LIOR

"Happy birthday, my dear."

Lior pushed back, banding a tail of seaweed rope around his wrist as he allowed their tent to float gently to the ground. Lady Tirza was behind him, and she held something shiny in her hands. He frowned.

"It's not my birthday," he said.

Her face fell a little, and guilt flashed through him — his voice had come out blunt and unkind. Unintentionally — generally when he spoke these days, it was loud so that people could hear him, and clipped, using as few words as possible to communicate. He cleared his throat and tried again, a little more gently: "I mean, I don't think it's my birthday."

"One night you told me that you were born at the tail end of autumn," she reminded him. "Right when the water was just starting to get nippy, even at noon." She gestured airily with a hand, encompassing the shadowy seabottom. "Do you not taste ice on the current?"

It was true; now that he took a moment to notice, the water was edgy with cold this morning. But was this due to a seasonal change, or was it because they had entered polar waters? He remembered hearing a few soldiers mention snow on the surface last week, and three days ago the army had marched beneath something giant and dark floating on the water — an iceberg, Jabez had called it at dinner, an enormous, floating piece of ice.

He wished he'd paid more attention. His work was getting easier at a painful but progressive crawl, but even so, he barely had a moment's breath to stand still and think most of the time.

"I guess it could be my birthday," he said.

That brought a bright smile out of her. "Then it shall be. Happy birthday, sweet boy. Will you accept my gift?"

He crept closer to see what she had for him, and found...jewelry? Not quite — shiny, but not precious. They were pins, one gold, one silver, both with forked, with needle-sharp ends.

"Your hair is getting quite long," she told him as he accepted them. "A single braid may start getting in the way. I know several more suitable styles that will tie down that mane. I can show you how to fix them, if you like."

A touched smile came to his face, and it hurt — he'd had little occasion to grin lately. "Thank you, Lady Tirza." He put out his arms, and she embraced him in a warm hug, and kissed his forehead.

"Try to stay awake when you come back tonight," she told him. "I'll filch something tasty from the mess tent, and we can have a little celebration together, for your turning..." She cocked her head and peered down at him.

"Nine, I think."

"Oh my! Nearly a man grown. Before you know it, you'll be bigger than me."

"Thank you." His smile dissolved. "But..."

She waited for him to speak, but there was so...much. He swallowed, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears. Perhaps it was because, despite struggling against it, he could not help but remember his last birthday. How cruel was it that in between these two points in time so much had happened? When he'd turned eight — seven? He couldn't remember which it was — Mother and Father and Nightlight had been there. There'd been several gifts, a tastier meal, fun and games.

Now two of them were dead, and he was virtually alone among familiar strangers, and no one cared that he was turning nine. Certainly not Titus, or Enos, or even Adiah, who was a little friendlier than the rest. And the only one who had even bothered to think about getting him a gift was Lady Tirza. He squeezed the pins, feeling the ends prick his fingers, and his mind went to Nightlight. At his last birthday, his friend had brought him a colorful stone, one that turned sea green in the light and blue in the gloom.

"It won't be much of a celebration without Nightlight," he said lowly. He fervently wished that his friend was there, so that they could revel in the little pleasure of Lady Tirza's gift together. The Karpon squeezed his shoulders.

"Yes," she murmured.

"Is he... Still...?"

"Yes," she said firmly. She paused for a moment, as if debating whether to say more. Then: "He has it...hard, but he's a strong young man. He will serve the army well."

Lior stiffened, then pulled out of her arms. "I don't want him to serve the army well," he said, feeling those tears pressing against his eyes again. "He didn't ask for this, and he's my Pokémon! Why can't he stay with me?"

Lady Tirza's eyes darkened with sadness, but she didn't answer. And she didn't need to — Lior had already asked this question many times, and had shed many tears over it. And part of him didn't want to hear the answer again: You're a soldier, a single fin in an army of seven hundred. What's yours is theirs now, including your companions. Tirza had told him this, and it had gone down foul. Just like him, Titus and his soldiers planned to turn Nightlight into a fighting asset that would serve them on the battlefield.

What battlefield? He'd wanted to scream multiple times. All they did was march — wake, march, sleep, repeat. What enemies were out there for Nightlight to fight? For him to fight? He wanted to ask, but soldiers of his rank did not ask questions, and even if he did, would the answer matter? They wanted Nightlight, and they now had him. There was nothing he could do about it.

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. "You had better go," Lady Tirza said softly. "Are you doing tools today?"

He struggled to let his frustration go. "I don't know..."

"Well leave that and go see." She gave him a one-armed, one-sided hug. "Go and conquer, birthday boy. I'll be here to hear all about your day when you return tonight."

