"Fortree sure is pretty," Flannery said as her legs swung over the void. She smiled as a Treecko scurried past her with a wave of its tiny hand. "Uh, it's got nothing on Lavaridge, though!"

"Of course," Ash mumbled, half-unconscious as he stared off into the endless tangles of branches. How strange it was to see so many leaves in winter…

He let out a yawn worthy of a Snorlax even as he lost focus yet again.

Flannery laughed and slugged him on the shoulder. He blinked dully at her. "You're not looking so good, Mr. Elite Four Ash Ketchum. Could it possibly be because of the twenty-four hour battle marathon you just finished? The, what, five hundred challengers you beat up?"

"Nah." Ash yawned again. He was beat. Every single one of his team had already passed out, safely ensconced in their Pokéballs or in the Pokémon Center. They'd more than earned their rest. "It was the last sixty-eight that did it."

He was only functioning due to the Lightning crackling through his nerves, but he also hadn't had many chances to catch up with Flannery. Good company was rare enough that it was worth powering through another hour or so.

"Five hundred and sixty-eight trainers!" Flannery cackled, startling a few Starly nesting above. They squawked at her and earned an apologetic wave. "Do you realize what you've done? Today is going to be legendary. You're going to be the talk of Hoenn, no! The whole training community! Unova! Kalos! Maybe even Galar!"

"As long as I don't have to do any interviews, fine," Ash mumbled. He fought the urge to rest his head on the thick trunk behind him. "Too much trouble."

Flannery snorted. "Then you'd better get ready to run. I saw plenty of reporters and news outlets setting up shop when I came into the Gym. You owe Zach a thank you!"

He wasn't surprised that she knew Zach. Flannery seemed familiar with the Fortree Gym. She'd told him at some point during the battle marathon that she'd spent some time training with Winona when she was preparing to become a Gym Leader. Same situation as Brock and Surge, Ash figured, though perhaps her situation was less of a matter of necessity with Fino around, and more to round out her instruction.

Ash groaned at the news. "Annoying."

"Are you sure you don't want to do a quick interview?" Flannery grinned as she rapped her knuckles against the PokéNav tied to her loose jeans. "I could be a great reporter!"

She cleared her throat and shoved her PokéNav into Ash's face; a mockery of a microphone, truly, and her expression was all wrong. "This is Flannery Moore reporting with, uh, Fortree News?"

"Very convincing." Ash yawned again. "Maybe you're on the wrong career path."

His mom would probably have a heart attack if she saw him up here in the branches half-asleep. He wondered if she'd seen any news about his challenge to Hoenn. No doubt he'd have a few messages to look through later, but he couldn't even imagine responding to them now. It was all he could do to stay upright.

"Right?" Flannery's wide smile was blinding. "Maybe I'll moonlight on one of the Lavaridge stations some day. Flex my talents, you know? They might even let me, if I was able to net them a super special guest attendee. You know anyone who might be willing to volunteer?"

He closed his eyes and asked for patience. "Speaking of Lavaridge…"

Flannery wrinkled her nose at Ash's suddenly serious expression. "Way to be a buzzkill, Ash."

He smirked—ust a brief flash, long enough for her to see it, not long enough for her to think his question wasn't serious—and waited.

She sobered quickly enough and bit her lower lip. "Grandpa and I have moved out most of the old treasures, the stuff that can't be moved quickly. Plenty of seismic activity going on, but nothing major. Mt. Chimney's active enough that we can pretty easily convince people that we need to run evacuation drills every month or two and keep it feeling routine, but people are getting worried."

"I can imagine," Ash said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, is it?" Flannery smiled wanly. A dark flame in the back of Ash's mind receded suddenly, its absence more notable now than its presence. "It's happened before. Still," she trailed off, "about the Legends…"

He stiffened, though more out of habit than a reluctance to share. Ash had already made her aware of the threat, after all, and he trusted her enough to give more. "What about them?"

"I'm worried," she said. "You said Groudon's right underneath Lavaridge, right?"

"Sleeping beneath Mt. Chimney," Ash confirmed. He was really too tired for this conversation, but forced himself to stay alert. It might not have been the best time for him, but he was sympathetic to Flannery. This was her city they were talking about, after all. Her world. "Tossing and turning."

Flannery wilted. "That sucks," she mumbled, staring off at the line of challengers stretching out from Fortree Gym. Zachary and a few beleaguered Gym Trainers tried to wave them away, but apparently the incoming trainers thought Ash might still be up for a challenge. "It really, really sucks."

He allowed himself to dwell on it for a few moments, and felt his mood dim accordingly. "It really, really does."

Ash turned to face Flannery. She looked lost in the boughs, the bright red of her hair standing out in stark contrast to the soft forest hues all around. Flannery reminded him of a cinder smothered beneath tinder too great for it to burn.

There was something a friend would do here, wasn't there? Yes, there was.

It felt uncomfortable, but he fought past his awkwardness and sympathetically patted her on the shoulder. The mind-numbing exhaustion probably helped, though he was still quick to yank his hand away when he was done, wary of overdoing it.

His friend seemed to appreciate it, though. Flannery smiled at him, amused at him swaying on the branches if nothing else, and bumped his shoulder with her own. "Thanks, Ash. I guess it's better to know than not to know, right? At least this way, we're able to help as much as we possibly can!"

"Silver linings." Ash yawned. His eyes threatened to shut, but he shook off the exhaustion for a moment longer. "I guess we're just lucky enough to live in interesting times."

"Lucky!" Flannery laughed. "Only you, Ash. Were the hundreds of trainers not enough for you? Will a giant volcano monster be a worthy challenge?"

Ash recalled the simple enormity of the behemoth beneath Mt. Chimney… and the surrounding mountains. The lava in his veins. The wisp of a thought that had nearly devoured him whole.

"Maybe."

She snorted. "Sure, Mr. Elite Four Sir. Oh!" Flannery jolted. "Grandpa wanted me to ask about Infernus' technique, that one that you mentioned could—"

Ash felt the twist of teleportation before Flannery could react. He sat up straighter, cautious, but relaxed as Juliet manifested with an unamused Steven and very amused Winona at her side.

Flannery yelped and tried to leap up to salute once she realized who they were, but her haste left her nearly toppling off the side of the great branch.

A gentle shell of bright blue psychic energy immediately surrounded and cradled her, and after a moment more hauled her back to her feet. Flannery looked a little green as she peered down at the distant forest floor below. "Wow Um. Thanks. I owe you one, Juliet!"

The Gardevoir smiled at her.

Of course.

"Mr. Stone! Leader Winona!" Flannery suddenly seemed self-conscious of her gaudy outfit and silly bucket hat, although Steven simply nodded approvingly at the sight of it. Ash could only roll his eyes. No doubt Steven thought it was a brilliant disguise. "What a coincidence!"

Steven sniffed. "Indeed. Surely the Lavaridge Gym Leader wouldn't take a day off just to accept my precocious student's silly challenge, would she?"

Flannery scratched the back of her head. "Uh…"

"Forget that!" Winona said, cutting in. "Enough of the 'Leader Winona' nonsense, Flannery. We're equals. There's no need to stand on ceremony unless Glacia is glaring at us."

Ash yawned. His head sagged. He welcomed oblivion—

"I don't think so!" Steven snapped his fingers just in front of Ash's face while Flannery and Winona chatted beside them. It was barely enough to rouse him. "A twenty-four hour battling challenge? I don't know what I expected!" His teacher sighed. "If you were hoping to fly under the radar, this wasn't the way to do it."

He mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Well, I hope you at least had fun." Steven's voice was softer now, almost amused. "You have no idea how many people have called me in the last twenty-four hours. You've certainly made Lance's day. I expect you have quite a few messages waiting for you. Most of the other Gym Leaders are enjoying the vacation you offered. Half the trainers in Hoenn must be in Fortree!"

Winona smiled down at him. "Which I appreciate, by the way. It's been some time since I've seen the town so alive!" She gestured down at the countless trainers milling around, filtering in and out of various shops or filling the dozens of miniature arenas that dotted Fortree. "This is normally a bit of a slow month. Steven, I don't suppose I can borrow Ash every now and then?"

"You'll have to discuss that with him," Steven said, completely serious. He shook his head. "Perhaps wait until he's had some time to rest first."

"I'm good," Ash mumbled and offered a clumsy thumbs up. He swayed on the branches, though Flannery reached out and kept a tight hold on his shoulder. "See?"

"You're a little mad," Winona said. "But I love the spirit!"

Steven crouched down next to Ash, although he looked a little green as his eyes strayed down to the forest floor. Juliet was kind enough to psychically lock his legs in an azure grip to improve his stability, which Steven muttered a quick word of appreciation for.

"Perhaps now's not the best time, but I suppose I can always tell you again after you've slept," Steven mused. His voice lowered, though not so much that Winona and Flannery couldn't hear him. "We're going to go our separate ways for a time."

Despite the haze of exhaustion, Ash grasped for Lightning and bolted upright as his nervous system tingled with power. His body screamed at him in protest, well-aware of the toll he'd pay for this surge of energy soon, and he felt the hazy aura of an encroaching migraine immediately take its place at the edges of his peripheral vision. "What?"

"There have been a few unauthorized human forays into Route 119 in the past week. The Pack's requested our assistance to deal with these incursions," Steven explained patiently. "Poachers are targeting Pack nurseries and strongholds, presumably taking what they can and torching what they can't. Executions. It's targeted."

Fury filled his chest. "Rockets?" Ash hissed. His fingers twitched for his team, but he felt horribly naked as his dazed mind remembered that they were all healing up. "Where?"

"Not Rockets. Well, maybe stragglers," Steven hedged. "But it doesn't fit the Rocket action profile; the sites are utterly destroyed. Most evidence was obliterated by dragonfire. I don't think any of the operational Rocket remnants have the raw power to threaten the Pack, not after the losses they suffered in the archipelago."

He almost asked if it was Durand, but Ash dismissed the thought. They'd only crossed paths twice now, but Ash couldn't imagine Durand willing to strike against wild pokémon. If anything, she was the most likely to support an organization like the Pack. It wouldn't surprise Ash if she had her own contacts with it.

Steven leaned in close. "You won't be coming with us. Winona and I will be investigating."

"But what if you need me?" Ash protested. He clutched again at his empty belt, wishing for Nidoking's comforting presence more than anything. "I can help!"

"If Winona and I need you, then we've already failed. We'll request backup if needed. Ideally Glacia or Drake, but perhaps Sidney," Steven said with a wrinkled nose. He glanced at Ash's twitching hands. "You overexerted your team, Ash, and yourself, at that. I won't grudge you it." Steven's mouth twitched in a smile. "But with every practicality in mind, right now you'd be a liability in a combat operation."

Ash nodded miserably. That was something of an understatement on Steven's part. Lightning was fading now, the jolt only able to offer so much clarity to his exhausted mind. "Yes."

"Always hold something in reserve," Steven said sagely. He glanced away, his expression glacial for a moment. "You never know when you might need it."

Steven said nothing more for a moment, then continued. Flannery and Winona were still happily conversing about some shared operation that they'd undertaken in the past few months.

"You're free to go where you will, although the Harbinger is of obvious concern. Since Winona and I will be investigating, alongside my, ah… homework—" Regirock. Ash nodded. Flannery, who wasn't subtle about her attempts to eavesdrop, quietly whistled when Steven looked her way. "—Phoebe demanded—that is, asked politely—that I inform you that she will be at Mt. Pyre for a few weeks if you would care to join her."

"Mt. Pyre," Ash muttered. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. "Doesn't the Harbinger hunt ghosts for fun? Seems like that would just attract it."

Steven shook his head. "It's protected," he said, and that was that. "I have an action plan for us, if you'd hear it."

This would either be an excellent idea or end terribly then. Ash was ready. He'd need to think this over later, but after his battle marathon he was just happy to have someone else with a clear head.

"Fly to Mt. Pyre from Fortree. We don't know if the Harbinger is even pursuing you at the moment, but one way or another, as a fundamentally terrestrial actor, it won't be able to keep up with Plume."

Damn right it wouldn't.

Steven's lips twitched. "Stay at Mt. Pyre. Knowing you, you'll think of it as a vacation. There are… things… there that Phoebe has been given permission to show you. The mountain possesses a few mysteries that she would like your help to investigate."

Permission? Ash blinked. For an Elite Four to need permission was odd at best. The only authority higher than an Elite Four member was the Champion. More Ever Grande secrets, Ash supposed. They seemed to have quite a few.

"Might be good for Spiritomb." Ash yawned. His eyelids were half-shut. "Phoebe might have advice."

"That's our hope," Steven said. "Phoebe seemed quite ecstatic about the opportunity."

Ash said something back, though he wasn't sure if it resembled human speech anymore.

Steven stared blankly at him, then shook his head. "Juliet, can you translate?"

I believe Ash needs sleep.

"That's what he said?"

No, just an observation. His thoughts are too muddled to glean anything from at the moment.

More words, more movements, but Ash felt like he was swimming through a sea of syrup. He was so, so tired…

"Oh crap! I've got to get back to Lavaridge," Flannery groaned, cutting Steven and Juliet off. Her words managed to slip through the cracks of his exhaustion. "I stayed longer than I was supposed to. Grandpa's going to be so annoyed! See you, Ash! Get some sleep."

He mumbled back a farewell before Juliet teleported him to the glorious cushion of his bed.

The blackness claimed him in moments.

XX

They slept for the better part of a day in the end.

Ash awoke bursting with energy, though the wellspring of vigor was soon sapped by the simple fact that the TV was left on (definitely intentionally—even if he hadn't been conscious when he'd been dropped off in bed, he'd never used it in the first place) overnight. It was surreal to wake up to dozens upon dozens of trainers crowing about their battles with him.

He remembered perhaps a tenth of them. The rest was a blur, albeit a very pleasant and satisfying blur to think about.

As he watched more of the newsreel, however, and long it promised to go on for, he began to have a few reservations. Maybe he'd been a little dramatic in setting that challenge…

Hmm.

Nah. Ash smiled. He couldn't find it in himself to regret it. They hadn't had so much fun simply battling everyday trainers in ages.

"I took down Ash Ketchum's Zubat!" a blonde rookie boasted. "She was vicious. I've never had a fight like—"

A smiling reporter practically glowed on-screen. She had black bags of exhaustion beneath her eyes, but it seemed like the sheer pleasure of covering the challenge was keeping her invigorated.

Ash recognized her, but couldn't remember her name for the life of him. But she was a trainer herself if the Magneton sparking at her shoulder was anything to go by. Just the sight of her left Ash aching to go back to the Gym to finish things up.

