Damn, Kalos?

It was a wasteland, as far as the eye could see—an endless stretch of barren, dry land. We trudged through it, with no sign of life, no sign of anything, really. The air felt thick, oppressive, and the harsh wind kicked up fine dust that stung my face and made each breath feel shallow. The dry earth beneath our feet was cracked and unyielding, like the world itself had forgotten how to live.

Days had passed without a single sign of life. No cacti, no shrubs, no pokemons—not even the buzz of distant Pokémon in the air. There was only the endless stretch of emptiness surrounding us. I couldn't tell how much time had passed, but it felt like we were walking through a place that had been forgotten by time itself.

The sun beat down relentlessly during the day, its heat unrelenting. By night, the temperature plummeted, and the wind picked up, becoming cold enough to bite into the skin. It felt like we were walking through an unforgiving desert, yet it wasn't quite a desert—it was something else entirely. Something foreign. Something unnatural.

But after what felt like an eternity, a break in the monotonous landscape appeared on the horizon. A shape—a structure, perhaps. My heart quickened as I squinted, trying to make sense of what lay ahead.

As we neared, I saw it clearly—a village. Small, but there it was, nestled against the edge of the barren land. The sight of it filled me with a sense of relief that I hadn't realized I'd been holding back. There were people there. People living, breathing, walking around.

I couldn't believe it. After days of wandering this wasteland, we had finally found a sign of civilization. The village was modest, with houses built of wood and stone, their rooftops simple and functional. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and the faint sound of voices and movement drifted toward us on the breeze.

I couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief, my Pokémon similarly watching the village, their movements slowing as they too seemed to sense the change in the air. Gabite's steps were lighter, and Larvitar's usual caution seemed to ease just a bit. Aegislash floated beside me, its presence always calm, like it was waiting for something.

I took a few more steps forward, my gaze locked on the village ahead. It wasn't much, but it was everything after the desolate wasteland we had crossed. We were finally somewhere that felt real, somewhere that had been untouched by the emptiness of the land we had traveled.

The old man seemed to have disappeared into the village. I neither had the energy nor the patience to search for him, so I settled for simply looking around the village.

As we approached, I noticed the village wasn't as lively as I had hoped. It was quiet, almost too quiet. The people were there, but they moved slowly, their faces hollow, their expressions distant. No one waved as we approached. No children ran to greet us. The entire atmosphere felt… off. It wasn't the warm, welcoming feeling I had expected from a village. It felt like there was something held back, something beneath the surface that no one was talking about.

But we were here. And that was enough for now.

I walked into the village cautiously, my Pokémon close behind me. The first building I came across looked like a small inn or shop. There was a person standing outside, a woman, though she didn't seem to notice us at first. I cleared my throat softly, hoping to break the silence.

"Excuse me," I called, my voice tentative. "Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

The woman turned, her eyes meeting mine. She was older, her features worn and weathered by time, but her eyes held something deep—something like a distant memory. Her lips parted, but for a moment, she said nothing.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but steady. "You're not from here, are you?"

"No," I said, my gaze sweeping over the village again. "We've been traveling for days. We're… lost, I guess. This is the first sign of life we've seen in a long time."

Her eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the wasteland met the village. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped her lips, and she stepped aside, motioning for us to enter the building. "You've come at a time when people like you shouldn't be here. But… it's too late to turn back now."

My curiosity piqued, I nodded. "What do you mean?"

The woman shook her head, as if not wanting to explain. "It's not my place to tell you. Just… be careful."

She gestured for us to follow her inside, and we did. The cool interior of the building was a welcome change from the heat of the day, but as we entered, the strange, unsettling atmosphere of the village began to creep in.

As we sat down, the woman handed me a cup of warm tea. It had a calming effect, but it did little to ease the tension building in my chest. Whatever this village was hiding, I was about to find out.

—-

This was the first night in a long time where I had slept with little to no problem. There was no sense of danger in the confines of these four walls, even with the tension building I somehow had a very good sleep.

The morning came quietly. After completing my usual routine, I put on the clothes the lady had provided me. It was a white robe similar to the one all of the people here were wearing. It was the same as the one I had seen in the past of kalos. I then stepped out of my room. The old lady was once again seated at the front of the place, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her face devoid of any visible emotion.

My heart sank slightly at the sight. I recognized that expression all too well—the hollow look of someone who had lost something precious. It was the same emptiness I carried for the first month after my parents died. Though, in her case, it seemed to run deeper, as though it had carved itself into her very soul.

"Good morning," I greeted her softly.

