Union Cave swallowed them in silence.

  Al stepped carefully across the uneven stone, boots quiet on the slick, mineral-rich ground. Behind him, Gardevoir glided low and silent, her gown-like form brushing the cool air without disturbing it. Ahead, Breloom moved with cautious rhythm, bouncing softly from stone to stone, his every motion a lesson in economy and balance.

  The cave was neither hot nor cold—just still. The kind of stillness that pressed against the skin and crept into the lungs. Water dripped somewhere deep ahead, rhythmic and ancient. It echoed softly through the tunnels, too slow to track, too distant to chart. Every few minutes, the sound changed, just enough to remind them they were not standing still.

  This was a place that had never been tamed.

  (break)

  Al let his fingers brush the wall as they moved forward. The stone was damp, slick with condensation that shimmered faintly when Gardevoir’s body-light caught it. He didn’t use a flashlight. Didn’t need to. His eyes had adjusted quickly in the low light, and his team’s presence—steady and alert—kept him from drifting too far inward.

  He trusted them. Not just with battle, but with awareness.

  Breloom stopped up ahead, crouched low. His posture wasn’t tense—just careful.

  Al slowed, motioning for Gardevoir to dim her glow.

  She responded instantly, her field tightening around her core. The faint shimmer faded, and the darkness returned—close, real, and endless.

  Breloom motioned with one hand.

  Al crept closer, quiet as breath.

  At the bend of the tunnel, where a slope opened slightly into a high cavern chamber, they saw them: a cluster of Zubat, hanging in an uneven patchwork across the upper ceiling. Hundreds of them. Silent, asleep. Their wings twitched occasionally, heads turning with invisible sounds only they could hear.

  No guards. No sentries. Just instinct. Generations of it.

  Al motioned for Breloom to shift left.

  They moved along the edge of the cave, close to the wall, stepping only where water didn’t pool.

  Not a single Zubat stirred.

  (break)

  When they reached the far side of the chamber, Breloom glanced back and gave a low nod, half-proud. Al grinned faintly, then pressed his hand against the stone arch leading deeper.

  The walls narrowed again, squeezing inward to form a ribcage of jagged stone. Gardevoir floated ahead this time, her senses brushing outward, reading the psychic tension of the air. She paused mid-tunnel, one hand rising slowly.

  Al stopped. Breloom tensed.

  A low shuffling sound echoed from deeper in—a dragging, gravel-heavy noise.

  They waited.

  Then it came into view—massive, winding slowly, its stony hide brushing both sides of the tunnel.

  An Onix.

  Not hunting. Just moving. Its eyes half-lidded, head low, tail dragging a small wake of rubble behind it.

  Al didn’t speak. While it wasn't a true threat to them, no need to risk a cave in.

  Gardevoir let her field retract until it was barely a whisper against the stone.

  Onix passed within two meters of them and didn’t turn.

  It was ancient. Scars ran along its body like rivers carved over centuries. Moss clung to its lower segments.

  Then, slowly, it vanished into the dark ahead, tail scraping one final time before the sound faded completely.

  Breloom let out a breath. Gardevoir blinked once.

  Al waited another moment before whispering, “Let’s keep moving.”

  (break)

  They came across a natural spring chamber not long after—deep within the cave, where the walls fell away into a basin of still water. The surface was glass, reflecting faint bioluminescent algae from cracks in the ceiling.

  Breloom dipped his hand in, tasting the water cautiously. He grunted approval.

  Gardevoir stepped closer, then turned, her gaze fixed upward toward a glimmer of psychic energy only she could feel.

  “Something?” Al asked.

  She gave a small, slow nod.

  Then pointed.

  Across the pool, near a rocky outcropping, tiny figures twitched and scurried.

  Sableye.

  Three of them.

  Not hostile. Watching.

  Their eyes glowed faintly, but not with aggression. One of them tapped its claws against a stone, listening to the sound.

  Another mimicked it.

  Gardevoir stayed still, floating just above the water. Breloom crouched beside Al, ready but not tense.