Surely there was someone still willing to fight him, right?

"Hundreds of challengers were processed by members of the Fortree Gym yesterday. Trainers arrived from all over the National League and beyond!" she exclaimed. "We missed our own chance to battle the famous Ash Ketchum, but not all challengers took defeat so well!"

He snorted as the footage cut to a scene of a scowling purple-haired boy storming past the interview as she shoved the mic in his face. Paul, Ash remembered, was not one for mincing words. Perhaps there was at least one person with less public relations ability than him in the world.

That one had real potential, though, he mulled. He'd never meet it in his current state, But perhaps a few of Ash's words might have gotten through to him.

Paul was talented. In a few years he'd been a monster one way or another, as long as he avoided the trap of stagnation that so many elite trainers fell into.

There was a great distance between a trainer capable of winning a Conference and a proper Master, though. The grinning face of George Grey—a monster in his own right, yet hamstrung by his inability to bond with the teammates he had who didn't share his twisted force of personality—came immediately to mind.

But he distracted himself.

The reporter continued gleefully. "Others were ecstatic despite their hard-fought battles!"

"I can't believe that I got the chance to battle him again," Josh Brooks recounted wistfully on the screen. It's been almost a year since we fought in the Indigo Conference, but man. Ash is a monster and his team is absolutely insane. I can't imagine how hard they've trained to seal the gap like this. They were half-dragging themselves into battle by the time I made it to him, and he was just as tired. But they still countered everything! I did everything on the fly." Brooks shook his head, disbelieving. "It's like he knew exactly what we were doing before it popped into our heads. Three steps ahead of us the entire time…"

He seemed much, much calmer in the spotlight than he had been when Ash first saw him at the Conference. Clips of their Nidoking clashing flashed across the screen, though much of the footage was obscured by the distant techniques. He'd only allowed the challengers to the peak of the Fortree Gym.

Ash smiled, happy that his former opponent seemed to have grown so much in the time since they'd parted ways. Brookes's match would be one he would hold on to in his head for a good long while.

A familiar voice abruptly barked into his head.

Police! The room is surrounded! Secure your team! Open up and place your hands behind your head where we can see 'em!

"Stop that!" Steven's muffled voice spilled past the closed door. "You're going to get us into trouble eventually."

We have to enjoy it while it lasts! Eventually people are going to realize we don't have any actual authority.

"Wallace trusts us. That's authority enough," Steven argued with Claydol as he opened the door and stepped into the room.

You're a buzzkill, Steven. But I repeat myself.

Metagross' dour eyes glared at them from just past the door. Ash found himself grateful that the Fortree Gym hadn't been designed with massive steel-types in mind, although he suspected it might prove an inconvenience once Lairon evolved.

"Hey," Ash greeted simply, waving at them all.

He was still too wiped out to do much else, but he was happy to see them. Only a few bleary memories had managed to stick from the later portions of the challenge, but he still remembered Steven and Winona appearing during his conversation with Flannery.

He hoped she hadn't gotten into too much trouble back in Lavaridge. They had a great fight yesterday.

Steven smiled at him with wry amusement. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Ash rasped, throat still strained from overuse. He winced and reached for the cup of water thoughtfully (thank you, Juliet) left by his bedside, and chugged it down. "Just got up a bit ago. Still a little out of it."

"No wonder!" Steven chuckled. Metagross levitated the Pokéballs of Ash's team to his bedside table with the utmost delicacy. Ash nodded thankfully at the steel behemoth.

Metagross gave no reaction. Though that was to be expected, of course. Metagross seemed intent on ignoring Ash's existence entirely, for the most part.

Steven continued. "Winona's been occupied all day dealing with your challengers, for the record."

"Hopefully they get their fill," Ash said drily. "I wish I was there to face them."

"Oh, I expect you'll find plenty of eyes on you next time you stop in a town."

"There won't be too many on Mt. Pyre, I hope."

"Few mourners make it to the slopes." Steven shook his head. "Mt. Pyre is… demanding. It's inhospitable and treacherous at the best of times, let alone when you want to actually find someone. It's actually a shame!" he complained. "There are so many interesting geological formations, yet I can never seem to find my way back to them. I swear that the ghosts are just taunting me."

Here we go. Forgive me while I look for someone who thinks about literally anything besides battling and rocks for a while. Oh wait.

Ash smiled at that. "I'll see if I can keep track of anything interesting," he said. "So, what are the odds that this is just an elaborate ambush set up by Phoebe to steal Spiritomb?"

Steven was silent for a moment, which left Ash a little more unsettled than he'd planned. "It… Well, it's not zero, unfortunately."

He snorted. "Well, maybe I'll get a good fight out of it."

His teacher arched an eyebrow. "You're still not satisfied after all those challengers? I wish I could say that I was surprised."

Ash ignored Steven's sarcasm.

"It was so much fun!" he practically sang. "So many eager challengers! And I got to battle them however I wanted! What do the Gym Leaders have to complain about? If they were starting, I could give Seeker some room to work out. I could have mid-level trainers gang up on Lairon, or one of the others if there were enough of them. Freedom to face ten trainers at a time, test out team strategies, Ah!" He imagined what Will might do in this situation, and pressed his hands to his heart dramatically. "It was amazing! Who cares if we were exhausted by the end of it? My family was amazing!"

An audible, startled laugh slipped from Steven's lips. He paused for a moment, as if staring at Ash in a new light, then shook his head.

There were traces of sadness hidden away in his expression. He was otherwise inscrutable, (Ash blamed Metagross for that), but soon hardened into a simple sort of resolve.

"Tell me more," Steven said, and Ash was happy to oblige.

"Infernus had an amazing time!" he exclaimed. "You should have seen those trainers' faces when I sent him and Tangrowth out together. You'd think they'd never been drowned in lava before…"

And he went on.

He shared various stories for a time, tucking away some for Lance to enjoy later based on Steven's reactions, but after ten minutes or so, Steven sighed regretfully as Claydol whispered into their minds.

Duty calls, Steven.

Steven paused, then sighed.

"I have to be off," he said sadly. He glanced away. "You don't have to go to Mt. Pyre, you know. It's a dreary place. You have a choice. Go wherever you like."

Ash shook his head.

"Spiritomb needs this," he said, thinking back to some of Cynthia's letters over the past few weeks. His hand brushed over Spiritomb's Ultra Ball. "I don't know how much it's improving; it isn't deteriorating, at least. But that's not enough. Spiritomb has suffered so much. If there's anything I can do…"

He paused a moment, thinking back to his recent abuse of trust, and the debt still owed to repay that.

"Well, Spiritomb's been waiting for centuries," he finished. "I won't let it wait a second longer. This will be a good thing."

Steven smiled at that, seemingly comforted. "If that's the case, you should stay through the Winter Solstice," he said. "Mt. Pyre's wardens make a point to celebrate the darkest night, and the breaking of a new dawn each year. Phoebe told me that it's quite the experience. It would be a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity."

He nodded along, briefly lost in thought of how that might affect his plans. There was so much to do.

Silence hung for a few seconds, then Steven broke it.

He leaned in close, probably closer than he was comfortable with. Claydol spun beside him, shimmering a bright blue as it spun telepathy into Steven's thoughts. "Come to Lilycove when you're done. There's an opportunity I think you'd enjoy. An exhibition against a phenomenal trainer. It's not something you'd want to miss!"

How ominous! You'll get to have your team's faces bashed in. 's not a lure you can pass up, correct?

Ash rolled his eyes. "I know you're baiting me, but you aren't wrong. You promise it will be a good fight?"

"The best," Steven said solemnly. His eyes were disturbingly light. "You won't be disappointed."

His mind ran with the endless possibilities. A Master, certainly. Steven wouldn't get his hopes up for anything less. Probably not Phoebe given that he'd be seeing plenty of her at Mt. Pyre. Ash would welcome a chance to challenge Sidney's team, and be overjoyed at the opportunity to face Glacia's titanic Walrein.

And if it was Drake…

Well.

Ash did his best to hide the shudder. To face the Dragon Master himself! His teacher's teacher, the uniter of Hoenn, the man who had conquered the world. That was the stuff of fantasy, another highlight for his training career.

And if it was an unknown element, then perhaps all the better. He could never have too many Master-level acquaintances, after all.

"I have to go," Steven said with an air of finality. For a moment he leaned in towards Ash, seemingly for a hug, but thought better of it as he realized the awkward position it would place them in, since Ash was lying down. He went for a fist bump instead, which Ash returned after a moment's hesitation, giving his mentor a smile.

Oh, that was terribly awkward. Please don't do that again.

"Enough out of you!" Steven squawked, face tinged pink. "Goodbye, Ash. I'll see you soon."

Not soon enough. Whatever will you do without me?

"Ponder trains of thought without worry for unnecessary commentary, I suspect."

Oh Steven. You'll all miss me when I'm gone.

"Maybe," Steven grunted. "But not now. Farewell, Ash."

"See you in Lilycove." Ash waved Steven off, lost in thought. A great battle, a journey to Mt. Pyre; he had plenty to occupy himself with. He'd miss Steven, but there was comfort in knowing that he'd rejoin him soon enough. "Have fun on your mission."

Steven vanished after that, still flustered by Claydol's incessant jabs, followed by the floating construct and Metagross.

Ash would be a little more concerned if Steven didn't seem to enjoy it on some level. Someone needed to push him when Lance wasn't around. He'd just hide away in his comfort zone otherwise.

His type needed a chaotic element. Claydol kept him on his toes.

Ash watched the news for a time, for once eager for the next segment, watchful for any trace of the trainers who had challenged him and managed to press him for a good fight. So many had made yesterday worth remembering. He wasn't content to just let their memories pass him by.

He hadn't had a lazy morning in a long time. Mt. Pyre could wait a little while.

XX

Green forests swept beneath his admiring gaze as Ash clung to Plume's back. Her wings spread wide as she shrieked, piercing and joyful to the world below, ensuring that all eyes turned upward to admire their queen. Plume darted forward with the wind at her back, sailing the skies as they left Fortree behind them.

About a dozen trainers rose up behind him from the great boughs on the backs of the likes of Tropius, Staraptor, a large Charizard, a fluffy-winged Altaria, and even two atop other Pidgeot. They shot after him, probably intent on tracking Ash (and likely challenging him).

He smiled. How cute.

Ash offered them one last parting wave before Plume executed a neat little twist, called out a mocking challenge to their pursuers, and shot off faster than they could hope to keep pace with.

She kept a (relatively) slow speed for a time, allowing the two trainers riding their Pidgeot to catch up, and then flapped her wings once with bone-wrenching force and exploded forward. In less than a minute the two lesser Pidgeot were left in the figurative dust.

Thereafter, Plume maintained the course with an easy familiarity.

How many times had Plume soared above these lands? Ash couldn't help but wonder if she was a familiar sight to pokémon all over the region by now. They should count themselves lucky. He smiled to himself and brushed through a few of Plume's feathers with his gloved fingers. Corded muscles shifted and coiled with every motion as she made minute adjustments to her flight pattern.

Flocks of Taillow squawked and darted beneath them as they picked up speed, wary of the great raptor. She shot forward to pick up speed, a bubble of air shielding Ash from the worst of the resistance, and he laughed like a madman as she dove and spun and twirled through the air like a dancer.

Plume shrieked along with him. He could feel her joy, her simple pleasure in ascending to her domain and sharing it with Ash. Ash held that feeling, luxuriating in the simple warmth, and whooped as she dove at a steep angle with her wings pressed against her body.

They went faster, faster, faster! The wind would have whipped his face raw and left him half-bruised without Plume's protection, but she ensured that Ash was shielded from the worst of it.

"Faster!" Ash laughed as the ground approached at breakneck speed. Green splashes became a canopy, the canopy became leaves, and his guts felt like they were about to fly out of him. He loved it! There was a lightness in mastering the sky, and Ash could easily understand Plume's vanity when she could survey the vastness of creation whenever she liked.

Her talons scraped the surface of a great lake as they skimmed above it. Wingull shrieked as Plume appeared as if from nowhere. Luvdisc, Magikarp, and a host of other water-types swimming in the lake darted away, terrified as the great predator traced the mirror-like waters of the lake. Wind rushed past them, parting the surface beneath Plume's wings, and she flapped once to take Ash back up, hundreds of feet in the air.

They took it 'slow' now that their pursuers had been left behind. Part of Ash thought that it would have been fun to just fly circles around them, but he was much too excited to make it to Mt. Pyre. While the name always felt a little foreboding, it was famed as the ghostly center of Hoenn, after all, and carried great symbolic weight in Hoenn's histories, it was thrilling to be out on his own again.

Ash loved traveling with Steven and getting to know his teacher better on the road, trading stories and questions over a hot meal, but there was something right about facing the world with only his team at his side. It was liberating. The skies, the earth, the sea… all were his to explore. His to conquer.

Mt. Pyre was only an hour or two away thanks to Plume's incredible speed. They weren't exactly pushing for optimal time, but she was just too good at what she did.

He couldn't help but wonder what awaited him at the haunted mountain. Ash knew that Phoebe had been raised there by her grandparents, but based on Steven's words he suspected that there was more at play. Perhaps Spiritomb would find the shroud of Distortion a reassuring presence, something to soothe the ache of its bound existence to the world.

Or perhaps not. It would be a shame to leave quickly, but Ash had no reservations about hurrying to Lilycove if necessary. He wouldn't force Spiritomb to suffer if the dark power gnawed at it.

Still, Ash trusted Phoebe. If she thought that Mt. Pyre was safe to invite Ash to, then he was willing to give it a shot.

Hoenn's verdant forests passed beneath for a time, then bled into enormous grasslands. Countless green blades, each taller than Ash, swayed in the wind and he found himself enraptured by the vision of the current tracing its way through the fields. The stalks bent beneath the gusts and swayed hypnotically. Plume caught his gaze and swept down closer, though they soon angled over to take a closer look at the deep gorges, steep canyons, and blue waterways which criss-crossed this wild route.

Fortree's defense had always relied upon the wild nature of its surrounding lands. Route 120 was clearly no exception. Any army who attempted to march upon the treebound city would've found themselves bogged down in constant storms and suffering through countless setbacks as they attempted to cross the harsh terrain. The constant mud, rain, and marshland would have proven a fertile ground for sickness and disease tearing its way through any invading army without a battle fought. All the while, they would suffer ambushes by windriders and wild pokémon, bleeding them dry before they made it halfway to Fortree.

