Owen didn't know what it was like to slog through poisoned gunk until that day. It was thicker than water, but not quite as thick as mud. Between his scales and his thighs, it had a jelly-like feel to it in some parts, and a vague resemblance to the slime of Emily's insides in others. Every move he made, he could feel it squishing between his toes. Electing to walk through this swamp was possibly the worst decision Owen had ever made.
Amia was on his shoulders, her thin frame squeezed between the two horns behind his head; Enet was on Gahi's shoulders, legs wrapped carefully around his neck, awkwardly leaning to the side due to Gahi's backwards-facing antennae. Her fluff interfered with them, inhibiting his hearing.
Enet growled irritably. "Too thin. Can't sit."
"Oy, ain't my fault I don't got no shoulders," Gahi said. "That's just how m' body works."
Amia adjusted herself; Owen figured his back wasn't the most comfortable seat, but it would do. "It's a little easier for me. Owen's wings and shoulders are just enough for me to stay on."
"I want Owen!" Enet said. "You're lighter! Gahi's slow!"
"I'm what?" Gahi hissed.
"I—I think what Enet means," Amia said delicately, "is that you have more trouble walking with someone on your shoulders. I think I'm lighter than Enet."
If Gahi had fur, Owen was sure it would have been even puffier than Enet's natural fluff. Trying to ignore his offense, the Flygon glared ahead. "Meh..."
"Your bickering is tiring me out," Jerry mumbled. "You, Charizard. Tilt me so I can look forward. I'm tired of staring at your chin."
"Oh—sorry," Owen said.
They had been walking in silence for so long that Owen had forgotten he was holding the head of Aerodactyl Jerry—the only part of him that remained after the poisoned swamp somehow melted him. Every time he talked, the scarf wrapped around his neck glowed softly, as if it was what was allowing him to make sound in the first place.
"You know, I never realized just how heavy a head can be... But maybe that's just because of how strong your jaws are."
"Is that a compliment?"
"I think so," Owen said. "You guys are known for strong jaws, right?"
"Sure."
Owen nodded.
"This place still gives me the creeps... And I don't get why we ain't melting like this guy was." Gahi looked at the Aerodactyl head. "I ain't that different from him, terms of powers and auras. I mean, sure, I got super speed... and I'm artificial... but that... eh..."
"As far as I can tell, your aura should behave similarly to other normal auras, dear," Amia said. "So, you're right. I'm not sure why Jerry here was the only one who melted. Though, now that I get a better look at you, your aura is a bit different, Gahi. Must be the lack of ancestry, like Star said."
"Maybe they don't care for ancient Pokémon species," Jerry muttered. "Ugh, I feel like I have a cramp in my neck."
"Oh—sorry," Owen said. "Here, let me just..." He carefully loosened the Pecha Scarf, but made sure it remained wrapped around him. "How's that?"
"...Better. Thank you. Mmnh... And you're sure you can return me to normal?"
"I have a few ideas, definitely," Owen said. "Too bad it's still kinda hard to test it out while we're here. Once we're done with meeting the Guardian, we'll see if Mispy can help—that Chikorita, remember? Well, she evolved, too, and her healing powers are her specialty. And if not... maybe Emily?"
"Oh! So that's your plan, is it?" Amia looked down, giving Jerry an encouraging smile from above. "You know, I think that just might do the trick."
"Emily? Who's she?"
"She's a really, really good healer that we know about," Owen said. "If anybody can restore your body, it'd be her, no matter how damaged it is."
"Hmph. I'll believe it when I have wings again. Hey, can she fix my back, too? I threw it out a long time ago. If I twist it funny, I can barely walk after for the whole day."
"She should," Owen said.
"Oh yeah? And how about the clicking I get on my left leg? Ever since I got in a scuffle with someone, that leg has been bugging me if I bend my knee weird."
"Probably."
Jerry squinted, incredulous. "What kind of miracle worker is this Emily?"
