Chapter 51: Winter Blues III

Icicles twisted into threads, spiralling towards the void and forming elaborate patterns that glistened like starlight. Whether it was water or some other poor molecule that Articuno commanded to change states, Celeste wasn’t sure. Normal physics didn’t seem to fully apply to legends.

Nor did type charts.

The fire Moltres threw at her brother barely touched the constructs, slowly inching her way. It was beautiful—artistic even—but also deadly. The threads of frost converged, forming an icy cocoon around the bird of fire. Such was its scale that it made the one Celeste and her friends got trapped on seem like a joke.

Had Articuno even been trying to hurt them?

The air shimmered, and a sharp ringing pierced the silence.

An explosion.

Solid to liquid to vapour. Stillness was rejected in moments and the cocoon was gone—vaporised, leaving the two Legendary birds hovering in the air, glancing at one another.

Shit. Was that just their greeting?

Moltres, enveloped in a fiery red aura, surged forward with blinding speed. Her form blurred into a streak of flames and smoke that made the very light around her flicker and warp.

Articuno responded by conjuring countless shards, each one a frozen dagger twirling around him. His movements, though slower than Moltres’, were precise and calculated. His every action was deliberate and his energy never wasted.

He dodged at the very last possible second, leaving a few shards behind. Too committed to her charge, Moltres crashed into them, marring her yellow feathers with streaks of golden blood.

Her eyes blazed with an intense, blood-red fury.

“That was like Stealth Rock, but with ice!” Rey shouted, his voice high-pitched. Powder barked alongside him. Heat Wave, Blizzard, Fire Spin—he kept trying to name some move, and Powder just nodded while eyes glimmered.

In the end, though, moves were just moves. Strategies to simplify the complexities of battle.

Any Pokémon could do more.

And these Pokémon?

Within their own elemental realms, the limit was imagination.

Moltres’ beak glowed a fiery red as she eyed the icy threads snaking towards her with a look of disdain plastered on her face. With a sharp squeak, she made the surrounding air explode into life and took over the wind. Torrents of hot air surged to her, while the ocean below roared in response. From her wings and beak, fire burst forth with a raw, untamed intensity.

Tongue-shaped-flames devoured the ice constructs and lashed against Articuno, melting parts of the shield that circled around his body. He turned to Moltres, his eyes quickly appraising the situation, as he dropped the remains of his barrier and spread his wings. They shimmered with a fresh coat of ice, sharp as steel blades.

Articuno then dived into the flames. The sound of ice slicing through the heated air was almost like a scream: sharp and terrifying.

Celeste half-expected Moltres to also cry out when Articuno cleaved her chest. The sound that escaped her beak was almost like laughter, though. And her blood spilling into the ocean was as sparks over gasoline.

The water burned. The air burned. She burned.

“That’s not how the phoenix is supposed to rise,” Celeste thought, almost amused. But Moltres didn’t give a damn. Rising from the ashes? No time for that. A few cuts were all it took for the bird of fire to bring forth her inferno of flame and ash.

And what an inferno it was.

With the ocean ablaze, fiery twisters swallowed every fragment of ice Articuno created. Every breeze crackled, and every spark exploded. Articuno’s blue plumage was already singed, and the crowning feathers in his head seemed to grapple with embers. And Moltres? She transformed into fire itself, her golden feathers igniting one by one, sealing her wounds in a flaming glow.

With a cry, she lunged at her brother.

Articuno, his eyes narrowing, didn’t stop to consider the options this time. More ice shards materialised, but they melted rapidly under the relentless heat. Cornered, his defences crumbled under a tidal wave of flames, leaving him vulnerable to Moltres’ assault.

She struck with her talons, going for the throat.

Flung aside like a discarded toy, Articuno’s exposed flesh beneath his feathers boiled in the searing heat.

Fire, Celeste realised, was truly the opposite of ice.

If ice was stillness—peace, death, and order, a beauty eternally preserved—then what else would fire be than movement? It was passion, life, and chaos. A sparkle that burned brightly for a moment until it became smoke in the wind.

Giving up? Moltres’ mocking whistle seemed to taunt, echoing through the night.

Articuno arrested his momentum, hanging motionless in midair. There was desperation within him, yet it wasn’t born from the fire. He narrowed his eyes at his sister and his tail cracked the air with a snap, commanding everything to stop.

