Why, if it isn’t my favourite Dewott?

George bolted upright, only to be greeted by two massive red eyes. His heart skipped a beat, the initial fear turning into a twitchy scowl moments later.

‘Back again? You do realise Hein and Terez are right there, don’t you? You’ll just get-’

Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come right back around for round two! They can’t keep me from you forever, y’know.

The eyes spun a full three-sixty degrees, the voice in the dark traversing the void like a boat on water. How fortunate were they that George couldn’t speak out loud in this limbo. His groans would’ve been deep enough to scare a bear away. In his head, at least.

‘Fine. Have it your way, then. Why are you here now?’

Fufufufufu! First things first, did you guess my-

‘Yes. You’re the Renegade.’ George jolted his head forwards for emphasis. ‘This isn't a secret. You’ve had your fun. Stop doing this already, god…’

The Renegade reared back, throwing its tendrils behind the head as if shocked. My! We’ve got quite the attitude today! Now where did that come from, eh?

‘Oh, that’s easy. You know, all that shadowy crap and hijacking people’s minds, you really didn’t need to do any of that. Should’ve just repeated that stupid question in everyone’s heads a million more times, everyone would’ve gone insane eventually!’

A chuckle echoed through the darkness. You’re not wrong there. But nah, that’s not what I want. And I ain’t a mind hijacker, either.

George rolled his eyes, as red-tipped tendrils danced in front of his face. ‘Suuure. Cut the crap already.’

Mere seconds passed before George found himself staring down a red tip. It damn near tapped his chin several times, before the Renegade retracted. The Dewott froze. It was but a dream, yet the sheer power in those tendrils overwhelmed all senses. His tongue felt sour, his ears ringed, his nose went blank, his fur stood up straight, and the sight of death up close had been burned into his eyes.

Hmm… well, you weren’t exactly on the mark. But close enough. I’ll accept the Renegade. You’ll get my real name eventually, though! Now, where were we again… oh yes!

As the serpent-like creature coiled around George, with its thousand leg-like tendrils skittering about, George locked up. He wanted to say, scream, anything resembling a strong response. Yet the body spoke for him.

So… George. Dewott George. Do you feel happy, having that particular bit attached to you? Does it make you feel comfortable?

George didn’t respond at first. In truth, nothing this creature said made him feel comfortable. But admitting that would only make it happier.

‘N-No.’

Why not?

‘Because… that doesn’t matter to you, does it? My name’s George. What more do you want?’

The eyes tilted sideways. Well, you’re right, for starters. It doesn’t mean much to me in the slightest. Pokemon are Pokemon… but you? You’re no Pokemon, are you?

George kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure how to answer, and he knew the conversation was headed in an ugly direction.

See, there’s this little catch with feeling comfortable in your skin. Can’t feel too comfortable when it isn’t really your skin, right? Most Pokemon identify with their species nearly as much as their name! ‘Tis a big deal, after all. Size, strength, you name it. That friend of yours caught flack for his, right?

‘...Yes?’ George whispered.

And you, you kept getting told you’re not like the other Oshawott out there. Other Dewotts too, for that manner. In fact, they label you with ‘Othersider’. Act like you’re a space alien! Am I right, or am I wrong?

‘....You’re not wrong.’

The Renegade nodded at him for a good fifteen seconds, keeping his tendrils at bay. And there you have it. See… I’m someone with ideals. Said ideals involve… a major cleanup here on Eravate. Making sure that certain evil gods can’t get their grubby little claws on it anymore. Said evil gods… are why you’re here. But that’s not what you wanted yourself now, is it? It’s not like they asked you.

George’s fists clenched up. ‘Shut up! If you’re trying to get me to go back, forget it. I might not have asked, but why would I go back? I’ve got actual friends here! People that actually care how I’m doing. Why would I leave them behind?’ he shouted into the void. He placed a hand on his chest,the skin blazing and itchy.