"Like I said, she's a healer. If Mispy's work doesn't fix you, Emily's definitely will."
Jerry used his jaw to reposition himself slightly, and then turned his eye toward Owen. "Who are you?" he asked. "All of this. None of this is normal. You saved me by some miracle, and you're saying some other miracle is going to fix all this damage. Why am I not screaming in pain? How am I talking? Is this some Fire Clan ancient art?"
"...Kinda?" Owen said.
"Um—Jerry, about that," Amia said. "I really don't... think that..."
"Save it," Jerry said, closing his eyes. "I was upset. It's... it's not entirely your fault. But I definitely could have become a Heart, if it wasn't for failing that one test..."
"...Test?" Owen asked. "What test? The exams?"
"The preliminaries," said Jerry. "Did you not take them? They were three tests in total, when I applied. The academic exam, the practical exam, and, apparently, a hidden aptitude exam."
"Yeah, I did those... and we went through test missions after that, too... but an aptitude exam? What's that?"
"The one I failed," Jerry said. "I scored the highest in the mock-mission classes and had the highest score among the incoming Heart candidates, and yet, I was rejected. James himself told me that I wouldn't be advancing to the practical exams right before I'd've been given my assignment. That is how I learned that Anam himself can veto any applicant's approval, if he wants. Like he has some sixth sense about whether someone is okay to have or not. The rumor is he can sense the darkness in your heart. What a load of—" Jerry grunted, looking down. "And according to him... I just wasn't Heart material." The Aerodactyl gritted his teeth. "Anam singlehandedly put me in this life. If I ever see him again...!"
Owen thought back to Anam's presence while he was assigned to that cold, thin-air cave in the mountains. He shivered slightly at the memory. The altitude was so bad he had some sort of hallucination of Nevren trying to kill him. It felt so real! He had no intention to go back there. If a place like that could give such vivid dreams, he'd avoid the unnecessary stress. But he also remembered Anam shaking his head at a few of the applicants. Was that the veto? He thought he was just judging their test scores...
Owen also remembered that he had failed the Heart exam countless times before, despite scoring well. It was foggy, but he had been through that song and dance countless times before being accepted. Did Anam sense... darkness in his heart? Perhaps that was his old mutant self. Maybe he sensed that he wasn't ready yet, unlike now.
"I—I'm sure he didn't do it out of malice," Owen said. "Anam's one of the nicest Pokémon I know. Right?"
Amia frowned, rubbing her chin. "He is, but... he is a little eccentric. And childish..."
"And slimy," Enet said.
"Ehh, something about him rubs me the wrong way," Gahi said. "Nobody's that nice fer no reason."
"Well... at least his heart is in the right place," Amia relented checking her hair to make sure no gunk had accidentally fallen into it. "We should really focus more on what we're walking toward. It's starting to feel... more and more ominous. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Owen said. "I think it's the fog."
"Smells awful..." Gahi mumbled. "Glad this Pecha Scarf's keeping me safe, 'cause I think I'm gonna die if I take it off..."
They fell into another tense silence, the fog becoming so thick that they could only see a few feet ahead of them, following vague, mumbling paths through grime-encrusted trees. Amia shivered above him, no doubt her Fairy side on instinctual overdrive at being surrounded by the fog.
And then they heard singing.
"H-ha ha..." Owen inhaled deeply through his scarf, eyes widening coupled with an unnerved smile. "You guys hear that, right?"
O Light, by your eternal power...
"I definitely hear it," Amia confirmed, trying to locate the source. The fog not only obstructed their vision, but also their aura senses. Owen, however, could still get a vague sense of everything around him, at least within a short range.
Strange blobs littered the ooze, moving on their own. The singing came from those.
One thousand arms, guide my path...
"Isn't this the Psalm of Creation?" Amia said.
"The what? Which Book was that from?" Owen asked, having no familiarity with much of the Books' contents. Despite how much he read, he had never been particularly interested in those. In hindsight, perhaps he should have studied up.