***

Commander Titus surprised him that morning by assigning him to Adiah. "He tells me that he is in the process of completing our first crossbow," he growled after inspecting Lior's garb. Every button was fastened and every loose end tucked into place, but he'd given Lior's long braid a displeased scowl — Lady's Tirza's gifts had been shrewd as well as thoughtful, it seemed. "He will need an extra hand with rope-weaving and fletching arrows."

Lior tried not to show his relief. Though still labor-intensive, working with Adiah wasn't nearly as draining as running errands for Enos with the other couriers. "Sir," he said.

Titus peered down at him, his eyes narrowing. In the shadows of his great pavilion, he looked far more menacing than usual, the lines in his weathered face becoming edged, more pronounced. Without preamble, he said, "In one month, you will join Cephas and the other squires in the corrals. Working with the Pokémon there will be a valuable experience, and will give you a taste of the coordination between soldier and Pokémon in battle."

Lior's throat dried. Cephas, the cruel beastmaster. That was where Nightlight was being...trained, where all the army's Pokémon trained, and where the poor squires broke their backs, as some of the soldiers joked. A shiver went down his spine, but whether it was joy or dreadful anticipation he did not know — both. He was going to see Nightlight again, soon.

Soon? An entire month... He bit his lip, his stomach turbulent. "Sir...?" he ventured. He bent the end of the word, making it a question.

Titus's eyes flashed to him, and his eyebrow went up dangerously. It had been quite a while since Lior had asked a question. After Nightlight had gotten frozen, it had taken another few days to beat the practice out of him. Luckily, the Commander seemed vaguely curious. "Speak, soldier."

Lior spoke, and saluted too, for good measure. "Sir, I would be happy to begin work with Cephas sooner. Today, if it please you sir."

"It would not." Lior flinched as Titus kicked closer. He did not hit Lior, but simply towered over him, making Lior withdraw in fear. "It would please me for you to do as you're told, and not imply that you would know better. I see that you are stronger, boy, and have grown nicely into our ways, but you haven't the endurance that Cephas asks of his underlings. But I expect that you will in thirty or so odd days. So curb your enthusiasm, and spare the corrals not another thought until I say otherwise. Dismissed."

"Sir." Dismayed, Lior saluted stiffly, and as he went to the door, Titus spoke again, making him freeze.

"And likewise do not spare your Pokémon another thought. You've survived this long without him, and he you. And I suspect you both will continue to do so."

Lior left, trying to bury his unease, and his sudden, pointed hatred. How did he know? He gritted his teeth. How could he not know? He knew about Cephas, the corrals — precious few would volunteer to work under that brute, without good reason.

Thoughts of the beastmaster sent worry winding down through his gut. He prayed a prayer he had invoked every day after leaving Titus's tent for the day's work: Arceus, please protect Nightlight today, and let him do well. Let it hurt a little less, and let him do a little better.

Adiah was already at work when Lior found him, on time — the terrain around the camp was less sand and more rock today, and he'd found a high perch above the fray, on a well-worn, wide rock formation a ways east of the vanguard. His supplies were laid out all around him, an assortment of hammers, scalpels, forks and tongs, whetstones and mallets, and in between building material: wood not yet close to rotting, twisted pieces of metal, scraps of plastic and rubber, and plenty of seaweed and kelp. He barely looked up when Lior saluted and presented himself for duty — he was peering down a rod of rusted iron with eye shut, muttering to himself.

"A bit long, but it'll do fine. Perhaps if I bend the ends, add a notch there, it'll make for a stiffer attachment... Blast me, what I wouldn't do for a seam of lava right now. Lava, Lior — a blacksmith's best friend, 'specially should he have scales. What's a bugger like me supposed'ta do without a lick of heat, Lior? Damn me, answer, Lior."

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know lot, anybody tell you that, ya little worm? Good fer nothin', that's what ya are. Can't hammer spearheads, and for certainly can't fix the shaft of a crossbow. Damn you, get on that kelp, maybe ya can do somethin' with that. I need four tail-lengths, four fibers each. Can ya do that Lior? Can ya?"

"Yes sir." Adiah continued to talk, some of it to himself, some of it to Lior, but he tuned him out and got to work. It was a bit of a ritual now where the ornery toolsmith was concerned — usually he was stacked with orders for new weapons or repairs, and he liked taking his frustration out on Lior. At first, Lior had been greatly upset by the draining tide of nitpicks and insults, but he eventually came to realize that the verbal abuse was more a facet of Adiah's personality than anything he had done to the toolsmith personally — he just liked to talk, and more than that, he liked someone to talk at.

