Grimsley stepped aside, the chamber opening to the corridor beyond. The tension that had filled the room bled away in its wake, leaving only the quiet hum of the League's inner halls. I drew a slow breath, steadying myself, then took my first step forward. Skyla didn't let go of my arm.
"You're really about to face her," she said, half-laughing under her breath as we walked. "Cynthia. How crazy is that?"
She wrapped her arm around me.
"I've been trying not to think about it," I replied.
"Yeah, well, I'm thinking about it," she said, glancing at me. "I've only met her once when she visited the gym to meet my grandfather. I hadn't taken over as gym leader then. What do you think the battle will be like?"
"Challenging."
The corridor stretched on, longer than it should have been. Each step echoed, slower than the last, my body finally beginning to feel the weight of everything I'd just done. My team… they had given everything.
At the end of the hall stood the door.
We stopped a few paces from it, both of us falling quiet. The surface gleamed faintly, untouched, waiting.
Then, with a low mechanical hum, the floor shifted.
A circular pedestal rose smoothly from the ground between us and the door, its surface lined with familiar slots.
Skyla let out a breath. "Right. Of course."
I reached for my belt, placing each Poké Ball into the pedestal one by one. There was a rhythm to it.
Light pulsed across the surface as the system activated, accompanied by the soft, melodic chime of the healing sequence. For a few seconds, there was nothing else.
The light dimmed. The tone signaled completion.
I collected each Poké Ball, feeling the renewed energy within them as I returned them to my belt.
"Okay," Skyla said, rolling her shoulders. "Now we're really doing this."
Just as I stepped toward the door, however, I heard footsteps echoing behind us.
They were slow and measured, almost in sync.
We turned to see each member of the Elite Four standing at the far end of the corridor. Grimsley was at the front, hands in his pockets. Caitlin was beside him, unusually still. Shauntal clutched her book, and Marshal stood with his arms crossed.
"You can't go in," Grimsley said.
Skyla frowned. "What?"
"The Champion isn't there."
Silence followed that outrageous claim.
"Cynthia is missing?" Skyla asked in disbelief.
Before anyone could respond, her fists clenched.
"Why weren't we informed?" She asked, referring to the gym leaders. "For fuck's sake, you guys, Lenora's Stoutland is unmatched in tracking. We should have been told."
Marshal stepped forward, arms still crossed. "Mind your tone, Ms. Wright."
Caitlin lifted a hand, waving him off.
"Your frustration is understandable." She sighed. "Truthfully, we weren't expecting you to be accompanying Ms. Morgan."
Skyla's posture softened slightly as she turned to leave.
Then Grimsley chuckled.
"Makes you wonder how Ms. Morgan really acquired the Jet Badge."
Marshal closed his eyes briefly and stepped to the side.
Skyla stopped, going quiet.
Then she pivoted.
Her fist struck Grimsley clean across the face.
"Go fuck yourself, Grimsley."
She turned and walked out, her footsteps sharp against the floor.
Grimsley staggered half a step, then straightened, pinching the bridge of his nose as blood began to run. He glanced at Marshal.
"Don't look at me," Marshal said with a shrug. "You're the one who said it."
I stepped forward, offering him a hand. He took it with a grunt, rising before resetting his nose with a quiet crack.
"My apologies, Ms. Morgan."
I shook my head. "Not necessary, sir."
I looked to the others.
"When Cynthia returns… will you contact me?"
Shauntal stepped forward, taking my hand gently. "Of course, my dear. You'll be the first to know."
I nodded once, then turned and followed Skyla.
I caught up to her near Drayden's battlefield. She hadn't slowed.
"…Skyla."
"What?" she snapped, not breaking stride.
"What was that about? With Grimsley."
She exhaled sharply. "He's always been like that. That attitude, like he's above everything, like none of it really matters. It's annoying."
We stepped into the arena.
It was pristine. Not a single mark remained from the battle.
"Figures," Skyla muttered. "Drayden's probably off training with his dragons."
She crossed her arms, quieter now. "Your mom chose him, you know. As her successor."
I glanced at her.
"She had her reasons," Skyla said. "I just… don't see it."
We reached the teleporter. It hummed faintly at the edge of the platform.
"…Maybe there's something we're missing," she added.
We stepped onto it as the light flared.
When we arrived in the Denver Gym's lobby, the energy from the battle still clung to the air like static.
Skyla turned to me and took my hands.
"I'm sorry for ruining your moment back there."
I sighed softly, shaking my head, more at the fact she felt the need to say it than anything else.
"Skyla… you could never ruin anything for me."
She searched my face for a second, like she didn't quite believe it.
So I closed the distance and kissed her.
That seemed to do the trick.
The walk back to the hotel felt… quieter.
Not empty. Not awkward.
Just… settled.
Like everything we'd been carrying finally had a second to breathe. I'd let Zoey out of her ball.
She padded along at my side, flicking her tail lazily. You two are disgustingly functional, you know that?
Jealous? I muttered.
Deeply.
One more night in Denver before we returned to Santa Monica to figure out what to do next.
Check out the next morning was quick.