More voices joined the song. Ancestor, my form is yours to mold...
"Do they want us to sing along?" Owen said. "I don't really know the lyrics... also, I'm not much of a singer..." He shifted uncomfortably. Why couldn't this Trinity Guardian be like Brandon?
The fog was getting very thick. He was starting to feel it through his scarf. "I—I don't think we should be in this for much longer," the Charizard said, glancing behind him. He couldn't even see his flame in this purple haze, which sent his instincts into a swirl of panic. He closed his eyes, easing his breath. "M-maybe we should just go. The Guardian doesn't want us here."
Gahi and Owen both stopped, but Amia shook her head. "Let me try this. Get your Badge ready in case this doesn't work." She then held her two hands together in prayer, just in front of her chest, and stared at the dull glow in the sky that was most likely the sun.
She sang along with them, following the gentle chorus. When Amia started to sing, even more voices joined them. The chorus started again:
O great Light, immortal power
Thousand arms, undying duty
Ancestor, our flame eternal
We thank you for the gift of life!
Owen wanted to cover his ears at how loud the chorus of voices was becoming, but he was holding Jerry. He glanced down at the Aerodactyl head, but to Owen's surprise, the bodiless Pokémon was grudgingly singing the psalm, too. He glanced at Gahi, who seemed lost, and then at Enet, who was howling out-of-tune with the song.
On the final note, the voices trailed and faded, and with it, the fog lifted. Owen felt like he could breathe again and risked removing his scarf. Nothing happened, so he took a deep, refreshing breath. "Finally."
Now able to get a good look at their surroundings, he saw that they were in a small clearing, though the sludge was still knee-high and looked even deeper in the middle. The trees were a bright, glowing purple, though that was certainly not the normal color of the wood. There were no leaves, and whatever was the source of those voices, they were gone, now.
The ooze ahead bubbled, giving the team pause. "Uhh," Owen said. "I think... something's there?"
From the sludge, a purple mass distinct from the rest rose.
"A-are... are you the Poison Guardian? Like... there's maybe a 99 percent chance that we're in the Poison Guardian's place at this point, so I just want to make sure for that last percent!"
"Nah," Jerry said. "That whole fog and psalm was just a random feral who got enlightened. Seriously, how can you think this isn't one of you Guardian freaks?"
Before Owen could retort, a single eye formed in the center of the top of this mass of sludge, with a pupil that strongly reflected the light in the otherwise dim swamp, making the pupil appear white. Then, two more appeared just below and beside the original eye. This strange, sludge-made creature had an ill-defined shape, but from what Owen could make out, it appeared to be a Gastrodon. "Hello..."
Owen watched sludge fall from the open mouth; his voice was a mixture of a childish song and a gurgle.
After a silence, the Gastrodon went on. "You look... interesting."
"Here's ter you," Gahi said with a wry smile. "You the Poison Guardian, Gastrodon?"
"No... But I am the Poison Guardian's bestie!"
"...Bestie." Amia repeated. "Well, um—my name is Gardevoir Amia, and this is—"
"Oh, I know who you all are!" he said with what may have been an attempt at a smile on his strange mouth. "And my name is Gastrodon Ano! I'm the lead spirit of the Poison Orb, under the rule of Guardian Altaria Ghrelle."
"Altaria..." Owen repeated. "That's a pretty interesting Pokémon to have control over an Orb, huh? But I guess it makes as much sense as my Orb." Which, Owen realized, would be completely useless in an environment like this. Why did Star want him to come to this one, again? Owen shook his head. "Can we speak to her, please? I know she's part of the Trinity, but... I think it'd be okay to just talk, right?"
"Hmm." Ano tilted his head to the left, and then his right. "I dunno. Ghrelle's usually very busy. So many people like to come to this place, you know. And she has to make sure that nobody impure can get through!" Ano blinked. "Hey! How'd you get here?!"
