Chapter 76 - A gentle touch
By the time Celeste finally stopped, Giovanni’s mansion had shrunk to a speck in the distance, and the sun had crept higher into the sky. She wanted to keep moving, but the path ended at a rock wall, half-submerged by the rising tide and slick with moss. To her right, a narrow trail led to a hotel. Exactly the sort of place Jude, or whatever, might be. Celeste wasn’t about to take that risk.
“So… up the wall it is,” she muttered to herself.
Her whole, very sleep-deprived body screamed in protest at the idea. Trying to climb anything now would be reckless, even for her. But what was one more bad idea on this shitshow? She just needed to keep moving, to push forward, and not think about… any of it. That’s the program here in Cinnabar, isn’t it?
Celeste's fingers scraped against the rough rock as she forced herself upward. Hand, foot, another hand. The movements were stiff and somewhat clumsy, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care for the rocks scraping her hands, and she didn’t care for the friends she’d left in a stranger’s house. Because really, that was for the best. Ariana could be right—she might’ve caught the eye of some monster, and wherever she was, she would just put others in danger. She shook off the thought. If a monster was on her tail, the only option was to keep moving, to stay ahead. Celeste reached for the next handhold, and—slipped. The world tilted violently as she tumbled backward, landing hard in the sand. The soft grains did little to soften her frustration.
She dragged herself upright and grabbed the rock again. Hand, foot, push. So sleepy—and down she went, her body simply refusing to cooperate. But she couldn’t afford to stop. Monsters and all. Celeste stood up again. And grabbed the rock again. Her foot slipped before she could even push this time, and she tumbled back to the ground. Again.
“Come on, come on,” she groaned, gripping the rock tighter as if that would make some difference. Foot, push, grab—
Water Gun?!
A gentle stream of water splashed against her back. She… actually didn’t need to turn around to know where it came from. Ignoring it, she secured her grip on the boulder, only for the water to hit her hand with enough force to make her lose hold of it.
“Seriously, Pat?” She spun around, glaring at her Slowpoke as he waddled through the sand, looking entirely too pleased with what he just did. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll call you back and out again when I get up there, okay? But right now, I need you to…” She didn’t even finish, turning back to the wall with a determined huff. But before she could make a move, another blast of water slammed into her, more insistent this time.
Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he understand they needed to move, and fast? Just this once.
Celeste grabbed his pokéball, ready to recall him. She didn’t want to be alone, but if he was going to be difficult—
Pat hit the ball with another well-aimed Water Gun, sending it clattering against the rock before rolling to a stop between them. All Celeste could do was to stare back at him. What her Slowpoke was even trying to accomplish at this point? She had no idea. She couldn’t understand him after all.
They were out of sync. Just like Bruno had said, “You are never getting an Own Tempo Slowpoke into your own rhythm.”
Pat moved at his own slow pace, strolling over to the pokéball as if they had all the time in the world. He stopped just by it, and Celeste sighed, squatting down to meet him at eye level. “Are you getting in?” she asked, forcing herself not to groan when he languidly blinked at her.
This was so frus—actually… it was kind of familiar. A rocky beach, a pokéball between them. They’d been here before.
Celeste blinked. Or maybe she was just so exhausted that her eyes stayed closed a moment too long. When she did, the memory came rushing back. She’d just dragged herself out of the water, holding an empty pokéball, terrified she’d lost Aria after a Tentacool attacked her. Of course, Aria’s ball had washed ashore before she did, and when she noticed it, Celeste had tossed the empty one aside to check on her Eevee. She’d been crying, clutching Aria to her chest when Pat showed up and she caught him.
…
Except… she hadn’t caught him.
He’d walked towards her, looked her right in the eyes, and entered that empty pokéball all by himself.
Celeste blinked her eyes open, her gaze meeting Pat’s. His was the same steady look he’d given her that day on that other beach.
