Chapter 45: Patricia vs Julie
The morning light crept through the slatted blinds of the inn room, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets. Briv woke slowly, his body still heavy with the previous day's exhaustion. The battle against Ennui had taken more out of him than he'd realized—not just physically, but mentally. The revelation about Ennui's brother sat in his chest like a stone.
Patricia was already awake. He could hear her moving around in the kitchen, the clink of cups and the hiss of the kettle. He smiled despite himself. She was always the first one up, always the one who made sure everyone ate breakfast and didn't wallow in their own thoughts for too long.
He dragged himself out of bed.
By the time he made it to the kitchen, Patricia had assembled a spread that could have fed a small army—eggs, toast, fruit, cheese, and something that smelled suspiciously like fresh-baked bread. Nicola was already there, her hair still damp from the shower, nursing a cup of coffee. Dariana sat cross-legged on a chair, her Gallade standing behind her like a silent sentinel. Samuel was at the table, his dreadlocks tied back, his sketchbook open in front of him.
"There he is," Nicola said. "The man who almost lost to a goth with a Misdreavus."
Briv poured himself some coffee. "I won, didn't I?"
"You won because Chimchar's insane. Anyone else would've been toast."
"I'll take it."
He sat down and started eating. The eggs were perfect—fluffy, seasoned just right. Patricia slid into the seat beside him, her hand finding his under the table.
"Sleep okay?" she asked.
"Eventually."
"Maybe today's the day we don't have a near-death experience."
Briv snorted. "In Aethelburg? Unlikely."
---
The market district sprawled across the eastern bank of the Grand Canal, a sprawling labyrinth of narrow streets and open-air stalls that buzzed with life. Vendors hawked their wares in a dozen different languages—fresh produce, handmade crafts, rare Pokémon items, and everything in between. The air smelled of spices and salt water and the faint electric tang of the city's crystalline infrastructure.
They'd come to restock supplies. The League was in two days, and Patricia insisted they needed more potions, more antidotes, more of everything Briv had already packed three times.
"You can never have enough," she said as they wove through the crowd.
"You've said that."
"Because it's true."
They passed a stall selling hand-carved Poké Balls—beautiful things, polished wood and inlaid gemstones. Briv paused to admire them, and Patricia tugged his arm.
"Focus."
"I'm focused."
"You're looking at balls."
"I'm looking at art."
Nicola appeared at his other elbow, her Shieldon waddling behind her. "If you two are done flirting, we've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"The kind that's walking toward us."
Briv turned.
Julie Yamamoto was threading through the crowd with the practiced ease of someone who'd grown up in a city like this. She looked the same as she had last year—athletic build, dark ponytail swinging, warm brown eyes scanning the crowd. But there was something different in her posture now. Something harder. Something that hadn't been there before.
She spotted them and stopped.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Julie smiled—a real smile, not the forced kind—and said, "Briv Ambertone. As I live and breathe."
"Julie." He stepped forward and hugged her. She hugged him back, tight, and when she pulled away her eyes were bright.
"It's been a year," she said. "A whole year. What the hell happened to you?"
"Long story."
"I've got time."
The others crowded around—Patricia, Nicola, Dariana, Samuel. There were more hugs, more exclamations, more of the chaotic reunion energy that always accompanied reunions of people who'd thought they might never see each other again.
"I heard the news," Julie said. "All of it. The Eclipse Squad. The Northern Alliance. The shit with Jack. I've been keeping tabs."
"You've been keeping tabs?" Nicola raised an eyebrow. "From where?"
"I moved around. Didn't stay in one place too long. Easier to stay off the radar that way." Julie shrugged. "But I always come back to Aethelburg for the League. Old habits."
"You competing?" Briv asked.
"Nah. Just watching." She glanced at Patricia. "Unless someone wants a friendly match."
Patricia's eyes lit up. "Are you offering?"
"Depends. You up for it?"
"Always."