Poor Moltres, so enamoured with in her inferno, failed to realise that in the deepest circle of hell, it was ice that reigned supreme.

In less than a heartbeat, Articuno reclaimed the winds. Towering waves rose like skyscrapers, morphing into frozen talons that clawed at the bird of fire. They began to strip her of her flames, yet, true to her nature, she blazed on relentlessly.

Moltres blurred through the air, lunging towards Articuno with fury.

He waited. No shards this time.

As she extended a talon, he dodged. When she pursued, he flipped. And when she finally grabbed him, he countered with a peck.

Fire claws on his neck, frozen beak in her wing.

A deadlock.

Moltres’ talon burrowed deeper into the wound in Articuno’s neck, her grip tightening. His feathers, a mix of golden blood and charred blue, flared up. The ice bird, enveloped in phoenix fire, remained still, however.

And of stillness, Articuno was god.

His Blizzard could ravage a continent, but Sheer Cold—when the world was made to stop—was instantly fatal.

Ice crept from Articuno’s beak, spreading across Moltres’ wing. She realised her miscalculation too late, tearing away in a frantic attempt to escape. But the ice had already taken hold, and half her wing was frozen.

With a defeated screech, the Legendary bird of fire could no longer take flight, so she plummeted into the ocean below.

Battered, scorched, bleeding from his neck, Articuno watched as the waters began to boil. In his beak, he held a solitary yellow feather.

Like the phoenix, Moltres would rise again, but the Ice Legend would not be there to watch.

With a low whistle, Articuno declared the battle’s end. It seemed he’d achieved his purpose. With a powerful beat of his wings, he ascended into the night sky and vanished into the darkness.

—*——*—

Celeste’s mind was reeling. She’d just watched a battle between Moltres and Articuno.

That wasn’t something people did. Like ever.

“Fuck.” She brought a hand to her head.

If this was a lot to her, imagine how an actual Ice-type would feel after watching Articuno do the impossible.

“Powder, did you..” she started, but her worlds slipped away into the void.

Her Vulpix was not there, she realised, nor were the others. The sky and the ocean had faded, as had the fire and the ice. Moltres and Articuno were nowhere to be found, and there was just nothingness around.

A chill crept up her fingers, as if the ice from the battle flowed in her veins. With a sense of unease, she flexed her hands, watching them move against the backdrop of the void. Then something else came into focus.

A plaque? Her eyes narrowed. No, a memorial. The same one from the previous vision she had.

Once again, Celeste was in a surreal version of Four Island town—from the little she’d gathered, this one had been rebuilt after some tragedy. Turning back to the memorial, she now focused on the words inscribed on its surface.

Commissioned by Elite Four member Lorelei (…) in honour of the victims of the Icefall Tragedy (…)

“Elite Four?” Celeste murmured. Her thoughts briefly lingered on her friend’s success, but they quickly shifted as her eyes scanned the list of names. Those were the victims, no doubt.

She recognised the very first one.

Adam Stevenson.

This was the friendly officer from the police station, the one who offered her help. She continued down the list, most names unfamiliar, but a few stood out.

Robert White… the mayor.

Rose Jenny… the chief of police.

She kept on reading until…

Olga Silverwind.

Celeste’s hands froze. “N-No,” she choked. “It… It can’t be.”

“What can’t?” Rey’s voice broke through. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows arched. “You’re being weird again.”

Tears threatened to spill from Celeste’s eyes as she glanced between her friend and the memorial… which was no longer there. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly several times and she just… couldn’t.

Then she realised they were standing on a beach. Powder nuzzled against her, eyes still sparkling with excitement from the battle between the legendries. Luan and Rey looked at her with some confusion, while the Munna stared at her with a disapproving glare.

“Well?” Rey pressed.

Celeste blinked, trying to ground herself. The beach they were on was familiar to her. She’d been there with… Olga… after she won the Snowflake Cup. The shrine they had once visited stood nearby, looking newer, devoid of the moss that once clung to its uneven stones. A warm glow emanated from within, and the doorstep was adorned with buckets of herbs as well as clusters of flowers and candles.

“How did we get here?” she finally managed to ask.

Rey shrugged. “Dream logic. One moment we’re in the sky watching Articuno, the next, here.”

