INTERLUDE - TRUTHSEEKER

Three days earlier.

Emilia had made it to the top sixteen in Pokemon Contests numerous times, but tonight? Tonight was different. She stepped through the darkened hallway with steady breaths, making sure that her nervousness couldn't be noticed by the judges or the spectators. A bright spotlight shone down on her as soon as she made it into the performing area, and thousands of cheers filled her ears. Despite doubt creeping up within her, Emilia smiled and waved, making sure that the light caught the way her blue dress sparkled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first contestant of the second match of the top sixteen, we have Emilia Lussier!" the commentator announced through the cheers. "A rising star, this one, making it here a total of eight times despite this being her first year as a coordinator! Are you excited to see what she has planned for us today?"

They were, of course, but Emilia had been here enough to know that there was tension in the crowd, like they were waiting for someone else. Someone who wasn't her. Rising star with a growing fanbase, she might have been, but she was no match for her opponent. Most people probably thought of this match as a foregone conclusion. Emilia stared at the opposite hallway, her eyes drifting across the circular arena, its floor clad with reinforced steel painted with a homely beige. Temperance Porter had come in a crimson dress today, her hair now dyed with different shades of red that somehow made her look even better. She did not smile, keeping her usual neutral expression on her face. The music— some classical dramatic song that Emilia couldn't name— swelled to a crescendo as she made it onto her own platform. Unfair, Emilia thought. They synced Temperance with the music, but not her?

"And on the other side, we have Temperance Porter!" she announced. "She's been in more contests than we can count, but she's never breached into the quarter-finals at the Grand Festival! She's been on absolute fire this year, however, beating rival after rival! She's got a seemingly never-ending bag of performances, so I'm sure tonight will show us something new and exciting!"

This was a foregone conclusion, Emilia thought. But that did not mean she would not give it her damnedest. They expected her to go down lying down, didn't they? She had no ribbons to her name, after all, while Temperance already had enough to be qualified at the Grand Festival, which would be held in Jubilife this summer. Emilia's smile grew sharp. Her back was against the wall. She was a cornered Pokemon with no hopes of making it through the next ten minutes.

But she would not go gently into the night.

"Coordinators, send out your Pokemon!"

Temperance sent out her Dragonair, which was usually always paired with her Meowstic. Tonight, however? It was her Whimsicott that came out of her ball. Both floated in the air as if gravity was a suggestion rather than a law.

"What is this? A fairy and a dragon? Let's see what Temperance is planning for us tonight!"

Even the judges looked to be at the edge of their seats, and to be honest, Emilia was too. What new wonders would Temperance showcase today? It was a question forever on everyone's minds every time she stepped into the ring, and it could be terrible for your focus during a performance if you let it get to your head. Emilia released Metang and her newly-evolved Braixen onto the cold metal. Temperance's Pokemon were no doubt beyond hers in power, but this was a performance. The goal was not to pummel your opponents like in battles, it was to showcase the beauty of Pokemon moves by using two of your teammates. Braixen grabbed her wooden twig from her tail. The small staff was her implement, and through it, she could weave fire into whatever she wanted. Metang's cold voice rang into Emilia's head.

The performance has been studied more times than we can count. We are ready to execute, they said.

The commentator spoke up, but Temperance held out a hand and closed it in her general direction.

The older woman shut up immediately, as was customary during her performances. The commentator announced for the performance to begin, and Emilia sprung to action, outstretching her arm to look as beautifully and as smoothly as possible, as she had practiced a thousand times.

"Sparkling Cannon and Will-O-Wisp!" she yelled out.

Braixen twirled her staff, summoning a set of purple flames that appeared in the midst of the birth of a hundred stars. Metang concentrated light at a hundred different points, condensing them until they exploded all at once, down to the millisecond. That part was important for what came next. The Will-O-Wisps absorbed the blinding lights all at once, all shifting with countless colors, but instead of displeased unpleasant screams, Braixen commanded the ghost to sing. A single hum, rising and rising until she chopped her staff down and sent the hundred multi-colored flames barrelling toward Whimsicott and Dragonair. The dragon's eyes shone, and thick barriers appeared around both her and her teammate. No damage had been taken, yet the large screen high above them showed that Temperance had lost points anyway, though only a sliver.

The crimson-haired girl snapped her fingers. "High Garden."

Whimsicott spun, and the world blurred, leaving way for a field of red flowers, dripping with some kind of red substance that looked like, but wasn't blood. As always, Temperance was on theme with herself. She centered her performances around what she looked like that day, and it was working.

Metang spoke into her mind. Preparing interference—

Dragonair was quicker. The snake-like dragon summoned a ball of light into the sky, speeding up the flowers' growth, and all of them turned to face Metang as if they were the sun itself.

