In a world full of floating islands, sky pirates, exiled magicians, and Pokémon, peace is difficult to maintain.
Shaymin, kind Pokémon who'd guided travelers once man learned how to fly, were hunted to extinction for their Gracideas: magical flowers...
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August reread what she wrote, brows knitted in frustration. She'd never liked writing. Putting words on paper to impress others was a waste when she could speak her ideas aloud. Talking faster, too. She straightened from her hunched position and rolled her shoulders and neck. Her joints popped, much to her satisfaction. This piece would do.
"Have you finished?" Lang asked, peeking at her work.
She nodded. "Aye. Take it."
Lang plucked the pieces of parchment from the short table and scanned it. She was the one who assigned the writing exercises to August. The pirate had made the mistake of mentioning that Cyryl was teaching her how to read advanced literature, piquing Lang's interest. She insisted that August needed to practice writing to help develop her language arts skills. August agreed mostly because she had nothing else to do. She missed her apprentice keeping her busy.
Life had slowed to a crawling pace since their return. Because Loto had used his single miracle potion on August's mangled arm, the new injuries needed time to heal naturally. Lang's Ingrain spell could only do so much. Loto spent most of his time out in the city in search of a remedy to accelerate the process, but he came home empty-handed every night.
August always knew when Loto and Dew slipped through the doorway in the middle of the night. Sleep was a friend she'd grown distant from. Nightmares plagued her dreams, replaying the vision Morningstar had cursed her with. She refused to say them aloud in fear they'd come true, clinging to the possibility the Xatu's prophecy was all a lie.