“Why did you come with me?” Celeste’s voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the wind. This time, she actually waited for an answer. But Pat… he just blinked. Once, then again a few more times. “Come on… Just… talk to me. I know you can. Please, talk to me…”
Another blink, but this time, Pat’s eyes didn’t open back—they clenched shut, tighter than before. Both Pat and the pokéball on the ground began to glow, a soft, pinkish light that shimmered with the familiar hues of psychic energy, yet it also seemed to pulse with something uniquely… Pat. The ball wobbled, unsteady, as it lifted into the air. Whether it was the light or something unseen that guided it, Celeste couldn’t tell. It hovered for a moment, then gently settled into her open palm.
She could only stare at it, stunned.
They’d been training for ages, but except for real life-or-death moments—like when they’d fought Ryder and Team Rocket—he’d never managed more than a slight nudge on a pebble.
“I… really don’t get it…” She sighed. And they didn’t have time for this. “I love that you’re getting stronger, bud, but… Listen, Pat, I don’t know how much you understand about what’s happening, but we’ve got to move. Nurse Joy… She might already be on our trail. We can’t stay here, we need to keep going and—”
Before she could finish, another jet of water splashed across her face, cutting her off.
“Pat!” Celeste threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m trying here, okay? To understand you, to be patient. But you… I… I just don’t get it, and I don’t know how to if you won’t talk to me. Talk to me. For real. Or just get in the ball so we can get going.”
Pat said nothing.
Because of course he didn’t.
He just stared at her, as if he was making some sort of statement. Why wouldn’t he talk to her? He’d done so last night. He told her they should rush then. Why wasn’t he rushing now? Was this his Own Tempo ability? Does sticking to your own tempo means ignoring everyone else’s needs to move at his infuriatingly slow pace all the time? Celeste’s grip tightened around the pokéball, and she pointed it at him, her thumb hovering over the recall button.
“We don’t have time for a one-sided conversation.” Her hand trembled, her resolve wavering as she looked into his eyes—eyes full of love and trust. It made pushing the button feel impossible. “Look, I-I’ll let you out again once we’re safe. I…” Her voice faltered…
They had no time!
Celeste squeezed her eyes together, that memory from the beach flashing behind her lids once more. The sand. The rocks. The pain from Tentacool’s sting. Aria in her arms. Pat approaching, holding her pokéball in his tail. He’d seen her then—broken, crying, afraid—and in that moment, he’d chosen her.
Why?
She clenched her eyes tighter. She was a mess now, too. Probably worse than that first day. Yet… he was still by her side.
Why me, Pat? Was I just the first trainer you saw? Or did you see something in me?
“…needed help…”
Celeste’s eyes snapped open. It was Pat who had shut his eyes now, and the faint psychic energy around him came back, wavering around him as his breaths quickened.
“…wanted to help….” he said in her mind. “I… here to help…”
When Pat opened his eyes again, Celeste still had the pokéball pointed at him, but her own words had died in her throat.
“You’re full of surprises today…” she eventually managed to say, letting out a long, exhausted breath as she put the pokéball away. Pat was trembling, panting, when she reached for his muzzle and cooped it in her hands. She’d pushed him to this. “Talking… it doesn’t come easy to you, does it?”
He looked away, a little sad, or maybe embarrassed.
“Every time I heard your voice before, I got so caught up in the excitement… amazed that we could actually talk with words. But I guess I never really stopped to listen beyond the words, did I? Never took the time to really see you.” Celeste’s hands moved gently to stroke her Pokémon’s head. “It’s not your Own Tempo or because you’re a Slowpoke that we’ve been out of sync, is it?” Her voice grew softer, the realisation settling in. It was she who kept trying to set a beat… “Though… Own Tempo, it’s a pretty special ability. Never confused, never intimidated. You don’t follow any path unless you want it. Not even this island can mess with you.” She looked away, the pieces in her mind slowly connecting. “Anyway… I’m sorry. I think I started to figure this out last night, but with everything that’s happened, I never took the time to stop and—Urgh. That’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t know how to stop, slow down, and just… shut up.”
Pat edged closer, placing his front hooves on her knees and gazing into her eyes. She paused, caught in the moment.
And then he yawned.
Not the move—just a regular, sleepy yawn. And somehow, it was the most infectious yawn she’d ever seen. Celeste fought the urge to yawn back, averting her eyes to the rock wall she’d been so determined to climb. It was slippery with moss and threatened by the dangerous tides. She’d no doubt drown if she slipped.
