Borne of Caution

Act 2: Chapter 32

Eyes of red, piercing as can be.

Mantle of gold, majestic as can be.

A fanged mouth speaking, damning as can be.

In a void of neither light nor dark.

The great maw of teeth opens once more, inhuman lips forming words meant for he alone.

It says unto him –

Lee’s eyes shoot open before he hears a single word, as always. His heart is racing as he stares up at the plain ceiling of his temporary room in the Draconid hut. ‘Fuck. It always cuts off before I can hear what it has to say.’

He doesn’t sit up quite yet, content to let his pulse settle under the blanket of golden tails courtesy of Ninetales, who is still asleep next to him. Instead, he takes time to gather his thoughts and form a plan for the day.

For nearly six weeks he, Brendan, and Zinnia have been down here, training their pokemon day in and day out. Each one of their pokemon have grown leaps and bounds, aided by the seething Dragon TE permeating the air within the cavern. Lee has to admit that he was skeptical at first, but the results thus far speak for themselves. Nine has to have broken into the realms of the Elite by now, with Corvi and Grovyle only a few steps behind.

Eventually, though, Lee begins to grow restless and slides out from under his furry coverings, letting Nine sleep for a bit longer. Changing into some day clothes, Lee quietly slips out of his room and into the common area of the hut, finding both Zinnia and Brendan already awake.

In one of the hand-stuffed chairs, Zinnia sits with her head leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, her cloak draped over her like a blanket, her face lost in thought. What the Lorekeeper could be thinking about, Lee isn’t sure. The unknown trial that Taxus may spring on them any day, perhaps?

At her side rests Shelgon, who acknowledges Lee with a glance. The petals of Shelgon’s namesake shell have been slowly peeling back over the last few weeks, little by little. His gray skin has also been transitioning into a gentle blue. It won’t be long before Shelgon evolves into a Salamence, a dragon revered and feared all over Hoenn.

On the couch, Brendan lounges with his Latias, both of them sitting calmly with their eyes closed, likely speaking telepathically.

Brendan has made it apparent in the past that he doesn’t care for telepathy - at least not between himself and Ninetales. That said, the boy isn’t the sort to let a new and useful tool go unused, and Latias has the proper talent for the art of telepathy. Each day, for a few minutes each morning, he and Latias connect and attempt to speak, trying to get used to the unusual contact. Both of them have taken Lee and Nine’s warnings about prolonged contact seriously, and Lee can’t help but find himself proud of Brendan’s diligence on the matter.

Latias herself has taken an absolute shine to Brendan, and despite his reservations at first, the boy has grown to cherish her as much as he does his other pokemon. Brendan’s approval made way for Marshtomp’s, and before long, Latias was slotted into the team like she'd been there since day one.

Zinnia takes notice of Lee and smirks. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. You’re the last one to get up. Finally starting to slack off on us?”

“I sleep under a cover of genuine Ninetales fluff - that would knock anyone out.” Lee raises his nose as if he is talking to a peasant. “Besides…” He glances at a clock on the wall. “It’s not even 9 o’clock.”

“Yeah, but you’re the cook around here, so it’s your duty to get up first,” Zinnia shoots back, pointing an accusing finger.

Lee crosses his arms and leans on the wall. “I’m sure you could have cooked up something for yourself if you weren’t busy brooding.” After a moment of silence, he continues. “Something on your mind? You’ve been out of sorts for a few days now.”

The question draws Brendan and Latias out of their pseudo-meditation, Brendan looking at Zinnia with concern as well.

Zinnia opens her mouth to answer, only to stop and consider her words. After another false start, she lets out a sigh, seeming exhausted despite the early hour. “I’ve been… thinking about going to Aster’s grave,” she finally admits, averting her eyes. “I haven’t been since she died, and I wanted to visit before we left, to tell her everything that’s going on before things really begin to take off. I dunno if I believe in the afterlife and all that, but I’d like to pretend that she hears me.”

‘Not since her death?’

“…You don’t want to go alone, do you?” Lee murmurs his realization aloud.

Still looking down, Zinnia shakes her head.

“We’d be happy to go with you,” Brendan jumps in, a small smile on his face. “I’d love to meet her. I gotta at least tell her she made a great choice in picking you for the new Lorekeeper.”

Try as she might to remain dour, Zinnia smiles. “Brendan, give it a few years and we’re going to have to beat the girls off you with a stick. I want to do this before I lose my nerve, so how about we have breakfast and head out?”

And they do just that; Lee rouses Ninetales with a poke to her mind, and she sleepily trots into the room with Lee’s pokeball-laden belt in her teeth. Brendan and Zinnia likewise let their teams out, and after everyone is fed and ready, they head outside, and all of the pokemon except Lee’s Corviknight, Brendan’s Latias, and Zinnia’s Noivern are returned to their balls.

“Ready for your first solo flight, kiddo?” a grinning Zinnia asks Brendan as she helps him saddle-up Latias.

“I’ve been flying; I took my flying license test on Corviknight a week ago,” Brendan grumbles, already looking a bit green around the gills.

“Flying on a bird is way different from flying on a Dragon!” Zinnia exclaims, gesturing to Latias, who watches the goings-on with nervous yellow eyes. “A big metal bird may as well be an airplane!”

Off to the side, Lee sits on Corvi’s back, already mounted up and ready to go. The giant crow clicks his tongue as he listens to Zinnia.

“Don’t listen to the adrenaline junkie, Corvi.” Lee pats his mount’s wing, watching as Brendan unsurely climbs onto Latias’ back, making the hovering dragon dip a few inches. “She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

Despite knowing that the saddle on Latias was hand-made by a tribe of dragon tamers and should theoretically stand up to just about anything, Lee can’t help but be a little anxious on Brendan’s behalf.

Latias is fast.

Brendan’s newest pokemon is a proper and powerful legendary, and that was made extremely apparent to everyone once they did some inter-team sparring. Latias eclipses damn near every other pokemon between them when it comes to raw power, and the only thing holding her back is her lack of combat experience. Of Lee’s pokemon, only Ninetales and Sylveon are able to properly stand up to Latias.