"Braixen, Fireball!" Emilia yelled.

The fire type spun her staff, but the flowers spat out gallons of their liquid, forming a ball of… what the hell even was that? The red sphere shimmered, drawing the fireball and smothering it before it could reach and burn the flowers. Not that they were needed any longer. The red flowers withered in pink dust that coated the bottom of the arena while Temperance spoke and the Sunny Day plunged down into the red sphere. So much was happening it was overwhelming. Emilia's points were steadily going down.

Breathe. "Metang, use Psychic. Disrupt the liquid. Braixen, you help with Confusion."

Not the best plan, but Emilia couldn't let what was happening come to fruition. The red liquid started rippling across its surface until Dragonair flew forth and summoned a set of flaming rings around itself and sent them down instead of toward her Pokemon. At Whimsicott's command, the pink dust coating the floor surged upward, joining the flames and extinguishing them—

They instantly reappeared around Metang, as if they'd been Teleported. Braixen lifted her wooden twig up, taking command of the flames from Dragonair and cleansing Metang, but that was the opening Temperance had needed. The Sunny Day plunged into the red orb, and for a second, the world went white. There was no vapor generated from the heat. Instead, the red liquid condensed down into the sun and turned it crimson.

A crimson sun, basking the entire stadium in its light.

The world held its breath, and the entire arena was Temperance's.

"Crimson Laser," the coordinator said.

From the sun, beams of red light surged so quickly Metang barely had enough time to redirect the first. The second him the steel type in the arm, and the third went for Braixen. What even was this? It wasn't water— but why did Whimsicott have control over it? Some kind of glamour nonsense? Think! She couldn't stay on the defensive forever, but she couldn't counter the crimson sun. This was a coup de grace. The pinnacle of a coordinator's performance— what they had come here to create. That meant Temperance was out of tricks of this magnitude, at the very least. At its core, this was still a Sunny Day. Fire TE mixed with something else.

Emilia stared at the back of Braixen's head, her tired breaths growing shorter and shorter. She had around thirty percent of her points left, while Temperance still had ninety.

"Braixen. Let's steal the sun," Emilia declared.

The fire type grinned, clenching her fingers around her small staff and began to chant. Braixen was not just a fire type. She was something akin to a mage, who could use her staff to control flames far beyond what she should have been able to. Temperance ordered Dragonair to defend the orb, and the dragon gathered electricity around its horn. The beam of Thunder was suspended in the air for effect, going completely still as if it were frozen in time. Temperance brought her arm down, and it flew toward Braixen.

"Metang, Light Show!"

It began like a Flash Cannon, but diverged and turned into multiple beams before Emilia could blink. They all exploded outward, half of them homing toward the Thunder to intercept, and the rest all aiming toward Dragonair. Whimsicott cried out, and another laser from the sun cut across Metang's silver body. Still, the Thunder was intercepted in a brilliant explosion, and Dragonair used Protect to shield itself from any harm. Emilia felt the hair on her neck rise, but she steeled herself and pointed at the sun, her movements in sync with Braixen.

Crimson flames engulfed the fire type's staff, stretching down to her arm as she felt the huge backlash from trying to take control of fire that wasn't hers. Still, the next laser was barely a pittance, squirting out and splattering against the floor. The next never came. The crimson sun dimmed as Braixen yelled, redirecting it toward Whimsicott. Temperance's eye twitched, but she kept her cool.

"Collapse."

Ah.

Dragonair hummed. The sun disappeared, winking out of existence and only leaving behind the red liquid that had coated it.

It was over.

The dragon did not sit still. It sang, aiming a Dragon Pulse at the ground, which Whimsicott redirected with wind so strong Braixen was kicked back, adding shimmering pink to the turquoise hue. It had taken everything, to steal the sun for a few seconds, and the fire type fainted immediately from a hit to the torso. Before Temperance could move on to Metang, an obnoxious buzz rang out, signaling that Emilia's points had dropped to zero. Temperance's remained at around seventy-five percent.

Cheers rang out all around her, cheering for Temperance, but there were more subdued than what her old idol had grown used to. Emilia had given her a scare, at the very least, and that?

That was a sign of what was to come.

This was close to the best-case scenario we calculated, Metang said. Granted, you never want our input for these things. We will admit that stealing the sun was not among those calculations, however. Ingenious. Braixen has made wonderful progress.

She would have answered, but knew that there was no way the psychic would be able to hear through the cheers. Emilia stayed for the commentary from the judges, as was customary, but most praised Temperance's ingenuity and not her. That was honestly what she'd expected, really. Emi was proud of her performance, even though she wished she'd been more aggressive instead of letting herself fall into her opponent's pace. She walked back through the hall and after talking to numerous fans and the press, she joined Vincent outside of the waiting room. It had been a while, since she'd seen the first coordinator who'd given her the time of day in person, but they'd stayed in contact the entire time. He was, after all, her video editor and friend.