"Sh-shouldn't you have opened with that?!"
Ano giggled, sending small bubbles of poison in the air. They popped into more of that haze, evaporating just as quickly. "I guess I'm a little absentminded... But it felt really funny having others walk through my body!"
"WHAT?" Owen stared at the Gastrodon, but then realized how seamlessly its body blended into the sludge. Owen turned green, not due to his Orb, and said, "O-oh, you're kidding."
"It's okay! Lots of people are here."
"I'm gonna... no offense, but I'll just..." Owen focused—hard—and levitated above the sludge, creating an invisible platform to separate his feet from Ano's body. He grabbed Gahi by the hand and pulled him onto the same platform. He was thankful that the fog's lifting allowed him to actually perform levitation again.
"Thanks," Gahi said. "When we get back, I'm gonna ask Rhys ter wipe this memory."
"Don't even joke about that..." Owen mumbled. "Um—A-Ano, if this is your whole body, wouldn't that make you the Guardian?"
"Oh! Well... I'm just possessing Ghrelle's body. She likes to spend her time in the spirit world." Ano closed his three eyes. "But if you want... I think she'd like to talk to you! Yeah! Okay. Hold on. Mmmmmmmm...!"
The sludge next to Ano bubbled and churned; out from it formed another pile, which, in turn, shaped itself into a melting, delicate figure. Despite being entirely purple, the shape was unmistakably Ghrelle's.
Unnerved, Owen could only say, "U-uh, Altaria... Ghrelle...?"
She stared at Owen, right in the eyes. Even from their distance, Owen felt something electric shoot through his body, from his head to his feet. Owen couldn't place it—why did Ghrelle make him feel so uneasy? He couldn't feel anything from her body language that suggested malice. But he couldn't feel anything that suggested benevolence, either. Wait... He couldn't feel anything from her. Her body language was so perfectly masked that she had nothing for him to work off. Her consistency reminded him a lot of Anam and Emily; no real organs to work with. It was just an Altaria-shaped wad of poison.
"Greetings," the unreadable Guardian said.
"Bad." Enet growled. Her fur puffed out, making her look twice as large. Her eyes narrowed to slits against the Altaria.
Ghrelle looked at Enet with an amused glint in her eyes. "Electric Guardian Zoroark Enet," she said. "Have you spoken at all with your spirits as of late? They are still watching, you know."
Enet blinked, tilting her head.
"While you are simple at heart, you are also not a very good Guardian. You should consider giving your power up to someone worthier."
Enet hissed and snapped her teeth at Ghrelle.
"H-hey, let's not..." Owen paused. "W-wait, about that—Ghrelle! Uh—I think you melted Jerry. Can you turn him back?" He turned the Aerodactyl to face her.
"...Hmm, interesting," said Ghrelle. "That isn't my doing. Ano is the one who takes care of this forest."
"Takes care, huh? That's an interesting way to phrase it," Amia said. "There isn't much of a forest left in this place, is there?"
"Hmm. Yes. I suppose here it is more a field."
"Field of... poison, you mean," Owen said.
"Yes, that is exactly what I mean. This is known as the Swamp of Purity."
"Um." Amia raised her hand. Owen sensed that Amia was trying to choose which battle to take. "Ghrelle, if you know about Enet, and the rest of us, does that mean you've already considered joining our group in Hot Spot Cave? Because it would really help us out if, um... you know."
"I have pondered your request," Ghrelle said. "And I will have to refuse. There is no need for me to go with you while I have the blessings of the Great Creator, Arceus."
"Okay, so, since we're talking about that guy," Owen said, "when you say blessings, do you mean that in a figurative way, or, um, literally, he blessed you with some sort of... protection spell?"
"You don't study on your psalms, do you?" Ghrelle said.
"My what?"
Ghrelle shook her head. "All is blessed by Arceus. That is simply how the world operates. So long as you follow His will, the right way will always be forward."