---
They found an open training arena near the southern edge of the market district—a smaller one, less fancy than the League facilities, but solid stone and well-maintained. A few locals gathered to watch as the two women took their positions at opposite ends of the field.
The rules were simple: three-on-three, single elimination, no items. Just Pokémon and skill.
Patricia released Cranidos first. The rock-type burst from its ball with a roar, its thick skull gleaming in the afternoon light. It pawed the ground, eager, ready.
Julie countered with Vileplume.
The grass-type was massive—a walking flower with a crimson crown and a body the size of a small child. It shifted its weight from foot to foot, its petals rustling, its eyes half-closed and dreamy.
"Begin," Briv said.
Cranidos charged without waiting for a command.
"Headbutt," Patricia called, but the rock-type was already moving, its skull lowered, its legs pumping. It crossed the distance in three strides and slammed into Vileplume with enough force to send the grass-type skidding backward.
Vileplume didn't fall. It didn't even look bothered. It just shook itself and released a cloud of purple spores.
"Sleep Powder," Julie said, her voice calm.
"Get back!" Patricia shouted.
But Cranidos was too close, too committed. The spores settled over it, and the rock-type's eyes drooped. It stumbled, yawned, and collapsed.
"Shit," Patricia muttered.
Julie smiled. "Vileplume, Petal Dance."
The grass-type spun, and a storm of petals erupted from its body—sharp, slicing petals that tore through the air like shrapnel. They struck Cranidos where it lay, and the rock-type cried out in its sleep, unable to defend itself.
"Return," Patricia said, recalling it.
She'd lost one. She couldn't afford to lose another.
"Magby," she said. "Go."
The fire-type appeared in a burst of flame, its body glowing with heat. It looked at Vileplume, then at Patricia, its expression asking for permission.
"Burn it," Patricia said.
Magby didn't need to be told twice.
It launched itself forward, flames trailing from its body, and slammed into Vileplume before the grass-type could react. The impact sent both Pokémon tumbling, but Magby recovered first, rolling to its feet and spinning to face its opponent.
"Fire Spin!" Patricia shouted.
A vortex of flame erupted around Vileplume, trapping the grass-type in a cage of fire. The petals withered, the spores burned away, and Vileplume shrieked—a high, keening sound.
"Solar Beam," Julie said.
But Vileplume was too slow. The fire had done its work. The grass-type collapsed, and Julie recalled it with a nod.
"Not bad," Julie said. "Nidorina, you're up."
The poison-type materialized in a crouch, its ears flat, its eyes sharp. It was smaller than Vileplume, faster, more agile. It circled Magby, looking for an opening.
"Poison Sting," Julie said.
Nidorina lunged, its horn glowing with venomous energy. Magby dodged—barely—and countered with another burst of flame.
"Double Kick," Patricia said.
Magby spun and kicked, its legs connecting with Nidorina's side. The poison-type grunted and skidded, but didn't fall. It turned and snapped at Magby with its fangs, catching the fire-type's arm.
Magby yelped.
"Shake it off!" Patricia shouted. "Fire Punch!"
Magby's fist ignited. It swung, catching Nidorina square in the jaw, and the poison-type went flying.
But Nidorina wasn't done. It landed on its feet, shook itself, and charged again.
"Toxic," Julie said.
A glob of purple venom shot from Nidorina's mouth. Magby tried to dodge, but the venom caught its leg, and the fire-type staggered as the poison entered its system.
"Magby, no!"
The fire-type was weakening. Its movements were slower, its flames dimmer. But it wasn't done yet.
"Overheat," Patricia said.
Magby's body erupted. Flames poured from every inch of it, a desperate, all-consuming blast that filled the arena with heat. Nidorina screamed and collapsed, its fur singed, its body smoking.
Magby stood for a moment, panting, victorious.
Then the poison took hold, and it fell.
Patricia recalled it, her hands trembling. "You did good," she whispered. "You did so good."
She had one Pokémon left. So did Julie.