Once more, the Renegade contorted its head a full three sixty degrees, its tendrils spinning along with the rest of its body. They resembled a whirlpool, with the red eyes acting as the point of singularity.

Are you sure you have no one back home?

‘Of course I am! Who do you think I am, some famous-’

Voices then echoed from far away. George fell silent. Though fuzzy and unclear at the moment, they were distinctive enough to separate from one another. One belonged to a man, two others were women. The echoes resembled a conversation taking place in a warehouse, the sound waves bouncing off the walls. But George wasn’t in a warehouse. Nowhere near one.

His eyes narrowed. What was that beast thinking? What was the purpose of this? The Renegade had taken a puzzle, then dumped the pieces on the floor. And George was supposed to make sense of it, somehow. Yet, as the voices grew closer, and the echoes faded away, the jigsaws began to fall into place.

‘You can’t be serious here… have you really searched all over?’

‘I’ve done the work. Police, flyers, even got the other children to help out. We did a demonstration together, gotten his school involved. They haven’t found any clues as to where he’s gone.’

George frowned. ‘That… that’s the damn headmistress! What?! How does-’

‘Ma’am. I… is there anything we can do? I know this is highly irregular and… not something anyone’s expecting or even want from us now, but… we’ve regretted leaving him here ever since that day. All because of money… It’s been heavy on us for years. We… want to set it right, if we can.’

A sigh echoed. ‘Don’t take any kind of public role in this, please. If you want to work privately, I’d appreciate any hands I can get. But imagine the outrage. Foster’s home boy’s parents suddenly return to look for him. It wouldn’t reflect well on any of us.’

‘We know,’ a deft male voice said. ‘Please. I’ve been working with the police for years. I’ve begged them to put me on the case, but they’ve denied me. I won’t give up. We can’t give up.’

George staggered back, eyes going all over the place. ‘Who are they? Are they talking about… me?’

You know the answer to both of those questions, George. Don’t you?

The Dewott covered up his ears, pinching them shut. Yet the voices sounded just as clear. It’s as if the people involved were talking right inside his brain. And the headmistress now spoke up, after a chair shuffled on a hard floor.

‘Mr. Wilkinson. Just do your best. That’s all you can do.’

‘I swear. I’ll get my George back. Even if it’s the last thing I’ll do. Even if we have to go to hell and back to get him, we’ll get him back. Right, honey?’

‘Y-yeah…’

George’s eyes dilated. ‘Wilkinson? But that’s-’

He clammed up before the thought could finish itself. A giant hand popped out of the darkness and seized his body, then shook. And shook. The fur on his neck stood upright, his tail slapped the ground, he kicked wildly. Air tasted like poison, the oxygen seemingly crushing his windpipe.

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Then, his eyes flew open. Floating over him was a Dusknoir, with both hands firmly compressing his chest.

“There. You’re finally awake.”

A nascent grogginess asserted itself through George as he tried lifting his head. It didn’t take long for him to drop back.

“Don’t think about falling asleep again. Not after having him visit.” Hein’s voice dripped with more venom than an Ariados’ mandibles.

George groaned in response, his head falling sideways as he caught wind of someone rummaging through a bag to his left. A Gardevoir, by the looks of it; his sight wasn’t that blurry.

“Bad dreams… ugh. Haven’t had one of these in a while.”

“Not long enough, I’m afraid.” Hein shook his head, then let go of his chest. “Terez. Some Chesto and Oran mixture should help here. Do we have them?”

“Yes, of course,” the Gardevoir answered, her voice firm. “I’ve been keeping count just fine.” She cut the top of two berries off, then kneeled beside George. Before he knew it, the Dewott found himself chewing slowly, as Terez pressed her fingers against his jaws. Moments later, he swallowed.

“Feeling better?”

“Sort of,” George muttered, the mixture kicking in. “Where… where am I again?”

