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The winds were strong, even for early autumn. Trees bristled and murmured throughout the town, showering leaves in every corner they could sneak their way into. Grounded leaves along the dirt roads crinkled beneath the tiny sneakers dashing along. Excitement brimmed in the boy's face despite the cold stinging his reddened cheeks. He could have gone digging in his travel pack for something warmer than shorts, but the boy didn't want to delay his adventure any further. Not far behind, though barely keeping up with a lumbering pace, was his even smaller acquaintance.

The two came to a stop at the town gates, the well-worn path stretching out before them, beckoning to the starry gaze in the boy's eyes. "You know, Cinder," Anton mumbled wistfully, sights trained on the open route, "I've never left Cherrygrove by myself before. I guess that's sorta the same for you too, huh?" He turned to the Cyndaquil with an awkward but rosy grin, and she simply stared back with eyes cracked into slits. The same look she'd been giving him since their recent meeting was entirely indecipherable.

Professor Elm advised the child to work toward forming a strong bond with his partner. The professor's emphasis on working in unison certainly struck a strong cord with Anton; thoughts of his mother and her Electivire immediately came to mind. When it came to repairing and maintaining power for each home and business in town, her quick wit and his dexterity made for many a job well done. Outside of work, the two shared a solid friendship. Anton observed how they helped each other around the house, keeping everything in order and watching over the growing boy they both held dear. It was something he looked forward to, having a bond like that. A partner to rely on and be relied on by, the thought had his little heart dancing with joy and anticipation, ever since his mother had finally given her blessing for the boy to start his adventure. Like many nights, sleep was kept far from him, though this was the first time in a while he was bouncing with energy until the sun spilled over the horizon from his bedroom window.

Anton shyly kicked his feet in the dirt, still doing his best to keep up his shy smile, "I, um... I hope we'll do okay with the gym challenge. It'd be pretty cool if we could even become champions... don't you think?" That same stare, unchanging and firm. She stared through him just long enough to feel a creeping chill down his neck, on top of the wind howling around them. As soon as that feeling came, she simply pointed herself toward the road and dawdled onward. Not a sound besides the shuffle of paws on dirt.

"Oh, um... yeah. Let's head out." A couple hesitant steps forward past the gate, a few more strides to get ahead of her, and many more to march onward on the long journey ahead.

"Maa-aa-aa! Maar!"

The darling sheep in his arms bleated with pride, all the way back to the gym's exit. His coarse wool tickled at Anton's cheek, tiny shocks of static brushing through with every little wiggle of his body. Anton giggled at the sensation, nuzzling back as the Mareep continued to cheer. "Heh heh, you did really good, Meepy!", he turned to his other companion as she trailed up behind the two, "You too, Cinder!" Her beady eyes flicked up to them, then they shut with a small, smokey puff of her snout. His naturally crooked smile wavered just a little more, and he toyed with the metal badge between his fingers. Is she happy, or...?

"Hello, just when you least expect it!", the booming voice of a gentleman with a polaroid stand in his hands nearly had the boy jumping over himself, "I am Cameron the Photographer! Congratulations on acquiring the Zephyr Badge, care for a commemorative photograph?" Shock quickly shaken off, Anton nodded with as much excitement as Meepy, "Yes, please! Oh! Um, could I also have a copy to send to my mom?" "Of course, young man! Alright then, get yourselves ready!"

Suddenly a warm weight settled itself soundlessly on Anton's back. Peeping to his left, he was met with Cinder curled around his shoulder, facing the photographer. Her face remained fixed as always. Is she excited, or...?

"Everyone ready? Say 'Magbyyy'!"

Sunset came upon the forest faster than Anton anticipated, but luckily, with the help of his partners, setting up camp was a simple matter. "Can you hold the bars right here, Noodle?", he tilted his head towards the Tangela beside him, then to the supports in his little hands. She happily obliged, slithering her vines into place, allowing him to secure them together with ease.

Behind the two, Phanphy tucked into itself and wheeled around on the ground in a circular motion, smoothing out rocks and dirt in place of a shallow pit. Once he was satisfied with the depth, Meepy chomped on the pile of gathered sticks and leaves, chucking them into the pit one by one. With the pile successfully transferred to its new home, Cinder slinked up to the kindling and huffed out a thin stream of flames. By the time Anton and Noodle had the tent standing firm, the campfire was crackling steadily. Anton clapped his hands to the group around the fire, "Good job you guys! We should be set; I'll get dinner ready!"

While they played and lounged around the campfire, the boy took to chopping berries and measuring out vitamins in their individual bowls. He carefully followed the handwritten note taped to his food storage container as instructed (He snorted every time he caught side of some of the poorly drawn Elekids at the bottom, oh Seas and Skies, they were awful). His work went along smoothly, aside from the occasional need to fend off his drooling Phanphy from picking at ingredients already set aside ("Hey! No, bad Kettle, I'm almost done!"). Anton distributed the bowls, each with generous portions, and the group wasted no time munching away. From the storage container, Anton dug out a premade sandwich from the Pokemart, swathed in clingwrap, for himself. He didn't care for the spongey texture of the bread or the limp lettuce, but between taking on Azelea's Gym Leader and fighting their way through hoards of Weedle and Paras to even get to their camping spot, he'd rather save himself some energy when it came to cooking tonight.

As he nibbled, Anton pulled out his map to study once more. "Mm, I think we should get to Goldenrod around noon, the day after tomorrow," he noted between mushy bites, "Hope we can get to the gym at a good time; I don't wanna go at a super busy time. Might be better to wait 'til nighttime... But it's a big city, so it might be busy then too... Hm... Guess we'll just have to figure it out when we get there."

Hard work and hunger went hand-in-hand; the group finished dinner in record time. Meepy and Kettle were still brimming with energy after their meal, playfighting and tumbling around together. Cinder quietly took to nestling herself in the tent while Anton remained perched on a log with Noodle warmly wrapping his limbs around the boy's lap and waist. Taking out a metal-tipped pen from his pocket, he began to fiddle with his Pokegear until he managed to reveal its inner components. He unfurled a wire carefully wrapped inside, attaching the custom link to the pen's opposite end. Tapping at one of the flat circuit boards inside the Pokegear elicited tinny, electronic beeps of different tones. At first he tapped somewhat absentmindedly, then he hummed out a simple tune and attempted to carefully follow along with the tool in his hand.

Noodle's vine tips tapped along his sides in time with the tune, even with little tuts of "Taa-tata taa!". The two wrestling around the fire abandoned their match to come dance around Anton's feet, singing along, though not quite matching the pitch as well as the Tangela. The boy giggled at their tone-deaf serenade, losing track of his melody but filled with a tingle in his chest just as soft and hearty as his song.

Finally drained of all their energy, the campfire was smothered out, the homemade stylophone was tucked away, and the rest of the group took to settling in the tent together. Cinder, still alert, scooted herself to make room for them all before appearing to get more comfortable in her own corner. Unlike most nights for Anton, his restless tossing and turning was minimal. Maybe it was the long day of travel or the simple comfort of his companions, or perhaps something in between, that let him settle into his sleeping bag easily that night. They all drifted off pleasantly together, dreaming of more victories and merrymaking that awaited them.

It was a very long walk from Olivine back to Ecruteak—not that he could remember how his feet brought him there. All he could recall was the burn in his muscles running from his ankles to his hips. And the tarp-wrapped bundle in his arms. It was so light. Far, far too light a weight, unlike the one searing into his shoulder.

A blink, and he was at the city's gates. Another, and he was outside the Pokecenter, leaning against the wall, hand kept busy with scrolling down the address list on his Pokegear until he reached the "M"s. A ring and a half later, the call was answered.

"Hello, dear? I'm here, what's going on?", she hadn't taken such a gentle tone with him in a long time. It churned his insides further. His voice was a mere whisper, hoarse, and practically wrung of any spirit, "Hi, mom. Made it to town. At the Pokecenter." There was a crackly sigh from the other end. He didn't comment on it. Even looking at the digitized waveform on the small screen made the chill of shame sink deeper. "Okay, I'm glad you got there all right. I'm sorry I'll be a bit late; had a hiccup on the last house, but I'll try and get there by morning, okay?" "Mh." "If you think you're up to it, you could head to Mahogany Town and stay with Grandma for the night?"

Anton's back sunk down the concrete wall, until he sat with his knees pulled plush to his chest, the bundle still tucked in one arm. After a moment, he shook his head, though she couldn't see it, "I'm, um... tired. I'll stay here." Another sigh, just as drained as he felt. "Okay, dear. In that case, you should go check in soon and get some rest. Remember to eat something too?" "Mh." "And brush your teeth before bed?" "Mh." "And... try and talk with your pokemon, if you can?" He squeezed his eyes tight at the shifting weight on his shoulder. His voice creaked, hissing much like a broken whistle, "I'll try."

Several reminders and too-soft "I love you"s pass through his ears until the sun begins to fall and the call ended. More out of habit than conscious effort, he removed the Pokegear and always-too-tight (but now somehow even tighter) wrist strap and dropped them in his pocket. His arm wrapped around the bundle once more, and he buried his head into it. His little body heaved, weakly sniveling, and long since drained of tears. There came a nudge at his ear, at first just a few sharp pokes, but they quickly became rough shoves into his head when he curled in on himself further. He hated this.

