“Let us begin.”

The three words echoed through the tent, forcing all that had heard them to let go of any external distractions for however long all this was going to take. No matter how derisive anyone here was of either the human or the need for this entire procedure, they knew how important this discussion would be.

Because of the precedent.

Because of the impact it would have on their future.

Because of an innocent life being on the line.

“Let me restate the purpose we are gathered here for: to discuss what we should do with Anne, the human in our midst, and vote on a specific plan of action. Does everyone present agree with that purpose,” Ana spoke in her flat, grinding voice, delivering more words nobody could deny, but which most flinched at. One after the other, all thirteen participants nodded, silently or otherwise. No room or reason to delay.

“Perfect,” the Torkoal continued. “In that case, I ask for the events that led us here to be restated, so that everyone may have access to the same information.”

Aria lifted her hand before the Torkoal was even done—the only one to do so. Her eyes swept around the room as she gathered words, trying to get a feel of how others felt about it. Many of them avoided looking at her, or at the injured child beside her.

Don’t look away from the consequences, you cowards.

“Proceed, Aria.”

The Gardevoir’s arm shook as it caressed Anne’s side, the sudden silence only making her huddle closer to her guardian. Unfortunately, she had to stop that affection for just a moment as she slid forward to speak up, reaching to hold the girl’s hand instead, poking out of the blanket. With a deep breath, she recounted, “^Three days ago, Anne attempted to escape from her human family, after having been abused by them for years. It resulted in her suffering an accident in the nearby woods, and afterwards she was found, grievously injured, in the ravine east of our village. Afterwards, Sprout had rescued her, and moved her over to our clinic.^”

A motion in the corner of Aria’s eye caught her attention. Celia looking not at her, not at Anne, but away and at the floor, still obscuring her mouth.

“Sprout, can you vouch for Aria’s words?” the Torkoal asked.

“Yep I can, Elder Ana.”

“Proceed as you were.”

“^After she woke up, I and others talked to her for the next few days. She is approximately the same mental age as Cadence, withdrawn, and enjoys drawing. Most crucially for our proceedings, however, she has no human family to come back to—none she would be safe with. In addition, she used to be long-time friends with Ember, but thanks to Cinder’s involvement, Ember didn’t remember that until Marco and Autumn helped her uncover her memories.^”

Aria’s free hand shook, clenched into a fist, as she tried her hardest to maintain flat neutrality during her recollection.

“Marco, can you vouch for Aria’s words?”

An uncomfortably long moment of silence before the Gallade caught onto the words being said, eyes darting as if snapped out of deep thought. Then; he finally answered, “Yes, I can, Elder Ana.”

“Proceed as you were.”

“^I believe that was everything that needed to be said about Anne’s past for the time being, Elder Ana.^”

A brief look from the Torkoal, discarded right away as she continued, “Very well. Let us proceed into the discussion of what should be done—”

Immediately, several limbs raised up to offer their perspectives. Sprout, Lucere, Winnie, Ruby—Aria’s too, snapped upwards so quickly she didn’t even consciously realize it until afterwards. One sweep around the gathered scouts, another, Ana made her choice. “Proceed, Ruby.”

The Weavile took a deep breath as she stepped forward, speaking up in a tense, but confident tone, “As far as I’m concerned, the answer is simple. We do the same thing we’d do with any other creature in that situation, and give her shelter.”

It took only seconds for someone to speak out-of-order afterwards.

“But we can’t!” Lucere cried. “Humans sure as hell aren’t like us; we wouldn’t be hiding from them if they were! Come on, why are we even arguing about any of this!? Humans have never ever accepted us as equals, and never will!”

The Altaria underlined her thrust by pointing her cloudy wing in Anne’s general direction, the girl thankfully too blind to notice. Unfortunately, she still heard the spirited chirping that others perceived as speech, and could tell it was being said at her. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no choice but to shrink and look down at the floor like a scolded pet.

It took Aria a lot of self control to not snap back at that, especially with how much of Lucere’s mind wasn’t even focused on anything going on here. Images of long past trauma, her own exile, the faces of the ones she once called family shifting into monstrous caricatures of Anne’s face. Unfortunate, but no less loathsome in the current situation.

“Lucere, wait in li—”

“And on what bloody authority do you claim that, Lucere?” Rose asked, cutting Ana’s scolding off with her own as her eyes glared at and through the Altaria.

The Dragon-type recognized a challenge when she heard one, not even thinking about backing down. “Just look at what they did to Cypress! Both that awful ball thing and how much their brainwashed pets had hurt them! They’re shaking even now for frickin’ crying out loud; how could you think they’re anything but this monstrous—”

“Enough...”

“—thing that will hurt us the first chance they get!? That’s just the most naïve thing I’ve ever heard! What Rose, are you gonna claim that this pet human here would ever have more empathy for—”

“Enough...”

“—one of ours, something they all only try to control, than one of their own that our Cypress had messed up in self-defense—”

“ENOUGH.”

The ghastly outburst echoed through the tent as the Altaria suddenly stared the Mismagius in the eye. Their Astonish was effective, but the ghost was well aware they had to speak or else she’d just continue rambling forever.

“Cypress—”

“Yes, my experience was mortifying,” the ghost continued, cutting Ana off. “Earlier today, a human trainer had attempted to capture me with one of their spherical contraptions. Afterwards, once I broke out, I attacked them, and their trained mon fought back in their name...”

Everyone else being caught up to speed made them gasp at what they assumed to have been a far more innocuous accident on their scouting duty. Shock, concern, worry, all justified—none of those useful in the moment as long as they remained aimed at the Mismagius.

“It left scars in my mind and my physical presence that I am unsure will ever fully heal. It made me fear the power the human contraptions possess at their worst…” Cypress kept going, floating back to their spot as the emotions in their voice waned by the word, revealing only more pain. “But the evil humanity is capable of, on the whole, is far from any singular human’s actions. None of us are defined by our kin. And for anyone here to imply that dear Anne should be judged under the criteria that they would find loathsome when aimed at them, is a peak of hypocrisy...”

After getting their rebuke out, the Mismagius shrunk a bit in their seat. They tried to avoid wincing as their recent injury acted up—wincing too loudly, at least. Aria felt no less sorry for them than everyone else, but another emotion took up much of her mind instead—gratitude. She looked at the ghost as they finished recoiling from their pain, offering them a weak smile and an even weaker nod.

Hopefully, she would feel similarly stupid for ever doubting others here.

“In addition,” Cypress continued, “I would prefer ‘Mr.’ Cypress for the rest of this—”

“This is insanity! These human spheres are tools of subjugation and mind control! How can we be sure Cypress’s and Rose’s memories are even believable? Why, this foul human’s presence is no doubt bringing back their influence over them! How are we to know that this thing being here isn’t making them both give in to their conditioning!?” Winnie ranted, his words mostly received with eye rolls and held-in groans, but... there was a kernel of truth to them.

Indeed, they didn’t really know about how these human things worked, and whether they didn’t have a lingering component to them that was affecting the Mismagius in particular. It was immensely foolish to outright accuse them of that, but... what if?

Regardless of how much their experiences had conditioned them, the two scouts that had been called into question sure weren’t happy about it. Cypress shook in place in a way that Anne would’ve recognized as a seizure if she could make it out.

Rose, however, was one snap impulse from making everyone present—and the Breloom in particular—regret having a sense of smell. Before she could get wound up further, though, the Decidueye beside her stepped in, “At that point, why not doubt everyone, eh!? For fuck’s sake, why not doubt YOU, you old bastard!? How do YOU know you aren’t under some ancient psychic influence that will turn you against us all the moment something happens you disagree with!?”

As opposed to Rose’s theoretical loss of temper, Sprout’s would at least only result in one person’s suffering. Regardless of whether he was unaware of how much he was tempting fate or considered himself above any consequences, Winnie cared little for the Grass-type’s words. “That’s preposterous!!! Why, if Orion heard all this, of his most trusted aide being accused of acting on ulterior motives, he would be outraged, just as outraged as he would be at the sight of this human in our midst! My thoughts are only for the best of our village and our people, ONLY!!!”