"Gligar," Patricia said.
The ground-type materialized midair, wings spread, yellow eyes gleaming. It circled once, twice, then settled onto Patricia's shoulder, its tail curling around her arm.
"Zubat," Julie said.
The bat Pokémon appeared in a flutter of leathery wings, its eyeless face turning toward Gligar with unerring accuracy. It screeched—a sound that made Patricia's teeth ache—and launched itself forward.
"Air Cutter," Julie said.
Zubat's wings beat, and blades of wind sliced through the air. Gligar dropped from Patricia's shoulder, dodging, and countered with a Poison Sting that caught Zubat's wing.
The bat staggered but didn't fall.
"Supersonic," Julie said.
A wave of disorienting sound washed over Gligar. The ground-type's eyes glazed, and it began to drift, its movements erratic.
"Gligar, focus!" Patricia shouted. "Use Sand Attack—blind it!"
Gligar obeyed, kicking up a cloud of sand that engulfed Zubat. The bat screeched in confusion, its echolocation disrupted, and Gligar took advantage—diving in with a Night Slash that caught Zubat across the body.
Zubat fell.
Julie recalled it, a small smile on her face. "You've gotten better," she said.
"So have you."
They met in the middle of the arena and shook hands. The small crowd that had gathered applauded politely, and Briv felt a swell of pride in his chest.
"That was incredible," he said, joining them.
Patricia was still breathing hard, but she was smiling. "It was close. Really close."
"Close is what makes it fun," Julie said.
---
They spent the rest of the afternoon together, wandering through the market, catching up on old times. Julie told them about her travels—the remote villages she'd visited, the Pokémon she'd caught, the battles she'd won and lost. She'd grown stronger in the past year, that much was clear. Her team had expanded, her strategies had sharpened.
"So," Julie said, as they settled into a café overlooking the canal, "what's the plan? After the League, I mean."
Briv stared into his coffee cup. "We take down Jack."
"That simple?"
"Nothing's simple. But that's the goal."
Julie nodded slowly. "I want in."
Nicola raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." Julie leaned back in her chair, her dark eyes serious. "I've been on my own for too long. I've seen what the Eclipse Squad does to people. To families. I want to help."
Briv looked at Patricia, then at Nicola, then at the others. No one objected.
"Alright," he said. "Welcome to the team."
Julie grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."
---
That night, back at the inn, Patricia found Briv on the balcony. The canals glittered below, their surface reflecting the city's thousands of lights. The air was cold, crisp, and Briv had wrapped himself in a heavy blanket against the chill.
"Can't sleep again?" Patricia asked, sliding into his arms.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Everything. The League. Jack. Julie showing up out of nowhere." He paused. "Ennui. His brother."
Patricia was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "It's a lot."
"It is."
"You don't have to carry it all alone, you know."
He looked at her—really looked at her—and felt something loosen in his chest. "I know."
She kissed him, soft and slow. And for a little while, at least, the weight felt a little lighter.
=====
The kiss deepened, and Patricia's hands found the hem of his shirt.
"You're cold," she murmured against his lips.
"I'm fine."
"You're shivering."
He was, but not from the temperature. The night air was crisp, yes, but the warmth spreading through his chest had nothing to do with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It had everything to do with her—the way she pressed against him, the way her fingers traced the muscles of his back, the way her breath hitched when he pulled her closer.
"Inside," she said. "Now."
He didn't argue.
---
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the canals filtering through the curtains. Patricia pushed him onto the bed and climbed over him, her blond hair falling around her face like a curtain. Her blue eyes were sharp, focused, and Briv felt his pulse quicken.
"You want this?" she asked.
"Fuck, yes."
She kissed him hard, her tongue sliding against his, her hips grinding down against his growing erection. He groaned into her mouth, his hands finding her waist, her hips, her ass—that perfect, round ass that drove him insane every time he saw her in those tight training shorts.
