The mountain wind howled against the cliffside as Kaela adjusted the strap of her satchel, her cloak fluttering in the breeze. She stood at the mouth of a long forgotten cave , half-carved by nature, half-worn by time. The surrounding stones bore faint etchings weathered symbols of Arceus and the elements, almost erased by the years.
Behind her, the rest of her party prepared.
Reinhart Velis the steel-nerved Gold-rank with his ever-silent Metagross finished adjusting the harness on his travel pack.
Beside him stood Lira , a lean Silver-rank with a Heliolisk curled around her shoulders like a shawl of living electricity. She scanned the air with a wary eye.
Garen, the older ranger in their group, leaned on his cane while his Noctowl perched above, scanning the path they'd just walked. Garen rarely spoke—but when he did, it was worth hearing.
"Still quiet," Garen muttered, squinting into the trees. "Too quiet."
Kaela cracked her knuckles and stepped forward.
"Well, we're not gonna get answers standing around."
They entered the cave.
----
The deeper they went, the colder the air grew.
The tunnel opened into a wide jagged rocks, dripping moisture, a floor of cracked stone overgrown with strange moss. Bioluminescent fungi glowed faintly in patches, giving the entire place an eerie, purplish hue.
Reinhart lowered his lantern. "This is the right place. The map matches the coordinates given by the scouts."
Kaela crouched beside a trail of scorched claw marks in the stone.
"Another battle happened here. Not recently, but violent. Whatever lives here… it's not just territorial."
Lira knelt beside her. "Look."
She pointed to a smear of dried blood along the cavern wall. Embedded in it was something strange a fibrous thread, like a tiny purple root or vein, pulsing faintly.
Kaela pulled out a small vial and carefully cut a piece of the thread into it. "This wasn't here last time."
"It's in the others too," Reinhart said. "Every corrupted one we've fought recently has shown these… veins. Usually along the neck or chest. Almost like a second nervous system."
"Poisonous?" Lira asked.
"No," Garen said quietly. "Wrong."
They looked at him.
"Not natural. Not even like poison types. Something else. Something… not from here."
Kaela's stomach twisted.
'This matches what the shrine maiden felt at Tornadus's altar. Something heavy in the wind. Like sickness.'
---
They moved on.
Deeper still, until the cavern opened into a small underground glade an open, circular chamber with a natural skylight above. Moonlight poured down into the clearing, illuminating a cracked altar of white stone.
Nothing else.
No treasure. No Plate. No markings.
Just silence.
Kaela approached the altar and ran a hand across its surface.
"…I was told this place was once a shrine. Maybe even one of Arceus's forgotten temples. But there's no sign of a Plate."
Reinhart examined the floor. "Someone's been here. Tracks. Light ones. Small feet."
Kaela's pulse quickened. "Children?"
"No," Reinhart said. "Just one."
Kaela crouched beside him.
In the dirt was the faint imprint of a small foot. But it was warped. The heel was wrong. The toes too long.
Not human.
She rose to her feet, unease prickling at her spine.
That's when they heard it.
A faint, clicking sound.
From the tunnel behind them, a red-eyed Ariados emerged. Its chitin shimmered with an oily sheen, and its mouthparts twitched unnaturally. Purple veins pulsed along its thorax.
It didn't roar. It hissed—like static in a crystal amplifier.
"Ready," Kaela barked.
The battle was swift but brutal.
The Ariados moved erratically, ignoring pain, lunging not to catch but to maim. It fought like a puppet pulled by a string. When Metagross slammed it into the wall, it convulsed but didn't cry out. Even in death, its eyes glowed briefly before dimming to black.
"Same corruption," Reinhart muttered.
Kaela stood over the body, breathing hard.
"Whatever's doing this… it's getting stronger."
-----
Far from Avia's Hollow, in a remote manor perched on the edge of a fog-drenched moor, a man stood by a fireplace, turning a small drawing over in his hands.
The sketch was clumsy crayon lines, childish shapes.
A tree. A flower. A smiling family of three.
A soft voice called from the hallway.
"Papa? Are you looking at it again?"
The man turned.
A girl stepped into the room. She was young, no older than six or seven, with longwhite-blonde hair and eyes that shimmered a little too brightly.
"I added more color this time!" she said cheerfully, holding out a second drawing.
He took it gently, tears in his eyes.
"It's… beautiful," he whispered.
The girl smiled.
Behind her, the hallway darkened. Something shimmered at the edge of sighta jelly-like silhouette, pulsing faintly in the shadows.
The girl skipped forward and hugged his leg. "Do you think Mommy would like it?"
He nodded, brushing her hair.
"Of course. She'd love it."
The girl beamed and leaned closer.
In the dark behind her, the shadow pulsed again. Its tendrils curled slowly, lovingly.
And for a moment just for a moment the girl's eyes flashed purple.
----
Kaela stood at the edge of the altar, staring up at the moon.
"Nothing here," she muttered. "But the corruption's real."
Reinhart nodded. "We report back. Carefully."
Garen ran a finger across the wall. His eyes narrowed.
"I feel it," he said.
"Feel what?"
"The wind. It doesn't move in here. Not at all."
They looked up.
The moonlight was still.
Not shifting. Not flickering.
Kaela felt it then, too.
A kind of... held breath.
Like the cave was waiting for something.