Echoes of the Rift

[Suicune's Fire]

Prologue

It had been hours.

Large oval eyes stared at a spot on the ceiling. A splotch made by something long ago seemed to stretch in the dim light, only to bounce back when the pokémon’s sight refocused again. It wasn’t a particularly enriching task, but it beat focusing on the rampant panic that had embodied her hours earlier. Many, many hours earlier.

The cold cement wall pressed into the mustard-coloured pokémon’s back, arms outstretched above her bulbous head and wrists secured in place by restraints. Chained charcoal feet stood on the dirty stone flooring, and a long tail snaked around her left side. The helioptile breathed steadily, arms numb from their vertical position and head thumping. Her tongue had started to feel dry a while back, and the constant cold was sending occasional shivers down her torso. A combination of frustration, fear and impatience flowed through her as she groaned, her dry throat only allowing her a small croak.

She didn’t know how long she had been a prisoner. She had attempted to keep count of the minutes and hours that passed by, but without a source of natural light or any sort of clock in the holding cell she had been locked in, she had quickly failed. She had remained awake for the duration of her imprisonment, at least; fear had kept her too alert to drift into sleep. She perked up at each shadow that passed by the cell’s singular door, which was large and made of iron, and twitched at every distant sound. Each time she heard something new, she held her breath to focus on the noise and determine its origin. Most times, she was left without answers.

There was not a single window lining the cement walls around her, the main sources of light a set of flickering torches mounted on opposing walls. A strip of light bled through the bottom of the iron door and served only as an indicator for passers-by. So far, she hadn’t seen anyone use the rectangular sliding window in the door, but she imagined it could be used to check on her, or perhaps drop something inside.

Something she was able to deduce was that there was a guard stationed outside her door. From the throat-clearing and occasional murmuring, she guessed the pokémon was a male, but had not gleaned his species as yet. Her only other clue was that the few times he had crossed from one side of the door to the other, his shadow appeared to suggest that he was two-legged and bipedal. The few times she had called out to him, he had not responded.

As she pondered how she could get herself out of her predicament, her mind wound back to her earlier attempts at using electricity. The weak sparks that had bounced off the floor and fizzled into nothing combined with a small injection mark in her arm had left her with a persistent suspicion: her captors had injected her with an elemental dampening agent. It was normally a tablet or liquid administered orally, but could also be injected with a syringe. Though the latter form was not manufactured and distributed in most pokémon circles, she had heard that it was common amongst humans. Given how frequently human goods were pedalled in the northern parts of Monunne, it did not surprise her to find that common thugs had gotten their filthy claws on some. Although she had no confirmation that her captors were common thugs, she could only imagine that some kind of gang had apprehended her, just as they had her sister and mother. It would make sense that the same group would abduct her shortly after her arrival to Felsunk City, where she had begun asking around for her kidnapped family. Evidently, she had asked a little too loudly.

Figuring she had nothing to lose, the helioptile clenched her jaws, mustered her strength, and again forced a spark of electricity to bounce from her head frills. It glided towards the iron door, falling before it arrived and dissipating into nothing but a crackling whisper. She blew through her nostrils in defeat, rolling her large head against the wall as her frills settled back into their folded position. Her limbs ached, her mind continued to race, and she again wondered how much longer she would be confined to this soulless, empty cell.

And wondered if she would ever see her family again.

The sound of footsteps tugged the helioptile from her lamenting thoughts, and she relocated her alert eyes to the iron door. Her mind turned as voices accompanied the steps—just two, and exchanging only a few mumbles until they greeted the guard. The helioptile felt her heart rate quicken as the figures stopped at her cell, their shadows dividing the strip of light, and began to unlatch the giant bolt on the other side. She attempted to steel herself, feeling an implosion of adrenaline spark in her stomach and stretch into her chest. She adopted her best face of ire as the sound of the door’s locks and stoppers echoed through the chamber before it swung open, revealing three figures.