"Stop it, Cinder," he almost choked on her name, "Please." As he expected, she continued to prod at his face, adding rough paw pads to the torment and clawing at his head. Sour bile stung his throat. "Cinder, please. Leave me alone." She continued. His limbs shook with how tightly he gripped them together, nails biting into his arms and turning numb. He hated this.

He wanted to disappear. Make himself smaller and smaller until he was just a speck, then nothing. Maybe then he could pretend Cider wasn't there watching him, a failure. Pretend everything was okay. Like he was back on his way to Cianwood, as they should have been. Instead, he sat in the dirt, curled up like a poor Ledyba, clutching a bundle that should have been playing, laughing, and bleating with joy because it was well, happy, and alive. But it wasn't. Because of hi-

"Qui?"

Anton's head shot up from its shelter. The sharp gaze of his Quilava met him head-on. That look of hers stayed the same, but he knew-he knew-she was disgusted. She had to be. "What?", his voice trembled, dipped in bitter barbs, "What do you want from me?" Nothing. Silence. Just an inescapable stare. Inescapable, digging into his soul, tearing it apart, judging him-

The boy growled, acid clinging and grinding into his throat. His body leapt up, toppling Cinder off his shoulders and at his feet. Her body rolled in the grass, like a puppet with its strings cut. After a moment laying there, she slowly got back on her feet. That stare, that same stare—was that all she knew? How to torment him- "Why can't you leave me alone?! Just ignore me, you do it all the time!" Still nothing, no reaction. He hated this. Hated how she gave him nothing but blank stares that seared into his heart. How his throat ached screaming before, full of confusion and fear and guilt. How he screamed at her now, hurling not only months of frustration and failure to simply understand what made her tick. How dearly wrong he was, how he still had tears left to shed.

His body slumped back against the wall, scraping his shoulder blades as he returned to the dirt on his knees. Was the world tilting? Shaking around him? Or was that simply the—rage terror heartbreak pain GUILT—wracking his body with these tremors? His voice cracked, unable to rise above a whisper, though he wouldn't even have the strength to shout again if he'd tried. "Whatever. It doesn't matter," he pulled the bundle to his chest, turning his knuckles white, "You, and Noodle, and Kettle are gonna go live with Granny. She'll take care of you. Better than I-OW!"

Teeth clamped down on the meat of his palm. Anton jerked away at the digging pain, the bundle rolled into the grass as he toppled on his back. Cinder, jaw still locked-on, followed, landing right on his chest. While her bite was nowhere near enough to draw blood, the blatant glare down into his eyes burned. Even in their toughest gym battles, he'd never seen her flames flare out so loud and blinding. For the first time, since this journey began, he didn't need to guess at her thoughts to know what she wanted. No, what she demanded.

"You will not make me leave."

["Hey, you, right there!"]

["Can I help you sir?"]

["Hmmm... Ah! I remember your face; you took the gym challenge as a kid, didn't you?"]

["I... Yes, I did.]

["I knew it! You were one of those challengers people had an eye on, you know? I still have the recordings the league took from your matches with Morty and Jasmine, that was really something!"]

["Oh, um... thanks."]

["It's a shame you pretty much dropped off the Earth before you finished the challenge, I was really looking forward to taking you on!"]

["You were...? W-wait, you're-!"]

["Oh, looks like my ride is here! Let's meet up and battle sometime, see you later, Anton!"]

Given that not too many cared to travel in the dead of winter, the station settled to a hum over Goldenrod's usual city bustle. Aside from an elderly woman humming a little tune and a businessman babbling away at his Pokegear, the most notable passengers-to-be were a pair of children laughing and chatting excitedly. With the waiting area being so bare, it was only natural that Anton would overhear them from his booth as he absentmindedly scrawled cuircutboard patterns in his notebook.

"Well I heard that Sabrina's son is actually the gym leader now! I think he's also a Psychic-type trainer, too!"

"Oh really? Hm... not sure if I should lead in with my Donphan or Heracross. I expected to go up against Sabrina's Alakazam, but maybe her son uses one too?"

Hm... a Heracross might not be favorable for the fighting type, but its general defenses against special attacks plus some possible type coverage could make up for that. Donphan... well it's a safe option defensively, but it has less in terms of pinpointing damage on a psychic type...

"I got to watch some recordings of her matches from my mom when she was in Kanto. I was really shocked at one fight where a challenger's Graveler got clean knocked out in the first turn by an Energy Ball!"

Ah... seems like that's for dealing with some of the bulkier types; not a bad choice to cover Alakazam's weakness in taking big hits...

"Oof, that's rough. Guessing they didn't win?"

"Well, they tried pretty hard, but none of his team could get past that Reflect barrier!"

Unbalanced team leaning to physical attackers, it sounds like. Having at least one or two mixed attackers would help, especially with some good type coverage.

Oh geez, hope Sabrina's son isn't that tough..."

Mm... Bug Buzz on Heracross would be a decent solution if it already has its barrier up. Though, if it also has Disable to try and cut down an opponent's options, maybe adding Shadow Claw or Throat Chop as a backup wouldn't be an awful plan-

"Heeello, what've you got there?"

Before he could react, a large hand yoinked the journal from the desk. Anton tried to grab for it, but the violet tail attached to the hand was much too quick. The tail snaked around the air playfully until the hand dropped the journal into another's waiting hands. The one in possession of the item had a more than familiar face, grinning from ear to ear, smug and mischievous.

"Gold," Anton grumbled out a warning to the larger man, "Leave it." Unfazed by the annoyed glare sent his way, he studied the inked page. "Finally getting back into battling again, huh?", his smile softened just a tad, but still held the obvious need to tease.  In one swift motion, jostling the resting Quilava on his shoulder in the process, Anton swiped the journal back.

"No, Gold, I'm not. I was just bored, waiting for my shift to end. Don't you have some Delibird Day shopping to do? Or anything else to get you out of the station?"

The man feigned the overdramatic shock of a southern belle, "Oh, dearie me! And here I thought I would be generous and invite you out for dinner! Oh weeell, I see I'm wanted here!" Anton rolled his eyes, more than accustomed to the theatrics and easily brushing them aside. He glanced over to the clock hanging above the platform entrance, "Well, dinner will have to wait 15 more minutes either way."

Gold shrugged, "Heh, no problem, Silver's coming in on the next ride here. He's on break from League work this week, and I wanted us all to go out and unwind while he's here." Anton hummed with some interest as he packed away his belongings into the bag under his booth, "Oh really? Well, I guess peak challenge season's well past with how the weather is." "Exactamondo! So! Boys night out tonight!"

With his fate declared, Anton mumbled, but made no strong outward protest. It had been quite some time since he'd gotten to see either of his friends outside of their occasional stops at the station while on business between regions. Even then, they rarely had much time to talk while they waited for their rides, or if they did, Anton was often occupied by a confused passenger or curious tourist at his booth. Having some company at least beat having dinner alone and lounging around until he fell asleep, when he could.

The two young men easily passed the time with some mild banter, until their awaited companion strutted out into the waiting area. Gold and his Aipom waved their arms wildly and beckoned him forward, even as his aloof expression turned annoyed. "You're acting like I hadn't just seen you yesterday, I swear you have the object permanence of a Lillipup sometimes.", though his lips stretched with a grimace, his sigh was light and airy. Gold pouted, Aipom mimicking the expression with him instantly, "I knowww, but it doesn't make me any less happy to see your lovely fac-" A gloved hand quickly slapped down over Gold's babbling mouth. Silver leaned over the booth with a slight quirk of a smile, "Anyway, nice to see you again, Anton, Cinder. Ready to head out?"

Anton nodded, "Yeah, lemme just page over my co-worker so I can clock out."

"PFFF, hahahaha! They really got all the way to you and didn't realize that wouldn't work?"

Gold's fist pounded down against the thick dining table repeatedly, sloshing their freshly refilled drinks just the slightest bit, struck silly by a fit of giggles. Silver shrugged while keeping his chunk of garlic bread out of the hands of his antsy Weavile, ignoring her own full bowl, "Mm, honestly? Not the first time I've seen someone use a Normal-type on Gengar, but the kid looked so embarrassed I was almost sorry for him. Almost. Sadly, that's been the most interesting battle I've had all week." "Maybe you'll have some good challengers after the holiday," Anton gingerly sipped his Alolan-themed frosted drink, already feeling a touch of numbness with his second drink, "There'll be more trainers traveling to the league once spring comes, at least." Silver mumbled, shoving the heel of bread between his teeth, much to his whining daughter's dismay, "Mm, true."

Anton gazed over to the other half of the booth as he sipped, the two trainer's pokemon huddled together to demolish the stacked plate of malsadas. Crobat's poor face was cakes in whipped cream, and at the mercy of the mischievous Aipom melded over it's body trying to get some licks in. Feraligatr chomped away at his portion happily while Togekiss and Gengar played an intense game of tug o' war over a particular oran berry-stuffed puff. Cinder sat at the end of the booth seat with a plate and half eaten pastry.