And today he was talking about Titus — he generally did, and Lior once or twice wondered whether he'd ever gotten reported for it.

"Tree weeks," the toolsmith growled as Lior started braiding together rope out of the seaweed — slandered or not, this one was one thing he'd learned to do under Adiah, and quickly. His fingers were much more dexterous than the toolsmith's. "Tree weeks, he says! Well, better late'n never, but I've got a question, Lior. The hell are we gonna be doin' whens we get to wherever it be were gettin' to? Dere gonna be fightin'?  War? Do that little worm got me buildin' crossbows and spearheads fer nottin? Better not be, Lior, I swears it better not be. Didn't join that worm's little gang to go round the world in a damned circle. Better be somethin' there Lior, fer me to poke er skin, else I'mma know the reason why. You hearin' me, Lior?"

"Yes sir." He finished braiding one strand of rope and set it aside — and he was. Whenever Adiah brought up the...journey, he was always listening, probably because it was fascinating how little Adiah knew about it. How little anyone knew about it — soldiers stopped by to chat sometimes, on patrol, on errands, on break, and when they wandered to the topic of their destination, the silent consensus was that no one knew where the army was going exactly, save for Commander Titus and a few of his inner circle.

And Lady Tirza.

One soldier had referred to her as the "priestess wench", and had wondered with Adiah if she was pointing them in the right direction. That had stunned him: Lady Tirza knows where we're going? Not only that, but she was taking them there? He'd never gotten the impression that his friend was leading anyone anywhere — but then again, he'd never thought to ask. Titus had called her a guest, and he'd assumed that, like him, the army had picked her up along their journey, and had left it at that.

A month and a half ago, after an exhausting day, he'd returned to their abode and dredged up the energy to ask her about it.

"Yes," she'd confirmed, to his astonishment. "I am providing our fearless commander with some direction. You see, I owe him a debt, so I am taking him to my master."

"Lord Kygriss-Mari?" he'd asked. She'd smiled at that.

"You remember. Yes, the same. We discussed him at length after we first met, and he has a great desire to meet him."

The explanation had made little sense to Lior — Lady Tirza had established that Lord Kygriss-Mari was younger than him. What made the frightening leader of an army of seven hundred want to meet a child? Was it because Kygriss-Mari supposedly had status? And if Lady Tirza's lord was the ultimate destination...what was the point of the army? He'd asked, but she'd looked rather uncomfortable at his questions.

"I am sure that the Commander will speak to you on these things soon," she'd said evasively.

Since that day, Lior's curiosity of the entire affair had grown stronger, albeit beneath layers of exhaustion. It all went back to those angry questions he'd had after Commander Titus had seized Nighlight: he was being trained, and his Chinchou was being trained, but for what? Every day they marched, but they never encountered any enemies, unless you counted stray Pokémon hoping for an easy meal as enemies. That was because there were no enemies, no enemy states, no borders, no countries, like during the Era of the Kingdoms. The Cataclysm and the following Era of Bloody Water had taken care of that — Father had once told him that to merfolk, humans, and their trash and their nets, were the only foes to be faced these days, and they were a force that could not be beaten.

He gazed out over the camp, another finished stretch of rope in his hands — he saw soldiers, cooks, couriers, squires, captains, generals, advisors weaving in between the tents, tearing down their abodes in preparation for the march at midmorning. What is the point? Why was this army here, and why was it on its way to see a child younger than Lior...?

"...Lior? You lissnen, Lior?"

"Yes sir," Lior said bluntly. "I agree, sir."

"Ya better, ya little worm. Got my ropes ready? What's takin' ya so long? Got the shakes in those hands, ya little worm? I swears you was faster the last time the Command'a dumped ya on me."

Lior finished the ropes, and Adiah got him started on sharpening heads for a new set of spears. It was grueling work, even with the files — Lior's arms ached by the time he was finished, and he got no thanks from Adiah.

"Dem things couldn't poke open da head of a Tentacool," he growled when he gave them a cursory look. "And I'mma let em all know who ta thank when dey don't. Now get goin' — get 'em to General Jesh, and then get back. I might havva few other things for ya to poke at."

His voice was unkind, but Lior knew he was giving him a break — he hadn't specified exactly when he needed to get back. He could take his time. And suddenly, arms weighted down by the shafts of three new, makeshifts spears, Lior knew exactly how.

He had never actually been to the corrals — he'd never had cause — but he knew one of the squires by sight. His name was Camon, and like Titus, he was one of the few Kingmen to be found among the ranks of the army. Lior was constantly hearing whispers about him: apparently, word at Titus's dinner table was that he was an up-and-comer, sure to ascend and wrest the mantle from one of Titus's generals one of these days. The idea was putting General Carys on edge — whenever Lior so much as saw the two on the same side of the camp, there was fierce disdain for the squire on the female warrior's face.