Cynthia's book spoke about a half-dozen attempts by Lilycove and Petalburg to press in and steal away Fortree's territories in days past. They always made initial headway, but Fortree reclaimed what belonged to it in the end. Ash would've liked to say that the lords of the city-states had learned their lessons, but greed was a powerful motivator.

It sure was beautiful, though. Ash found himself lost in the wild expanse. He traced the grasslands, admired the mountains and rocky outcrops which pierced the sky, its endless forests that provided cover and homes for tens of thousands of wild pokémon.

Ash loved Hoenn. Kanto held its own wonderful sights: the roughlands of Fuschia, the tight-pressed trunks of the seemingly endless Viridian Forest, the heartland's plains near Celadon and Saffron, Vermillion's glimmering shores, and the looming Ore Mountains which divided Indigo in twain. He'd walked each several times now and treasured each step he took.

Yet Indigo felt… tamed.

Oh, it still had its uncivilized corners. Fuschia had never quite managed to expand far for whatever reason and was still largely ruled by its wild denizens. The northeastern reaches beyond Cerulean and Lavender were largely desolate before Zapdos' Storm, and that disaster had washed away many of the small villages that had expanded into it.

But civilization had bloomed over the past thousand years of the League's stewardship. Celadon sprawled. Saffron was an overgrown jungle of steel beams and poured concrete. Goldenrod crawled up and down Johto's coastline. Humanity had mastered those lands.

Hoenn had attained an equilibrium of an entirely different sort, one that Ash felt at peace in. It was still largely free of humanity save for little islands of civilization. If you stepped far enough, you could vanish into the forests, the archipelago, the mountains.

There was comfort in that.

As he drifted from thought to thought, something caught his eye. He felt a faded connection, frayed and indistinct like a shadow beneath the afternoon sun and tugged—

Something twisted in his gut.

Nausea rose up like an angry Arbok.

His hands shook.

A shadow beckoned him onward.

"Down there!" Ash shattered the connection and laid his hand upon Plume. She jerked at the sudden interruption, likely lost, imagining the admiration of the wild pokémon below as they caught sight of her glorious form, and shifted immediately. "Land! Land!"

Perhaps she angled too precisely for his vague words. Perhaps she was too quick to react.

Perhaps for a moment she saw through his eyes.

Plume shot down with a shriek, flung her wings out to break their speed, and Ash caught sight of an utterly unremarkable rocky hill. It was too unremarkable, achingly familiar in a way that ate at him, but he couldn't care about that right now. All he cared about was finding the source of that terrible connection, that withered void, that haunted visage.

They traveled miles in minutes. She rode the winds with unerring skill, pointed directly at the mundane mountain, and Ash swore the world darkened as they landed. Every breath was sour, the air foul with a familiar shadow, and Plume cried out her challenge as they landed gently upon the ground, the wind cushioning their approach.

He unstrapped himself swiftly, rested his hand upon his pokeballs, and released Bruiser. "Can you feel that?" Ash asked. Bruiser's nostrils flared as a subtle frown twisted his reptilian face. His fists clenched. "It's so familiar…"

Bruiser didn't seem to agree, but was content to stand close to Ash as his guard. A stiff breeze swept by the utterly mundane mountain—seriously, it was so dull and plain that just looking at it left Ash bored and desperate to look elsewhere, though something in the back of his mind itched at the notion—yet the air remained still and stagnant.

Ash trained his ears on their surroundings, fingers drifting over Sneasel's pokeball. Sneasel was a little too aggressive to release until they knew what the source of the terribly familiar shadow was.

"Stay alert," he said to Plume, who nodded. Her eyes were fierce, and as she trilled the North Wind stirred… then died.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"You hear that?"

Bruiser nodded. The strange noise repeated. It was soft and dull, almost wet, and the rhythmic strikes left Ash uneasy. What was that?

"Let's go," Ash said through gritted teeth. He cast a glance up at the dull rocky hill, shook his head, and motioned for Bruiser to follow him as they pursued the noise. Part of Ash wished that he'd just ignored this feeling and flown off to Mt. Pyre with Plume, but something here beckoned him. Something challenged him.

He'd never been one to back down. Besides, tracking down strange, alien anomalies was more or less in the job description. Plume would whisk him away if things went poorly, then he could just let Phoebe know and send her after it. But better to check than to let something slip away.

That didn't stop worry from pooling in his gut as they turned around the base of the mountain.

Thump. Thump. Thumpthumpthump.

"Hello?" Ash called out, but there was no answer. The woods around them were still and silent. Not even the leaves rustled. Branches that should be packed full of Taillow or Wingull were vacated, and such an awful feeling of nausea washed over Ash that he had to grasp Bruiser's mighty arm for support. His vision swam as he fought the urge to spill his breakfast all over the grass.

He whistled Lugia's Song to break the ill feelings, but only mundane notes spilled forth. Still lilting and pleasant, but there was nothing more to them. No power stirred the world. No peace swept over them all. No serenity washed away his worries.

Fire did not warm his blood. Ice did not render him cold and calculating. Lightning didn't set his nerves alight. Rainbow hues faded into grey, and its North Wind abandoned him. Even the azure flame blazing in the back of his mind had become muted, left as nothing but ashen cinders.

His fingers tightened around Bruiser, desperately reaching for the ironclad bond between them, yet all Ash felt was corded muscle and thick grey skin. That loss hurt most of all.

Ash was nothing but a mortal now. He felt blind, deaf, disconnected from the world.

But this wasn't the first time he'd experienced this, was it? No, Ash recalled, Lavender had sapped him. Sneasel's darkness-wreathed claws had set him free. And—

That's when they saw him.

A withered husk wrapped in rotted rags that might have been red once upon a time. Dozens of twigs were stuck in the maroon wreck, though the bottom portions of his cloak had decayed to nothing more than little strips of thread. Mold grew in the waterlogged fabric, filling it alongside patches of rancid earth and sticky mud.

His 'clothes' might have been a horrid sight, but through some unholy miracle his body was somehow in an even worse condition. The man's skeletal face was waxy, like a corpse, skin stretched so tight around his bones that it seemed like they would tear through the emaciated flesh.

Gaping sores and bloody patches littered the visible portions of his gaunt face, though much of him was hidden by his lank curtain of greasy, dark blue hair. It was knotted and twisted, full of dirt and oil, and Ash nearly gagged as the man's scent struck him from nearly thirty feet away. He smelled foul.

He tried again, his lungs protesting, and nearly retched. Did he even know what a shower was?

Ash was tempted to release Torrent just to hose the wreck down, but he flinched as the man stared blankly at the rock wall ahead, blinked once with bloodshot eyes, and smashed his head into the stone.

Thump.

The man didn't even flinch at the impact.

Thump.

As Ash approached, he caught a new angle: the man's face was just one giant bruise. What wasn't littered in sores and scabs was mottled purple and yellow by virtue of the impact. Blood so dark it almost appeared black congealed into thick globs that drenched his face, though quite a bit was left on the mountain, painting the stone with its foul touch.

And then the man's neck wrenched towards Ash like an overgrown bird. It cracked so loudly that Ash feared the bone might have snapped, yet the man showed no sign of pain. One light green eye bulged as if about to pop out of its socket, though the other was swollen shut.

Bruiser stepped forward protectively, daring the man to come any closer.

Ash placed a hand on one of his wrists placatingly, unwilling to let whatever sense of honor Bruiser had kick in and demand he step forward to finish the job. He'd probably see it as a mercy.

Unfortunately, he couldn't let him do that. He knew this man. "Tobias."

The husk's good eye rolled in its socket to focus on Ash, pupil badly dilated and oblong, and he brightened. As ruined as he was, that eye blazed with the intensity of a madman.

That face twisted, opened like a cracked sore. He grinned, delighted, and revealed a mouthful of black, rotten teeth. There were less than Ash remembered. Thick layers of yellow-black filled the gaps, though quite a few looked as if they were ready to simply drop out. Some already had, leaving empty sockets and bloody gums in their wake.

One of Tobias' hands reached up to claw at his face, gouging into the sores with overgrown nails. "Ketchum!"

Tobias' withered tongue swept at his bloody lips to lick them clean. His words spilled out in a raspy whisper, almost too soft to hear, and were spoken with an odd cadence. It was like Tobias had to go over each individual phoneme to put them together. "Good! Good!"

His senses screamed to flee this place, to turn back and never return, but Ash stood his ground. That didn't mean he didn't cling to Bruiser like a lifeline, though. For his part, Bruiser seemed just as disturbed. Pity and disgust warred in his eyes as he took in everything that Tobias was.

Thump.

Tobias smashed his head into the stone again, smearing his black blood against it. The air twisted and writhed around it. The rock seemed to shrink away and recede around it, though Ash couldn't even begin to explain how that made any sense.

But he'd accepted long ago that things stopped making sense when Distortion entered the picture. Ash had known little of the unnatural power when he'd first met Tobias outside of Goldenrod, but he'd been illuminated to its nature since then. More than that, he'd come to understand the world in that time.

Why, why, why?

Ash was no Cynthia, but he saw a little more deeply than he once had. And that alone told him that Tobias stank of Distortion. It bled from him in waves, twisting the world in a thousand different ways. The air was corrupted. The earth soaked up the stuff. It was like a film of oil coating everything and gnawing away at it like an acid, doing its utmost to reduce the material to nothing.

"A man, or was," Agatha's fearful words echoed in his ears. "Rotten."

As sick as the sight of Tobias made him, Ash couldn't help but feel a hint of worry as he looked upon the putrid man. He was a wreck, his body as twisted as his mind. No one deserved that.

Well, that was a lie. Ash could think of several who did. Whoever Tobias was before probably wasn't that awful, though.

"Tobias," Ash said slowly. "Are… are you okay?"

A stupid question. Okay might as well have been a foreign word to the ruined man. He was falling apart. If they met again, Ash suspected that Tobias might be down a limb or two rather than just a few teeth. Despite his horror, he felt a pang of pity.

Thump.

"Tobias is Tobias." The husk revealed his rotten teeth again, baring them in what was supposed to have been a smile. "Doing his job!"

"And that is…?"

Tobias cocked his head. One of his filthy fingernails dug around in a raw sore, peeling back the edges. "Making sure."

He probably should have known better than to try and get a clear answer out of the man. Did Tobias even realize what he was doing? Ash knew that the rotten man had some association with the League, but Agatha hadn't exactly been forthcoming with the details.

"That's nice," Ash lied.

Bruiser never let his eyes stray from Tobias. He could only imagine what one of his enormous fists would do to Tobias' papery skin and atrophied flesh. Then again, Ash supposed he should be more concerned about what Tobias' ruined body would do to Bruiser. He suspected it wouldn't be so easy to finish him.

Ash hesitated, certain he would regret this, but pressed on. "Uh, Tobias."

The man stared at him with his one good eye. It was trained upon Ash raptly, focused on him like he was the only thing in the world.

Thump.

He didn't bother asking why Tobias was smashing his head into a random mountain. Some questions were probably better off not being answered. But he couldn't forgive himself if he didn't ask this one.

"Do you need help?" It seemed a foolish question, even moreso when Tobias just continued to stare blankly at him. Ash waved his hand. "Medicine, food, water… anything, really."

"Help?" Tobias whispered the word as though utterly confused by the concept. "Food?"

Well, that was just plain concerning.

"Here." Ash tapped one of the storage compartments on his pack and quickly materialized a few basic materials: bread, artificial meat, and an assortment of vegetables. Not a single part of him wanted to come within a dozen feet of Tobias, but he fought past it to step closer and lay it on a nearby tree stump. "You can have this."

He tossed a few water purification tablets in with the rest. Ash wasn't sure if Tobias could even get sick—any sicker than he already was, at any rate—but it couldn't hurt. "Put these in your water," Ash instructed. "It'll keep it clean."

Any trainer should have known this. Agatha said that Tobias was once a Master. Ash couldn't even imagine this strange, twisted creature standing tall and proud as one of the greatest trainers in the world.

Bruiser's eyes softened as Tobias stared blankly at the foodstuffs. When was the last time he'd eaten? It must have been berries or scraps gathered from the wilderness. It was difficult to imagine Tobias stopping in a town to purchase a meal.

Purchase. Did he even…?

"Money!" Ash blurted. He materialized a few thousand dollars that he kept on hand for emergencies and gently placed it besides the food.

"Paper, paper. Goods and services!" Tobias said slowly as if learning a new word, or perhaps remembering something long-forgotten. Long, gnarled fingers reached out to brush against the paper. Ash doubted that Tobias even noticed that he and Bruiser inched away.

His nose wrinkled. That smell!

"You need to see a doctor," Ash said.

Well, he needed to see many doctors. Potentially a mortician. He doubted any doctor in the world would be able to fix whatever on earth Tobias had become, but maybe they could at least get him in better condition. Tobias was going to die if he didn't take care of himself. "And a dentist. And… you know what, they'll take care of it. I don't even know where to begin."

Tobias ignored him, still fascinated by the stack of cash. Such a sum would've left Ash heartbroken back when he was a rookie trainer, but thanks to his work with the League it was just an afterthought. He was just happy it was going to a good cause, even if he wasn't entirely certain that Tobias would manage to make use of it.

"I can help you," Ash offered hesitantly. Sticking around Tobias was the last thing that he wanted, but it wouldn't be right to leave him like this. "It wouldn't take long. I can get you set up with anything you need."

"Tobias remembers," the withered man said softly, a note of something creeping into his voice. A wide, ragged smile carved its way across his face. "Tobias remembers!"

Remembered what?

Ash pressed Tobias a little more, but the man just wouldn't give him an answer one way or another. Tobias didn't even seem to think that something was wrong with being an emaciated wreck barely able to string two sentences together. He stared oddly at the food, then tugged at his rotten red robe. They'd been in terrible shape back in Greenfield, but it was clear that roughing it in hot, humid Hoenn hadn't done them any favors.

It hadn't done Tobias any favors, forget the clothes. The man was actively putrefying before his eyes, a living mannequin of gangrene and congealed blood.

At this point the only thing to do with them would be to burn the rags. It would be the wardrobe equivalent of a mercy kill.

Actually…

"Bruiser, do you mind if we donate a few of your creations?" he murmured to his friend.

Confusion flickered across Bruiser's face, then realization struck. Bruiser took Tobias' measure, glanced over his ravaged clothes, and finally nodded. "Thank you. I'd give some of mine but I don't have anything that would fit him."

Tobias was a wreck, but he was still a tall man. He was of similar height to Lance but thin as a reed. Perhaps he'd been handsome and strong once, but time had left him an emaciated husk of what he had been.

What would the old Master Tobias think if he saw what was left of him?

