Lorelei's Gym – Glacier Arena
The cheers were fading now.
The battlefield—scarred by battles of fire, ice, and will—stood silent once more.
Skylar approached Lorelei, cradling the Glacier Emblem in his hand.
His heart still pounded from the rush of victory, but his mind remained respectful.
He bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you," he said.
Lorelei regarded him with her calm, piercing gaze.
Then—smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Proud.
Unexpected.
"You have grown much, Skylar of Sinnoh," she said quietly."You remind me… of the beginning of many legends."
Skylar scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.
He was about to respond when his honesty—his unfiltered self—came through.
"Honestly…" he said sheepishly, "I only won because you didn't use your full team."
He looked her straight in the eyes.
"And because you only used one Pokémon close to your ace."
Lorelei blinked.
Then threw back her head and laughed softly.
Not mocking.
But delighted.
"You are more perceptive than most League Champions," she said."And humble. A rare combination."
Skylar smiled awkwardly.
He bowed again.
"I hope," he said quietly, "that one day, I can fight you when you're serious."
Lorelei's smile deepened.
"Perhaps," she said.
"One day."
She watched as Skylar turned and began walking away—toward the next chapter of his journey.
Toward the League.
Toward his destiny.
But as she stood there, a new voice interrupted the silence.
"Really, Aunt Lorelei?" the voice drawled, full of polished arrogance.
"You gave him a badge?"
Lorelei turned.
From the shadows behind the stands, a young woman stepped forward.
She was beautiful.
Elegant.
Impeccably dressed.
Her long hair shimmered like silver under the artificial aurora.
Her posture was perfect, almost regal.
Her eyes, however—
Were sharp.
Judgmental.
Calculating.
Giselle.
Her niece.
A top graduate of the prestigious Pokémon Royal Academy.
An elite among elites.
Or so she believed.
Giselle crossed her arms and tilted her head, expression cool and disdainful.
"If you had used your real team," she said sharply, "you would have crushed that boy in five minutes."
Lorelei smiled softly.
"Giselle," she said gently, "you didn't see what I saw."
"He's a genius in battle."
Giselle scoffed.
"A genius?" she said, voice dripping with skepticism.
"He's just another field trainer. No formal Academy training. No scholarly combat certifications."
She flipped her hair dismissively.
"He's an instinct fighter. Wild. Unrefined."
Lorelei shook her head slowly.
"Giselle," she said, "the Academy is a good thing."
"But there are truths no school can teach you."
Her voice softened even more.
"You can only learn them by traveling."
"By losing."
"By surviving."
Giselle's expression hardened.
She clenched her fists.
"You're wrong," she snapped.
"I'll prove it."
Her eyes gleamed with ambition.
"I'll show you—and him—that a true scholar can outmatch any wild talent."
Lorelei's gaze was patient.
Understanding.
But deep in her eyes—there was a sadness too.
Because she knew that battle alone would not teach Giselle what she needed most.
But she said nothing more.
She simply watched as her proud, headstrong niece turned sharply on her heel and stormed away into the misty corridors of the Gym.
Lorelei turned her gaze back to the retreating figure of Skylar.
A lone boy stepping toward greatness.
She smiled faintly.
Softly.
"I wonder," she murmured, "how long it will take before your paths cross."
"And what kind of world will be waiting when they do."
Above them, the aurora lights shimmered quietly.
And the journey continued.