Today, after Lior dropped the spears off at the armory unit in General Jeshuah's quadrant of the camp, he spotted Camon's bright orange tail weaving through the maze of tents. There was a huge parcel on his back, wrapped in cloth and banded shut by kelp rope — feed, Lior knew, picked up from the mess tent. Pokémon weren't of much use in battle if they were starving. Face pinched, he followed the squire, keeping back an unsuspecting distance.

What he found a few minutes later was not a...corral as much as it was a great space occupied by Pokémon. For sure there were stalls — makeshift ones, Lior suspected, ones that could be taken apart quickly and towed along during marches — separating the Pokémon into different living spaces, but there were no fences, no pens, no actual barriers — unless the Pokémon themselves counted as barriers. Five of them patrolled this great stretch of sand at the outskirts of the encampment, a Seaking, a Crawdaunt, a Milotic, a Starmie, and a Huntail, surrounding the space in a live perimeter.

Sitting high above them all, almost like a roof, was a giant Tentacruel, its tentacles bunched up beneath it.  Its eyes were a vicious red, and were rapidly scanning the seabottom, looking for trouble — they flicked Lior's way, and he felt himself stiffen. A line of troops passed by,  and he kicked backward, hiding himself behind the girth of a large tent.

There was much activity in the middle of the sandy space, behind the living wall of patrolling Pokémon. It was difficult to see from so far away, but it looked like they were all training, the Pokémon and the squires. There were a lot of them — Lior counted thirty from where he stood watching, and each was paired with a squire or a more experienced Pokémon, practicing battle moves.

But it was not as innocent as it sounded — the squires were armed with real weapons, and when the Pokémon attacked, they retaliated as though in true combat. Blood soured the water, and Lior felt his bowels knot in unease.

Is he hurt today?

The Milotic allowed Camon to pass into the space, and a deep, scratchy voice went up: "Break! Ten minutes, then back! Camon, put down the meat."

A moment later, a cloud of black sand went up as chaos erupted inside the ring. Lior bent forward, dismayed. What is happening? He looked left, looked right. Soldiers were moving past, carrying weapons, shields, hauls from scavenging and foraging runs. No one was looking at him, or for him. Still, he felt he might break out into some kind of underwater sweat as he kicked forward. I need to get closer... Is Nightlight in the middle of that?

That was a full-fledged brawl between the Pokémon, over food; as Lior ascended a rocky slope and hid behind a stand of seaweed, he found that Camon had deposited his parcel of feed — diced Magikarp meat, it looked like — and the Pokémon crowded around the pile, fighting for a scrap of flesh. It was horrifying to watch: a Remoraid sank its fangs into a Goldeen, dragging it away from a strip of meat. A Krabby dug its claws into the belly of a Lumineon when it tried to gulp down a mouthful; a Squirtle and a Corsola grappled furiously, and a Tentacool wrapped its stinging tentacles around a Horsea, feeding food into its mouth as its victim screamed in agony.

But worse than the bloodthirsty fight was the cold indifference of the handlers: the squires milled behind the bloodbath with faces of stone, and the biggest of them, a hulking brute of a Jeager with a long beard and a longer braid, watched with a sick kind of fascination, even chuckling as that Krabby sliced the fin off of the Lumineon. Cephas. In one month, he was going to work for this cruel merman, one who liked to watch hungry Pokémon draw blood over food. What a horrific day that was going to be.

Lior's eyes went back to the brawl. Nightlight... Where was Nightlight? There was so much sand that it was a struggle to make any one Pokémon out at one time.

But then... There! The furious crackle of electricity — Lior saw sparks and followed them to their source, and saw Nightlight being pounded into the sand by a Seel. There was a small, dirty ball of red meat not two paces before the Chinchou, and he struggled under the weight of the heavier Pokémon, trying to reach it. He was covered in red scratches, and his bottom lip was torn down the middle, yet he moved with a stunning ferocity that Lior had never seen in his laid-back friend.

Another blast of electricity, and Nightlight managed to knock the Seel off of him. But the foe spun in a wide loop and came back down on Nightlight's back, squashing him back into the silt. Then, with a triumphant cry, it gave the Chinchou a fierce bite.

Lior and Nightlight screamed at the same time — the Chinchou kicked fecklessly, in agony, and the Seel leaned forward and scooped up the meat in one mouthful. Flailing madly, Nightlight pulled free and dragged himself away, crawling across the stones to hide, quivering, in the shadow of a large stone a ways from the madness. Blood pulsed up from his body in a cloud.

