~~~ Chapter 51 - Sheer Mountain ~~~

Alder arose from his campsite just outside the eastern desert, sitting along a stream. He'd left his team out of their pokeballs the entire night—he'd frequented the area when he was younger, twenty years ago, when he'd first found his larvesta and caught it. Landorus roamed these lands, and with his grandson camping with him and his star pokemon buried, Alder would not take risks. The pokemon in the area surrounding the desert had grown stronger since he'd been there. Local farmers just north of the desert must have been incidentally providing the pokemon an abundance of food.

Druddigon looked Alder in his eyes, then took a stance, lying next to the boy, watching over, practically nursing the dragon egg that Benga was curled around. Alder had picked up in the ruins, as he investigated the dreamyard, having heard reports of the explosions. When the striaton trio had arrived with Doctor Fennel in tow, he took his recuse, leaving it to them and the company that was running the operation to assess the damages. Holding the draconic egg in his hands as braviary flew them back to camp on that day, he'd made a realization—there was no one to leave his legacy to.

At one point, he'd thought his daughter, Ana, would be a trainer, but she had found the trainer's life not to her liking. Which was fine, Alder had always respected her wishes, as well as Ana's decision to settle down, getting married and having a kid, living in a nice house outside of White Forest. While they had never explicitly said he couldn't come see the boy, Alder had never been explicitly invited to come stay, either.

Over the short number of years, a growing and sneaking suspicion about what they'd wanted for Benga metastasized into a full-blown thought. So Alder had made the difficult, yet deliberate choice to respect their desire to let the kid be. Such were the more recent headwinds for the modern, younger trainers of the recent years. Being a proper skilled trainer took a lot of work and pokemon could occasionally get rough with their partnered humans.

Though it was obvious there was a bit more on the undercurrent than he could put his own finger on. Alder wasn't the kind of man to call the younger generation lazy, but the landscape was changing, and the crunch and taste of the air seemed different from when he was a kid.

Regardless, Alder still knew Benga well, Ana and her husband didn't hide the boy away. Ana and Benga would both come to visit him often in Castelia City, since it wasn't like they were in another region, a train ride or pokemon flight and they could be over even for short weekend hops.

He'd respected his daughter's wishes.

Until a few weeks ago, that was. During their phone calls, Ana had always downplayed Benga's interest in being a trainer. But during vacations, the boy had always been awed by Alder's team—in particular his druddigon and volcarona, had constantly talked about being a trainer or gym leader one day, and said he'd wanted a dragon and volcarona of his own. Somehow, that enthusiasm had magically vanished, over the phone and in the presence of the boy's mom.

So, dragon egg in hand, Alder walked up to their house, while Benga's father was still at work. He stepped up their small little path, onto their porch, and knocked on the door. "Grandpa!" Benga had shouted, as he answered the door, and the light in the boy's eyes and fire on his head practically glowing through the window. That had told the aging leader all he'd needed to know. Alder would, and was—going to ensure Benga knew how to treat pokemon right, not make mistakes that he had made when he was younger—but no amount of warning or pressure from either him or Ana could sway. The boy had said yes, before Alder could even finish the question. Benga's youthful fire relit his own.

The boy's mother had wanted a "better", "less-lonesome" life for the kid, probably listening too much to old country singers. "Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be trainers" and similar trainer-blues. Benga deserved to be given a choice. And when she had come around the corner, to see Benga practically jumping, her own face had shown—Ana knew Benga had wanted to follow his grandfather's footsteps. Though, knowing Ana's trepidation around being a trainer, and the trainer's life, he had smiled when Benga's mother pulled from the closet a set of boxes—a bike, backpack, water filter, general supplies for being a trainer.

He'd dealt with grief before. Alder was no stranger to loss, pain, or struggle. He was at the age where your friends began to disappear, one after another. But losing your best friend to a sickness that had never been seen before? Fate had taken a cruel turn on him, and with Benga's fire? He would not go out. Not without a fight. So, there he was, walking out to the stream, leaving Benga and druddigon resting with the dragon egg.

For Benga, it was a mystery what would hatch, though Alder already knew. He knelt over the stream, scooping some water, rinsing his face. His team would forage and find food for themselves.

Alder returned back to camp, pulling out the morning bell, braviary, bouffalant, escavalier, accelgor all returning from their own morning rituals. He smiled, glancing down at Benga, sleeping on his roll, snoozing the day away. Then banged on the bell as hard as he could.

"Get up, boy!" He shouted, before bursting out into laughter as Benga went from sleeping to standing in the blink of an eye. They were in the lands where he'd first caught his own larvesta twenty years before, and he'd be damned if there weren't still a few nests lying around.