"Heheh, hey Anton," Gold's sloppy elbowing nearly toppled the man off his seat, "You should go n' give our little champ a good challenge, eh? C'mon, I'll even letcha borrow my team for it!" Gold continued to nudge and nudge, but Anton raised his hands with a grimace, looking anywhere but at the former champion. "I think I'll pass, thanks." Silver rolled his eyes, "I think that's your poorest attempt yet. Learn to handle your liquor, it's rotting your brain." The champion went completely ignored, Gold slinging an arm over Anton's shoulder with a hearty laugh, "C'mooon, I know you're itchin' for a battle! You'll have lots of funnn!"

Anton could only sigh and shake his head. No matter how much he denied the man, his insistence never wavered. Perhaps telling him to make like a Combee and buzz off would have been less headache-inducing in the long run. Less headache-inducing, yes, but nights like these were preferred over going home without much to do but sleep off the long shift.

"I'd rather not be responsible for your team. And, as I kept telling you, I don't plan on going back to training anytime soon.", Anton absentmindedly chugged back the rest of his drink, the following touch of brain freeze left him rubbing his temples. Gold swayed in his seat, pulling Anton along with him and his sing-songy tone, "Partyyy pooperrr! Ah well, I'll getcha next time for suuure!" Silver snorted at the declaration while fending off his picky Weavile making swipes at his bread. Anton sighed yet again, as he always did at Gold's foolhardy pushes and promises. Not like he could, or even should, take him up on those offers.

The city's lights shimmered with its namesake as Anton managed to stumble his way to his doorstep. His fingers fumbled at first when punching in the keys for the hole-in-the-wall complex's entrance, but the second attempt turned successful. Low voices of other tenants and their pokemon rumbled through the paper-thin walls as they shuffled up the stairwell. Most fell into the rhythm of regular conversation, a few noisier laughs peppered one of the middle floor's landings, but overall the apartment's breathing turned itself into a fuzzy buzzing in his ears.

Anton took care not to trip over the slightly raised threshold (and add another scratch to the wood flooring) before kicking off his work flats beside the small shoe rack. He held the door open a moment longer to let Cinder come through as well.

His bed called to him sweetly, a rare song he was always grateful to accept. He barely registered his body hitting the comforter until a split second after when his workbag's weight harshly shifted on his back. With a garbled groan, he aimlessly wiggled his shoulders at the straps until the back broke loose beside him. The weak clasp at the top gave way at the sudden movement, spilling the bag's contents on the bed. He stared blankly at the mess he had created, then huffed. Ooof course.

He let a hand flop bonelessly on the pile, right on his uniform's hat. He dragged it back into the maw of his workbag. He flopped his hand back to the pile, grabbed his flashlight this time, and went back into the bag. Rinse and repeat for a few more miscellaneous items, until his hand lays completely flat on a smooth surface. He lingered, simply staring at the cover. With the brain fog rippling over him, he couldn't tell how much time had passed. His fingers prodded at the cover's edge, another ounce of pressure could have easily flipped it over, open for the world to see. But Anton just lay there, poking at his notebook as if it would burn him, were he not careful.

A pitter patter dragged on the floor behind him. The blankets hanging beside his legs tugged and rustled until a weight silently dropped on the mattress near his hips. The weight gradually rolled further up, near his waist, by his torso, until her paw sat at the edge of his vision.

Anton rolled on his side, taking the notebook with a tight grip that surprised himself. He weakly pulled the notebook to his chest, letting it press into him with a chill that reached beneath his skin. The binding rings dug into his forearms, and page corners tickled under his chin with the room's slight draft, but he made no effort to shift his body again. From his bedroom window, he could see the high risen lights of the Radio Tower flashing and weaving together. He really did like how bright and colorful they often looked, though, much like how the days blurred together for him, they really just looked so... dull. Fit right in with everything else.

