ralts fiddled with the pokeball still in her grasp, and her grandfather’s eye was drawn down towards it. “I suppose the first question is, have you heard of our Ancestor?”
“Ancestor?” She frowned. “I think I’ve heard some of the old Kirlia say things like…” She adopted an exaggerated voice, that of an old crone. “‘Back in my day, the Ancestor would have sorted this mess out right quick.’ Is that who you’re talking about?”
Grandfather nodded solemnly. “She was a Gardevoir.”
The Ralts gasped and leaned forward. Kirlia rarely evolved into Gardevoir—so much so that there weren’t any in the village right now, and hadn’t been for some time. Hearing about them was bound to be special, especially because their last two had been...
“Like my parents?” she asked.
Sorrow crossed the old Kirlia’s face, there and gone again in a flash. “Not quite. Your parents were regular Gardevoir—as far as that term can be applied. The Ancestor was different, and though she vanished a mere few seasons before your birth, I can remember that frightening woman to this day.” He leaned back. “She didn’t look like a regular Gardevoir at all, no. Your parents, they had solid green hair, eyes like rubies. My son had a coat of a pure cloud, and your mother’s was a dress of fresh snow. They wore their hearts openly, horns placed right in the middle of their chest and spine. Your father moved with calculated, elegant precision, while your mother held all the grace of the summer skies. Their dances were...beautiful.”
The Ralts felt that old ache in her heart. She had never gotten to know them, and never would. Her grandfather's words provided a tiny bit of catharsis.
“But the Ancestor, her coat was marred by streaks of darkest pitch; her hair was stained with spots of foul, stagnant water, and her eyes shone in blood. Even her horn was cracked in twain.” He stared into the distance, reminiscing. “She was a true terror; her tongue bit more than a Mightyena and fires darkened in her presence. Even crippled as she was, she exuded a power greater than anything else I have ever known.”
Well, that sounded terrifying. The Ralts couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that she was gone. “Crippled?”
“Mmm. Yes, she was crippled. Recall how her horn was cracked? A shattered horn is a horrific curse; a complete collapse in both psychic power and control, along with unimaginable agony when psychic power is used. And yet use them she did. What she could bring to bear at the hardest of times was amazing, and yet it still felt like a stream was running a route that had once contained an impossibly vast river. Even as hobbled as she was, she was our founder, protector, and leader. Her abilities were enough to ward off even the Mightyena.”
“Warded off the Mightyena?” The Ralts asked, tone wavering. “I thought you said my parents…?”
Her grandfather nodded sadly. “Mmm. When she vanished, her protections faded over time. Eventually the Alpha Mightyena and his pack were able to find our home without diversion, and decided we made for a magnificent feast. Your parents objected and, well…I have told that story before.”
The Ralts dipped her head low, and fiddled with the ball a bit. Composing herself, she returned to the matter at hand. “Why are you telling me about the Ancestor?”
“Because she is at the root of the matter. The reason that she is called the Ancestor is that every single Kirlia in the village can trace their parents and grandparents and so on right back to her. She was the founder of the village, and has lived with it for as long as it has been.”
Ralts stared in disbelief. “What? That’s crazy! She couldn’t have been so old!”
He chuckled. “Indeed, even when I was young, she was ancient. My grandfather knew her, and so did his grandfather. She was old beyond comparison, and oh, did she loathe humans.”
“Living for so long...and crippled, too. That’s...amazing! And horrible. Spending all that time in so much pain...” The Ralts digested that for a moment before the last part caught her attention. “She hated humans? Why?”
Her grandfather sighed. “Because it was the actions of the humans that crippled her.”
“What!?” The Ralts yelped.
“The story is fragmented, and she disliked talking about it, but she did retell parts of the tale every so often. To remind us. When she was young, she herself was the partner of a human. Back in ancient times when the distinction between a Pokemon and human didn’t exist. And it was the consequence of that partnership which caused her to lose so much of herself. Whatever happened, she fled that world, leaving naught but dust and bitter hatred behind her.
“She gathered every one of her kind she could find on this land and moved here, deep into the untouched forests. She took pieces of knowledge from her time with the humans and taught us how to be that slightest bit better, and then we were able to build all this, humble as it is.”
He slumped in his chair, suddenly seeming every bit his age. “She warned us of them continually. ‘Do not go near the humans, they will capture you, and hurt you.’ With her tricks nobody ever wandered near, and she took attempts at leaving...poorly. When she left us, leadership was passed to your parents as the only remaining Gardevoir. And now it is shared amongst us old folk. Every day I wonder what will vanish next.”
“I am scared,” he admitted, looking her in the eye. “I am scared of what they could do. If they could do such things to her, then…” He looked at her, voice dropping to a whisper. “My son is gone, and so is your mother. I don’t want to lose you too.”
SIlence fell. The Ralts turned the situation over in her head. What her grandfather spoke of seemed almost impossible in the face of what she had witnessed; she couldn’t imagine a place that held such marvels to be capable of also performing such horrors. But then, she hadn’t seen much, had she?
“I still want to go,” she said.
Her grandfather looked at her incredulously. “After all that I have told you, you still pursue this ambition?”
The Ralts made an affirming hum. “I get that horrible things were done to her. I get that. But…that was a long time ago, right? The people there, in the city…I can’t see them doing anything like that. And even if I stayed, we’d still be in danger from their expansion into our forest! We can’t stay here forever—and you said yourself that her protections are fading now that she’s gone. I need to do this.” She stared her grandfather down, steadfast.
The seconds ticked by as he stared right back, but then he sighed. “Stubborn, you are. Just like your father. I suppose you got that sharp tone of yours from your mother, too.
“You’ll need a cloak, I think,” he continued, and the Ralts’s eyes widened. “Maybe a hat? You’ll need a more thorough understanding of illusions as well, which shouldn’t take too long—urk!?” He grunted, interrupted by an abrupt impact.
Smiling, he returned his granddaughter's hug.
“Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ll have to do a bit of preparation, and there’s still the fact that you need to fool one of those professors into thinking you’re human. But, first things first, you need a name.”
The Ralts blinked, looking up at her grandfather in confusion. “A name?”
He chuckled. “What, you didn’t notice? Humans aren’t psychic and don’t talk via telepathy. They use their voices, and they can’t just identify someone by the patterns of their mind. So they need to single people out with a personal name!” He patted her head. “Took me a bit to figure that one out too. And I didn’t go sneaking around the city!
“So!” The elderly Kirlia kneeled, and clapped both hands on her shoulders. “As your grandfather, it is my pleasure to grant you a name! Something worthy of the hope you seek to bring us, I think. My son, he was like the night, harmonic in nature and of calm mind. Your mother was like the day, with a burning spirit of fiery passion and determination. Haha, I think I’ve got it!”
The Ralts jittered, giddy at the prospect. “What is it? What is it?”
“So, the humans think they can go wherever they please! They can have the moon, I say,” he said with a flourish. Spreading his hands, he continued, “We’ll go even further beyond, as we always have! Granddaughter, I bestow upon you the name Astra; for we came from the stars, and shall all one day return, but in the present you are a piece of the heavens walking the earth, set to shine brilliantly across all the land. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”
Astra grinned.
“Now, let’s see about that disguise…”