~~~

The scent of iron and salt driften in from the west, hints of it warning, crying for potential dangers. Lyra and Lanky were both asleep when Leaf and I awoke at our usual time, the campfire from the night before, having burned down, not but black surrounded by the brown and gray of the rocks they'd set in a circle. The beautifly, butterfree, and beedrill were already beginning to buzz, looking for their early morning nectar. I took a look over myself. My leafy battle-skirt had a few holes. I'd tanked a bit more than I thought from either the alakazam's explosions, or just scuffed up from my little skirmishing with Meg.

Leaf was already on it, actually. He'd been doting on me since I'd nearly killed him with a solar beam. Should I probably have stopped him from doting on me? Yeah, I probably should have. But you know what? If I was going to continue to be the one front and center in these fights—dreadful though the idea was—I wasn't going to say no. I did still feel a bit empty, without Oust. And well, Meg was a bit too independent for me to really dote on, and I wasn't about to dote on Leaf. So, while Leaf offered me occasional leaves, I realized—the other leavanny and swadloon we'd met the other day was probably nearby.

A branch cracked. Meg's head shot straight up, turning to face the oncomer, who'd arrived from the west, only a few trees to the left of where Leaf and I were resting in our own tree. She brayed, stomping on the ground. Virizion returned the noise, though he was much quieter, breathing hard. The fight he'd been in was bad. He was covered, his fur and face matted in black, he was bleeding, with a few puncture wounds along his side.

Whatever it was that had done this to him, had lost, and he'd managed to drain some life from them, but it hadn't made up for what he'd lost. Despite his almost-broken state, the god stood tall. He'd been victorious, and was returning to the meadow to rest and lick his wounds.

Lanky was already sitting up, rubbing his eyes, before sitting straight up, grabbing the pack that rested at his side on the ground. "Lyra!" he called, not-quite shouting, but loud enough I could hear without issue. He continued talking, and I lost track of everything else he was saying, the rest devolving into the un-mapped gibberish-speak. This area was filled with berries. He didn't look poisoned, but I hopped down from the tree anyway, preparing to search for berries. Lyra unzipped her tent, stepping out, observing it, before practically shouting at Lanky. "Holy Shit," or whatever.

I held my mouth shut, as my vision threatened to go black. I was not going to panic. My mind opted, I was back at the gym, limping from a hard-won fight, limbs crushed and crumpled. I'd been taken to the pokecenter and healed. Then, I was back. I was burned, my antennae and dress burnt to ash, most of my leaves denatured or still smoking. I was back to the pokecenter. I was back on the floor of the gym, I was paralyzed against a yellow tarantula as they bore down on me, covering me in webs, spinning me, restricting my movement.

Lanky had pulled out the spray bottle from the bag, the one he'd used on me, and was approaching the fighter god, who at first seemed about to push him back, before deciding to lie back down and let him approach. My own bodily fluid leaked out of my arm. Back to the pokecenter. I was crushed under the mass of a hulking steelix. Physically, I ventured forth into the buzzing of the beedrill and hum of the butterfree in the background, seeking for more bushes and berries. Body and mind in very different places, I had ventured out. Perhaps becoming the strongest wasn't the best plan.

I'd returned, minutes later, after scrubbing through bush after bush looking for berries, spearing them onto my arms like a kebab, Leaf had taken to following me around again, keeping his eyes on the beedrill—who effectively ignored our presence—without trying to eat my berries, though he couldn't help but picking some of his own off the bushes. I still didn't know which berries were which, but I knew the cherry-like berries were the anti-poison ones, so I only picked one of those.

