Pokemon: Echoes of the dusk

The gates of Ravios rose high before them, flanked by towers of pale stone and steel-plated guards.

Even from this distance, the city buzzed with life banners fluttering, voices echoing, wagons rolling in, flags cresting the breeze. The smell of spices and forge-smoke drifted on the wind.

And yet, for Shion, it all felt… muted.

He sat in the back of the wagon, staring ahead, his hands clenched around the edge of the cart as the walls grew closer and closer. Each rumble of the wheels was a reminder:

This is it.

They had arrived.

After weeks on the road.

After wild fights, ruined towns, quiet nights, and berry pies shared under starlight…

They had reached the capital.

The end of their shared road.

---

But before they could pass through the great gates of Ravios, they had to wait.

A long line had formed wagons stacked three across, traders shouting about grain weight and tax stamps, travelers arguing with bored guards, children crying in the heat.

Dunlin pulled the cart into the waiting line without complaint, adjusting his hat low over his eyes. "Knew this would happen," he muttered. "Should've left yesterday…"

Shion barely heard him.

He stared straight ahead.

Fena, seated on the wagon rail, glanced at him.

"You're brooding."

He didn't respond.

She leaned closer. "Hey. Don't go full statue on us now."

Still nothing.

She tilted her head and spoke more gently. "How are you feeling, Shion?"

He opened his mouth then closed it.

He didn't know how to answer. Didn't even know what the feeling was. Not sadness. Not really. Not fear. Just…

Hollow.

The line crawled forward.

Occasionally, guards moved through to inspect crates or check permits.

And then, without warning

A loud murmur rippled through the crowd.

People began pointing toward the eastern road where a dust cloud had begun to rise.

Shion blinked and stood to get a better view.

From the crest of the hill came a large Arcanine, galloping at speed its coat gleaming like fire-glass, armor strapped across its sides.

Riding it was a tall woman in shining silver and white plate, cape fluttering behind her like a comet's tail.

Commander Seris.

Behind her, four other knights followed all mounted, all armed, all bearing the royal crest of Ravelle.

"Woah," Fena said. "That's… not someone you see every day."

Jareth gave a grunt of recognition. "That's Seris. Silver Blade of Ravelle. Strongest knight in the Capital."

Shion watched as the Arcanine leapt past the checkpoint and into the city without stopping. The guards saluted. People moved aside. A breeze caught the commander's cloak just long enough for Shion to catch a glimpse of the face beneath the helmet of one of the knights following her.

And for a heartbeat

He blinked.

Something about that figure looked familiar.

Familiar in a way that tugged at a distant memory.

But then the moment passed.

The line moved forward.

Shion didn't think much of it.

Eventually — finally — they reached the front.

Dunlin stood, handed over a stamped parchment. "Trade pass. Route from Bellmire. Three passengers. Mudsdale cargo rated."

The guard barely glanced at it. "Move along."

The gate creaked open.

And the wagon rolled forward.

Ravios opened up like a dream.

Not a city. A kingdom within a kingdom.

Massive avenues paved with polished stone. Trees planted in neat rows beside carved fountains. Buildings that stood five stories high, arched with glass and towered with banners. Marketplaces teeming with fruit stands and potion shops, blacksmiths working beside alchemists, artists sketching street scenes while children chased Rattata through the alleys.

But Shion didn't look.

Because they weren't stopping to marvel.

Dunlin guided the wagon forward, deeper into the inner rings. Toward a quieter district near the south quarter where caravan permits were handled and adventurer guild routes assigned.

There, beside a quiet plaza lined with ivy-covered walls, Dunlin pulled the cart to a stop.

No words at first.

Just the creak of leather and the soft thunk of boots hitting stone as each of them stepped down.

Dunlin reached into his satchel and handed Fena and Jareth each a small cloth pouch. Then one more, which he offered to Shion.

"For the road," he said gruffly. "Not that I expect you to spend it wisely."

Shion took it. "Thank you."

Dunlin scratched his beard. "Wasn't a bad trip, all things considered. Bit too much near-death for my liking. And the pies never lasted more than two days."

He looked at Shion for a long moment. Then gave a slight nod.

