Chapter 67: Budew's Flowers
The rooftop garden above the Aethelburg inn was Patricia's sanctuary.
She had discovered it three weeks ago, after a particularly brutal training session with Buizel that had left her soaked in sweat and questioning every choice she had ever made. The innkeeper, a tired-looking woman with kind eyes and a perpetual smudge of flour on her cheek, had mentioned it offhandedly—something about a greenhouse that nobody used anymore, a relic from a previous owner who had dreamed of growing rare herbs before the city's pollution had killed everything he planted.
Patricia had climbed the narrow stairs expecting nothing.
What she found was a small, glass-paneled conservatory perched on the roof like a forgotten crown, its windows fogged with condensation, its floor tiles cracked and overgrown with weeds. But the soil in the raised beds was still rich and dark. The glass still held heat. And the morning sun, filtering through the crystal towers of Aethelburg, still reached this place with a warm, golden light that felt almost sacred.
She had cleaned it out over the course of a week. Pulled the weeds. Repaired the cracked panes with tape and stubbornness. Brought in pots of herbs from the market—basil, mint, rosemary, and a single pale green fern that reminded her of the forests back home in Eterna.
Now, three weeks later, the conservatory was alive.
The basil had grown thick and fragrant. The mint had spread across its pot like a green fire. The rosemary stood tall and proud, its needle-like leaves catching the light. And in the corner, nestled in a bed of soft moss, Budew sat motionless, its tiny green body barely visible against the leaves.
Patricia knelt beside it.
She had been worried about Budew for days now. The little Grass-type had always been slow—dreamy, absent-minded, prone to drifting off mid-movement. But lately, it had been slower than usual. It barely responded to commands. It barely ate. It just sat there, its half-open eyes staring at nothing, its tiny body trembling with something Patricia couldn't name.
She had consulted Nicola, who had suggested it might be close to evolution.
She had consulted Samuel, who had suggested it might just need more sunlight.
She had consulted Dariana, who had suggested it might be constipated and needed more fiber.
None of them had been helpful.
And now, with the League three weeks away and the weight of Malcolm Vane's name pressing down on all of them, Patricia found herself on the roof at dawn, her knees aching from the cold stone, her hands cupped around Budew's small form, trying to figure out what was wrong.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered.
Budew didn't respond.
"I've tried everything. More water. Less water. More sun. Less sun. I've talked to you. I've sung to you. I've even tried reading to you from Nicola's book about Malcolm Vane, which I know was a bad idea because that book is terrifying, but I thought maybe the sound of my voice would help."
Budew's eyes flickered.
It was such a small movement that Patricia almost missed it.
"Hey," she said softly. "Hey, I'm here. I'm right here."
She lifted Budew gently and cradled it against her chest. The little Grass-type was warm against her skin, its heartbeat slow and steady, its body radiating a soft, earthy smell that reminded her of the moss after rain.
"Remember when we first met?" Patricia said. "It was at the nursery in Eterna. You were the smallest one in the tray. Everyone else was reaching for the sun, growing tall, unfurling their leaves. And you were just... sitting there. Dreaming. Not even trying."
She smiled.
"I picked you because you reminded me of myself."
Budew's eyes opened a little wider.
"I was always the quiet one. The one who didn't stand out. The one who let everyone else take the spotlight because I didn't think I deserved it." Patricia stroked the soft green leaves on Budew's head. "But then Briv came along, and he saw something in me that I didn't see in myself. He told me I was strong. He told me I was smart. He told me I was good enough."
She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.
"And he was right. I am good enough. And so are you."
Budew's body shuddered.
Patricia looked down.
The little Grass-type was glowing.
It was a soft, golden light at first—barely visible in the morning sun. But it grew brighter, pulsing in rhythm with Budew's heartbeat, spreading from its center outward until Patricia could feel the warmth against her palms.
The glow intensified.
Patricia's breath caught in her throat.
The light became blinding.
She shielded her eyes with one hand, still holding Budew with the other, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. The glow spread through the conservatory, reflecting off the glass, filling the little rooftop garden with a radiance that seemed to push back the shadows.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the light faded.
Patricia lowered her hand.
The Pokémon in her arms was different now.