She turned back to Pat with a sigh. He smiled at her, wide and toothy, full of love.
From the beginning, he wanted to help. To stop her from doing something stupid.
No… it was more than that.
He wanted her to slow down. To try his tempo for once.
Celeste finally gave in and yawned back at him. “How long do you think we can crash at that hotel without catching anyone’s attention?”
—*——*—
Celeste dreamt of eyes lurking in the shadows. And for once, she actually remembered it when she awoke in that dreary hotel room.
The room was grimy, messy, but she’d expected that. When she slipped in through the back of the hotel, she’d spotted an abandoned room service cart by an open door on the ground floor—that felt like an opportunity she shouldn’t miss. Grabbing Pat, she slipped inside, quickly hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, and locked it tight. She yanked the curtains shut, sealed the windows, and plunged the room into darkness. But the blackness did little to steady the frantic beat of her heart. Pat nudged her, probably trying to remind her they were there to rest, to gather themselves—and also that she needed to breathe. The truth was, if something was hunting them, no locked door or drawn curtain would keep it out.
But running on empty wouldn’t help either.
Celeste had plopped down onto the unmade bed, still too wired to sleep, yet too exhausted to stay awake. She knew she needed to slow down. Truly. But it wasn’t in her nature, and especially not now. In the end, she’d had to beg Pat to use Yawn on her, the actual move, just to make sure she’d drift off.
And so, she dreamt of those eyes in the shadows and woke up in the same dark room, her pulse quickening as she fixated on each corner, wondering what might be watching them. But except for Pat’s deep, rhythmic breathing, nothing moved. A harsh beam of afternoon light slashed through a crack in the drapes, and a dusty bedside clock read 3 PM. Celeste felt hot, hungry, and gross. Now that she’d finally stopped moving, she could smell the stale beer on her shirt and see the neon paint splattered on her forearms. The beach party had been only hours ago, after all.
Careful not to wake her Pokémon, she slipped out of bed and headed for the minibar. It was a mixed bag—some fruits and berries, a few energy bars, and overpriced Poffins. A chocolate bar and a bag of crisps sat on top of the fridge, but an open can of soda inside made her cringe. Apparently, cleanliness only mattered where the eyes could see.
She glanced at the messy room again.
If this was messy… did it mean they hadn’t seen it? She was grasping at straws, but maybe this was safe… for now.
After a much-needed shower (surprisingly, the bathroom wasn’t as awful as she’d feared) Celeste gathered all the food she could find and laid it out on the bed beside her dear Slowpoke. With her head a bit clearer, she could fully appreciate how he’d saved her life. There was no way she could’ve climbed those rocks earlier. He deserved a feast, a celebration, a million naps with endless cuddles. For now, she hoped he’d settle for Poffins and chilly corn crisps. She’d stash the leftovers in her backpack for when things got bad again and a hundred percent not think about the fact she was flat out stealing from this hotel.
“Bud,” she murmured, gently rubbing Pat’s back. “Time to wake up. We gotta figure out our next move.”
Her Slowpoke slowly blinked awake, then lumbered over to the food. It was hard for Celeste to just sit there doing nothing as she watched him deliberate between the Poffin and the crisps. Especially when she knew he’d go for the crisps—he always did. But she wasn’t about to undo their progress by rushing him now. She forced herself into a semblance of calm, trying to be patient. Unlike her previous attempts on that, though, she was mindful this time around. Mindful of him. As she watched him eat, she resisted the urge to distract herself with something else, instead focusing on how his eyes widened at the peppery snack and how he hurried to get water. It was always funny to watch. In the end, he devoured the entire bag of crisps and the Poffins too, and even made sure Celeste had some fruit in the meantime.
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Only when he was finished did Celeste move to the window to peek outside.
The room had a decent view of the pool area. As always, people were laughing, splashing around, like the world was free of any problem whatsoever. Jude was there, obviously. He was serving drinks and food, while some bartender was having the time of his life performing tricks with cups and fire.
“We’re gonna get caught if we stay here too long,” Celeste sighed. “I’ve thought long and hard about it, Pat… And the way forward… is to get some help.”