‘Latias has to be propelling herself with a positively ridiculous amount of Psychic TE, possibly with Flying TE mixed in. I really hope Brendan doesn’t get sick or get blown off of Latias’ back. The second one would be really hard to explain to Nigel…’

‘If Latias has any sense, she’s holding onto Brendan with telekinesis,’ Ninetales chimes in, watching through Lee’s eyes.

‘We can only hope.’

Once Brendan is situated, Zinnia climbs onto the back of her Noivern, who is also sporting a Draconid-made saddle. “Lee, Brendan, stay on Noivern’s tail, and don’t get left behind! Fly, girl!”

Noivern takes to the air with a screech and a flap of leathery wings. Latias follows, and Corvi brings up the rear.

Zinnia and Noivern rise, taking them out of the crater and up above the plateau into the biting, early-autumn wind. Lee silently curses himself for not taking the ten seconds to get his scarf out, already knowing his face is going to be wind burned by the time they land.

The group cuts a wide turn, banking south and heading towards a low part of the plateau devoid of any Dragon nests. Once they level out, Lee gazes ahead of him at Latias and Brendan, nodding in satisfaction that Brendan is still securely on his dragon’s back.

The flight only takes about twenty minutes, and Zinnia mercifully directs Noivern to come in for a gentle, gradual landing rather than a dive like Lee was half expecting. One after the other, the group touches down several dozen yards away from a stretch of barren ground covered in mossy stones with an equally mossy hill flanking its western side.

Slowly lowering herself off of Noivern’s back, Zinnia takes a deep breath and stares at the field of stones with trepidation.

Beside her, Brendan shakily dismounts Latias as Lee does the same with Corvi. Taking in the flat ground, a chilling sensation runs down Lee’s back, and he realizes what the rocks jutting out of the ground are.

Stepping a bit closer to one, Lee kneels down and wipes away the dirt and moss clinging to the stone, finding a flat face bearing the scratchy characters of the Draconid script staring back. “So this is the place?”

Zinnia nods, evidently unable to find her voice.

The trio return each of their flyers to their balls, then Brendan and Lee closely flank Zinnia as she leads them to the hill in the distance.

As they walk, Lee looks around, taking in the graveyard with more scrutiny. ‘The headstones are arranged in twos, threes, fours… Are the trainers and their pokemon buried together?’

A short chill not wholly his own rolls in Lee’s gut, and he places a hand over Nine’s ball.

The short walk takes them to the foot of the hill where a jagged stone roughly 4 feet high sticks out of the ground. Like the others, moss has begun to claim it, but the growth hasn’t yet climbed up far enough to obscure the scratchy writing.

Zinnia lays a hand on the stone, falling silent. Her face cycles through emotions so quickly that Lee can barely keep track, but she eventually settles on deep grief. The expression is so alien on her usually-smiling face that Lee is taken aback.

“Hi, Aster,” Zinnia murmurs, rubbing her thumb over the inscription upon the stone. “I’m sorry for not visiting. Hell, I barely mustered up the nerve to come here. It still feels so strange to me that you… aren’t here.” Zinnia gulps heavily. “It almost feels like a dream - a bad one. Nothing seems real, standing here.”

Brendan takes one of Zinnia’s hands, and Lee leans closer, pressing his shoulder to hers.

The contact eases the pale pallor on Zinnia’s face, and she resumes speaking. “I’ve been doing all I can as Lorekeeper, but I’ll be damned if I don’t have big shoes to fill,” she says with a weak chuckle. “Bagon evolved about half a year ago, and he’s almost ready to evolve again - so close that it’ll be any day now. From Bagon to Salamence in under a year; isn’t that something? I thought you and your Salamence were a bit crazy to give me Sala’s first egg, but he’s doing his dad proud.”

‘Aster’s Salamence is Shelgon’s father?’ Lee files the interesting tidbit away for later. ‘So Shelgon is only around four years old.’

‘Considering most dragons have a decade between each evolution, Shelgon’s growth is extraordinary,’ Ninetales chimes in, her words heard only by Lee.

“We wouldn’t have gotten there alone, though.” Zinnia smiles thinly and puts an arm around Brendan and Lee’s shoulders each. “Aster, meet Lee and Brendan - my best friends.” She pauses for a beat. “After you, of course.”

Lee can’t withhold an amused snort, but Brendan rolls with it, a smile on his face.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Aster!” Brendan addresses the gravestone cheerfully. “I think I’ve liked everything I’ve heard about you, and I’m kinda sad that we’ll never talk face-to-face. I just wanted to say that you made a great choice in a new Lorekeeper. Zinnia is like the sister I never had, so I see exactly what you saw in her too.”

Once Brendan is done, Lee speaks up as well. “The love Zinnia had—has—for you is quite apparent every time she talks about you, Aster,” Lee begins quietly. “It reminds me of my own late mentor, who set me on the path I’m on today. Did you know Zinnia started traveling with me and Brendan because I reminded her of you?” Lee shakes his head with a small smile. “That’s a compliment to me if I’ve ever heard one. I think we would have been good friends, you and I, judging from all the fantastic qualities you passed to Zinnia.”

A sniffle interrupts Lee before he can say anything more, and looking down at Zinnia, Lee finds her eyes watery and her mouth set into a wobbly smile. “You two…” She says nothing more, pulling both into a tight hug.

Lee wraps an arm over Zinnia’s shoulders as Brendan hugs her around the middle. For a moment, they simply stand together like that, and warmth seeps into Lee’s core.

It feels as if his little family has grown a bit bigger today.

Zinnia’s trembling shoulders begin to still, and she blinks the tears from her eyes with a final sniffle. Her red eyes trail down to the brown cloak over her shoulders, and Lee follows her gaze.

The ragged, brown cloak is something Zinnia has always kept close, for she’s only ever taken it off to bathe, clean it, or if she was otherwise forced to. It’s precious to her, as anyone can see.

‘What prompted this sudden inspection?’

Zinnia gently pries herself free from Brendan and Lee and, after a moment of hesitation, reaches up to the collar of her cloak and unties it. The cloth comes free, and Zinnia heavily steps forward to drape it onto Aster’s gravestone.

“I think it’s time I gave this back to you, Aster,” Zinnia whispers, tying the neck strap and stepping back, letting the cloak flutter in the plateau breeze. “I don’t need it anymore.”