As much as she preferred being a passive listener to the increasingly spirited exchange, Aria couldn’t let that one slide. Her head snapped towards the Breloom; the motion combined with her fierce expression taking Anne aback as the Gardevoir spoke, “^And theirs aren’t!? Need I remind you, Elder Winnie, that this is a home to us all, and all of us are trying to act in its best interest?^”

The Gardevoir’s mental whisper only barely avoided escalating into full-on shouting, something that couldn’t be said for the Elder’s reply. “Bah! Obviously not, if you are willing to keep this affront to our safety here!?”

That’s it, Aria’s heard enough; this deserved a rant of her own. The Torkoal obviously thought so as well, her head craned towards her fellow Elder as she was about to chide him—

“Ahem.”

In an instant, Celia’s Disarming Voice had tempered everyone’s not-unearned desire to throw hands into mere disappointment, while drawing their attention back to her. The sudden wave of mental coolness it had brought with itself also shook Cypress out of the flashback his mind was siccing on him, letting him focus on the matter at hand.

It only lasted a moment, but Aria still noticed the flash of emotion on the Primarina’s face. For just a split-second, her azure eyes drilled into Winnie’s side, the tiniest amount of mute fury leaking from behind her mask-like flipper—and then, an instant later, she was back to how she was before, waiting for Ana to continue.

Before the Torkoal could do so, though, Aria heard another voice from much closer up, one much more scared at the sudden shift she had just felt, “~W-what just happened?~”

As quiet as she had tried to be, many of the keen-eared scouts still heard the human girl clearly, making them look at her in unison. She couldn’t see many details, but she definitely saw that. It made her withdraw further; stare anywhere but at the many eyes judging her, silently hoping they would spare her in time. Whether they would do so; remained to be seen.

“^One of the Elders calmed everyone down with Disarming Voice, sweetie,^” Aria explained with a telepathic whisper.

It was appreciated, but Anne had no time to process it before more untranslated noises had reached her, slow and grinding, “I would advise everyone here to not make accusations of anyone else having been compromised.”

Ana’s tone might’ve been only slightly more forced than normal, but that still represented a significant shift the ones present were well aware of. The Torkoal had nothing even resembling a ‘casual’ voice, but she sure had a ‘super serious’ voice, and it was what she had just used. “That aside, let me put a new point forward. The two extremes of flatly letting or not letting her stay are insufficient, considering the delicacy of this situation.”

The Gardevoir might’ve rolled her eyes at the attempted watering down of Anne’s right to safety, but it still grabbed the interest of many others—much to her dismay.

“Aria, you have mentioned she does not have a family to return to,” Ana continued. “That is highly unfortunate, but does not, by itself, preclude her being reintroduced to human society. Many of our little ones have been adopted over the years, and I assume that humanity has a social construct analogous to that. With that in mind, I find it hard to imagine there not being a way to return her to the human world through that alternative, adoption based method.”

Ana had to pause for breath afterwards, deeply unused to speaking this much all at once. As she did, everyone else thought through her words, many with interest. Regrettably, Aria didn’t remember enough of her chat with Olive to say it with certainty. She was rather sure, though, that the old woman had raised—and dismissed—that exact point.

Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to be the one to poke holes into Ana’s fence-sitting idea.

“And what would that method be?” the Skuntank asked, cutting through to the root of the problem with just a few words. She stared deep into the Fire-type’s squinting eyes as she spoke, slicing through the veneer of neutrality and objectivity. It made Ana shiver, about to speak up before faltering.

Because, indeed, the Torkoal had no answer—nobody did. It required the knowledge about human society that no mon present had, and which Anne likely didn’t have either. And even if she did, Ana wasn’t deluding herself about her giving them all the information which would replace her safety here with anything less.

Aria flinched at seeing Lumi’s maw open. He was ready to butt right in with something she doubted anyone else wanted to hear—but then; he stopped himself. Instead, he looked over at the Gardevoir, at the human beside her, and laid down on the floor, eyes narrowed.

Before the Torkoal could find her grounding again, Rose continued, “Are you gonna keep theorizin’ and fumblin’ your way through the human society, all that effort, just to come up with a way of tossing her?” The accusation in her words was clear, and if not for the rest of the discussion having already loosened Ana’s grip on the situation, she would’ve spoken up with a warning at least. For now, she had to let it slide.

That didn’t mean that nobody else would end up picking up her rhetorical mantle, though.

“What else are we to do, then?” Lariat asked. “Even if they’re not all evil, humans are still unlike us. She will never be one of us.”

The Lucario’s words were delivered without Lucere’s or Winnie’s venom, earning everyone’s benefit of the doubt. And, without the bigotry of the aforementioned two, a point did remain. A dreadful point, a point that Aria dismissed entirely... but which deserved to be dismissed out loud. It wasn’t easy to keep her emotions in check after hearing that the innocent child beside her would never be thought of on equal terms with others. Still, she managed it—it was obviously true.

It was time to use her hard-earned calmness for good. The Gardevoir spoke, “^I have spent much time with her, Lariat. For how vicious humanity is, and while us hiding from them is justified, humans as people aren’t as unlike us as they might appear.^” She underlined her point by applying some gentle psychic affection on top of Anne’s head. The magical touch could only do so much, but it still helped the little one remain calm at the growls echoing through the room as the psychic continued, “^They look different, they act different in their society, but to me it’s clear that these are differences of nurture, not nature, many of them skin-deep. Humans desire everything we do—security, love, comfort, kinship. There is nothing inherent to the human psyche that would make them incompatible with us as people.^”

The Lucario wasn’t quite convinced. And with every vote mattering here, she kept going; kept comforting the girl beside her. “^I will not deny that she is unfamiliar with a lot of what we are and are capable of. She did express surprise when me and Autumn first spoke to her. I felt her shock at realizing we were people just like her, and that the same was true of others. She was wrong about these, but it wasn’t caused by hate, merely ignorance.^”

Aria paused, briefly doubting whether it was a good idea to bring up the tangent she was about to—before going for it, anyway. It wouldn’t make her look good, but it was an unmistakable fact, and she knew it applied to others here besides just her. “^I know I can only speak for myself, but the experience of realizing other living beings beyond just my kin are people too isn’t alien to me. I imagine it’s not alien to anyone who grew up in an insular environment. For as large as it is, humanity is insular in a very similar way, especially in how it treats mons. But it’s not something we can’t act against.^”

After letting go of Anne’s hand, Aria wrapped her entire arm around the girl, holding her tight.

“^Tolerance isn’t an inherent goodness. We already have to teach it to many newcomers, be it bluntly or in more covert ways. If anything, Anne is ahead of the curve in that regard. She acknowledges her ignorance, and wants to learn more about us, about how to coexist here.^”

The Gardevoir had no delusions that her explanation would only reach those that were already open to being persuaded. All she hoped for was that the said group was large enough to guarantee Anne’s safety once the vote came—both now, and for the rest of her life afterwards.

As her words settled into gathered minds, a red pincer shot upright beside her. Aria was quite sure Ori hadn’t spoken up at all yet, making her nod towards him that much more hesitant. Worst-case scenario, she’d at least gauge the room some more, but that wasn’t much of a reprieve.

“There is one difference between us and humans that goes much deeper than tolerance or its absence. We have access to moves, whereas they do not,” the Scizor brought up.

“And that matters for what exactly?” Ruby snapped back, staring the Bug-type down. He wasn’t intimidated, already gathering words—only for the Weavile to continue. “If not having moves was a deal-breaker, we would’ve thrown our newly hatched out to die, and we’re obviously not doing that.”

Ori rolled his eyes. “That is clearly a fallacious idea, Ruby.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it with how you’ve phrased it, Ori. But alright then—what about Max? What about others that, for whatever reason, can’t use their moves anymore, be it because of disability or age? Nobody cares about something trivial like that—nobody should, at least.”

While the Weavile’s first point wasn’t taken seriously, the second one did get its hooks in people. Aria was glad that she wasn’t the one that would have to bring the Meowstic up, sliding her hand down for Anne to hold.

“~Is that Weavile angry at me?~” Anne whispered, drawing more unwelcome attention to herself.