Luan nodded, satisfied. “Anyway, like I was saying, Moltres’ feather. I think that’s important.”

“Like I was saying,” Rey muttered. “Don’t care. Articuno isn’t even here. What’s the point?”

Their attention drifted back to the house, its interior obscured and whispers floating out, indecipherable. Luan theorised about Articuno’s perception shaping their reality, but Rey offered something simpler.

“Dream logic,” he said again, his lips almost curling into a smirk.

“Are you going to say that to everything?” Luan fidgeted. “Dreams aren’t supposed to be random, you know?”

“So…” Celeste started again, her voice hesitant.

The haunting image of the memorial and its list of names lingered in her mind. She needed a distraction—any topic but that. How they’d speak to Articuno, the inevitability of death, what she was going to have for lunch when this was all over, the fact she was probably slowly dying of hypothermia while she was stuck in a dream and it was really all her fault for having suggested that, anyway.

Maybe not that last one, though.

“Uh, you wanted to talk about the feather, Luan?” she settled on a topic.

Luan cast a nervous glance at the sky, where dark clouds hinted at a storm. “That battle… was Articuno fighting Moltres just for that feather he got in the end?”

“Why are you encouraging him?” Rey grumbled under his breath.

“I’m just a curious girl…” Celeste lied. And I don’t want to tell you about some vision of your mother’s death. She managed a strained grin, but left that last part unsaid.

Luan, attempting to assert himself, continued, “Like I said, dreams aren’t random. That feather it…it has to mean something.”

“Understanding Articuno might help us actually reach him,” Celeste nodded, maintaining her facade. “It’s definitely better than just shouting ‘Polaris’ over and over again. Though we’ve already figured out Rey is nothing like Oliver.”

“Hey!” Rey protested.

Celeste’s giggle was light, but her eyes were empty. “He’s funny, caring, and completely uh… un-smug. Besides, he’s also—”

Rey’s glare cut her off mid-sentence.

“Right…” she turned back to Luan. “So, what are you thinking?”

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Luan’s brow furrowed. “Articuno’s feather preserves ice, so maybe Moltres’ does something similar to fire? Maybe Moltres’ feather can ignite things? And… I’m not sure how that links back to Oliver and Articuno’s last conversation, but it must, right? One thing led to the other.”

Celeste’s gaze drifted to her hand. Once upon a time, a Golem had thrown a rock at her and she broke her wrist. Then, a few days later, when she was already One Island, she fell into this weird cave—Ember Spa, some weirdo had told her it was called. Where magic water, allegedly filled with ashes gifted from Moltres herself, could heal. Her broken wrist was no longer broken when she left that place.

“Cee!” Luan’s voice snapped her back to reality, his arms waving in front of her face. “You got something?”

“Yeah, I think I understand why Articuno was so desperate for that feather,” she said. “Moltres is known to rise from the ashes, right? What if that’s literal?”

Luan’s eyes widened. “Healing? That’s… a lot more than not letting things melt.”

“Also a lot more useful when your best friend is dying…” Celeste trailed off.

Rey was silent for a moment, but scoffed when eyes turned to him. “Fascinating.” He rolled his eyes. “Can we move on?”

His gaze shifted upwards. Descending towards the old house, Articuno appeared—burned, exhausted, but clutching the yellow feather as if it was the most important thing in the world.

—*——*—

As soon as Articuno’s talons grazed the earth, he began a demanding whistle, directing it towards the house’s door. Ignoring his wounds and burns, his breaths were shallow, almost imperceptible.

Silence only returned when a small woman, her long silver hair flowing on her back, emerged. Her black dress fluttered in the wind and a thin black veil hung from her shoulders. She approached the bird, her steps tentative, stopping just shy of him. Words seemed to escape her; she just blinked rapidly, her eyes reddened and raw.

“He’s too late,” Celeste whispered, averting her own gaze from the scene unfolding ahead.

“For what?” Rey asked, but Celeste offered no answer, burying her face in Powder’s puffy fur instead.

Articuno, stepping closer, lifted his tail towards the woman, releasing a shower of sparkles. “Polaris…” she breathed out, her fingers trembling as they carefully brushed against it.

The bird chirped softly, placing Moltres’ feather in her other hand.

She hesitated, words caught in her throat. “I… I can’t understand you like my father does—did.”

Rey stepped back, shaking his head.