The Slowpoke looked up at her and tilted his head.
“Alright, listen up. Option one,” Celeste began, trying to steady her voice. “We go back and try to convince Ariana to take us to the other people she mentioned…” She glanced out the window as if she could somehow still see Giovanni’s mansion from there. “I don’t know if anything’s actually following us, but I doubt Ariana’s still there either way. And I guess it’s bad to risk the others.”
She took a breath and raised two fingers.
“Option two: we find these people Ariana talked about—the ones who aren’t affected by this place like us. You think we can track them down on our own?”
Pat just stared, his usual blank expression giving nothing away. Like always. But Celeste tried to read more into his body language this time around—the droopy ears and the uneasy swish of his tail.
“Yeah…” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “Wandering around aimlessly is probably a bad call. But we might have to do it anyway…” Her eyes flicked to the corner where her backpack sat, and for a moment she thought of the jumble of items inside—Protect TM from the Snowflake Cup, the incenses, Aria’s unused Thunder Stone, the collars she still had to take to Cinnabar Labs. She’d feel a whole lot better about going out there with only Pat if he knew Protect, but staying here long enough for him to figure it out…? That was pushing their luck way too far. She hesitated before turning back to her Pokémon. “Option three, then…” Celeste began.
Part of her wanted to avoid this, even now, but she slowly approached the bedside table and switched on the lamp. The soft glow fell across her face as she crouched down, lowering herself to the ground.
Toward where her shadow stretched out from her feet.
“Pat, come here…” she called. Just in case this thing wasn’t as friendly as she hoped.
Pat shuffled closer, clearly confused. He hadn’t seen her shadow move on its own before, so yeah… Celeste might seem mad right now.
“Did you hear what Ariana said back at the mansion?” she asked, her voice low. Pat just blinked at her, clueless. “There’s some kind of psychic messing with Cinnabar, but certain types of Pokémon aren’t affected, and so do people near them. Thing is… psychic isn’t one of those types. And water is not either.”
Pat tilted his head, his confusion deepening
“The more I think about it, the more I’m sure your Own Tempo is what’s protecting you.”
It was kind of cute, the way her Slowpoke was almost frowning.
“It keeps your mind free from outside influence, right? You can’t be intimidated, you can’t be forced to be anything but yourself. So this place can’t mess with you either. But… I don’t think that’s what’s protecting me…” Celeste continued, her gaze fixed on the shadow that extended from her feet. “Against a psychic, three types have some sort of resistance. You’re psychic yourself, so you know this well—Ghost, Dark, and Bug.”
She took another deep breath, pointing to her shadow. “There is something else protecting me. There’s… this…” She hesitated, not wanting to mess up her next words. “Back when Four Island’s prison caught fire, something in my shadow helped me escape. It opened the door for me. And since we got here, it’s been trying to keep me away from the people who aren’t people. From Jude, Jenny, Joy… and from the eyes that keep watching us. I wouldn’t have escaped Nurse Joy last night without its help… and I never even stopped to thank it properly.”
By the time she finished, Pat was squinting at the shadow, clearly uneasy. But when he looked back at her, Celeste realised the concern in his eyes wasn’t for the shadow—it was for her. Her sanity, maybe? A psychic like Pat should be able to sense a ghost, but from the looks of it, he sensed nothing. Just like the Noctowl at Four Island P.D. hadn’t sensed it with Foresight.
What kind of ghost was this?
“It’s good at hiding, I guess…” Celeste muttered. “But follow my lead on this one, ‘kay?” She grabbed a leftover berry from the bed and placed it on top of her shadow. “I should’ve thanked you…” she began, trying not to feel self-conscious about talking to her own shadow. “I want to thank you. For saving me. Again… Uh… I also wanna talk? About… you?”
Why was she so bad at this?
Celeste poked the berry, resisting the urge to bang her head against the bed frame. Then she let out a nervous giggle. “I-it’s nothing bad… I’m not being a creep… I hope…” She steadied herself. “I don’t want to bother you or cross any boundaries or… or something…” Though honestly, latching onto someone’s shadow was a pretty big boundary violation, asking a few questions is not even making it even. “It’s just… about coordination! Yeah, coordination, right, Pat?”