This time at least, the onlookers caught onto Aria’s terse glare that awaited their overly curious eyes, pushing their gazes away. “^No, no she’s not, sweetie,^” the Gardevoir explained. “^She’s arguing in your favor right now.^”

Anne’s relief at someone here standing up for her was palpable—as was the inward jab that shook her mind soon after. At having cast doubt on a mon because of their species, again. The Gardevoir’s affection pushed the girl away from that self-inflicted stress.

In the meantime, Sprout picked up the discussion. “All that aside—she’s a defenseless child! Even if she was different from us, why’d it matter, eh!? Because, guess what, all of us are different, both from each other and from what many think of as ‘fine’.”

The looks of uncertainty from around the room weren’t difficult to pick up on, including from Aria. Sprout’s wording wasn’t very clear—the elaboration that followed, though, was. “Lemme be as blunt as I have to be then, ha! Some of us, both in the village and in this very tent, are profoundly fucked up from our pasts. We aren’t all ‘fine’, we aren’t all ‘normal’; a difference like that makes a much larger impact than how someone looks. And yet, we don’t turn people away. Even if they have so much trauma in them it bleeds from their mouths.”

Almost everyone present felt targeted, to some extent, by her words. It was a direct, arguably underhanded jab, enough to earn her more than a single glare from others. And yet, befitting her kin, it hit true, making them all think.

Even if some still disagreed with it. “This is different, though,” the Luxray argued. “Our pasts or not, our kin or not, these differences don’t add up to larger than being a human. Come on, Sprout. Keeping a human here would be unlike anyone—anything earlier!”

The Decidueye wasn’t convinced.

“Yes Lumi, it would be different. Just how, before I got here, keeping a Decidueye here would’ve been unlike anyone that came before. New people join all tha time, some of them of kin so wild none of us here have heard of them!”

Sprout might not have been pointing at the Primarina, but she very much thought about her.

“These are obviously not the same!” the Luxray argued.

“How, Lumi, pray tell?”

“WE ARE GOING IN CIRCLES.”

Ana’s raised voice cut the Luxray off before he could come up with another non-answer. Neither Lumi nor Sprout agreed with that claim, but knew better than to keep pushing a tangent like that—especially with more important topics looming on the horizon.

“If anyone has a more salient point to raise, please do so,” Ana continued. An array of arms shot up at her call—Marco’s first of all. The Gallade had remained almost entirely quiet until now, uncharacteristic of him enough to draw the Fire-type’s attention. Not even his sister had noticed that, making her check up on how he felt.

And gasping under her breath.

“Go ahead, Marco.”

After being prompted, the Fighting-type stood up and rolled his shoulders. His exhaustion was clear to see despite his best attempts to obscure it—could only do so much with most of his front still burned. It slowed him down, but only for a moment. Soon after, he began, “^As some of you may know, two days ago, a human from their nearby town ventured over in search of Anne.^”

An uneven response. The Elders were well aware, as were a few of his fellow scouts, but far from all. The latter group leaned in further, eyes narrowed as the Gallade continued, “^Myself, Aria, and Lumi apprehended her before she, or her mon companions, could get too close to our village.^”

“Do you vouch for that, Aria? Lumi?”

The Gardevoir was unsure where her brother was taking that entire tangent, but didn’t like his pensive state one bit. Still, that much having happened was inarguable.

“^Yes.^” / “Aye.”

“Proceed as you were.”

“^After interrogating her for a while, the human's group accompanied Lumi and Aria to the human town. There, they, with her help, acquired many items that either once belonged to Anne, or which would prove invaluable to her in case she stayed here. Once they were done, Aria erased the human’s and their companions’ memories of the incident.^”

Lucere only barely kept herself from raising her voice at the insanity she just heard described, and Lariat was no better. It was only that final clarification that calmed them—and Winnie—back down, preventing any more outbursts.

Aria remained silent, but increasingly tense as the fear of the worst-case scenario surged in her mind.

“~I-is that Marco?~” Anne whispered. Her guardian was too focused to even respond to her words, only holding her hand even firmer. Same was true of most others.

As absurd as the actions described already were, the Gallade clearly wasn’t done yet. “P-proceed, Marco,” Ana urged, not immune to the anxiety gripping the room.

“^It appears that, because of the emotional intensity of their encounter, the memory removal wasn’t entirely effective. I investigated the situation just in case, and found the human, Olive, still remembering the events.^”

Aria’s heart skipped a beat after another as she stared at her brother. Thankfully, her shock came off as being horrified at having failed in her duties, and not of her little secret having been revealed to an audience that would tear her to shreds for it.

Aside from her, there was only one being in the room who realized the Gallade was lying. Before the Luxray would speak up, though, the Torkoal cut him off, her voice an inch away from fainting, “Did you erase their memories, then?”

“^No, I did not.^”

The gasps that went through the tent were well audible even outside of it. Eleven pairs of eyes stared at the upright psychic in shock, one in relief, and one in scared confusion.

Marco knew it wouldn’t be long before that first group demanded answers, and so he continued before anyone could shout him down, “^I… considered it, for a moment. But, after having interacted with her, I am confident it is in our best interest she remains aware of us.^” He angled his body towards Rose, vaguely gesturing in her direction, “^I have no doubt of her dedication to keep the knowledge of us secret from humanity at large. She cares about Anne more than anything else, and if it takes helping a village of mons to give the girl a loving home, then that’s what she’ll do.^”

Snarls from the Elders and scouts alike, disregarded for now.

“^The human world had already cast a doubt on Olive because of what happened when Aria and Lumi accompanied her. She’s already had an opportunity to betray us all to save herself from consequences—and she hasn’t. I’ve talked to her. She’s hurt about us having tried to wipe her memory—and deservedly so. Even despite that, she remained dedicated to helping Anne, and us, out. I strongly believe her help will be vital. Even those of us who have extensively interacted with humanity remain very ignorant about many of its aspects. The talk I’ve had with her was very illuminating in that regard—and terrifying.^”

Not even the Skuntank knew what he meant—once he continued, though, it became obvious. “^Let me elaborate. We’re all aware of the human contraptions, but they go far further than any of us, even Rose or Geiger, knew about. During Aria’s and Lumi’s excursion, the former was spotted despite her psychic disguise. Not by a human, but by one of their machines, a metal eye that can see through disguises and which our psychics can’t see.^”

Not even his sister could resist gasping in shock at her disguise failing, especially in such a fashion. Her immediate thoughts mirrored those of her brother when this shocking reality was first revealed to him—how come nobody acted shocked? How did she not sense it? How many of her past interventions have been compromised by one of these ‘cameras’ seeing her even though the human using them didn’t?

Just a few meters away, two of the Elders thought back, way back, to Orion’s many tales. He’d used very different words to describe it, but they were nigh-certain he was talking about the same contraption as Marco. It unnerved him enough to birth ideas of moving their village underground, just to avoid its stray gaze.

“That is an immense breach of security, Marco. How do—”

“^I’m not finished yet, Elder Ana.^”

It was about to get so much worse.

“Proceed, then,” the Torkoal muttered, aghast.

“^You are correct, that is a breach of security, and if one of their cameras were to unknowingly see our village, it might end up spelling doom for us all,^” the Gallade reiterated. And then, he took the deepest breath of his life, and dropped the hammer, “^And it has already happened. Their flying contraptions we sometimes see overhead, they’ve been scanning the world with their ‘cameras’. They have spotted us among the trees from high in the clouds. We are visible there, on their maps, Olive showed it to me. And we have been for years.^”

Panic.

“This—THIS IS TREASON!” Winnie screeched, by far the loudest and the easiest to ignore in the room.

“How come neither Geiger nor Rose have told us about this?” Lariat question, calm tone cracking into immense suspicion as his crimson eyes stared into the Skuntank—and she stared back, not appreciating it any.

“We need to evacuate as soon as we can, to a location where we can avoid that threat,” Ana began, before being cut off—

“Where!?” Rose shouted, cutting the Torkoal off once more as her reasonable-sounding point was challenged. Once more, Ana couldn’t answer, soon yielding under the Poison-type’s glare as the latter spoke up, no less unnerved by this development, “I wasn’t aware of none of that, Lariat. I s’pose it only makes sense with how fast their technology keeps growing. Did any of ya think humans remained as they are while we grew in ‘ere? We ain’t static, neither are they.”

