The Kingdra that returned was very different from the one I had met when I first woke up in this cave. Sure, they looked identical, but the presence they gave off was night and day compared to earlier. Gone was the domineering aura that made me feel like a possession. Instead, I felt a calm and comforting presence from the Pokémon—like I had on the beach where we met.

  So you can use your aura.

  A feminine voice spoke directly into my head. The voice itself wasn’t loud, but the background feedback that accompanied it felt like someone had thrown a stick of dynamite inside my skull.

  I instantly fell to my knees and threw up. There wasn’t much in my stomach, so what came up was mostly bile. I stayed on the ground, trying to breathe through the pain that showed no signs of dissipating. Every movement of my head made the thundering worse, so I ended up staring at the puddle of vomit for what felt like hours.

  In reality, it probably wasn’t hours, but my sense of time had stopped working. In fact, all my senses were pretty much gone. I no longer cared about the dragon before me, or about being stuck in a cave. Hell, I didn’t even care that I had died. My whole world was the ringing pain in my head—overwhelming and all-consuming.

  But pain isn’t constant. Eventually it dissipates, or maybe my body had simply adjusted to a new level of awful—I’m not sure. Slowly, I raised my head and moved into a sitting position, looking toward Kingdra.

  “Please don’t do that again,” I whispered.

  “Ki… Kingdra, king,” it said quietly.

  “Can we do the yes and no thing again? I have a lot of questions,” I asked. Kingdra nodded.

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  “Alright—my right hand for yes, and my left for no.” I held up each hand in turn.

  “So, my first question: are you the same Kingdra that was here when I woke up earlier?”

  A yes.

  Okay, so they are the same Pokémon. So why did they feel so hostile earlier? I wondered.

  “Are you keeping me prisoner here?” I hesitated to ask anything that might offend them, but I needed to understand my situation better.

  “Kingdra,” it said quickly, pointing at my left hand.

  Okay—so I’m not a prisoner. That’s… good, I guess.

  “Would you let me leave?”

  Kingdra paused before answering: yes.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  A quick no.

  I can leave, but they don’t want me to. I wish I could just ask what they do want, but I’m not ready for another mind-shattering headache.

  “Was it you who spoke in my head earlier?”

  Yes.

  “Did you know it was going to hurt me when you did that?”

  No.

  “Do you know why it hurt me?”

  Yes.

  This is going well, I thought. Kingdra didn’t expect its telepathy to hurt me, but it knows why it did. If I can work out the reason and find a way to mitigate it, communication will be much easier.

  “Is there a way you can speak to me without it hurting?”

  First a yes… then Kingdra turned and pointed to no as well.

  “That doesn’t make sense. How can it not hurt while also hurting?” I asked, confused. Thankfully, Kingdra didn’t elaborate with another telepathic burst, instead choosing to simply stare at me.

  “Right—sorry. It should only be yes and no questions. Will this method hurt more than it did previously?”

  No.

  Good—so it will hurt, but less than before.

  “Is it quick and easy to do?”

  Yes and no.

  “Uh… sorry. Is it quick?”

  No.

  “Easy?”

  Yes.

  So there is a way to make it not hurt. It’s easy, but it’ll take time.

  “Alright. Can you tell me what the method is? At this point, developing a clearer method of communication will be essential to moving forward in an effective manner,” I said, already gritting my teeth for the pain I knew was coming.

  I heard only one word before I blacked out:

  Practice.