"Keep your head on straight, boy. You're better than you think."

Shion bowed slightly. "Thanks, Dunlin. For everything."

Jareth crossed his arms.

"You've come a long way," he said. "Kiba's gotten stronger now. You don't freeze mid-battle. And your Golurk doesn't knock down every barn anymore."

A pause.

"…Most of the time."

Shion chuckled softly.

"Thanks for all the training," he said. "You made me better."

Jareth shrugged. "I didn't do much. Just made you swing until your arms hurt."

"That helped."

Jareth nodded, then stepped away with his usual calm.

"Don't forget to train."

Fena stepped forward next.

Her usual smirk was gone replaced by a soft, bittersweet expression.

"You're not the nerous kid I met at Avia hollow anymore."

"I'm still nervous sometimes."

She smiled. "Good. Means you're still human."

Shion looked at her.

"You taught me a lot," he said. "About more than just herbs and status effects."

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll bump into each other again. If fate allows."

Shion nodded. "I hope so."

And then…

They were gone.

Jareth gave a final wave as he disappeared into the crowd, his Lairon trailing behind.

Fena vanished into a side street, flipping her notebook open before even turning the corner.

Dunlin mounted back onto the wagon, muttering to Mudsdale as they turned down a merchant path toward the trade quarters.

And Shion stood there.

Alone.

The plaza was bright with sun. Voices echoed through the streets. Carriages clattered by.

But none of it reached him.

He stared after them for a long time.

He didn't move.

Not even when Bidoof climbed up beside him and muttered, "Well, now you've done it. You've gone and grown up."

Shion didn't answer.

His eyes were shining.

Tears slipped down his cheeks slow, quiet, not the kind that demanded attention.

He didn't sob.

He just let them fall.

The weight of it hit him all at once the goodbyes, the laughter, the nights around the fire, the sound of Jareth's dry voice, Fena's endless sarcasm, Dunlin's grumbling, the clatter of wheels on the open road.

The journey they'd shared.

The bond they'd built.

Gone.

Not forever.

But changed.

After a long moment, Shion wiped his face.

Straightened his scarf.

Looked ahead.

The city of Ravios lay before him.

And so, with Bidoof still silently beside him, Shion took his first step into the next chapter.

---

The streets of Ravios bustled with life knights on patrol, merchants calling out their wares, and students from the prestigious Academy walking in clusters, their capes fluttering behind them.

But Ren barely heard any of it.

He stood near the main thoroughfare, where the sunlight filtered through cathedral-like arches of stone and stained glass. People passed by without noticing the young man in worn travel gear, his hand resting near Lucario's Poké Ball on his belt.

His gaze lingered on the front gates, as if trying to retrace something in his mind.

That guy…

He was sure he'd seen someone there just a brief glimpse. Messy brown hair, green scarf fluttering slightly. Familiar. Too familiar.

But the crowd had swallowed him before Ren could look twice.

"Ren?" Thomas asked, glancing at him as he approached with Lia. "You okay? You've been staring at the gate for a while."

Ren blinked, then gave a slight shake of his head.

"...It's nothing."

He turned away.

But the thought stayed.

---

Far from Ravios...

Beyond the bustling capital, past the golden fields of Ravelle and the forested ridges of Bellmire, the land withered and blackened.

A place where grass no longer grew.

Where no bird sang.

Where the wind itself whispered in broken tongues.

The Deadlands scorched heart of Elvaris.

Here, in the shadow of cracked mountains and molten stone, the sky shimmered. The very air bent and twisted.

And then...

A ripple.

A faint tremor in the veil between worlds.

A tear in space itself small, almost harmless-looking.

And from that rift...

Floated a small, purple creature with gleaming eyes and a curious headcrest innocent and otherworldly.

It hovered silently for a moment, blinking as it took in the desolate terrain.

No towers. No lights. No warmth.

Just silence.

And ash.

It tilted its head, confused.

Then gently fluttered upward into the darkening sky.

Searching.

Unaware of the chaos its kind once unleashed upon this world.

Unaware of the seal it had just slipped through.

Unaware of the new echo beginning to stir.

Act 1 -End

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