"I have something for you to wear," Ash said more loudly. Tobias' blazing eye burned a hole into him, fascinated by the enormous knitted garments that Ash pulled from a storage compartment. He unraveled them to reveal a particularly large knit cap and an enormous sweater. "Bruiser made them. See?"

"Soft," Tobias whispered, awestruck, as his filthy hands brushed the fabric. Bruiser winced as the white cloth was stained brown and black by Tobias's scabbed fingers, but he suffered through it. Ash owed him after this. They'd clear out a whole town of thread if they had to.

"You should wash up and change into them," Ash said firmly. "You don't want to get them dirty."

He spent a few minutes instructing Tobias, though he had no clue how much actually made it through to the man. Ash despaired all the while. How on earth had Tobias kept himself alive all these years? More than that, what had done this to him?

At this point he was barely even a person.

"So what are you doing out here?" Ash's brow furrowed. "Wait, how did you even get to Hoenn? Did you fly?"

"Tobias walked!" The man said proudly. Ash blinked. To an island? "Tobias is checking. Doing his job. Elite Agatha is gone, so Tobias has extra work to do."

Ash could meet Tobias' fevered gaze no longer. His fists clenched.

"I… Is there a way to contact you?"

"Tobias will find you, Ketchum."

Well, that was disconcerting. Also just about the last thing that Ash wanted. He met Tobias' green eye with a sigh, chills racing down his spine as Tobias' filthy fingernail dug around in another one of his sores. "Stop that!" He channeled his mother for a moment. To his shock, it actually worked. "It's going to get infected if you keep that up."

"No."

"No?"

"No!" Tobias confirmed with a nod. "No infection."

He wasn't going to fight the madman on this. The darkness was creeping on the edges of Ash's vision. Things hung about, spawned by Tobias' simple presence, and he was done here. He'd investigated, assuaged his curiosity, and had managed to have something approaching a conversation with Tobias.

Part of Ash wanted to press Tobias for answers until he cracked, but Ash suspected that it would be a waste of time. Any answers that Tobias offered would likely be incomprehensible or useless — he knew that Tobias was in Hoenn now and apparently spending his time smashing his head into rocks. That was enough to report on.

"Well… I have to get going. Take care of yourself, Tobias." Ash glanced away for a moment. Tobias was difficult to look at. What a pitiful creature. "Please take everything. See a doctor and get checked up. They can help you."

Just as Ash prepared to retreat to Plume and flee this place, Tobias cocked his head, one of Bruiser's hats dangling in his filthy grip. He took a deep sniff, then smiled, delighted. "Ketchum has a hunter? No, not Ketchum!"

Ash froze and immediately scanned their surroundings. No sign of stark white fur, thankfully. He wasn't in the mood for a fight right now, bizarre as that was to imagine. He just wanted away.

For a moment the world twisted, bent and refracted and mad, and the next Ash felt the oppressive weight of Spiritomb manifest at his feet as its pokeball clicked open. Tobias nodded, pleased with whatever trick he had pulled, and inspected the keystone with his wild green eye, a rancid smile exploding across his features.

Spiritomb recoiled, though its oblivion aura faded to nothing beneath Tobias' gaze and oppressive power, and Ash knelt and clutched the specter beneath his hands as flecks of lavender gas sucked back into the keystone. It quivered beneath Tobias' gaze, burying itself within Ash's grip.

It was afraid.

Grey not-light flickered about Tobias, bleeding from every pore, and the man licked his lips. Such awful power… Bruiser stepped forward, but Ash shook his head. He steeled himself and forced away that awful feeling of wrongness, that insidious fear of staring into the abyss.

"We need to get going now," Ash said firmly, never allowing his eyes to stray from the madman. He cradled Spiritomb with gentle hands. "Good to see you, Tobias."

"Hunted, hunted, hunted!" Tobias sang. "Hunted by Moonlit-Blade!"

"The Harbinger?" Somehow Ash wasn't surprised that Tobias knew about it. His senses screamed, writhing at the wrongness exuded by the skeletal man, but he steeled himself and clutched Spiritomb closer, putting himself between it and Tobias. "Has it… has it hunted you as well?"

Tobias' lips peeled back in what was supposed to be an earnest smile.

"It knows better."

That sounded about right, but was confirmation more than anything that Ash needed to get out of here.

So he returned Spiritomb, offered a frantic wave to Tobias, and fled back to Plume.

The rest of the flight to Mt. Pyre passed by in utter silence.

XX

Mt. Pyre sprung up from the ocean like a great fist. Green forests blanketed the base, though endless waves of thick mist crawled about the higher regions and obscured the summit from view, though a great, furious cloud swirled overhead as if waiting to smash the mount. The pale fog soaked up all the light that struck it, glimmering silver beneath the midday sun.

It was a lonely island, surrounded for miles around by nothing but the blue-green waves which lapped at its rocky shores. Most ferries from the mainland's coastline took an hour or two to cross the short stretch. Mt. Pyre was content to exist between the border of land and sea just as it straddled the line between life and death.

The elder days of the Volumo Empire lived on in this ancient place. While only the very base of the mountain had been properly settled and opened to the public, it was plain as day to see that the masterfully crafted stone was shaped in a style lost to time. Most of the empire had been wiped away seemingly overnight, yet Mt. Pyre had retained its old walls.

Most of the archipelago relied on wood for their constructions, well-used to the tempestuous wrath of the ocean and the fickleness of summer storms. The mainland had always felt far more secure in building great works and piling vast blocks of stone high into the sky, but the fortifications on Mt. Pyre resembled nothing that Ash had ever seen: they were simpler than the intricate old homes of Rustboro, more beautiful than the practical shelters in Dewford, and sturdy as the Draconid tower that Ash had discovered on Sudmauna.

If anything, Ash was reminded most of the Lavender Tower. The stones appeared natural, not the inky rocks which had been shaped into Lavender's centerpiece, but that same sort of utilitarian elegance bled through.

High walls carved into the mountainside rose up to cradle an enormous entrance large enough for a dozen men to walk in side-by-side. Its edges were carved straight and smooth with the visages of Chimecho circled around a black-eyed Aggron etched into the rock. As Ash walked past it, he could have sworn he felt the eyes of the Aggron etching following him.

He admired it for a moment regardless, though the same darkness which followed in Tobias' wake settled about him as Plume landed and he unstrapped himself from her. It only took a minute or two to get the saddle off her back, though he felt… unsteady.

There was a pressure here beyond the simple blanket of Distortion. He was too distant to sense much, but it was like observing a great current rushing beneath a layer of still waters.

"Thank you," Ash whispered to Plume, stroking her chest. She trilled a few notes of Lugia's Song, discomforted by the creeping fog which spilled from the mountain's slopes, and Ash shook his head. "I'll be okay. We have a guide, see?"

Plume looked disdainfully at the lone Duskull that crept out from the mist. The cloth and bone mask that it possessed shifted smoothly as it hovered nearby, spectral red eye blazing like blood aflame in the void-like socket.

"Best get used to it," Ash said with a shake of his head. "Based on the timeline Steven gave us, we'll be hanging around here for a few weeks." Plume squawked despondently, looking rather displeased with the prospect of staying on the gloomy mountain for any length of time. He could understand given the rather unpleasant encounter that they'd just had with Tobias. "It's for a good cause, I promise."

She nodded stiffly and pointed her sharp beak to the sky. It didn't take a genius to figure out her question.

"Go for it. You deserve a break after… that."

Plume shrieked in agreement and paused to nip Ash's tattered hat before she exploded forth in a rush of air that cast the mist aside for a time, though it soon came crawling back.

Ash suspected that he'd have to get used to that.

A few mourners stared at him from the docks, most with red eyes and dour faces, but even Ash was little more than a brief distraction. Some filtered past him, sparing Duskull little more than a glance, while others fanned out to explore the island and seek out old graves. Still more left from within the mountain's interior to line up near piers and await the ferries which would take them back to the mainland.

"Are you here for me?"

Duskull nodded. A little bit of scarlet flame leapt forth from its lone eye and burst into a stylized flower.

"Phoebe?"

The ghost's fire shifted into a thumbs-up sign.

That was good enough for Ash. "Lead the way." He nodded toward the gates. "Thanks for picking me up."

Duskull seemed content to ignore Ash for the most part, but it did as he asked. The ghost drifted forward as if pushed along by an unseen breeze. None of the mourners paid much attention to Duskull either. One didn't come to Mt. Pyre without expecting to see a ghost or ten. Cynthia's book contained vast genealogies of the spirits which worked Mt. Pyre. Many had lived here for centuries, with their spawn filling the chambers to tend to the lonely peak.

Mt. Pyre's interior chamber only penetrated a short way into the mountain. Duskull led Ash into an enormous entrance hall filled with busy ghost-types and the occasional Chimecho, which the ghosts made sure to steer clear of. They didn't seem at odds with one another, just averse to the other's company.

Dozens of mourners hung around various tombstones. A few ancient pieces stood on their own, but most graves were filed in great slots and crypts similar to how Lavender had organized their dead in the Lavender Tower. Space was at a premium here, although Ash knew that humans and pokémon alike were buried in the soil of Mt. Pyre above this little site. They were less organized than Lavender's rigid system, more sprawling and chaotic. It was like people had just plopped graves down wherever they'd liked once upon a time.

Most of the mourners wore white or black. Many adorned the masks of Shuppet or Duskull for their visit here to pay homage to the mountain's stewards while others carried offerings of food, water, and precious things to little altars in the corners of the room. Ash suspected something would spirit them away later.

Mt. Pyre held its own solemn air, yet it felt altogether different than Lavender. Lavender had turned mourning almost into a form of worship, remembering the dead and offering their blessings to those who had passed on from this life to the next. Here, it seemed a little sadder. A little more forlorn.

Ash didn't like it. His heart ached just looking at all those who had come to say farewell to someone or another. They were just so broken. For a moment he thought fondly of the Lavender Tower's alien floors and missed trading words with blue-eyed Akemi and grinning Chieko.

"Ash!" A perky voice shattered the solemn silence of the grave chamber. Duskull groaned and drifted aside just in time to avoid Phoebe as she flounced forward, accompanied by a large, silent Dusclops. Mourners turned to stare, her bubbly energy alien amongst the countless dead and the reserved visitors, but Ash could only smile. Most seemed used to Phoebe's antics.

She stopped in front of him, arms crossed behind her back but still twitching with errant energy. "I thought you'd never make it."

"I got distracted," Ash said, electing not to elaborate further. "Had to make a quick stop on the flight over."

Phoebe was in her usual outfit, all color and brightness and vibrancy, and she beamed at him. She was a flower blooming above a burial mound.

She nodded sagely. "Happens to the best of us. Do you have any idea what it's like traveling with Wallace? I swear that man needs to start bringing a bottle or something on missions. He has a bladder the size of a—"

"Not like that!" Ash snorted. "I wish it was that."

The Ghost Master frowned, but nodded nonetheless. "Fine, fine. You brought the baby?"

"Spiritomb?" Ash's eyebrows arched in bemusement. He tapped the Ultra Ball. "Right here."

"Yesss." Phoebe hissed.

He resisted the urge to take a step back. "I don't think Spiritomb's ready to come out and say hello. Things have been getting a little better lately, I think, but we ran into an unexpected friend."

"Oh?"

"About this tall." Ash raised his arm up as high as he could, then stood on the tips of his toes when he realized he was still too short. "Utterly insane. Desperately needs a bath. You know, Tobias."

The blood drained from Phoebe's face. "That thing is here?" She hissed, her usual joviality forgotten. A few mourners looked disconcerted at her sudden shift, but she soon plastered on a smile. "Tell me everything," she murmured.

"We were flying from Fortree to Mt. Pyre, and felt something weird in the grasslands. We stopped and found him smashing his head into a mountainside. I don't know." Ash raised a hand to forestall Phoebe's inevitable question. "I didn't bother asking. But I gave him some food and money and told him to get himself taken care of."

Despite her mood, Phoebe barked out a laugh. "You what?"

A smile flickered on Ash's face. "I was being optimistic." He shook his head. "I've marked the approximate location on my PokéNav. Figured it might be worth looking into."

"You can give me the full account later," Phoebe assured him. "But the League will need to know if it's skulking about." She glanced at the Duskull which had escorted Ash into the mountain's interior. "Hey there, friend. Mind taking a bit of news to Ever Grande City for me? Elite Four and above only."

Duskull's red eye rolled and it let out a dramatic sigh that sounded like the creaking of a grave, but it acquiesced. Phoebe kneeled to whisper in its 'ear', and it vanished away into a dark corner.

"One of our messengers," Phoebe said. "A bit sassy, but Scatters-Through-Shadow is good at what it does. And you better be!" She declared into the darkness, shaking her fist. "You've had six centuries to practice!"

Scatters-Through-Shadow made no comment, but a flick of wind rushed to snag one of the flowers from Phoebe's hair. "Here's a word of advice, Ash: ancient ghosts might pretend to be all aloof and high-and-mighty, but on the inside they're more dramatic than the worst hormonal twelve-year-old. No offense."

Phoebe had clearly never met Gary. "Some offense taken."

"Eh, you win some, you lose some. C'mon!" Phoebe brightened and guided Ash towards a staircase that would take them to the mountain's dreary slopes. Dusclops hovered alongside Phoebe like a sentinel. "What do you think of Mt. Pyre so far?"

"It's peaceful," Ash said. "Quiet. Old. Fewer humans than I expected."

While quite a few of the mourners were humans, it wasn't just ghosts and Chimecho that drifted around. More than a dozen grief-driven pokémon hung in the vast chamber, visiting markers or otherwise reminiscing with the dead: an old Blaziken with white-touched feathers knelt before a human grave, a Ludicolo did a sad, lonely dance clearly meant to be performed alongside a partner, and two little Electrike curled up before one of the crypts.

They were a few of many.

Ash was struck again by just how many ghosts were present. Lavender appeared to have a bit of a distant relationship with ghosts: they skulked around every corner, but they were distant. Honored and revered, but not quite loved. The only one that truly mattered was the ghost whose shadow they all lived within. No specter dared to enter Lavender Tower for fear of being devoured, leaving Lavender's mystics to tend to its hallowed floors.

In contrast, ghosts seemed to be the main workforce of Mt. Pyre. They were driven by a great purpose, though whether it was simply maintaining the grounds and guiding mourners was difficult to say. Some drifted right past visitors, chasing unseen sights.

"Death makes equals of us all," Phoebe said with a shrug. "Same goes for us wardens—we're all out here working for the same boss, even if some of us have different jobs. My grandparents manage the peak and handle things there, but lots of stewards only operate on these bottom levels."