Her response was as muted as the village itself—a simple nod, her head moving up and down without a single word. I couldn't help but notice how little had changed between yesterday and today. The same heavy silence hung in the air, the same hollow expressions etched into the faces of the villagers.

The village wasn't large, not even by modest standards. It consisted of a single main street with just over ten structures lining it. Calling it a village felt generous—it was more like a small colony, simple and isolated.

As I wandered through the quiet streets, I noticed a group of people heading out of the village, moving in a direction opposite to where I had arrived from. My ever-present curiosity itched to follow them, but I had learned the hard way that it often led me into situations I regretted. I already had enough trouble on my plate. So, I resisted the urge and let them go, deciding instead to continue exploring the area.

My Pokémon stayed in their Pokéballs. I had noticed there wasn't a single Pokémon in the village, and I didn't want to inadvertently create tension. The villagers seemed distant enough as it was. I didn't want to make them feel uneasy or bring unnecessary attention to myself.

As I walked through the narrow paths, lost in thought, I suddenly collided with someone, the impact sending them stumbling to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I quickly said, extending a hand to help them up. "I wasn't paying attention."

The person looked up at me, and my breath caught. It was a woman, her face framed by strands of slightly disheveled hair. But what made me freeze were her eyes. Unlike the others I'd seen in the village, hers were alive, filled with emotion—worry etched deep within them. Yet, that wasn't the only thing that made my heart skip a beat.

She looked... familiar.

She took my hand and helped herself up.

I noticed her appearance—white hair that resembled snow, flowing past her shoulders, with neatly parted bangs that framed her face. Her red eyes burned like embers, intense and filled with worry. A single thick braid ran down her back, tightly woven and secured at the end, reflecting a sense of order. She wore the same white robes as the others in the village, simple and carrying an air of quiet dignity.

"It's not a problem," she said timidly. She looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "Thank you for helping me up. I should have been watching where I was going."

"It's really no problem," I replied, waving my hand dismissively. "Honestly, I wasn't paying attention either. Let's call it even."

She gave me a small, polite smile, though there was a hint of hesitation behind it. "You're not from here, are you?"

I chuckled, scratching the back of my head. "That obvious?"

She tilted her head slightly, her red eyes studying me with quiet curiosity. "It's just that... not many people pass through here. Most don't even find this place. Only a few are lucky enough," she said, her voice softening as her gaze drifted to the ground.

Her words hung in the air, and I could sense the weight behind them. Not many would make it out of that wasteland alive, traveling for days on end. It was only because of the old man that I'd made it this far.

"Well," I said with a faint smile, "guess that makes me one of the lucky ones." I paused for a moment before adding, "And you are…?" I trailed off, turning the statement into a gentle question.

She picked up on the cue. "Aria. Aria Etoile," she said, her lips curving into a small but genuine smile. It was a graceful name.

"Nice to meet you, Aria," I said. "I'm—" I hesitated, the question of what name to give clawing at the edges of my thoughts. My identity felt split, torn between the life I had before and the one I had now. Which name did I want to own?

"May I know your name?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her crimson eyes.

And just like that, my mouth moved on its own, betraying my inner turmoil. "Nova Zyx," I said, the name rolling off my tongue almost as if it belonged to someone else.

"Nova Zyx," she repeated softly as if testing the sound of it. "It's... unique. I like it."

I felt a small wave of relief wash over me, though I wasn't sure why. "Thanks. And, uh, sorry again for bumping into you."

"No harm done," she said, brushing off the encounter with a light chuckle. "Though, you might want to keep an eye on where you're going. This village doesn't get many visitors, and you wouldn't want to make a habit of knocking over the locals."

I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at that. "Noted. I'll try not to make it a habit."

She glanced in the direction I had come from, the worry that had briefly faded now creeping back onto her face. "It was nice talking to you, Nova," she said, her voice polite but tinged with urgency. "But I'm in a bit of a hurry, so if you wouldn't mind, I should be on my way."

I stepped aside and let her go on about her day. There was nothing else for me to do here so I went back to the place I was staying.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a week since I arrived, and with each passing day, the truth of this place became more evident. This wasn't just a village—it was a refuge, a place where people had gathered not because they belonged here, but because they had nowhere else to go. The more I observed, the more I understood. Their distant eyes, their wary glances, the way they carried themselves—it all spoke of a quiet, shared grief.

My Pokémon were starting to grow restless. They had been confined to their Poké Balls for far too long, and I could feel their frustration every time I reached for my belt. They needed air, space, and freedom. But here, inside the village, it was tricky. I hadn't seen a single Pokémon since arriving, and I had no idea how the people here would react if I let mine out. There was a strange, unspoken silence regarding Pokémon—one I wasn't sure I wanted to break just yet.

