The wind shifted.
Not enough to matter to most. But I noticed. A slight tension in the air. A hush beneath the trees that hadn't been there before. Like something was holding its breath.
The forest was still. Too still. The light cut sharper through the canopy. The colors more vivid, like the whole world had tilted just a degree off normal.
Hearthome was near. I could feel it.
We set up camp at the edge of a long ridge that overlooked the valley basin. Down below, the spires of the city shimmered faintly through the haze, like glass towers dreaming in sleep. It looked peaceful. Beautiful, even.
But I knew better.
Fantina waited there.
And she didn't play fair.
I laid out the training for the day with deliberate precision.
No sparring.
Just drills.
Honedge hovered over a patch of flattened grass, blade angled toward a crude target I'd carved from stone. A mock ghost—nothing but silhouette and broken lines. But it was enough.
"Shadow Sneak. Hit from three directions. No repeats. No delays."
Honedge vanished.
Then struck.
From left. From high. From beneath.
The target cracked.
I didn't nod. I didn't praise. I just marked the time.
Again.
Luxio was pacing nearby, energy flickering off his coat in short, sharp pulses. He could feel it too. The tension. The edge.
"You'll be our breaker. The moment she phases, you lock the area with discharge. Force her to stay solid."
He growled.
Not defiance.
Understanding.
Grotle was slower. But I wasn't expecting speed.
"Defense with aggression. Cover for others. Root when needed. You'll force her ghosts to waste moves. They'll dance around you, not through you."
He chuffed once, low and steady.
Tyrunt was the wild card. The hammer when the subtle tools failed.
But he was thinking now.
Smarter.
He no longer lunged first. He circled. Judged.
I liked that.
I liked them all, but I never said it.
Not aloud.
We trained until the sun dipped.
Then we stopped.
I didn't want to exhaust them. Just sharpen. Refine. Show the plan without forcing it. Let them take ownership of the rhythm.
While they rested, I stood alone at the ridge and watched Hearthome shimmer in the distance.
I thought of what Cynthia had said.
"Winning isn't the same as control."
She was right.
And I wasn't walking into that Gym for the badge.
I was walking in to own the outcome.
No fear. No flinching. No luck.
Just skill.
Just strategy.
Just us.
That night, I dreamed of the ruins again. Of the seal with no lock. Of the blade that waited. But this time, the dream ended differently.
Honedge didn't stay by the seal.
It stood beside me.
And when the nightmare rose, it struck first.