The four teens walked through the forest with Omega in the lead, pushing aside branches and stepping over gnarled roots. The canopy above had thickened, blocking out most of the fading evening light.
"This forest is eerily quiet," Omega commented, scanning the shadows between trees. "There aren't any noticeable fauna in the area. No bird calls. No insect sounds. Nothing."
"Not to mention the creep factor," Gamma muttered, carefully avoiding low-hanging bushes while pulling a wide-eyed Beta by the hand. "I just hope we find a place to rest before it gets dark. And why couldn't those gods have teleported us somewhere closer to civilization?"
Alpha shrugged from the rear, his usual calm demeanor unshaken. "I guess they have limited access to those kinds of things."
"They. Are. Gods! Limited where?!" Gamma threw her free arm up in frustration, nearly smacking Beta in the face. Alpha just grinned and kept walking. "Ugh, you guys are hopeless!"
Hours passed. The last light bled from the sky, leaving them in near-total darkness. Omega produced a small flashlight from his pocket, and Gamma was too tired to ask where he'd been hiding it.
They fell into a single-file line: Omega leading, Gamma and Beta sandwiched in the middle, Alpha bringing up the rear. The forest pressed in around them, every shadow seeming to shift and breathe.
"G-guys, I'm scared," Beta whispered, clutching Gamma's arm with both hands.
"You're telling me?" Gamma whispered back, though she didn't pull away.
"Both of you need to get over it," Alpha called from behind, his voice infuriatingly casual. "Look at Omega. The guy practically makes out with books, but he's up there doing the most dangerous job right now."
Alpha leaned between them and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Which also gives us a perfect view of his bubble butt."
Gamma snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth. Beta's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
"I always thought it was a bit plump," Gamma added, struggling to contain herself.
"One time, I asked if we could trade body types," Alpha continued, "and he literally called the adults saying I was violating his bodily image with 'passive-aggressive, backhanded compliments.'"
"Were you given disciplinary action for that?" Beta asked, genuinely curious.
"Yep. And it was totally worth it to see his blushing, annoyed face."
"I can hear you whispering," Omega said without turning around, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Focus on the road ahead, not the fun behind," Alpha shot back, grinning.
Omega stopped walking. He pinched the bridge of his nose—a gesture Gamma had come to recognize as him mentally counting to ten. "I was going to tell you that I found a suitable shelter for the night. But if you'd rather discuss my posterior, by all means, continue."
"Really?!" Gamma's exhaustion evaporated. She pushed past Omega and Beta, practically sprinting ahead. "I hope they have running water. I need a bath."
She burst through a final line of bushes and skidded to a halt.
The clearing beyond held a cabin. A large cabin, two stories tall with a wraparound porch and a stone chimney. It might have been picturesque once.
Emphasis on might have been.
The roof sagged in the middle like a tired old man. Several windows were boarded over; others were simply empty holes. The porch stairs had collapsed on one side, and the whole structure seemed to be held together by moss and optimism.
Gamma visibly cringed. "This is what you call suitable?"
Omega emerged from the bushes behind her, brushing leaves from his new clothes. "It's structurally intact enough to provide shelter. The roof, while compromised, hasn't fully collapsed. And we won't find better before full dark."
Alpha studied the cabin with narrowed eyes. "I don't like it. Feels... watched."
"Since when are you the sensitive one?" Gamma asked.
"Since always. You just never listen."
Beta pressed closer to Gamma, his earlier laughter forgotten. "M-maybe we should keep walking?"
"Absolutely not." Omega was already moving toward the cabin. "We're exhausted, dehydrated, and operating on unknown time. Shelter is non-negotiable."
He pushed the front door open. It groaned like a dying animal but swung inward without resistance.
"Just get inside already," he sighed, gesturing for the others to follow.
The interior was dark and dusty but surprisingly intact. Old furniture sat beneath sheets. A stone fireplace dominated one wall. Stairs creaked upward into deeper darkness.