“In Tholander. Eravate’s southwest,” Hein said, his voice stern. “We have been there for a few days now. We’re not far from the island any longer.” The Dusknoir paused, then let out a deep, deep sigh. “Please. The sooner we get to the island, the better. I’d prefer to get this over with.”

The wind passed through their surroundings, a forest whose leaves had long been scattered across the floor. “Hang on a minute,” Terez said, several dead leaves skittering past her feet. “Give him the time to get his bearings.”

George shook his head. Waking up shouldn’t be this difficult. Then again, one isn’t supposed to dream up voices from the past, either.

“Heard her again. The headmistress. I told you about her, didn’t I? And about the foster’s home.” George sat up, pinching the fur besides his eyes like he wanted to bore through to his skull. “That beast did it…”

“Was he hoping to retraumatize you?”

“No. Heard her talk about looking for me with…” George didn’t finish. ‘My parents. Those were my parents, weren’t they?’

“Don’t bother,” Hein said, a ripple going through his ectoplasm. “You know full well he’s trying to lead you astray. It’s a trick, George. Don’t fall for it.”

“Of course.” George gritted his teeth. “Of course…” ‘Can’t fall for it. Not now…’

Not long after waking, the trio cleaned up their campsite. Say one thing for sleeping under the stars, say you’d leave the spot just as you found it. Terez set an illusion or two down, Hein scouted the path ahead, while George foraged a little. Some sour berries he didn’t recognise were all over the nearby bushes, which he plucked. Terez would know whether they were edible or not.

Sparse as their campsite was, it wasn’t long before they were on their way. Tholander. A part of Eravate George hadn’t been to yet. Granted, he had only seen so much to begin with, yet Hein spoke the region’s name in hushed tones. The Dusknoir sounded everything except confident. The flickering of his ectoplasm made George swallow, his fingers fidgeting around each other..

‘Tholander, huh… last stop before the island. And Hein looks like he’s sweating bullets…’

The ghost’s silence unsettled them as they headed into the province. At first, everything seemed ordinary, yet something poked at the back of George’s mind. Something wasn’t right. But the question of ‘what’ wasn’t written on the surroundings. Ordinary oak trees dotted most of the landscape, with Lazy streams and wild berry bushes crisscrossing through. It made George think of migrating herds, except with plants and water. The ferals inhabiting the province preferred staying put. No huge herds or tracks were anywhere to be seen.

Peaceful as the surroundings looked, that nagging sense of something not being right grew the further they walked. It took a while for George to realise why. After all, nothing about nature seemed off. No civilised claws had cut into the landscape.

Because there were no towns to speak of, nor roads. Just forests, maybe the occasional hamlet in the distance, or hermits in burrows. Nothing more.

‘...Where is everyone? How come no one lives here?’

As morning turned to afternoon, and the forest gave way to grassland, the lack of civilization stuck out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t as if Tholander was some kind of decrepit, lifeless desert. Plenty of streams, ponds, rivers and everything in between to drink from. Wild grains, berries, fruits and vegetables were all over the forests and fields. For the ferals, the lack of competition made the province an utopia. It would be so easy to start a settlement here. So where were they?

As a matter of fact, the only sign of a settlement George spotted was a ruin on the edge of the forest. Houses, burrows and workplaces reduced to their foundations. At best, a single building resembled a sty. It used to be a village, yet the whereabouts of its inhabitants were a mystery.

‘Did everyone just… move away? Did some kind of plague break out? That can’t be it, right?’

Tholander’s emptiness being what it was, the road to the coast resembled little more than a dirt trail at best. Most of the time, George had to push his way through grasses which reached up to his forehead. The kind of grass patch you’d get ambushed in. He bit his lip. If not for the Dusknoir leading the way, plenty of ferals would’ve jumped out by now. Gone straight for the jugular.

‘One advantage of having a Dusknoir around, at least… glad he’s on our side. Well, mostly on our side.’ George contemplated. Shade then cast down upon him all of a sudden. One glance to the side revealed Terez walking in lockstep with him, her eyes fixed to the horizon. The Dewott stuck his tongue in his cheek. ‘...Shouldn’t be thinking that anymore. I know.’