That's why I made up my mind. I had noticed something in the past few days—people leaving the village in small groups, always heading in the same direction. No one ever spoke about it, but it happened like clockwork, early in the morning and sometimes late in the afternoon. Curiosity was second nature to me, and I had ignored it long enough. If I couldn't let my Pokémon out here, then maybe I'd find a better place beyond the village's borders.

With that thought, I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way towards the outskirts. The air felt heavier here, charged with something unspoken, like I was stepping across an invisible boundary. Ahead, the path stretched into the barren landscape—the same wasteland I had crossed to get here. But unlike before, there was something different. A faint trail, worn into the earth, marked the way forward, shaped by the footsteps of those who had walked it time and time again.

I followed the worn trail, the sun beating down relentlessly, draining every bit of energy I had left. My clothes clung to my skin, the heat turning each step into a chore. It was the kind of weather that made you wonder why you even bothered to leave the shade in the first place. But I pushed on, telling myself it was for my Pokémon—and maybe a little bit for my own damn curiosity.

At first, the path was simple. One way forward, no forks, no unnecessary bullshit. Just me, the dusty ground, and the occasional gust of wind throwing sand into my face like nature itself was flipping me off.

And then, because the universe apparently had a personal vendetta against me, the footsteps split. Not into two, not even three—four. Four fucking directions. I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the diverging paths like they had personally insulted me.

"Of course," I muttered, throwing my hands up. "Why the fuck would anything be straightforward? Nooo, that would be too easy. Let's just complicate the shit out of it instead!"

I sighed, rubbing my temples, already regretting my life choices. Maybe I should've just stayed in the village and stared at walls like everyone else. That seemed easier than playing 'pick a path and pray' in the middle of a wasteland.

I crouched down, inspecting the trails, trying to see if one of them looked more traveled than the others. No luck—whoever walked these paths had been consistent, making it impossible to tell which was the 'main' route.

"Alright, brain, do your thing," I muttered, tapping my temple. "Which way screams 'less likely to get me killed'?"

No answer, obviously, because my brain hated me as much as the universe did.

I stood up, exhaling sharply. "Fuck it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe." I pointed randomly between the paths, landing on the one slightly to my left. "You're the lucky winner."

With that, I started walking, fully prepared for this to go horribly wrong.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the village [Aria's POV]

I ran.

My feet barely touched the ground as I sprinted toward the village's entrance, heart pounding against my ribs. The air was dry, the wind biting against my skin, but none of it mattered. Not right now.

The gates—if they could even be called that—stood ahead, two worn wooden posts marking the threshold between this place and the vast emptiness beyond. I barely noticed them as I came to a stop, my breath uneven, my eyes locking onto the endless wasteland stretching before me.

Nothing.

No one.

I swallowed, my throat parched, my fingers clenching at the fabric of my robes.

They should be here by now.

I stood there, my gaze unwavering, waiting—hoping. The wind howled past, whipping strands of my hair into my face, but I didn't blink. I couldn't. Because if I did, maybe I would miss it—the moment they finally appeared on the horizon.

But the horizon stayed empty.

I had been doing this for days now, running to the gates every time, searching for something—someone—that never came. Each time, the silence greeted me, mocking me.

Still, I couldn't stop.

I couldn't let go of the hope.

But hope is a fragile thing, isn't it? It cracks, piece by piece, with every passing second of unanswered prayers.

A sharp gust of wind tore through the wasteland, stinging my eyes. I exhaled shakily, my chest tightening as I fought the familiar weight pressing down on me. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to demand answers from the universe, to ask why—why the people who left never seemed to return.

But I didn't.

Because I couldn't.

Why?

Why did the people who left never return? Why did their footsteps disappear into the horizon, leaving only dust in their wake? Why did I still stand here, waiting, knowing deep down that I was waiting for nothing?

But I didn't scream.

Because I couldn't.

Because screaming wouldn't change anything. Because no matter how loud I was, the world would continue to move without giving me the answers I desperately sought.

And so, I made my choice.

If the answers wouldn't come to me, I would go find them myself.

I took a slow, deep breath, steadying my resolve. My gaze drifted back to the village, to the worn wooden posts that barely served as a barrier between this place and the unknown. They were meant to keep us safe. To keep us inside.

I had no intention of staying inside any longer.

The decision settled into my bones, solid and immovable. I turned back toward the wasteland, my heart pounding—not with fear, but with determination.

The wind howled, as if warning me, but I ignored it.

Tomorrow, at dawn, I will leave.

And I would find the truth, no matter what it took.

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another one dropping soon