"Hey, there's a light switch here!" Gamma flipped it hopefully.
Nothing happened.
"Of course," she groaned. "No power. Why would an abandoned cabin in another dimension have power?"
"That's not entirely accurate."
They turned. Omega had wandered into a side room and stood staring at something they couldn't see.
"There's a humming sound coming from back here," he said. "And a light."
They crowded into the small utility room. In the center sat an old generator, its metal casing rusted but intact. Wires ran from it into the walls, disappearing through holes drilled decades ago.
But the generator wasn't running.
The humming was coming from inside it.
Four faint glows pulsed within the generator's casing—red, blue, yellow, and purple. They moved like living things, sliding through the machine's components as easily as fish through water.
"What... what are those?" Beta breathed, actually letting go of Gamma's arm to step closer.
Omega grabbed his shoulder. "Don't approach. We have no idea—"
The red glow stopped moving.
It turned toward them.
Four sets of eyes—or something like eyes—locked onto the humans. For one terrible, frozen second, no one moved or breathed.
Then the red one screamed.
Not a sound—something deeper, a pulse that vibrated in their bones. The generator's lights flickered wildly. The other three glows joined in, and suddenly the creatures poured out of the machine like living lightning.
"Duck!" Alpha shouted.
Too late.
The red shape slammed into Gamma's bag. She shrieked and stumbled backward. Purple hit Alpha's pocket. Blue struck Beta's chest. Yellow dove straight at Omega's hand—specifically, at the phone he was still holding.
Then—stillness.
The four teens stared at each other, panting. Gamma's bag smoked faintly. Alpha patted his pocket frantically. Beta looked down at his own chest, then at his hands, then back at his chest.
"What... just happened?" Gamma whispered.
Her phone buzzed.
They all pulled out their devices simultaneously. The screens, dark and unresponsive moments ago, now glowed with soft light. And on each screen, a small face peered back at them.
"They're... in our phones," Beta said slowly, watching the blue shape dart across his display. It moved like it was swimming inside the screen.
"I believe they are our phones now," Omega murmured, turning his device over in his hands. The yellow shape followed the movement, staying perfectly oriented. "They've integrated with the hardware somehow. Are they powering the devices directly?"
"Fascinating?!" Gamma shrieked. "There's a ghost in my phone!"
"That's a reasonable description, actually," Omega said, still studying his screen. "They appear to be some form of energy-based life. Possibly elemental. The way they moved through the generator suggests they can inhabit and manipulate electrical systems."
"Can you not be a researcher for five minutes?!"
A sound stopped her.
From outside. Multiple sounds—rustling, slithering, heavy footsteps.
The cabin's front door, which they'd left open, framed four silhouettes.
The first floated at eye level—a purple, gaseous sphere with a wide, unnerving grin and eyes that gleamed with malice. It drifted forward, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Gastly."
The second emerged from the trees behind it—a long, pink serpentine body with a white pearl on its forehead. It slithered with an almost regal grace, scales shimmering in the moonlight.
"Dratini."
The third was massive, easily eight feet tall, a brown creature with a cream-colored underbelly and a pouch on its stomach. Inside that pouch, a smaller version of itself peered out with curious eyes. The mother's gaze was anything but curious—it was furious.
"Kangaskhan."
The fourth simply appeared, as if it had been there all along—a small yellow fox with its eyes closed, sitting perfectly still. It gave no indication it had moved at all.
"Abra."
The teens pressed together instinctively. Four creatures. Four of them. The symmetry was not lost on Omega.
"I don't think they're happy to see us," Alpha muttered, already shifting into a defensive stance.
The Gastly drifted further into the room. Its eyes fixed on their phones—on the four faces still visible on the screens. The Rotom inside darted nervously, and the Gastly's grin somehow widened.
"Gastly!" it cried, and the sound was sharp, demanding. It gestured with what might have been a limb toward the phones.
"I think it wants the phone creatures," Gamma whispered.