Ah, his eyelids were finally getting heavy. A good night's rest felt like a lot to ask for, but a long one was good enough. His mumbled "Good Night" was soaked up into the pillow's fluff as he was finally allowed to rest, if only for a night.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Some hours after the peak lunch rush, the station fell into a lull. The shuffling of feet back and forth from the boarding platform to the city had long since dispersed. Only the singing of the travel-sized radio left at the attendant's booth by the previous employee passed through the lobby. Anton didn't mind the background noise—some Kalosian music, judging by the smooth accordion—though without the usual flood of passengers at the station, he found himself a bit aimless. He leaned on his stiff-backed stool as he lazily tapped away on his Pokegear. The previous hour of "work" was spent tinkering with code until he ended up with a plain and simple game of Ekans. Of course, the visuals were nothing mind-blowing, simple dots strung together on the screen, blinking as they moved. It was about as enthralling to play as watching water drain out of a clogged bathtub. Still, more entertaining than staring out at the lobby doors, waiting for anyone to pass through. A familiar caller ID saw fit to interrupt his game, saving Anton from his boredom. With a hum and a moment of hesitation, he accepted the call. "HEY BUD, YOU BUSY!?" Anton came close to bashing his head against the back wall, before scrambling to lower Gold's volume to a bearable level. He reattached the dislodged Pokegear to his wristband with only a slight sigh, "Well, I'm currently at work, so-" "So nothing going on later tonight, right?" A weary look and a raised brow were directed at the screen. He knew that tone. "Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?" There came a crackled jostling from the speakers, along with a strained Silver in the background, "Supposed to be! In three hours! Still packing!" "Yeah, yeah, I'll help in a sec!" Anton grumbled and grimaced, "Are you really asking me to look after an egg? Again? For a whole week?" Just the other day, Gold offhandedly remarked that he was going to visit some of Kanto's ex-champions in Alola, old friends of his. Honestly, a tropical getaway in late January didn't sound too bad. Johto's ex-champion offered to pay for a flight and room for Anton. Both individual items would have certainly run at least half a paycheck for him, knowing how hiked up the prices were for such a tourist heavy region.  The idea was enticing, but in typical Gold fashion, the short notice would absolutely earn Anton a sour tone from his superior. Not to mention, he was also certain getting dragged off to the world-renowned Battle Tree was also packaged in with the deal, judging by how Gold's eyes lit up when the facility was brought up as a destination. As interesting as it may have been, he would rather not have to hear Gold begging for participation.  And now, in typical Gold fashion, he was asking for an inconvenient favor. It wouldn't be the first time he'd asked Anton to keep track of a pokemon egg for him; far from it. While it's not like he had much going on outside of work, that didn't stop the oncoming migraine that came with the constant wonder of how this man would always wait until the last minute to beg for a babysitter. Every time. Honestly, Anton wondered why he didn't just ask about any favors Gold needed beforehand by now.  Likely, what always made the prospect worse was knowing that was simply how Gold operated. It was just the way he was, like a Yamper; excitable, happy-go-lucky, and the attention span of a walnut. Especially when it came to close deadlines. It also wasn't like it was the eggs' fault for needing to be taken care of. Anton had given up on trying to convince the man he could find someone else better suited to caring for them after the first few times, so he simply accepted the occasional responsibility of trying to keep an egg safe for a few days. It could be worse. But now he wanted an entire week? "Gold, I really don't think that's a great idea." Oh, and there came the Lillipup eyes bleeding into Gold's whine, "It'll only be three days! You can hand it off to Professor Elm for me when he's back from his trip in Galar, so you don't have to wait up for me!" A deep breath. An exhale. Looked like there was a plan for the weekend after all. At the last minute. "Next time, try and remember to call me as soon as you know you'll need an eggsitter for this long, would give me some more time to prepare at least," the exasperation in his voice fizzled out, turning more flat. It was an empty request, he knew, but he really would appreciate the notice.  Gold chuckled apologetically, "Look, I know I spring these on you sometimes, but this was pretty spur of the moment for me too, actually. I just got asked to hold this egg by a friend as a favor this morning. She wants me to try and do some research into it, seems like she's got a special one on her hands." "Special how?" "Hm... Good question!" Well, Anton couldn't really be surprised by that response from him, of all people. He could still be disappointed, however. "Alright then, where am I meeting this friend of yours?" --- Anton had only visited the Ruins of Alph three times before. Once, as a child, his mother had been called to repair a generator belonging to the archeologists stationed there. He'd been oh-so curious to go poking around the dilapidated structures, but Eletra kept him busy enough as a babysitter while his mother accessed the damages. The second encounter came several years later, after they won against Faulkner. Nothing significant happened. The third time Gold saw fit to drag him and Silver out there on All Dusknoir's Eve last autumn. He crafted an entire hammy tour for the two of them, complete with the spooky stories and urban legends they'd grown up hearing of people falling prey to Unknown and being whisked away to the other side. While the tour was juvenile, it proved to at least be an entertaining night, especially after bumping into a late-working archeologist with some strange and properly eerie stories of his own from his time at the site. Perhaps it was the source and level of credibility that came with it, but the way they described their experiences with the Unknown from the depths certainly made it a challenge to sleep soundly that night. Though that didn't mean much when it came to his regular habits. And now, this would be the fourth. On a late January evening, heading there on his bike, creaking and groaning from months of disuse. He regretted not changing into something warmer when he'd stopped by his apartment, but he thought it better to not keep this friend of Gold's waiting. At the very least, he could compensate for the absence of a thicker jacket since his body always tended to run fairly warm. Gold neglected to give a name to this friend, though he'd mentioned she was coming from Sinnoh and native to the region; she would be easy enough to pick out once they spoke, at least. About half an hour after departing, they arrived at the ruins. Anton parked the bike nearby the research base, securing the wire lock, while Cinder slinked out of the basket and took her place around his shoulders. As expected, there were no tourists in sight of the frost covered grounds. With perfect timing, a man in a lab coat and several other layers stepped out from the research building, waving him over as he finished locking up. "Evening, sonny! You're the kid here for Cynthia, right?" "Oh, um," Anton took a moment to gather his words, "I think? She's from Si-" Ah, so that was it. Gold may have been stubborn, but he wasn't stupid; he had been a Champion after all. He knew Anton would've turned him down had he said her name. "Everything alright there, son?", the archeologists gave Anton a mildly concerned look. "O-oh, it's nothing... Where can I find Cynthia, sir?" The man gestured towards one of the tunnel entrances further down the dirt road, "She'll be over down the second level that-a-way. We've got the lights set up on that floor, so don't worry your head none about a flashlight." "I see. Thank you, sir." The man retreated to the warm building once again while Anton trudged down the icy stone path as directed. The corners of his mouth dragged as he passed through the drafty archway. Seas and Skies, he hoped this would be quick. He was getting a mug of hot chocolate when he got back to the city. He carefully descended the ladder, keeping a firm grip on the handles until he touched sweet ground again. Small fairy lights were carefully wrapped around the pillars spread throughout the area, illuminating the halls just enough to navigate safely. A cursory look around showed no champion in sight, so Anton took to going deeper, using the walls as an additional guide through the ruins. The chiseled stone was coarse under his fingertips, he didn't much care for the texture scraping at his skin, but it was preferable to tripping over his own feet. Deeper into the halls came a soft humming. He paused at the sound for a moment before pushing himself towards it. Around the next wall partition was a familiar figure, crouching to read engravings etched onto the stone, entirely engrossed in her studies. The incubation cylinder at her side stood quite tall, roughly a meter in height. Oh, that was going to be a pain to fit in the basket. Reluctantly, Anton spoke up, "Hello, Cynthia." She stood with a graceful turn, smiling with clear recognition at the sight of him. "Ah, Anton, good to see you again. I wish I could have seen you with the boys at the Delibird Day Banquet this year." Ah, right, that International League gathering, crawling with Gym Leaders, Facility Heads, and Elite Four members, was last month. In the previous two years since becoming acquainted with Johto's latest champions, Anton had been tugged along to attend. Silver had been kind enough to help in securing his passport to visit the Kalosian venue of the Battle Maison, absolutely the most stunning and high-class place Anton had ever set foot in. The party itself actually had quite a casual vibe, despite the formal and extravagant dress of all the guests. (Seeing Gold in something besides scratched up overalls was like watching a Ducklett transform into a Swanna. Anton was also thankful for Silver's fashion sense, putting something together even he could look half decent in.) The event mostly consisted of socializing and typical holiday festivities of giving gifts and indulging in roasted meals, baked goods, and a touch of boozy and very good eggnog. That first year was actually quite pleasant; Anton hadn't expected to meet so many friendly faces and have such an almost comforting atmosphere. It would also be a lie to deny that watching so many high-level trainers go head-to-head on the main floor in intense yet lighthearted battles was an amazing sight. (He almost wished he'd had a notepad with him at the time). The second year he attended... Well, it was a good thing that eggnog was perhaps too strong. He didn't care to recall much of what he did remember from last year. "I was busy. With work.", his aversion to eye contact and stilted tone did little to hide his poor bluff. Unlike the behavior of another certain ex-champion, she seemed content not to push the subject further, simply nodding with a noise of affirmation. She gestured down to the incubator at her feet, "I assume Gold gave you the rundown about the situation, given you came in his place?" Anton gave the egg inside a more dedicated look. Two yolk-colored rings coiled on the shell caught his attention. Didn't eggs only come with little spots? Green ones? "Not entirely, no", fingers to his chin, tilting his head to the egg, he asked, "Is it... sick?" "I don't think that it is, but I still can't be too sure. All I know is that my successor found it recently, before they went missing last month." That last statement, said almost so casually and off-handedly, got Anton's eyebrows raised, "Sinnoh's current champion is missing?" Despite the region being so far off to the north, it was hard to imagine such news wouldn't spread like wildfire, if not through word of mouth alone. Certainly, radio and news networks would be getting some fat paychecks running a story with that much weight. Yet the main headlines of the month had simply been about the usual chaos that came to major shopping outlets in the winter and the expected increase in thefts. Barely any missing person reports that Anton had noticed, at least none as high profile as a region's champion. "Well," Cynthia began carefully, her voice lowered, "On paper, he's on vacation leave, though it feels like that might have to be relabeled to sick leave if he's gone much longer. I thought it would be a good idea to keep the matter private at the time to prevent public panic. I was hoping to avoid a situation like the past case of Champion Red if he'd simply been away training, but... Interpol's yet to turn anything up after two weeks, so that's some cause to worry." The first word that crossed Anton's mind was "irresponsible", but he had just enough tact not to voice it aloud. Still, that didn't stop him from questioning her methods, "And you're trusting this sensitive information to someone who you've only met three times, because...?" She simply grinned at him, not quite smug, but certainly brimming with confidence, "Meeting you once was already more than enough for me to know you're not the type to gossip. And if Gold is vouching for your trust, then I'll be happy to trust in you as well." That sudden sucker punch of praise (and possibly a backhanded compliment) caught him off guard. As he stood there, failing to find a convincing enough counter, Cynthia sauntered over to him with the capsule in hand. "Someone trustworthy and inconspicuous such as yourself is the best person I could ask to handle this task for me. So really, I am grateful for you doing this." The final blow only served to hammer in what he already knew to be true; there was no avoiding the faith being placed in him. Anton's frown dragged to the floor, "I... suppose I'll do my best not to disappoint." Sinnoh's champion beamed, "Wonderful! And no worries, as I understand it, the egg isn't anywhere near hatching, so you shouldn't have too much to worry about!" Well, Anton could at least be thankful for that. She offered him the abnormal egg. The weight of it in his hands was much heavier than it looked. Even with the glass and metal tube it was housed in, Anton guessed it felt similar to carrying a toddler over what should have been much closer to a newborn. With a closer view, the markings across the shell appeared almost etched into the surface, shallow dips marked the transition from white to gold. What an odd egg. "Care to exchange numbers?", Cynthia broke him out of his studying, "I'll be in Johto for at least one more day to go visit a friend, so I'll be able to come by if there's anything going on, with the egg or you, that you'd need my help with." The brief remark certainly didn't go unnoticed, but he chose to open his Pokegear contact list instead of delving any further there. Though he did have to wonder if there was some signal tuned to attract regional champions inside him. Following their contacts being shared, Cynthia turned and waved, offering a simple "until next time" as she ventured deeper into the ruins with an investigative glint in her eyes. With just the two of them and the egg remaining, Anton let out a worn breath. Well, time to go home. Finally. Navigating back to the floor's start took less time on the round trip. A daydream of a lukewarm pillow and a hot drink was quite a pleasant motivator. Unfortunately, the egg capsule wasn't fitted with any extra straps to secure it for a climb, leading to some minutes of fiddling until Anton discovered a comfortable enough grip on it while keeping a hand free. Using said hand, he took hold of the furthest bar he could reach from the ground and slowly worked his feet up the lower rungs until his back began to curl. Then, with a forceful huff and heave of his body upward, Anton managed to catch his hand on a bar four more spaces higher. The slap of bare flesh on metal caused him to hiss as the sensation tingled on his palm. If nothing else, he could respect Cynthia's effort to get down the ladder with such a bulky incubator. She looked quite petite, though maybe all that height had done her some good. A few more hops got him halfway up the latter, but that final push got him wheezing. The muscle burn in his arms wasn't tiring, though the same couldn't quite go for his waning stamina. He pressed his body against the ladder briefly for a breather, though with that short break his focus shifted to something else. Was that... singing? No, it was closer to a sort of chiming, as if bells were quietly clinking off the carved walls, but the sound was growing in volume as Anton listened. He swiveled his head in search of the sound, the layout of the underground made the sound echo around evenly, as if the source carried through the walls themselves. His sweeping glance caught small, dark figures quickly whizzing from the hall opposite where he had exited and towards the ladder. With their appearance, the chorus of song became shrill and deafening; Anton gripped the handlebar tighter at the sudden shift, causing his ears to ring. Cinder snarled at the noise in her low, husky grumble. The figures' shapes became more clear as they all abruptly circled around Anton, vibrating with some form of agitation; these were Unknown. He had only seen them before as simple illustrations in the research station in all of his previous encounters with the ruins, created from apparent rare sightings of them in the area. From what he had gathered from short conversations with the archaeologists, trying to capture their likeness in photographs was always a failed attempt for various reasons, but illustrations proved to be the only medium that could depict them most accurately. If he were to be honest, he always thought they were a bit of a joke—a pokemon breed in the form of a near dead language that appeared as simple lines with bulging eyes at their center? They seemed ridiculous, almost cartoonish. So, seeing a handful of those creatures now, almost exactly as they appeared in simple hand-drawn pictures, came as much more than a bit uncanny. "What th-! H-hey!" Something tugged hard on the bandana tied to Anton's neck. His body jerked back; all that kept him from being thrown down was his steel grip on the ladder. Another set of the Unknown pulled at the arm cradling the incubator, hooking their smooth and elastic appendages into his coat sleeve, forceful enough to start loosening Anton's hold. "N-no, g-get off!", he practically squeaked at the Unknown, who ignored his pleas and continued to pull at him. He couldn't climb higher or back down; he could only shake his body away from them in hopes they would back off. They showed no signs of giving up, and much to Anton's horror, he could feel a pooling sweat under his palms threatening to loosen his hold. Continuing to try shaking them off was foolish, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel the dread sinking in with- slipping, it's slipping, the egg-! And then Cinder leaped out at the clump of Unknown pulling at Anton's arm. Before his eyes, everything flashed in a blur, like a camera's burst shutter, capturing every detail that went wrong. Cinder clamped her jaw down on one of the multi-pronged Unknown. Her body was flung off by another with a blast of pure energy. Anton reached both arms out to Cinder, without a moment of thought or hesitation. Anton's body lurched back from the ladder, with Cinder pulled up to his chest. The incubator was falling. The incubator touched the ground. Inside the incubator, the egg began to cra-

