Categories > Games > Pokemon > The Last Piplup, Book 1: The Hier
Prologue
^The Festival^
Rain pounded against Dusk’s body, dampening her fur until it sagged with the moisture of the crying sky. Clouds swirled overhead, blocking out the full moon with a dark, hopeless gray. Lightning crashed and rolled in the distance, lighting up the grassy, damp trail for only a moment until the scene was plunged back into darkness.
As Dusk padded through the overcast path, thoughts tugged at the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake off the guilt of how she had failed to predict the storm. She hung her head, staring at the ground, her claws tightening into the earth. It was her responsibility, as the only Pokémon who could warn of incoming disasters, to tell the others of storms and fires and other natural calamities, but lately, she had failed to predict a single one. The Pokémon at the Festival were probably so disappointed in her.
It’s like I’ve lost my powers completely, she thought, her head lowering. What’s happened to them? I can sense a dark force through all this mist… Is that what’s causing the disappearance of my ability? Dusk had never felt this shadow before; all she could originally see was an impenetrable mist swirling in her vision. No matter how hard she tried to see through it, the fog seemed to thicken until she felt she was drowning in it. But now she could see it. A pair of gleaming eyes in the darkness, staring, staring, watching, watching. Never moving, but a deep, chilling feeling would course through her fur, a malevolent anger and hatred burning through her skin, running like a cold thunder through the fog, until it seemed to pierce her heart.
She would turn around randomly, sensing a presence so evil that she felt like someone was stalking her. But she would look, and nothing was there. She felt like she was being watched, even in her own home, where she was meant to feel safe. Secure. But that warm feeling vanished after her powers had disappeared. She felt like, at any moment, something would leap out at her and rip her apart. But nothing happened. She had never felt so terrified in her life.
The Festival was meant to be scheduled on a clear night during the full moon, to last from the afternoon to the break of dawn. The planners for the Festival had come to Dusk to check if the weather would be fine during their chosen date, and Dusk didn’t want to disappoint them. If she told them her powers had gone, they might start to panic, so she had told them it would be fine. The Festival planners must hate her now that the Festival was ruined. Shame tingled through her paws. She had failed everyone. No one even liked her in the first place, and now she felt she would never gain respect from the other Dark-type Pokémon.
She could now see her destination in the distance, a large overhang of leaves protecting the Pokémon from being showered down in the pouring rain. Their faces were grim, and she could feel the glares of hatred burning down on her fur as she ducked under the entrance to join them in their shelter.
She spotted the planners making their way towards her, maneuvering through the crowd of terrified Pokémon, their faces hardened with rage and hurt. One was a Watchog, the other a Lineoon. As they reached Dusk, they were out of breath, their fur drenched from the downpour.
“Dusk!” They spat out her name like bile, rotten on their tongue. “You liar! You told us the weather would be perfect! Does this fit your definition of perfect? It’s pouring down hard out there, and the rivers are starting to flood. And we’re all stuck under this stupid leaf-tarp, cowering in fear and confusion, all because of you! The Festival was supposed to be clear, and now we won’t be able to hold it this year! Arceus will not be pleased!” They took a sharp breath before continuing. “Go out! No one wants you here! Leave, and don’t come back!”
Dusk turned away, defiance sparkling in her eyes. They didn’t know half the story. And why should I tell them? she thought indignantly. They don’t deserve to know. She stalked away, her fur lifting along her spine in irritation. The ground was soggy under her paws, squelching, squeezing, and oozing between her pads. A thick layer of fierce water lapped against her paws as she walked along the shore of the stream. They were right, Dusk thought, shocked. It really is flooding. Her head whipped around, a shriek escaping her throat as she saw the shelter she had so recently left, water lapping up to the supports. The Pokémon under the leaf-tarp were trembling, the water rising and crashing viciously against their feet.
As her paws took a few tentative steps forward, she froze. Anger surged through her. Why should she help them? They had cast her out like a rogue. They had treated her like dirt, to be kicked and thrown about. She stood over a long ledge overlooking the suffering Pokémon. Some of them flew out from under the leaf-tarp, carrying some of their close friends in their talons. Soon, the entire shelter was almost completely flooded, the Pokémon who stayed being tossed around in the fierce waves and tides. Their eyes shone with desperation, their gazes flicking to her, a pleading look sparkling in their pupils. She looked down at them with disdain and turned away, stalking down the slope and leaving them, abandoned, doomed to drown in the unforgivable flood. She felt no duty to protect them now. Sickly satisfaction burned through her fur. At last, they could suffer like she had. They could understand how it felt to be abandoned and cast away like a pest. Dusk needn’t help them anymore. She would live alone, in isolation from the cruel world. She would never feel the weight of guilt, shame, and abandonment, nor would she bear the responsibility for their protection.
Screams, shrieks, and calls of terror rose from the flood behind her, but Dusk didn’t look back. It was what they deserved. Her claws slid out. She heard them call out for help, for Dusk. For her assistance. It made no difference.
She froze as she spotted a small, round form that flowed and was tossed in the waves of the flood surrounding her from the corner of her eye. She turned; a small egg could be seen, thrown about by the unforgiving storm. She padded over to the place where it had now lodged itself between two twin rocks peeking from the surface of the river, braving the flood like two inseparable friends facing a war. She leaned down and picked it up in her jaws, careful not to break the soft, fragile shell.
Maybe this was her new duty.