"No," Omega said slowly, watching the Gastly's expression. "I think it knows them. Look—it's not angry at the Rotom. It's angry at us."
The Kangaskhan took a thundering step forward, and the floor groaned under its weight. The baby in its pouch pointed at them and made a small, curious sound.
"Kanga?"
The mother roared.
"KANGASKHAN!"
The sound was deafening. The teens stumbled backward. Beta tripped over a loose floorboard and went down hard, pulling Gamma with him.
The Dratini hissed, coiling its body, the pearl on its forehead beginning to glow with eerie light.
"Drrrratini!"
"We need to RUN!" Alpha grabbed Gamma's arm, hauling her up. Omega snatched Beta's collar and dragged him toward the back door.
The Gastly's eyes narrowed. It floated higher, and for a moment, the room seemed to darken around it.
"Gastly!"
The Dratini lunged.`
GAMMA
She burst through the back door into darkness. Branches clawed at her face. Roots grabbed her feet. She ran blindly, heart pounding, until she tripped and tumbled down a small embankment.
When she stopped rolling, the forest was silent.
Too silent.
She pushed herself up, gasping, and looked around. No sign of the cabin. No sign of the others. Just trees and shadows and moonlight.
And the yellow fox, sitting three feet away, watching her with suddenly open eyes.
Gamma screamed.
The Abra blinked. Then, slowly, it closed its eyes again.
"What—how did you—where are my friends?!" Gamma scrambled backward until her spine hit a tree. Her phone buzzed frantically in her pocket. She pulled it out—the purple Rotom inside was darting in panicked circles.
"I don't—I can't—" Gamma looked from her phone to the Abra and back. "What do you want?!"
The Abra did nothing. Just sat there. Waiting.
Gamma's breathing slowly steadied. The creature wasn't attacking. It wasn't even moving. It was just... watching.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. You're not killing me. That's good. That's... that's something."
The Abra's ear twitched.
Gamma's phone buzzed again. The Rotom had stopped circling and was now pressing against the screen, seemingly trying to see the Abra better.
"You know it?" Gamma asked softly. "The yellow fox? Is it... like you?"
The Rotom made no sound, but it tilted in a way that might have been acknowledgment.
Gamma looked at the Abra. The Abra looked at... nothing, because its eyes were closed again.
"Great," she muttered. "I'm trapped in a forest with a sleeping fox and a ghost phone. This is fine. Everything is fine."
ALPHA
He ran.
Not blindly—he'd trained for combat scenarios his whole life. He ducked under branches, leaped over roots, kept his breathing measured despite the adrenaline.
The Kangaskhan was faster.
It appeared to his left, blocking that path. He veered right—it was there, massive body cutting him off. He spun, tried to go back the way he came—
The baby in its pouch pointed at him and made a sound.
"Kanga!"
Almost cheerful. Like it was playing a game.
The mother was not playing.
"KANGASKHAN!"
She lunged. Alpha dodged, rolled, came up running—straight into a tree. He bounced off, stunned, and before he could recover, the Kangaskhan was right there, towering over him, one massive hand raised.
Then it stopped.
The baby was waving at him.
Alpha stared up at the creature, chest heaving. "You... you're not going to hit me?"
The Kangaskhan's eyes narrowed. It lowered its hand—and pointed. Into the deeper forest. Away from the cabin. Away from his friends.
"You want me to go that way?"
"Kangaskhan." Firm. Unarguable.
Alpha's phone buzzed. He pulled it out—the purple Rotom inside was watching, its tiny face anxious. He looked at the Kangaskhan, at its baby, at the dark forest behind them.
"If I go... will you let me find my friends later?"
The Kangaskhan just stared.
The baby waved again.
Alpha sighed, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and started walking in the direction the creature had pointed.
"Fine. But when I get out of this, I'm so telling Gamma she owes me big time."
Behind him, the Kangaskhan watched until he disappeared into the darkness. Then, with a soft sound to her baby, she turned and vanished into the trees.