Pat’s stare was deadpan. Yesterday, she might have tried to convince herself she was just imagining things. But she wasn’t. She knew that now, and she was done questioning her reality, no matter how bizarre it was.
“I’ve been ignoring your warnings since we got to Cinnabar,” Celeste said, her voice softening. “Pretending you weren’t there. But we’re going out again soon, and I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to ignore you—or anything else—anymore. I don’t know if we can face things out there on our own… and I don’t really know if we can face even if you’re with us, either. But… but I like our chances better together. So… hmm… I also think… I like you? I mean, I don’t really know you, but… I’d like to. I’d like to be your friend. Can… we be friends?”
Her heart was pounding by the time she finished. And she wanted to bang her head on the bed frame even harder now. She smiled instead.
“I’m Celeste. Or Cee. Sometimes Celly.” She extended her hand towards her shadow, watching it mirror her movements, just as physics dictated. She was about to ramble more, but a look from Pat made her stop.
Celeste didn’t think he believed there was something there. But Pat believed in her, and that was him helping her figure this out.
Food for thought, huh?
Talking to Aria had always been easy. Aria would always make herself understood, after all. Loud, sometimes mean, but never waiting for things to click—If you didn’t get what she meant, the Eevee would just keep getting louder and more forceful. Powder was easy too. Her little Vulpix had hatched in her arms, knowing nothing but Celeste’s language from the moment she opened her eyes. Well, hers and Aria’s. If Celeste didn’t understand what Powder needed, Aria would jump in and make sure she did.
It was no wonder she struggled with Pat. He took his time, needed patience. He required her to truly slow down. Not just pretend to while her mind raced a mile a minute. She’d just learned this, and here she was, not giving another Pokémon the chance to process everything at their own pace.
Celeste took a deep breath and pulled Pat into her lap, gently petting him.
“Take your time,” she told her motionless shadow. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
—*——*—-
It really took its time.
The clock ticked toward 5PM, and just as Celeste was about to give up, the berry on the floor rolled back to her feet. Pat jolted upright, water already pooling in his mouth for a Water Gun, but Celeste held him back. Her eyes were locked on the subtle movements of her shadow. Its arms—her arms—raised defensively at first, then slowly lowered as if to peek out, though it was hard to gauge the three-dimensional movement of something flat on the floor.
Could it even be hit?
She gently set Pat down, giving him a reassuring nod as she leaned forward. It felt surreal, watching her shadow move independently, no longer mirroring her actions. Stranger still was the way it nervously rubbed its arm and glanced around, as if it was… anxious?
Celeste smiled. Genuinely and warmly.
“Hey,” she said, extending her hand again. “Nice to finally meet you.”
Her shadow turned to face her, flickering ever so slightly despite the steady light in the room. The edges of its form wisped like smoke, as though a fire danced beneath its surface. It still wore her shape, but wasn’t bound by the same rules—its hair didn’t follow the tilt of her head, its proportions wavered, sometimes imperfectly so. Most startling of all, it reached out, extending a hand in return. The shadow’s arm lifted from the floor into the air, growing even more ethereal as it left the surface and danced in the shifting particles of dust in the air.
Pat let out a low warning bellow.
Celeste couldn’t help but chuckle. Reaching out for a hand made of shadow did seem like a bad idea. But if this thing had wanted to harm her, it could have done so long ago. It had chosen instead to help her, time and time again. She shot her Slowpoke a playful smile. “Please, no Water Gun this time. I actually thought about this.”
When her fingers finally touched the darkness, the shadow felt cold under her skin, but strangely warm at the same time. Its form didn’t hold; instead, it curled around her wrist, coiling like a soft, formless blob. The edges of its wisp-like tendrils quivered, almost excitedly, as it reached as far up as her elbow.
It was curious. Ticklish.
Celeste giggled, and as she did, a pair of eyes appeared in the shadow—red, or maybe yellow, or both. It stared at her with eagerness, not malice. But when its gaze met hers, the shadow recoiled, eyes widening, before it hurriedly folded back into its original form, mimicking her shape on the ground once more.