Without thinking, Lior started down the slope, only to freeze as the shadow of the Seaking approached, sweeping across the sand. He backed up, ducking back into the seaweed until the Pokémon passed by. He noticed there was a small cleft further down the slope, one that was dark and shadowy and roughly Lior-sized. As soon as the Seaking was out of sight, he bolted down into the shallow crack, tensing as the Milotic made a pass overhead. But he almost didn't care if he was caught — peeking out of the cleft, he saw that Nightlight was only a few tail-lengths away. He leaned out of his hiding place as far as he dared and hissed. "Nightlight!"

Groggily, the Chinchou looked up. His pain seemed to evaporate when he saw Lior — eyes rounding, he dug in his fins and made his way across the sand, closer. Lior ducked back, shook his head.

"Stop!" he hissed, and the Chinchou froze, looking hurt. But Lior didn't want them to be discovered, and a wicked part of him didn't want to see his friend up close — even seeing him from five yards away made his heart hurt. Nightlight was bloody and beaten, worse than Lior had expected, and he'd expected for him to be in bad shape: Tirza Mari had been the first one to spot the Chinchou after Commander Titus had frozen him three months ago. Cephas had put him in a mock battle with two seasoned fighting Pokémon, but there had been nothing "mock" about it. Lior could see that now: under his friend's fresh wounds, there were old, ugly scars, trenches and pockets from bites and scratches. One of his eyes was glassy, like cracked rock, and one antenna was kinked at a painful angle, its bulb dim while the other glowed.

It's not fair. Lior wanted so badly to weep in that moment, or to scream. What had Nightlight done to deserve this cruelty? To have to fight squires with real weapons, and fight his fellow Pokémon for a scrap of food?

But what could he do about it? Titus's Army had seized his friend — Lior no longer had any claim to him. He had no power to save or damn him, not anymore. He was as helpless as Nightlight.

But the Chinchou didn't seem to believe that — the joy slowly drained from his eyes as he crawled a little closer, to be replaced by terrified, shadows. Help me.

How? Lior wanted to screech. What can I do, Nightlight? They own me. They own you. What can I do? What can I do?

A boom of a cry: "Lunch is over! Back to work!"

Lior stiffened, drew back — Nightlight scrambled closer, his face desperate. Help me, Lior. Please.

Tears welled at his eyes, and were sucked away by the ocean — he nodded, and not just for Nightlight's sake. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. "Tonight," he told his friend. "I'll come, and you'll sneak away. Flash your light. I'll find you."

Then he went, and left Nightlight to his hell.

***

Lior's sleep was turbulent, fleeting. He awoke two hours till dawn, every muscle coiled, strained to the max. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't know how he was going to do it. And he was scared. What if I get caught?

He imagined the Seel sinking its teeth into Nightlight, and some of his fear subsided.

He rose and dressed carefully, but Lady Tirza missed nothing. "What is it?" she asked when he finished tying off his tail wrap.

"I need to make water," he said with practiced smoothness. She seemed to relax. Yawning, she lay back down on their sleeping mat.

"Don't be long," she murmured. Quickly, she was back asleep.

Lior went to the door and paused, picking up a small parcel by the door. True to her word, Lady Tirza had acquired two fishcakes from the mess tent the previous night, but when Lior had returned, he'd been too upset to celebrate, so she'd set his aside for a late night snack later today. He tucked it into one of his tail pockets and was off.

It was supremely dark out — yesterday's march had seen them to a giant kelp forest at the end, the perfect cover for an army of this size. For a while, Lior struggled to find his way through the waving stalks, the cloying darkness — memories of the feverish Hell Dream rose up inside, only to fade when the barest hint of light touched down from above, coloring the kelp gray and teal. He ran his hand along one, feeling his way up out of the top of the forest.

Beyond were a range of hills, the largest of which rose up before the forest. Sheltered in its shadowy valley were the corrals. In the weak moonlight from the surface, Lior could make out the Pokémon resting in their crude stalls, their wounds red and ugly in the soft light. A few tents stood nearby, probably where Cephas and his squires slept. The guardian Pokémon also slept, all but a few — the Milotic ranged over a nearby hill, and the Starmie swam in circles beneath the Tentacruel, who was also awake, and watching. Lior ducked down in the shadows near the edge of the kelp, away from his hard red eyes. His tail touched sand, and he waited, heart pounding.

Thirty minutes later, he saw a light coming from far away, small and almost unnoticeable in the white glow of the moonlight. Nightlight?