"Emilia, what in the world was that?"

"What?" the girl asked as they walked through the Contest Hall. I really need to hire a manager already, she thought. Denzel already has one.

"The sun thing with your Braixen!" the short teen insisted. "You almost pulled the rug from under Temperance! I bet she's pissed."

"She didn't look that way."

"She's always stoic. I bet you she's the kind of gal to let all of her frustrations out in private, though. You basically ruined her showcasing a new technique."

"I didn't ruin it, I just appropriated it for a short time," Emi smirked. "Either way, it was a lost cause. We don't have the versatility needed with our techniques to counter hers yet. She was setting up for so long, and I couldn't do anything to stop her."

The air outside was cooler than usual, and Emilia shivered slightly.

"You're growing quickly. I think you're a shoo-in for the Grand Festival next year if you keep up the pace, honestly. You're going to start winning actual ribbons soon," Vincent said. "Kind of makes me feel like shit, but hey."

Emilia snorted. "You made it to the top sixteen in your last contest."

"Yeah, but that was my first time. I'm lagging behind," he said. "Remind me to stop editing your videos, so I get more free time to practice."

"Come on, you get half of the revenue."

"It's funnier if I pretend to be overworked, underpaid labor."

"You and I have very different definitions of funny," Emi snorted.

"Still laughed, though. Beautifly's been working on this insane technique with Morning Sun— I'm trying to give the entire thing a gravitational field, kind of like your friend Grace's Moonblast, but it's hard when you're not a fuckin' fairy type."

"You'll manage," she simply said.

The two spoke together of new ideas and combinations until Emilia's driver arrived.

Now that her performance was done, it was time to meet her parents after dropping off Braixen and Metang to the Center.

—

Emilia leaned against the car window, her previously tied-up hair now loose and her eyes tired once more. Keeping up appearances during contests was one of the most difficult parts of the sport, when she didn't feel like smiling. Her mouth still hurt from being stretched for so long, but Emilia had grown used to it by now, though keeping up a smile and not flinching when everything in your performance was going to hell had been among the most difficult things to adjust to after having been a trainer. She honestly couldn't believe she'd been one, these days. Her fight against Roark had been simple enough with Metang, but Gardenia had been another world entirely, as was often the case for the second badge. The fact that her parents had believed she could just snap her fingers and get herself to the Conference without the passion or drive to do so had been… stupid, to say the least. Though maybe they believed she would get into it, if given enough time and experience.

It wouldn't have been the first time it would have happened. They had forced many things upon her growing up, most of which she still somewhat enjoyed to this day, and she'd gotten good at rapidly. Dance, tennis, accounting… those had been the big three, but there were many more.

Emilia watched Hearthome's pretty lights as they reached the north-western part of the city, where the modern buildings grew less numerous by the minute and were replaced by ancient ones built earlier in the city's history. She absent-mindedly grabbed her phone, browsing the comments for her latest video— two weeks ago. Her normal schedule was one video per week, and people were starting to wonder when the new one was, or if she'd taken a break.

I don't even know, Emilia thought. Did she need a break? The ideas weren't flowing as freely as they once did, and she didn't have Denzel to bounce ideas with. Metang were terrible at imagining something people would like and were entirely too clinical about it, too. The coordinator groaned as her driver slowly parked the car in her massive driveway. She needed something to break through the top sixteen. Every time she made it past the first stage, she was put against people more skilled than she was. Being put against Temperance of all people was like pouring salt in the wound.

Denzel… It wasn't like they were speaking much these days, despite how much he wanted to. Something was eating at Emilia's core, and it was the same thing she'd felt while the entire group was in Veilstone. The explanation the League and he had afforded her after the events at the Pokemon Mansion made sense, but she knew Denzel by now. Despite his tall appearance, deep down, he was a softie who liked pretty things, and most of all, he was a terrible fucking liar. So, despite the fact that he was sitting in a hospital bed with Pauline by his side, Emilia was giving him the cold shoulder.

Gothitelle had warned Pauline, that she saw danger in her future because of Grace, Cecilia, Chase and Mira. Now, Denzel knew something, or his entire demeanor wouldn't have changed. Hell, it probably had to do with the fact that he was in the raid, too. Something was happening beyond what Emilia could see, and the fact that Denzel was trying to behave as if that wasn't the case pissed her off. She'd thought Pauline would have been the same, but she'd been too shaken by his injury, and so kept putting the confrontation off and delayed as she usually did. Emilia knew that the questions were eating at Pauline as much as they ate at her, yet she didn't want to cause another fight. Not after everything Pastoria had put Denzel, Cecilia and the others through.