She couldn’t help but to laugh at that too. All this time, she’d been scared to even acknowledge it—afraid of what she might find. Afraid she’d see a monster fitting her own shape, one she couldn’t understand, or fight.
But now? She was starting to get it. She didn’t know what it was, but she had a feeling she knew a little more about who it was.
“You’re pretty shy, huh?” she said, her smile never fading. She then gestured for Pat to come closer. “It’s okay. We won’t push you if you’re not ready. Pat’s been teaching me how to be more mindful of, you know, people who work different from me. Different speeds, different levels of… extroversion…? Is that even a word?” She glanced at Pat, who squinted suspiciously at the shadow, almost snorting in disbelief. Yesterday, this entire thing would’ve gone very differently.
“Anyway,” Celeste continued, turning back to the shadow, “I guess you’ve seen all that, though, if you’ve been watching me. And protecting me. I haven’t fully wrapped my head around what’s happening in Cinnabar, but… I’m really grateful. You’ve kept me from ending up like everyone else. So… thanks. Really.”
She let her words hang in the air for a moment. The shadow twitched, unsure. It wasn’t like Pat, who took his time to process things. No, this was different—like it was eager but hesitant, wanting to come forward but too shy to fully reveal itself. Like a stutter, but in 2D-body language.
It was, in a strange way, sort of endearing.
Eventually, the shadow moved again, though its eyes didn’t return this time. Instead, it turned toward Pat and gave him a very small wave. The gesture seemed to relax him a little, as if he also understood that if this thing had any violent intent, it would’ve acted by now.
Her shadow turned back to Celeste and gave her a slight nod.
“That’s a yes? You’ll help us?” Celeste’s grin widened. “That’s amazing! Welcome to the team!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.
At that, the shadow flinched, its form tightening before quickly merging back into her shape, mimicking her every movement once more.
Well, it was going too smoothly.
—*——*—
It took a few more minutes before the shadow emerged again. By then, Celeste was deep in conversation with Pat, weighing their options going forward. If the shadow helped, maybe they could do what she’d done at the beach party: move quietly, avoiding anything it could sense—be it the fake, construct people, or the eye creatures.
The problem was, where would they go?
Another hiding place, maybe? Hopping from one shelter to another felt like a losing game, especially if something was tracking her. Celeste still wasn’t totally sure about that.
“What if we steal a boat and leave?” she suggested, just as a gentle tug at her leg made her pause. She beamed, glancing down. “You’re back!” she said brightly, but quickly caught herself. “Sorry if I spooked you earlier. Pat gave me a real dirty look after you vanished—guess you won him over real quick.”
The shadow, still mimicking her form, seemed to relax slightly, its shoulders dropping and chest rising in a subtle gesture. Was it smiling? Laughing? Hard to tell, but it felt lighter, warmer. Celeste exchanged a glance with Pat, who gave the shadow one of his slow, toothy grins. Then, when she cleared her throat, the shadow tensed again.
“Uh… I’m not gonna push anything on you, okay? Being part of the team, meeting my other Pokémon or my friends. That’s all up to you. When you’re ready. And if you ever want to,” she looked around, the reality of their situation pressing in. “But if you’re helping us out, we’ve gotta be on the same page about what we’re doing next. I mean… is it okay if I ask you some questions?”
The shadow hesitated, but eventually gave a small nod.
Celeste mirrored the nod, taking a breath. “So… what are you?” The shadow flickered, like it didn’t understand. After a pause, it pointed to itself—at the form it had borrowed from Celeste. “You mean… you’re me?” she guessed, then sighed. “Or just a shadow? Are you a Pokémon?”
The shadow nodded to everything, almost mechanically, as if any answer was good enough to move on. Still, Celeste pressed further.
“Are you… a Gengar? Mimikyu?” At that, the nodding stopped abruptly. The shadow shook its head violently, as if horrified by the idea. “Okay, not those,” Celeste said, suppressing a laugh. “But you are a ghost, right?” she asked more cautiously, and then let out a breath when it gave her another nod. “Like that Dhelmise we saw the other day?” she tried again.