It was taller, for one thing—almost twice the size Budew had been. Its body was a deep, vibrant green, and its head was crowned with a pair of delicate rose-like flowers, one red and one blue, their petals unfurling in the morning light. It had slender arms tipped with small red and blue buds, and its eyes—still half-open, still dreamy—held a new depth, a new awareness.
It looked at Patricia.
Patricia looked at it.
"Budew?" she whispered.
The Pokémon shook its head.
Then it smiled.
And Patricia understood.
She burst into tears.
"You evolved," she gasped. "You actually evolved. Oh my god. Oh my god."
The newly evolved Roselia leaned forward and pressed its forehead against Patricia's cheek. The gesture was so gentle, so affectionate, that Patricia's tears turned into laughter.
"I'm so proud of you," she said. "I'm so, so proud."
Roselia hummed softly.
The sound was like wind chimes.
---
The conservatory door burst open.
Patricia spun.
Briv stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild, his chest heaving like he had sprinted all the way up the stairs.
"I heard you scream," he said. "Are you okay? What happened? Is everything—"
He stopped.
He stared at Roselia.
Roselia stared back.
"Holy shit," Briv said.
"I know."
"That's a Roselia."
"I know."
"Budew evolved into a Roselia."
"I KNOW."
Briv crossed the conservatory in three quick strides and pulled Patricia into his arms, crushing her against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, could smell the coffee on his breath and the rain in his hair, and she laughed again, tears still streaming down her face.
"I'm so proud of you," he said into her hair. "I'm so proud."
"It's not about me," she said. "It's about Roselia."
"It's about both of you." He pulled back and looked at her, his brown eyes shining. "You did this. You raised it. You loved it. You believed in it."
Patricia wiped her eyes.
"I just talked to it," she said. "I just told it the truth."
"That's all it needed."
Roselia hummed again, and Briv turned to look at it.
It had grown even more beautiful in the light of day, its roses vibrant against the green of its body, its eyes bright with intelligence. It stood taller than Budew ever had, stronger, more confident—but still carrying that same dreamy, gentle quality that had always defined it.
"Hey, Roselia," Briv said.
Roselia inclined its head.
"Welcome to the team."
Roselia smiled.
---
The others came up to the conservatory one by one, drawn by the commotion.
Nicola arrived first, her arms crossed, her expression appraising. She looked at Roselia for a long moment, then nodded.
"Good," she said. "That's good."
"The most enthusiastic endorsement in Nicola history," Briv said.
Nicola elbowed him.
Dariana arrived next, still in her pajamas, her dark hair a tangled mess, Eevee perched on her shoulder like a living scarf. She took one look at Roselia and gasped.
"Oh my god, it's gorgeous."
She rushed forward and knelt in front of Roselia, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Can I touch it? Is it okay if I touch it?"
Roselia extended one of its slender arms, and Dariana gently stroked the petals of its red rose.
"It's so soft," she breathed. "It's like silk."
Samuel arrived last, carrying a tray of tea and a plate of scones that he had somehow managed to prepare in the time it took everyone else to climb the stairs. He set the tray down on a small table and smiled at Roselia with the warmth of a proud uncle.
"The universe has a rhythm," he said. "And this? This is a perfect beat."
Roselia chirped.
Samuel offered it a scone.
Nicola swatted his hand.
"You can't give a Grass-type a scone."
"The universe says otherwise."
"The universe is going to say 'I told you so' when Roselia throws up."
Patricia laughed.
She sat on the floor of the conservatory, Roselia settled in her lap, the morning light pouring through the glass, and felt something ease in her chest—a knot of tension that had been tightening for weeks, loosening at last.
She had been so worried about the League. So worried about Malcolm Vane. So worried about being good enough, strong enough, smart enough.
But sitting here, surrounded by her friends, with Roselia warm and alive in her arms, she realized that none of that mattered.
What mattered was this.
What mattered was them.
---
Later that afternoon, they gathered in the training yard behind the inn.
The rain had returned, but it was gentle now—a soft drizzle misting the air, beading on the leaves of the training dummies, turning the cobblestones slick and dark. Patricia stood at one end of the yard, Roselia beside her, both of them drenched but unbothered.
"Alright," Briv called from the sideline. "Let's see what you've got."