It was a sobering reminder for those that needed to hear it.

A reminder of their existential threat not being some narrow force dedicated to bringing them down, but a massive, living thing in its own right. Ever-growing because of a combined ingenuity of billions. The realization made the Primarina’s eyes shoot wide open as they stared at the central firepit, unusually unfocused.

“But if we panic and run without having a proper plan, how’ll we know that somethin’ like this won’t happen all over again!?” Rose argued. “They’ll keep changing, they’ll keep growin’, and even if Annie here stays with us, it won’t be for no good with her being separated from the rest of humanity. We can’t fight against something we don’t know nothing about, we can’t even hide. We need to know what’s goin’ on in the human world—and an informant we can trust, like that Olive, might just save our hides.”

The Skuntank’s rant had reached a few of the gathered minds, though many more were still too choked by fear to think about anything but their immediate future.

“She doesn’t even matter! If our village is compromised, we have to get out of here fast! We have to leave the girl behind, maybe with Ember so that they can stay together, leave that wanna-be human with them too—and get going, we don’t have any time to waste!” Lumi screeched, his panicking parody of a plan drawing uncertainty and anger alike from around the room—the latter from both of the psychic siblings.

The mention of a ‘wanna-be human’ raised a few eyebrows, but it was lost in the noise.

Anne whimpered at the Luxray gesturing in her general direction, catching half the room’s attention. She had no idea just how much of it was out of either sympathy or feeling sorry for her.

“Lumi, if you sincerely think that plan to be sound, I would love to observe you trying to convince Cinder of its validity...” Cypress snickered.

The Electric-type dismissed that point soon after, sweeping the Delphox into his panicking plan. “She can stay then if that’s what she wants so much!”

“^I’m not leaving Anne alone, either,^” Aria muttered, stressing her grim words by holding the girl close to her side, the sudden motion startling Anne a bit. The Gardevoir tried making up for it with some psychic affection, but it could only do so much with how heavy the fear hung over her. Over them all.

“^And neither am I.^” Marco followed, earning himself a sideways glance from his sister, unsure if he really meant what she thought he did. And then, a flashed smile and a nod later, it all became clear.

“^Nor the rest of our family,^” Aria continued. “^I’ve talked with Geiger about this earlier—if we’re all spineless enough to leave Anne to die, then he’s leaving with us. And he definitely won’t be the only one to do so.^”

“Damn right he won’t.” Sprout muttered, her affirmation lighting a fire in the Gardevoir’s soul. It made hope feel so much easier, even if fleetingly.

Winnie tried screeching once more, “That’s blatant INTIMIDAT—”

“At that point, everyone left behind will be a larger security hazard than a stray human aware of us...” Ruby muttered.

Her point flew over a few heads—as shown, soon after, by the Altaria. “What do you mean, of course they won’t be! They wouldn’t betray us!”

“No, Ruby is right,” Ana shuddered. “It is not about overt betrayal, it is about those left being either spotted by accident, or captured and interrogated by human forces.” Her voice was shallow, accompanied by what passed for her as hyperventilation.

Before she even knew it, this entire session had turned from deciding a fate of a child, to steering the direction of their village as a whole. Something neither she, nor the other Elders, had ever felt equipped to handle.

“What do you mean about it not being about betrayal, Elder Ana?” The Lucario asked, the grasp on the discussion having slipped from him.

The Torkoal didn’t care for having to spell something so obvious to her out loud, but thought it appropriate if it would get everyone present on the same page—even those who usually only thought in terms of loyalty and close-knit kinship groups, and just extrapolated that thinking to their entire village. “None of this was ever about betrayal. I doubt even Anne would’ve ever betrayed us. The risk of letting her stay, in letting her go, isn’t about betrayal. It’s about us being compromised by accident, or out of hastiness.”

And for those so concerned with loyalty, seeing three of their coworkers stand firmly in the human’s defense made an impact, too.

As if Lumi’s idea hadn’t been discredited enough, Aria soon had another realization that only doomed it even further. “^Besides, removing Anne’s memories wouldn’t give us any more safety in that case than letting her keep them. Even if we all up and left tomorrow, we’d still leave many signs of our habitation here unless we tore it all into dust.^”

The sheer paranoia gripping many of the gathered didn’t let them see a problem in that approach. Even they saw the obvious issue pointed right after, though, grimacing at the thought as the Gardevoir continued, “^Hundreds of living beings all heading in the same direction all at once would leave an obvious trail, too. But even if we made a clear getaway—can you imagine how disturbed the humans would be to find a ‘lost’ child after several days, with no idea what had happened despite having received medical help? Even a pitiful psychic would realize there was memory manipulation involved. And that's without even mentioning Ember suddenly resurfacing with her.^”

Fine details of altering memories weren’t something anyone but Aria could argue about, leaving even those that really, really wanted her to shut up without verbal fuel.

“^All that is the point I’ve been trying to get across,^” Marco spoke up again. “^If we panic and thoughtlessly run away from those dangers, we’ll only crash into new ones, sooner or later. Keeping Olive as our informant is a risk, yes, but it’s a risk that could save us from many, many more down the line if we take a measured approach.^”

The Gallade summary once more left the room quiet; thought clear on the faces of many gathered. There wasn’t much difference between Ana’s eyes being closed and open, but those that knew her could tell they were the former. Ori turned similarly thoughtful, chewing through the uncomfortable dilemma.

“If those... ‘cameras’ are really such a problem, can we not hide behind something?” Lariat proposed.

“That’s right, we’ll just have to learn to hide better! I remember someone saying we could move underground; wouldn’t that help?” Lucere followed.

Marco tried to maintain as much composure as could at their responses, only keeping himself from burying his face into his palm by the sheer force of will. Meanwhile, the Luxray continued, “That ‘small risk’ isn’t worth it. It’s still allying with humans; it’s a start of a slippery slope that is gonna end us all.”

“He didn’t say to ally with all the humans, Lumi,” the Weavile sneered. “Just one human, whom we have good reason to already trust. Though... yes, it’s still a difficult thing to consider.”

“It certainly does sound difficult, dear Ruby. There is the important distinction of it being a risk we can control, as opposed to a passive one we are on the whims of...”

Winnie screeched, “ANY human interaction is an unacceptable risk, for Orion’s sake! By the gods, would he weep if he saw what all of you were doing with his legacy!”

“Sure doubt that, you moldy thing. That aside—yeah, we need to know more about humans, all of us. Need I remind some of you that four of y’all couldn’t even open a single darn human bag on your own?” Sprout reminded, her callout downright quaint compared to the tension suffocating the air, forcing the weakest chuckle out of the Gardevoir.

And then, soon after, a point of her own. “^We couldn’t even keep deceiving Anne for more than a few hours, despite her being as blind as she is right now. We know precariously little, it’s a miracle we’ve survived for as long as we have.^”

With blood having returned to her still-pale face, Aria dared to offer Anne her hand again. She knew full well her confidence wouldn’t last, but appreciated its sudden burst all the same.

“Damn right it is, hun. If anythin’, it’s also a testament to even that new camera risk not being as dire as we’re all frettin’—if they been knowing about us for years and still haven’t done anything, then it sure don’t sound like we have to act here and now. Get a plan, sure, but keep sane about it, too,” Rose reminded.

Once she was done, the tent fell into tense silence once more. A low, grinding hum came from inside the Torkoal, letting everyone know she was about to speak again, and to not interrupt her. Or, at least, it let those aware of what it meant know that.

“~What was everyone talking about...?~” Anne asked, her whispers more confused than they were scared for once, especially at Marco’s substantial presence in the discussion that had just happened.

Aria shuddered as she tried to come up with words, ultimately settling on just being blunt, “^We talked about Olive, and how she could help us out.^”

The almost-blind girl nodded weakly at the telepathic words; hard to process because of exhaustion and tension. It took a while for her to do so, but she eventually did—and gasped; everyone’s hearts skipping a beat at the sound, “~M-Mrs. Graham!?~”

Anne didn’t have to see to know everyone was staring at her at the sudden noise. She shifted her gaze to the ground before her, avoiding even coming close to looking anyone in the eye.