Too quick.
The kind of quick that makes everything feel temporary.
The clerk congratulated me as Skyla handled the logistics. I just… stood there, nodding, like my brain was still somewhere back in that arena.
And then we were outside in the cold air.
A taxi waited off the cubr to take us to the airport.
Maybe I just wasn't ready for noise again since the airport sounds gave me a mild headache.
Normal life was rushing back in all at once.
Zoey walked beside me, her typical teenager disguise up again. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her expression calm and unreadable to anyone passing by. To them, she was just another traveler.
You're thinking too loud again.
"…I haven't even said anything."
Exactly.
I exhaled through my nose. "Great. Now I'm getting called out for silent thoughts."
She smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear like nothing was happening.
Skyla nudged me as we stepped onto the plane. "You know what's weird?"
"What?"
She gestured toward the cockpit as we moved down the aisle. "Not being the pilot."
I snorted. "Yeah, I was wondering when that would hit you."
She leaned closer. "I don't like it. I don't trust people who don't let me fly the plane."
"That feels… extremely illegal."
"Only if you get caught."
Zoey slid into the row across from us, crossing her legs casually. To anyone watching, just another passenger settling in.
If she tries to take over the cockpit, I'm not helping.
"Noted," I muttered.
Skyla glanced at me. "What?"
"Nothing."
Skyla took the window seat, already watching the runway like she was mentally critiquing everything.
Zoey rested her chin on her hand across the aisle, eyes half-lidded.
You're spiraling again.
I'm not spiraling.
You're pre-spiraling.
That's not a thing.
It is now.
I huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into my seat.
The noise started to fade as the plane lifted.
The city shrank beneath us until the clouds swallowed the world below.
Zoey's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual.
Get some sleep.
Yeah.
Her expression softened slightly before she looked away.
And then I drifted.
When I opened my eyes, the plane was silent. Not quieter, silent.
No engine, no low hum vibrating through the frame, no muffled chatter, no movement. Just stillness.
"...Skyla?"
I sat up slowly and found the seat beside me empty. The aisle stretched on longer than it should have, rows of seats repeating into a distance that didn't make sense.
"...Zoey?"
There was no answer. Not even a presence.I wasn't sure which was worse.
A flicker ran through the overhead lights. Once. Twice.
Then the lights dimmed.
A faint creak echoed above me. When I looked up, something shifted. Like the space itself had decided to rearrange.
Dakashi lowered from the ceiling, slow and deliberate, his form phasing into existence as if he'd always been there, just out of sight.
"What troubles you?"
His voice didn't have that faint echo that had become so familiar.
I leaned back into my seat, exhaling shakily. "You always pick the creepiest ways to show up, you know that?"
When he didn't react, I rolled my eyes.
"…you already know what's bothering me."
He tilted his head slightly.
"I don't know if we're ready," I admitted. "For Cynthia."
"You are not."
I blinked. "…cool. Awesome. Love that for me."
"She will be the most challenging opponent you will ever face."
There was no arrogance in it. No warning. Just fact.
"Even for those who came before you."
His eyes began to glow, faint at first. The air thickened and pressure started building behind my ears.
Then the plane was gone.
The battlefield cracked beneath a darkened sky, wind tearing across broken stone. I didn't recognize the place, but it felt heavy. It felt important.
Two figures stood at opposite ends.
My chest tightened as one of them came fully into view.
"Mom?"
Chloe stood firm, one hand raised, the other clenched at her side, her expression focused and unwavering. Across from her, Cynthia stood still and composed. She seemed unshaken, like the storm itself was waiting on her.
Tyranitar roared as light engulfed it, spiraling upward in a violent surge to mega-evolve. The ground trembled as it took form.
The power radiated off its armor in waves. Across from it, Garchomp stepped forward like she had seen this a hundred times before.
"Stone Edge!" Chloe called.
Jagged pillars of rock erupted from the battlefield, launching toward Garchomp in a relentless barrage.
Garchomp moved straight toward the incoming projectiles. She carved a path straight through the attack, shattering stone on impact, closing the distance in a single, unstoppable motion.
"Dragon Rush."
The strike hit like a collision, violent and explosive.
Tyranitar was driven backward, its massive frame skidding across fractured stone.
The air cracked as everything tore away.
I was back in my seat. The silence rushed in all at once. Dakashi stood in the aisle now, closer. He inhaled slowly.
I stared at him for a second, then let out a quiet laugh.
"What?" He asked.
"You don't need to mimic breathing for my sake," I said, shaking my head. "We both know you don't breathe."
For just a moment, something flickered in his eyes, not irritation, not amusement… something softer. He looked away, and it was gone.
"Do you remember your Uncle Steven?"
The shift caught me off guard. "I mean… barely. Why?"
"Did your parents ever tell you his last name?"
I frowned. "Not that I can remember. Why?"
He took a measured pause.
"Because Uncle Steven's last name is Stone."
My breath caught.
"As in… Steven Stone?" I sat forward. "The first ever Champion?"
Dakashi nodded once. "The same."
The weight of that settled immediately, heavy and real.