Patricia nodded.
"Roselia—Absorb!"
Roselia extended its arms, and a pulse of green energy shot toward one of the training dummies. The wooden target cracked, splinters flying, and a thin stream of sap sizzled up the energy beam and into Roselia's body.
"Good!" Patricia shouted. "Now—Stun Spore!"
A cloud of golden dust puffed from Roselia's flowers and settled over the dummy.
"Now—Mega Drain!"
Briv whistled.
"Okay, that's impressive."
"She's strong," Patricia said. "She was always strong. She just needed to believe it."
Roselia turned and looked at her.
Patricia met its eyes.
And for a moment—just a moment—she saw herself reflected in those calm, knowing eyes.
A quiet girl. A dreamy girl. A girl who had never thought she was good enough.
And above all that, a girl who had learned that she was.
---
That night, they all gathered at the inn for dinner.
The common room was warm and crowded, filled with the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread and the low hum of conversation. Briv sat at the head of the table, Patricia beside him, Nicola across, Dariana and Samuel squeezed in on either side.
Axel sat at the far end, his Rotom flickering at his shoulder, his green eyes scanning the room like he was cataloging every exit and entry point.
Officer Jenny was there too, her teal-blue hair pulled back in its usual ponytail, her navy uniform crisp despite the long day. She didn't say much, but she watched the door, and her hand rested on her belt, close to her Pokémon.
The conversation drifted to the League.
"Our first matches are in three weeks," Nicola said, slicing into her steak. "We need to be ready."
"We are ready," Briv said.
"We're as ready as we can be."
"That's not the same thing."
"It's close enough."
Dariana leaned forward, her eyes bright.
"Do you know who you're facing?"
"Not yet," Briv said. "The brackets won't be released until the day before."
"Same for us," Patricia said.
Samuel spooned rice onto his plate.
"The universe will provide."
"The universe isn't competing in a tournament," Nicola said.
"The universe is always competing," Samuel said. "It's just more subtle about it."
Nicola rolled her eyes.
Officer Jenny leaned forward.
"You've all heard about the Eclipse Squad."
The table went quiet.
"We have," Briv said.
"They're dangerous. More dangerous than you realize." Jenny's green eyes were hard. "We've had reports. Sightings. Members gathering in the city, though we haven't been able to find their base." She paused. "If you see anything suspicious—anything at all—you come to me. Understood?"
"Understood," they said.
Axel cleared his throat.
"There's something else."
Everyone turned.
Axel reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph. He set it on the table, face-down.
"I've been doing some digging," he said. "On Malcolm Vane. On the Eclipse Squad. On the League."
He flipped the photograph over.
It showed a man.
He was tall and lean, with dark hair and a sharp, angular face. He wore a black suit, a black tie, and a silver pin on his lapel shaped like a crescent moon.
Briv's blood ran cold.
"That's him," he said. "That's Malcolm Vane."
"Correct." Axel tapped the photograph. "But that's not why I'm showing you this."
He pointed to the man's lapel pin.
"That symbol. It matches the emblem on Revan's jacket. The Eclipse Squad emblem."
Nicola leaned forward.
"So they're connected."
"They're more than connected." Axel's voice was low. "I've traced the money. The resources. The training facilities. Everything the Eclipse Squad has—everything they've built—comes from one source."
He looked at Briv.
"Malcolm Vane."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Patricia reached under the table and took Briv's hand.
"So what do we do?" she asked.
Axel smiled.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
"We do what we've always done," he said. "We train. We prepare. And when they come for us—"
He leaned back in his chair.
"We make them regret it."
---
Briv and Patricia climbed the stairs to their room in silence.
The inn was quiet now, the others retired to their own quarters, the rain a soft whisper against the windows. Briv closed the door behind them and leaned against it, his eyes closed, his jaw tight.
Patricia crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey," she said.
He opened his eyes.
"Hey."
"Come here."
He walked over and sat beside her. She took his hand again, lacing her fingers through his, and pressed her shoulder against his.
"For what it's worth," she said, "I think we're going to win."
Briv laughed.
"Optimism?"