Ash nodded along as she guided them up onto the slope. Cool air met him, a nice balm after the tropical heat he'd dealt with on the road to Fortree, and silver mists rushed forward to engulf them all. A few mourners had followed behind them and soon fanned out into the fog, vanishing utterly as it swallowed them whole.

He watched it distrustfully. Even with Ash's senses fairly muted, he could feel that this was no ordinary fog. There was dark power within it, an awareness. It was alive.

Mt. Pyre wasn't an especially tall mountain, but it seemed endlessly vast to Ash as the great walls of mist coiled about them. A few strands seemed to brush against Phoebe affectionately, curling playfully around her fingers before pulling away. Some of the mist brushed Ash, but immediately recoiled. The air for a few inches around him was clear and empty.

Phoebe frowned at that, but shook it off.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She spread her arms wide as if wanting to wrap the entire mountain in a big hug. "I've lived on Mt. Pyre since I was a little girl. This is where I grew up! There's nowhere else like it in the whole world."

More argent swirls of mist brushed against her. Phoebe laughed, raking her fingers through it as if petting a friendly Growlithe, and turned to face Ash. Scraps of the fog seemed to roll into Dusclops' frame and the ghost's lone eye blinked happily as the pale growths sprouting from its shoulders quivered in delight.

Would Spiritomb feed off the mist in the same way? Perhaps it would provide some comfort to the ghost and ease Spiritomb's pain.

"It's not really a place for the living, but I think we can make an exception for you." Phoebe looked knowingly at Ash. He shifted uncomfortably, one hand drifting to the spot where Mew had drilled a hole through his chest. Icy fire burned in the back of his mind. "Hundreds of thousands of graves are here. Most can only manage a few hours on the slopes, but I think you're made of sterner stuff. Plus, you've got me!"

"Hundreds of thousands?" Ash blinked. That seemed… improbable.

"Odd, isn't it? We just never seem to run out of space. Convenient, that," Phoebe added with a twinkle in her eyes. She stepped forward into the embrace of the mists, which seemed to drift constantly upwards. "Let's go! You've kept my baby from me for too long!"

Ash snorted, but followed along. He attempted to run his fingers through the silver fog, but it retreated wherever he went. Phoebe threatened to slip away into the depths with every passing moment so he had to stick close as they wandered through endless graves, most flickering on the peripheries of his vision before vanishing into the creeping fog.

Occasionally they caught sight of a Duskull-masked mourner beside a grave, sometimes standing silently or reading off the inscriptions carved cleanly into each site. The memorial stones were countless. Some clustered close together while others stood on their lonesome.

He immersed himself in the writhing power of the mountain, felt the tangled nature of the place, and kept his eyes on Phoebe's back all the while lest he lose her in the mist.

"Pyre's alive," Ash remarked as he leaned down to brush against a dark rock. Even the little grains of dirt which littered it seemed to pull away from him.

Phoebe grinned, utterly delighted by the statement. "I knew you'd catch on quick! Steven got something right after all. That's a first"

Ash frowned. "What's your problem with Steven?"

"Steven the socially awkward geologist is fine." Phone shrugged. "Champion Stone, on the other hand… well, we've had some words. Later!" She waved off Ash's questions, seemingly aware that he was ready to dig and dig until he reached bedrock. "You're a curious little Caterpie, aren't you? Shouldn't you be scared of the spooky ghosts?"

A leering Gastly burst from the silvery mist, then sulked away when Ash just stared blankly at it.

"I've seen worse."

"Boring!" Phoebe sighed. "Well, let's get a move on if you're going to be no fun. Grangran and Pops are busy, but I can at least show you around the place. Maybe we can get some training in before dinner!"

Ash smiled. "Lead the way."

XX

He couldn't be sure if they actually climbed the mountain. Phoebe led them through a maze of winding trails, down steep inclines, and Ash swore that he saw the same graves and mourners time and time again. If she was just leading him around for fun…

Ash distracted himself by trying to play with the same mist that so lovingly draped itself around Phoebe. It shied away at his every touch, recoiling at his presence.

Disappointing. Sneasel would have a ball trying to play with the stuff.

It was impossible to tell where the unnatural mist began (it seemed to seep from the stone itself) but it steadily bled into the air and settled about. Much of the fog hung motionlessly, but the longer Ash stayed on the mountain the more certain he grew that the mist had a purpose: no matter where they ventured, it always seemed to be swirling upward toward the peak.

But what bothered Ash the most was the realization that he could still hear the Song in his ears, still imagine the North Wind blowing through in a boreal gale to sweep away the corruption here, still feel the Concepts subservient to his spirit.

And that was in the very heart of Mt. Pyre, though Ash suspected that would change if the mountain's dark power grew wild and turbulent, intent upon snuffing him out.

What the hell was Tobias, then? More importantly, how was he alive?

Ash was just all the more grateful that he'd nearly scorched himself from the inside out with Fire when he and Plume flew away. Best to rid himself of any lingering corruption that wafted from Tobias' foul presence.

"So how's Claydol doing?" Phoebe made a bit of conversation as they climbed a few strangely slippery boulders. She was in good shape (as expected for an active League member) and Ash was a little jealous of how easy she made clambering up the mountainside look. Then again, she had grown up here. This was old news to her. Ash swore the mists would occasionally give her a little boost. "Steven's a bit of a stick in the mud, but I miss that little monster. It's like talking with a Sidney who understands little things like boundaries and social cues."

Ash barked out a laugh. "Still doing its best to make everyone horribly uncomfortable."

Phoebe pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. "I'm glad that some things never change!" She smirked. "I saw your little adventure the other day, you know. 'The Fortree Challenge', some are calling it. It's been a nightmare trying to keep track of all the trainers flooding in from other regions. Glacia's running the League Metagross ragged processing all that data."

Ash shrugged. "Maybe it'll keep Sidney busy."

"Those poor little trainers," Phoebe sighed mockingly. She plopped down onto a little cushion of black moss which covered a dark boulder like a sheet and patted a spot next to her. "Sit!"

He did as she asked, though he was a little discomforted by the feeling of the moss squirming beneath him. Ash was about a thousand percent certain that moss wasn't supposed to do that. But oh well. One couldn't expect a Distorted place like this to be normal.

That would take all the fun out of it.

This whole rocky outcrop was weird. Trees sprouted from the cliff above and grew down towards the earth, leaves wide and angled to catch the silver mist that solidified atop them like dew and seeped into their vascular tissue. Some twitched, potentially possessed by future Trevenant. Others swayed in an unseen breeze, or had bark that glimmered different colors whenever Ash shifted in his seat.

Even the clouds above Mt. Pyre were bizarre, albeit mostly shrouded from view by the swirling mists. What little glimpses of sun pierced the veil revealed angry white clouds twisting overhead above the peak. They were turbulent, ready to come flashing down in a cyclone at a moment's notice. It was like the sky itself was offended.

They remained silent for a time, content to soak in the unearthly atmosphere. Mt. Pyre was like nowhere else he'd ever been. Lavender Tower was similarly disconnected from the material, but it was more… focused. Intent.

Mt. Pyre was oppressive and lonely, but peaceful all the same. Ash closed his eyes and breathed, imagining the fog drifting into his lungs. It kept far away from him, of course. Still, that didn't stop him from imagining the sensation of his bare palm against slick rock from extending further, creeping into the mountain.

It didn't stop him from listening to the whispers uttered from the edges of the fog.

It didn't stop him from sensing the constant swirl of Distorted mist to the peak.

It didn't stop him from feeling the beating heart beneath it all… no, hearts. Thunderous like an eruption, roaring like a mile-high tsunami, yet muffled. Smothered beneath a soft, suffocating blanket. His fingers clawed at the stone for a moment, discomforted, but Ash let out a breath and released all the tension.

What was hidden on Mt. Pyre?

"I love it here," Phoebe almost-sang to herself. "The cool mist against your skin, the familiar whispers in your ear, the soft earth beneath your feet. You're never alone on Mt. Pyre. Here, we see people we've lost. People we've loved. Folks we think are gone. But they're not. Time is an illusion. Death is just an unimaginative point-of-view."

"Anyways," she said, "it was surreal to leave for my journey and realize that my friends wouldn't be able to come with me… most of them, anyways."

Ash nodded, listening intently.

"So, quick question for you!" Phoebe sprawled lazily down on the sheet of squirming moss. She watched the sky's fury with an easy smile. "What's Distortion?"

He started off with the common answer, though he expected that wouldn't be enough. Better to test the waters and build from there. "The power wielded by ghosts and dark-types."

"Boring!" Phoebe blew a raspberry at him. She tapped one of the Pokéballs on her belt, which let out a flash of light that materialized into a Palossand. Ash smiled at the creature as it formed a little pseudopod shaped from sand to wave happily at him.

It looked like Ash hadn't been the only one growing lately

Mist flowed into the creature and Palossand sighed happily. It collapsed into an undignified pile of sand with no real form.

"I'd ask Glacia if I was looking for a textbook answer. I want an Ash Ketchum-approved take. So! What's Distortion?"

Ash's fingers dug into the rocky soil. It was damp in some places, sticky and clinging in others. Some of the soil evaporated within his grip while fog came down to recollect and replace it. The mountain resisted his attempts to alter it. Part of him wanted to let Fire blaze out in a rush, yet he felt that would be… rude.

He considered Phoebe's question with the thought it deserved.

Memories flickered through his mind: the agony coursing through his flesh when Sneasel's claws pierced him back in Greenfield, the overpowering presence of Lavender, the paradoxical nature of Agatha's existence… and tying into that, the similar style of Spiritomb's existence—living beings warped into a Distorted form—and finally those glaring red eyes that he'd perceived within the haze of Durand's Confuse Ray.

"Corrosion. The immaterial. Flux. Change. Chaos. Paradox. All of the above," Ash said quietly. "And much more."

Phoebe's eyes glimmered, then she tossed him a little piece of chocolate that he deftly caught. He looked at it bemused as Phoebe took another from a little satchel strapped to her thigh and popped it into her mouth. "Good boy! I thought you'd have a feel for it by now. You're involved in way too much spooky stuff to miss that. Plus I doubt Agatha would've let you escape her clutches without a basic grasp of things."

What had his life come to when a Ghost Master thought he was 'spooky'?

"It's the antithesis to the natural order of things. Freedom in its purest state. Which I'm all for, and I expect you are as well." Phoebe snorted. "You have a reputation, Mr. Ketchum. I'm still fifty-fifty on you turning out as a Nomad one day, you know."

He grunted and pointedly ignored that last bit. "Too much of a good thing?"

Phoebe snapped her fingers. "Exactly! The universe is governed by rules. Laws. Direction. And without that…"

The Hashimoto. Agatha's withered form, riddled by accelerated time and countless mutations as a result of the unearthly power permeating her ancient flesh. His gut twisted.

"Agatha suffered," Ash said. A horrible thought came to mind. "Are you—"

"No!" Phoebe tapped the magenta leaves strapped to her bare leg, clutched them like a lifeline. She cocked her head at Ash and softened. "No, I won't end up like Agatha. She was a… special case. There's no one else like her."

"And never will be."

"Which is a good thing," Phoebe said firmly. Her eyes were full of steel. The mist thickened about her, swirling around her fingers and quivering in response to the unspoken rage. "Lavender cooked up abominations. That's no fun at all. We never shared such disgusting traditions."

"Well, there's a relief." Ash glanced away. "Can we skip more of the ambiguous tests of knowledge? I swear, Masters all follow the same script."

Phoebe eyed him with a queer gleam in her eyes. "What's in it for me if we do?"

He tapped one particular Pokéball on his belt. "Shall I?"

Phoebe immediately perked up. "YES!"

He was a little disturbed at her enthusiasm about seeing a living emotion bomb, but released Spiritomb nonetheless.

"Hey," Ash said softly as Spiritomb manifested. "How are you feeling?"

Spiritomb twitched, more responsive than it was a few weeks ago, and that was enough for Ash. Suddenly it shuddered, as if breathing deeply for the first time in ages. Silver mist swirled about turbulently, then hesitantly seeped into the crack. It seemed a little soothed, but Ash watched Spiritomb warily.

Ash couldn't begrudge it any kind of comfort after being laid bare to Tobias' mad gaze just hours ago, but he didn't like the desperation with which Spiritomb relished the mist. It was stained with dark power, after all, and given Spiritomb's nature—

He sucked in a breath as contentment bled from Spiritomb. It was dangerously close to joy.

"Can you feel it?" Phoebe said with a little too much excitement. "It's feeding! Its bonds are loosened. A little more and—"

"And what?" Ash asked sharply, his mind buzzing with the worst possibilities. "Spiritomb's unbound?"

He imagined the specter loose upon the world, untethered by the keystone. Oblivion shared with everyone who had the misfortune to come across it. Such a fate would never come to be; Ash would not allow it. Could not allow it.

"Almost." Phoebe sounded entirely too pleased. "The Distortion erodes its bonds, eases the process. It's freedom, after all! Freedom from its chains, freedom from the material. But Spiritomb is at odds with the world, poor dear. It will devour the material, or the material will devour it. What a thrilling existence! To be balanced on a knife's-edge…"

Ash ground his teeth. He rested a hand upon Spiritomb protectively. Perhaps because of their encounter with Tobias, or perhaps because of its simple contentment in the mists of Mt. Pyre, it did not shy away or shrink from his touch. It was like snagging smoke with his bare fingers, but Ash forced a connection, fed Spiritomb happy memories, and cracked the creature's apathy. Its emotions were intensified, roiling out like a building storm, but Ash bore it without complaint.

Phoebe clutched one of those magenta leaf fans that she'd utilized before in Ever Grande City. Darkness was sucked into it, then peacefully dispersed. She watched Spiritomb like a doting parent.

"Agatha was unique, but every Ghost and Dark Master still has to pay their toll," Phoebe said. Spiritomb shuddered at her words, green-flecked lavender mist spilling out of the lone crack in its center. "Our bodies are governed by physical laws just like anything else, organized by countless years of evolution. Everything works just so. You throw a wrench into that and bad things happen. Mutations, cancer, the occasional spirit manifesting in your flesh. The usual! Are you ready for it?"

"I am," Ash said, still feeding Spiritomb happy memories to counteract the solemn feeling pervading the mountain. The mist carried a longing for relief, a desperate hope for a break after an endless toil or a long campaign.

Curled into his mother's side as she read him stories—Professor Oak's Arcanine rolling in the dirt with Ash and Gary, great red tongue lolling out of its mouth—Sneasel crawling out of his cracked egg covered in amniotic fluid—

"But I doubt I'll have to."