‘Oh…’

All three of them stand and stare at the gravestone for a moment, the only sound being the returned cloak fluttering in the wind, and Zinnia’s pokeballs slowly shaking on their magnetic clips.

‘Do you mourn too, Shelgon?’ Ninetales wonders as Lee glances at Zinnia’s pokeballs. ‘Were our places traded, I would.’

With a tired sigh, Zinnia rubs her arms, as if to ward away a chill.

“Do you want my jacket, Zinnia?” Lee can’t help but offer. “It is kind of chilly up here.”

Zinnia’s reply is a short laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks, Dolittle. Don’t bust out any charm on me, or your fox will get jealous.”

‘I’m not so petty…’ Ninetales grumbles with only Lee to hear.

Lee lets out a half-laugh, half-exhale and smiles. “Okay, but if you change your mind, tell me. I’m not bothered by the cold.”

Oh, and how true that is. Over the last month, he and Ninetales have been practicing with their unusual bond to furret out all the secrets they can. One interesting, if only situationally useful, thing they discovered is that Ninetales can shunt Fire TE into Lee, warming his entire body.

‘But now that you have a good foundation for Fairy TE and can extend your tails with it, I still think a tail-tent or a tail-cocoon is better for keeping warm,’ Lee sends to Ninetales.

Ugh. Fairy TE. What a headache that stuff is. TE already breaks physics, but Lee’s now-grizzled inner scientist still nearly had a heart attack when he realized that Fairy TE runs off of pure belief and nothing else. Ninetales can use it to extend her tails because of course she should be able to do that.

Fairies run off of ork magic. No wonder Fairy experts can’t explain how their favorite type works. How do you explain “it just works”to someone and expect them to take it at face value?

At least the realization has made training Sylveon easier…

Before Lee can get caught in a spiral of loathing for Fairy TE’s flagrant disregard of the natural world, one of Zinnia’s pokeballs wobbles furiously, then pops open, making everyone jump in surprise.

In a flash, Shelgon materializes at Zinnia’s feet.

“Shelgon?” Zinnia blinks in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

The armor-bound dragon growls, looking past Zinnia and into the sky behind her.

As one, the trio of trainers turn, following Shelgon’s gaze.

In the distance flying towards them is a Dragapult, a Garchomp, and a Dragonite, all of them with the sun to their backs. Through the light, silhouettes of riders can be seen astride each dragon.

‘The Draconid Elders,’ Lee realizes, narrowing his eyes. ‘What are they doing here?’

‘Perhaps the day has come for the test Taxus insists upon.’ Ninetales watches the Elders begin their descent through Lee’s eyes. ‘Unless they all collectively decided today was the day to pay respects to the honored dead.’

Trepidation wells up in Lee, but Ninetales is quick to soothe it. ‘Worry not, Beloved,’ she says gently. ‘We’ve risen to new and fantastic heights, and I’m confident we can handle whatever it is they ask of us.’

‘You’re right…’ Lee takes a deep breath as the Elders land a dozen yards away and dismount. ‘We can do it.’

“Elders,” Zinnia tersely greets as Taxus, flanked by Juniper and Danae, approaches. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Such a prickly attitude is unbecoming, Thelban,” Taxus says, clicking his tongue. He looks between Zinnia and Aster’s grave, his eyes lingering on the cloak wrapped around the stone. “The time has come to test your worth. It is fortuitous that you are here, for this solemn place is where your foe resides.”

Zinnia’s eyes narrow. “Here? In a graveyard?” she asks, panning her gaze around. “What, going to sic a Ghost on us?”

Taxus ignores her and continues on, though his severe scowl deepens. “You three wish for Draconid treasures, and treasures you shall have… should you pass the coming trial. Naraikvejor!” he barks, addressing both Brendan and Lee. “Present your Grovyle and Marshtomp.”

Lee and Brendan reach for their belts, and in twin flashes, Grovyle and Marshtomp stand in front of their trainers with stony faces.

“For this test most important, we would ask to hold the rest of your pokeballs for safekeeping…” Danae’s face looks as if he’s sucking a lemon, going along with all of this. “This is a trial for the holders of the treasures, and only the holders of the treasures. We mean no insult, but…”

“You don’t want someone jumping in if things get heated,” Lee finishes with a frown.

“I understand, but I don’t like it…” Brendan is the first to comply, reluctantly handing the rest of his team to Danae, who takes the balls with him.

Before Lee can do the same, Ninetales’s ball wobbles before bursting open, letting the vixen out. Once she finishes materializing, Lee’s pokeballs float off of his belt, held by Nine’s telekinesis.

‘If it is all the same,’ Ninetales coolly begins, projecting her thoughts out to everyone around and causing more than one person to tense up, ‘then I will observe in-person and retain custody of the team,’ she says, practically daring them to object.

Taxus opens his mouth to do just that, but Juniper beats him to the punch.

“If you so wish, Naraikvejor Ninetales, but let it be known that interference will not be tolerated,” Juniper warns, prompting her sleepy-looking Dragonite to stand up straighter.

Zinnia is the last to surrender her pokeballs, and does so with a scowl on her face. “We could have avoided this song and dance if you had just trusted me and sided with Danae, ya know,” she grinds out, dropping four pokeballs into Juniper’s hands.

The old woman looks away, age-bleached locks hiding her eyes. “I needed to know that you were ready. My wish is to not bar your way, but to not bury another child, O Granddaughter. Would you begrudge me so?” she whispers.

Zinnia sucks in a breath and turns away herself. “Granny, there is too much at stake to worry about that.”

Juniper closes her shaking hands around Zinnia’s pokeballs without answering.

“If you’ve any final preparations to make, do so now,” Taxus orders. When no one moves, he nods sharply. “We shall begin immediately, then.” With that, he turns towards Aster’s grave. “Defeat the coming foe as if your life depends on it.”

Raising his hands above his head, Taxus begins to speak the guttural tongue of the Draconids. “O unar vak'thoz vulden, ma yirn tuk zenvok. Fenrok tu zerak, vaz krelki or'nad fruv vor rokam. Zhex mazz fo ur vaz tazhn!” he exclaims, his eyes bulging and voice rising into a roar.