The world shifted. Like a light switched off, the ruins were gone. At least those ruins were gone. These were not the same walls and pillars as the Ruins of Alph. The surrounding symbols and muddy shades were all wrong. Anton felt his back come into contact with the ground, though not with nearly as much intensity as he'd braced himself for. The ground was ice cold. So was the air, far more chilled and sharp than it had been just a moment prior. For a moment, Anton was numb to the world, as if this were some dream, switching between disconnected scenes and pulling from the far reaches of the mind to make disjointed thoughts and ideas into some vaguely recognizable form. But this was not a dream. Not with the tingling soreness in his back, or the freezing and trembling stone against it penetrating through his thin layers, or Cinder's scorching and dwindling warmth laying right on his chest. Slowly, he sat up with a groan. The first thing he noticed was the ground he lay upon; a massive triangular alter of dark earth tones, covered in simple shapes, all combined and carved precisely. He sat near an edge, beside a steep flight of stairs that led down to a wide, dense darkness below. *k-kr* *k-kr* Anton whipped his head toward the source of the fractured silence. The egg, the same egg he had just been trusted to protect, sat perfectly at the center of the alter, within bands much like the ones on its barely cracked shell. Actually, no, the split was growing, splintering like a Spinarak's web. There was no reversing the damage, dread seized his throat at the sight. What was he supposed to say to Gold, or Sinnoh's ex-Champion for that matter? They had trusted him, and yet he couldn't even be trusted to go five minutes without- Through the seams of the damaged egg, brilliant light was spilt. Blinding, almost enough for Anton to shield his eyes in reaction. Was that...? There was... a blanket of warmth flowing forth from that light. It was almost... comforting? Something about it reminded Anton of his mother. Of many days and years past, holding him close when he'd scrape his knees and cry, or when she'd tuck him into bed after a long day playing around with her tools in the garage, tinkering away until he felt himself nodding off. Such a forgotten yet familiar feeling was... nice. The moment he tried to peek back at the egg from between his fingers, the light was snatched away. That lovely warmth was sucked away as well, replaced with an even harsher chill than before, one that clawed into his nerves, almost seeming to drown out every bit of heat it could find in him. The shaking of the temple intensified to an almost dizzying degree. With the light snuffed, ink leaked from within the egg onto the alter, a thick molasses pooling around the shell it gradually abandoned. Soon the shell was consumed by the sheer volume of the ooze, expanding far beyond what should have been stored in its frail container. The flow slowed further, halting at the edge of the innermost circle carved in the stone, remaining still for a moment before something tendril like-thin, coiling, and dripping-rose from the ink's core. As it slithered through the air, like the arm of a Tentacruel, another tendril wriggled out of the mass. Then another. And another. And another, until they grew into a countless wave, like the hairs of an anemone horribly twitching and intertwining with each other. Some primal instinct clawed at the forefront of Anton's mind to -get up, get away, run- yet the rest of him sat there numb, transfixed by the incomprehensible thing being brought to life before them. All at once, the tendrils came together, twisting into the form of a towering cocoon. A shriek like iron bending, wailing from pressure, emanated from within. His hair, already standing on end, shuddered sharply, as if making a poor attempt to shake his unease away so he could just -get UP, get AWAY, RUN- but again, he could not. The solid wall of shadows undulated, rippling like something wriggling within, struggling to free itself. Anton couldn't bring himself to look away, even as mere sight of the creature's pulsing felt as though his stomach was mimicking it. Then it stopped. The only inch of autonomy Anton had been granted was holding his breath. He would have hoped the thing would have stopped there, but the crawling hand of dread gripping his neck was more than enough to write those hopes off entirely. One by one, the tendrils peeled themselves away, retracting and twisting once more to take on a new form. Though everything remained drenched in shadows, every shape and appendage came together to form a sharp, looming figure. Mangled spears for legs, a full body protruding with branches of its being, and encircled by a malformed halo. Large clumped tendrils and thin wisps flowed all throughout the creature's body, especially around the top of it's long, hawk-like head. It tilted its head down, achingly slow. It opened its eyes—the large abstract one painted on its left and the two disquieting slits on its right—to peer right down on Anton.