Sometimes, however, you had to put your foot down, and so Emilia had sent a text yesterday. Either you tell me what's going on, or this keeps going.

She still hadn't received a straight answer, and Arceus forgive her, but she would be willing to bring a torch to this entire… dating experiment if Denzel kept not taking her seriously. She was not someone to be coddled— she had had enough coddling for a lifetime. Emilia knew she was not as powerful of a trainer as her friends were (although coordinating had been surprisingly effective at giving her a second wind in that regard), but she was not a child to be kept in the dark for her own good, as he had said.

"Thank you, Paul," Emilia said as he opened the door for her. The tall, balding man just bowed, as if she was some kind of royalty. That behavior sickened her, these days. "No need for all the theatrics. I'm just a girl."

"It would not be proper," he simply answered.

Unwilling to get into a debate about it, she just sighed and decided to move on.

This was one of her parents' numerous properties in Hearthome, although one of the more 'humble' ones, given the fact that it was still near the city's core. That meant that it was on the smaller side of things, and one of Hearthome's older structures. Emilia ran a hand over its weathered limestone façade, which rose above the cobblestone street of this… gated neighborhood. She lifted her head and looked at the wrought-iron balconies, which were adorned with floral motifs and overlooked Hearthome from above. This place is the same as when I left it. Arched windows, framed with intricately carved stones and covered by wooden shutters painted blue. Emilia had been staying at a hotel, but now that her parents had been discharged from the hospital, they'd invited her here for dinner after her performance. They'd been too weak to go to the performance itself, but supposedly, they told her they'd watch it on television.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Paul followed her, unlocking the heavy wooden doors, and Emilia stepped through the tight entry hallway. Past this, however, the inside of the building was a lot larger than the outside gave it credit for. Emilia's heels clacked on the delicate, mosaic floor of the foyer, where two maids bowed as they greeted her.

"Welcome home, Emilia," they said in unison, outstretching their hands to the right. "Ms. and Mr. Lussier are ready for you in the dining room."

"Okay. Thank you."

Emilia strode through their home, reminiscing on the old times Pauline and her used to stay here and they'd hide away from everything. Sometimes, when Emi hadn't been able to take her parents anymore, Pauline would have them sneak out after using her phone to call one of her drivers here, and she'd bring her to Josephine for the night. Pauline's mother had her… quirks, and expected a lot of her daughter— too much— especially when protecting their business, but she'd always been good to her as a rule, or at least a lot better than Emilia's own family. Her parents beamed when they saw her step through the arched entryway to the dining room. Harry and Alice Lussier. Emilia shared her mother's chestnut hair, though she had her father's thin nose and softer face. It was easy to see that they were still slightly short of breath, with their chests rising and lowering at quick intervals. They'd been in a room full of smoke due to a Flareon's rampage, but she hadn't known what had happened beyond the fact that the ACEs and Chase came and saved them.

"Emilia, my dear!" her mother smiled. "Come and sit!"

Luckily, this was one of their appropriately sized tables, so Emilia sat down facing both her parents. Drinks had already been served, though she only had water, and attendants came with an entrée— a salad of some kind.

"So. How was your first day out of the hospital?" Emilia asked.

"It feels good to be out of that place," Harry said before sipping on some red wine. "They say it'll take some time for our lungs to get back to full strength, but we'll make a full recovery soon enough."

Emi smiled, feeling genuine relief. "Great."

She hadn't known her parents would be at that party, because she'd cut contact with them in Sunyshore when they had called and given her another snide remark about Pauline when she had announced their… split. The words themselves hadn't been more annoying or ignorant than usual. It had just been accumulating for a while. This feeling that no matter what she did, she would never be enough for them if she didn't fit in a neat little box they could shove her in.

"To think that Edward would be involved in such a scheme…" Alice murmured, paling. "It's always the ones you least suspect."

Her Dad nodded, slightly breathless. "I'd heard rumors that he enjoyed seeing rare Pokemon. He let it go to his head." Harry stopped and glanced toward Emilia. "Straighten your back, will you?" her father chided. "And hold your fork properly."

Here we go again. And fuck, she did straighten her back even more than what she thought was possible, as if it was almost an instinctual response. She'd already been sitting straight, anyway! Arceus, what she would do to have Metang with her right now.

"Good," he said. "How are you finding the food?"

I don't like salad that much, especially when vinegar makes it taste awful, and you know that. "It tastes good," she lied. Don't start a confrontation. "How did you know Backlot? Did you sell him some property somewhere or something?"

