Hwano, a tall mammalian creature known as a typhlosion, wearing crimson robes and a snow white cape that draped over his sloping shoulders, leaned forward in his chair and began to enunciate his words carefully, with a regal manner. "The way I see it, it's the best option." He turned his sloping face, with a snout, much like that of a honey badger, but longer, to face a plump frog-like creature, seated across from him at the mahogany table, his blood red eyes piercing into the light green amphibian. "What do you think Tei?"

Tei jumped, his short legs with three webbed toes each dangling from his velvet cushioned chair and his spiral patterned belly wobbled slightly with the motion. "Well..." he began, fidgeting slightly with his hands interlocking, the blue spiral that protruded from his head bobbing slightly as his large cocoa eyes bulged from his round face. "It might endanger the citizens, and they might blame you..." He flinched and quickly finished his reply: "But it's your decision."

Tei was not one to stand up to the king, who could quite easily turn and kill Tei from his throne-like seat at the opposite side of the table. The main reason why he was Hwano's adviser was not because of his qualifications, but rather his status as a Politoed, a rare creature, a form that was usually accompanied by wealth, and was one of the few species allowed to command much power in the royal abode.

Hwano pushed his chair backwards and pulled himself to his feet, gripping the back of his hardwood throne. "Go ahead with it," he commanded, looking away from his adviser and turning his attention to a pair of gigantic, heavy doors. The navy blue fur that coated his back and long pointed ear shimmered in the golden light that poured from ornamental windows around the hall, as though coated in diamond dust; the beige fur across his face glowed with divine light, accentuating his aged features. He marched towards the doors, with light but firm steps, passing a painting of their God, known most commonly as the 'Great One', or, as many historical texts refer to them, Arceus, with an ornate golden frame with delicate grooves engraved around the corners. The deity stood triumphantly, pointing at something outside the frame with one of its hoofed feet with a sliver of gold, like liquid sunlight adorning the tip, a ring of gold, like the sliver on its hoof, circled its abdomen, emerald crystals embedded in the rings, glinting in the glow. The backlit deity's blindingly white fur covered most of its body, aside from its grey striped underside, and metallic face. Its eyes consisted of green rings around ruby circles, and exuded power. A flowing mane of white and grey drifted from its head like a wisp of smoke, ending in a soft point.

Hwano gave the grand doors a tug on their bronze handles, pushing the musty air around them as they swivelled ajar. A shrew-like creature with blue and beige fur, like Hwano's, sat patiently as the doors opened, looking up to his father, his eyes filled with love and joy, an air of innocence surrounded him. His back sparked with gentle flames as his father approached him, gently wrapping his soft paws around the infant's chest and lifting him into the air. The flames on the child's back calmed and extinguished as he was held in Hwano's comforting grip. Hwano looked at his son and his eyes softened from their usual terrifying glare to a soft, warm, loving gaze.

The pair embraced in a gentle hug, with Hwano cradling his infant, who began to close his dark red eyes and relax against his father's arm. Hwano inspected the huge painting that covered the wall of the corridor with a sad familiarity. A slender typhlosion wearing a lavish purple dress and a simple, but gorgeous crown sat upright in a gently curving throne, her hands resting, linked softly by her palms and fingers, on her lap. Her long, thin ears pointed upwards with artistic elegance, and her resting eyes were closed on her calm face. She seemed at peace with the world, yet knowledgeable at the same time. Hwano's heart ached as he stared at her perfect features.

"She wouldn't like what you're doing now, Hwano," said Tei, watching Hwano with a mix of pity and respect. He regretted those words the instant they came out of his mouth, as Hwano's features morphed into a look of mournful rage. 

"That doesn't matter! She isn't here anymore!" shrieked Hwano, flames erupting from the base of his neck like a mane, startling his child. His cold eyes brimmed with tears and the flames died down as soon as they started. "Just do it," he spoke with a voice full of pain.

Tei raised his hands in fear, and stepped away from the monarch. "Yes, of course, sorry," he stuttered, and left the king alone with the infant in his arms settling down again, on the verge of sleep.