Maybe she could help.
One. Last. Time.
^The Festival^
Rain pounded against Dusk’s body, dampening her fur until it sagged with the moisture of the crying sky. Clouds swirled overhead, blocking out the full moon with a dark, hopeless gray. Lightning crashed and rolled in the distance, lighting up the grassy, damp trail for only a moment until the scene was plunged back into darkness.
As Dusk padded through the overcast path, thoughts tugged at the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake off the guilt of how she had failed to predict the storm. She hung her head, staring at the ground, her claws tightening into the earth. It was her responsibility, as the only Pokémon who could warn of incoming disasters, to tell the others of storms and fires and other natural calamities, but lately, she had failed to predict a single one. The Pokémon at the Festival were probably so disappointed in her.
It’s like I’ve lost my powers completely, she thought, her head lowering. What’s happened to them? I can sense a dark force through all this mist… Is that what’s causing the disappearance of my ability? Dusk had never felt this shadow before; all she could originally see was an impenetrable mist swirling in her vision. No matter how hard she tried to see through it, the fog seemed to thicken until she felt she was drowning in it. But now she could see it. A pair of gleaming eyes in the darkness, staring, staring, watching, watching. Never moving, but a deep, chilling feeling would course through her fur, a malevolent anger and hatred burning through her skin, running like a cold thunder through the fog, until it seemed to pierce her heart.
She would turn around randomly, sensing a presence so evil that she felt like someone was stalking her. But she would look, and nothing was there. She felt like she was being watched, even in her own home, where she was meant to feel safe. Secure. But that warm feeling vanished after her powers had disappeared. She felt like, at any moment, something would leap out at her and rip her apart. But nothing happened. She had never felt so terrified in her life.
The Festival was meant to be scheduled on a clear night during the full moon, to last from the afternoon to the break of dawn. The planners for the Festival had come to Dusk to check if the weather would be fine during their chosen date, and Dusk didn’t want to disappoint them. If she told them her powers had gone, they might start to panic, so she had told them it would be fine. The Festival planners must hate her now that the Festival was ruined. Shame tingled through her paws. She had failed everyone. No one even liked her in the first place, and now she felt she would never gain respect from the other Dark-type Pokémon.
She could now see her destination in the distance, a large overhang of leaves protecting the Pokémon from being showered down in the pouring rain. Their faces were grim, and she could feel the glares of hatred burning down on her fur as she ducked under the entrance to join them in their shelter.
She spotted the planners making their way towards her, maneuvering through the crowd of terrified Pokémon, their faces hardened with rage and hurt. One was a Watchog, the other a Lineoon. As they reached Dusk, they were out of breath, their fur drenched from the downpour.
“Dusk!” They spat out her name like bile, rotten on their tongue. “You liar! You told us the weather would be perfect! Does this fit your definition of perfect? It’s pouring down hard out there, and the rivers are starting to flood. And we’re all stuck under this stupid leaf-tarp, cowering in fear and confusion, all because of you! The Festival was supposed to be clear, and now we won’t be able to hold it this year! Arceus will not be pleased!” They took a sharp breath before continuing. “Go out! No one wants you here! Leave, and don’t come back!”
Dusk turned away, defiance sparkling in her eyes. They didn’t know half the story. And why should I tell them? she thought indignantly. They don’t deserve to know. She stalked away, her fur lifting along her spine in irritation. The ground was soggy under her paws, squelching, squeezing, and oozing between her pads. A thick layer of fierce water lapped against her paws as she walked along the shore of the stream. They were right, Dusk thought, shocked. It really is flooding. Her head whipped around, a shriek escaping her throat as she saw the shelter she had so recently left, water lapping up to the supports. The Pokémon under the leaf-tarp were trembling, the water rising and crashing viciously against their feet.
As her paws took a few tentative steps forward, she froze. Anger surged through her. Why should she help them? They had cast her out like a rogue. They had treated her like dirt, to be kicked and thrown about. She stood over a long ledge overlooking the suffering Pokémon. Some of them flew out from under the leaf-tarp, carrying some of their close friends in their talons. Soon, the entire shelter was almost completely flooded, the Pokémon who stayed being tossed around in the fierce waves and tides. Their eyes shone with desperation, their gazes flicking to her, a pleading look sparkling in their pupils. She looked down at them with disdain and turned away, stalking down the slope and leaving them, abandoned, doomed to drown in the unforgivable flood. She felt no duty to protect them now. Sickly satisfaction burned through her fur. At last, they could suffer like she had. They could understand how it felt to be abandoned and cast away like a pest. Dusk needn’t help them anymore. She would live alone, in isolation from the cruel world. She would never feel the weight of guilt, shame, and abandonment, nor would she bear the responsibility for their protection.
Screams, shrieks, and calls of terror rose from the flood behind her, but Dusk didn’t look back. It was what they deserved. Her claws slid out. She heard them call out for help, for Dusk. For her assistance. It made no difference.
She froze as she spotted a small, round form that flowed and was tossed in the waves of the flood surrounding her from the corner of her eye. She turned; a small egg could be seen, thrown about by the unforgiving storm. She padded over to the place where it had now lodged itself between two twin rocks peeking from the surface of the river, braving the flood like two inseparable friends facing a war. She leaned down and picked it up in her jaws, careful not to break the soft, fragile shell.
Maybe this was her new duty.
Maybe she could help.
One. Last. Time.
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