‘What's he doing? Who is he talking to?’ Lee wonders, his gut sinking.

Taxus lowers his arms as he speaks the final word, and the graveyard falls into a tense quiet.

Then, the hill behind Aster’s grave begins to shake.

No, the hill behind Aster’s grave begins to stand up.

The moss on the hill blackens and smolders as the air grows hot and dry.

Four stout legs ending in razor claws lift the hill up, as a tail as thick as a tree lifts and slams into the ground, shaking the entire plateau and cratering the rock beneath it.

The smoking moss flakes away, and from under the burning greenery, a pair of red reptile wings unfold.

Finally, a head on a long neck rises, and a pair of bloodshot eyes snap open to stare damningly at all of them.

“No… No way…” Zinnia's eyes go wide as she watches. Her legs wobble, and she actually falls to her knees, staring at the emerging behemoth with disbelief. “I thought he died with Aster,” she chokes out, each word wounded.

Lee can’t help but take a step back as Grovyle fearlessly jumps in front of him, glowing Siphon Blade at the ready. Craning his head back, Lee looks up at the monster before them.

Glaring at them is a gigantic Salamence. No, gigantic is underselling it. The beast is the size of a house and radiates so much heat that Lee’s throat is going dry. Each leg could stomp a person flat, and the Salamence’s jaws would bite a man in half with room to spare.

Lee’s eyes travel down.

The Salamence’s ribs are showing through his skin, and his scales are dull with malnutrition, painting a horrifying image.

“Zinnia?” Brendan asks, his words shaking. “Is this who I think it is?”

The Lorekeeper wordlessly nods, her eyes fixed to the gargantuan dragon.

‘Aster’s Salamence…’ Lee realizes with a sharp intake of breath. ‘He was lying down long enough for moss to grow on him… Has he been lying there since she was put to rest?!’ Lee can scarcely believe it and shakes his head.

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“Force these hatchlings from the nest, O Marred One,” Taxus murmurs, his words uncharacteristically gentle and reverent. “Prove to us your partner’s wisdom.”

The Salamence wordlessly rears his wings back, and Lee winces when the air pressure sharply drops, popping his ears.

Then Salamence throws his wings forward.

Lee can’t even yelp as a hurricane of howling wind and dust consumes the graveyard. A thrill of panic overtakes everything else when his feet leave the ground.

‘Lee!’

Even Ninetales’ distress is drowned out by the sudden storm.

Tumbling end over end, Lee tries to open his eyes and see what is going on, only to hiss and screw them shut when sand flies into them.

As quickly as it came, the hurricane passes, and Lee lets out a cough when he lands hard on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Beside him, Brendan and Zinnia also gracelessly fall with grunts, as do their pokemon. The only one to land on their feet is Grovyle, who keeps his glowing blade and narrowed eyes ready the entire time.

‘Lee! Lee! Answer me! Are you okay?!’ Ninetales urgently asks.

‘I’m fine, Nine,’ he sends back, receiving Nine’s relief in reply. Scrambling to his feet, Lee looks around and-

“What the fuck?” He can’t stop the words as he looks in the distance towards another plateau, where the Elders, their dragons, and Ninetales all stand as dots. He looks around, and the graveyard is gone. “We’re on another plateau?”

Brendan and Zinnia both stand up, as do Marshtomp and Shelgon. “Seems so.” Brendan winces and rubs the back of his head.

“That was Whirlwind, or it looked like it.” Zinnia brushes dirt off of herself. The sound of wings makes her look up, her expression morphing into alarm. “Move!”

Trainer and pokemon alike all leap backward when Aster’s Salamence slams into the ground where they once stood, shattering the rocky ground and throwing chips of stone all around.

Zinnia lowers the arm she was using to shield her face and stares at the massive dragon with hurt. “Sala…”

The Salamence doesn’t heed his name being called. Instead, he snarls and roars.

All of them flinch at the ear shattering noise and blast of hot wind. The force of the roar is so great, that each of them needs to lean forward or be thrown to their rear.

All of them sans Shelgon, that is.

Shelgon steps forward without a hint of fear, roaring with just as much ferocity as his father. As he meets Salamence’s challenge head-on, Shelgon’s shell begins to peel back before the eyes of the watching trainers. Half an inch, two inches, six inches.

Then, Shelgon begins to glow a brilliant white.

Shelgon’s metallic armor explodes off of his body as wings sprout from his back. His body swells with muscle, growing to twice its size and then some. A long tail and equally long neck sprout from rear and front. From the neck comes a flat head, flanked by three fins on each side and a maw filled with dagger teeth.

When the glow fades, a second Salamence has taken Shelgon’s place.

“He did it!” Zinnia’s joy is barely audible over the draconic shouting match. “Shelgon evolved! I knew he could do it!”

That joy dies a swift death when Aster’s Salamence’s throat glows emerald green.

“Salamence, move!” Zinnia orders.

Salamence aborts his roar, stretches his wings, and flies up just in time. A second later, an impossibly bright Dragon Breath shoots from the elder dragon’s mouth, turning the ground into hissing, sputtering lava.

Both Lee and Grovyle step back, and Lee has to turn away, as the glow of the newly made lava patch is blinding. “Zinnia, what's the plan here!?”

“Try and keep him off balance so Salamence can get some hits in for now!” she barks back, her eyes fixed on her dragon. “Poor Sala looks half dead, but this isn’t going to be easy! Not by a longshot!”

“Support, got it!” Brendan forces a smile and a thumbs up. “You heard her, bud!” he says to Marshtomp. “Ice Beam!”

Marshtomp grins a nasty grin and opens his mouth, charging a blue ball of energy.

Lee and Grovyle meet eyes. “Swords Dance, then get up there and show him your Rock Tomb.”

Grovyle closes his eyes and focuses, blue, sword-like flashes of raw energy manifesting around him. Taking a deep breath, the swords diffuse into wisps that Grovyle breathes in. Seen only by Lee, Grovyle’s muscles grow tense.

‘Sala’, meanwhile, totally disregards Grovyle and Marshtomp, instead rising into the air to chase down his son. Despite his bulk and emaciation, the elder dragon moves like a fighter jet, rushing down Salamence with vapor tails on his wings.