Keeping an eye on the patrol Pokémon, Lior skulked along the kelp stalks, keeping to the shadows that took him over one hill and down another. Only when he was certain that he was out of sight of Cephas's Pokémon did he cut out into open seabottom, keeping low to the sand and moving as fast as he could. He tracked the light, and as he got closer, he found that it was indeed his friend — the Chinchou looked exhausted but wired, his eyes wild with anxiety as Lior came up.

Lior didn't stop when he reached the Chinchou — he scooped him up with one hand and then took off like a rocket, tearing across the sand. Where he was going, he didn't know — away. Far enough away that they didn't have to look over their shoulders or keep their voices down.

He ran until his tailfin burned with strain — when he finally stopped, they were at the top of another hill, this one emptying into a dark seabottom riddled with trash and other human debris, an entire minefield of it. It reminded him of a dumping ground Father had taken him to a couple of years ago during a scavenging trip. The nostalgia of it brought tears to his eyes, and he hugged Nightlight close. The Chinchou hugged him back fiercely.

"I'm so glad to see you," Lior rasped, his words choked. "Good job sneaking away — that couldn't have been easy."

The Chinchou began chittering, but Lior interrupted him, shoving his fishcake into his friend's face. "Eat this," he said. Nightlight's eyes widened in amazement, and he lunged for the cake, almost as if he thought Lior was going to snatch it away at the last moment — with a pang of sadness and rage, Lior realized that must have happened under Cephas's hand more than once. Quickly, the Chinchou was done, and he gave Lior another grateful hug. Lior hugged him back and stared around across the trash-ridden seascape. He saw the black bowel of a ship approaching in the distance, and remembered the one from the storm, the one with the oil.

He had been unable to save his parents then. He would not their fate befall his friend.

"Nightlight," he said, voice breaking. "You have to go. Now."

The Chinchou pushed back, staring up at him in astonishment, and, struggling, Lior said, "I want you to escape while everyone else is sleeping, while no one is looking. Start swimming, and get as far away from here as you can." He grasped his friend, released him in the open water. "Don't come back."

Nightlight scrambled down and grasped the front of Lior's tunic, his eyes shiny with anguish. Lior shook his head and tried to pull away. "I'll be fine," he insisted. "I will. But I don't want you to get hurt anymore, Nightlight. I want to you to go away and be free and live, like you were before you met me. So please—"

He was cut off as Nightlight buried his face in Lior's clothes, squeaking angrily. Agonized, Lior tore him away, and hissed when the Chinchou shocked him. "Stop it!" he snapped. "Why are we fighting? Didn't you want me to help you? This might be your only chance! Or do you want to go back to working with Cephas? Do you want to keep going hungry? Do you want to keep fighting other Pokémon every day, always hurting and bleeding when you go to sleep?"

Now Nightlight tore at Lior's collar, his eyes fierce with rage. Another shock, and with it came a bolt of clarity: Nightlight had snuck away from the corrals all by himself. He could have done the same yesterday, before Lior had gone to see him. He could have done the same days, months ago, but he hadn't. He was here, still here, by choice.

Why? Because of Lior?

Yes — the answer was in the Chinchou's eyes, clear as day. That's why he was fighting now — if he left and Lior was still there, what was the point? Lior felt a terrible heartsickness come over him.

"Please, Nightlight," he begged, sinking towards the ground; one hand still held onto one of his friend's fins, and the other grasped sand. "I-I... I've already lost Mother and Father. You're the only one I have left. I..." Tears, invisible and burning hot. "I need to know that you're safe. I need you to be happy, and healthy, and far away. I can't have you here, and know that every day you're getting beat up, starved, tortured by Cephas. Do you know what that does to me?"

Nightlight went down — there was a deep sadness in his eyes, but all the same he buried himself against Lior's side, and he knew that the Chinchou was not going anywhere without him.

Lior didn't know whether to cry or scream at that.

Then there was a scream. Not his.

A shadow passed overhead — the ship. Like a thief in the night, it had slunk across the surface, its approach dulled by the churning current. Something spanned out beneath it, billowing like a skirt, glowing in the beams of moonlight: a net, a huge one, the biggest that Lior had ever seen in his life. Its gut dragged across the seafloor, plowing through the sand and garbage like the fingers of a giant, and sending up an enormous cloud of silt in its wake. The sound was deafening...but not more piercing than the scream that came from inside.

"Oh Arceus, help! Help! Someone, please! Help me!"

Lior squeezed Nightlight, his eyes widening. His ears had not deceived him, and neither had his eyes: the net entered a stronger ray of moonlight, and he saw a merperson inside the giant net, clutching the mesh as his back was battered by a tornado of stinging sand and filth. The person saw him too — his screams entered the highest registers of high Pitch when he spotted Lior at the top of the hill.

