Using the cover the Swords had gifted them, George, Hein and Terez disappeared into the Tholander countryside. Though their escape wasn't easy, they had their aces to play. Corrupted blocked their path every so often. But with the aid of Terez' illusions, and Hein's talents for making things 'disappear', they were but bumps in the road.

  Tholander hadn't changed much, corruption be damned. Endless fields of grass and remnants of a once thriving society galore, ruins which Hein still associated with their original names, long lost to time. These days, the ferals had colonized what remained. The Dusknoir never managed to look at them for long: He kept shooing George and Terez past whatever ruins they approached, clutching his wounded shoulder fiercely. After a day, George felt a similar discomfort looking at them.

  'Some wounds don't ever heal. Hein hasn't even got the same body any longer, he knows best. Why would the soul be different?'

  Aside from the Corrupted skulking about, the main change kept any depressing thoughts in the distance. The cracks in the sky, once constricted to the area around Luminity, had long spread across Eravate. The blue had been beaten back to the seas, leaving the continent cast under the Renegade's shadow. George gritted his teeth whenever he glanced up. Looking back, 'anomaly' was always a bad term. It implied that the shadowy Pokemon were just an accident. As if the Renegade had knocked a vase over, then laughed it off.

  The joke's not so funny when you're holding the mop. Or in this case, the Azure Flute. George clenched on it hard whenever he stared.

  'He's not getting away with this, I swear. Someone's got to stop him. Anyone. But am I the one supposed to kill him? Can I even do that? Can he even be killed?'

  A soft hand touched him on the shoulder, rubbing the fur before he turned his head. At first, he only brought his gaze back to the surface. One didn't need psychic senses to tell whose hand it was, but they helped. George's face soured.

  "You're drifting off again," the Gardevoir said. "There's no use feeling down about it now, remember. We have to focus on our goals."

  Winds blew past the trio, stirring the grass running over the hills. The skin under George's fur stiffened; he shook his head. "I know," he said, leaving most of what came after to himself. 'Boy, if only it was that easy. Just snap your fingers and smile, you'll instantly feel better.'

  "We'll fix it," Terez continued. "We don't have a choice, do we? Either we fix it, get corrupted ourselves, or we face the gallows. It's that simple."

  George deflated as he blew a breath out of his nose. 'Huh, they have gallows in Eravate, do they?' he pondered. Adding dark to dark might result in light, like two negatives making a positive. Then again, with how shattered the skies had become, that was wishful thinking at its finest.

  At last, the Dewott now turned his head towards Terez. "It's not just me who thinks the skies have gotten worse, is it?"

  The Gardevoir’s hair wavered in the wind, as she held onto her right wrist. "Far from it. A lot has changed since the last time."

  "Are you surprised?" echoed a voice from the front; Hein had rotated his antenna around, his eye gazing Terez down. "That demon was never going to sit still once unleashed. He has been at work. Eravate will not corrupt itself, after all."

  George bit his lip, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't seem like he had a problem doing it before."

  The Dusknoir scoffed at him. "Please. Do you recall seeing purple skies before? Ever?"

  The Dewott shrugged. "At night, sometimes. You know how the galaxy is visible when it's dark, and you're not near a city?"

  Hein spun around, the mouth on his chest seemingly frowning at George, all whilst his actual eye looked puzzled more than anything. "And during the day? Ever walked around with the world tinted slightly purple? Did the galaxy ever look like that?" He pointed at the void.

  "Eh, squint hard enough, maybe," George replied, his voice pitched a little higher than deadpan. His ears flicked back and forth as the Dusknoir and Gardevoir began to laugh.

  "What a smart arse," said Hein before spinning back around. "Next, he'll assert everyone resembled a ghost before birth, won't he?"

  "Well, wait and see, no?" Terez answered. They laughed, nay, guffawed again.

  Jokes to raise the spirits. There's never any harm in those, no matter the outcome. Even om life or death scenarios, from a certain perspective. Either you came out victorious, calm and collected, or at least you'll meet your end in a more acceptable manner. No one should die terrified.