Salamence throws himself out of the way, blasting Sala with his own Dragon Breath for the trouble. The emerald flames wash over Sala’s hide, leaving only minor scorches.

Marshtomp laughs and looses his Ice Beam, sending jagged flashes of cryo-energy into the air right at Sala.

The dragon glances down and snorts, seemingly insulted. He opens his maw, and a white-hot Flamethrower shoots out without any delay, swallowing Ice Beam with ease and coming down upon Marshtomp like a meteor.

Marshtomp’s eyes shoot open, and he swaps Ice Beam with a hasty Water Gun, only for Sala’s Flamethrower to plow through it and flash every drop into steam.

‘Shit! Water-type or not, that’ll be the last of Marshtomp if that hits!’ Lee’s eyes widen. “Grovyle, save Marshtomp!”

The gecko pokemon lights up with a crackling white mantle of Quick Attack, then turns into a green blur that tackles Marshtomp out of the way of Flamethrower with inches to spare.

The flames bathe the ground a split second after the save, and another pool of lava is burned into the rocky ground.

‘Arceus, this is Mega Camerupt all over again!’ Lee complains to himself. ‘This might even be worse. I’m not seeing how power like that can be a trick. It's the real deal.’

“Oh man…” Brendan fixes his eyes on the bubbling patch of molten rock. “Thanks Lee, good save!”

Lee blows out a sigh. “No prob.”

“Guys, some help, please!” Zinnia angrily orders. “Chit-chat later! Salamence! Dive down!”

‘Right, need to focus. Mega-stones are riding on this.’ Lee turns his attention back to Grovyle. “In the air! Quick Attack into Rock Tomb!”

Grovyle explodes off the ground with a white trail streaking behind him, passing Salamence as he goes. A boulder the size of his own body materializes in his claws with a swirl of particulate, and with a grunt, he hurls it at Sala, who is diving after Salamence.

Sala’s head shines white in what Lee recognizes as Headbutt. ‘There is no way he’s going to-!’

The titanic Salamence takes the super effective move right to the head and barrels through without so much as a wince.

Grovyle’s Quick Attack flares and he shoots to the side to get out of Sala’s way as the dragon comes down, but an opportunistic flick of Sala’s tail catches Grovyle right in his stomach with a loud wack!

Every bit of air is knocked out of Grovyle as he shoots towards the ground like a cannonball.

“Quick Attack, stop yourself!” Lee desperately orders, balling his fists up and hoping Grovyle can hear him.

Grovyle grits his teeth, white energy bursting from his body and forcefully arresting his momentum, turning a debilitating crash into a manageable fall. Flipping through the air, Grovyle lands on his feet with a grimace, his stomach already beginning to bruise.

“Salamence, Dragon Claw!” Zinnia is quick to go on the offensive again. “Stop him!”

Salamence swoops low to the ground and flies back up, colliding with Sala in a deadly ball of gnashing teeth and ripping claws. Somehow, Sala remains both airborne and able to fight off the smaller dragon.

“He needs to be grounded ASAP, or Grovyle and Marshtomp are going to be too limited to make a significant difference,” Brendan says, watching Sala and Salamence clash midair. A few feet away, Marshtomp waits for a clear shot, Ice Beam already charged in his mouth.

The pair of dragons snap at each other, but Sala clearly has the advantage. The older dragon has more strength, more reach, and knows how to use his body, unlike the freshly-evolved Salamence. It's like watching a robin tangle with a falcon.

“Easier said than done,” Zinnia grimly replies, her eyes glued to the fight and waiting to order a disengagement.

“Grovyle,” Lee begins, turning to the Grass-type.

The reptile practically reads Lee’s mind and shoots back into the air, circling around to Sala’s back. Another Rock Tomb grows in Grovyle’s hand before he thrusts the boulder at Sala’s wings.

Sala hazards a look over his shoulder, and just before Rock Tomb can hit, his wings stiffen and shine with the sheen of Steel Wing. The boulder shatters into pieces on the metallic appendages, doing nothing.

Then through the dust of Rock Tomb, a long, leaf-like blade coated in caustic Dark TE slashes right at the joint of Sala’s red wings.

“Yes! Good hit Gro-” Lee’s celebration is cut short as he watches the sneak attack land.

Grovyle’s Night Slash skitters off of the wing joint like a knife dragged down a steel plate, throwing sparks and leaving only a tiny line of red.

Grovyle himself is so flummoxed by the ineffective attack that he’s nearly struck by Sala’s Steel Wing when the dragon grunts and thrusts his back out. Only a hasty flare of Quick Attack pulls Grovyle out of harm’s way, where he falls back to the ground.

“Damn it all!” Zinnia curses as she sees Grovyle’s attack barely do anything. “Salamence, get out of there!”

High above, Salamence snarls and thrashes against his father’s hold. It takes all of the younger’s strength, but he frees himself from Sala’s claws with a number of cuts for his trouble.

The split second before Salamence drops away, Brendan makes his play. “Marshtomp, fire!” He orders.

Marshtomp’s crackling Ice Beam flies, three-fourths of the way to its target by the time Salamence is clear.

Sala turns and sees the writhing lance of blue, but it's too late. He twists and takes the beam to his side.

For the first time in the fight, Sala lets out a noise of pain, and it's only a mere growl.

Ice Beam splashes across Sala’s scales, covering them in short-lived frost that melts away in seconds, leaving behind a patch of blackened, frostbitten scales.

‘A double super-effective hit, and that's all we got from it?’ Lee grimaces. He’s almost tempted to ask Ninetales for advice, but stays the thread of thought that wants to reach out.

The Elders don’t want outside interference, and he doubts gestalts get a technical pass. He still feels Nine’s persistent worry, however.

None of them are given any chance to follow up on Marshtomp’s successful attack, as Sala rushes to the ground with a flap of his wings. Landing heavily and rumbling the ground, he rushes down Marshtomp with a livid roar.

“Rock Slide!” Brendan doesn’t stay stunned by the dragon’s speed for long and orders a counter.

Marshtomp jams his hands into the ground, and with a grunt and a heave, upends the earth between him and the charging Sala. The rocky ground explodes into jagged stones and heavy rocks, all bearing down on Sala with intent to maim.