Articuno arched his neck, revealing the deep gashes left by the battle. Pain, if he felt any, was hidden away underneath everything else.

He nudged the feather in the woman’s hands, pointing back to her house. There was urgency in him.

“I’m sorry…” she tried to hold him back, her voice faltering.

The healing feather slipped from her grasp, dancing in the wind before settling on the ground. The legendary bird paused, then moved towards it once more.

“Polaris, please…” Her hand reached out, stopping him. She glanced back at the house, tears brimming. “You need to know… my father, he…”

Articuno lifted his gaze slowly.

“He went… peacefully, in his sleep,” she managed, her voice breaking.

Articuno stood still. No winds howled, no snow fell, and no tears came.

But when he finally shrieked, it poured.

—*——*—

—*——*—

—*——*—

Celeste’s face was still hidden in Powder’s fur, but she could see Rey, motionless as Articuno. Words failed her.

Oliver had died hundreds of years in the past. She never met him. Yet, it hurt.

It was Luan who talked first, his words small and hushed. “This is our chance,” he said.

Celeste turned to him and blinked.

“This is our chance!” he repeated, high-pitched, desperate. “We needed to talk to Articuno, but without Oliver around, right? Rey can talk to him now.”

Rey said nothing.

“You want to do that now?” Celeste felt a knot tighten in her stomach. “Luan, that’s…” she paused, her gaze flickered to the Munna limply holding on to his arms. “…that’s wrong.”

Luan’s wide grey eyes met hers. There was an intensity there Celeste wasn’t used to. “This is his nightmare, Cee. We can transform it, make the bad good. If Rey pretends to be Oliver, then Articuno gets its happy ending.”

She pursed her lips. There was logic there, kindness even. “It’s still wrong…”

“I’ll do it.”

She turned to Rey. Stoic, pale, tired.

He shrugged, as if nothing could affect him. “I can be the person Polaris wants me to be,” he said and, just as quickly, began moving. His steps, however, were reluctant.

Rain plastered his hair to his forehead as he attempted Oliver’s smile.

“H-Hey, Polaris,” he greeted. The Legendary bird finally looked at him. “I’m here… old friend.”

Luan nervously shifted on his feet, and the Munna let his trunk swing.

Wrongness, Rev had told her. If she was wrongness, that meant there was something right somewhere.

Celeste closed her eyes. The visions, the Vanillite… it all felt like… a pull for things to be as they should. Oliver, Polaris, and Lite—that was how the memories were meant to be. And if Articuno had control over them, then it meant he was erasing Lite from his mind on purpose.

Her chest tightened. Mist, purple and blue like an aurora, swirled at her feet, unnoticed by the others. Rey raised a trembling hand, his voice faltering.

“Just… say something,” Luan urged in a whisper. “A joke, anything.”

This wouldn’t work. It shouldn’t work. Rey was… Rey, and not Oliver. Not every nightmare needs to turn into a dream, and not every bad or painful memory should be stored away.

“Rey,” she began, her voice begging for him to reconsider. He didn’t hear her, though. His focus was entirely on the bird before him.

The mist thickened.

Celeste’s mind raced back to Vanillite, who still didn’t make sense. Why forget him?

She thought about how he was always by Olga’s side, and she went back to all that happened in the caves earlier. Vanillite had spent the day protectively hovering by Rey and he was fierce in battling the poacher’s Pokémon. But… ever since Articuno began rampaging, he’d been absent.

She closed her eyes, reaching out with her heart.

“What really happened to you?” Celeste asked.

And, to her surprise, Articuno listened.

—*——*—

Everyone else vanished in a blink, and Celeste stood alone under the dancing lights of an aurora.

“I do not understand you,” came a voice, as crisp as winter’s air. Large eyes framed by the shadow of Articuno, glimmered like twin stars, sending shivers down her spine. “I sense a danger about you, yet your heart harbours no malice.”

She swallowed hard; her gaze wandering around the vast nothingness.

“I-I’m confused too,” Celeste whispered.

The eyes blinked, and the bird’s shadow disappeared. A human figure emerged in its place.

He bore a resemblance to Rey, or perhaps Oliver, but his eyes—grey rather than green—were like the glaciers that had stood on top of the world through the aeons. His stride was stiff, and his stance noble, almost divine, although also somewhat wary.

He regarded Celeste with an unreadable expression.