"If you say so." Phoebe shrugged. She tossed a little scrap of sandstone to Palossand, who effortlessly broke it down into individual grains and absorbed the mass. "I hope so, even. Just know I'll make fun of you if you're wrong."

"Fair enough." Ash grunted. He glanced toward the peak, lost in thought. Thunder shook the mountain as the clouds pressed downward. In his heart he felt the veil tear a little looser. "Are the skies ever peaceful here?"

"Always angry," Phoebe said cheerfully. She plucked a little mist out of the air. It coiled about her like a friendly Ekans. "Always pressing. Always roaring. You get used to it!"

"I thought so."

Phoebe yawned and rose, stretching her arms. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit." She looked regretfully at Spiritomb. Ash was still a little paranoid that she'd snatch its Pokéball from Ash's belt. Phoebe looked downright hungry. "Come find me when you're ready."

Ash remembered the unearthly feel of the Lavender Tower, its shifting dimensions and alien feel. "It won't be as easy as following a trail, will it?"

"Is it ever?" Phoebe's eyes glimmered. "But you're right. Imagine a happy cottage. It's full of light, glowing in a sea of mist. Laughter. Cheer. Memories old and new. Generations. Life. A cycle standing strong against the tides. Remember those fleeting things and you'll find your way."

He rolled his eyes. "I hate ghosts."

"Don't we all?" Phoebe laughed as she faded away into the mist, lost in space and time. Others stumbled upon the fringes. Ash heard murmurs, the quiet songs of mourning, and solemn words in a foreign tongue. They never strayed too close though, all on the periphery of existence.

Were they even real?

What a silly question to ask in a place like Mt. Pyre.

Ash took a deep breath, settled in with Spiritomb, and their daily session began.

XX

The bed he'd been offered by Phoebe's grandparents was ancient, creaking, stiff, and a little uncomfortable.

Ash loved it. The bed felt much better (well, more natural) to him than the overly cushy beds of Fortree. It was almost like he was sleeping on the road again. Besides, who was he to complain about a free place to spend the night in?

He ran a hand through Sneasel's thick fur. The little-dark type snored, sprawled out inelegantly all over Ash's chest, and Ash smiled at the sight. Seeker hung up on the rafters above with her tiny little tails looped around one of the oak beams like Tangrowth's vines. She chattered happily at him as he woke.

Good morning, Friend-Trainer.

"Good morning, Dazed. How are you feeling?" Ash asked, voice dripping with concern. He'd released her to read a bit of the Drakes' journal with her. Originally he'd intended to recall her so that she could escape the oppressive power of Mt. Pyre, but she'd demanded to remain outside her pokeball.

Sufficiently well.

He nodded. That was better than he'd expected, honestly, though Dazed's telepathic voice sounded vaguely queasy.

"Just let me know if you need to be recalled. This place…"

Your offer is appreciated, Friend-Trainer, but unnecessary.

Dazed's pendulum swayed gently in her grip, a faint haze of blue surrounding the crystalline loop. She polished it against her snow-white mane as her eyes settled against Sneasel, whose leg kicked sleepily as he dreamt.

I have succumbed to the undark too many times. I am not content with my weakness. It shall be overcome.

"I understand," Ash said, nodding. "I'll see if I can come up with anything to help.

Your aid is appreciated.

Dazed paused for a moment, her large nose wrinkling in disdain.

The old ones have tossed a concoction of wheat dust soaked in water, grease, and granular powder over a heat source. 'Waffles' they called it. They claim you are welcome to pick some up.

She sounded vaguely ill describing breakfast. Ash just laughed and slowly rose from bed, carefully moving so as not to disturb Sneasel. He squeaked in his sleep, sounding similar to Seeker for a moment.

I will ensure he does not disturb you.

"He's welcome to come along," Ash said easily as he threw on some real clothes. "I just know he's going to have a very busy day. I think he'll appreciate the extra sleep."

Dazed's eyes curved up in a vaguely sadistic smile.

Excellent.

Ash hurried into the kitchen after that, his stomach growling all the while. Seeker fluttered down to accompany him, though Sneasel continued snoozing. The cottage was fairly small, so the second he cracked his door open he was assaulted by the wonderful smell of cooking. It reminded him of his mom's. That spawned an aching nostalgia that he hurriedly forced down.

He'd scarf as much as he could down and then move onto training. Yesterday saw a solid session with Spiritomb. Cynthia's advice to bring it to a Distorted place like this was paying off in spades. The rest of his team managed to get some work done as well.

Plume had found him after a while, although she seemed less than happy to sit around on Mt. Pyre. Ash suspected that he'd only see a little of her, though he knew that she'd still be off practicing her techniques somewhere. He'd miss her, but he'd convinced Plume to see it as a bit of a vacation so as to not feel guilty.

Nidoking and Sneasel spent the whole afternoon stalking the slopes sensing Distortion. The misty veil wrapped them up and shrouded them in the dark power, ensuring it was even more difficult for both to sense any spikes. They'd played their games for hours. With any luck the difficult environment would help them improve in leaps and bounds, especially Nidoking. He hadn't had the opportunity to practice as much as Sneasel had, although he was showing an aptitude for the Distortion-sensing technique.

It was difficult to straddle the line between impossibly difficult and just outside of the normal strains, but while they were here every victory counted twice as much. Ash hoped that Sneasel and Nidoking would be able to sniff out a scrap of Distortion like a hungry Houndoom by the time they were done here.

The others simply spent the day getting accustomed to the new environment. Bruiser had been curious about the mist, raking his mighty fingers through it, but was otherwise content to knit and drift off in thought while Seeker played in the fog.

"Good morning, Ash!" A creaky voice sang as he stepped into the kitchen. His mouth watered as he saw a plate of waffles (he smiled when he realized they were cut up into the shapes of Duskull and Shuppet) set at a small wooden kitchen table. "Breakfast is ready!"

"Thanks!" Ash was quick to sit down and practically inhale the meal. They were good! He hadn't expected anything less after the delicious meal of creamy risotto and crispy garlic bread the night before. It was almost as good as his mom's, but that would simply be impossible. "Good morning to you as well. Thanks for breakfast!"

Grangran (as she preferred to be called) beamed. She was a slight woman but still stood proudly, full of youthful vigor to match her granddaughter. "Of course, dear. Phoebe and Aberto are off at the peak already."

He nodded, unwilling to speak with his mouth full, and devoured the crispy waffles in record time. Seeker was curious enough to snack on a few bites, though she was so tiny that she filled up fast. She was quick to cuddle up to his chest and drift off into a food coma.

Ash sighed as he finished, utterly relaxed for a minute, and took a deep breath. What little mist had crept in through the cracked window steadfastly flicked away to avoid slipping into his lungs.

"That was great. Thank you!"

"A little better than what you have on the road, I hope! There's no better way to start a day."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ash eyed the stack of dishes in the sink, though a sleepy-eyed Banette had already begun to attack them.

"How polite! It's sweet of you to ask, but we're the hosts, dear. Let us take care of things. You should just focus on enjoying your stay!" Grangran smiled and set about various chores. "Let me know when you're ready to head out to the slopes. I know a few spots that might work for your purposes."

He nodded again. Ash was stuffed to the brim and needed a bit of time to recuperate, but he felt driven to make the most of his time here. Two weeks sounded like a lot, but he knew just how quickly it could pass by.

Ash shut his eyes for a moment and leaned back in his simple wooden chair. His senses gnawed at him as they always did while on this mountain. They'd begun to fade into the background, honestly. One could only be paranoid for so long.

Still… Ash paused, distracted.

"There's something wrong," Ash said as he pressed his eyes shut again and touched on that part of himself that felt the world around him. Touched on an undercurrent of… something.

His eyes cracked open. Seeker burrowed deeper into his warmth, content to rest her head by the gentle heat of the Feather burning on his chest.

"Oh?" Grangran scrubbed at a few greasy pans that Banette passed over to her. Her voice took on an air of distracted curiosity. "You'll have to be a bit more specific, dear. We're not in a place where ambiguities like that like to give much practical direction."

"It's…" Ash shook his head and tried to focus, sinking deep within himself. It was strange, what he felt. Familiar and not, but certainly unlike the Distortion that seeped into the bones of the earth here. It was disturbing, almost definitionally so, and yet it didn't incite the same base panic most ghosts thrived on.

He was no psychic, but even the most mundane person in the world would feel something if they bothered to try after a night here. It was definitely something. "It's not the mountain."

His fingers stroked through Seeker's soft blue fur, quelling some of his anxiety with the touch. "The… The air is wrong. The water is wrong. The earth is wrong." A frown stole over his face. He thought this place was so nice. "Everything is wrong!"

He hesitated, feeling the cloudy haze shrouding those things from immediate view quailing and fading under his scrutiny. His brow furrowed, and he continued. "It's angry. Like a bunch of chained monsters, aching to break free."

Grangran paused, looking back at him sharply, clearly rattled. "Oh my…" she muttered to herself. "Phoebe said—oh, never mind." The pans fell into the sink with a clatter, much to Banette's dismay. "Come along, child. I'd hoped to wait a little longer, but there's no helping it."

Dazed had been listening in, apparently, as she was quick to shuffle to Ash's side. Her eyes betrayed curiosity, though one of her thick hands rose to rub at her temples. Ash patted her shoulder sympathetically. She was sensitive to this place. He could only imagine the headache pounding in her skull.

He nodded, bundled Seeker up in his thin jacket (it was nice to have a reason to wear one again), and followed Grangran out the door and onto the slopes of Pyre. Mist cocooned the cabin, naturally. That was just a fact of life out here. It didn't seem oppressive, though. Not like a crazed stalker glaring at the door, but a watchful guardian.

It snaked about Grangran, draping her in an argent cloak, and she stepped unerringly through the mist. She was fearless, secure in the knowledge that the mountain would guide her to her desired location, and Ash found himself practically jogging to keep the old woman in sight. Her steps took her farther than they should, as if each of her steps was three of Ash's.

Pale faces flickered in the mist. Fellow travelers, Ash recognized. Some were garbed in the robes of the old lords, others in thick plates of armor hammered from Salamence scale. He caught sight of Volumo togas, modern training gear, and plenty of men and women wearing Ranger equipment. Young faces, old faces, and everything between.

Pokémon passed by him too. A lone Aggron lumbered on the edges of Ash's vision, vanishing when he turned to look at it. A great Flygon. The vivid scales of a Seviper coiled around a tall man's neck, and countless ghosts all swarming about. Occasionally a Chimecho would pass by, the mist parting around it, and it would ring happily at the sight of them.

Ash became enamored with the simple act of catching a glimpse of the pale reflections. Most were hopelessly distant, separated from Ash by more than space, but he caught their eyes. Some nodded, some flinched at his sudden appearance. A black-haired girl around his age stared at him in a mixture of shock, awe, and delight with a Pidgey perched atop her shoulder, but she vanished quickly into the mist.

He shook his head, unnerved by the familiarity of her amber stare, and blinked as he saw the reflection of a young boy with silver hair, pale skin, and a very spiffy suit strutting past with four Beldum hovering about him. The boy was painfully young, painfully happy, and painfully innocent.

Grangran shooed the boy off, flinging a spray of fog at him. He paled and fled deeper into the mist, his four Beldum shooting off after him. "That one never liked Mt. Pyre." She tutted. The old woman tossed a little scrap of fruit into the mist, which greedily gobbled it up. Every scrap of life seemed to be absorbed by the mountain. "Always so scared of what he couldn't understand! You have to abandon little things like logic on Mt. Pyre, sweetie. It's the only way to keep your head on straight."

He felt like he should be more disturbed than he was. His comfort was starting to feel unwarranted. "I see."

They drifted on for a time. Seeker poked her head out of Ash's shirt to peer out into the fog, fascinated by their strange surroundings. She clicked a few times, no doubt trying to detect whatever lay beyond her steed, and only seemed more interested by whatever results came back.

More faces passed by, though none so familiar as the shade of Steven. Just the sight left Ash a little sad. Steven seemed so at ease in that brief moment they passed, if a little spooked. Ash couldn't imagine him doing well in an uncertain environment. He couldn't help wondering why Steven would've visited. It wasn't as if he'd ever raised a ghost.

He couldn't be certain of how long they walked, but Grangran was the one constant in the fog. Nothing else stayed, all was transient.

"And here we are!" she said suddenly, leading Ash to a pair of grim-faced Rangers standing guard atop the mountain's peak. They were still and unmoving, watching Ash with iron discipline.

How long had they stood watch here? Time couldn't be a certainty here. Did they keep track with clocks? Gut feelings? Ash wasn't sure any of those could be trusted.

Ash's heart pounded as the mist receded and he felt something shift, leaving them exposed on the peak. It was flat and wide, like a blade had sheared off the top of Mt. Pyre, and the roar of wind filled his ears.

Yet he was distracted by the wrongness he felt ahead of him. Ash had caught glimpses of countless shapes in the fog. They weren't humans or souls cast adrift in time, but the inhabitants of Mt. Pyre: Dusknoir, Mismagius, Gengar—all the greatest wardens and legions of their lesser kin flung waves of not-darkness at the center of the peak, drowning it in an umbric tide.

The highest reaches of Mt. Pyre were devastatingly real. Mist crawled forth every second, only to be harvested and wielded by the legions of ghosts scattered on the peak's fringes. They cycled out constantly, fresh armies surging forth while the old recovered. What were they fighting? Ash couldn't imagine what could possibly stand against the might of Mt. Pyre, then he looked at the altar in the peak's center.

A star and a void glared back at him.

Ash fell to his knees, lost in the dichotomy, lost in the fractals upon fractals upon fractals…

The Earth, vast and heavy and cloying, the beat of a great Drum in his ears like a terrible heartbeat—

The Sea rushing in his ears, the Song twisted into a Roar—

He tore his gaze away, head spinning.

"You didn't tell him to look away?!" Phoebe's voice cut through the haze, high and angry. "C'mon, Grangran! It's like you're trying to toss the League poster boy into a coma. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble I'll get in? Sidney won't give a damn, but he'll still never let me live this down! And Glacia… oh boy."

Ghosts crashed against the raging twin forces. Their waves of Distortion nullified the torrent spewing from the twin Orbs, one Red and one Blue. Enormous spouts of sapphire water exploded forth from the Blue Orb, spewing forth like an endless flood that desired nothing more than to drown the earth, and great streams of red-hot lava gushed out and clashed with the water to birth an endless cloud of steam.