Sala growls once more, not letting his focus on Marshtomp slip for a second. As he runs headfirst into the barrage of stones, he sucks in a deep breath and lets out an earth-shattering Roar.

The blast of sound and air blows a wide void through Rock Slide, letting Sala charge through without being hit by so much as a pebble.

“Grovyle!” Lee calls, hoping to save Marshtomp.

“Salamence!” Zinnia barks, having the same thought.

Both pokemon, however, are a hair too slow, as Sala’s head shoots forward, his jaws wrapping around one of Marshtomp’s arms.

Cra-cra-crack!

The sound of Marshtomp’s arm breaking like a dry twig is loud, even over the remnants of Rock Slide crashing to the ground, but Marshtomp doesn’t so much as flinch. No, instead, he bellows in anger and throws a savage Mega Punch crackling with fury into Sala’s jaw with his free arm.

The dragon winces from the blow that would have brought a house down and twists his neck, making to throw Marshtomp away.

In reply, Marshtomp drives his free fingers into the ground and grips the plateau with everything he has, gritting his teeth and stopping Sala in his place.

Sala growls and yanks on the broken arm in his teeth, only getting a grunt from Marshtomp.

“Guys, disable him now before Marshtomp gives out!” Brendan urges.

“Rock Tomb!”

“Dragon Claw!”

Grovyle and Salamence charge at their trainer’s orders. Grovyle rushes and leaps onto Sala’s back, forming a boulder in his grasp as he does so. With a cry, he smashes Rock Tomb right into the slowly bleeding wing joint he cut earlier, forcing the wound open further with blunt trauma. Then he leaps away as Salamence comes down like a dropped anvil, landing on Sala’s back. Salamence roars as he jams his red-and-blue claws into the wound Grovyle made, savaging everything he can.

Sala’s eyes bulge, then narrow in hate. He tugs Marshtomp again, pulling the mudfish’s hand out of the ground, then he bucks wildly, throwing Salamence to the ground.

The damage, however, is done. Sala’s left wing is limp, but rather than chase Grovyle and Salamence, he instead turns his rage to Marshtomp, intent on finishing off the foe he caught before taking another.

Sala raises his head, then slams Marshtomp into the ground like a ragdoll.

Again.

And again.

And again.

“Marshtomp, no!” Brendan reaches a helpless hand out, his face stricken.

Grovyle and Salamence rush in to help, but Sala whirls around with deceptive speed. He uses the barely-conscious Marshtomp like a flail and smacks Grovyle aside. Sala’s tail, meanwhile, coated in the cloak of Dragon Tail, smashes right into Salamence’s skull, knocking the younger dragon for a loop.

Finally, Sala releases Marshtomp, throwing the bloodied and brutalized Water-type to Brendan’s feet in an unconscious heap.

“Quick Attack, move in and flank!” Lee dares only spend a second looking away from Sala as Grovyle and Salamence start the fight anew, and he cringes when he sees the shape Marshtomp is in.

The poor starter’s right arm is entirely purple and twisted, and the rest of his body is covered in countless contusions and lacerations. Lee is betting Marshtomp has a few broken ribs with how labored his breathing is, a feat considering just how damn tough Brendan’s first pokemon is.

Brendan himself looks as if he’s been stabbed in the heart, his face screwed up in turmoil. With a heavy sigh, he schools himself and takes out Marshtomp’s ball. “You did amazing, Marshtomp. You’re the toughest ‘mon I know. Take a rest and return,” he murmurs, pointing the ball in his hand down.

In a flash, Marshtomp is safely back in his ball…

…Leaving the fight a losing one.

‘This is bad.’

Grovyle jumps out of the way of a gout of fire that would have incinerated him. Instead, the Flamethrower carves a shallow channel into the rocky soil. Landing back on the ground, the gecko pokemon frowns mightily as he considers what to do.

From the very start, this fight has been an uphill battle, but with Marshtomp down, things are looking grim.

Grovyle has no illusions on the matter. Of the three pokemon chosen to fight Sala, he is the weakest, no matter how much it shames him to admit it.

Marshtomp’s barehanded blows made Sala flinch, and Ice Beam was enough of a threat for the great dragon to focus Brendan’s partner down.

Salamence is… well, a Salamence. His claws, bites, and dragonfire slowly but surely wear upon Sala, and his raw power is something to behold. If not for Sala presenting an unfair comparison, Salamence would be awe-inspiring.

And then there is Grovyle.

Weak, ineffective Grovyle.

The gecko struggles to not grit his teeth as he watches Sala and Salamence clash again, rumbling the plateau down to its foundation. The starved dragon is losing steam, but all he can do is hold back and look for an opening, hoping to be useful.

‘It seems like hoping to be useful is all I can do…’ he thinks bitterly, sending a glance to Lee.

The man Grovyle calls Master has a ‘poker face’ as humans call it. Others find his face and thoughts hard to discern, but after months together, Grovyle can read him perfectly. The deeper-than-usual frown, the slight tilt of his eyebrows, the slump where he should be tense.

It all points to Lee losing hope for this fight, and he should be.

‘After all, he has to rely on me, the failure of the team.’ Grovyle clenches his grip around his leaf sword and touches the scars on his chest.

All the movement is making them sting.

These last weeks have seen Grovyle rise to new levels he thought impossible before, but compared to everyone else? He may as well be running in place.

Ninetales, Corviknight, Latias, and Shelgon (now Salamence), would all trounce him easily.

Breloom, Mawile, Marshtomp, Octillery, Altaria, and Noivern would each be a fight that took his all, with no guarantee of victory.

Tyrunt, Sylveon, and Electrike all nip at his heels, threatening to overrun him.

The only ones he can say he is truly better than are Goomy and Shinx, and comparing himself to an infant is pathetic.

‘It’ll be even more pathetic when Shinx overtakes me…’ He narrows his yellow eyes down to slits.

Lee promised to take Grovyle to heights unseen, to be the very best, like no one ever was, and in accepting, Grovyle silently promised to live up to such lofty expectations.

Lee’s side of the bargain remains fulfilled, while Grovyle has been reduced to a liar.