“Your nightmares intrude upon my dreams,” he stated, his voice echoing all around her. “I grow tired of it.”

Celeste stumbled back. Her feet failing to find solid ground, tripped, and she fell into invisible floor.

“You are afraid,” the one before her observed calmly. “Do you not realise that those who seek peace find sanctuary in my domain?”

“Art—” Her voice faltered. “Am I… welcome here?”

He tilted his head slightly, a gesture unnervingly human. “What do you believe?”

“That me and my friends are dying, and even if we wake up, we’ll still be dying unless you stop attacking us.”

She braced herself for his reaction, but he merely nodded. “Your friends and the Pokémon with you can stand my cold. The young Vulpix, especially, she radiates strong elemental essence.” He stepped closer. “But be at ease. I would never harm a descendant of Oliver, and the other human… he is of little consequence.”

Celeste peeked through her lashes at the entity towering before her. The cold was unbearable, and her courage flickered. She wanted to confront him about Vanillite, about the fact that she still didn’t feel at ease and about every other crazy thing that was happening.

“Luan matters,” she said instead.

Articuno, or the man he chose to embody, arched an eyebrow, a gesture uncannily similar to Rey’s. “The boy is like the moon, reflecting what is cast upon him, but with no light of his own. You avoid the questions that truly haunt you.”

He extended a hand, and Celeste took it, feeling the frost from his fingers. Yet there was a gentleness in his touch. He pulled her to her feet, and she found herself unable to release her grip. Standing before him, she felt like she was clinging to the hands of a mountain. It was incredible, terrifying, but above all, impossible.

“Am I dying?” she asked, finally.

“Yes,” he replied.

“You’re killing me.”

“I am.”

Her grip tightened, and she met his gaze with a faint smile. “I… I really like living, you know?”

“I can see that,” Articuno returned her smile. “But there is a danger about you, a disharmony, a… wrongness I sensed even before your nightmares invaded my dreams.”

She blinked.

Again was this talk of wrongness.

Her lips quivered, but she felt bolder. “You mean the dreams where you tried to forget your friend? How am I the wrong one?”

His eyes narrowed, his grip on her wrists firming. “Should I not shape my dreams as I wish?”

“And what is that you wish for?” she pressed.

“Peace, order…”

“Lies?”

He tilted his head, more like a bird this time. “And who are you to define truth, human?”

“Do you actually want Rey to be Oliver?”

“That… would bring me peace.”

“Your friend is gone,” she said softly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “He’s been gone for a long, long time. Your dreams, this sanctuary you built… even the whispers I keep hearing, If you come, come in peace. I thought they were a tribute to Oliver.”

“They are,” he conceded, releasing her wrist. Yet she clung to him. “But each year, his absence brings out a storm in my heart. I yearn for him, even if I know he is no longer of this world. That is not peace.”

“No,” she agreed, her fingers intertwining with his. “That sounds like love, though. It’s a little sad, but it’s also beautiful.”

His gaze met hers again, still steady but now tinged with something else. “Outside this dream, you’re succumbing to the cold. Why do you not beg for my mercy?”

Celeste let go of his hand and sighed, carefully stepping back. If she was dying, then she wanted to think about anything but that. To the end, she’d distracted herself from all that was too hard to face.

Her eyes traced the purple lights waving above, and the veil of blue that wrapped itself around it. Maybe she should simply use the time she had left to focus on what mattered.

“Why did you let us into your dreams?” Celeste asked after a pause. The Legendary hesitated, seemingly taken aback by her question.

“Vanillite,” he finally answered.

“You could have erased him from your memory without us being here, though.”

Articuno shook his head, and the scenery around them shifted dramatically. They were suddenly amidst the clouds, and the blue bird of legend was soaring before them. His body still had several darts protruding from it.

“We’re back to when Ryder first attacked you?” Celeste asked, and, without a word, the human form by her side pointed to the ground below.

The Lapras, still drugged then, shot a powerful Ice Beam at Ryder, and she could see a glint of satisfaction in the bird’s eyes before his gaze then shifted to the other humans in his territory: Luan, hiding nervously, and Celeste and Rey, lying unconscious not too far from each other.

As the darts stuck in Articuno’s flesh froze and shattered, the sky darkened. That was when Vanillite came to him.