Once both she and the onlookers had calmed down, the Torkoal spoke once more, voice sunken, “Even if we were to thoroughly plan it out, having to relocate would cause an immense upheaval that could spell our doom.”

Her words were true—as were the ones that followed.

“^Upheaval, yes. One that could very well save our lives in the long term.^”

With his closing statement provided, Marco finally sat down, failing to keep his winces in. The day had already been profoundly exhausting, physically and mentally. He wasn’t sure how much discussion he had left in himself. Feeling his sister’s radiant pride helped a lot in keeping him going, though.

With the silence filling the room, the Torkoal called out again, “If anyone has another topic to raise, please do so.”

This time, her call had no immediate results, the entire tent shrouded in uncertain fear over Marco’s revelation. As good as Aria felt moments earlier, her good spirits didn’t last when confronted with so much doubt, aimed every which way. At Marco, at her, at the friendly human that had alerted them to their ongoing demise. At the innocent child beside her.

Thinking grew difficult, and she hoped the end was in sight. And so did Celia, quietly shuffling her cart-bound body forward as she prepared to speak up—only for Cypress’ raised tentacle to cut her off.

“Yes, Cypress?”

The ghost’s body hurt as he gathered words, not enjoying the tension in the room any more than anyone else. It was nourishment, yes, but it was a putrid sort of fear, enough of it to make him grow nauseous. He didn’t even need to be putting himself out here like this. It wasn’t directly related to Anne’s case, but... it still had implications for her, for them all.

And who knew—maybe it would help convince someone, too.

“My point does not concern dear Anne directly. I wish to draw our attention over to the dear Phantump presently staying at our clinic, Sage. Dear Anne here, along with others, were instrumental in letting dear Sage remember her past—and that she was once a human. Once she had rediscovered that fact, she expressed an interest in returning to her human home...”

“Oh poor, poor dear! Does she know where to go?” Sprout asked, worried.

As warm as her words were towards the lost Phantump, most others were much more concerned with the idea’s obvious risk. “I doubt that her being allowed to rejoin humanity, after having stayed here, is desirable,” the Scizor spelled out. “It poses a substantial security risk—”

“Everythin’ we do does, Ori! Each soul that joins us here makes us a bigger, clearer target if you ain’t aware of that! We live in a world that doesn’t want us to; the worst of humanity would have our pelts for amusement if it ever got their hands on us! Are ya gonna use ‘risk’ as an excuse to keep a child here against her will for our benefit!?”

The Decidueye’s outburst stirred a mix of emotions in the listeners. Obviously, nobody wanted to do such harm to someone they all saw as a child, and not as a threat.

“That’s all nonsense—there’s no way a human would ever come back as a mon! I’m sure someone, maybe even this Anne girl, filled her mind with some confused fantasies!” Lumi roared. His point was blatantly incorrect, infuriatingly so.

The Decidueye’s eye twitched as the Mismagius shook in place, his usually crooked smile almost entirely straightened into a scowl. The Luxray wasn’t just wrong; he was offensively wrong. And yet, his words paled compared to what the Breloom said soon after, “If that is truly the case, and a human infiltrated our village that way, that makes that ghost a spy!”

Without skipping a beat, Sprout screeched, “SHE’S A DEAD CHILD FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

Anne slunk to hide behind Aria, as everyone else stared, stunned. They didn’t need to be psychic to know acutely that if Winnie were to say a word more, the owl would do something they would both regret. And then she’d do it as many more times as she had quills in her wings.

For once, that group included the Breloom too, making him stay quiet despite how much he wanted to shriek about intimidation. Knowing Sprout though, all she’d have responded to that claim with would’ve been ‘Good.’.

As the room reeled after that unexpected and yet not-unearned burst, the Skuntank stepped forward once more. “Somethin’ I wanna stress—both the Sage girl and Anne here are humans, ain’t they? I know Sage no longer looks like one, sorry to hear, but now that she remembers her past she’s pretty much a human in a dif’rent body, right Cypress?”

The Mismagius chewed on that idea for a moment or two, expression shifting in uncertainty. “Not exactly, but... the more human memories she regains, the closer she’ll be in personality to how she acted as a human, yes...”

“Right. She don’t look like a human, but deep down she’s still a human, and keenly wants to go back to humanity, right? Can’t blame her, she’s a child with a family. Whereas Annie here doesn’t want that, even if she could come back to humans, her soul is here, right Aria?”

Aria nodded weakly, too occupied by worry to go any further into it.

“Right! T’me, where one’s mind and soul are matters hella more than how they look. Sage’s ain’t here, Anne’s is, ain’t that all that oughta matter?”

It was a rather abstract point that many gathered either didn’t get, or didn’t want to get. Despite that, the Gardevoir still felt a few minds thinking through it once Rose scooted back in line, especially Ori and Lariat. She doubted it’d really settle in, but... she could still hope. All that she had left, really.

“That is a point of consideration, Rose, but one which still leaves unanswered security concerns,” Ana argued. “Nobody else who leaves us does so with such a direct intent of joining humanity. Even absent any malice, I imagine her family to want to know what happened while she was away. We ought to act to ensure she does not compromise our safety.”

The Torkoal had to catch her breath after barreling out so many words in a row, all of them sounding like a variation on a theme of rocks scraping against one another. Her even considering allowing something like that came as a surprise to some—but not all, especially not the scouts with children. The Fire-type being fond of little ones was such a badly kept secret many present would’ve been surprised to know she still vehemently denied it.

“Malice is certainly absent from her... from what I sensed, she hasn’t felt comfortable in our midst unless interacting with our dear Anne. I doubt she’ll cling to our village in her memories...” Cypress reassured.

“But the risk remains,” Torkoal summed up.

“That it does...”

“Excising the memories of her stay here sounds like a preferred option, then.”

Aria hated the sound of that. Even beyond memory manipulation at this scale having grown disgusting for her over the past few days, doing so with someone so young brought its own risks. Fortunately, she wasn’t alone in disagreeing, Cypress soon continuing, “Alas, not. It was here where she remembered her past. To wipe her mind of what she had seen here would wrest those memories out of her grasp once more, would it not...?”

The Gardevoir had no idea, and that by itself was enough to make it too risky to consider. “^I don’t know, and I’d rather not find out the hard way.^”

Aria wasn’t as worried about the Phantump accidentally spilling something, especially with whoever she’d tell being unlikely to believe her, but... she couldn’t dismiss it entirely.

Thankfully, there were more options beyond nothing and the unthinkable. “^If I may, I have an idea that might be well suited for Sage’s specific circumstances. Instead of removing the memories from her mind entirely, we could put a minor compulsion on her to discourage her from bringing them up. She would still remember them, but would find them boring, and she wouldn’t think about them often.^”

Aria hoped her brother wouldn’t call her out on her bluff. What she’d just described was possible, but it wasn’t something she had any practice doing. It was more so her old clan’s forte, often deployed against any humans living nearby. Fortunately, the Gallade just nodded along, not thinking much of his sister’s doubts.

“But she would still remember, there would still be a risk—” Ori argued.

Before he could finish rehashing his earlier point, though, a flash of Sprout’s glare stopped him in his tracks as Marco reminded, “^We can’t avoid all risk short of burying ourselves in a pit and rotting away.^”

Marco’s point drew glares, accurate as it was. Not the thing anyone here enjoyed thinking about, but it was their fate. They didn’t have the blessing of safety and certainty many humans did, and yet they had to keep going. Step by step, into the agonizing unknown of tomorrow.

As Aria dwelled on her earlier thoughts, more non-emotional arguments against dabbling in memory manipulation kept coming to her, making her follow up on her brother’s words, “^Not even cutting those memories whole would’ve granted us that kind of safety, either. Just think about what had happened with Ember. Cinder had tried her absolute hardest to erase only very specific parts of her memories, it appeared like it worked... but after an entire year, we still managed to uncover them.^”

The Scizor shuddered at the many flaws of a tool they had staked so much of their safety on being pointed out. It was easy to thoughtlessly point to the psychics when it came time to handle something dangerous or clean up after an incident. What was much harder, though, was coming up with an alternative.

