ONE:


TO EXPLAIN THE UNEXPLAINABLE . . .


1.

A boy sat in the middle of a wide open living room, his materials gathered and his mind ready. The room had dark burgundy hardwood flooring, and sported white walls. It was lacking windows, however, which gave it a naturally looming darkened feeling. It actually would have been otherwise been usable if it weren't abandoned, which fitted the need of said boy tonight. Tonight was the day just before Halloween, where the barrier to the Spirit World was loosened by the immense attention-paths that the humans gave to the holiday. He needed to act immediately, as he had been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time.

The aforementioned boy was none other than Ian Toler. Who or what he was known for is not important, but for the interest of the story, details should be thrown in; he was a teenager, around the age of seventeen, but he was far from normal. He lived in a small village on a very small and poor island, but managed to escape the crippling poverty through unorthodox means, living in the woods or by the shores. The townsfolk were really kind people, really, they were . . . but they were all hopelessly simple and comfortable in their seat of defeat. As the island had no leader, it was up to the people as a collective to create jobs and thrive, which (as anyone should imagine) was a next-to-impossible task.

He wore a black trench coat (his only outfit that was not tattered) that fit his lean frame snugly. Around his neck was a white scarf, and on his legs were black jeans. He wore thin tennis shoes that were unbreakable; they were a gift from the Spirit World. Concluding these details brings the story back to it's original point; Halloween.

Tonight, an ambassador from the Hoenn region was scheduled to come over to the island (whose name is Odyssey), and perform some kind of show. The details only got so far with gossip. Ian knew it was a trap, though. Hoenn probably wanted to expand it's territory; what better place to start than this island? He had to escape before then, because people didn't like him much as it was already. His 'witchcraft' would not be tolerated under a new law. Could he help that he had spirit friends, though?

With chalk he had been saving, he stood in the center of the room and had begun drawing an elaborate decoration there; a dodecagram. With a precise hand, he managed to craft perfectly straight vertexes, though to be honest he was guided by something else. The twelve-pointed star was nothing out of the ordinary, but Ian would soon change that. He moved around it and constructed a circle that encompassed it, and inscribed small Latin phrases around it, ranging from "liberalis dux ducis" to "manes animalis auditor" and many things between.

With that done, Ian sat in the middle of the star, taking care to light the red candles he'd needed in a precise order, clockwise from the northernmost. Afterward, he closed his eyes and crossed his legs, placing his hands on his lap. Thankfully, there were few offerings to be done. This was not typical summoning, as done by typical people. Ian actually had the ability to talk to spirits, he just needed to get them to speak back to him. Since they were so shy, he needed to perform the summoning ritual just like everyone else, but they tended to warm up to him quickly.

2.

Silence. The room was engulfed in silence rather quickly. There was no movement, there was no breathing, just silence. He needed to wait for them to enter his plane and activate his ritual before actually getting them to talk, so all that could be done was wait.

Again, for the benefit of the story, it would be interesting to have Ian do some self-reflection, but there was not much to talk about. Ian came from Heaven. Yes, literally. As generic as it sounds, it was more of a curse than a blessing. His parents, both angels themselves, were forced by Arceus to abandon him across the Earth, as they were giants who disobeyed Heaven's order, commonly known as the Redemptionaires. He was never supposed to take a human shape, but had to adapt as such due to his surroundings (he was dropped in a human village by his parents, since he could never re-enter Heaven). The village he was dropped in was coincidentally the village-island of Odyssey, and he spent most of his childhood working there. A very, very ill childhood, which was centered around working and forming relationships.

In schooling, he was top-notch. His non-human brain could pick up and understand things his human classmates could not. He had a college education in first grade. Eventually, he discovered the frivolous nature of schooling and thus decided to live in the wild. He would occasionally sneak into a shop and steal little items: chalk, a plank of wood, a geometrical globe. The biggest loot he'd plundered was a pocket novel about the occult, just to see what it was like. Poor, poor humans and their misunderstandings.

A shimmering began to occur upon the lines of the dodecagram, and Ian opened his eyes. It was about time! A spirit had contacted him, and since the barrier was so loose, the contact was quicker and took less focus and preparation. In a flash, he was suddenly surrounded in a polyhedron of energy, an octagonal prism of spiritual frequency. His eyes still closed, Ian attempted to see who it was that had decided to stop in for a chat. A Dragonite.

3.

"Welcome back," the boy said casually when the lights had dimmed down, and a floating presence greeted him on the opposite side of the room.

"So you're the one sending out those strong spirit signals! I knew it!," she (the Dragonite) exclaimed, floating around the room in a huff. "'Welcome back'! The nerve of humans! Oh, right... you're not human. Well, still!"

"Did you miss me?," Ian smiled, ignoring her outbursts.

"I guess," she sighed, sitting down on the hardwood. Her scales were a pale blue and her eyes blackened, her mouth fixated in a permanent leer. Though rather stereotypical of a ghost, it was still a pretty gruesome sight. There was no rotting on her, however, since she had been buried upon death, and had become holy with an anointed funeral. The rules of the Spirit World just worked that way. She had, however, received punishment (hence the eyes and the leer) for not being buried in the name of a religious figure. "What are you calling for now, anyway?"

"I need a ride out of this place," Ian answered with a long sigh, stepping out of the now-dull dodecagram and moving over to her. "Some Hoenn guy is coming over and he'll ban my ability."

"You know you're not allowed back into Heaven, right?" Ian had told her a lot about himself when he was cast away, since (as a child) he was more-or-less a pure energy being.

"I realize that, thank you," he replied sarcastically, "but I'm talking about on the Earth. Like, flying and stuff."

"OH! I can do that!" She bent over to allow him passage on her back, and Ian smiled in recognition. Passing through the Spirit World as a spirit was one of the most delightful instances of any being's life. It was like becoming a gust of wind, but having determined weight based on how strong of A) a spiritual connection you have there and B) whether or not you know where you're going. Ian, of course, had both factors in his favor. He floated up to her shoulders, and became crystallized in a translucent twilight fluorescent light immediately, contrasting her in her slate blue hue.

He mounted her as though riding a horse, growing larger to fit her proportions, and just like that, they were off. A spiritual wormhole opened in front of them, and Ian closed his eyes. Finally, he could leave. If he could get away, he could pursue help; his father once visited him in this manner and told him about others who weren't exactly human. If he could find them, perhaps he would have a chance to life a safer, more comfortable life.

"By the authority of Giratina, who does own the three-headed hound Her Highness' Houndoom, I pass through the Spirit World, with the assertion of safe passage. Should any creature, living or not living, attack myself or my guide, I do set it in place that they shall be smitten by the ruler of the dead, Queen of Woe, Giratina and suffer punishment by her dog Her Highness' Houndoom. I swear on my soul to not disturb any creature, living or not, lest I suffer the same consequence. So Mote It Be."

With the proper order in place, both creatures assumed a lighter form and vanished in a icosidodecahedron of energy. The dodecagram left behind floated upward into the air, peeling away and vanishing upon reaching a certain point. The candles burned themselves away as though they were ash in the wind, and the chalk melted into the hardwood flooring.


Ian Toler was on his way; he would one day earn true freedom.Chapter End Notes:Attempting to avoid the stereotypical 'occult is always bad and they murder people so now it's up to our hero to stop them/ contacting spirits causes death/ witty teenagers escape hopelessly underpowered adults and have wild rabid sex for no reason' trope, I crafted Ian here to be a bit two-sided. Hopefully this will become apparent later in the story, but it probably will get thrown into the 'fish out of water/ normal boy meets strange creature and goes on wild crazy adventure' trope