Anton opened his mouth, to say what, he wasn't sure. All that escaped him was something between a rasp and a squeak in a choked staccato. With far too much grace for such an appearance, it bowed its pillar of a neck forward until only a hair of space remained between their faces. It was then that Anton realized, with the pure chill of ice radiating from the creature, that the temple had been entirely still. All he was capable of, frozen in place by the inescapable watch of the creature's bewitching eyes, was shivering before the hulking monstrosity. It pried its maw open, inky flesh tearing away like a liquid web, and a thousand voices saw fit to spill forth. Cohesion was a far-fetched concept between the overlap of whispers, groans, and shrills. Voices that agreed, voices that contradicted, pulled at every morsel of attention in Anton's mind. Images in his head, both vivid and murky, flashed with -t o o m u c h- information, yet nothing he could begin to unravel or dare to comprehend. It was forcing itself inside him, in every corner of his vessel -g e t o u t-, and taking over even more beyond that. Familiar sensations, and ones he wasn't aware he could even feel, all at once overwhelming -S T O P- even his sense of self. And then it did stop. The spell was broken. The dams of fear and adrenaline burst. Anton flipped over, scrambled to his feet with Cinder still limp in his arms, and dashed down the staircase leading further into the unknown. No thoughts in his head, just primal instinct to find safety. His legs, his lungs, -his head-, it all burned, but his fear burned brighter. A pinprick of hope appeared down in the distant dark, a soft ray of light to guide him from this nightmare. The hand that gripped his ankle did not allow it. Another tugged at his shirt collar. Another yanked him by his hair. Another, and another, and another, taking hold of every bit of him once again. He tried to scream, he really did, but even that was consumed by the hands clamped over his mouth, pouring ink down his throat, choking him from both inside and out. The shard of light that seemed just within his grasp died, those countless hands even stealing away his sight. He couldn't stop himself from blinking, as if it would somehow will away the darkness. It could have been seconds, days, or an eternity; he wasn't sure, only that eventually he could no longer tell if his eyes were open or shut. Without warning, the coldness around him turned... well, not warm at all, but warm enough that the sharpness of his blood vessels expanding reawakened his senses. He could feel the flat ground beneath his knees and Cinder's weight in his arms, and the hands binding him had since vanished. Once more, he opened his eyes, truly. Met with yet another unfamiliar setting. Pale rocks, thick and shaped into massive cubes, were scattered about the wide, misty hall of a cave. Some rested on the ground, while most protruded from the walls. Winds howled, distant, and dampened, likely due to these irregular structures. Though fairly dim, the light nature of the area stung Anton's unadjusted eyes. There was no sign of the dark creature or its many hands. A strong full body shudder ripped through him at that realization, though given that the air was still quite chilled, he continued to shiver. The gentle puffs of condensed breath coming from him contrasted with his bewildered state of mind. "Mmg..." Anton's attention was forced down to his lap. She was flipped on her back. Limbs held close to her body. Scuff marks lined her entire torso. She tried to move. The result was another weak cry. Her back flames were low. That wasn't good. Looking up and taking a quick sweep of the area, there seemed to be no immediate danger. Still, given whatever it was that happened, it did little to ease his nerves. Upon standing, Anton could feel the dull jitter of soreness running up his stiff muscles. Each step through the icy cave was slow and wobbly. Between the crash of adrenaline and the chattering of teeth, maintaining focus to push forward was a struggle. The thought of sitting down for a few minutes to rebuild his strength started to creep up on him. Oh, he was more than aware of how awful an idea it was, but rationality had little room in a tired mind. He may have given into the comforting lull of just a short rest if not for seeing who was waiting around the next corner. He nearly jumped at the sight of the thin man sitting against the cave wall. His face was entirely obscured by his woven bamboo hat, but he was unmistakably a real human being. His manner of dress seemed similar to that of the more rural areas around Mount Silver; what seemed like bulkier wraps and layers with more traditional aesthetics. Had he really been taken that far out west? Anton noted some half-torn patches on his clothes; the yellow threads formed some sort of logo he didn't recognize. Maybe the man was from an agriculture guild? "'S-Scuse me," the cold was even starting to numb his tongue, "I'm a bit l-lost. N-not s-sure where I am." The man didn't even twitch, much less acknowledge Anton. Perplexed, Anton cautiously approached the man. Once at his side, he kneeled and spoke again, "S-sir, can you he-" Anton swallowed back a croak. A face painted pure blue and unfocused, half opened eyes. Dead. He was simply dead. Anton stood back up and stared down at the body. No outward marks aside from the patches, just a bit of dirt around the sleeves of his thermal undershirt and coat. Without seeing his face, the man looked as if he could still get right up and start walking. But he simply continued to sit there. Anton wasn't feeling very tired anymore. He knelt down to the body again, and carefully laid Cinder out on the ground. He's not sure what possessed him to start removing the sashes of the body's outerwear, but there he was, removing the long coat. Like cutting open an iapapa berry, a sour odor wafted from the body when he was so close. He decided to focus on holding his breath in long bursts. Once the outer clothing was removed, Anton robotically proceeded to put the clothes on himself. It fit a quite loosely on him, given that the body was a bit heftier and much taller than him, but Anton was in no mindset to complain. Or do much anything else. The extra layer seemed to be doing its job, even if it was only a slight improvement. Once everything was secure enough, he wordlessly picked Cinder up again and walked. The direction really didn't matter, especially given that the cave was basically a long hall. He just walked. And walked. And walked. He didn't even register the echo of his shoes against the ground, the rising volume of the howling wind, or even the small paw scratching at his chest. He walked, until he smacked face first into a wall and stumbled backwards. Anton hissed, pressing a cold hand to his forehead. He looked up to see the wall blocking his path, only to be met with a shriek of rolling metal and a vision filled with red. Anton only dodged the massive arm that swung his way by a hair, falling flat on his back this time. Another swipe from the Bronzong came his way as he scrambled up on his feet again, only managing to put slightly less distance between them. He could feel the weight of the air being cut before him, chiming through the bell's body as it quickly advanced. Too many neurons firing off in too many directions, searching for an escape. What little focus Anton possessed was directed into hopping backwards, away from the relentless batting coming his way. He couldn't keep this up forever, the clump of rocks that caught his heel was proof of that. Midfall, he could only watch the arm shoot out, preparing to slam right down on his head. Then Cinder leaped out of his hold once more. The sound of flames letting loose accompanied the ringing of his head knocking down into the ground. Pain sprouted from his entire top half and tingled everything beyond that. Get up, get up, he couldn't stay laying there, they had to get away. Fighting his body's will to stiffen and curl up, he forced himself to his hands and knees, barely supporting his own weight. His vision swayed with double images -concentrate concentrate- the Bronzong sent blasts Cinder's way, but she managed to duck and roll away from each attack with a slim margin of error. And it was getting even slimmer with each consecutive miss. Her fire came forth in pathetic bursts, barely able to reach the Bronzong with how much space she was already trying to put between them. She couldn't keep doing this, he had to -get up, get up- do something, yet his limbs were made of lead and -you need to get her out- struggling to cooperate. One more attack avoided, and she landed on her knees instead of her paws. Her little body heaved, wobbled, and finally collapsed in a pile, completely vulnerable to the oncoming blow. The last drops of adrenaline finally kicked in; Anton launched into the fray, kicking at the ground in a desperate sprint. He dived across the distance, shielding Cinder with his torso just as a flat fist shot into his back. One second, and they flew through the air. Another, and that same air was strangled out of his lungs when his body smacked against a wall. There was acrack. Definitely heard a crack somewhere. Every bit of his body screamed. No time, there was no time for that. Back up on his feet. Stumbling. It was out of the path. They could run, had to. Away, getting away. Bell chime from behind. Keep running keep running keep-

HEAD. PAIN. R I N G I N G. PAIN. AWAY. RUN. AWAY RINGING AWAY R I N G I N G A W A Y. Still going. Still running. Light. Ringing. Light outside. Cold outside, even colder. Still running. Ringing. Wind. Face stings. Don't trip. Up again. Ringing. Still running. Still running. Wind hurts. Ringing. Still running. Still running. Still running. Knees hurt. Ringing. Still running. Still running. Still... Still... S t i l l... S t i l l c o l d... ... ... ... ... ... Ground. Cold. Pulling. Cinder. White. Pulling. P u l l i n g. P u l l i n g. N o t c o l d. N o t a n y t h i n g. D a r k. N o w i n d. P u l l i n g. C i n d e r. Y e l l i n g. A h, s h e m u s t b e t i r e d t o o.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

[A chilled body, yet all around him burned. The flames crackled, and danced, and cackled, and pranced wherever they pleased. He remained cold, even as the flames licked at his skin, digging into him, trying to consume every bit of him. It was only fair to let it rage and overtake him. He was the one to light the sparks after all.  Rumbling smoke passed through his ears, between his fingers, filling his lungs and leaving no spot untouched. The smell of ash, of charred meat, of scorched dreams. All burnt away, burnt away, burnt away. It’s only fair he should burn with them.  He couldn’t control the flames, it had been foolish to think he could. He couldn’t put out the flames, it was arrogant to think he could. He was only fit to choke on smoke and wither with all that received the flame’s touch. The frozen core within him cracked. Heat flooded him all at once, until there was no chill, no calm, no relief left to comfort him. It was only fair, after all. It was only fair, it was only fair, it was only fair…]  Warm. A bit fuzzy. There was something heavy covering his body. His skin was tingly, almost numb. First instinct was to move away whatever weight laid on him, but gravity pushed against his  arms. Both his body and mind felt drained, cradled by cotton and struggling to form a clear thought. It was dark, wherever he was, but there was still something… wriggling, at the corners of his vision. He couldn't feel them, but something was there just beyond his view. Even as he tried to shift his sight around in the dark, it didn’t seem to get any closer or farther. Anton gave himself a moment to rest, his weak struggling leaving him concerningly breathless. He couldn’t tell how long it took for him to even breathe out again so he could try to move once more. His arms were uncomfortably heavy. With what little movement and focus he was capable of, he could somewhat feel plush yet stiff fabric under him. A bed, if he had to guess. Not his. His felt... different, though his thoughts were too muddied to articulate why. But if he was in a bed, then that must mean... This time, he tried to shift his neck, to wiggle his head about. His head began to tingle more, invisible pins prodding him ceaselessly. Thoroughly unpleasant, but he kept going, until he could feel the blanket over him shift off his face. Some of the darkness cleared away, revealing a dimly lit room. Something was still there, something he couldn't give a proper form to, even with the added bit of light. Directly above him, the bed's frame extended into a flat wooden canopy; a bunk bed. Certainly not his bed. So then, where- Fractured memories forced their way to the surface. The tingle at his skull shifted across his body, then gathered at the base of his neck. The numbness replaced itself with a dull ache, Anton hissed, sharply taking in air at the rising pain. The ruins. That thing . More ruins, a body, a powerful Bronzong. He screwed his eyes shut tight. They were both hurt, badly. And... then... he… "C-Cinder...?", he forced back an uncomfortable thought and a dry cough, calling out to her weakly. A few moments passed. No response. That was typical of her, of course he knew that, but that did nothing to settle the panic rising in his fogged brain. That thing slithering at the edge of his vision seemed to edge closer, yet he still couldn't see it directly. Still it was closing in, tunneling his sight. He called out again, a tremble creeping into his voice, “Cinder? P-please, can you say something…?” Much to his surprise, something rustled to his left. And spoke. "Taa? Tang ta?" Anton held his breath, heart caught in his throat. Even as that thing pulsed horribly, his eyes opened wide, and snapped to the bedside. Why. Why was she here. Why was she here with him. The silhouette of her vines were unmistakable. Ice coursed through his veins. Why. Why. Why. She got closer. She shouldn't have. As she neared, her features became more apparent. That uncomfortable thought from before forced itself forward, inescapable. Withered. Wilted. Crumbling. All her vines, black as death. He couldn't blink, couldn't stop staring at what shouldn't have been there. Death. He gasped, and he couldn't stop. Death. He couldn't take in enough air, yet his chest felt too full, ready to burst. Death. This couldn't be. She couldn't be.  "Y-You're not supposed-", Anton wheezed and choked, and he couldn't stop, "W-we're dead? You can't be, can't be-" How could she be dead. She loomed over him, as he lay there stunned. She shouldn't be dead. Buried in rot, her eyes were the only part intact, peering down at him. She was dead. She was dead. She was dead. Two spotlights squarely focused him. Dead.  "I-I did this. Did this to you? I... I..." One of her weathered hands reached over towards him. The smell of earth, and mildew, and charred meat -