She pulled back just long enough to yank her shirt over her head.
Her breasts bounced free, full and round, her nipples already hard in the cool air. Briv reached for them, but she caught his wrists and pinned them above his head.
"Not yet," she said. "You've been brooding all day. I'm going to fuck it out of you."
"Promises, promises."
She smirked and released his wrists. Then she slid down his body, her lips trailing kisses across his chest, his stomach, the waistband of his pants. She unbuttoned them slowly, deliberately, and pulled them down along with his boxers.
His cock sprang free, hard and thick, already leaking precum. Patricia licked her lips.
"You're so fucking hard," she said.
"Wonder why."
She didn't respond. She just took him in her mouth.
Briv's head slammed back against the pillow. Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, her lips sliding down his shaft, her hand wrapping around the base. She bobbed her head slowly, deliberately, taking him deeper with each pass.
"Fuck," he breathed.
She hummed around him, the vibration sending sparks up his spine. Her free hand cupped his balls, massaging them gently, and he had to grip the sheets to keep from thrusting into her throat.
"You're going to make me come," he warned.
She pulled off with a wet pop. "Not yet."
She climbed off the bed and stripped off her shorts and underwear in one fluid motion. Her pussy was already wet, glistening in the dim light. She straddled him, hovering just above his cock, and grinned.
"Ready?"
"Patricia, if you don't fuck me right now—"
She sank down onto him.
Briv's vision went white. She was hot and tight and wet, and she took him all the way to the base with a single, smooth motion. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just breathed, connected, her walls clenching around him.
Then she started to ride.
Slow at first, her hips rolling in a rhythm that made his toes curl. Then faster, harder, her tits bouncing with every thrust, her hands braced on his chest. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, wet and obscene.
"Yes," she gasped. "Fuck, yes."
He grabbed her hips and thrust up to meet her, driving deeper, hitting that spot that made her moan. She threw her head back, her hair cascading down her shoulders, her mouth open in ecstasy.
"Harder," she demanded. "Fuck me harder."
He flipped her onto her back without warning.
She yelped, then laughed, then moaned as he drove into her from above. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and pounded into her, each thrust deeper than the last. Her tits bounced wildly, and she clawed at his back, her nails leaving red trails.
"Briv—oh, fuck—Briv, I'm close—"
"Come for me," he growled. "Come on my cock."
She did.
Her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around him like a fist. She screamed his name, her back arching off the bed, and Briv kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release.
He came with a guttural groan, emptying himself inside her, his hips jerking with each pulse. When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, both of them panting, sweaty, spent.
"Holy shit," Patricia whispered.
"Yeah."
After a minute, he rolled off her and she curled into his side, her head on his chest. The room was quiet, save for the distant sound of the canals and the occasional cry of a night bird.
"You know," she said, "that wasn't just about the sex."
"I know."
"Good."
---
The next morning, Briv woke with a sore back and a smile on his face.
Patricia was already up—of course she was—but this time she'd stayed in bed, her head propped on her hand, watching him. Her hair was messy, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and she looked so beautiful it made his chest ache.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
"Feeling better?"
"Much."
She grinned and leaned over to kiss him. "Told you it'd help."
---
They found Nicola and Dariana in the common room, both of them already dressed and nursing cups of coffee. There was no sign of Samuel—probably still asleep, or out sketching somewhere.
"About time," Nicola said. "We were starting to think you two had died."
"Just busy," Briv said.
"I'll bet."
Dariana hid a smile behind her cup. "We were thinking about heading to the market again. There's a festival today—crafts, food, games. Might be fun."
Patricia perked up. "A festival?"
"It's the annual Aethelburg Spring Festival. Happens every year before the League. All the trainers in town gather to celebrate."
"I'm in," Briv said.
"You're always in when food's involved."
"That's not true. I'm also in when there's fighting."
---
The festival had transformed the market district into something out of a dream.