I chose instead to pick these large, blue ones about the shape of particularly fat clementine or mandarin. The beedrill did draw near, while we were walking back, following the sugar that entered the air, but as I crossed the paths of trail, chunks of red and black strewn about, as if virizion had had to shake the remains of the dead body of his opponent off on his way back into the meadow. The smell of the blood gave even the bees pause. That, or the remains of the strange smell of whatever it was he'd fought.

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I looked back, to the west of the forest, following the trail and drops of red, but I was too short to see far. Wherever the fight had happened, it was far enough we could not hear. I was tempted to see what kind of battle could injure them so, but chose not to follow. If I was going to stay focused on the goal of getting stronger, it would be best not to encourage myself to continue to drift into nightmares, living, dead, real or fictional.

I needed to carry the berries. I needed to return to Lyra and Lanky, back to safety. Leaf stuck close, following behind, as if I was being pursued. Other than the buzzing of the bees, there was no reason to suspect any threats. His attempts to dote on me though? Those, those I could accept without being too critical.

When I arrived at the field, Virizion's bleeding had already stopped, and a few of the holes had filled in. He was still covered in blood, lying down, as Lanky and Lyra were packing up their tent. I walked up to him, and slid every berry off my arm, slightly shrugging as I did.

Lyra paused her efforts watching me, before saying things to Lanky and continuing on with her tasks. Finally, getting the chance to observe the god, I realized—he was a lot shorter and smaller than I thought. Lying down, his head as high as mine. A leaf extended from his body, as he scooped up the small pile of berries and ate them. Without that feeling, the pressure of being judged, he was a lot less intimidating. He didn't vocalize at me. I had a hard time reading humans' faces. Reading virizions? Complete and total lost cause.

The next thought, the one that came to mind—because of course it did, it always did—make something for him? Necklace? Bandages? Leaf-sticker? Each, different designs practically shoved themselves into my head. A star-shaped leaf-sticker, heart-shaped bandage, several leaves strung together in a circle. A shield of leaves. Nothing I could do would help the god, and I still felt bad about beaming him the day or so prior. Ugh, I thought, before getting to work. It was stupid, and it didn't contribute to having a laser-focused goal, but it just felt right. And hyper-focusing on one specific thing just, well, it just didn't feel that right, either.

~~~

A giant bird, shimmering in flames popped out of the ball in Lyras hand, and Leaf and I—we were both already gone, dashing for the treelines, not waiting for anyone to command us. I knew Lyra was strong. I even recognized the smell of her. I even knew the game. It was like meeting the grim reaper. Again. I didn't care whether the phoenix was a symbol of new life or not. Fucking no. I could fight a moth of fire. I could fight a bird. Heck, I could probably fight a bird made of steel. But no way, no how on this really, supernaturally green-and-purple earth, was I ever, ever going to fight a bird of fire.

Lyra laughed as we had run off, away from terror incarnate. I don't care if their feathers shined in the ultraviolet spectrum—they did, and it was very pretty—but I was NOT about to associate with my natural, hated enemy. We ran out into the trees, the shade, under the bushes, hopefully out of sight. Sitting in my hole, I had to push out a pair of hiding, now startled, caterpie. THEY could be fire-bird-food. I… I wasn't about to get close. Lyra had hopped onto the bird's back, as Lanky approached our little hiding spot. He did well to hide himself from that—that thing. That monster.

The bird took off, leaving us. "Leah!" he practically whispered, I think I heard him say "it's okay!" along with some other words, which presumably meant the bird was gone.

The mountain, the damned mountain, had grown a thousand feet higher. I was prepared to climb. I had turned into a sheer cliff, and in one fell swoop, I was immediately defeated. I was not going to fuck around with birds and fire. Nope. No. Fucking. Way.

Was I ever going to let that shit happen to me. Nope. Nope. Nope. The bird took off, immediately heading to the south east, flying low, just skimming the treeline above us, as if they were trying to avoid the main path—which, if I was a legendary demon bird from hell, I would want to avoid too much attention too. I was just glad Lyra didn't have an appetite for bugs. Bugs like me, that was.

Sorry, little caterpie, I thought, watching them try to find a spot under a nearby bush, after glancing into the clearing, spotting the shimmering rainbow lights in the late morning sun, navigating as quickly as they could through the underbrush.

With Lyra and her bird gone, Lanky called my name, and I took a peek out, from the south, I looked to the west- there was nothing. In the center, virizion still sat, resting in the sun. To the north and west, it was clear, save for a few bees that had seemingly caught wind of the berries. Virizion's head was turned toward me—Leaf and I hadn't hidden well. At all. There weren't any fires or anything still blazing, at least, so that was nice. Knowing there were none, I stepped out, joining up with lanky and walking back to virizion's side. He seemed fine. Lanky continued talking, whether to me, leaf, the air above, or to virizion, I knew not.

Having packed up his sleeping roll, he knelt down in the meadow's grass, pulling out several of the paper packets of food. He dumped one onto the ground for Leaf, poured one into my mouth, and then opened the bag, dumping the berries on to the ground in front of virizion, their green-topped, V-shaped head dipping down as the berries seemingly lifted off the ground of their own accord. The menacing, dress-shitting panic and fear and anxiety was not present around this minor deity. I would lose, even then, in their weakened state. But I would probably not die, if I tried to poke the god. Virizion turned his head at me, his eyes staring right into mine.

Lanky was surprised when I walked up to him, virizion staring me down as if I was about to take his food—Leaf could take the basket. I tapped my pokeball on Lanky's waist, sucked in a quick flash, senses immediately dulled as whatever happened to my body happened. It was a tall mountain to climb. I could take the pokeball. And find other gods to poke. Ones who's training regimens would probably be less likely to result in physical death, loss of limbs, et cetera, being eaten by flaming birds.

