Story Notes:
Ok, before I get the ball rolling, I thought I would make this clear: This is not, and will never be, a "lemon". Don't even go there. So, following that, I give two warnings:1. The darkness comes.... I am a firm believer that it must get dark before things can get light. This comes through an awful lot in my fics.2. If you are looking for the cheesy plots and characters from the Anime, we shot those first. And then shot them again just to be safe.
Prologue
Prologue:
The old man slowly walked into the clearing, the thick underbrush giving way to short grass as he pushed through the last bushes. Standing in thecentre of the clearing was a stone shrine, half covered in moss. A deep sense of calm surrounded the place, as if it were some hallowed ground, or the site of an ancient and long forgotten temple. The few sun beams breaking through the tree cover formed columns of light, illuminating dust and butterflies in their descent to the forest floor.
The old man straitened, before letting out a long sigh, taking in the vista before him. This was not the first time he had visited this place, but it still affected him as it had when he had first caught sight of it, those many years ago. It had become a ritual for him to visit this clearing and the shrine contained within, and yet another year had passed, bringing him back here. The place was timeless: its appearance unmarred by the passage of time. It seemed now as it had always had; which was fitting.
As began to walk across the clearing, he noticed that the forest was very still, as if the native Pokémon revered this site. A small hint of a breeze rustled the leaves of the tall pines surrounding the glade, the noise sounding hushed, murmured even, as if the very trees held a deep respect for the place. Which is close to the truth, if you think about it , the man thought to himself.
The shrine at the centre of the clearing was simple: just a few cut stones placed together, forming a structure of sorts. The weather had already begun its work, the edges smoothed out by many years of wind and rain lashing it. Moss had climbed up over the central face, and this was where the old man stooped to look at.
Running one hand gently along the rock, he brushed the moss from it, revealing the words concealed beneath. The symbols had been carved into the rock: an intricate series of swirls and lines, which would be completely illegible to anyone but a small few. Fortunately for the man, he was one of those few who could read the ancient script.
With a sigh, the man stood up once more, the old words running through his mind. He had read them a thousand times; indeed, he had been there when they were first inscribed. They were simple words, just a few things thrown together in remembrance of someone, and yet: they were more. They helped serve as a reminder to what had happened all those long years ago. And though the passage of time sort to blur, to cover memories in its soft haze, as long as this place was here, he would never truly forget.
It was as he was thinking on this that a noise from behind altered him, which he slowly turned to look at. In the gloom of the forest, he could just make out the small form of some sort of creature. The most striking feature from what he could see were the eyes: the crystal blue depths seeming to contain wisdom beyond measure.
Sitting down on his haunches, the man beckoned slowly to the creature, trying not to startle it. "Come on out little one. Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He said softly, trying to make his voice as reassuring as possible.
As the creature slowly emerged, he got his first good look at it. It had a long slender body, covered in a dark brown fur. As it stepped into one of the beams of light, its head was illuminated. It had a small head, with long pointed ears. Its face wore an inquisitive look, as if it wasn't worried at all by the presence of a human, but was more curious as to what he was. The creature, known as a Furret, came to stop a few meters away from the man. There, it sat down, cocking its head to one side like a cat; regarding the man with a look of interest.
"Ahh, my inquisitive little friend, what brings you here?" He said, a calm smile on his face.
"What's written on that stone?" The creature replied, its voice high and light, the sound of a young creature.
With a small smile, the man turned around to regard the shrine once again, appearing undisturbed that a random Pokémon could speak fluent English.
"The stone? It bears an old inscription, written in an ancient language long since forgotten. In our language it reads:
"Actions are the seed of fate; deeds grow into destiny."
It loses quite a lot in the translation, but that is close to what it says."
The creature sat there for a while, as if it was pondering what it had just heard. It then looked at him again, and asked a simple "Why?" The answer of a child indeed.
"Why? Well, that is a long tale; too long for now."
"Ooh a story! I love stories!" The creature replied, showing great enthusiasm. It leapt to its feet, running over to the human, before lying down near his feet, its young face gazing eagerly up at him. "Is it a good story?"
"One of the best. But are you sure you want to hear it? It is long and dark, and not without moments of great pain." He replied, settling down to sit cross legged on the ground, his back leaning against the shrine.
"Yes!" It replied, without hesitation.
"Well then before I begin, let me ask you a question: what is in a name? I don't want you to answer, but to just think on that, for it is a part of the story to come."
The Furret stared at him, looking confused, which elected a chuckle from the man. Patting the ground beside him, the creature moved towards him, where he picked it up and placed it in his lap: running his fingers through its long fur as it settled in place. The creature finally stopped squirming, lying on its back to look up at the man above him. He began to gently rub its belly, and as the creature sighed in pleasure, he began his tale.
"This story takes place a long time ago: way back in what has become known as the age of darkness. The Great War had just been fought, and many deaths had arisen from that tragedy, though that is a story for another time. Off in the darkness, a single Pokémon begins to stir from its millennia long slumber; thoughts of unease running through its still sleep clogged mind, for it knew the world that it would return to. The world was not what it had once been, and he now felt alienated from it. There was one Pokémon still that he would have liked to see once again, but alas, she had become lost in the darkness that seemed to pervade everything that his senses could touch. So, he stirred in fretful sleep, as the time of his awakening was once more approaching. But this story is not about him, nor the one who was flitting uneasily through a darkened forest, trying her best to remain hidden, her thoughts as black as her surroundings. No: this story is about someone else altogether..."