  They waited.

  Then one of the Sableye stepped forward, extended a hand toward the spring, and dropped a single shard of crystal into it. The ripple expanded slowly—then faded.

  And the Sableye turned and disappeared, the others following.

  (break)

  They didn’t speak much after that.

  The cave guided them further downward, where the rock began to shift—less jagged now, more worn. Fossils embedded in the walls. The ceiling opened slightly again, and veins of iron glinted faintly where water had carved channels through the surface.

  Al paused, kneeling beside one of the channels. He traced a finger through the dirt and found something unexpected.

  Claw marks.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Not recent—but not old.

  Breloom joined him, crouched beside the scrape, sniffing the air.

  He didn’t growl. But his posture stiffened slightly.

  “Not wild,” Al muttered. “Not feral either. Something watched this space.”

  Gardevoir touched the wall with one hand and closed her eyes.

  Her field pulsed briefly outward.

  Then she opened them again and gave the smallest shake of her head.

  Gone now.

  Whoever it was.

  (break)

  They found a narrow alcove beneath an overhang later, just wide enough for the three of them to rest. Al sat with his back to the wall, one leg folded, his pack between his knees. Gardevoir took the left, Breloom the right.

  The spring was behind them now, the tunnel ahead still silent.

  He pulled out a wrapped ration and split it—offering half to Breloom, who took it without question, and placing the rest beside him. Gardevoir didn’t eat, but sat with her hands folded in her lap.

  Al spoke softly.

  “You were good back there.”

  Breloom gave a nonverbal snort—of course.

  Gardevoir gave him a side glance and a faint smile.

  “I mean it,” Al added. “You both adapted. No panic. No aggression. You read the cave.”

  He leaned his head back against the stone.

  “This isn’t just a test. This is what it means to travel in this world. No Vehicles. No referee. No safe zone.”

  They sat in silence for a while.

  Then Al looked up at the ceiling and said, “I want to build more than a team. I want to build something that moves like this. Quiet. Precise. Dangerous without showing teeth.”

  Breloom nodded slowly.

  Gardevoir tilted her head, thoughtful.

  Then she whispered something only he could hear.

  “We already are.”

  (break)

  The darkness inside Union Cave shifted subtly as the hours passed. Though the sun above the mountains never touched this depth, the subtle pressure of time still moved. Water dripped in new places. The echo changed tones. Al felt it all, not in his skin but in his breath, in the rhythm of his team as they walked beside him.

  Gardevoir floated a meter to his left, her field still pulled close and quiet. Breloom led by three paces, stepping over slick stone and ducking beneath low arches with instinctual ease. Their pace was unhurried, not because they were slow, but because they moved with full awareness. Every footfall, every pause, was measured.

  They passed old battle scars in the cave wall—blackened patches from stray fire, gouges in stone where claws had raked deep. Al stopped to touch one with gloved fingers, considering its depth.

  “Recent,” he murmured.

  Breloom glanced back, eyes narrowing. Gardevoir didn’t move but tilted her head as if listening to echoes left behind.

  “Not wild. Too deliberate.”

  (break)

  A turn in the tunnel revealed another chamber, larger than the others they’d passed—oval in shape, with a gently sloped basin at its center. The ceiling soared higher than expected, and beams of soft light filtered through a crack high above, illuminating an underground spring that burbled gently in a clear, shallow pool.

  It was beautiful.

  Al stopped at the edge, taking in the sight—the moss creeping up the stone like painted strokes, the glimmer of silver fish darting between rocks, the faint blue glow of natural crystals near the far end of the pool.

  And then, just beyond the spring, he saw the figure.

  A person. Seated on a stone with their back mostly turned, one leg dangling near the water. They wore a dark traveling cloak, thick boots, and a hat that covered most of their hair. A satchel rested beside them. They hadn’t moved.

  Breloom tensed subtly, but Al gave a short wave—stand down.

  He stepped forward with Gardevoir silently trailing.

  The figure didn’t react until Al was within twenty feet.