"Oh, that's, um, that's good," Owen said. "I think that's... a good way to look at things, if it works for you. I think. Um, how old are you, again, Ghrelle?"
"It is rude to ask a lady her age." Despite this, Ghrelle's tone hadn't changed at all.
"Oh, quit being coy..." Owen crossed his arms.
"Well. I have been here for a long while, as Arceus' disciple. I am at least one thousand years old, though, if I must be honest, I have lost count a long time ago. I may be off by a few hundred. In this miasma, in this tropical climate, it can be difficult to track the days, let alone the seasons, as they pass."
"I know a few folks who can relate to that," Owen said. "That must mean you're around the same age as Klent, or maybe a little older. Klent protected the Grass Orb for half a millennium or something. After that, I spent... a few more centuries getting sane again." Owen rubbed his head. "Wow. I think you're the oldest Guardian I know." Then again, he never asked the others how old they were.
"Hey, quit the chit-chat, you gonna turn me whole or not?" Jerry asked. "Getting kinda sick of laying around!"
"The sinner will remain silent," Ghrelle hissed. Her sudden change in demeanor made Owen's scales prickle.
And then he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. For a split-second, Ghrelle had radiated some sort of power that came from her, and then reverberated off of the field of poison around him. Her aura was immense—he thought she had spread herself too thin to have any real impact on any one area, but that proved him wrong.
"What was that...?" Gahi mumbled, scratching his arm. "Felt like I got a bad case of scaleburn fer a sec..."
Amia was catching her breath. Enet's ears shrank behind her head and her fur puffed up even more.
Owen looked down. The Pecha Scarf wrapped around what remained of Jerry's neck was losing its Mystic glow.
"Gh-Ghrelle, hold on!" Owen said quickly. "It's okay! Jerry will be quiet! Right?"
"Y-yeah, whatever," Jerry said, feeling his neck liquefy. He knew his place. It seemed that despite it all, the Aerodactyl would rather lose his pride than his life.
The scarf slowly regained its glow. Owen sighed.
Ghrelle tilted her head, trading glances between Jerry and Owen. "Why do you wish to save him? He is below you."
Owen immediately countered, "No, he's not. Sure, he made some wrong choices, but... he's still a Pokémon. And I don't think I have any right to judge someone after all the mistakes I've made, and the... sure, the sins I've done. Bet you know about that, too, huh?"
"Your sins," Ghrelle repeated. "Yes. I am aware of them. I am also aware that they are not truly your own, when you were designed by one that is perhaps the most blasphemous of them all."
Owen tapped his claws on his arm. "Wouldn't that make me a demon? Or something?"
"Perhaps, in a way, you are one. But you are noble and climbed your way out of such a status. It is for that reason you were allowed to come this deep into my abode intact."
"...What?" Owen said. "Wait—hang on. Is that the difference between Jerry and us? The reason he melted and we didn't?"
"Yes. Jerry has a dark heart. I can sense it. Therefore, Ano's body rejected him, and he is destined to be purified. You four... are much more redeemable, and therefore are worthy of the living."
"B-but... but that's completely arbitrary!" Owen said. "You can't just judge if someone is good or bad! There's no metric for that! So, you just decide if someone's worth melting or not? Is that it?"
"Yes. My judgement is what decides the worthiness of a soul. I have final say in their fate." Ghrelle stared at Owen, empty, purple eyes suddenly cold. "Star was wise to send you four. While nobody can be truly perfect, you are all pure in your intentions, and lack doubt in your goals. Except for you, Owen... but that much is understandable. You are at a crossroads that nobody else will face. Perhaps, if in your scales, even I would have my doubts."
"I don't... know what you mean," Owen said flatly.
"Your power, Owen," Ghrelle said. "And your unique position in this world. You have an Orb, and you also are a synthetic Pokémon. Never intended to possess this divine power, and yet here you are. And most importantly... you have not decided on who you wish to align with. No allegiances, no ancestry, no direction but ahead. Your soul is colorless. You do not know what to do with this power, do you?"