Despite the storm brewing, there was a bond when the two spoke. They were cordial at first, friends who haven’t met in a while discovering each other again. Instead of settling out into old familiarity, their voices raised, as did the winds.

“I resented the intrusion of this… poacher,” Articuno admitted. “Yet, my anger was deeper because Vanillite never brought young Silverwind here. He resembled Oliver so closely… I thought I had found the solace I sought.”

Celeste watched the small, Ice-cone-shaped Pokémon challenge the mighty Articuno with an Ice Shard that looked… big, when she thought of the Gloom he’d fought earlier, but tiny, if she thought of the battle Articuno and Moltres had.

“Lite disagreed with you…” she whispered. “To him, Rey is just Rey.”

Articuno gazed down at the Ice-Type, a mixture of displeasure and regret in his eyes. The ice bird’s retaliatory Ice Beam sent Lite crashing against the encircling icy walls. In a blur of movement, driven perhaps by residual effects of the drugs in those darts, Articuno sealed Vanillite into some ice before flinging him into a cavern and causing an entrance to collapse on him.

Realisation dawned in Articuno as he widened his eyes. Anger, shame, guilt. The blizzard outside intensified as the Legendary shot a blinding ray of blue energy into the sky.

“I lost control,” he confessed, the memory fading back to the aurora-lit void. “And when the boy called out to me as Oliver would have, I felt justified. Vanillite was wrong. And when he entered my dreams, I saw it as a chance to shape him into the Oliver I remembered.”

“There was never an Oliver without Lite though…” Celeste’s gaze was unwavering.

“They were inseparable.”

“You left him buried under those rocks?” she asked, her voice steady.

“He would not survive. I did not want to see what was left of him.”

She stepped closer. “He’s strong.”

“I am stronger.”

“Clearly not.”

Articuno’s eyes widened, making Celeste feel number and colder. “You are testing your fate, human.”

“What fate?” she trembled. “You’ve already told me I’m dying. What else can you do?”

“You have people you care for,” he retorted, his chest swelling in a manner reminiscent of Rey.

“I care for Rey, being true to himself. And for Vanillite, who’s tougher than you think.”

Articuno frowned, exhaled sharply, and turned away.

“Why must you be so perplexing?” he said.

“It’s simple, really,” Celeste murmured. “I’m fighting for my friends. And deep down, I know you want to do the same. Go, help Lite.”

“That wasn’t my point,” he said, glancing back at her. “You’re a good person. Why does this wrongness cling to you?”

“I’m dying… so…” she smirked, trailing off. “I guess we’ll never know.”

Articuno straightened. “Begging for your life, at last?”

“Would it change anything?”

“It would diminish my respect for you,” he said, turning to leave.

“Wait, you have respect for me?” she reached out, but in an instant, the human form of Articuno vanished, replaced by Rey’s hand in hers.

—*——*—

Rey blinked at her with his bright, yet uncertain, green eyes. It was as if she had never left him, Luan, and Powder.

“What’s happening?” he muttered. Articuno watched them with a curious, almost amused gaze, while Luan’s anxiety seemed to escalate.

“You are Rey,” Celeste began softly, “Rey Sil-ver-wind. And you kept telling me you were going to be a big deal.” She released his hand, her grin widening as she turned to Articuno. “I figured you’d shout that to Legends and Gods if you had the opportunity.”

He scoffed. “You are fucking right, I would.”

“Celeste!” Luan called out in another panicky fit, as Rey squinted at Articuno, who seemed to be suppressing a laugh.

“Did I miss something?” Rey frowned.

A hush fell over them as Articuno stepped forward and gently brushed his beak across Rey’s face.

“Nice to meet you, Rey.”

No words were uttered and yet, as the pink mist of dreams began to rise again, they all knew there were no more storms raging in Articuno’s heart.

Rey blinked. “N-Nice to meet you too, Polaris,” he replied, awkwardly patting the crown of feathers atop the legendary’s head.

If her friend said anything else, Celeste couldn’t hear it. He was the first to vanish into the mist. Luan and his Munna soon followed.

Powder barked softly at her feet, looking around in confusion.

“It’s okay,” Celeste lied, embracing her Pokémon. “I think we’re waking up. It’s… over.”

She buried her face in Powder’s fur, feeling a cold lick on her fingers.