~~~

So how was the full moon, Cresselia?, I asked the moon goddess. It only made sense to be polite—I was going to be using her realm in order to train, after all.

"It is well, Dreamer" Cresselia said, in her normal, formal tone.

"I must confess," Cresselia added, "if you truly wish to train, my partner would be much more valuable—"

"I'd rather not," I interrupted her.

Though, with her stoic, unchanging expression, she was amused.

"I understand," Cresselia said, "but this path is suboptimal for your go—"

"I said it's fine," I told her, cutting myself off before I said anything I could potentially regret.

"Confronting fears is integral to personal growth and ascension," Cresselia said.

I GET it, CRESSELIA, I said internally—her head tweaked, twisting upside down as she stared into my eyes. This is her world, not mine, I was reminded, as little ripples of pink rose up to my feet, plucking the bottom of my legs. Her head stayed tweaked as she stared at me, her face upside down—was she smiling? Oh shit, she was smiling. And she had fangs.

"I mean," I shivered.

"Child," she said, her head continuing its twist, as her face turned right-side up, the twist in her neck, specs of black boiling up from underneath her.

"Pay my husbands some respect," she demanded. I tried to take a step back as she approached, but whatever was in the pink ocean was holding me in place. "Because—" she said, pausing, her approach, as darkrai emerged from the liquid shadow. He reached his hand out to her, patting her on the back, as she unwound. "I have not the patience for those with your… current disposition. Will you hide away in this world forever, or face your fears?" Calming down in the presence of her… mate.

Darkrai stood in front of us. "Pardon us," he said, not really looking at me or Cresselia. "I apologize, for we are late yet again, my dears. And please, dear Cress, this is the first true company we have had since that celebi."

Lebi was here, I thought. Did I want to pursue them? Did I want to find out more of why Lebi had wanted me to get Dawn killed? Would they even know? And yet, Darkrai had shown up, attempted to save me then. I could at least ask why he'd shown up. Cresselia's neck was fully unwound, though the pink anchoring me into place continued to hold. What if I could enlist their help?

"Dreamer, you do not want our help," Cresselia spoke, nuzzling into the side of the god of nightmares. "We cannot physically help you with what you want. You would die."

Would I, though?

No, that was a bad idea. Cresselia was probably-maybe already upset with me? If I was to challenge her.

"It is true," Darkrai said, "that the chasm between us is one you cannot naturally cross." His body language, such that it was, had turned somewhat, if not entirely, somewhat thoughtful, without moving a single bit, still hugging to the neck of the moon goddess.

"It is also true, however—and we are aware you did not ask this—" Darkrai said, "—you are not within cresselia's realm, but in mine."