"We did, back when you were five or six. We sold him a wonderful patch of land up north in the Frontier. One of the few bits of land which aren't owned by the government," Harry explained. "The League has already announced they're requisitioning the land, and there's nothing we can do about it. A shame."

Her mother spoke up. "He built a resort up there. It brought him some income, especially during the winter months. People always like to retreat to the Battle Frontier's southern coast when it gets too cold on the mainland. Really, we underestimated the land's value…"

They started speaking to each other about land value and other nonsense which Emilia welcomed with open arms as she forced herself to finish her entrée. Soon enough, the main course came, and finally it was something Emilia actually liked. She dug into the high-quality steak that melted in her mouth, though she did not miss her mother's sneer, and instinctively slowed herself down. Times away from them and with her friends had made Emilia grow used to eating to enjoy herself instead of eating to look proper.

"Your performance was great. Facing down Temperance herself? Our friends were very impressed," she said. "Losing was a shame, but it's true that you're much more at home in the coordinator world than the trainer world."

As if you care. Her mother just wanted to brag to her friends, as usual. "I am," she dryly answered. "I like it much better, and I don't have to risk my life going through deadly places. You know, like Eterna Forest."

Alice continued. "Plenty of trainers make it through all of Sinnoh without a hitch. It's those people you're with, who forced you into danger."

Ah, yes, those people. Specifically, Grace, Cecilia and Pauline, the only friends Emilia's parents had a problem with. Surely it was all a coincidence, and not the fact that they were all not straight. Emilia just grunted and kept eating. They just almost died. I at least owe them dinner.

"There are plenty of rumors floating around," her Mom said. "Pauline even was arrested by trying to get involved in the raid, wasn't she? It'd be best if you didn't get involved with her any further. What if she'd gotten in and ruined the entire operation? Things like this are delicate. She could have caused more hostages to die—"

The guilt trip is coming. They were going to say that Pauline could have caused them to die. "Aren't you tired?" Emilia asked, dropping her utensils on the table.

Her mother frowned. "Excuse me—"

"Aren't you tired?" she repeated. "Of always singing the same song? Playing the same game?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Was it something I said?"

"Legendaries, you're the worst," Emilia tiredly sighed. Her father opened his mouth, but she was faster. "When I heard you'd almost died, I wanted to give you another chance. I wanted to mend the bridge between us. I was ready to ignore everything you've done to me and start fresh. But you can't even bring yourself to stop."

Emilia rose from her seat.

"Emi— please, stay," her Dad begged.

It was odd, how she started feeling bad as soon as she saw the regretful tint in his eye. Was it a trick, or did he genuinely feel bad? Did he actually want to change? Or did he want to keep her in a box, forever defined the way he wanted her to be? After everything they'd done to her, it was disheartening to see that they actually did love her, in their terrible, fucked up way.

"I'm asking you to try, and you can't even do that," Emilia said. "You keep pushing me away and wondering why I keep wanting to leave, because your jabs are subtle. You're the reason I was thrown into danger. Not Pauline or anyone else. You made me go on the journey against my will. I'm leaving."

"And we apologized numerous times—"

Harry raised a hand, interrupting Alice.

"Please sit, Emilia. We'll stay away from… sensitive topics from now on."

Emilia's shoulders slumped. "Ah. You don't get it." She turned away. "You think you can just ignore it, and it'll go away." The girl stopped and drew in a long breath. It'd be better than what they were currently doing— constantly digging at her friendships in hopes that something would give— but at the end of the day, their opinions wouldn't actually change. "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me. Not anymore. Maybe at some point, I'll give you another chance, but you won't be seeing me again for a while. Message me if you need anything regarding your health."

Her parents protested, but they did not get up. They did, after all, see the purse she carried her Pokeballs in, and Lycanroc could get in a foul mood.

—

The drive back to the hotel was silent, though Emilia noticed her parents had not recalled Paul as her driver and forced her to call a taxi like she thought they would. They were getting better, at least, but they were not entitled to Emilia's presence, especially if being in the same room as them felt extremely draining. Though she had expected tears, they never came. She just felt numb. Her fingers felt sluggish as they scrolled through her phone, browsing some nonsense on social media to pass the time. At least that worked, given the fact that before she realized it, she was back at her hotel. The same one Amy Saunier— Cecilia's old best friend— had stayed at until her recent flight to Unova. Honestly, she'd stayed for far longer than Emilia expected, given what Sinnoh was currently turning into. She must have been holding out for hope that Cecilia would change her mind and talk to her again, though that never ended up happening. While Emilia hadn't known Cece before they met last summer beyond glancing at each other during get-togethers where Clarence would fly to Sinnoh with her and his wife, Emilia had to admit that Grace had rubbed off on her in many ways, including holding grudges. Amy Saunier would get no second chances.