Streamers of silver and gold hung between the buildings, twisting in the breeze like ribbons. Floating lanterns drifted overhead, their warm light competing with the afternoon sun. Street performers crowded every corner—jugglers, musicians, fire-breathers, and trainers showing off tricks with their Pokémon.
The smell of grilled meat and fried dough and something sweet and spicy filled the air. Briv's stomach growled.
"Food first," he said.
"You always say that," Patricia said.
"Because it's always true."
They worked their way through the crowd, sampling everything that caught Briv's eye. Skewers of grilled Pidgey meat. Dumplings stuffed with mushrooms and herbs. A drink that was part fruit juice, part something fizzy, and entirely delicious.
Nicola found a stall selling rare Pokémon items. Dariana found a vendor selling hand-dyed silks. Patricia found a game where you threw rings onto bottles to win prizes, and she won three in a row before the vendor politely asked her to move on.
Briv was eyeing a stand selling fried dough when someone slammed into him from behind.
"Watch it!" he snapped, spinning around.
The woman who'd collided with him looked equally startled. She was taller than him—a good few inches—with sun-kissed skin and long golden-blonde hair styled under a bright headband. Her blue eyes were wide, almost comically so, and she was wearing a crop top and a flowing skirt that seemed to shimmer with every movement.
"I'm so sorry!" she said. "I wasn't looking where I was—oh my gods, Briv?"
He stared at her. Something about her face was familiar. The headband. The hair. The way she talked too fast and smiled too wide.
"Lindsay?"
She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over again.
"Oh my gods, it's really you! Patricia! Nicola! Everyone!" She bounced on her heels, her excitement practically radiating off her. "I can't believe you're here! I mean, I knew you'd be here—everyone's here—but I didn't think I'd actually find you in this crowd!"
"Lindsay," Patricia said, moving in for a hug. "It's been so long."
"It's been forever! I was in the northern regions with Team Beavers, and then I came back for the League, and I've been looking for you guys everywhere!" She looked around the group, her smile faltering slightly. "Where's everyone else? There were more of you last year."
Briv shrugged. "It's been a long year."
"I heard." Lindsay's expression turned serious—or as serious as she could manage. "The Eclipse Squad. That whole mess with Jack. I've been keeping up with the news as best I can. It's terrible."
"It is," Nicola agreed.
"You look good, though," Lindsay said. "All of you. Stronger."
Briv studied her. The Lindsay he remembered had been sweet but scatterbrained, perpetually lost in her own world of fashion and fun. The woman standing in front of him was still bubbly, still bright-eyed, but there was a new edge to her. A new hardness beneath the surface.
"You too," he said. "You look like you've been training."
"I have!" Lindsay beamed. "I caught so many new Pokémon in the north. I've been working really hard. I want to compete in the League next year."
"You're not competing this year?"
"Nope. Just watching." She glanced at Nicola, a competitive glint in her eye. "Unless someone wants a friendly match."
Nicola raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering?"
"Maybe."
"Then let's do it."
---
They found an arena near the festival grounds—a small, open-air ring surrounded by wooden benches. A few spectators wandered over as Briv announced the match, drawn by the promise of entertainment.
Lindsay took her position at one end of the field, her golden hair catching the light. She looked different in the ring—more focused, more deliberate. The bubbliness faded into something sharper.
Nicola stood opposite her, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"Rules?" Lindsay asked.
"Three-on-three. Single elimination. No items."
"Deal."
Lindsay released her first Pokémon.
Bulbasaur materialized with a quiet cry, its green body gleaming, its bulb pulsing with latent energy. It was smaller than most Bulbasaurs Nicola had seen, but it moved with purpose—head up, eyes sharp, stance wide.
Nicola answered with Snover.
The ice-grass type appeared in a shimmer of frost, its white body glowing in the afternoon sun. It looked at Bulbasaur with calm, patient eyes, its breath creating small clouds of mist.
"Begin," Briv said.