The steam hissed furiously and rose up to join the tempest above, which swirled and churned as if a funnel cloud was ready to descend and smite the twin Orbs. Its fury raged down as a great, endless gust and hammered down upon them, though the endless waves of matter birthed by the Red and Blue Orbs managed to resist the storm. A small pond's worth of water gushed from the Blue Orb each second, an island's worth of lava from the Red.

It was creation, Ash realized. The primordial clash that had birthed the world. His thoughts went back to the Origin Festival that he'd helped put on at Sudmauna, their faded recollection of what once was.

He understood in an instant why the Orbs were brought to Mt. Pyre. Recollections from his greedy dive into secret knowledge flickered through his mind.

Earth and Sea comatose when the star-shaped Desire granted humanity's wish, gouging out twin Orbs of Red and Blue out from their hearts.

Ash's hand grasped the Unown tablet around his neck. "They're here. They're here!"

Grangran nodded silently. The grim-faced Rangers watched on stoically, sympathetically. He suspected that they were well-used to this existential crisis occurring mere feet before them. "The beating heart of Hoenn. That dreadful treasure which we must protect above all others."

"What are they?" Ash questioned. Seeker peered up towards the sky, entranced even in her blindness.

"The Red and Blue Orbs," Grangran said as Phoebe nodded alongside her. She exhaled deeply and muttered a prayer to the clouds. "Carved out of clashing Earth and Sea over a thousand years ago. They sank the Volumo Empire in days, but the Draconids secured them here at the end of an age. And so they've rested."

"Jirachi…" Ash whispered, all the pieces coming into play. He hoped the Wish Maker was at ease in its tomb. Perhaps the Dragon Scale would bring it some measure of comfort as it dreamt.

"What?" Grangran whipped around to stare at him, eyes wide. "You… You're a frustrating child, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Ash muttered. Phoebe nodded emphatically. His thoughts were distant, trapped in the crypt beneath Forina. "So they ended up here. The mountain traps them?"

"The Orbs seek to assert their nature upon Mt. Pyre and the mountain rejects it. So it has been, so it will be. A fragile equilibrium struck at the beginning of the last era. A deal made."

Ash's eyes widened. The intention behind the mists, the pervasive power of Mt. Pyre… "There's a ghost here. A powerful one, like Lavender."

The old woman sniffed. The mist embraced her, clutching her ancient form in a warm hug. "I thought I sensed a lingering stench of ash on you. You know that layabout Lavender?"

"Layabout?" Ash's eyes twitched. That was one way to describe it, he supposed.

"It reclines in its dark valley and hoards souls. But what does it do? Bah!" She flung a dramatic hand out. "Nothing! It's a collector and little more. Our warden has a duty, you see. One vital to the survival of our land. It fights every day for our present and secures our future."

Ash hummed in agreement, though he wouldn't be the one to tell Lavender that it was dismissed so easily.

"I'd like to stay up here for a while."

"Really?" Granny arched an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"I told you he's a little gremlin!" Phoebe declared. "A spooky little boy."

"Thanks," Ash groused. "I appreciate that."

Grangran sighed, patted him on the head (well, hat), and drifted off, muttering about stubborn children. Ash ignored her and plopped down just ahead of the stern Rangers. He tried to ignore the pressing rush of the mist begging him to abandon this spot and forget about it forever.

No, he hadn't come so far by facing away from the unknown, nor by shying away from danger.

So Ash sat. He listened. He felt. He tasted the steaming air spawned by the Red Orb, stared into the deep abyss of the endless streams of the Blue Orb.

His senses sprawled across the peak, freed with the absence of Pyre's mist. Ash felt the power course through him. He felt the lava course through his veins, his spirit sink into the abyss, and the sky glower down upon him. They were endless, infinite, and he found himself dazzled.

They really were siblings, he realized. Just as Fire, Ice, and Lightning contrasted and complemented one another, the sheer vastness of the superiors to the elements found themselves in a balance. The Sea and Earth clashed and Sky came crashing down to settle it, furious at their imbalance and forays into its realm.

In the end they were always at war, but intertwined. They were incomplete without the other, yet always stuck in the horns of conflict. Earth and Sea forever clashed and from their battles the world was birthed.

Yet they were only parts of the puzzle.

Ash couldn't help but recall the Beasts. The striking lightning that set the Tin Tower aflame, the fire that seared it to the ground and claimed countless lives, and the soothing rains that brought the nightmare to an end. All singular parts of a great whole, each bound by a singular purpose that gave them direction.

Without Ho-Oh's melody (and more than that, Lugia's Song) they were incomplete. They were subservient, dancing to a harmony that only a select few could hear.

And was it any surprise that the atmosphere seemed so offended by their presence? His mother had whispered tales of the green serpent Rayquaza into his child's ears, telling him of how it came shrieking down upon the raging Sea and stewing Earth.

So furious that it swirled down and offered its quelling power to the unnatural energies of Mt. Pyre, reinforcing the waves of Distortion cast endlessly upon the Red and Blue Orbs for an age.

With that in mind, Ash heard the Drum of Groudon, that steady beat beat. The Roar of Kyogre filled his ears with the tempestuous power of the ocean.

This time, he did not break.

He lingered there for a long time, and his team joined him soon after.

XX

It was incredible how swiftly time flew by.

Weeks blurred by in an instant.

In the mornings he battled Phoebe upon the slopes. The Ghost Master was a formidable, frustrating opponent, but that was unsurprising. Sidney had a reputation for being the sort of fighter who had never been in a battle longer than ten minutes. He was quick, ferocious, and viciously clever in the ways he applied pressure for maximum impact.

Phoebe? She was slow. Methodical. Ash suspected she'd be the type to watch paint dry so long as she could force someone else to sit there and suffer beside her. Dusknoir was practically impervious to attack, devouring most and enduring the rest. Sableye skittered through the mists with delighted little cackles, baiting out attack after attack until its opponent lay exhausted at its feet.

And Chandelure? Ugh. Grey's might have been more sadistic, but Phoebe's was a real monster. Infernus did well even without teleportation as an option, but it didn't take Chandelure long to catch on to his tricks. It spewed flecks of its purple flames into Infernus' Flamethrowers and wrenched control of them away, allowing Chandelure to wield Infernus' own conflagration against him.

The flames didn't do much to harm Infernus at first, but it wasn't long until they grew a wicked purple and scorched deeper than mere flesh.

Truly, she was the kind of Master he'd needed to hone himself against for a long time. Ghosts wouldn't be such a bane to his team ever again. It made Ash wonder what sort of lessons he might have learned from Agatha if she'd remained part of the Indigo Elite Four.

She seemed to be a permanent denizen of Pyre, always roaming its rocky hills and misty forests, singing strange songs in a tongue foreign to Hoenn (and the material world, Ash suspected). He joined her sometimes, though on occasion she'd be spirited away by the fog to leave him on his lonesome. Ash didn't think the mountain liked him very much.

Ash meditated upon Mt. Pyre, steeping himself in the willful mists and the raging torrent of the natural world. After a time he reached beyond the simple cultural connotations of Groudon, Kyogre, and Rayquaza. He steeped himself in the ideas behind them, the Concept bled forth by the Red and Blue Orbs and the furious sky raging above them both.

Groudon was solid, firm and unyielding.

Kyogre was liquid, shifting and raging in mercuric fury.

Rayquaza was ephemeral, shifting and yielding and adapting to every change, raging forth with unstoppable power to oppress the hearts of its siblings and rivals. Adaptable above all else.

It was beautiful in one way, endlessly petty in another.

Such insight offered wisdom. More than that, it offered him tolerance. Ash sat closer and closer to the Orbs each day, and his team followed his lead.

Torrent inched closer alongside him, fascinated by the endless stream which burst forth from the Blue Orb and the odd symbol etched upon its planar surfaces. He rested happily alongside its rage, his inner peace and contentment balancing its rage day after day. Clear drops of water collected like dew upon his scales, his pale hue darkening to a royal blue beneath the ever-present clouds above Mt. Pyre.

He constantly experimented next to the Blue Orb, always whipping the flowing water about and twisting it into intricate knots. Torrent commanded the water with ease—though the Blue Orb was the font's origin, it cared nothing for the product once it was manifested—until the Red Orb incinerated it in a great storm of mist.

After a few days, Ash even saw Torrent's eyes shut in concentration. Moments later a few stray wisps of fog from the peak curled forward, then coalesced into a precious few drops of water. Ash and Torrent stared at one another, delighted at the future prospects offered by the masterful water manipulation, and he suspected that he drove the Rangers half-mad with his endless conjectures to his friend.

Nidoking sat near the Red Orb, content in the sheer solidity of its Concept. Its lava ran through Nidoking's veins, its strength resonated with the core of his spirit. He could crawl closer to it than any else, though the Rangers squawked in alarm when he came within touching distance of that awful power.

Lava seeped up from cracks in the peak and solidified to stone as the Blue Orb spitefully flung water upon it. Each of Nidoking's breaths rattled the earth. Pebbles trembled as he cast his senses deep into the stone, intent upon perceiving all that it touched. Mamoru had shown them the power of Stone Sense all that time ago, and this seemed the perfect place to hone Nidoking's rudimentary awareness.

Tangrowth often joined him, though he couldn't claim the same affinity for it. It was warmth in a place without sunshine, and he drew some comfort from that. If at the same time he gained some deeper comprehension of the nature of magma and how he might manipulate it, well, Ash would count himself fortunate.

The rest of his team took advantage of Mt. Pyre's bizarre environment. While Nidoking and Torrent honed themselves against the Orbs, the rest of his team accustomed themselves to the dynamic world that Pyre's mist offered. Plume and Seeker found themselves against the wild winds that were sustained by a great will, driven forth by the sky's frustration at its territory being encroached upon.

Ash had no doubt about it: Rayquaza was pissed!

All the while Dazed wandered the slopes, training to dispel the unearthly power which repelled her. Ash couldn't help but respect the sheer disgust she held at her weakness to it. Dazed hunted out the most powerful ghosts, testing herself against them, and innovated new ways to cast the darkness away.

He was terribly pleased with the elegant solutions she discovered, though they would require more practice.

One day he asked her about it. Why, why, why?

Our first milestone as a collective was mine to win or lose, and I was left choked and useless by the cloying darkness. I would not repeat my failure, Friend-Trainer. It is mine to transcend this weakness.

Words failed him, and though he suspected she understood what he wanted her to know anyways, he still passed a few days with her, hand on her shoulder to quell the tremors.

In the end, Mt. Pyre taught him patience.

Earth, as Ash understood it, was a reflex. A defense. Vast, unstoppable, and insurmountable. The depths of its power were insurmountable, hot and waxing and furious, but it was little more than a protective mechanism in the end. A counterpart to balance against the infinite rise of Sea, which covered and smothered, but did not fully penetrate, did not infiltrate into the deepest places where Earth's heartbeat with a molten, pulsing rhythm.

The sky protected itself. Raged against the disruption to the surface. A counterweight to the hurricanes spawned by Sea, a carving storm against the endless drought. It was above their interplay, but inextricably linked to it.

Ash drank deeply of them both, luxuriating in the sheer power. It was refreshing to immerse himself in it. The dark power in the back of his mind rose, brimming, yet watched closely as Ash brushed closer day after day. He was endlessly patient, content to inch toward the power rather than embracing it fully.

In the end, that paid off.

The Roar was too similar to Lugia's Song for his taste, settling into the uncanny valley, but struck too wild, too wrathful. He preferred the peace of the Song.

"Are you ready?"

Ash hadn't spoken directly to him in months. He'd never offered a hand in cooperation. He didn't know why he did so now.

You're a fool.

Yes he was, but he hadn't gotten here by being conventional.

"That's not what I asked. Don't you want to feel it for yourself?"

Mewtwo was silent.

"I won't do this alone. We both need this."

An eternity passed, then acceptance bloomed in the back of his mind.

Very well.

And with that, Ash took a deep breath, steeled himself, and laid one hand on the Red Orb and the other on the Blue.

It was a fool's errand to rush into them both at once, yet it was the right type of foolishness: so incredibly stupid and reckless that it circled right back around to brilliance.

A single Orb was overwhelming even in the face of his experiences and tempered will, yet with the psychic force provided by Mewtwo Ash was able to counteract the raw influence, balancing the raging forces against each other.

As the relationship leaned into stagnancy and raw, cataclysmic force overpowered the spiritual bond, Ash fell upon the sheer stability and solidity of the Red Orb. When the Red Orb's breadth threatened to smother them in their own insignificance, the dynamic nature of the Sea came sweeping forward.

And when both the Red and Blue Orbs came to surge against them, enraged at their interference in the Orbs' ancient clash, they invited the Sky to fill the void and counteract their wrathful influence.

It nearly tore Ash asunder, but he was willing to pay the risk. Power gained without a risk was power lost in his eyes. So long as the Sky was content to spare him, he was fine.

He couldn't think of Mewtwo without a surge of spite, yet he couldn't help but appreciate the aid. The azure flame was silent in his mind.

But he could think with blissful neutrality for the first time in nearly a year and Ash could appreciate it while it lasted. At least it didn't think of him with hate for once.

Ash sat next to Spiritomb the whole time, who absorbed the lessons just as Ash did. Stability for the keystone, flux for the Distortion which raged between the sessions and tugged at its very origin. And in the end, they persisted on while knowing that the Ghost of Pyre rested its weighty gaze upon them both.

XX

Countless graves littered Mt. Pyre's slopes, yet Ash attempted to visit all he could. Endless shades visited the stone pillar, though they never spoke. He strode through the graves with Spiritomb at his side and offered worthy sacrifices (scraps of emotion that accompanied each grave and allowed each parasitic spirit to feed) but as his quest came to an end he felt the eyes of something enormous upon him

He clutched Spiritomb in his grip. The oblivious specter had calmed over the past few weeks, building upon the foundation that Ash laid on Route 119, and finally lay still and silent in his palm. Yet even it seemed paralyzed as it felt something truly enormous, truly terrible, settle its gaze on his shoulders.

Something almost as dreadful as the utter wrongness exuded by Tobias.

Ash swallowed. "Hello, Ghost."

It solidified between him and Spiritomb, growing strong from the swirling mist. Spiritomb appeared light now, easygoing, relaxed by its sheer proximity to oblivion.

The Ghost of Pyre solidified behind him. It was endless, mighty, and manifested in the form of a tall, mighty Aggron behind him. Lairon's Pokéball opened immediately at Ash's reflexive touch; he manifested behind Ash and sniffed curiously at the creature, fascinated by the relative dichotomy between the Ghost's nature and its physical presence.