"They're trying to change, you know," her driver said as soon as he opened the door. "The raid… changed them, but you know how they are. Give them time."

"I've been giving them time," Emilia grumbled and took his hand. "Thank you anyway, Paul."

Maybe in a few years, they'd be willing to accept her for who she was. Tonight wasn't that night, however. Emilia bid her driver farewell and walked toward her hotel's entrance. She was no longer paying with her parents' money but with her own means. Money she'd earned through contests or simply making content. Being independent felt good, at least. No longer would she be beholden to anyone else and feel any kind of obligation towards them.

Emilia did a double-take when she saw Mira sitting on one of the lobby's luxurious couches. The girl had always been pale, but she was white as snow, and had heavy bags under eyes that she struggled to keep open. The temperature seemed to lower slightly as Emilia approached, and she felt a little chill down her spine when she got within hearing distance until it got overwhelming the closer she got. Mira tapped a foot against the floor repeatedly, and the feeling disappeared as fast as it had come. Must be Haunter again, Emilia thought. He's been rowdy lately.

They hadn't spoken that many times despite having been in the same city. Once, when Mira had reached it, they'd gone out for lunch. The second time, Mira had needed a break from something that she wouldn't explain, and she'd come to watch Emilia train her Pokemon. More secrets, Emilia thought with disdain. She'd gotten very busy these past few days, however, so the coordinator hadn't expected to see her again. Since she knew Mira was hiding something, part of her had wanted to give her the cold shoulder as she had to Denzel, but she looked so miserable it was hard to be mean to her. In all of their months having known each other, Emilia had never seen her friend this way.

"Hi," Mira tiredly said. There was no upward inflection in her tone, it was just a statement. Entirely unusual. "I thought I'd wait for you here, since you finished your contest thing. Sorry about your loss. I ended up waiting a lot longer than I thought, though."

"I was at my parents'. You look like hell," Emilia said, sitting next to her. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, you know. The usual."

"I… don't know," Emi frowned. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Mira's eyes fluttered open. "I haven't been able to sleep."

Well, that much was obvious, but it was still a breakthrough. "Nightmares about the raid?" Emilia guessed. "You can talk to me, if you want."

She was being selfish, and she knew it. Of course, she was worried for a friend, but she also wanted answers. Why was it that Gothitelle had warned Pauline? Why were there so many secrets? Her every thought was consumed by this question, and Emilia had grown past waiting for looming confrontations to fester.

"What's got you worried—" Emilia stopped when she realized what this meant. This was a cry for help. "You know what, why don't you head up to my room first? Have you eaten anything today?"

"Oh, I've eaten plenty. I can do everything, still, I just can't keep my eyes closed," the pink-haired girl shuddered. "Thanks, though."

Emilia lifted up her friend and guided her to her hotel room, where she promptly collapsed on the bed and started making 'snow angels'. Emilia grabbed some water from the fridge and some remaining crackers she had, just in case, and placed them on the bedside table if Mira ever wanted them. She sat on the foot of the bed and they lingered in silence for a minute or so until Mira suddenly rose.

"What do you want me to do?" Emilia asked.

"Hang out, mostly. Make me feel right again," Mira said. "My Pokemon are worried sick, and therapy's working, but not for the nightmares. It's like I can't escape…"

"Escape what?"

The girl closed her eyes, and she flinched. "You know… I guess it's time to put my money where my mouth is."

Emilia frowned as her fingers tingled. "Huh?"

"Can I tell you something? Like, something you need to take to your grave."

"Yes…? I mean, it entirely depends on what that is, doesn't it—"

"Denzel couldn't tell you about this because you left early, but Backlot? He didn't die due to a misfire in the raid," Mira said. Her eyes drifted to Emilia's, which she instantly averted due to something akin to shame and disgust— at her own self? "I caused him to die— no, I killed him after he surrendered."

Emilia froze, and suddenly, the girl who she'd thought she had known had become someone else entirely. What she thought had been a soft exterior left place for jagged edges. After he surrendered. The words bounced around her head like Mira was saying them over and over. Her bed felt as hard as concrete under her. Answers, Emilia. You need answers. Ignore that little voice at the back of your head telling you to run.

"I… thought you'd only killed that one guard outside," she stumbled over her words.

"That was self-defense. What I did was— I— I tortured him to death, Emilia. For hours, I sicced my Haunter on him while I watched. What he did was…" Mira paled, and for a second, Emilia thought she'd retch. "I'd rather not talk about it, but it made Backlot kill himself."

Torture.

Emilia felt as if she'd been slapped by the new information. Who was this? Who had she just been talking to this… this entire time?

"I need to go to the bathroom."