Bulbasaur attacked first. It didn't charge—it didn't need to. It simply opened its bulb and released a cloud of purple spores that drifted toward Snover on the breeze.
"Powder Snow," Nicola said.
Snover exhaled, and a blast of frozen air swept across the field. The spores froze and shattered, falling to the ground like broken glass. Bulbasaur recoiled, its face scrunched with displeasure.
"Leech Seed," Lindsay said.
Bulbasaur launched a single seed from its bulb. It arced through the air, aimed at Snover's chest, but the ice-type was already moving—sliding across the ground on a layer of frost, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.
"Razor Leaf," Nicola said.
Snover's arms swung, and a storm of razor-sharp leaves shot toward Bulbasaur. The grass-type tried to dodge, but the leaves were too fast, too numerous. They sliced across its body, leaving shallow cuts that beaded with green ichor.
Bulbasaur staggered.
"Use Growth," Lindsay said.
Bulbasaur's body swelled, its muscles thickening, its bulb pulsing with energy. The cuts closed. The exhaustion faded. When it opened its eyes, they were sharper, more determined.
"Now, Vine Whip."
Two vines shot from Bulbasaur's bulb, lashing through the air like whips. Snover tried to dodge, but the vines were faster—they wrapped around the ice-type's legs and yanked it off its feet.
Snover hit the ground hard.
"Ice Shard!" Nicola shouted.
Snover opened its mouth, and a shard of ice shot out like a bullet. It struck Bulbasaur in the face, and the grass-type yelped, its vines retracting. Snover scrambled to its feet and launched another shard, then another, and another.
Bulbasaur dodged the first two, but the third caught it in the side. It stumbled, its legs wobbling, and Lindsay's expression tightened.
"Solar Beam," she said.
Bulbasaur's bulb glowed, gathering sunlight. It would take time—time Snover didn't have. But Nicola saw the danger.
"Moonblast," she said.
Snover's body shimmered with pale light. A sphere of energy formed in front of it, crackling with cold power, and then it launched forward.
It struck Bulbasaur just as the grass-type released its Solar Beam.
The attacks collided in midair—light against light, heat against cold. The explosion shook the arena. Smoke billowed in every direction, and when it cleared, both Pokémon were down.
"Double knockout," Briv said.
Lindsay recalled Bulbasaur with a frown. Nicola recalled Snover with a nod.
"Not bad," Nicola said.
"You too," Lindsay said, her smile returning. "Oddis, let's go!"
The second grass-type materialized in a burst of leaves. Oddish was small, round, with leaves sprouting from its head and a face that looked perpetually confused. But its eyes were bright, and its posture was ready.
"Starly," Nicola said.
The flying-type burst from its ball with a cry, its wings spread wide. It circled once, twice, then perched on Nicola's shoulder, its dark eyes fixed on Oddish.
"Begin," Briv said.
Starly attacked without waiting for a command. It launched itself forward, wings slicing through the air, and struck Oddish with a Quick Attack before the grass-type could react.
Oddish tumbled backward but recovered quickly, its leaves rustling.
"Acid," Lindsay said.
Oddish spat a glob of purple liquid. Starly dodged, but the acid caught its wing, sizzling against the feathers. The flying-type screeched and spiraled, struggling to maintain altitude.
"Wing Attack!" Nicola shouted.
Starly fought through the pain. It angled its wings and dove, striking Oddish with a vicious blow. The grass-type flew across the arena, hit the wall, and slumped to the ground.
"Oddish, get up!" Lindsay cried.
Oddish stirred. Its leaves rustled, and it pushed itself to its feet, swaying. It was hurt—badly—but it wasn't done.
"Sleep Powder," Lindsay said.
A cloud of spores erupted from Oddish's leaves. Starly tried to dodge, but it was too close, too slow. The spores settled over it, and the flying-type's eyes drooped.
It fell.
Nicola recalled it with a curse. "Tangela," she said. "You're up."
