"Every time we thought we found something on the internet, it crashed. Even when we tried books, nothing had the information we needed, and it just...disappeared when we got close to it", Trevor explained, tossing a pile of torn up paper to the side.

"Well whatever this 'thing' is", the Professor sighed, "We think it might have something to do with Ash..."

The entire room froze. Even Sycamore himself had a hard time dealing with his own words. There were whispers from those suited in orange, speaking of 'The boy we held captive', or 'The one Lysandre wanted'.

"What are you talking about?", Sawyer trembled.

"Come on, guys. I hate to say it, and it feels horrible even thinking about it. But this all started happening right after...you know. And now this thing is coming for Team Flare. It's only going for people he was involved with here. And I'm pretty sure it's nothing to do with a Pokemon"

"...Prove it"

"What?"

Sawyer stepped forward, clutching a Pokeball with shaking hands as tears formed in his eyes. He bit his lip, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Why don't we use our own Pokemon on it and see what happens?", he continued as his voice trembled, "Then we'll know if it really has something to do with Ash"

Sycamore's head dropped. Did they really have a choice? This 'thing' could be capable of much more than just hallucinations, and it was only a matter of time before it proved that. It was similar to the crisis with Team Flare. A life-threatening situation; they had to try anything.

"Alright. Let's do it"

One by one, they released their strongest Pokemon. This was a risk, and they couldn't chance losing all their Pokemon. They had to be careful with this 'thing'.

The Professor inhaled slowly, driving focus into his lungs.

"You know what you are!", he screamed as if he was summoning a demon, "Come out! Face us! Are you scared now that we have defenses?"

There was a wind hovering in the air, but apart from that, no significant response to their calls. Sycamore put a hand to his chin to think.

"If it's not going to approach our Pokemon, maybe..."

They were confused as to why he stopped until Clemont noticed him slip a key out of his pocket. His breath shortened. How low were they going to go?

"I know it's horrible, but we need to this for our safety", he threw they key at Clemont, "Bring his Pokemon"

The greenhouse hadn't been payed any visits since the boy's passing. His Pokemon had been secluded there. They only ever showed up to the funeral to grasp their last chance to see their trainer. Then, just as Serena did, they separated themselves from civilization to be alone with their pain.

Clemont's hands quivered as the key made it close to the lock. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He closed his eyes tightly, reminding himself how brave he needed to be for everyone, especially Ash, although he could be the cause of it. Serena and Bonnie placed a hand on either shoulder as he pulled himself together.

Pikachu flinched as it heard something click, followed by footsteps. No. It was too early into his period of grief to have company already.

"Pikachu?", it heard Bonnie's voice, "Remember when I kept telling you to eat, and you didn't want to?"

It stayed quiet, but listened to her.

"I kept telling you that Ash would like you to eat. You wanna do something for him, don't you?"

It's ears perked up at the suggestion. It knew the girl couldn't quite grasp the concept of death, and that her words came from a childlike view that, somehow, there was a way back to its trainer. But what if it wasn't all nonsense?

"We need all your help!", Serena announced to the six Pokemon, "No one's talking to me anymore because they think I'm a liar! But I know Ash is here! You can see it too if you help me prove it!"

Minutes later, Clemont, Bonnie and Serena returned with five Pokeballs, and a Pikachu slouched onto the boy's shoulder. They stood tall against the increasingly vigorous wind, swallowing their fear.

"Show yourself! You're the one who's afraid now!"

The wind gathered itself to the front of the room, howling, its voice distorted. Their senses seemed to shake as the light caved in. They were being consumed by a nightmare. All they could do was stand, paralyzed. The world around them quaked, falling apart at the hands of an invisible monster. Darkness pierced through them as all was lost.

A restrained, bloodcurdling scream relentlessly echoed them into headaches as they found themselves lying on the ground. It was too silent. Too calm. And far, far too dark.

Blood covered their hands as well as the Pokemon who lay motionlessly on the cold, hard floor. The same red liquid spilled from inside their Pokeballs. It was so cold that it felt like warmth to them, jabbing at their skin. It was slightly welcoming, but not so friendly. Anything but home. They were unable to speak, only move, although their senses were constantly numb.

Those in orange sat as if they were statues, though the rest of them made an effort to make sense of their surroundings.

As Professor Sycamore found his ability to sit up, a single, scrappy piece of paper floated slowly down, near enough so he could see it. Before he could take hold, it reached the ground and dissipated, as do drops of water in an ocean. Its contact with the surface sent a wave sprawling through the atmosphere, finally clearing their senses. Light came only to their eyes, but they felt cleansed. 

"This is definitely nothing to do with a Pokemon...", Sawyer mumbled to himself.

Words written in white faded into the sea-like floor. Silently compromising, the others moved out of the way, staying within the circle the orange-suited individuals had created, so that the Professor could read it.

"This page looks a little familiar", Sawyer recognized, "I think I saw it during research"

"It's...some sort of myth", the Professor studied the words, "Apparently this dates back to before any other history, but because people wanted to forget about it and there were events like wars going on, it was never recorded again except in sources that aren't visible to the public eye, and even this doesn't have much detail"

"What's it about?"

"There was once a child whose dream was to explore the whole world. Unfortunately, he died a brutal and tragic death at the age of ten. People believed he still traveled through forests and across seas, looking for vengeance for the cause of his death. They say his story repeated itself, and each time he would get back at those who killed him. Anyone who knew his story ended up being closed off from society in some sort of way, usually by death or going missing, so they couldn't retell it"

A book appeared in the middle of the room. The Professor was the only one brave enough to go near it, but kept his distance and kneeled down.

"There are pictures of him from so many different eras. Years dated BC all the way up to the twentieth century. And we're in...the twenty-first..."

"Let's see the pictures"

Clemont mustered up his courage and swiftly grabbed the book, bracing for any outcomes. When he knew it was safe, he closely studied the images. The child looked far too familiar. He knew at this point who it was. Everyone was able to put the pieces together. But that didn't mean he could face the fact that his dead friend was in fact a dangerous myth.

"The myth is called 'Liúlàng de háizi', otherwise known as 'Wandering Child'"

Clemont looked around at the Team Flare members. They all sat completely still, their eyes open but dull, and some of their mouths slightly open. 

"T-They haven't moved in a while...", Tierno stammered, backing away slowly.

"So then who's next?!", Shauna fretted.

Simultaneously, they all recognized the male sitting in front of them.