She'd already been running off by the time the words were gone. Emilia had wanted to yell out don't leave, but she was too astonished to speak. She slammed the door closed and gripped at the ceramic sink until her knuckles turned white as she stared at herself in the mirror. Torture. Hours, spent meticulously driving someone to suicide. Who was that, in my room? Monster, the answer instantly came. The fact that she seemingly regretted it didn't erase the fact that she'd gone through with it. Edward Backlot had been a monster, yes, but to torture him until he gave up on life? Countless scenarios ran through her head as she imagined the ways Haunter could have done it. Haunter, whom she'd seen numerous times and thought nothing of, beyond it being incessantly annoying.

She looked at herself in the mirror, face twisted in disbelief, fear and confusion. Her heart drummed against her chest, her ears pounding so loudly with each heartbeat that she could barely hear herself think. A minute passed. Then two. Then, she finally let go of the sink and drew in a shaky breath. Who was that in my room? she repeated to herself. Mira Compton. She'd done something terrible, but regretted it to this much of an extent. Backlot had caused the death of thousands of Pokemon throughout this decade. She wouldn't mourn him, but there was something about Mira being capable of torture that left a horrid taste in Emilia's mouth.

She stared at herself one last time and steeled her face. She wasn't a little girl any longer. Emilia wanted answers, but now she knew that the caliber of the information she was after would shake her to her core. More than one person killed, she had expected. Only an idiot would think that the only people who'd fallen to her friends had been in the garden. But this…

Emilia flushed the toilet to pretend like she'd been using it, and then opened the door with a trembling hand. Mira was still sitting there, though she looked slightly better than she had before, for some reason.

"Mira—"

"I'm sorry to spring that on you. I needed to… tell someone who didn't know. I can't be a hypocrite. I can't keep going after others for not telling the truth if I keep mine hidden because it's convenient."

"The others knew, and didn't tell me anything?" Emilia muttered in disbelief.

"With your parents, Denzel and Pauline thought—"

"Thought what? That I wouldn't be able to handle it?" Emilia hissed.

"Well, you definitely had the worst reaction—"

"Don't start."

Mira's mouth flattened, and her shadow seemed to move. That was Haunter in there, Emilia thought with an audible gulp. It took everything she had not to take a step back.

"I won't ask you any details. I'd rather not know," the coordinator dryly spoke. "Is that the… worst of what happened inside?"

"It is. And I can't fucking stop seeing it when I close my eyes, Emi," Mira said through clenched teeth.

"Then… why? I don't— I don't understand."

"I have a Gengar, now," Mira said.

What? Her eyes glanced down at the shadow again, which seemed to thicken under Mira. Had it always been so cold in here? She'd been sitting right next to it. What did it even look like? There were illustrations— always illustrations, but Emilia knew it would pale compared to the real thing. So the torture had something to do with the evolution?

"He won't do anything. He's still the same as he's been, beyond some quirks we've been working through thanks to Fantina's help. But I still would have done it, even without Gengar evolving. Do you know why?" There was madness in her eyes, like a continuous stream of delirium that never ended. "Because Maeve almost died because of the fucking scheme he was running. Because of all of the people who have to live without their Pokemon due to his actions. Because he deserved it. And if I order Gengar to do something this horrid, then I owe it to him to watch and see it through. To remind myself of the shit I've wrought."

"So you think he deserved it… but you can't handle the fact that you've done it?"

The pink-haired girl nodded tightly. "It's not a decision I would have taken lightly, and back then, Emilia? There was no way he was getting off easy. If it hadn't been Gengar…" she trailed off, but stopped. "I don't think it'll ever go away. Maybe recede, if this therapy thing starts working."

"So you came here just to drop this on me? What am I supposed to do with this?"

Now, she knew that her friends thought she was too weak to handle this— and by the Legendaries, they'd nearly been right, but the loss of faith still stung. Emilia had stared down the precipice and taken the plunge.

"Don't answer that," Emilia continued. "I don't know what you expected from me— I am horribly unqualified for all of this, but you… you need to sleep. Can't you have one of your psychics forcefully put you under?"

"That's already how I do it, but I don't want to become reliant," Mira muttered. "Gardevoir's been throwing a fit about putting me back together, but she can't. Not for this. And so, I suffer the consequences of what I've done. Feels strangely appropriate."

"Look, how much longer are you staying here for?" Emilia asked against her better judgment.

"Fantina says I'll be ready to leave at the end of the week. Then I'll be going up north. Teleporting to Solaceon and walking through Coronet."

To Snowpoint, Emilia already knew. But why? Mira was no longer going after the badges, so what was it that was so important about going north?

"You want answers," Mira guessed. "I can't give them to you."

"So you tell me about some things, but not everything," Emilia said with a dry laugh. "I thought you didn't want to be a hypocrite."