● ● ●

In the town of Wonmul, a zoroark lay limply on his hard bed, atop his thin duvet and rough pillow. He stared at the ceiling, his fox-like face, covered in fine but plentiful short grey fur, pointed vertically, as he silently debated with himself. A shabby faded orange scarf was wrapped around his shoulders, which had fluffy black fur surrounding them that then continued backwards in a V shape to the sides of his neck. His head lay on his long red hair, that pushed out in black spikes every so often from the loose red cluster. The hair spread out across his pillow, until a blue bead that brought it all together with a fluffy teardrop shape poking out of the end. The hair became black in a zigzagging line across it as it neared the bead, and then red again as it moved away from the blue orb.

He had an internal debate, conversations that would remain silent, and with good reason. '"All hail the King", ha! Why should I worship a king who doesn't care for his people?'

Thoughts pounded in his head, bouncing off the sides, as he gazed into space, his eyes unfocused. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, scrunching his eyes closed as he became stuck in the internal conflict. 'People are starving out there, they need help.'

He plunged his face into his hands, covering his eyes, claws lightly digging into his scalp. 'But I can barely afford to care for myself.'

His face contorted into misery and pain at the thought of not being able to help. Slight marks began to form on his skin from the pressure of his claws as he tensed his hands, hidden by his forest of fur.

His raging thoughts were interrupted by a loud explosion, the boom shaking the very foundations of his house. His eyes shot open, darting around, and widened dramatically.

Cracks were erupting across the walls and floor, spreading dangerously through the box-like structure. The inhabitant thrust himself across the room, leaping from his bed, forcing it into the wall as he pushed off. He reached the door just as the soft wood table with multiple drawers, that was lined up with the wall, shifted, two of the four legs dropping into the crumbling abyss below. A small lamp and hard bound book were thrown down, joining the rubble in the chasm , smashing against the rocks, shattering the bulb into fragments.

He yanked the door open, straining the hinges with the sudden force, a sonic boom shocking outwards. Stepping out into the dusty road, adrenaline rocketing through his veins, he took in the destruction around him, tears brimming up in his eyes, making them glitter like crystals, frozen with shock.

The road was in pieces, split by jagged slices through the concrete. Some of the cracks were now gaping crevasses, stretching up to about a metre in width. The houses that lined the streets fell victim to the rampaging fissures, crumbling, crashing, collapsing. The simple houses sagged sadly, shutters dangling or dropped from the walls they belonged to, roofs caved in as the walls they had relied on abandoned them.  

"Help!" the cry pierced through the zoroark's shock like a knife.

A rounded face of a sylveon sadly, yet hopefully, looked to the zoroark, her large, pink, fluffy ears poking up against the rubble of the house behind her head. A ribbon-like appendage wrapped around the back of her head and lay on one of her ears, while the others lay limply on the rocks, failing to support her body weight on their own. Held in her arms, a small eevee snuggled up to her. The eevee had short, milk chocolate fur on most of her body, which resembled that of a small dog, with the ears of a rabbit. The mane of cream fur around the eevee's neck was ruffled every time her body shook with sobs, nestled in her mother's arms. They were stuck in the doorway of a wrecked house. The door hung by one of its hinges, bent and cracked. The ground beneath the house was roughly sliced, leaving the walls to collapse as they had been shaken by the violent crack that had torn through the once safe structure. The rubble from the walls and roof had caved in, large chunks of rock and tile pushing against the sylveon.

The zoroark sprinted to the sylveon and eevee, ending with a slight skid on his knees right in front of the rubble. He raised his hands slightly, trying to hide his quick, panicked breaths. "Are you okay?" he said. In hindsight it was a stupid question, how could someone be 'okay' after being hit by a cascade of rocks?