"Of course not!" Owen nearly dropped Jerry to raise his arms, but managed to keep from letting go. "I mean—well, I kinda do. I want to use this power to help others. That's all I've ever wanted to do—to fight, yeah, but also to use that fighting to be good. Fight bad guys."
Jerry grumbled something unintelligible, followed by, "Bad guy, huh?"
"I... I guess in a way, it's what Anam did with his power, don't you think? He's one of the strongest Guardians I know, and he made the entire Thousand Hearts."
Ghrelle's eyes flashed at the mention. "Anam... I cannot fault him for his intentions. But he is a bit shortsighted, in the end. His ambition will ultimately prove fruitless."
"Fruitless?" Owen said. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Ghrelle said. "You are holding an example."
"Holding?" Owen looked down.
Jerry snorted, looking up at Owen as well as he could. "Anam is a naïve Pokémon who happened upon great power. He thinks that the world is happy and everybody can be happy together. But that just isn't how it works, kid. Pokémon are different. Some fight. Some are lazy. Some take advantage of the kindness of others. Some just... don't care. That's just how things are."
"How they are, currently, yes," Ghrelle said. "It is in your nature to be selfish. Ultimately, a sane mind would only do things because you enjoy them, or because you need to do them. Owen, how do you reconcile the fact that not all Pokémon can truly get all that they want, yet will continue to fight for it?"
The Charizard's eye ridges furrowed with uncertainty. "What? I mean... what do you mean?"
"Well. A simple example," Ghrelle said, raising a wing. Poison dripped thickly into the main body below. "There are only a thousand positions in the Hearts at any given time. It is to accommodate for the size of the world, small as it may be, to rescue all the Pokémon that are in trouble. A constant force to maintain order. Yet, many Pokémon desire that position, do they not?"
"Yeah, because who wouldn't want to help others?"
Jerry mumbled, "More like, who wouldn't want to be set for life? The pay's insane."
"The pay?" Owen said. "Oh—yeah, I guess it does pay a lot. We need a lot of money to keep our supplies at their best. And I guess all the extra is to help us feel secure and help out at home."
Ghrelle looked at Jerry. "How is your home life, Aerodactyl?"
Even without a body, what muscles remained in Jerry's head and neck segment tensed enough for Owen to feel them.
"I—I mean, he's an Outlaw," Owen said dismissively. "He didn't want to work the normal way, so of course it wouldn't be that good, right? I—I mean... Jerry, you could've turned your life around!"
"He could have, certainly," Ghrelle said. "With hard work to claw his way from the bottom. Because in the end, his family line was one that could never quite get out of their position."
Jerry cut in, "How do you know all this?"
Ghrelle chuckled. "Well, how else am I to judge a soul?" she asked. "Jerry, your family was put in their position many generations ago by the so-called Fire Clan. Is that what you were told?"
"Yeah. Is that true? D'you somehow know that?"
"The Fire Clan... is a fabrication," said Ghrelle. "But the group in question does exist. Amia, you are the latest in that line, correct? And the longest-lived. An ancient artifact that crosses lineages that constantly rip it away from each other. Bloodied claws grasping for a fragment of Arceus' holy power."
The edge of her mouth, where her beak met the soft, poisoned goo of her head, slid into a smirk, but then she returned to neutral.
"Apparently, the Orb is meant to be passed from parent to child once they're strong enough to defeat the parent. Stronger and stronger Fire Guardians. And then... you." Ghrelle tilted her head, her voice possessing an air of faux-innocence. "How did you acquire your Orb, Amia? Whispers of the spirit realm tell me that it used to follow a Hydreigon lineage. Did an ancestor kill the Hydreigon Guardian... or did you?"
Owen didn't like the tension Amia suddenly felt. Her blue hair pulsed with a dim, fiery glow. "If you can see my past, then you know I didn't kill anybody."