"Realism." She looked at him. "We've got six Pokémon between us. Six strong, loyal, determined Pokémon. We've got Dariana and Nicola and Samuel. We've got Axel. We've got Officer Jenny."
She squeezed his hand.
"And we've got each other."
Briv stared at her.
Then he leaned in and kissed her.
It was a gentle kiss at first—soft, tender, the kind of kiss that said I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. But it deepened quickly, the tension of the day bleeding into something else, something warmer, something hungry.
Patricia pulled back.
"Not tonight," she said.
Briv blinked.
"Not tonight," she repeated. "Tonight, I just want to hold you."
She shifted onto the bed, pulling him with her, and wrapped her arms around his chest. He lay beside her, his face buried in her hair, his breathing slow and steady.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too."
The rain fell.
The city hummed.
And somewhere in the darkness, the pieces were moving.
But here, in this small room, everything was still.
---
At dawn, Patricia woke to the sound of Roselia humming.
She sat up.
Roselia was perched on the windowsill, its roses catching the first light of morning, its eyes fixed on something in the distance.
Patricia followed its gaze.
Across the city, beyond the crystal towers and floating bridges, a plume of black smoke was rising into the sky.
"Briv," she said.
He was already awake.
"Get dressed," he said. "Something's happened."
They ran downstairs.
The others were already gathered in the common room, gathered around a small television that was showing a news report. Officer Jenny stood in front of it, her face pale.
"Fire," she said. "In the upper district. The Aethelburg Museum of Pokémon History."
Briv's blood ran cold.
"That's where the League trophy is kept."
Jenny looked at him.
"Not the trophy," she said. "The history. The archives. Everything we know about the founding trainers, the League's origins, the first battles." She paused. "It's all gone."
Nicola stepped forward.
"Who did this?"
Jenny's expression was grim.
"We don't know yet. But we found a symbol burned into the wall."
She held up a photograph.
It was a crescent moon.
The Eclipse Squad.
Briv clenched his fists.
"They're making their move," he said.
"We need to be ready."
"We will be."
He looked at Patricia.
She looked at him.
And together, they turned to face the new day.
---
Patricia stood in the training yard with Roselia in front of her.
After the commotion had died down, after the news reports had been watched, after everyone had talked and talked and talked about what to do—Patricia had excused herself. She had come here, to the quiet space behind the inn, to think.
And to train.
Roselia stood tall and bright, its roses unfurling in the morning sun.
"Alright," Patricia said. "We've got three weeks. Let's make them count."
Roselia nodded.
"Absorb!"
Roselia fired the attack.
Something stirred in Patricia's chest.
It was the same thing she had felt on the rooftop—that feeling of certainty, of strength, of knowing that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She had spent years doubting herself. Years thinking she wasn't good enough. Years letting everyone else take the spotlight while she faded into the background.
But that was over now.
She had a partner. She had a team. She had friends who believed in her.
And she had Roselia.
A Pokémon who had been small and quiet and dreamy.
Just like her.
A Pokémon who had grown into something beautiful.
Just like her.
"Again," Patricia said. "And this time, put everything into it."
Roselia smiled.
And then it struck the training dummy so hard the wood exploded.
Patricia laughed.
"That's my girl."
Roselia chirped.
The sun rose higher.
The city hummed.
And Patricia Crownleaf—quiet girl, dreamy girl, girl who had finally learned to believe in herself—stood in the center of the yard, surrounded by life and light, and felt ready.
For anything.
For everything.
For what was coming.
=====
For what was coming.
For everything.
The training yard behind the inn had transformed overnight into something resembling a proper battlefield. Someone—probably Samuel, given the careful arrangement of sandbags and painted boundary lines—had marked out a regulation arena on the flat stretch of cobblestone, complete with a center circle and two trainer boxes at opposite ends.
Patricia stood in her box, Roselia at her side, watching Nicoleta stretch on the far end of the field. The morning sun had burned off the last of the rain, leaving the stones steaming slightly, and the air smelled of wet earth and ozone.
Nicoleta rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck.
"You ready for this?"
"I've been ready."
"Good." Nicoleta pulled three Poké Balls from her belt and juggled them casually from hand to hand. "Because I'm not going easy on you."
"I'd be insulted if you did."