Yet luck didn’t last forever. Sooner or later, their presence here would’ve been noticed, and there were more than enough Pokemon that wanted a chunk out of them. The Anomalied, or the ferals. A mixture of both even, in one of the many Mystery Dungeons they’d sidestepped thus far.

In the end, it was a group of Scraggy that popped out of the grass before Hein, led by a Scrafty whose facial scars resembled a smile.

“Alright, stop right there. You want through? Hand over yer valuables. Now.”

George and Terez stopped dead their tracks, some eight paces behind the Dusknoir. The grass beside them rustled. Several more Scraggy encircled them. George’s ears went flat against his head.

‘...Is this a gang?’

“We have no valuables,” Hein said.

“Sure ye do,” Scrafty scoffed. “Just some random Pokemon passin’ through ol’ Thole, with ‘nothing’. Ain’t even from here…” He spat beside himself on one of his Scraggy boys.“Yeah, no. Yer travellin, yer loaded. Wanna get all flaccid with me? I’ll beat some extra air into ye, fatso.”

“I said, we have no valuables,” Hein repeated, his voice dire with a slight echo. It made him sound colder than the grave. He clenched a single fist, the markings on his body glowing fierce. “Do not play games. This is sacred land. Scum like you defile it with your presence.”

“h-Hah.” The Scrafty tried scoffing it off, yet his shaky feet and stutters spoke a thousand words. If one could sweat through speech, he would. “Listen ol’... ol’ guy. I ain’t got a damn to give ‘bout what you want, alright? You look mighty rich. Got some pretty Eracoins you could make us, so…”

Terez made herself visible, stretching her neck out so Scrafty would see her. “Step aside, please. We don’t want anyone getting hurt-”

“No.”

An icy glow materialised in Hein’s right fist. “This is what Tholander has turned into? A robbers’ paradise now that the Crest isn’t here?”

Some of the Scraggy backed away now, nervously eyeing each other. George in turn eyed them, and Hein in front of him. ‘What is he doing?’

“Wh-what gives? Ain’t never seen a Pokemon like you before, and you think you can-”

In the blink of an eye, Hein seized the Scrafty by the neck, then raised him before his chest.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with, little man.”

“Hein? Hein! What are you-”

It all happened so fast. A dark flash came and went with a snap, before the Dusknoir tossed the Scrafty into the grass, right where his little minions were standing. Silence haunted the air before shrieking filled it instead, the Scraggy fleeing as fast as their little legs would let them. They were ants to a ghostly giant.

But this was just the beginning. Hein’s ectoplasm twitched and flickered even faster now. He threw himself down to the ground, hands gripping into the dirt like claws. A thin trail of darkness shot out of each finger, then shot blindly ahead of him.

George grimaced all around as the Scraggy ran away, the tall grasses wavering from all the minions rushing through. Screams haunted the air. His heart skipped a beat with each one, it felt. Horror barely described what he felt, being trapped in the middle of this.

“Hein! HEIN! You son of a-” He bit down as hard as he could, then grabbed the Dusknoir by the ectoplasm. Whatever bit of ectoplasm he could get his hand on, then yanked. Yet his efforts went nowhere. No amount of yanking made the ghost budge even a little.

He shrugged everything off, even as he came back up. Even as he turned around and looked George in the eye, as the Dewott was pulled back himself.

“Stop… please. You’re making this worse.” Terez held onto George with an outstretched hand, a blue glow pulling him back. “Hein. You know fulwell this is over the line. I’ve seen you go extreme plenty, but… To some thieves? Have you lost your mind?”

“Emotional weakness,” Hein said in a monotone voice. His fingers were a solid black still. “Tholander… is home. I didn’t want to get robbed this close to where- ”

“Excuses? You’re not stooping that low, are you?” Terez asked. “If you are, I know a certain Aggron you’d get along with real well.”