The gyms? Mostly losses.

The volcano? Swatted down like nothing.

And now here, during a critical trial that decides if they get tools that could help save the entire world?

He’s losing.

What has he done for the team during his tenure? Why, he won a piddly beach tournament after Shelgon and Vulpix did all the hard work.

Because he is Grovyle, the failure.

“Quick Attack into Night Slash, left flank!”

Grovyle’s body moves on pure instinct at the order. He flies across the ground and swings his sword in a wide arc, aiming to drive the slash right into Sala’s frostbite weakened skin.

The attack connects with the blackened flesh, and Grovyle is rewarded with a mere trickle of blood.

‘Not enough.’

Grovyle ducks and retreats when Sala turns and snaps with flaming jaws, nearly catching and roasting Grovyle alive. The dragon turns back to Salamence with a snarl when a Dragon Pulse catches him in the side of the head, and the two dragons are back to their melee.

Fueled by a fresh evolution or not, Salamence is beginning to flag under Sala’s onslaught, and it's plain to Grovyle. His limbs shake, his wounds are piling up, and the blood on the ground is more his than Sala’s.

Once Salamence goes down, it's all a forgone conclusion.

As if to punctuate that thought, Sala bullrushes Salamence, barreling over the smaller dragon and driving his electrified Thunder Fangs into his son’s neck.

“Salamence, get out of there!” Zinnia screams, eyes wide in fright. “Listen to my voice and push him off!”

Salamence can only screech in pain, twitching as he’s electrocuted.

“Grovyle, get in there! Night Slash into his back wound!” Lee orders, desperation in his voice.

Grovyle’s feet move before the last syllable is out of Lee’s mouth. The world blurs to Grovyle’s eyes, and a second later, he’s bearing down on Sala, stabbing his purple-hued sword into the ugly mess of a wound on his foe’s back.

Sala was apparently waiting for this, though, as the beast turns with devilish speed and rams his skull into Grovyle’s stomach, not at all caring about the Night Slash that scrapes across his thick neck.

Blood and spittle is forced from his mouth, and Grovyle feels a rib shatter. When he hits the ground, he struggles to draw breath through the pain, but he still forces himself back to his feet.

Sala turns away from his panting son, his bloodshot eyes regarding Grovyle with annoyance.

Not wariness, not anger, just annoyance.

Then Sala slowly begins to stalk forward, the ground rumbling with each step, and Grovyle knows he’s done for. Still, he raises his sword, and looks towards Lee.

The man smiles gently back, free of blame or accusations. Like this isn’t Grovyle’s fault.

‘It is, though. It’s my fault for being weak. I can’t defend anything I hold dear.’ Grovyle screws his eyes shut, frustration bubbling over. ‘I don’t want to be weak, I don’t want to be the only ordinary one amongst the extraordinary, I don’t want to be left behind,’

In his mind’s eye, he sees Lee, Corviknight, and Ninetales, all walking with their backs to him.

He tries to chase them, but he runs in place as they get further and further away, walking towards a light, something grand that he can't have. Then Octillery passes him, and Sylveon, and Shinx.

‘I don’t want to be left behind.’

They take another step.

‘I don’t want to be left behind!’

Their silhouettes begin to fade.

‘I don’t want to be left behind!’

They’re gone.

Gone.

Gone without him.

‘I refuse!’

A dam breaks, and a shining cloak of white bursts from Grovyle’s scales, drawing a gasp from him.

His muscles writhe and his bones creak, and the ground grows further away as his limbs lengthen. His tail thickens, sprouting bladed leaves. The leaf on his head retracts, forming ridges over his eyes. On his back, a dual row of seeds push themselves from his scales.

The light fades, and Grovyle is no more. In his place is Sceptile.

Sceptile looks down at himself.

On his chest, his scars are no more, reduced to a faded starburst in his scales. He twists his arms, finding no pain or pulling.

Oh. Oh, he can feel everything.

Everything.

From the tip of his tail, to the point of his nose, and every scale in between, he can feel all of them.

Awareness of himself, in utter totality. The direction of the breeze on his scales, the beat of his heart, the synapses of his brain firing, each one consciously accounted for. It should be overwhelming, his brain should be melting out of his ears from the overload.

With a thought, his heart slows down to almost nothing. As he expects, his vision blurs and his limbs grow chilled, so he lets go of the organ.

Then he speeds it up, and he grows warm and restless as his blood surges.

It's all natural, just as natural as the muscles as taut as spring-steel beneath his skin.

He lets out a breath and allows his heart settle.

He feels so light, so unburdened. If he so much as twitches his ankles with too much excitement, he’ll fly up and never come down.

Sceptile turns his head towards Lee, and his heart soars.

Lee is looking at him with undisguised awe, an expression usually reserved for Corviknight and Ninetales.

‘I won’t be left behind.’ He smiles around his chewing twig. ‘Not now, not ever.’

Whatever shock Sala was feeling after witnessing Sceptile’s evolution passes, as the dragon growls and charges once more.

On pure instinct, Sceptile spools up both Detect and Quick Attack, and the world slows to a crawl to him. Sala looks as if he’s running through molasses, and is so slow that Sceptile has enough time to count each scale on his foe’s face, if he were to feel so inclined.

One of the leaves on his forearm lengthens and twists, forming a blade as long as a Sceptile is tall with the same- no, greater- ease he did as Grovyle. Grasping his weapon, Sceptile sends Lee a smile and a wink.

In slow motion, Lee smiles back with a nod.

Sceptile turns his attention back to Sala. “Now, foe of mine.” He lethargically raises his weapon. “Let us see how you combat that which you cannot hit.”

The gecko pokemon races forward, and with all the might in his reforged arm, swings his Siphon Blade into Sala’s leg.

His arm strains against the blue scales, but where nothing gave before, a split opens in the elder dragon’s limb and blood begins to run.

In Sceptile’s slowed world, it takes a few seconds for the pain to hit. Sala wastes no time moving once it does hit him, though, lashing out with flame-coated fangs.

Fangs that Sceptile has already dodged. He’s on Sala’s other flank.

“A failure no longer!” Sceptile declares before raising his sword and swinging again.

Blood flies through the air.