“^Taking away Sage’s or Anne’s memories wouldn’t just be cruel, it would almost certainly backfire,^” Aria explained. “^They’d know something had happened, they’d quickly figure out there’s a hole in their recollection they can’t retrieve anything out of. There wouldn’t even be any distraction, or deterrent of the tampered memories being traumatic, as in Ember’s case.^”

Marco picked up from where his sister had left off, “^It’s hard to overstate just how stressful a realization like that is, too. Ember had only clued into something being wrong with her memory, and it immediately reduced her to a nervous wreck that could barely speak. I can only imagine how much worse it’d be in case of Sage or Anne, when it’s everything from a few, very important days.^”

“^And even on a purely pragmatic level, their reactions would only draw attention to their memories having been tampered with. And as I’ve said earlier, any Psychic will able to figure that one out,^” Aria shuddered. Anne felt a sensation of a warm blanket being wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to the Gardevoir as she continued, “^The reason we’ve been using memory manipulation in the past is that it’s very effective with short, recent events. It’s very easy to make someone un-see something they glimpsed but weren’t meant to, and send them on their way. The more you have to remove, the more difficult and messier it gets. Past a certain point, all you’re doing is inflicting needless harm.^”

The gentle, petting touch along the girl’s head made her body relax even as her mind remained on high alert and as Aria continued, “^We’re far past that point with both Anne and Sage, and I refuse to enact that kind of suffering.^”

“^And so do I.^”

There wasn’t a shred of doubt in the telepathic voices of either sibling.

Aria still doubted whether it’d be enough, though. After all, not having access to a ‘merciful’ solution might’ve only encouraged the particularly paranoid to instead consider maintaining it with the blood of the innocents.

Winnie wanted to shout at this blatant insubordination—he was the authority; how dare the scouts just disobey them like that? His eyes drilled into Aria’s, into Marco’s, but he kept himself from screeching for now—after all, he was still confident the rest of his council would back him up should it come down to it.

And Aria worried about much the same.

Before either their temper or their fear would bloom into something more drastic, though, one last voice interrupted the quiet, “I have one more point, regarding dear Anne...”

The Torkoal blinked, snapping herself out of her daze before letting the ghost continue.

“I worry about staying here posing a risk. Not to us, but to her. With how many of us think humans on the whole to be evil without redemption, great harm may come to her should anyone act on those thoughts...”

Aria’s psychic embrace grew even tighter, making it downright hard to move for the girl. Cypress wasn’t wrong; it was a terrifying possibility which they’d never be able to eliminate, short of talking with every single villager one-on-one.

She wasn’t the only one that felt a chill at the Mismagius’ words, only adding to her fear. Yes, there was a risk, but it paled compared to the certainty of further suffering should Anne return to the human world. A risk they’ve been fighting against for a while now, and which they wouldn’t stop trying to manage—but would it be enough to sway those that saw the alternative as guaranteed safety?

Her breaths grew shallow as she tried to keep a grasp on herself, the tent falling into deep silence around her. For the first time in hours, nobody had anything left to add, finally passing the discussion back to the Elders.

And there was one Elder in particular that wanted to put her plan into action. “If nobody wishes to broach a new subject, I would want to lead, and translate, a conversation between Anne and the Elders directly, on our own,” Celia explained, bringing confusion to those not present at the previous hearing, and uncertainty to the rest. Nobody, not even the other Elders, had any idea what she was planning.

Aria was this close to refusing entirely, to snapping back against the cruel order and not letting the human girl leave her side. It was a doomed idea, and she was well aware, but... she could at least ask. “^What will the purpose of that discussion be?^”

“That is for us Elders to know, not you—” Winnie began, before the Primarina cut him off.

“Its purpose is for us three to ask Anne some personal questions. Nothing more, nothing less,” Celia explained, unflinching even as she stared straight into the Gardevoir. Her eyes were thoughtful, but Aria couldn’t sense any lies within them. No lies, no malice. Either the Primarina was even better at hiding her true intentions than they all thought, or she was speaking the truth.

Something told Aria it was the former, but a hunch was all she had.

“If there are no further questions, I want to ask you all to leave,” the Water-type continued. “It will not take long.”

Anne flinched at seeing the blurs corresponding to the mons stand up and heading for the tent’s entrance, one after another. Was this it, was it all done? It couldn’t have been, right? “~Wh-what’s happening?~” she asked, nervous.

“^The—the Elders want to talk to you directly, Anne, with nobody else present. I’ll be right outside, but I won’t let them hurt you.^”

The possibility of being hurt didn’t calm the human down any. She remembered the Gardevoir telling her about this earlier, but that didn’t help with how scary it sounded. “~O-okay... What do they want from me?~”

Aria shuddered as she stood up to leave, the last one to do so. Without her fellow scouts, the tent looked hungry, terrifying even for her. “^I don’t know,^” she whispered, exiting the tent soon after.

As the Gardevoir made her leave, a gust of icy wind snuck its way in from the outside. It made Anne shudder, but it wasn’t all that big–certainly not big enough to have blown out the central firepit. She saw the white-blue blur—the one corresponding to the unknown ‘Elder’—do something right before the fire went out, but they probably just moved to get comfortable.

Because what reasons would they have to just blow the fire out like that?

Regardless of what exactly had happened, the tent was now shrouded in almost complete darkness. Anne kept anxiously touching her glasses just in case as she tried to discern anything around her. Nothing but smoldering cinders, nothing but the dim glow emanating from the holes in the Torkoal’s shell. Just barely enough to make out the silhouettes of the three mons in here with her.

Three mons, each more than capable of killing her before she could react, and one her, blind and defenseless.

Anne wanted to hide, she wanted to get out of here, to do all the pathetic things she did when Aria first revealed herself to her—anything but face the threats before her. But she knew she couldn’t. There wouldn’t be anyone that swooped in and suddenly brought her refuge, not this time.

She only barely had the courage to keep looking in the Elders’ direction as the tent grew colder, so much colder. Without the mons, without the fire, without Aria’s intervention, whatever meager heat that had built up was draining through the walls fast, and the blanket she was wrapped up in could only do so much.

Before she knew it, she was shaking in her seat as nothing kept happening. No words; no actions; no motion. Only her, the strangers, and the silent, freezing dark.

And then, at last, a low, grinding sound. It came from the direction of the mons, but sounded so inanimate Anne didn’t believe it could be speech. Moments later, the Torkoal picked themselves up, and slowly approached her, glowing spots moving along with them.

Anne remained frozen in fear as the mon drew near, bringing warmth with themselves. Not leaning into it was hard, but doing so was even scarier. Was she about to be scorched alive—

“~She say, ‘come warm yourself’, Anne,~” a smooth, feminine voice spoke. It was awkward, accented so heavily she had a hard time making some words out—but it was clearly speaking in Unovan. Even with it, Anne didn’t dare move, the words making barely any sense.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to. The Torkoal set themselves down beside her as the stranger continued, “~Can now put glass on, Anne.~”

As pleasant as the voice was to the ear, it remained entirely flat as it spoke. Its instructions took a while to click. Anne’s hand shook as it lifted the damaged, slightly dirty specs to her eyes, transforming a featureless blur into physical space.

One with a Torkoal laying down right beside her, exhaling tiny puffs of smoke with each breath, and two other mons in the distance—a cross Breloom, and the unknown, injured one. As the words kept coming, Anne realized that the latter mon was their source. “~My name, Celia. One next you, Ana. One next me, Winnie. We want question ask you.~”

The names came in one ear and out the other; the girl’s mind focused entirely on what came afterwards. It matched what Aria had told her earlier, but... it couldn’t have been really it, right? Even if it wasn’t, though, the girl doubted she would’ve gained anything out of not cooperating. “~O-okay. Wh-what kind of question?~”

Once Celia acknowledged her words, she spoke again, this time in what sounded like animal voices mixed with gibberish. Smooth, pleasant gibberish, but still entirely unknown in content—

Any thoughts about what she’d just heard were cut off by another voice speaking up. She had no more of an idea what it meant, but it terrified her, especially with the Breloom it came from breaking out into a rant. Their stretchy arms moved every which way as they stared at her, fierce anger dripping from every gesture. One almost certainly aimed at her too, making it even harder to do anything but sit and stare in frozen horror.