A lumbering spherical pokémon with two long, burly arms and two stumpier legs strode in first, the large fiery eyebrows on his face exaggerating his intimidating look, tinged with a touch of depravity. He seemed to take up much of the room as he stopped on the helioptile’s left, while the second figure, an asparagus-coloured bipedal pokémon with a brimmed headpiece, hoofed feet and clawed hands followed next, stopping beside the darmanitan. The third figure, a muscly and uncaring machoke, closed the door behind them and used only one of its locks to secure it.

The helioptile unconsciously kept her jaws clenched as her heartbeat shook her ribcage. While she attempted to mask her fear with a face of impatience and outrage, she was sure she merely projected panic. She was met with one haughty expression and a bored one, each painted upon the faces of the visitors respectively.

She anticipated a mere moment more of silence before one of her captors would break it, so she focused on the image of her older sister in an effort to channel her.

“It’s about time. I’m getting hungry.”

She nailed it, aside from her warbling voice.

The darmanitan sneered in amusement. “Cute.”

“I’m sure you know why we’re here,” the breloom said, placing her weighty hands behind her back. When a frown touched the helioptile’s brow, the grass type continued, “Your little family is hiding some very important things from us.”

The helioptile swallowed. Her conclusions had been correct. Not only were these the same pokémon who had abducted her family members, but they had done so out of retaliation. The only member of her family who would have invited retaliation was her older sister. Somehow, it did not surprise her that her sister had gotten herself wrapped up in yet another unsavoury affair.

She cursed silently to herself as she grimaced. She inhaled a long breath, and eased it out as she angled her head upwards against the wall again and tried to find a different ceiling splotch. She attempted to appear nonchalant as her mind turned.

“Hey. Are you listening?” grunted the fire type, his eyebrows flaring up a little.

The electric type, not even half the size of either captor, resisted making eye contact as she instead began wiping the floor with the tip of her tail out of anxiousness. Eventually her eyes fell to him.

“I don’t know what you buffoons are talking about.”

The breloom stole a look from the darmanitan before she took a step forward, capturing the helioptile’s attention. “That was very impolite. You wouldn’t want your mother paying for your impoliteness, would you?”

The electric type felt a pang in the pit of her stomach. She realised she had taken the wrong approach.

“Leave her out of this.”

“They always say that!” the darmanitan groaned, throwing an arm up and using one of his large mitts to scratch the side of his belly. “Doesn’t anyone understand the concept of leverage? Do you understand the concept of leverage?”

“I’m your leverage,” answered the prisoner. “You don’t need my mother.”

The red pokémon lumbered closer. “She’s leverage for you; you’re leverage for your sister. Get it?”

The helioptile’s reflexes kicked in as an electric shock leapt from her body, arcing directly to the darmanitan. For a brief moment, her target winced, turning her fear into surprise, until he straightened back up. A hideous grin stretched across his face as he drew in closer, looming over her.

“You know how much dampener it takes to weaken me? Two full doses,” he breathed, making her recoil. “You know how many it took to weaken you? One fifth.”

“You’re as good as sitting prey,” teased the breloom, and launched a hoofed foot into the helioptile’s midsection.

Immediately the wind was knocked from her lungs and she gasped for air, the adrenaline that had begun to surface flaring back up again. This time it took her entire body, screaming at her to get away at the touch of a fighting type. She pressed out jagged breaths as she tried to regain her composure with little success.

“One more and it’s lights out,” the breloom warned.

The helioptile heaved, binding her eyes closed. She considered a multitude of responses, then donned her dignity and tilted her head back up. “Do it, then.”

The darmanitan puffed out a laugh, but the breloom looked merely inconvenienced. She sighed, raising a hand in front of her and stroking the back of it with the other. The darmanitan suggested that he be the dealer of the final blow, but the breloom, eyes fixed on her massive claws, denied his request.

She trained her eyes back on the electric type. “Jameila, is it?”

The surprise that washed across the prisoner’s face gave her the answer she needed.

“You seem like a smart pokémon. We have your sister, and we have your mother, as I know you are aware.” She kept her gaze steady as she tilted her head. “As a possible accomplice to your sister’s chosen path to join the ranks of RARE, we just need to ask you a few questions. And you wouldn’t want to defy the Darkening Dawn, would you?”

