The tremor stopped, but the echo of it stayed in Cyrus's bones. The inn's lanterns swayed on their hooks, the stew bowls rattled, and a few patrons yelped. Chairs scraped as people ducked under tables.
Then silence again.
That eerie, waiting kind.
Kina's hand hovered near her belt — not grabbing a Poké Ball, just close. Growlithe pressed against her shin, hackles raised.
Cyrus exhaled. "Okay. Yup. That was the 'go home and panic' kind of movement."
Kina shot him a warning glance. No jokes right now.
He shut up.
Harlan hurried to the window, peering toward the mountain. Noctowl clung to his shoulder, feathers fluffed. The ranger's mouth tightened, but he forced himself to look calm before turning back.
"That wasn't a charge," he said quietly. "That was a shift. Like it's adjusting itself."
"Adjusting," Cyrus repeated, "like someone with a pulled muscle turning over in bed."
"Exactly." Harlan didn't sugarcoat it. "It's awake."
Kina cursed under her breath.
Sliggoo trembled in her hood.
Ditto slid down Cyrus's shoulder and coiled around his arm, trying to anchor him like it always did when the vibes dipped toward bad.
Cyrus swallowed. "We'll regroup upstairs after we finish planning."
Harlan nodded. "I'll be here early morning with the maps. Don't go up there without me."
"Not planning to," Cyrus said.
The ranger ducked out, leaving them with the anxious quiet of a town pretending everything was normal.
Upstairs at the Inn
Their room was small — one window, two narrow beds, a battered dresser, and a washbasin that had definitely seen better decades. The walls creaked whenever someone walked in the hall. But the moment the door shut, the chaos of downstairs faded.
Kina dropped her bag by the bed and peeled off her jacket. Sliggoo slurped its way down her back and onto the blanket, curling into a lilac puddle.
Cyrus collapsed onto his own mattress, Ditto sloshing beside him like spilled paint.
For a minute neither of them said anything.
Just breathing.
Just trying to land mentally after everything.
Finally Kina broke the quiet.
"You said something earlier," she murmured. "About the crater. How everything felt like a wound."
Cyrus nodded. "Yeah."
"And the shell being cracked."
He hesitated. "It fits."
Kina paced softly between the beds, hands clasped behind her back again — her thinking posture. "Then the question isn't just what caused the crack. It's whether it's getting worse."
"It is," Cyrus said. "That tremor wasn't rage. It was discomfort. Heavy discomfort."
Kina's jaw clenched. "And if the shell keeps deteriorating…"
"It'll get louder," Cyrus said. "And more violent."
She stopped pacing. "We need help."
Cyrus having already been considering been running through idea"I know."
"And not just Harlan's files." She turned fully toward him, eyes hard. "You need to call your family."
Cyrus groaned, covering his face. "I don't want to drag them into this unless I have to."
Kina's voice softened. "Cyrus. The Titan is literally big enough to flatten this whole town by accident. If anyone has tech that might stabilize a shell that size, it's them."
He didn't argue.
Couldn't.
Because she was right.
Ditto formed a little hand and patted his shoulder, encouraging.
Cyrus sighed. "Fine. Let me change shirts first. I look like a swamp creature."
"You smell like one too," Kina muttered.
Cyrus tossed a pillow at her.
She dodged, finally managing half of a smirk.
He set up on the bed closest to the window for better reception. The wind whistled faintly outside, brushing through the inn's old shutters.
He opened his encrypted channel.
Found the contact.
Mom & Dad — King Co. Line
Kina leaned against the dresser, arms folded, giving him space but still there — steady presence, grounded, waiting.
Cyrus hit CALL.
It rang once.
Twice.
On the third ring, his mother appeared.
Hair tied back. Sharp eyes. The kind of expression that could slice steel.
"Cyrus? Honey, it's late—are you alright?"
Cyrus didn't ease into it. "We found something on the mountain. Something huge. It's bad."
Kina moved closer so she was within view.
His mother's brows lifted. "Kina. Good evening."
"Ma'am," Kina said politely.
Cyrus's father slid into frame behind his wife, already tapping through holo-screens like he'd been summoned to a crisis briefing.
"Show us," he said.
Cyrus pulled up his wrist holoscan and sent the images he took earlier — the crater, the acid-burned trees, the tracks, and the faint, massive body impression left under the earth's surface.
His father's face fell into seriousness.
His mother leaned forward, jaw tightening.
"This… is Titan-level," she whispered. "Not metaphorically. Literally."
"That's what we think too," Cyrus said. "A Goodra. Ancient lineage. Possibly the kind that used to guard regions before Pokéball systems existed."
"And you're saying it's moving again?" his father asked.
Cyrus nodded. "And the shell is cracked."
That got the reaction he expected.
Both parents went very still.
His father said, "The shell of a Titan Goodra is not like a normal Goodra's membrane. It's a hardened, layered biostructure—keratin, polysaccharide, and mineral bonding. It doesn't break unless something catastrophic hits it."