Axel materialized from the inn's back door, Rotom flickering at his shoulder like a living flame. He walked to the center of the field, his tablet tucked under one arm, his green eyes sharp and assessing.
"Standard rules," he said. "Three-on-three. No substitutions. The battle ends when one trainer has no Pokémon remaining." He looked at each of them in turn. "Names?"
"Patricia Crownleaf."
"Nicoleta Vane."
Patricia's head snapped toward Nicoleta.
"Vane?"
Nicoleta's expression didn't change.
"Distant cousin," she said. "Very distant. We don't talk."
"How distant?"
"Far enough that I want to punch him in the face every time I see his picture."
Axel cleared his throat before Patricia could respond.
"Ladies. You can discuss family trees later. Right now, you have a battle to fight." He stepped back to the edge of the field. "Send out your first Pokémon."
Nicoleta moved first.
"Jynx," she said.
The ball opened in a flash of purple and pink light, and a tall, humanoid Pokémon materialized on the field. Jynx stood nearly five feet tall, its body covered in a bright red dress that seemed to be part of its skin, its face a pale purple mask with wide, expressive eyes and a pair of full, almost comical purple lips. Its blonde hair cascaded down its back in thick waves, and its long, slender fingers ended in sharp, precise nails.
Patricia considered her options.
Jynx was an Ice- and Psychic-type. Fast. Powerful. Capable of moves like Ice Punch, Psychic, and Lovely Kiss. It had access to Dry Skin, an ability that made it heal from Water-type attacks while weakening it against Fire.
She needed to start strong.
"Magby," she said.
Magby materialized in a burst of red light, its small body already crackling with heat. The little Fire-type bounced on its feet, its flame-like head-tuft blazing in the morning sun, its eyes fixed on Jynx with eager, impatient hunger.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Jynx moved first.
"Ice Punch!"
Jynx glided forward, its fist glowing with icy energy.
"Magby—Flame Wheel!"
Magby curled into a ball and rolled forward, its body erupting in flames. The two attacks collided in the center of the field, fire meeting ice in a hissing cloud of steam.
Jynx recoiled.
Magby kept rolling.
"Again!" Patricia shouted. "Don't give it time to recover!"
Magby spun through the steam and slammed into Jynx's legs.
Jynx stumbled.
"Jynx—Psychic!" Nicoleta shouted.
Jynx's eyes glowed, and a wave of telekinetic force shot toward Magby.
Magby flew backward, its body tumbling across the cobblestones.
"Get up!" Patricia shouted.
Magby pushed itself to its feet.
Its flame-tuft flickered.
It was hurt. Patricia could see it in the way it held its side, the way its breathing had gone shallow and quick. But it wasn't done. Not yet.
"Magby—Smog!"
Magby opened its mouth and released a cloud of dark, toxic smoke.
Jynx coughed.
"Now—Flame Wheel!"
Magby curled into a ball again and rolled through the smoke, its body igniting the toxic cloud as it passed. The explosion was small but bright, and Jynx staggered backward, its dress singed, its eyes watering.
"Jynx—Ice Punch!"
Jynx lunged.
Magby tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The Ice Punch connected with Magby's chest, and the little Fire-type flew across the field, its body slamming into the boundary wall.
It didn't get up.
"Magby is unable to battle," Axel said. "Jynx wins."
---
Patricia recalled Magby.
She whispered to the ball before clipping it to her belt.
"You did good," she said. "Rest."
She looked at Nicoleta.
Nicoleta looked back.
"Buizel," Patricia said.
Buizel materialized in a flash of orange light, its sleek body already in motion before it fully formed. The little Water-type landed on its feet, its twin tails swishing, its eyes bright with confidence.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Buizel moved first.
"Aqua Jet!"
Buizel launched itself forward like a torpedo, its body surrounded by water.
Jynx tried to dodge.
Buizel was faster.
The Aqua Jet struck Jynx square in the chest, and the Ice-type flew backward, its body skidding across the wet stones.
"Jynx—Psychic!"
Jynx's eyes glowed.
Buizel's momentum died.
"Buizel—break free!" Patricia shouted.
Buizel struggled against the telekinetic grip.
"Now—Ice Punch!" Nicoleta shouted.
Jynx lunged.
"Buizel—dodge!"