  Always look on the bright side of life. Or death. So the saying went around select corners of Eravate, woe to those who didn't follow. And that's why George couldn't laugh along, healthy as it would've been. All this talk of Corruption didn't sit right. With how often the Renegade had visited his dreams, surely he would've fallen victim to it as well. A little dose of humanity didn't turn how the mind works on its head. Pokemon or not, animals instincts be damned, that can't have been everything. It can't just have been one Pokemon's fault, god or not.

  "Actually, can I ask a question?" George asked.

  "Here it comes," Terez quipped, holding a hand in front of her mouth. "Go ahead."

  "Are we sure Pokemon are really... well, 'corrupted'?"

  Hein turned his antenna around for the second time. "What are you speaking of? You make it sound as if Eravate's people were destined to lose their minds."

  George shook his head. "No, I don't think," he gulped, "I don't think they've lost their minds at all. It's not enslavement we're dealing with. It's people... voluntarily accepting what the voice in their ears is telling them."

  Both Terez and Hein were taken aback by this; the former stopped dead in her tracks, a lock of hair fluttering in the wind as she squeezed one hand in the other, while the latter folded his arms, his wispy end flickering back and forth.

  "And what are you implying with that?" Hein asked, stressing the final word. He sounded hellbent on getting a definitive answer from George, prodding him to see whether he really believed himself. Seeing the ghost's intent for what it was, George breathed in deep, then sighed it back out. The air was cold, refreshing on an ordinary day, but harsh in the middle of a struggle. It's like being reminded you were alive. Apparently, life smells like grass with a hint of chestnut.

  The Dewott folded his ears backwards, his tail dragging across the ground as he walked with his arms folded. "What I mean is, people willingly listen to him. To the Renegade. You know how he's tried luring me in by showing me my parents?" 'Still is.' "He's doing the same to others. To all Pokemon. Promise them something they want, as long as they agree to follow him. I thought you’ve told me this before."

  "We have, yes," Terez said, stepping in front of George and joining Hein's side. "Granted, we are not quite sure ourselves... but please understand. We are not trying to hide anything or lie to you. We're going to have to go through many Corrupted Pokemon to get Eravate back in order. A lot. Do you think it is easier, knowing they're fully aware of what they're doing? You're fighting someone with genuine feelings, here. Hopes, dreams, you name it. And you have to put an end to them."

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  George's brow furrowed. "Depends, doesn't it? If they're in full agreement of-"

  Hein raised a hand. "George. Please. Do yourself a favor, don't waste energy thinking this through."

  "Why not-"

  "You will thank me later. Take that from someone who has spent far too many years pondering about it."

  Both mentors turned their backs on him, continuing their trek across the grassy fields whether George followed or not. His brow furrowed; a lump had gotten stuck in his throat. The longer he dwelled on the concept, the blurrier the answers became, much like the forested ruins in the distance. Thus, he elected to keep his mouth shut, and his eyes fixed to the backs of his mentors as he got a move on, taking Hein's advice for what it was worth.

  Morality and emotions aside, what was certain is that the Corrupted weren’t burdened by them. Having crossed through numerous plains, hills and creeks throughout the day, the coming of dusk brought a whole different kind of obstacle in their path. An army camp with forty tents sat at the base of a hill, the grass reaped to the roots, a large campfire set up in the center with several Corrupted cooking nearby, their vapours having seeped into the soil. Other Corrupted, most of them fully evolved, sharpened their claws with bits of metal in front of their tents, the scraping sounds carried along by the breeze.

  Upon spotting the tents, Hein soared backwards before George caught a glimpse, spreading his arms to block the path. "We've got trouble," he said, the wind howling in the valleys behind.

  Terez leaned leftwards, aiming to squeeze her head past the Dusknoir's shoulder. "How bad is it?"

  "An entire encampment," the Dusknoir replied. "Takes up a whole valley. We're lucky there's no sentries on the hilltops," he stressed in a gravelly voice. "Did you not detect it?"

  The Gardevoir gritted her teeth, smacking a lock of hair away from her face. "I... was not paying attention, in all honesty."

  Hein echoed out a sigh, eye nor mouth budging an inch. "Fantastic. So we could have been surrounded... Let us not dwell on it. Come with me, fast. George, stay back."