"I can't see the past. I can only sense your darkness. I feel... guilt surrounding this topic."
Silence.
Ghrelle hummed, breaking her stare to continue speaking. "It must weigh heavily on you, whatever it is. Did you plan to pass that guilt to your child? The child you never had. Well." She looked at the Charizard below Amia. "Until Owen came along."
Owen flinched, jerking his head up, nearly knocking the Gardevoir over. "M-Mom? You... you would've had me kill you?!"
"N-no! It's—it's not like that," Amia said immediately. "It's... it's not killing when we've already lived for so long, don't you think? And—and I wasn't going to do it until you were sane, like you are now. Oh, Owen, what am I saying—perhaps I considered it, but after all this time, I wouldn't!"
"You wouldn't have told me... and then you'd've made me be all alone! Is—is that what...?" Owen's heart raced at the retroactive panic of having to kill Amia. What was she thinking?! He's refuse it outright! He never got that impression from her. It must have been a very old thought.
"No, no! It isn't like that at all! If you didn't want it, I would've just... continued to wait."
Jerry tensed his jaw, glancing worriedly at Owen's hands. "Hey, buddy, watch those claws."
"S-sorry," Owen said, loosening his grip. "I guess that makes sense, but you could've told me! I mean, you probably couldn't have told me. That would've opened up a whole new set of questions."
Amia nodded. "I'm sorry, Owen. In all that's been happening, I forgot to tell you. To be honest, I wish I could forget I ever thought about that silly tradition. And since you already have an Orb... I guess I have to start looking again!" She forced a laugh. "But... I think I might be the last of the Fire Clan, as we're called." She looked at Ghrelle. "But what does the Fire Clan's history have to do with Jerry's family?"
Ghrelle nodded, motioning to the Gardevoir again. "Amia's ancestor was a close friend of Anam, long ago. This was before he acquired the Ghost Orb, when Anam was the leader of the Ten Hearts. I do not know the full story of this, as I never interacted with Anam before to see his side, but as the story goes, Jerry's ancestor fought for the Fire Orb all the same. And as part of that, in the savage world at the time, they had to do some... less than desirable things to stay alive.
"One of those things happened to be an attack on Anam's friend, Amia's ancestor. News came, Anam encountered this ancestor... and they were apprehended. Skip ahead to when the Thousand Hearts are still growing... the son of that ancestor wants to join. Anam remembers the parents' actions... and refuses him entry, despite their qualifications."
Owen shook his head. "It can't be that simple. Anam can't hold a grudge! He's... he just doesn't seem like the sort of person to do that."
"I am only explaining Jerry's perspective," Ghrelle said. "He comes from a long line of... rejected Heart candidates. With little other talents, and no mobility to get more education to become skilled otherwise... they are trapped searching for scraps, and living off of this ever-shrinking land."
Owen furrowed his scaly brow, feeling the little plates between his eyes press against one another. "Ever-shrinking?"
"Figuratively speaking. With the Thousand Hearts' influence, the population of civilized Pokémon is booming with the reemergence of lost technologies. Honest jobs once valid, things that any Pokémon could do, no longer bring food to the family so easily."
"If you aren't a Heart," Jerry said, "or you aren't related to one... you have to work, and work, and work, just to live, until you're too weak to work anymore. Then you sit, rot, and die. Alternatively, you have to live like a feral, and hope that the chaotic Dungeon life will give you better luck. Sounds great, huh?" Jerry's toothy grin was painfully wide. "I'll pass."
"Then... then his whole thing is justified!" Gahi said. "No offense ter yeh, Amia, but—he got the raw end o' the deal, y'know? So how come he melted, if it ain't any of his fault?"
Ghrelle chirped a solemn tune. "He is still weak-willed and blames the world for his faults. He could easily improve on his situation if he took the opportunities granted to him by Anam. Despite his claim, endless toil is not the ultimate fate for all non-Hearts. Yet, he said it himself... he shall pass."