The Dusknoir’s fists broke apart. “I… no excuses. Not in the slightest. I’m sorry I went that far. Sorry you had to see that. And-”

The Dewott’s hands shook the second Terez let go of him. His teeth were gritted, his ears flat against his head as his heart pounded. The walls of his chest hurt. “What’s wrong with you?!”

Hein turned away. “I wish I had an easy answer for that. I really do.”

“So you’re going to not tell me? Again?!” George screamed at the top of his lungs. Hein winced. He rippled and twisted to such an extent, it looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own body.

“George… this, there’s a reason for-”

“Then answer me!” George shouted. “You just killed them! Don’t play coy with me, just tell me the damn truth for once! You sick, son of a-”

“Please.” Hein shut his lone eye, then shook his antenna. “We’re almost there. Not the island. I won’t just tell you why I’m like this. I’ll show you. Everything you’d ever want to know about me. And everything you don’t.”

The Dusknoir’s voice sounded hoarse, as if he were suffering from a sore throat. As if the act of speaking was painful in and of itself. George stared at him, still frustrated, but confused. He wanted to say something – anything – in response, but he was beaten to it.

“Are you sure about this?” Terez walked over to his side, trying to get in front of him. He covered his eye.

“Yes. If it’ll help him. And it was only a matter of time.”

“You’ve said plenty of times how painful it is. Thinking about then. About what happened. And what happened after.”

Suddenly, the Dusknoir’s body dropped to the floor. He held both of his hands on the back of his antenna, pushing it down so hard that the rest of his ectoplasm stretched to compensate.

“Please. You’re not making this easier. Just let me get this over with.”

George took a deep breath, before closing the gap between him and them. “What is he talking abou-”

“Shhh,” Terez hushed. “Let the man speak for himself.”

By this time, Hein had slumped over. If he were a regular man, he’d resemble a corpse, slumped over as if he’d collapsed on the street. Technically, he was. Ghosts being the oddity they were on Eravate, let alone the myth back home, George had nothing to compare him to. Just himself, and that Marshadow he barely knew.

Yet the discomfort gnawed away at him the longer he stared. Hein had been an enigma, a monster, and a terrifying presence in the months George had known him. George’s trust had been reluctantly placed. After all, he was an otter, and Hein was an unstoppable ghost with a mouth big enough to swallow him.

So how come the ghost looked to be sulking? Right in front of him, no less?

“How far out are we again… from Westholm?”

“One day, give or take. The coast? Two, most likely.”

The Dusknoir took a deep breath, then exhaled. Grasses nearby stirred, then shivered from the sound of his voice. “Terez. If you can leave me and George alone while I take him through Westholm… I’d appreciate it.”

“Understood,” Terez said.

George swallowed. “Westholm?” ‘I don’t recall seeing a Westholm on any map.’ “What is-”

“He’s going to talk with you, George,” Terez said to him, blunt and without room for error. “Hear out what he has to say. He does not share this story with just anyone. It’s a chapter from his life. One he wished never happened.” She held her arms before her chest. “If you go in with an open mind, you’ll find it quite enlightening. I can guarantee you.”

“Don’t say that,” Hein whispered. “It’s… Potentially futile. He hates and fears me. I don’t blame him. Anyone would.”

The Dewott groaned under his breath. ‘What do I even say to that…’

The Gardevoir sighed. “Cross that bridge when we get there. Let’s… get moving again, shall we? And put this behind us for now.”

It took a while for Hein to get off the ground. When he did, he moved like he’d been bed bound for the last ten years. Yet again, an awkward silence dominated their travels. Hein walked in front, Terez in the back, and George in between. And though their communication had been stripped to the essentials, George caught Hein peeking over his shoulder at him on occasion, only to whip back around the second they made eye contact. Any attempt to ask him about it fell on deaf ears.

‘Tomorrow’s going to be something, isn’t it…’