This question gave the shadow some pause. It thought about it for a moment, already shaking its head in a negative as it did so. Before Celeste could ask more, however, it stretched from her legs to the opposite wall. Pat stirred a little, but Celeste was fascinated.
The shadow pressed its palms together, then slowly pulled them apart, leaving only the fingers touching. Its lower palm then slowly stretched downward, forming an inverted T that further bent into an anchor shape. The anchor detached from it, and refined itself until it became a perfect outline of Dhelmise. But the shadow wasn’t done. From its form, smaller shadows detached, forming jagged shapes that resembled letters, each with bulging eyes. The shadow made the letters circle the Dhelmise, swirling faster until the anchor lunged forward, as if in an attack.
Celeste stared, wide-eyed. “These… creatures. They’re the ones we saw before… Were they controlling Dhelmise?” she asked.
The shadow shook its head again and the shapes it cast dissolved into a blur. But rather than returning to its form, the smaller shades reformed into a human shape. Her shadow-ghost seemed to struggle to define this one, but as it added two hair loops on the sides of the head, Celeste’s heart skipped.
She knew who it was.
Before she could shout Nurse Joy’s name, Pat nudged her with his tail, blinking slowly as if urging her to be quiet. Celeste swallowed her words, watching as the shadow excitedly finished its artwork. When it remembered it was being observed, it shook and it glanced around, clearly debating whether to hide again.
Celeste nodded. “That’s totally Nurse Joy.” The shadow looked away, rubbing its arm like someone caught in the spotlight. “You’re really, really good at this,” she added, grinning.
But at the praise, it flickered like Christmas Lights before it vanished, returning to its usual motionless place at her feet.
Celeste giggled, but Pat nudged her harder this time.
She turned to him, smug. “Now you’re fast, huh?” She poked him back until he blushed slightly under his fur.
As much as she wanted to keep playing along, they didn’t have this luxury right now.
“Okay, so here’s what I got from that,” Celeste said, switching back to business. “The Dhelmise is like Nurse Joy—something created and controlled by those letter things. And if we steal a boat, we’ll probably run into it. Unless we can avoid it… with your help.” She glanced down at the shadow, then paused, frowning. “I really hate calling it ‘the shadow’—or ‘it.’ You think it’ll freak out again if I give it a name?”
Pat didn’t get a chance to answer before her shadow stirred again. Which was great news, because she could only do this slowing down thing so much in one day.
It was all about balance, right?
“Hey, you came back quick!” she said, her voice bright. “I was thinking… You should have a name. Do you already have one?” The shadow tugged lightly on her leg, its form shifting impatiently. “Okay, I’m getting boy vibes, so how about—”
The tug grew stronger.
“Ow. Okay. Girl then?” It paused. Looking at Pat first, then at her. It dropped its shoulders and quickly shook its head, almost like it just wanted to get this over with. And she was the impatient one. “Huh, okay. Not a boy and not a girl. But… you don’t feel like an ‘it’ either.”
The shadow nodded, still hurriedly and glancing at the sides.
“Okay,” Celeste smiled, “so, name. How about… Shy? It fits because, well, you’re pretty shy—”
The shadow grabbed her leg and tugged again, more forcefully, somehow turning solid enough to pull her toward the window.
“Come on, I’m trying here! At least pretend to—”
Three knocks interrupted her. The room went still. Her breath caught in her throat. They all froze.
A voice called from outside, “Room service.”
Celeste’s first thought was that they never ordered room service. It took a second for her to recognise it was Jude.
When she did, all that talk about slowing down completely vanished. In a flash, Celeste grabbed her backpack, threw open the window, and thanked Arceus she was on the ground floor. By the time Jude entered the room, Celeste, Shy, and Pat were already halfway to the pool area.
Generally speaking, she was trying to be less impulsive.
Really, she was.
But as she reached the pool and turned to see Jude calmly walking toward the window, something in her snapped. She had a million insults ready, but actually said nothing. Yet somehow, what she did was worse. She just stared at him with pure, defiant silence.
In that moment, Celeste could feel all eyes were on her.
And if they weren’t after her before… Well, they sure as hell would be now.