The old man slowly walked into the clearing, the thick underbrush giving way to short grass as he pushed through the last bushes. Standing in thecentre of the clearing was a stone shrine, half covered in moss. A deep sense of calm surrounded the place, as if it were some hallowed ground, or the site of an ancient and long forgotten temple. The few sun beams breaking through the tree cover formed columns of light, illuminating dust and butterflies in their descent to the forest floor.
The old man straitened, before letting out a long sigh, taking in the vista before him. This was not the first time he had visited this place, but it still affected him as it had when he had first caught sight of it, those many years ago. It had become a ritual for him to visit this clearing and the shrine contained within, and yet another year had passed, bringing him back here. The place was timeless: its appearance unmarred by the passage of time. It seemed now as it had always had; which was fitting.
As began to walk across the clearing, he noticed that the forest was very still, as if the native Pokémon revered this site. A small hint of a breeze rustled the leaves of the tall pines surrounding the glade, the noise sounding hushed, murmured even, as if the very trees held a deep respect for the place. Which is close to the truth, if you think about it , the man thought to himself.
The shrine at the centre of the clearing was simple: just a few cut stones placed together, forming a structure of sorts. The weather had already begun its work, the edges smoothed out by many years of wind and rain lashing it. Moss had climbed up over the central face, and this was where the old man stooped to look at.
Running one hand gently along the rock, he brushed the moss from it, revealing the words concealed beneath. The symbols had been carved into the rock: an intricate series of swirls and lines, which would be completely illegible to anyone but a small few. Fortunately for the man, he was one of those few who could read the ancient script.
With a sigh, the man stood up once more, the old words running through his mind. He had read them a thousand times; indeed, he had been there when they were first inscribed. They were simple words, just a few things thrown together in remembrance of someone, and yet: they were more. They helped serve as a reminder to what had happened all those long years ago. And though the passage of time sort to blur, to cover memories in its soft haze, as long as this place was here, he would never truly forget.
It was as he was thinking on this that a noise from behind altered him, which he slowly turned to look at. In the gloom of the forest, he could just make out the small form of some sort of creature. The most striking feature from what he could see were the eyes: the crystal blue depths seeming to contain wisdom beyond measure.
Sitting down on his haunches, the man beckoned slowly to the creature, trying not to startle it. "Come on out little one. Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He said softly, trying to make his voice as reassuring as possible.
As the creature slowly emerged, he got his first good look at it. It had a long slender body, covered in a dark brown fur. As it stepped into one of the beams of light, its head was illuminated. It had a small head, with long pointed ears. Its face wore an inquisitive look, as if it wasn't worried at all by the presence of a human, but was more curious as to what he was. The creature, known as a Furret, came to stop a few meters away from the man. There, it sat down, cocking its head to one side like a cat; regarding the man with a look of interest.
"Ahh, my inquisitive little friend, what brings you here?" He said, a calm smile on his face.
"What's written on that stone?" The creature replied, its voice high and light, the sound of a young creature.
With a small smile, the man turned around to regard the shrine once again, appearing undisturbed that a random Pokémon could speak fluent English.
"The stone? It bears an old inscription, written in an ancient language long since forgotten. In our language it reads:
"Actions are the seed of fate; deeds grow into destiny."
It loses quite a lot in the translation, but that is close to what it says."
The creature sat there for a while, as if it was pondering what it had just heard. It then looked at him again, and asked a simple "Why?" The answer of a child indeed.
"Why? Well, that is a long tale; too long for now."
"Ooh a story! I love stories!" The creature replied, showing great enthusiasm. It leapt to its feet, running over to the human, before lying down near his feet, its young face gazing eagerly up at him. "Is it a good story?"
"One of the best. But are you sure you want to hear it? It is long and dark, and not without moments of great pain." He replied, settling down to sit cross legged on the ground, his back leaning against the shrine.
"Yes!" It replied, without hesitation.
"Well then before I begin, let me ask you a question: what is in a name? I don't want you to answer, but to just think on that, for it is a part of the story to come."
The Furret stared at him, looking confused, which elected a chuckle from the man. Patting the ground beside him, the creature moved towards him, where he picked it up and placed it in his lap: running his fingers through its long fur as it settled in place. The creature finally stopped squirming, lying on its back to look up at the man above him. He began to gently rub its belly, and as the creature sighed in pleasure, he began his tale.
"This story takes place a long time ago: way back in what has become known as the age of darkness. The Great War had just been fought, and many deaths had arisen from that tragedy, though that is a story for another time. Off in the darkness, a single Pokémon begins to stir from its millennia long slumber; thoughts of unease running through its still sleep clogged mind, for it knew the world that it would return to. The world was not what it had once been, and he now felt alienated from it. There was one Pokémon still that he would have liked to see once again, but alas, she had become lost in the darkness that seemed to pervade everything that his senses could touch. So, he stirred in fretful sleep, as the time of his awakening was once more approaching. But this story is not about him, nor the one who was flitting uneasily through a darkened forest, trying her best to remain hidden, her thoughts as black as her surroundings. No: this story is about someone else altogether..."