“Once Pat and Aria get back from the centre, you’ll have fun in the snow,” she murmured. “Making snowmen is the best, you know. You’ll love it.”

The little Vulpix nuzzled her affectionately. Then she, too, disappeared into the mist.

Left alone in the fading pinkness, Celeste watched as it slowly dissolved into darkness. She drew in a deep breath, no longer able to avoid facing the reality awaiting her.

The air was crispy, and her body felt numb.

“If you go, go in peace,” she whispered to herself, a faint smile also fading into nothingness.

—*——*—

Celeste blinked.

And then she blinked again.

And again.

Her eyes gradually adjusting to the bright light that enveloped her.

She felt warm.

The lights were white, she noticed, and the roof was white too.

And it was so warm… was this… heaven? She imagined a flying Bidoof with angel wings circling her.

There was a beeping. Rhythmic like a heartbeat.

Celeste blinked again.

Turning her head, with eyes a little more adjusted, she noticed an IV line attached to her arm.

“She’s awake!” came a familiar voice.

To her side, Delia was there, smoothing out what appeared to be a heated blanket. There was relief on her face.

“You took your time,” Olga remarked, standing beside Delia. Dark circles underlined her tired eyes.

A wave of panic surged through Celeste. Oh, no, she began stirring. No, no, no. No!

“Cee, calm down!” Delia’s hands were on her shoulders, gently but firmly keeping her in place. “You need to rest. The doctors said you were in pretty bad shape when they brought you in yesterday.”

“Yesterday…?” Celeste’s voice was raspy, her throat dry. Losing a day was one thing, but… “Lite? Where’s Lite?”

Olga raised an eyebrow. “Not desperately asking about your own Pokémon?”

Celeste tried to sit up, her mind racing. Her Pokémon had to be okay. What had she missed?

“Relax, kid. They’re fine,” Olga said, shrugging. “The boys took them to play in the snow. We figured they’d enjoy the ice sculptures.”

Celeste’s confusion deepened.

“… the ice sculptures?”

—*——*—

Olga pushed open the door to the hospital’s backyard, and Celeste, IV pole in tow, stepped into the sunlight. The world outside was vibrant and alive; children and Pokémon laughed in the melting snow, making snowmen and dodging snowballs.

A frazzled nurse, laden with a tray of hot chocolate, fussed over the children. “Being in a hospital doesn’t make you immune to colds—” she protested, her words cut short as an Eevee dashed by her, followed closely by an ice Vulpix. A Slowpoke lumbered behind, completely unconcerned to the nurse’s frustrated mutterings.

Celeste’s heart leaped when her Pokémon jumped on her. Their warmth was the best kind of medicine in the world.

The IV pole clattered to the ground, unnoticed.

The nurse approached, a scolding on the tip of her tongue, but Olga’s gruff cut her short. Before she could say anything else, she found herself competing with the loud voices of two other boys.

Luan and Rey, with coats draped over their hospital gowns, looked well, all things considered.

“Cee, it’s warm again!” Luan beamed, his Munna circling him warily, still eyeing Celeste with a hint of distrust.

Rey, unapologetically himself, raked his hair back. “Of course it is. We saved the day—me and Luan. Mostly me. Little Celeste here just slept through everything.”

Under his smirk, there was a genuine smile. He offered her a hand, and his fingers were warm. In the background, Capsakid and the other Pokémon were having some sort of snowball fight. Rey’s team seemed too serious about it.

As Celeste stood, Powder tugged at her trousers while Aria nudged her leg. The nurse chided them for the commotion, but assisted them to the edge of the yard.

Rey’s smile broadened as they reached the spot, the nurse still chattering. “The oddest thing happened overnight…”

Celeste’s breath caught in her throat.

Before them stood an ice sculpture, the best one she ever saw. A Lapras stood at the centre with a Vulpix perched on his head. Flanking them were two Jynx, one cradling a Snom, the other a Capsakid. Above, a Hoothoot, Munna, and Lunatone seemed to glide in frozen flight, and at the heart of it all, a Vanillite with an adorably furrowed brow.

Beside the sculpture, the real Lite mirrored the frown on his icy counterpart. There was a crack marring his lower body, but he was there. Alive and well.

His face lit up when he saw Celeste.

“…and you know what’s more?” the nurse continued, obliviously. “This sculpture still hasn’t melted a single drop!”