  Then they turned, slowly, and lifted the brim of their hat.

  It was a woman. Older than Al by a few years, with sharp, weather-worn features and tired, intelligent eyes.

  She blinked once. Then offered a calm, if slightly wary, nod.

  “Didn’t expect company down here,” she said, voice quiet but strong. “Most turn back before the spring.”

  Al returned the nod. “We’re passing through.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking to Gardevoir and Breloom.

  “Deliberate types, then.”

  She gestured to a low stone across from her.

  “Sit, if you like. I’ve got time, and the water’s good.”

  (break)

  Al didn’t speak right away as he crossed the chamber and lowered himself to the rock. Gardevoir remained beside him, hovering silently, and Breloom took a position near the pool’s edge, crouched and watchful.

  The woman poured water from a small container into a cup and handed it over without ceremony.

  “Name’s Maren. From Ecruteak. I make my way slow. Usually alone.”

  Al accepted the drink, nodded. “Al.”

  She glanced at his team again. “They don’t talk much.”

  “They don’t have to.”

  A small smile touched her lips.

  “I’ve seen that before. Quiet trainers. They always end up being the ones people remember.”

  He said nothing.

  She sipped from her own cup, then looked into the water.

  “This place is older than most routes above it. Locals don’t chart it, but the League used to. Back before they consolidated Johto’s northern border.”

  Al raised an eyebrow. “You study history?”

  “I live in it,” she said. “Walk far enough, you stop seeing time as straight. Feels more like a loop. You ever get that?”

  He thought about that.

  About how he’d been dropped here, fully formed in a world that shouldn’t exist.

  “…Sometimes,” he admitted.

  Maren studied him again.

  Then smiled, softer this time. “You’re not League.”

  He didn’t confirm or deny it.

  “But you and your team move like those who've fought more battles than he’s talked about.”

  She set the cup down beside her and leaned back.

  “Not going to ask why. I don’t really care. But I will say—it’s good to see someone teaching their team trust.”

  She looked pointedly at Gardevoir, who met her gaze without blinking.

  “That one would kill for you.”

  Al’s eyes narrowed, not in warning—but in calculation.

  “She’d die for me,” he said quietly. “There’s a difference.”

  Maren let out a short, dry laugh.

  “Damn right there is.”

  (break)

  They sat for a while in mutual silence.

  Breloom wandered a little, dipping his hands into the pool, curious about the fish. One of them darted close—he froze, watching. Gardevoir floated lower, almost skimming the surface. Her reflection rippled slightly, like water wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.

  Maren eventually stirred again.

  “You going through or staying a while?”

  “Through,” Al said. “We’re keeping quiet. Out of sight.”

  “Smart. There’s a group about half a day behind me. Loud. Arrogant. Probably chasing a badge, not knowing what they’re heading toward.”

  Al didn’t flinch. “I’ll let them pass.”

  “You’ll pass them,” she muttered, not unkindly.

  Then her gaze turned more curious. “Where are you going, really?”

  Al didn’t answer.

  Maren leaned back with a shrug.

  “Well. Doesn’t matter. You’ll end up in the right place anyway. You’ve got that kind of… gravity.”

  She stood, dusted off her cloak.

  “I’m heading back the long way. There’s a root tunnel that connects to the old Ruins path. More peaceful.”

  Al stood as well. Gardevoir rose without a sound.

  Breloom returned to his side, eyes still sharp but relaxed.

  Maren adjusted her satchel and offered a final glance over the group.

  “If you ever make it to Ecruteak, visit the outer shrine. Look for the stones with no names. You’ll understand.”

  Then she walked into the dark without another word.

  (break)

  Al watched her disappear.

  Didn’t speak for a long while.

  Then finally, softly:

  “She was strong.”

  Gardevoir nodded once.

  Breloom didn’t comment, just began hopping forward again.

  Al followed.

  They passed through the spring chamber and into the tunnels beyond.

  The air cooled again. The echoes returned.

  But somehow, it all felt… quieter.