The sylveon looked up to him with soft pink eyes, as the eevee backed up slightly from the stranger, round, deep brown eyes filled with worry. The sylveon took a deep breath and began to speak, pausing often to shakily breathe: "I was trying to escape...but...a rock, part of the rubble, it fell..." She broke eye contact with the zoroark, tightly closing her eyes, a pearly tear trickling down her face. "I can't move." The eevee buried her face into her mother's chest, delicate tears welling up in her eyes. 

It was then that the zoroark noticed a puddle of crimson spreading out across the rose fur on the back of the sylveon's neck, coming from under a particularly vicious looking fragment of rubble embedded slightly in her skin. He lowered his hands defeatedly, she didn't have long left, there was no way he could get her help quickly enough to save her life.

The sylveon opened her eyes, refusing to look directly at the zoroark or her child. "What's your name?"

He continued to look right at her, just avoiding eye contact, and replied simply: "Yeong." His voice was slightly hoarse from the strain of trying to keep his emotions from bubbling to the surface.  

The sylveon gave him a soft smile. "That's a nice name."

Her eyes hardened with determination as she continued to speak: "Yeong, please, take care of Lilac..." She took in a painful gulp of air. "Keep her safe, please."

The dam broke, tears gently dripped from Yeong's eyes. His voice cracked and shook. "But, how do you know that you can trust me?"

The sylveon looked him dead in the eyes. "Because you care about others," she said. 

Yeong wordlessly leaned over and carefully lifted Lilac from her mother's embrace, pulling her into his own, holding her gently against his chest. 

The sylveon looked up with her glassy eyes to the pair, her vision unfocused. "Thank you," she said, forcing what little air from her lungs as she could to say the words. "Take care."

Yeong gave a sombre nod as tears spilled down his pointed face, pulling Lilac into a hug of sadness as he turned to leave with the rest of the refugees. He didn't think he's be able to speak in that moment, emotions cascading through his being. 

Lilac's mother laid her head down on the remains of her house. She watched Yeong and Lilac trudge into the sunset lit streets with glazed over eyes one last time. Her breathing was laboured, and she just hoped that whatever the future held, her daughter was safe. She thought that she would have been more desperate to do something, anything, but a part of her was at peace, relaxed.

Yeong looked back, seeing Lilac's mother slumped over, still and lifeless, he pulled Lilac in closer to his chest. His breathing became ragged for a minute before he managed to even it out as not to alarm Lilac.

The silence was deafening to Yeong as he took heavy steps towards the edge of the town, passing cracked and wrecked homes, abandoned by their inhabitants. He wasn't sure whether the sylveon's smile was genuine, or if she had forced it to hide her sadness and fear, and it ate away at him everytime he glanced at Lilac. Could he have reduced the suffering of the mother and child? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a small quivering voice. "Why isn't Mummy coming too?"  

He scrunched his eyelids together to prevent the waterfall of tears that threatened to break through. Salty tears gathered in his eyes, and he tried to blink it away to no avail. Yeong chose to remain silent. A child's innocence should be preserved, as much as possible; even if she hated him for it, he couldn't bring himself to voice what happened. It was an open wound, one that hurt more the more he thought about it.

They left the town, the muffled sound of footsteps all around, as they walked down the same path from the town as the other inhabitants escaping with what they could. 

A pangoro led her infant pancham, linking her strong, worn hand gently with the delicate paw of the small panda, her jaw clamped around the bamboo spring in her mouth. A steenee walked alone, light steps causing her petals to lift in the air slightly, a small pouch slung over her shoulder with what little she could recover from her belongings, a chain of beads adorning the string looped around the mouth of the pouch. A darumaka gripped the straps of his backpack, pulling them a bit away from his round, cherry red body as he hastily walked a bit behind Yeong, his short legs pattering against the thoroughly damaged concrete, hopping over cracks.

The emotional wound had begun to scab over a bit, and Yeong decided to speak. "It's about a one and a half walk to the next town, we'll have to stop and rest when it gets dark."

Lilac stayed silent, laying in his arms with her head on her paws. Yeong honestly hadn't expected a response; she had a much larger emotional wound than he did, it would take longer to heal, and hurt a lot more.