The helioptile flinched at the mention of both organisations. Though the two were not in direct opposition with one another, the Darkening Dawn was known as a pokémon extremist group, while RARE was a simple research and medical organisation. The conflict stemmed from the Darkening Dawn’s recent accusations that RARE, although its members were composed of pokémon, had ties with the humans. And if there was one thing pokémon extremists hated, it was humans.

Jameila swallowed again, her dry throat feeling like it was lined with sand. She had no idea if her sister had aligned with RARE, but if she had, it would make sense why the Darkening Dawn had an issue with her—in the past, her sister had been a member of the Darkening Dawn. Jameila could only assume that they now saw her as some sort of liability. Whether or not she was actually guilty of anything, she had attracted the attention of an enormous and dangerous organisation. The thought of local thugs no longer seemed so bad.

The breloom continued, “I don’t want us to have to beat answers out of you because it’s terribly inefficient, and frankly, we’re bound to end up at the same place anyway. Surely you would prefer to have a nice chin-wag than to leave here with bruises and scars.”

The helioptile’s eyes flicked toward the door and then back, asking the question before she spoke. “So you’re going to let me leave?”

“If you cooperate, yes. We won’t have a reason to hold you if you tell us what your sister won’t. Neither your mother if she proves innocent.”

“She is innocent. And so is my sister,” Jameila insisted, though she wasn’t convinced of the last statement herself. “And I have nothing to tell. I haven’t seen Yursa in months, and I don’t know what she’s been up to.”

“If they were innocent, we wouldn’t be here, now, would we?” The breloom drew a steady breath, lowering both arms and waiting a few moments. “Given we know your name, it’s only fair that you know ours. I’m Ajulah, and this is Rak.”

The darmanitan said nothing, but his face betrayed elements of impatience. “There, we’re acquainted. Now give us some answers, degen.”

“No need for derogatory slurs,” Ajulah scolded, passing her companion a light frown.

Jameila let out a small breath, reminded of all the simple-minded, frustratingly ignorant pokémon who she had encountered over the years who kept prejudiced views on first-stage pokémon. To them, first-stages were capable of few things, viewed as weaker and less intelligent, and considered generally inferior. She knew these opinions were baseless, and had manifested only as a by-product of the increased hostility permeating communities in recent decades. Unfortunately, users of the term felt differently.

The breloom turned back to her prisoner. “All I want is to ask you a few questions, Jameila.”

Jameila tensed at her name, as if irrationally offended that her captors were using it. She kept a glare trained on the grass type.

“We believe that Yursa may have discussed some sensitive information with you. If you can cooperate and give us truthful answers, we will let you go.”

The helioptile had no guesses for what ‘sensitive information’ her sister could have shared with her. Rather than addressing that, however, she focused on another angle. “What about my mother?”

“The same applies to her,” the breloom answered. “She is free to go if you divulge what we need to hear, and she stays with you and your sister if we don’t get what we want.”

“I don’t know what you want,” Jameila protested. “Like I said, I haven’t seen Yursa in months, and neither has our mother. Neither of us have any information about her.”

“You little liar,” the darmanitan growled, drawing Jameila’s attention. “You were with both of ‘em a few days ago. We captured them together, for legends’ sake.”

The electric type gave a small frown, realising her mistake. It wasn’t unreasonable that they would know she was with them too. In fact, it now made her think that perhaps they had been aware of her presence in the city from the moment she walked in through the gates. She had been lured into a trap.

“You don’t think the Darkening Dawn has eyes everywhere this far north?” queried Ajulah. She pointed two red claws at her prisoner. “That’s lie number one, helioptile.”

Jameila gritted her teeth. “I meant other than the last few days.”

“Let’s make this simple,” the breloom offered, pacing slowly. “Tell us your recent movements, Jameila. Your conversations, your activities, the pokémon you saw; you know, that kind of thing.”

Jameila failed to see how any of those things were significant, but relented. She was certain that Yursa had not revealed anything of import to her, and cautiously assumed that answering any questions they had would prove such.

“Fine.”

The breloom’s greasy smile returned. “Start from when you went to visit your mother.”