Anton burst from the bed. Soreness swelled in his body as he twisted and toppled out from the foot of the bed. His shoulder struck the ground, pain ripped through his nerves. Involuntarily, his limbs curled around him, uselessly protecting him from what only continued to hurt him. It happened again. He let this happen, somehow. Anton trembled on the ground. That thing raked in his hair, digging into his scalp. Noise filled his ears, high, whining, shrilling, unbearable, unbearable, unbearable. Of course he wasn’t allowed to die in peace. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry… Please…" He buried his head into chest, blocking out what little light was able to reach him in this dark corner. Even knowing his breath was wasted, pointless in the face of his mistakes, he couldn't stop. "I'm sorry..." He couldn't stop. "I'm sorry...!" He just couldn't stop hurting them. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...!" That thing latched on his wrist. Firm and unrelenting. Just what more did it want to torment him with? Was this his punishment for being careless? For his mistakes? To be haunted over and over by his own failures… There could be no better hell for him. He choked on his frantic chants, struggling to squirm away. Another part of that thing captured his other wrist, fueling his desperation to escape. Garbled, distorted wails from it rattled him to his core. He couldn't let it take him, not again, not again, not again. Anton fought harder, he had to, he had to. He thrashed his arms any way he could, trying to get loose somehow . In what seemed like a glimmer of hope, the grip on his left wrist loosened for just a moment. He snatched the opportunity to lunge forward at the thing. His fist struck true, punching right on solid- "Augh!" A human shout. His newly freed arm was grasped once more. The moment that hand held him still, light returned to his sight and the fight was sapped from his body. Kneeled over him wasn't that thing , but a man.

The ragged looking man held a careful focus on Anton, arms held up firmly, placing just enough pressure to restrict any sudden movements. The man's voice rumbled warmly as he spoke, though his volume made Anton’s ears ring just a bit. "Everything is alright, you're safe here. Please try to breathe slowly, there’s no need to panic."  Only as attention was brought to it that Anton realized he was hyperventilating. Everything was also uncomfortably hot aside from the man's frigid hands on his arms. The chill was calming, comforting even, so he focused on that feeling as he controlled his breath. Burning lungs in his chest slowly cooled as time inched by. Detail of his surroundings faded in, no longer dark shapes or shadows playing around his vision. There was the bed he’d laid; a sturdy looking bunk frame with the sheets tossed about. The hearth at the room's center helped cast light where the small lanterns hung on the walls could not. Certainly an old styled home, fairly common to the surrounding area of Mt. Silver, a lot like Grandma's place. And... a Tangrowth. A normal, healthy one, but not his- his grandmother's. The vines were too long, and were a paler teal than Noodle's. They stood beside the foot of the bed, twiddling their hands together and looking at the scene with a worried look in their eyes.  That was... weird. None of that was real, surely, but his nightmares never felt that vivid, or lingered into his waking hours like that. And he’s certainly never fallen into a manic fit like that following them. Maybe it was stress. Stress with… whatever’s been happening, wherever he is. Anton turned his attention back to the stranger. Blood was smeared across his cheek. It was fresh and still dripping from his nose, onto the tunic under his dark snow speckled coat. He still held on to Anton, his hold now gentle enough for him to move freely if he wished, but Anton remained. That same red speckled his knuckles, Anton couldn’t help the twinge of guilt setting in. "I'm sor...", his apology caught in his throat. It seemed the adrenaline was seeping out of him, weakness coming back. The man shook his head in understanding, "It's quite alright. Here, let's get you off the ground. Are you able to move, or do you require assistance?" It took a second for Anton to process what he said, but then slipped his hands out of the stranger's. Slowly, he pushed his elbows against the ground until he could sit up. The soreness in his shoulder had spread down to his forearm. Pressing his back to the wall, he attempted to slide up while bracing his hands firmly. The second legs shook involuntarily, the stranger moved to catch Anton before he could drop. "Ah! Don't exhaust your engines, I shall assist you. If you would please, rest your arms on my shoulder, I will carry you." As the man kneeled, Anton noted his unusual manner of speech. And how significantly tall he was, at least a foot of height over Anton. The man seemed a bit odd overall, but not distrustful as far as Anton could tell. He did as directed, letting the man loop an arm under his knees, and the other at his back. Instinctively, Anton leaned into the man, the cold emanating from him helped dampen his overheated body. Looking down at himself, he noticed his work uniform was gone, replaced with a set of dark thermal wear. It seemed to fit quite loosely on him, he could only guess they belonged to the stranger. "You aren't hurt, are you?", the stranger asked. There was something funny about the guy with a full on bloody nose asking if he was okay, but Anton couldn't find the strength to laugh. Between his body being on fire, having him sweat enough to fill a pool, and the delirium of... whatever’s been happening to him, he frankly felt like shit. Utter shit, but alive. Anton gave a quiet grunt and motioned a slow “so-so” with his hand. The man's frown didn't so much as twitch, but his tone seemed a touch lighter, "I see. If you don't mind, I'd like to check your bandages. Your fever still seems quite high as well, so I'll give you some medicine to help keep it down." Anton attempted to speak again, with a little more success, "Th-thanks. I don't... really know what's hap..." Some passing nausea, he bit his tongue to keep it back before continuing. "Don't... know what's happening. Feel like I'm going crazy." The man set him down on the bed, making sure to adjust the pillow upright before releasing Anton gently. Unpleasant heat overtook him again at the loss of the man's chilled hands, but it thankfully seemed less intense than before. He stepped away from the bed and took to searching through a square chest beside the bed. From within, he retrieved a roll of thick gauze, a towel, mortar, and pestle. "I'm sure you must have some questions about your situation. I will admit, I'm not fully aware of your circumstances, but I shall try and help to the best of my ability. Brush?" With a few sharp motions of his hands, he wordlessly directed the Tangrowth. There was an itch at the back of Anton's head. Something about the way he moved struck him as familiar, but not just his movements. Was it his face? His eyes? It was just... something about his appearance was very familiar. But he couldn't pinpoint what exactly. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. It seemed as if that was its new hobby. This mystery man had taken to pulling up a stool and plugging up his nose with gauze while Anton was busy contemplating. His attention was beckoned back when handed a cloth to wipe his bloodied hand. Once cleaned, the man handed him an unmistakable pokeball. Nicks and scratches littered the top, built up over the years. "Here," the man offered, "Your partner has healed perfectly from your ordeal, she's been resting since you were brought here two days ago." There was a touch of hesitation before Anton accepted the pokeball. He ran a thumb over the topside, a tired grimace tugging at his lips. She never stayed inside the thing for long. She didn't like it. "We've been sleeping for two days?" The man was given a handful of assorted yellow berries by his Tangrowth, which he placed in the mortar. "Roughly, yes. I'm not aware of how long you were in disrepair prior to Warden Melli bringing you here. You've woken up a handful of times. Though the times were brief and you weren't very coherent, likely due to fever." The name and title he mentioned didn't Chimecho any bells, though it sounded like some ranger rank. Still, being out of commission for a few days was worrying. With that thought, Anton was hit with recalling the task that led to bringing him here in the first place. Anxiety seeped into Anton's voice, "Sorry, but do you have my Pokegear? I have to let someone know what happened." No doubt that Professor Elm was more than a little worried his messenger wasn't where he should be. Best to at least keep him informed, even if the cargo wasn't in his hands anymore.  The man paused his berry grinding for a moment, "Pokegear...? I'm not quite sure what that is, but perhaps it's along with your effects." Just how far into the mountains were they? Again, he signaled to his Tangrowth, pointing and making stiff, specific motions. That wasn't sign language, at least Anton was certain with the handful he'd picked up over the years. But it was... something, something he knew or had seen before, but he couldn't point to what.  The stranger's Tangrowth retrieved a pile sat beside the hearth, and set it on Anton's lap, to which he tried not to flinch. On top of the pile was the coat he had... taken. He set it aside for now. Underneath was a strange sight. The bottom layer was his missing uniform. Or what was left of it, at least. The thing was riddled in countless rips, tears and charred edges, the only thing that really told him what the scraps even were was the unmistakable bright blue fabric. And nestled on top of that wreck was... certainly a Pokegear set. The look of it was tacky yet decrepit; darkly colored and accented with golden, chipped prongs sticking out of the top and sides. It looked awfully cumbersome to hold but… it looked like that thing . Exactly like it. The same breaks and shapes as he remembered the thing having. He really didn't want to touch it.  He flipped the cover open to reveal the screen. It was on, that was a good sign. The entire screen was scrolling through a seemingly endless wall of gibberish text, that was not a good sign. He wasn't looking forward to fixing that. If he even could . "Ah, I see. I don't recall seeing a device like this before. Is it used for communication?", the stranger sounded intrigued as he transferred the berry mixture to an earthenware cup. It was difficult to imagine anyone between Johto or Kanto having not seen a set of Pokegear at all , even towards the most secluded areas of Mt. Silver. Either this man was entirely removed from society, or... something worse. He didn't want to dwell on that idea. "Well... it's broken right now," Anton closed it with a sigh, opting to take hold of the pokeball once more, "So I can't contact anyone right now. So that's. Fun." He sunk back into the pillow in defeat, wishing it would simply swallow him up. No Pokegear, borrowed clothes, sick and injured, in a stranger's bed... seas and skies, he was a mess.