“Grovyle evolved…” Lee can barely contain his excitement, having waited for this moment for months.

Gro-Sceptile takes the brief moment of surprise from everyone to look down at himself with a discerning eye, turning his hands over and bouncing lightly on his feet. He turns his gaze to Lee, and Lee can only beam.

Sceptile smiles back.

‘He’s needed this for so long, and to evolve right here of all times and places! I knew you’d pull through for us, Sceptile.’ Lee puts his hands together and says a short thanks to Arceus.

Sala, evidently tired of waiting, charges Sceptile with a chest-rumbling growl.

The Grass-type on the field gives Lee a wink, one that says “trust me”, and Lee nods back without hesitation.

Then he blinks and Sceptile is… gone?

Lee blinks his eyes again and Sceptile seems to vanish. A second later, Sala lets out a deafening roar of frustration, drawing Lee back into the fight.

‘Wait, what the hell happened? I looked away from him for only a few seconds!’

On Sala are four wounds that weren’t there a moment ago, each one is long, deep, and weeping red onto the ground. They look like sword strikes, not claws.

Then another opens on his back, blood spraying up in an arc.

Another slash appears on one of his hind legs, which buckles under the wound.

Tiny cuts are slit right above Sala’s eyes from a source unseen, which send irritating blood right into his vision.

The dragon roars in rage again. From his throat, white fire pours out as he spins in a circle, setting the entire rocky field ablaze and slagging the ground. The suddenly superheated ground prompts Zinnia’s Salamence to shake off his electrocution and rise into the air with a flap of his wings, lest he suffer burns.

“What's going on? Where did Sceptile go?” Brendan asks, panning his head around.

Lee recalls where he saw something like this before, all the way back in his gym match with Moore in Lavaridge.

Lee blinks when he hears a squeal of pain, and as he blinks, Arcanine disappears from his sight. No, wait, what happened?!

Arcanine is already upon Octillery, mauling the octopus and shaking him around like a ragdoll. Octillery twitches and writhes under the crackling, electrified fangs digging into his flesh.

'What the fuck?! I could've sworn I saw him standing still a moment ago!' Lee's mind whirls. Arcanine didn't leave behind some kind of illusion, did he? No? 'Lord above, he moved so fast that he actually tricked my eyes. I just saw a real after image.'

“Honest to Arceus afterimages…” Lee whispers in disbelief, drawing looks from Zinnia and Brendan. “Sceptile is so damn fast we can’t even see him!”

As if to prove Lee’s point, Sceptile appears on Sala’s back like a phantom. No blur, no whoosh of air, nothing. He’s simply not there one moment, then there the next. Before Sala can do much of anything, Sceptile lashes out with a kick that slams into the back of the large dragon’s skull, nearly driving his muzzle into the ground.

Sala turns his neck and snaps his jaws, but Sceptile is already long gone.

“We can win this. We can actually win this! Salamence!” Zinnia’s manic grin is on full blast. “He’s getting tired! We just need one good knockout blow now! Use the openings Sceptile makes!”

Another slash bursts open on Sala’s side, and on pure instinct, the dragon turns and bathes the area in fire.

Salamence launches a Dragon Pulse right into Sala’s unprotected side, making the larger dragon flinch.

Sala turns to Salamence with a growl and fires off his own Dragon Pulse, which rages right along with its wielder, only for Salamence to twist midair and dodge.

There is a barely visible flicker of green, and another cut rends Sala’s side, forming an X with another wound.

Sala turns and blasts the area in fire, missing, and opening himself up for another Dragon Pulse from Salamence.

The game of cat and mouse continues, with each new wound slowing the great beast of a reptile down further. With his wing crippled, he can’t hope to chase down Salamence, and Sceptile’s new speed is simply something he can't keep up with. Sala tries changing tactics, like smashing the ground with omnidirectional attacks like Bulldoze, but Sceptile simply leaps high and avoids being struck.

‘Aster’s Salamence is something else. Heartbroken, starved, bleeding like a stuck pig, and he’s still trucking through a two-on-one. How strong would he have been in his prime?’ Lee wonders, conjuring an image akin to Godzilla in his head. ‘Hell, maybe Zinnia undersold Aster, if that's even possible.’

Eventually, though, Sala’s focus slips too far, and Zinnia calls for the last blow.

“Zen Headbutt!”

Sala turns his head just in time for Salamence to smash his shimmering forehead between his eyes. The sound of the dragons colliding is like a bomb, and is just as harsh on the ears.

With a tired, pained groan, Aster’s partner falls to his stomach, his head drooping from the blow. He stares up at Salamence, who is panting and covered in wounds, with something akin to pride in his eyes. Then unconsciousness finally takes the behemoth, and his head falls to the ground with a thud!

For a moment, everyone waits with bated breath to see if the monstrous pokemon will get back to his feet. When he doesn't, Lee lets himself relax. “Holy hell…”

“Holy hell,” Zinnia agrees, turning her eyes to the distant plateau where the Elders are mounting their dragons. “If that didn’t impress, then I don’t know what will.”

Lee shakes his head as Sceptile materializes next to him in a flash of movement. “If they want anything more after an exhausting fight like that, I’m telling them to stick those mega-stones where the sun don’t shine.”

Zinnia snorts, then turns her attention to Salamence, who is lumbering over. “Excuse me, boys, I need to go admire my dragon,” she says with a wide grin, almost skipping over to Salamence.

Beside Lee, Sceptile smirks around his twig and crosses his arms. He looks down at Lee and makes an inquisitive, throaty trill, one that seems amused. “So what's that about an exhausting fight? I’m the one who fought. How are you the tired one?”

“Don’t spoil the pride I have for you.” Lee levels Sceptile with a mock glare, but can't quite stop the smile that wants to rise to his face. Grovyle evolved! It still feels so good; so good, in fact that he throws an arm around Sceptile’s shoulders and pulls him into a side hug.

Going for a hug, however, makes Lee notice that the Grass-type is now a good eight inches taller than him. “Huh, you're taller than expected. You’re going to need another physical so I can get a new baseline on you.”

Sceptile sighs. “Can’t it wait?”

“Until tonight? Sure thing.”

The next sigh is twice as exasperated.

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