The vine Pokémon materialized in a tangle of blue tendrils. It looked at Oddish, then at Nicola, and seemed to understand the situation immediately.
"Ancient Power," Nicola said.
Tangela's vines glowed with ancient energy. Rocks and debris lifted from the arena floor, swirling around the grass-type like a tornado, and then shot toward Oddish.
Lindsay's eyes widened. "Dodge!"
But Oddish couldn't dodge. It was too slow, too tired. The rocks struck it in a cascade of impacts, and the grass-type collapsed.
"Oddish is unable to continue," Briv said. "Lindsay has one Pokémon remaining."
Lindsay recalled Oddish, her expression determined. "Roselia," she said. "It's all up to you."
The final Pokémon appeared in a swirl of petals. Roselia was elegant—thin, graceful, with red and blue flowers blooming from its hands. It looked at Tangela with calm, appraising eyes.
"Begin," Briv said.
Roselia moved first. It raised its arms, and a storm of petals erupted—Magical Leaf, each one tracking Tangela with unerring accuracy.
Tangela tried to dodge, but the leaves followed. They sliced across its vines, leaving deep cuts, and the grass-type cried out.
"Power Whip!" Nicola shouted.
Tangela's vines lashed out, striking Roselia across the chest. The grass-type staggered, but didn't fall. It countered with another Magical Leaf, and another, and another—relentless, unforgiving.
Tangela was losing.
"Tangela, use Growth!" Nicola said.
Tangela's body swelled, its vines thickening, its strength increasing. The next Magical Leaf struck, but it did less damage. The one after that did even less.
"Now, Giga Drain!"
Tangela's vines wrapped around Roselia, and green energy flowed from the grass-type into Tangela. Roselia shrieked, its flowers wilting, its body weakening. Tangela grew stronger.
"Roselia, Poison Jab!" Lindsay shouted.
Roselia's arm glowed with purple venom. It stabbed at Tangela's vines, forcing the grass-type to release it. The two Pokémon separated, both panting, both hurt.
"Finish it," Nicola said. "Ancient Power!"
Tangela's vines glowed again. The rocks rose, the debris swirled, and the attack shot forward.
Roselia tried to dodge. It almost made it. But the rocks caught its leg, and it stumbled, and the full force of the attack struck it square in the chest.
Roselia flew backward. It hit the ground. It didn't get up.
"Roselia is unable to continue," Briv said. "Nicola wins."
---
The small crowd applauded. Lindsay recalled Roselia with a sigh, but her smile was genuine when she crossed the arena to shake Nicola's hand.
"You're really good," Lindsay said. "Like, really, really good."
"You're not bad yourself," Nicola said. "That Bulbasaur's got potential."
"Thanks. I've been working with him a lot."
They walked back to the others. Patricia had already found a vendor selling cold drinks and was distributing them. Dariana was talking to a group of trainers who'd recognized her from her League matches. Samuel had appeared at some point, his sketchbook tucked under his arm.
"That was fun," Lindsay said, accepting a drink from Patricia. "I haven't had a battle like that in months."
"You should come with us," Dariana said. "We're heading to the League together. Safety in numbers."
Lindsay's eyes widened. "Really? You'd let me?"
"Of course," Briv said. "We could use another pair of hands. And eyes."
Lindsay beamed. "I'd love that. I mean, I really, really love that. Thank you."
"No problem."
The festival continued around them—music, laughter, the smell of food and the glow of lanterns. For a moment, Briv allowed himself to relax. To enjoy the simple pleasure of being surrounded by friends, by allies, by people who cared.
But in the back of his mind, the clock was ticking.
Two days until the League.
Two days until everything changed.
---
That night, back at the inn, Briv stood on the balcony again.
The canals glittered below. The city hummed with life. And somewhere out there, Jack was watching. Waiting. Planning.
Briv clenched his fists.
"Let him come," he whispered. "We'll be ready."
The stars above Aethelburg burned cold and bright.
And the countdown continued.