"For this, I'd rather be a hypocrite than not," she said after a bout of silence. "And you would, too, if you knew. Look, I'll just leave. Can I grab these crackers? I lied when I said I'd eaten today."

Emilia couldn't help but feel relief, despite not really wanting to. "Fine. Go. But don't think this is over."

Mira stood up. "You won't be seeing me again while I'm in Hearthome, Emi. You're better off staying away from us until the year's over."

The us didn't fall on deaf ears. She meant the same people Gothitelle had warned her about.

"Mira, I need answers—"

Mira shook her head, and just drifted toward the door with steps so silent they were disturbing to focus on. Part of Emilia wanted to stop her. To yell at her. But when she opened her mouth, only a half-gasp came out instead. Emilia's legs gave way, and she sat on her bed with trembling legs. How deep did this all go? Emilia was terrified to know, but she had learned to push through despite her fear, hadn't she? When she'd plunged into the depths of Mount Coronet to rescue Cecilia in spite of her every instinct howling at her to get out.

Come hell or high water, she would find out what was happening here.

"I need to call Pauline."

—

It took five calls for Pauline to answer, and when she did, it was clear she'd been asleep. The redhead mumbled a few nonsensical words until Emilia raised her voice to call out her name.

"You awake, now?" Emi asked. "This is important."

"I am—"

"Good. First, today I just learned that you omitted something from me. I know you were worried about my issues with my parents, but you could have told me about what happened to Edward Backlot. That's not like you, Pauline. You don't do this cloak and dagger shit."

"You… who told you? Mira?"

"Doesn't matter," Emilia said. "I'm hurt, Pauline. Am I just a liability, now? Someone you have to protect? I thought we both knew I'd grown past that."

"I was going to tell you."

"But you didn't. And I had to learn it from someone else."

"Look, I'm sorry. I just thought I was looking out for you… how did dinner with your parents go, by the way?"

"Awful. They were the same as always, but like, a smidge improved," Emilia said, clenching her forehead. "I thought the raid would have changed them… I mean, I guess they changed a little. Now they want to ignore the fact that I'm pan and hope it goes away instead of trying to gaslight me out of it. It's just… I guess it was too much to hope that their entire worldview would flip on its head because they were hurt."

"Shit— I'm sorry, Emi. I saw about your contest, do you want me to come over here? I can drop off Denzel in Jubilife after his Gym Battle and come see you. He's been wanting to say sorry, but you won't talk to him."

"Drop him off in Canalave as planned," Emilia said. "But then come here immediately. I'll forgive you for keeping me in the dark about Mira torturing Backlot, but we need to start working on something."

"Wait… just Mira?"

Emilia's hand tightened around her phone. "There was someone else?"

"Fuck."

"You can't hide it, Pauline. I will find out."

"I guess Mira wanted to protect Grace from all of this," Pauline sighed. "She was there, Emi. She cut across both of Backlot's thighs and then watched."

"That's… not as bad as I was expecting. I braced myself for worse than this," Emilia said. "Not as bad as the Haunter stuff, anyway. It's still disturbing, but…"

Emilia imagined the scene for herself. Mira and Grace, standing over Backlot as they watched him die for hours. It was more than disturbing. It was deranged. She couldn't imagine standing next to them again as if nothing had happened.

"Do me a favor and don't mention a word of this to Cece. It's not our place," Pauline said.

"...Yeah. Alright. As long as she learns about it."

"What's done is done, Emi. We can't take it back," Pauline muttered. "But Grace is changing for the better, at least I think she is. She isn't communicating much, but she's started posting on social media again. People are saying she's gone into Eterna to save a bunch of kids, and she's doing therapy…"

"I saw all of that, though now it's entirely recontextualized in my head," Emilia said. "Look, the point is, I need you here, Pauline. And I need your Gothitelle."

"I thought we said we wouldn't stop being friends with the others because of her warning."

"That ship has sailed, Pauline," Emilia said. "Mira left my hotel room not even five minutes ago, but it's not even about her. We all know that they've been hiding something from us. Something that made Gothitelle want you to cut contact. Even Mira said that we'd better stay away from them until the year's over. That 'for your own good' shit Denzel peddled pissed you off more than it did me!"

"I know. I know, it's just… I'm trying to hold everyone together here, Emi."

"Truth is what I'm after."

"...Legendaries, I can't believe I'm doing this. It can work if I tell her to look again, but it'll take some time. Gothitelle can only delve into my and her future, and it's blurry and unreliable. We can't even be sure what we'll see will make any sense. And when she tells us about it, the future changes, so not much will matter."

"Still, we'll know. And it's a start, isn't it?"

Pauline sighed. "Fine."

"Do me a favor and get the others in on this. If we figure something out, we share everything."