  George had been watching from below; unlike Terez, he had gotten the inkling something was amiss, but didn't foresee a whole camp popping up. Nevertheless, him being shut out of drafting a plan bothered him. "What, don't I get a say?" he grumbled, eye twitching.

  "We need someone to watch our backs," the Dusknoir replied, his bulk submerging into the terrain while Terez got onto her hands and knees, grass stains on her dress a non-issue. "Plausible deniability helps as well. They know it's a Dewott they want."

  Said Dewott rolled his eyes. 'Oh, I'm sure a Dusknoir and a Gardevoir wouldn't set off alarms, or anything.' he whined to himself. 'It's not like you've been holding my hands for weeks now, right? And you’re not Corrupted.'

  Alas, silent complaints fell on no ears, leaving George to watch the hills they had come from whilst Terez and Hein scouted. Taking in the surrounding area, it was an awkward place to set up camp. Nothing but grass for fields around, pinned between large hills that made escape difficult, and few resources to scavenge nearby. A patch of forest here and there, stone remnants of what once was, and that was it.

  His attention dawdled off. Whoever set up shop here must not have cared much. A camp is a camp, at the end of the day. The risks were tiny. George glanced at his forearm. Him, Terez and Hein, versus a whole camp? Might as well waddle in to turn himself over.

  "One tent is larger than the rest," Terez remarked. "Right there, at the base of the steep hill. You think that's where the leader is?"

  Hein nodded. "Indeed I do. Unfortunately, it looks to be the cleanest path through."

  "Say that again?" Terez asked indignantly.

  The Dusknoir stretched an arm out over the Gardevoir’s head. "See that gap in the hills? Behind the tent? That is our best shot. We'll have to skirt along the edge, but the only alternative is going straight through, or across the plains to our right. In plain sight of the camp. No cover"

  Terez took her time, stretching her neck to view the path Hein had sketched. During the silence, George got onto his toes to try and accomplish the same, but to no avail. A gust swept over the hills a second after trying, and his plans were nipped in the bud. He frowned. His punishment for keeping his eyes off his job, he supposed.

  “Fantastic,” the Gardevoir grumbled after about twelve seconds. “The space between the tents and the hills are narrow. If there’s anything behind those tents, we’re in trouble. If someone’s going around the back to ‘have a leak’, if you will, then we’re in deep trouble. I’m guessing you want me to set up illusions?”

  Hein nodded. “Indeed I do. You need not remind me how straining they are, you have made that clear enough in the past. But my idea is simple. I grab a hold of both of you, you shield us in a bubble, keeping us hidden as we traverse from one end to the other. What do you think?”

  A bug crawled up George’s throat as he listened in on his plan, and no amount of water or swatting would get it off. “Grab us? Do you mean wrapping us in your arms?” he asked, one tooth biting down on his lip.

  The Dusknoir shrugged. “I’m afraid our choices are limited, here. Going back is not an option, as we may have unwanted attention not far behind… nor would I want to subject you to being pulled underground. It is most unpleasant for the living. Furthermore, we know little of our enemy’s strength. Had I been on my own, I would have risked it. But I am not risking either of you. Me holding onto you is our only option, alas. But I assure you, the temporary awkwardness will be worth it.”

  Without so much as a warning, Terez grabbed the Dusknoir by the right shoulder, then dragged him backwards; the movement mostly came from his end, however. “Stop right there. How do you intend to carry us with an injured shoulder?”

  “Tsk.” The ghost scoffed at her, his pupil floating to the top of his socket. “Calling it a flesh wound would be an exaggeration, if you understand my meaning.”

  George didn’t like the sound of that. Death may not mean much to Hein, but all rules and trends had exceptions. “Excuse me? You’ve been clutching the wound for hours now. You’re clearly hurting, how can you say otherwise?”

  Hein looked him in the eyes for a few seconds before answering. “Hmpf. All great things require sacrifices, George. I may be hurt, but carrying both of you shouldn’t be an issue.”

  The Gardevoir tapped his shoulder again. “This is no time for games.”

  “And this is not a game,” the ghost answered. “I have suffered through worse for years. This should only take a few minutes.”