"If anyone can determine whether you are ready," he continued, "it's the man who earned the title first."
I didn't think, didn't question it, I just stood and wrapped my arms around him.
Dakashi froze completely. Like the moment didn't compute.
Then, slowly, awkwardly, his arms lifted and returned it, careful and uncertain, like he wasn't used to being held.
"Hey."
The world snapped back into motion.
Skyla brushed hair from my eyes,
"We landed."
Sound rushed back in all at once, the engines, voices, and movements that signaled arrival. I blinked as sunlight flooded through the window, passengers filling the seats again as if nothing had happened.
"…right," I murmured, sitting up.
As we stood and filed out with the rest, I glanced back down the aisle. Nothing looked out of place, but the feeling of unease stayed.
The weight of that battle. The image of my mom standing against Cynthia and the quiet certainty settling deep in my chest.
Cynthia wasn't just strong.
She was a wall.
The wall.
And somehow, I had to prove I could break it.
The airport in Santa Monica felt brighter than it should have.
Like the world hadn't just shifted under my feet somewhere above the clouds.
People moved around us in a steady current, bags rolling as announcements echoed overhead. Skyla stretched beside me as we stepped off to the side of the terminal, glancing around like she was already mapping out the nearest runway.
I hesitated.
"Hey… you're gonna hate me."
Skyla's brow lifted instantly, a smile already tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Where are we headed?"
"Phoenix," I said, a little more shyly than I meant to.
Her expression froze for half a second.
"…Phoenix."
"Long story short," I added quickly, rubbing the back of my neck, "apparently Steven Stone is a family friend, and Dakashi thinks I should battle him to see if I'm ready for Cynthia."
Skyla blinked.
"…okay," she said slowly, like she was actively deciding not to unpack any of that yet. "And how exactly are we getting to Phoenix?"
I grinned.
Then stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.
"You're the best."
She tilted her head slightly, returning the smile without missing a beat.
"I know."
I pulled back, already reaching for my belt. "Glad we're on the same page."
Skyla narrowed her eyes just a little. "Atrea-"
Too late.
I popped Trilla's Poké Ball open and, in the same motion, returned Zoey before she could even get a word in.
The light flashed, and Trilla appeared, stretching her arms overhead with a dramatic yawn like she'd just woken up from the best nap of her life.
Before I could even speak-
Phoenix, it is.
I blinked.
Then laughed.
Almost like you can read my mind.
She smiled as the air around us shimmered, that familiar pressure building as space itself started to bend. A few nearby travelers paused in confusion, just as the light began to swell.
Skyla grabbed my hand instinctively, already bracing herself.
"Next time," she muttered, "we're taking a plane I can fly."
"Deal," I said.
The teleport flare ignited and in an instant, the airport vanished.
The world warped back into place in a burst of light. The air was warmer here, drier. When the glow faded, we stood just outside a massive building of glass and steel, its surface reflecting the desert sky like a mirror. The Devon Corporation logo stretched across the front in clean, polished lettering.
Skyla let out a low whistle. "Well… this is subtle."
"Yeah," I muttered, staring up at it. "Real low-key."
Trilla folded her arms, looking far too pleased with herself.
Before I could say any more, the front doors slid open, and Steven Stone stepped out to meet us. No fanfare, no buildup, just there, like he'd been expecting us. He smiled the moment he saw me.
"Atrea."
I barely had time to react before he pulled me into a quick, firm hug. It wasn't formal. It was familiar. He stepped back just as easily, turning to Skyla and offering his hand.
"You must be Skyla. I've heard quite a bit about you."
Skyla blinked once, caught off guard, before shaking it. "Hopefully nothing too bad."
"On the contrary. How is Axel doing these days?"
Skyla's expression shifted. "He's… doing well. Still refuses to slow down."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
I glanced between them, then back at him. "…wait. You knew we were coming?"
"A surprise visit from an old friend," Steven said lightly, his gaze drifting just past me, toward my shadow.
"Of course," I muttered.
Skyla sighed. "Yeah, that tracks."
Steven stepped aside, gesturing toward the entrance. "Come. No sense standing out here."
Inside, Devon Corp was even larger than it looked from the outside.
Polished floors, towering glass, sunlight pouring in from above, but Steven didn't slow down.
He led us straight through the building, past employees who barely seemed surprised to see him, toward a massive open space at its core.
It was an atrium built like a battlefield.
"I heard you're looking for a battle, Atrea," Steven said as we stepped onto the platform.
"Yeah."
He turned and walked to the far end without hesitation.
"Then allow me."
He took a deep breath in. Then his eyes sharpened.
"Here is your proving ground."
A low hum filled the air as the PAP barrier flared to life, energy crackling faintly around the field. A referee stepped onto a raised podium just outside its edge, raising a hand.
"This will be a six-on-six battle. The trainer with the most remaining Pokémon at the conclusion will be declared the winner."
The words settled over me, heavy and real. Steven adjusted his cuff slightly, eyes lifting to meet mine.
And just like that there was no more traveling. No more preparing. No more wondering.
Just the battle.