The Torkoal shifting themselves to put their body between the Grass-type and her helped a bit, though.

Eventually, the deluge of angry sounds was finally cut off by the Fire-type muttering a short sentence in their grinding voice. What happened; Anne had no idea, and hoped that Celia would explain to her. “~No worth speak. ...Almost no. Question, one.~”

Anne’s fate was in her own hands, and she could barely feel them.

“~How we know you no run away, no tell other human, if stay?~”

...

The girl squinted as she made sense of the words, unsure what the point of being asked that was. She had a decent grip on what the question was, but not why that one as opposed to any other. Still, her role here was to answer them, not to wonder on whether they made any sense—and the answer here was simple.

“~Wh-why would I run away? I-if I stayed here, I wouldn’t have a-any other home. And if I told anyone, bad things would happen to this place, and I don’t want that, I don’t want to hurt Aria and Ember and everyone else...~”

Thankfully, she wasn’t asked for an elaboration. The aquatic-looking mon simply nodded, and passed her words on, staring straight at the Torkoal as she spoke. The Breloom—Winnie?—grumbled something at hearing them, not helping Anne’s courage any, but nobody else reacted to it.

“~Thank, Anne. Now, my question,~” Celia continued.

Anne gave her a timid nod, taking as deep a breath as her young lungs were capable of.

“~Know you how human world hurt here many?~”

Far from everything about it, but... she did. The thought brought both sadness and further worry with it; the latter about being held accountable for how other humans have hurt the villagers. It wasn’t her fault, but... it was her kin’s sin.

“~I-I do. I’ve heard of the League getting rid o-of places like these where—where many mons lived. I don’t want that to happen here, b-but I know it has in other places. M-my father used to watch League. I saw how badly the mons got hurt in it, I heard how awful he talked about mons, I-I know how many other people talked about mons, the bad things they said. I-I—~” Anne’s voice trailed off as she desperately tried to maintain a grip on her own emotions. She hesitated to keep going, to reveal that blemish on herself, but hoped, deep inside, that her honesty wouldn’t be punished. “~I used to believe in some of them, t-too. I don’t, I can’t anymore, n-not after knowing everyone here, but I did. A-and I’m really sorry for that.~”

The girl was afraid to look at the rest of the tent as her answer was passed on. Predictably, more rambling from the Breloom, but nothing from the Torkoal. She expected to hear some emotion in Celia’s voice, anything, but... it remained entirely flat. No relief, no admonishment. Just choking, obscuring neutrality. “~Thank, Anne.~”

A few moments of silence followed as the marine mon stared intently at the Fire-type, with Anne joining her soon after. Guess it was time for the question from her impromptu personal heater. Their sluggish, scraping words took a while to come together, and even once they did, they seemed to have taken their translator aback, if only for a second.

“~Now, Ana question.~”

Once more, an overlong moment of silence, Anne’s anxiety growing by the second—

“~What Aria is to you?~”

...

Anne blinked as she chewed through the simple, and yet so complex question. There were so many ways it could’ve been interpreted in, and there was no indication at all which of them she was supposed to take. Maybe she was just supposed to say them all?

“~She...~”

Even then, it was... difficult. So incredibly difficult, especially with the crushing weight of knowing that she had no idea how much more time she had left with the Gardevoir. The details would’ve been beyond the ability of something as simple as words to convey even on a good day, but...

The gist of it was clear even now.

“~She’s someone that cares for me. Someone that—that makes me feel safe. L-like nobody has ever since my g-grandma passed away. S-someone...~”

Even if it remained so, so painful for her to admit to herself.

“~...that I-I wish could be my mom.~”

There was no stopping the tears that followed. All Anne could do was delay them until she’d finished speaking, but they took their toll all the same. She could tell Celia took her time to translate her response, and that her flat voice hitched a few times as she did so, but that aside, there was no reaction from the trio of mons.

Fortunately, in the case of the Breloom, but for the other two... she didn’t know.

And then, the marine Elder spoke in Unovan one last time, “~Thank, Anne. That is all.~”

The girl flinched at the sudden light in her peripheral vision as she got a grip on herself. It was just the firepit getting lit once more. The Torkoal took one more moment admiring their handiwork, before heading back to the other two.

Guess these really were just questions.

“Thank you all for your cooperation. You may now return.”

Before Celia could even finish her sentence, Aria was already back inside the tent, kneeling beside Anne. She didn’t even try to maintain her composure, eyes clenched shut as she held the girl tight just to the side of her chest horn. She heard it all; it was impossible not to have heard it all.

She didn’t know what to say, and so she said nothing, comforting the girl as her tears returned as well. One by one, the other scouts made their way back into the tent, all of them having no choice but to pass by the tearful Gardevoir holding the human tight. Some wanted to offer their own comfort. Some could only look away.

“Does anyone wish to say anything before we proceed to the vote?” Ana asked, voice even more somber than before.

One ‘no’ after another called back in response to her words—until only one remained. The Torkoal waited for the Gardevoir to get the cue; wanted to let her process her emotions without being rushed along, but it soon became apparent that some prodding would be necessary. These weren’t the thoughts that could just be processed and squared away, and yet it was precisely what the procedure demanded.

“Aria?” the Torkoal prodded.

The Gardevoir couldn’t toss them, she didn’t want to toss them, but she had to at least delay them for just that bit longer. In the best-case scenario, for just a few more minutes. In the worst...

“^N-n-no,^” she muttered, “^p-please, proceed.^”

Letting go of Anne was the most excruciating thing Aria had done in her life, and yet she had to. Her psychic embrace held the girl tight, but she knew it might have faltered soon. “^I-it’s time for the vote, Anne.^”

As the crying child nodded in affirmation, the Torkoal continued with the procedure, “Following our discussion, I believe it prudent for there to be three separate, independent votes.^”

Twelve pairs of eyes drilled into the Torkoal, some in fear, some through tears.

“The first vote would concern letting Anne remain with us indefinitely. The second vote would concern her ultimate fate should she be allowed to remain here, between fully joining the village and being expected to return to humanity one day. The third... would concern what is to be done with the ‘Olive’ human whom Marco allowed to keep her memories. If anyone has objections or different ideas, please raise them now.”

Aria’s fist clenched at the thought of Anne’s safety being handled in such a piecemeal way, only barely keeping her words in her head before a different way to look at it hit her. If the tides of her fellow scouts would decree she be allowed to stay here indefinitely, they’d be able to argue against any future cruelty another day, and she’ll be safe for now at least—

If.

Aria swept the room with her mind and eyes alike, and saw, felt, only uncertainty and fear. Even those she had trusted to do the right thing were suddenly much less sure than they once were. She was terrified.

“No objections, then. Winnie, proceed.”

The Gardevoir stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes as the Breloom reached into a small basket behind himself and pulled out a fistful of shriveled pieces of something pink. She already hated this part of the voting process, and the present circumstances made it even worse. Orion’s own idea, one of the few she never agreed with.

“^A-Anne, close your eyes and hold them closed, o-okay? Th-this smoke stings bad,^” she instructed.

Before the girl could ask what her guardian meant, Winnie dropped the dried Payapa into the hole at the top of the Torkoal’s shell. In moments, the fruit had turned into a cloud of bright, biting smoke, forcing almost everyone’s eyes closed as it cut off the siblings’ psychic auras. There were few sensations more uncomfortable than the suffocating claustrophobia of having one’s psychics be forced entirely back into their head, but that was the point.

The Zoroark had stressed the point of anonymity with votes like these, and cutting off everyone’s sight and psychics was one way of easily enforcing it with him gone. Or rather, almost everyone’s. Someone had to count the votes, be that impartial observer, after all.