Buizel twisted in midair.
The Ice Punch missed by inches.
"Again—Aqua Jet!"
Buizel launched itself forward again, and this time the attack caught Jynx under the chin.
Jynx's head snapped back.
It fell.
"Jynx is unable to battle," Axel said. "Buizel wins."
---
Nicoleta recalled Jynx.
Her expression hadn't changed—still calm, still focused—but Patricia knew her well enough to see the flicker of irritation beneath the surface.
"Shuppet," Nicoleta said.
The ball opened in a flash of dark purple light, and a small, ghostly Pokémon materialized on the field. Shuppet was little more than a floating scrap of dark cloth with a single, glowing eye and a horn-like protrusion on top of its head. It hovered in the air, its body tattered and shifting, its eye fixed on Buizel with unsettling calm.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Shuppet moved first.
"Shadow Sneak!"
Shuppet disappeared.
Buizel spun around, trying to track its opponent.
"Buizel—stay alert!" Patricia shouted.
Shuppet reappeared behind Buizel.
Its horn glowed with dark energy.
"Buizel—dodge!"
Buizel twisted.
The Shadow Sneak grazed its side.
"Now—Knock Off!" Nicoleta shouted.
Shuppet lunged forward and struck Buizel's wrist, knocking the flotation sac loose from around its neck. The sac tumbled across the cobblestones, and Buizel stumbled, its buoyancy thrown off.
"Buizel—Water Gun!"
Buizel fired a jet of water.
Shuppet dodged.
"Again!"
Buizel fired again.
Shuppet dodged again.
"Now—Shadow Ball!"
Shuppet gathered dark energy into a sphere between its tattered edges and launched it at Buizel.
The attack struck Buizel dead-on.
Buizel flew backward and hit the ground hard.
It didn't move.
"Buizel is unable to battle," Axel said. "Shuppet wins."
---
Patricia recalled Buizel.
Her hand was steady.
She had known this would be hard. She had known Nicoleta was strong. But she hadn't expected this—the precision, the timing, the way Nicoleta seemed to read her every move before she made it.
She had one Pokémon left.
But she had prepared for this.
"Roselia," she said.
Roselia materialized in a burst of green and white light, its roses unfurling in the morning sun, its eyes calm and focused. The Grass-type stood tall, its slender arms extended, its body radiating a quiet, patient strength.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Shuppet moved first.
"Shadow Sneak!"
Shuppet disappeared.
"Roselia—Stun Spore!"
Roselia released a cloud of golden dust around itself.
Shuppet reappeared behind Roselia—and flew straight into the cloud.
The golden dust clung to its tattered body, and Shuppet twitched as paralysis seized its form.
"Now—Mega Drain!" Patricia shouted.
Roselia extended its arms, and a pulse of green energy shot toward Shuppet.
Shuppet tried to dodge.
It couldn't move.
The Mega Drain struck, and Shuppet's body dimmed as its energy was pulled into Roselia's.
"Shuppet—Shadow Ball!" Nicoleta shouted.
Shuppet struggled through the paralysis and launched a Shadow Ball.
Roselia took the hit.
It staggered.
"Roselia—Absorb!"
Roselia fired another pulse of green energy.
Shuppet fell.
"Shuppet is unable to battle," Axel said. "Roselia wins."
---
Nicoleta recalled Shuppet.
She looked at the ball in her hand for a long moment.
Then she looked at Patricia.
"Not bad," she said.
"I'm just getting started."
Nicoleta smiled.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
"Nuzleaf," she said.
The ball opened in a flash of brown and green light, and a medium-sized Pokémon materialized on the field. Nuzleaf stood about three feet tall, with a body made of pale wood, a leaf growing from the top of its head, and a long, pointed nose. It held its arms crossed, its eyes sharp and calculating, its posture relaxed but ready.
"Begin," Axel said.
---
Nuzleaf moved first.
"Fake Out!"
Nuzleaf lunged forward and clapped its hands together, releasing a burst of dark energy.
Roselia flinched.
"Now—Razor Leaf!" Nicoleta shouted.
Nuzleaf swung its arm, and a storm of sharp leaves shot toward Roselia.
"Roselia—Protect!"