The stranger handed Anton the berry mixture, the scent of citrus lingered in the cup, along with something else mellow he couldn't quite place. "Thank you. I'm... um, sorry if I've caused you trouble, but thank you for looking after me, Mister...?" The man's frown deepened a touch, the only shift in expression he'd really had at all. "It's really quite alright, I am always happy to help another in need," he paused for a moment, seeming to ruminate carefully on his next thought, "I apologize for not having introduced myself, I am Warden Ingo. I hope you don't mind me asking, but you are a newly recruited member of the Galaxy Team, are you not?" Anton buffered a moment, processing the question. A simple "Huh?" Was all that escaped him as he looked on at the man, Ingo, entirely puzzled. "I know I didn't recognize you from the regular members stationed at the Mt. Coronet base camp, although-" "Wait, that's in Sinnoh, isn't it?!", Anton may have dropped his cup with the way he shot up, were he not latched on to it with a tightened grip. Ingo brought a hand to his chin, clearly mulling over what to say as his eyes went between Anton and his pile of belongings. Did that thing really take us all the way to Sinnoh?  That's so far north..  If I try to book a flight  or a boat I don't even think I could cover a ticket…  "Do you… remember who you are," Ingo began, a deathly serious tone to him, "Or where you've come from?" Incredibly specific questions, enough to make Anton question them himself for a moment. He nodded, answering with certainty,  "I'm Anton Porter. I'm from the Johto region, I live in Goldenrod City. I've never heard of the Galaxy Team, so I don't know who or what they are." Ingo's eyes widened for a moment, shock and something else impossible to read mixed in there, "That's... good to hear. Er, good that you recall, not your displacement. Are you also aware how you were displaced? If you wouldn't mind telling me." "I..." He really didn't want to talk about that thing. At all. But he wasn't going to lie to this man, not after he looked after him and kept him alive. The least he could do was be honest. It could also help in getting him back home.  Anton explained what he saw to Ingo, to the best of his ability. Sips of the tart medicine between his story helped to ease his soreness and tame his heated body as he went on. He spoke of his favor to Gold, meeting up with Cynthia, the Sinnoh Champion's egg, and the ambush of Unknown. Ingo listened intently, letting Anton go at his own pace as he paused frequently for his throat's sake. When it came to that thing , he kept it brief. "I don't know if I could even call it a pokemon, I'd never seen anything like it. It was big and… just strange. It did something to me, I don't know what, but then it took us away to a cave with these… blocky stones?" At this, a spark of recognition lit Ingo's eyes, "Ah, I believe that to be the Ancient Quarry. It is located further down the mountain, though not a safe area for one to wander." Anton finished off his cup, puckering his cheek at the sour sting gathered at the bottom, though he was grateful his temperature had come down to more of a simmer. Playing back events in his head, Anton's stomach began to turn about as sour as his drink, "There was a body there, of someone. I thought he was just sleeping, but he wasn't. He had dark hair and he looked a bit older, I think, maybe late forties? I didn't really think about what I was doing, I just grabbed his jacket and put it on. To try and keep warm, I think." Looking over at the jacket, Ingo gave a low hum, "I see. I believe I know of the man you encountered. He was often in disagreement with his other scouts and their work ethic. The scouts stationed at the mountain camp were meant to return to Jubilife Village soon for the season but... I suppose that won't be the case." Again, his face didn't betray him, but the concern in his voice was genuine. "Sorry you had to find out like that." Ingo shook his head, "This part of the region is quite treacherous, especially around this time of year. It's unfortunate… but not an unexpected occurrence." Anton concluded his story, of being attacked by a powerful Bronzong, running off in a daze until he collapsed. "... And that's all I really remember. I'm guessing a while after that is when we were found by... Warden Melli, right?" Ingo seemed to agree, "He had mentioned finding you and your pokemon around Sonorous Path, around the mountain's midway point. My home isn't as far as his, and your condition was quite concerning, which is why he brought you here." At mention of injuries, Anton brought a hand to rest on the side of his chest. He certainly remembered the sensation of slamming into a wall and feeling something smash right there, but... at worst, all he could feel there now was a touch of soreness. Something about that didn't settle right with him. "How bad was it?" "The biggest concern was hypothermia; we suspected you were out in the storm that night for at least a couple hours before you were found. Your fever had only just broken before I left on a patrol earlier. Aside from illness, you had quite a few bruises and cuts, but luckily you're free of infection and everything seems to be healing just fine," Ingo listed off everything succinctly,  then glanced over to the medicine box, "Ah, speaking of it, I'd like to check up on those, if you find that agreeable." There was no good reason to refuse, though that strange itch about his condition still remained. "Sure, go ahead." Ingo was able to fully remove the patches over his face, ones Anton hadn't even realized had been placed. Underneath were barely visible scratches, to which Ingo seemed pleased, his features softening slightly as he said, "Bravo, the medicine seems to have worked effectively!"  Anton also felt himself easing up, between the medicine and Ingo's chilly hands, he was cooling down and left with less discomfort . The only sign of bruising that remained covered the left side of his arm and chest. The area stretched out to about the size of a textbook, though the skin was already starting to yellow and blend in. No broken or even cracked ribs, as far as Ingo noted. That was... good. Maybe he'd just imagined that in his daze. Or his memory was exaggerating the severity, it was a pretty high stress situation after all. Well, he supposed it didn't matter either way; he was alive, and he had other problems to deal with. "I really appreciate you taking care of me here, thank you," Anton continued to fiddle with her pokeball as he watched Ingo repack the medicine box, "If there's a Pokecenter nearby, I could try contacting a friend, maybe see if they can help me back home." "Pokecenter...?", the confused tilt of Ingo's head couldn't be a good sign, "I'm not aware of such a place in the Highland area, unfortunately." Fantastic, of course I'd be stuck out in the most remote mountain ever.  "However," Ingo continued with an optimistic lilt, "I could send a letter out to Lady Irida, she may be able to help you return to your proper station. It would be best for me to do so soon; the blizzards have already made regular travel out to the Icelands difficult, and they will only worsen until the season passes. Luckily, Eidol, my Gliscor, should be able to handle the roundtrip there within a week." 
A week... Gold'll be back home by then. I can count on him making big enough of a stink that'll get out to the middle of nowhere, even if I can't get to a Pokecenter. I guess waiting out here for a while can't be too bad. Could just be a little winter getaway. A break from home sounds nice.
 "That sounds good, thanks." Ingo finished storing things away neatly, now feeding his Tangrowth a spare sitrus berry left uncrushed as a treat. The Tangrowth giggled as he indulged in his snack, clearly enjoying himself. With a gentle pat on the vines, Ingo turned back to Anton, "I shall get started right away then. I would suggest that you continue to rest and recover in the meantime, you've had quite the difficult journey here." Anton had little to argue against; even before starting his lengthy story his eyelids felt denser than lead, and only got heavier as time marched on. He managed to mumble out a drowsy, "'Kay, thanks" before slinking back on his pillow, pokeball still clutched firmly. Oh, what he would give to knock out this easy on a regular day. Before drifting off, he caught a satisfied chuckle from Ingo, and a soft, "Rest well, dear passengers."

Lady Irida, I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you now, both to report on activity here in the highlands and to make a request of you, if I may. First and foremost, I feel it necessary to report the death of the Galaxy Expedition Team member Seta. By this time, I will have informed the members stationed at the mountain camp. As requested, I've done my utmost to maintain a good relationship with the scouting party, and dearly hope the team will recover from their loss. There has been a notable increase of "space-time distortions”, as dubbed by the Galaxy Team's researcher, appearing in the area. I've had several close calls with abnormally powerful pokemon that suddenly appear within these fields, though I have managed to take one such pokemon during a recent return from the coastlands. The pokemon is a mostly mechanical being, which is what initially drew me to it; I felt a sense of familiarity with it. I was able to parse the species, from somewhere in my fragmented memory. Though I have not recovered much beyond that information, I am glad to have made another companion during my time here. Lastly, I've come across a man with a concerning situation. His name is Anton, he's come from the Johto region under highly unusual circumstances. He is currently under my care, as he's experienced a difficult journey here resulting in his poor health, though his condition has improved significantly under my care. I fear that he may have been set on similar tracks to mine, due to his odd circumstances. At the very least his memories appear intact, being able to remember where he came from and roughly how he arrived here. If possible, I would appreciate your assistance in guiding him back to his proper destination. I hope that everyone remains well and healthy with you at the settlement, and I look forward to hearing from you again. -Warden Ingo