"Help!" he screeched. Something cracked him on the side of the head, and he slumped and disappeared in the vortex of swirling garbage.

Nightlight jerked out of Lior's arms and paddled a ways forward at a maddening crawl. He spun around, gave Lior an expectant squeak, and Lior blinked, coming out of his shocked daze; grabbing Nightlight, he headed down the slope, his heart hammering in his chest. Soon, the sound of the plowing net drowned it out, and he cringed back as the cloud of disturbed sand billowed up towards him, stinging his lungs. Coughing, he kicked down underneath, trying to sidle up to the place where they'd last seen the merman. Nightlight's one working lantern helped—the Chinchou cried out and pointed, and Lior saw that the merman's hands were still clinging desperately to the mesh of the net.

"Hello?" he shouted, pulling his voice from his belly.

The merman struggled, and eventually his face came back into view in the darkness. His was young, and his eyes were black and beady with terror. His face was covered with blood and welts. "Please!" he begged. "Get me out of here, I beg of you!"

Lior looked at the mesh of the net, struggling to concentrate as it was pulled farther across the seafloor. He reached out to give it an experimental pull, and then hissed — the mesh was sharp! Razor-edged — the tips of two of his fingers bled, and he stared at the merman wondering how he was managing to hold on.

Nightlight went out of his arms again, his body pulsing with sudden electricity. Lior made to back up, but instead of a wild discharge, the electricity lashed out in a thick whip, almost like a blade. Where did he learn that? Cephas? It didn't matter — it didn't work. The metallic net send the electricity out across the mesh in a wave, and the merman screamed as it pulsed through his body: "Ugh!"

"Nightlight, stop!" The Chinchou obeyed, clinging to the side of the net, and Lior's mind raced. The mesh was sharp, and would not yield to electricity. A knife maybe? He had none on him. He looked back. The opposing end of the net was open to the ocean, but standing between it and the merman was a maelstrom of shrapnel and sand. Should he attempt to plunge through, he would be bludgeoned to death or be made into mincemeat.

I have to go back. It was the only option: he had to run to camp or help. This was a job for a platoon of soldiers, not just one boy. They'll help, won't they? Of course they would—they'd rescued him.

But what would they — what would Titus — say about him being out early in the morning, with Nightlight? That doesn't matter! A merman's life was on the line. He kicked back, and the merman's face became manic with desperation.

"What are you doing?" he roared. "Don't leave me, please!"

"I won't!" Lior said over the din of the net. "I'm going to get help! I'll be right back, I promise! Nightlight! Stay here with him — keep your light on so we can see you!"

The Chinchou's face went hard with determination, and the light in his one bulb strengthened. Then, giving the merman an apologetic look, Lior kicked back and blasted off, fighting through the net's wake and back into stiller waters. His breath sawed in and out of his body as he tore across the ocean floor, one lightening as dawn approached on the surface. He didn't know how long it took for him to reach the kelp forest, but suddenly he was there, and he plunged in, shouting:

"Wake up! Wake up! Please, I need help! A merman's been caught by a net! Please wake up!"

For the first time, he was grateful that he was living with an army, because the response was immediate: bodies emerged from the darkness of the kelp, bodies armed with spears and shields, looking around, searching for threats. Lior spotted General Jeshuah nearby and went down; the merman's face was edged with a mix of irritation and paranoia.

"What's happening, boy?" he snapped — he was fixing a red breastplate to his chest as he spoke, tucking in the straps. "Are you the one yelling?"

"There's a merman caught in a net over there," Lior said, hurriedly saluting. "He can't get out, and needs help."

General Jesh narrowed his eyes at Lior, and for a moment, Lior worried that he would have to take a precious minute to convince them of his word. But then he said, "Can you show us where?"

"Yessir!"

"Do so." General Jesh turned to his men, who'd begun gathering behind him, looking slightly frazzled, and pointed to one. "You. Take word of this to the Commander. We may have need of his strength."

Strength? Lior didn't ask, just set off at General Jesh's command and led the group of rallied soldiers back across the seafloor. The landscape looked different in the growing light, and for a moment Lior feared that he would forget his way back to the boat.

But then he saw the sand cloud — dark and monstrous, it was impossible to miss from a distance. The soldiers quickly overtook him at the sight, and so he was one of the last ones to arrive at the hillside — when he did, he came up beside General Jesh, and scanned the debris cloud for Nightlight. He thought he could see his light coming from the tail of the net, and pointed.

"Sir!" he shouted. "Do you see that light? My Pokémon is there, and so is the merman!"