A green barrier shimmered into existence around Roselia, and the leaves bounced harmlessly off its surface.
"Now—Stun Spore!"
Roselia released another cloud of golden dust.
Nuzleaf tried to dodge.
It was too slow.
The dust settled over its body, and Nuzleaf twitched as paralysis took hold.
"Now—Mega Drain!"
Roselia fired a pulse of green energy.
Nuzleaf couldn't dodge.
The attack struck, and Nuzleaf's energy flowed into Roselia's body.
"Again!"
Another pulse.
Nuzleaf staggered.
"Again!"
A third pulse.
Nuzleaf fell.
"Nuzleaf is unable to battle," Axel said. "Roselia wins. Patricia wins the match."
---
The training yard was silent except for the drip of water from the eaves and the distant hum of the city.
Nicoleta stood at the edge of the field, her last Poké Ball in her hand, her expression unreadable. She looked at Roselia for a long moment, then at Patricia, and then she walked across the field with her hand extended.
"Good match," she said.
Patricia shook her hand.
"Good match."
Nicoleta's grip was firm.
"Your Roselia's strong. Stronger than I expected."
"She's been through a lot."
"We all have."
Nicoleta released her hand and stepped back.
"This isn't over," she said. "The League's coming. And when we face each other there, I'm not going to hold back."
"Neither am I."
Nicoleta smiled.
It was a real smile this time.
"Good."
She turned and walked back toward the inn.
Patricia watched her go.
Then she looked at Roselia.
Roselia looked back at her, its roses bright, its eyes calm, its body humming with quiet satisfaction.
"We did it," Patricia said.
Roselia chirped.
"We actually did it."
She knelt and wrapped her arms around Roselia's body, pulling the Grass-type close.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for believing in me."
Roselia pressed its forehead against her cheek.
And Patricia felt something shift inside her—a weight lifting, a door opening, a path clearing.
She had won eight battles now. Eight wins out of sixteen challenges. She was officially qualified for the League.
But more than that.
She was strong.
She was confident.
She was ready.
Axel approached, his tablet tucked under his arm.
"Congratulations," he said. "That's your eighth win. You're officially in the top tier of qualifiers."
"Top tier?"
"Eight wins puts you in the upper bracket. You'll be seeded higher in the tournament. It doesn't guarantee anything, but it helps."
Patricia nodded.
"Thank you."
Axel looked at Roselia.
"Your Roselia's something special. The bond you have with it—that's not something you can train. That's something you earn."
Patricia smiled.
"I know."
Axel nodded.
"Keep training. The League's going to be brutal this year."
He turned and walked away.
Patricia stood there for a long moment, Roselia in her arms, the city humming around her.
Then she smiled.
---
Later that night, Patricia sat on the balcony of the inn with Briv beside her, Roselia curled in her lap, the city lights flickering below.
"That was a hell of a battle," Briv said.
"It was."
"You beat Nicoleta. You actually beat Nicoleta."
"I know."
"She's going to be insufferable about this for weeks."
"She's already insufferable."
Briv laughed.
"Fair point."
Patricia leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I feel different," she said.
"Different how?"
"Stronger. More confident. Like I've finally figured something out."
"What did you figure out?"
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"That I'm good enough," she said. "That I've always been good enough. I just didn't believe it."
Briv kissed her hair.
"I've been telling you that for years."
"I know. But I had to figure it out for myself."
They sat there in silence, watching the stars wheel overhead and the canals shimmer below.
And somewhere in the darkness, the pieces were moving.
But here, in this moment, everything was still.
---
The next morning, Patricia woke to the sound of her Pokédex buzzing.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and reached for the device on the nightstand. The screen was lit up with a notification—a message from the League registration office.
She opened it.
Her heart stopped.
"Briv," she said.
He stirred beside her.
"What?"
"Wake up."
He sat up, blinking.
"What's wrong?"
Patricia held out the Pokédex.
"The brackets," she said. "They've been released."
Briv took the device and read the screen.
His face went pale.
"First round," he said. "You're facing—"
"Revan Stormcloud," Patricia finished.
The name hung in the air like a blade.
Briv looked at her.
Patricia looked at him.
And somewhere in the distance, the Eclipse Squad emblem burned.
---