"It's been broken before," Kina said. "Old records confirmed it. And this one never healed right. Each time it wakes, it gets worse."
His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. "That explains the tremors you mentioned."
Cyrus added, "We need something that can hold the shell in place. Temporarily. Long enough for natural regeneration."
His parents exchanged a look.
And then his father said the words Cyrus had been hoping for: "We might have something."
Cyrus sat up straighter.
Kina's eyes sharpened.
His mother leaned closer. "It's experimental. Barely field-tested. Designed to stabilize large-scale cracked biological surfaces — originally meant for supporting weakened shell structures in conservation facilities. It's called an Adaptive Structural Binder."
Cyrus blinked. "You made duct tape for giant shells."
"Extremely advanced, very expensive duct tape," his father said dryly. "It bonds biologically without interfering with growth processes."
Kina shifted. "Will it hurt the Titan?"
"No," his mother said. "It should relieve pressure."
Cyrus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Okay. Great. How do we use it?"
"Slowly," his father said. "And carefully. We'll send deployment instructions once we analyze your scan data. Get close-up readings tomorrow. Safely."
Cyrus nodded. "We're climbing back up at dawn."
His mother hesitated for a moment before saying quietly: "Cyrus… please be careful. Pokémon in pain aren't predictable, and Titans are just that much worse."
Kina spoke before Cyrus could respond. "I'll keep him in one piece."
His mom's lips twitched. "Good. Someone has to."
Cyrus groaned. "I'm literally right here."
The call ended with his parents promising to send a full diagnostic packet by morning.
The moment the screen went dark, Cyrus sagged back on the bed.
Kina exhaled. "Well. That's something."
"Yeah," he said. "Still terrifying. But something."
The Plan (Or Something Like One)
Kina sat on the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees. Growlithe curled at her feet, Sliggoo resting beside her hip.
Ditto hummed quietly, flattening over Cyrus's lap like a blanket.
"We need more than just tech," Kina said. "Even if the binder works, we have to reach the crack."
"Which means getting close," Cyrus said.
"Dangerously close."
Kina, "Yup."
She stared at the floorboards for a long moment.
"When we were up there today," she murmured, "I kept thinking… it didn't feel like anger. It felt like distress."
"That's exactly what it was."
"And if we help it," Kina added, "it might stop the Bloodmoon aggression. The whole ridge might stabilize."
Cyrus nodded. "Everything's connected up there."
Another quiet moment stretched.
Then Kina said, "Your parents trust you a lot."
Cyrus blinked. "What do you mean?"
"They didn't try to stop you. They just gave you what you needed." She nudged her boot against the wood. "That's rare."
"They know I won't do something stupid."
Kina looked at him like she very much doubted that.
He coughed. "Anymore."
She snorted softly — not mocking, just tired amusement.
Her eyes drifted to the window then, watching the silhouette of the mountain in the moonlight.
"You scared me earlier," she said quietly.
Cyrus froze. "When?"
"When the Ursaluna ran at you. And you didn't move." She wasn't angry exactly — but close. "You can't freeze like that again. I need you…functional."
He swallowed noticing the pause, but worried about reading into just gave a generic, "I know."
"Good." Her gaze softened. "We've got too much to do."
Then a pause… silence followed.
The air between them thickened in a weird, quiet way.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
But charged, like the first spark before a storm.
Kina stood abruptly, brushing hair behind her ear like the moment had made her too aware of her own existence.
"Okay. We need rest," she said briskly. "We're climbing early."
"Yeah," Cyrus said, equally brisk. "Sleep is good. Big fan of sleep."
Kina smirked. "You? Sleep? You're going to lie awake thinking about shell density and mountain trajectories."
Cyrus threw a sock at her.
Finally — finally — she actually laughed.
Not a big laugh.
But a real one.
It felt like a small victory.
Late Night
Kina fell asleep faster than he expected — curled sideways, Sliggoo tucked against her chest, Growlithe sprawled across her legs like a weighted blanket.
Her breathing steadied. Calm. Rhythmic.
Cyrus lay awake in the moonlight, Ditto warm against his shoulder.
He stared at the ceiling.
Thinking about the Titan.
Thinking about the crack.
Thinking about the binder prototype.
Thinking about Harlan's warning.
Thinking about the tremor.
And — reluctantly — thinking about Kina.
Not in a dramatic "I'm in love" way.
Just taking a moment to recognize and appreciate her beauty.
He sighed, rubbing his face giving in to his exhaustion.
Ditto poked him in the cheek.
"Yeah," he whispered. "I know. Big day tomorrow."
Ditto made a small gurgle of agreement.
Outside, somewhere far beyond Ashfall Crossing, another low, distant groan rolled down the mountain.
Soft.
But unmistakable.
The Titan was awake.
And waiting.