  Terez rolled her eyes. “So be it then,” she said, before getting onto her knees. “George, I’ve been through this before. Ghost ectoplasm isn’t… particularly pleasant. It’s hard to describe, but you’ll feel it yourself. Rest be assured that you’ll be fine. Feel free to squeeze his fingers after we’re done.”

  Hein cracked up. “She enjoys messing with me, what can I say?”

  George’s eyes narrowed. “Fine…” he deadpanned. “Just… make this quick, okay?”

  “As you wish,” the Dusknoir answered, wasting no time scooping both of them up. George had barely risen to his feet before they were lifted off the ground, straight into the coldest embrace that didn’t involve dying. Before long, the ectoplasm from Hein’s arm and chest seeped into George’s fur, filling the pockets of air in between. The sensation resembled getting pulled under water, if water had the consistency of jelly.

  The undead weren’t a pleasant touch for the living, to put it mildly. As Hein floated down the hill, with George in one arm and Terez in the other, George skin was being pulled at. Like standing at the edge of the void, with a force from beyond attempting to pull him in. It resembled little more than odd tugs, at the moment, but all of George’s concerns were being validated.

  ‘What in the world is happening? Am I being pulled in, or is this some messed up allergic reaction?’

  His psychic senses tingled as the world around him blurred. Suddenly, Hein’s arm disappeared, as did George’s arms resting on top; a glance behind revealed the ghost’s bulk having vanished as well. Moments later, the first tent crept into view, and was bypassed without a sound. George watched from the haze; a black shape resembling a small feline Pokemon walked in between tents, with all the urgency of a grocery store trip. No reaction to the trio floating on by, thus far.

  Tents two and three went on by with no difference. Two taller Pokemon with feminine voices happened to be standing in between, chatting about a berry lunch. Once again, shadows and blurs aroused no suspicion among them. George tightened his grip, then drew a breath.

  ‘Well, no one’s ever said Hein’s got no clue what he’s doing. Guess I’ll be doing this again someday...’

  As Hein crept his way past the largest tent in the camp, halfway to the small gap in the hills, a different set of voices came into earshot. Shadows were cast on the walls of the tent from the inside, revealing a large presence within.

  “My lady, this is much harder than it looks. None of the bodies on the field belong to our targets. We’ve been looking all over the surrounding area.”

  “And you’re telling me you haven’t found a trace of him?”

  “There’s been a few sightings. But we keep losing the trail.”

  “Of course you do! Did you think finding that boy would be easy? I’ve mentored him myself! I know what he is capable of… should it then come as a surprise that the enemy’s got their finest with them?”

  The conversation within sounded combative, somewhere between a teacher’s lecture and a parent catching their child’s hand in the cookie jar. George tucked his ears back; a tug around his chest kept him tightly wrapped in ectoplasm. ‘I’ve heard that voice before…’

  “So, you want us to keep going? Even if the odds are against us?”

  “Yes, of course! All our plans depend on us having that lad under control! The Renegade doesn’t just ask things for laughs, does he now?”

  “No.”

  “There you have it! You’d better do your best, because we can’t afford to make any excuses for ourselves. Don’t misunderstand, I would love nothing more than to help, but I’m still recovering from my injuries, as you can see. If I cannot handle a Metagross, then the Lone Eye would tear my soul out, sad to say.”

  George blinked. ‘Allora?’ he thought, his mind shifting back a few months ago. ‘Weren’t you…?’

  As ceremonious as they arrived, Hein drifted through the gap in the hills, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around George and Terez over another hill before setting them down. Neither he nor the Gardevoir spoke much about what they had heard, preferring to either walk or float off to greener pastures in the east. And George didn’t object, or ask questions; he just shook his head. At this point in time, you only had yourself to blame if a knife in the back came as a surprise. Everyone in the Alliance had been sharpening theirs.

  It was just another disappointment at the end of the day.

  “Hey, Hein?”

  The Dusknoir’s eye fell upon the Dewott. “Yes, George?”

  “Have you ever heard of the saying ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer’?” George asked, his attention fixed on his feet shuffling through the grass.

  Hein nodded, even though no one was watching. “Why yes. It’s terrible advice, in case you were wondering. Were you?”

  George sighed. “Not anymore, I’m not.”