A weak, high-pitched cough interrupted the misty silence, making Aria blindly feel around before holding the girl closer. “~I-it-*cough*-it hurts to breathe...~”

Even telepathy felt almost impossible, forced to be channeled entirely through the Gardevoir’s limbs. Anne’s words hurt, for there was nothing her guardian could do to help—they all just had to endure it. “^Breathe through the blanket sweetie, it won’t be long, I promise.^”

The makeshift filter helped a little, but it was just barely enough to let Anne stabilize her breathing—the end was in sight.

“May we proceed.”

“Y-yes-*cough*, Elder Ana.”

The Gardevoir wasn’t any better at dealing with the biting smoke than the human, but she was more used to it. Her arms shook with stress and body in exhaustion as the Fire-type stepped forward, speaking up as loudly as she could, “The first vote, then. Should Anne, the human in our midst, be permitted to remain in our village indefinitely, until, at the very least, returning her to the human world in a safe way becomes possible.”

Tears streaked Aria’s hand as it shot up, signaling a ‘for’ vote. Another of Orion’s ideas, taken in some unclear extent from humanity. Up meant ‘for’, touching the ground meant ‘against’, keeping the limb pulled back meant abstaining from answering.

The tent remained in perfect silence as Ana gathered the votes, one after another. No words were permitted, no words were spoken. Muttered gasps, shaking, barely veiled anger—but no words. Until, at last, the vote was done.

“Thank you.”

Aria dragged her hand back, the limb aching at being held for so long. No answers, no reprieve until all votes were done to not skew the results. Another of oh-so-many elements of forced procedure the Zoroark had tried to put together in the latter years of his life, to put form and structure into what was obviously just a personally appointed clique.

“The second vote. Should Anne, the human in our midst, be permitted to join our village as a regular citizen, with all rights and privileges that entails. If not, she will be expected to return to the human world once that becomes a safe possibility.”

Once more, Aria’s arm shot up, and once more, barely any sound came from the rest of the tent. Many tiny rustles of fur shuffling against itself, of creaking joints, all familiar but not enough to match them to any gesture in particular. Turned so utterly terrifying.

“Thank you.”

Aria forgot how awful this cursed smoke made her feel every time, her balance growing weak. No voting sessions were ever this long in this tense and worn down a state. It didn’t feel like justice; it felt like an experiment in cruelty established without enough foresight, one of the many snap ideas that didn’t work out.

“The third vote. Should Olive, the human living at the nearby human settlement, be allowed to keep her memories and awareness of Aria’s and Lumi’s intervention, and of our village, with an understanding that she would then help us by providing human-specific knowledge.”

As perilous as the first two votes already felt, Aria had a hard time gathering even a shred of hope for the last one. It made logical sense—Marco had shown that clearly—but none of this was about rational argumentation. Of course it wasn’t, it could never be—it didn’t just concern Olive; it concerned them all.

To ally with a human, to take their knowledge in, was both something much of the village considered unthinkable, but which would also force them all to act. Whether or not they wanted to, everyone present was now acutely aware of how much danger their home was in, the kind they could neither fight against nor hide from.

To answer ‘yes’; was to admit that they couldn’t persist in spite of humanity through their sheer ingenuity forever. To answer ‘yes’; was to admit they had to leave this little space they had managed to carve out—not today, not tomorrow, but eventually. To answer ‘yes’; was to permit a human to indirectly steer their fate by helping them maneuver what to do next.

To answer ‘yes’; was to admit defeat.

To answer ‘no’; was to look away, to close one’s eyes, to pretend nothing was wrong. To blindly hope the threat would never manifest.

Aria kept her hand up, and she was nigh-certain there weren’t more than a couple of others doing so with her. Of course this vote wouldn’t pass; the little hope she had wouldn’t let her believe that, and yet, she remained defiant, until the very end.

For that was the only right thing to do.

“Thank you.”

Her hand fell down to her lap as she tried not to weep. She was doing the right thing; she knew that. She would fight for Anne, for Ember, for Sage, for Olive forever. If need be, she would wake her family, take everything they had with themselves, and leave this very night. If she had to, she would protect Olive personally, but—

It hurt; it was so much, too much. She didn’t want to do any of that, to put herself in harm’s way. She just wanted to be safe. She just wanted them all to be safe. Her posture shriveled as she held the girl close; tense silence and the return of warmth having only sped up her exhaustion.

Seconds passed as her mind wound itself up tighter. Her heart threatened to burst through her ribs and spill its contents onto everyone present, screech and strike at them for ever daring to consider taking Anne’s safety away—

And then; at last, came the sentencing.

“The results of the first vote. Nine votes ‘for’, one vote ‘against’, three votes abstaining. Vote passes.”

...

Wait...

“The results of the second vote. Six votes ‘for’, two votes ‘against’, five votes abstaining. Vote passes.”

...

...

Is it...

“The results of the third vote... S-seven votes ‘for’, six votes ‘against’. Vote passes. I hope you all know what you’re doing.”

And then; it was over.

A cold gust went through the tent as the Torkoal pulled aside the smaller flap at the back. Within moments, the white smoke began to thin, making it easier and easier to breathe and see as the results hit everyone gathered, one after another.

They were defeated, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t forge a new fate.

Anne was safe.

Anne was safe.

Anne was safe.

ANNE WAS SAFE.

A howling cry left Aria as she pulled the child beside her into her arms. Unconscious, asleep, the vote had drained the girl of any ounce of strength she had left after everything she’d been subjected to today. But she didn’t have to be strong anymore. Aria didn’t have to be strong anymore.

Anne was safe.

The Gardevoir didn’t react as she felt her brother’s hand on her back, and then her friend’s wing. Tears and cries of release kept coming; her utterly exhausted mind kept letting out all the fear that had accumulated in it over the past few days.

Anne was safe.

No more fear, no more uncertainty, only a drained, brilliant love—

“This is an OUTRAGE!” Winnie screeched, drawing glares of fury and shock alike. The Breloom was too drunk on his own anger to notice as he continued, “Ana, this has to be a mistake! Are you certain of the—”

“ARE YOU CALLING MY OBJECTIVITY INTO QUESTION,” the Torkoal did the closest thing she could to shouting.

“Yours and everyone else’s! This THING may have driven you all mad, but I won’t fall for its foul curse! Orion be my witness, I shall do what is right to keep us all safe, I SHALL—”

*BWOOOOOM!*

In an instant, Winnie was launched through the tent’s wall, tearing it in half. He tumbled once he’d landed on the snowy ground, sliding until hitting the brick wall of Holly’s pantry. Untold eyes drilled into him as he twitched; tried to spit out more words through his bruised, bleeding grimace,

Before finally fainting; alive if broken.

Once the dust cleared, everyone’s gaze bounced back the other way, silent and aghast—and only found the Primarina, still glaring at the spot her fellow Elder had just been Moonblasted out of.

A moment passed in silence, another. Celia shuddered and blinked, before returning to her previous spot, not sparing the hole in the tent she’d just tore open even a fleeting glance. Instead, her gaze swept over everyone else, attentive as always, while her lips mouthed words for nobody to hear. 

Nobody knew how to react, but it was safe enough to say that the council proceedings were over.

One by one, onlookers approached the aftermath, shock giving way to murmurs about what the hell just happened, both with Winnie, and for the Primarina to have done that. Among all the built-up curiosity outside, though, there was one fox in particular that wanted to know something else.

Ember’s white shawl stood out among the crowd as she pushed through it, stumbling into the damaged tent with Anne’s name in her maw. Scouts moved aside for her, letting her stumble towards her friend before dropping onto her knees in exhaustion and joining Aria’s embrace. “I-i-is Anne s-safe?” she woofed, afraid and exhausted.

The Gardevoir had no strength left for words, physical or mental alike, nodding in silence as she wept. It was all the Braixen needed for tearful joy to grip her too, make her huddle even closer to her human, hold her even tighter.

Anne was safe, and they could all rest.

As Ember dozed off beside her friend, on the very edge of unconsciousness, she felt them both be picked up and moved somewhere. Time lost all meaning as they were gently carried, and only when she was finally laid down on something soft did she pry her eyes open one more time.

She saw her mom tucking her in, Anne beside her, and Mrs. Aria in a bed next to theirs,

And fell asleep, safe at last.

---