BETA
He fell into a stream.
The cold shock stole his breath. He flailed, swallowed water, coughed, and finally managed to drag himself onto the opposite bank, soaking wet and shivering.
When he looked up, the pink serpent was coiled on the bank three feet away, watching him.
Beta froze.
It was beautiful. Not terrifying—beautiful. The way its scales caught the moonlight. The graceful curve of its body. The intelligence in those dark, knowing eyes.
"You're... you're amazing," he whispered without thinking.
The Dratini's head tilted. Its pearl glowed faintly.
"Drrr... tini?"
The sound was questioning. Curious. Not hostile.
Beta's heart pounded, but something else was happening too—something he didn't expect. He was a doctor. A healer. He'd spent his life studying living things, nurturing plants, understanding how life worked.
And this creature... it wasn't attacking. It was observing. Just like him.
"I'm Beta," he said softly. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
The Dratini's eyes narrowed slightly. Then it moved—not attacking, just closer, sliding through the undergrowth until it was near enough to touch.
Beta held his breath.
The Dratini studied him. He studied it back.
Neither moved.
Then Beta's phone buzzed. He pulled it out slowly—the blue Rotom inside was watching the Dratini with what might have been recognition. The Dratini's eyes flicked to the phone, then back to Beta.
"Tini."
It wasn't angry. It was... waiting.
Beta had no idea what to do next. But for the first time since arriving in this world, he didn't feel scared.
He felt curious.
OMEGA
He hadn't run.
Running was illogical. The creature was clearly faster, clearly capable of pursuit, and the forest was unknown territory. Flight without data was simply moving toward a different unknown.
So he stood his ground as the purple Gastly drifted closer, its grin never wavering.
The others' screams faded into the distance. Then stopped altogether.
"You've separated us," Omega observed, pleased that his voice remained steady. "Strategic. Divide and conquer. Or perhaps you're simply protecting your territory."
The Gastly drifted in a slow circle around him. Omega turned to keep it in sight.
"Gastly."
The sound was sharp. Demanding. The creature pointed with what might have been a limb toward Omega's pocket—toward his phone.
"You want the Rotom," Omega said. "The creature in my device."
"Gastly!" More insistent this time.
Omega pulled out his phone. The yellow Rotom inside was darting nervously, and when the Gastly drifted closer, it pressed against the screen as if trying to reach it.
"You know each other," Omega murmured. "Family? Friends?"
The Gastly's eyes narrowed. It floated closer still, close enough that Omega could feel the cold radiating from its gaseous body. It stared at him. Then at the Rotom. Then back at him.
"Gast... ly."
Softer now. Questioning.
Omega understood. It wasn't asking about the Rotom anymore. It was asking about him.
What are you? Why are you here? What do you want?
"I don't know if you can understand me," Omega said slowly. "But I'll tell you anyway. We came from another world. Another dimension. We didn't mean to intrude on your home. We didn't mean to take your... friends. It was an accident."
The Gastly's expression didn't change—that grin was permanent—but something in its eyes shifted.
"We're lost," Omega continued. "Alone. Scared, if I'm being honest, though I hate admitting it. We just want to survive. To understand this world. To find a way to live in it."
He held up his phone. The Rotom pressed against the glass.
"And I think... I think your friend chose mine for a reason. I don't know what that reason is. But I'd like to find out."
The Gastly was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, it drifted backward—not leaving, just creating distance.
"Gastly."
It turned and floated into the trees. Then stopped. Looked back.
Waiting.
Omega's breath caught. "You want me to follow?"
"Gast."
A single sound. An answer.
Omega looked at his phone. The yellow Rotom stared back, its tiny face unreadable.
"Well," he murmured. "This is either very brave or very stupid."
He followed the Gastly into the darkness.
In four different parts of the forest, four teenagers walked alone with strange creatures beside them—or ahead of them, or watching them, or waiting for them to move first.
The night pressed in around them.
And somewhere ahead, four paths waited to be walked.