General Jesh waved, and ten mermen went down with spears and shields. Lior made to follow, but Jesh barred him with an arm. "You stay here, boy. You're no use to anyone down there."

Lior looked up at him fearfully. "B-but—"

"Hush! They will recover your Pokémon after they assess the situation."

Lior had no choice but to obey, and mill anxiously at the top of the hill as the mermen disappeared into the dust cloud. A few minutes later, three emerged, and Lior was elated to see that one carried Nightlight in his hands. His Pokémon looked battered, covered with new scratches from the debris, but whole — Lior held him close as the soldier dropped him into his arms.

"Sir, that mesh is too thick," one soldier said loudly. "Won't yield to knife or spearhead. Do we have any pliers?"

Lior's heart pounded. "Adiah has pliers!" he blurted before General Jesh could answer. "I can go get them—"

"Don't waste your energy, boy. We have no need of pliers now that I am here."

Lior swung around to see Commander Titus coming across the sand, ahead of a giant glut of fully-armored soldiers. Lady Tirza drifted anxiously behind him, and when she spotted Lior she kicked over, engulfing him in a tight hug.

"Are you injured?" she asked.

He had no change to respond; Titus swept past them and snapped, "Step back. Jesh, recall your troops until the ship is under."

Until the ship is under? Lior watched as Jesh's soldiers came back up the hill and rallied behind Titus, who rose a tail-length or two above the sand and lifted his hands.

Lifted his hands. The sight did something to Lior, to his whole body. Seeing those palms rise to towards the surface brought back those terrible memories of his poisoning, of dying on that black pyre in hell. He remembered Titus lifting his hands above him, and feeling that agony, those knives deep inside as the Commander extracted the oil from his body.

Pain is coming.

Pain and chaos — the still sea suddenly began to stir as Titus opened his arms to the ocean. The easy current strengthened into a lashing tide in a matter of seconds, and the blue became mixed with white as the water churned itself into an abrupt froth. And cold, there was a sudden, deep cold, coming from seemingly nothing — Lior began to shake in Tirza Mari's arms as a maelstrom materialized before his very eyes, above Titus's dangerous palms, a vortex of dangerous, cold water.

Lior blinked, and he almost missed it.

The cold whirlpool somehow struck up, slamming into the bottom of the ship. One moment, it sat steadily on the surface waters, and the next it was turned under, decks, railings, masts and all, all shoved beneath the savage waves on a cloud of surf, until the crow's nest was pointing down to towards the seafloor. As it did, the storm ebbed. The net stilled, the dust cloud began to dissolve, and the debris settled. Up on the surface, Lior saw half a dozen pairs of legs appear in the water, kicking frantically.

Commander Titus lowered his hands and turned. His eyes ranged over the troops, and for a moment settled on Lior, hard and unreadable. "Go," he said.

Me? No, the troops — they spurred into action, spilling down across the hill, some towards the net, but most up for the surface, towards the thrashing legs.

And what Lior saw next... He had bad dreams about it afterward.

The soldiers grabbed at those kicking legs, seizing ankles, the heels of boots, pants legs, and yanked the humans beneath the waves. Some of them pulled them down, down, down, until they hit the seafloor, and pinned the humans by their necks in the sand and garbage, watching coldly as they kicked and screamed until the last of the air left their mouths in an eruption of bubbles. Others simply ended the humans where they floated — a knife to the throat, a spear to the chest. Red fogged the water, and some of it reached Lior's gills, tangy and coppery. He felt sick.

But he did not look away until Lady Tirza turned him to the side, pressed him to her chest. "Don't look, sweet boy."

"Why..." Lior's voice was dull and low with shock. "Why are they...?"

"This is what they do," Lady Tirza said with regret. "Don't think about it. Are you hurt?" she asked again.

"No..." Nightlight shook in his arms.

"Lady Tirza." Titus's voice — Lior turned to see him and two other soldiers approaching from behind. Suspended between them was the merman from the net, bloody but alive, and wheezing. Lior's heart squeezed in relief. He's all right! "This one looks to be in bad shape. Will you attend on him?"

"Of course." Lady Tirza patted Lior's shoulders and then went to the merman, slowly removing his hood. "Come, my dear, let's see what I can do for you..." She gasped — the merman's hood was down around his shoulders now, revealing a nearly-shaved head, save for a long, beaded braid going down one side of his face. He was young, too — younger than Lior had expected, maybe in his late teens. And clearly, Lady Tirza knew him: "Reuben?"

The merman looked up at his name, and came into pointed focus when he saw Lady Tirza's face. "Tirza!" With sudden energy, he threw his arms around her, sobbing. "You've come home!"

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