Jerry winced, looking like he wanted to say something, yet didn't.
Gahi's fists were clenched tight, though. Owen knew that this wouldn't be enough of an explanation for the Flygon.
"You four, meanwhile, are diligent enough to do the right thing, even if that is not always the easiest path. That is the true, godly path. And it is why you are Hearts. Perhaps it is your synthetic nature, Owen, Gahi. You are loyal and dutiful. Arceus smiles upon such traits."
Gahi squeezed his claws together again, looking at Owen. "I don't buy it."
"I—I mean..." Owen looked down at Jerry, who seemed more focused on the thick bubbles in the poison pit. What was life like for the average Pokémon? Did he ever have an average life? First, he lived in a lab underground, cared for by disciples of Mew. And then, at some point later, he lived in a fabricated village where he and his immortal mother were the only ones truly alive.
None of this was normal. It was never normal. Yet... Anam wouldn't be like that. Kilo was a wonderful place. Jerry was an outlaw, and Ghrelle said so herself that he wasn't Heart material for a reason.
But it still didn't sit right with him, yet most frustratingly, Owen couldn't figure out the answer.
More tension followed, nobody knowing what to say in response. "But... can you turn him back?"
"It seems that synthetics are also very narrow-minded," said Ghrelle in a growl. "Did any of my words register with you?"
"I mean, sure!" Owen unfurled his wings as a substitute for his arms. "But Jerry's still just a head."
"What do you even care about me for?" Jerry muttered. "You heard her, I'm just some 'sinner,' and you're a godly path-walking soul or whatever. You're above me."
"I... I don't think I am."
"Pbbt."
Another little knot twisted in his gut. He shoved it away, looking back at Ghrelle. He could think about it later. Maybe the fog was starting to get to him. "And you're not going to come with us, either, huh?" Owen asked Ghrelle.
"There is no need. I have Arceus' blessing and require nothing more to be safe here. Like Brandon that you've met before, I am satisfied."
"Brandon..." Owen said. "Hey! Were you human, too?"
Her eyes shined with amusement. "Yes. A Pokémon that used to be human... how interesting, don't you think?" The Altaria churred a soft tune that made Owen's spine feel like ice. "Perhaps you should ask about that sort of thing more often."
"Eh?" Enet said.
"Yeah, what she said," Gahi said. "What're yeh gettin' at, ask more?"
Ghrelle closed her tiny eyes. "There is still a lot that you don't know, Charizard. And I believe you know this. The more you ask questions... the clearer the sky and the stars will be. It's not my place to answer. Why not ask Star? She could tell you everything if she wanted to. Perhaps then you will make your choice. And I do hope you make the correct one."
Owen gulped, looking down. "Y-yeah... thanks." He felt Amia above him, but then looked at Gahi and Enet. "I guess we should get going. Uh—if you aren't going to heal Jerry, we're just going to take him with us, okay?"
"I won't stop you," Ghrelle said. "But don't forget about his sins."
"Yeah, sure." He held Jerry with his right arm and dug through his bag with his free hand. He found the Badge and gave a little nod to Ghrelle. "I'll, uh, try to keep in touch?" He wasn't.
He then thrust the badge in the air, and then they were gone.
Ghrelle sat in the silence that returned to the poisoned forest. She churred again. "What a unique position to be in. Torn between all sides, courted by each. All because he refuses to make a Promise."
The bubbles around the swamp swirled with an idle current, perhaps Ano entertaining himself with the flow.
"Arceus, why don't we just tell him everything?" She looked at the sky, but didn't wait for an answer. "A rhetorical question."
Ghrelle raised her wings; a chorus of voices hummed into the fog.
"After all, it is rude to confess for another's sins."
Nothing answered Ghrelle in the physical realm, but the way her beak twitched after a long silence, and the way the poison around her churned, she received her answer. The poisoned Altaria descended into the muck, and silence ruled the swamp once more.