It was disturbed by Ash.

That was fine. It disturbed him as well.

"Why did you do it?"

He'd come to understand the eternal clash between Land and Sea now, the cataclysmic struggle that birthed new lands, new oceans, and even fed the endless rage of the sky. It was all a cycle. How many continents had sunk? How many had been birthed? Life managed to struggle on all the same.

He understood less why anything in its right mind would want to come between that interplay. For a ghost, of all things, it should have been suicide.

It watched him, silent.

He couldn't blame it for being wary of him. In a sense, it was comforting to know that there was nothing to fear from the cycle. Life would go on. Yet, the Orbs would upheave the current cycle and put an end to what was and birth something entirely new.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, perhaps he was holding onto something that would prevent the new buds from blooming, but Ash was willing to take that chance.

Some part of Ash recognized that he was a little off, a little unlike himself. Spacey. Unfocused. There was a price to spending too long in a place like this, steeping him in a rootless land unanchored to the laws which governed the rest of the world.

The magnitude of what he'd embraced was too large to distill into tiny, convenient truths for a human soul in such a fleeting amount of time; Ash imagined that when he left Pyre, those things would return like green shoots growing anew. Love, family, ambition, pride, duty, everything that drove him to rage against the forces arrayed against his world. It would all come back.

But for now he dwelt in flux.

And he was okay with that.

The blue fire in the back of his mind approved:

Take what you will. Fight for your world.

It disturbed Ash, but he ignored it as he focused his attention upon the Ghost of Pyre. Comfort was a distant thought, even if a small part of him could appreciate the Shade's hunt for knowledge and understanding.

The spectral Aggron whispered into his mind through the mist.

"I have spent eons nurturing this mountain, feeding on countless lives to become what I am today. I grew from a humble shade to something I will never understand entirely." Aggron rumbled. "But what is strength without purpose? My cousin in its tower may grow fat on the experiences of the dead, remembering stolen lives that never belonged to it, but what will they be used for? What will they have died for? When the Draconids came with the hearts of existence, I listened."

Ash recalled the appearance of the Orbs through memories that weren't his own; desperate men and women carrying them in gloved hands, guarded by ghosts, a violet chrysalis in their grip. He knew exactly where they would spirit it away to.

They were haggard, wounded, with nothing but hope behind them.

"We are Pyre. We are Hoenn. And We will not falter."

The Ghost of Pyre faded away then, content with its words, and Ash knelt before the Orbs. "Then let me offer a little more strength," he said, thinking back to his attempt to grasp the terrifying enormity of Groudon. "You'll need it soon enough."

So Ash offered his own memories, his own soul, his own power, all in tribute to the Ghost. Fuel upon its pyre. A sacrifice for its greater good.

His hand upon the earth, his breath in the wind, his sorrow in the sea.

Most of all, Ash reflected upon the day.

It was the winter solstice. The darkest day of the year, yet the one in which the dawn shined the brightest. Light couldn't exist without dark. Countless specters shone within the mists, alight with fire in the infinite fog. Who knew how many belonged to modern mourners and pilgrims versus those which reflected across time.

Perhaps some would consider him mad for it, but Ash drew comfort from that. No matter how awful the odds may be, no matter how strange the situation may appear, he was not alone. Nor was he last.

If nothing else, Mt. Pyre would persist. Perhaps it would raise a savior one day, one who could instill a peace into the wild fury of the planet's bones.

What a year it had been.

He had honed his team. Faced Mamoru. Fought the Legends. Ash had returned from New Island with an unseen passenger. He had conquered the Indigo Conference… mostly, anyways. He'd mastered the Unown and played for the Beasts. He'd given back to the Wish Maker.

He had explored Hoenn, discovered new friends, and delved deep into the unknown. He'd been hurt; a series of soul wounds he'd never have recognized without his family and mentors there to guide and advise him; to teach him to heal without breaking, how to minimize the scars.

The world was a frightful place, yet he had peered into its darkest corners and explored mysteries beyond anything he imagined.

He was loved, and loved in turn.

Life was wonderful, Ash remembered, and he finally knew why.

In the deepest night, the dawn peered just beyond. It glimmered, awaiting his hopeful eyes, and shone bright in the darkest times. The winter had been long. The winter had been harsh. Sometimes the winter has been cruel.

Yet in the end, it had succumbed. Dawn's light had shattered it, splintered the shadows into countless pieces.

Ash's old innocence might have died, but he'd grown far beyond such concerns. The weak edges had been pruned and the best parts of himself had grown far beyond them. Ash could be content with that.

He could be content with being a little more human.

And every revelation he came to was shared with Spiritomb, who hesitantly accepted his tendril of thought as he reflected upon the strange happenings of the last year. The crushing, hollowing apathy was muted beneath the sheer brightness of Ash's thoughts and the smothering power of the mountain.

It drank up Ash's experiences like a man dying of thirst, desperate for more and more. It would take all it could, if Ash let it. An undisciplined mind would be reduced to a shell bereft of feeling, bereft of will, bereft of reason.

He would not succumb to that fate. While Ash had grown accustomed to Spiritomb's frightful power, it still tested him every time he faced it. All it would take was one mistake, one crack, and Ash would be gone.

So he shared a little more, then cut it off. Spiritomb's aura flared, sucking the feeling from him like a black hole, but Ash thought of happy times, angry times, and everything between.

"Are you content with what you are?"

Silence.

Emptyemptyemptyemptyempty

Beneath the shell of apathy burned an inferno beyond anything Ash could stand: hate. It licked at him like a great stream of flame, twisting his insides, whispering murderous whispers from a hundred and eight fractured souls into his thoughts—

Ash squeezed his eyes shut and steadied himself by clutching a gravestone. He hoped that the resident wouldn't be too offended. He exhaled. His breath merged with the mist, which seemed a little kinder all of a sudden. "I thought so," Ash said. He thought to abandon this whole conversation, to peel away from the potential wound he was about to open.

"You need a name," Ash said once he had gathered his courage. He stared directly into the fiery green mockery of a face manifested in the lavender miasma which bled from the keystone. It was expressionless.

"You need a name," Ash repeated. "I won't call you Spiritomb anymore. You're more than what you were made into."

Spiritomb froze. The gaseous lavender ceased its writhing. Green flame stilled. Even the mist around them froze, locked into position by the power radiating from the specter.

He'd managed to surprise it.

Ash gestured to the unnatural growths of the trees all around, to the dark mist crawling over them all like little tendrils. To the pale visages passing by in this timeless place.

"We're adrift here. Loose in time. Loose in space. Free. If there's ever a time, it's now. If there's ever a place, it's here. It's the darkest night of the year, but the dawn is just around the corner." Ash glanced away from the frozen Spiritomb for a time. Some of its sickly cinders twitched, flickering with life once again. "What do you think?"

Emptyemptyemptywrathemptyprideemptyhope.

And with that single flicker of thought, Ash won. He didn't smile, but he wanted to crow his glee to the whole mountain.

It had been a long, long time since he'd done this. Ash tossed out name after name: Flame, Charis, Bastion, Glory, anything that seemed to appeal to that brighter side of Spiritomb. Anything that might let the embodiment of apathy and despair kindle a new spirit within its miserable mass.

That's what this was, after all. It had come to Ash as he wandered Mt. Pyre, cut off from Phoebe on one of their walks by thick walls of mist. Ghosts were ephemeral by nature. They were impermanent, railed against by the natural order, and fought every day to survive. They spawned from chaos and flux, aliens to the world.

Spiritomb was secure in its keystone. It had been forged from natives of this world, after all. Perhaps that, and the stone that it rested within, offered some measure of protection from the ache of remaining stagnant and solid.

But in the end, Spiritomb was Aura. Twisted, warped souls.

Cynthia told him that Aura could change. It was a reflection of what you were, no more and no less. Spiritomb was wild, a tattered mess of constituents leashed together, but at its core it was a creature of emotion and spirit.

So he would give something for that flux to anchor itself to. Something to build a new identity around.

Spiritomb was what it currently existed as. That didn't mean it had to remain that way. Part of Ash felt a little guilty about offering Spiritomb a name before Sneasel, but he'd checked with Sneasel beforehand—if he felt ready to be named, then Ash would help him.

But Sneasel had looked at Ash pensively, considered the Razor Claw clutched in Ash's grip, and shook his head.

Ash had been terribly proud.

Nothing seemed to leap out at Spiritomb. It remained frozen as he tossed suggestion after suggestion its way.

Who knew how long they lingered in the mists? Given how Mt. Pyre worked, it might have been days. Ash had ventured out for hours once, and came back to Grangran's cottage to see a pale reflection of his own back vanishing into the mists. Only seconds had passed for those inside.

That had been weird. It was a little sad that it was far from the strangest thing to happen to him.

"I dream for you," Ash said after a time, pouring his thoughts and feelings through that frayed bond they shared. "I hope that one day you'll forget the darkness and blaze bright as a beacon. That you'll be a light in the dark for those who need it. A symbol of hope, not oblivion. I dream that you'll be reborn."

Spiritomb ached at that, raw wounds exposed as its armor peeled back for a moment, and a storm of a dozen different emotions lashed out and stirred the mists around them. But within that was a flicker of something.

So Ash started again.

Beacon was tossed aside, as was Hope. It flickered somewhat at them, considering both, but there was something missing.

"Rebirth?" Ash murmured, his mind spinning. He threw out a few options that all fell flat, then he thought back to the lessons Emma had taught him in her flower shop back in Lavender. Meanings, symbolism, the subtle language of the petals…

Rebirth. "Lotus?"

Emma told him that the lotus flower embodied purity, spiritual enlightenment, and overcoming adversity. The lotus rose, unstained, from the mud, untouched by its murky surroundings. Ash hoped Spiritomb might leave the darkness behind in the same way.

But all that mattered was that Spiritomb blinked. Its ghastly expression twitched. It wasn't with rage, nor with a howling grief buried beneath its shell. No, the corner of its mouth twisted upward for the briefest moment. Ash almost thought that he had imagined it.

Still, Ash knew that it had happened.

Spiritomb had… Well, to say it had smiled was a bit of a stretch. But the echo of something positive had been there.

That was enough.

"Lotus," Ash said, testing the word, and he smiled at Spiritomb. It had frozen again, some mix of emotions churning within that Ash couldn't hope to identify, but outwardly, the green cinders stirred a little more swiftly, almost alive. "Lotus!"

Another storm.

Ash knelt before Spiritomb, eyes locked onto the empty expression hidden within that purple gas.

"Welcome to the team, Lotus."

XX

"Thanks for spending your time at the Mt. Pyre spa and resort! I hope you enjoyed your stay." Phoebe sang as Ash saddled up Plume. The Pidgeot still looked distrustfully at the mist, discomforted by its curious touch. Plume constantly cooed the notes of Lugia's Song to Ash, soothing him as much as herself. "Please direct any complaints into the nearest dumpster fire and make sure to leave us a five-star review!"

"The service was good," Ash grunted as he pulled a few straps tighter, though he checked with Plume to make sure they weren't too uncomfortable. "The host was kind of weird, though. And she has the most obnoxious battling style I've ever seen. Stall is so boring."

Phoebe blew a raspberry at him. "You're just mad I kept winning. Get good or go cry! Don't lie, though!" She grinned. "You had a good time. And hey, you learned all sorts of nasty tricks! I hope you put them to good use. You're going to need them in the Wallace Cup."

He'd managed to hide most of his advanced techniques from Phoebe, unwilling to give her too much insight before they could fight for real, but that last remark left him blinking. "The what?"

"The Wallace Cup," Phoebe said breezily. "In Lilycove, lots of fancy pants Coordinators, Wallace's most fabulous day of the year. You know, the Wallace Cup!"

Ash stared blankly.

"Have you been living under a rock or something? Wait, don't answer that!" She cut him off. Phoebe's eyes grew wide with delight. "Oh. Oh! YES! Steven didn't even have the decency to warn you? That's incredible!" She cackled in a way that would've made Agatha proud. Dusknoir wheezed beside her. "Oh, sometimes I love that man and his lack of communication skills."

"I knew that I was facing someone in Lilycove," Ash said defensively. "Just not who… Or for what."

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy, it's my lucky day!" Phoebe rubbed her hands together with naked delight. She snapped her fingers. "I have the honor of informing you, Mr. Elite Four Ash, have the illustrious honor to face the glorious, stupendous, stupendously glorious Champion Wallace of the Ever Grande League in an exhibition match in… Oh, three days!"

Silence. Silence all around him. Silence in his head.

Then:

"What."

He hadn't planned at all! He hadn't prepared strategies! He hadn't—agh, there was so much to do!

"I think that little stunt of yours in Fortree ended up being a little too successful. Not just anyone gets to take part in the exhibition match to open the Wallace Cup, you know! And no offense, but my money's not on you this time." Phoebe shook her head. "I know Wallace. His fashion sense leaves something to be desired—and if you ever tell him I said that, they'll never find your body—but he's one hell of a battler. I'm not Grimsley; I don't take losing bets."

His mind ran in circles, panicked. He was doing what?! Fighting who?! In front of, of how many people?! He had to plan!

"That's fine. I know Lance's money will be on me."

"His loss," Phoebe teased. The mist thickened around her, coiling about her slender frame affectionately. "It's been a pleasure to work with you, but you'd best be off. I'll leave you alone to have a mental breakdown in peace. Safe flying!"

He was still dizzy with the frenzied mess of tactics, counterplays, and a labyrinth of possibilities buzzing about in his brain, but Ash numbly nodded as Phoebe vanished into the fog of Mt. Pyre.

Shaking fingers fastened the last clasps of Plume's saddle, and he was quick to haul himself up and secure himself in place.

Lilycove awaited him.

And more than that, a certain friend of his.

"What the hell, Steven?!"

A/N: Ugh, I can't believe that I finally missed a deadline. I'm not too far off, at least! Thanks for your patience and I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! It was a lot of fun to explore Mt. Pyre, which is a place with a ton of lore that I've had built up in my head for ages, and I love writing Phoebe. That being said, I'm VERY excited to make my way to Lilycove. I've really enjoyed writing happy Ash these last few chapters and want to give more of that to him. He's earned it!

Anyways, thanks so much for reading! As always, the mods have been an incredible help in bouncing ideas, fixing grammatical mistakes, and helping to improve the story in a hundred different ways.

I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm going to shoot for the next chapter being released on July 8 - I'll be going on vacation for a bit and juggling another project as well, so I don't think I'll be able to focus as much on Traveler as I'd like. There's always the possibility that I beat it, though. I'd love to get one out in June if I can.

Wallace awaits!