In a world full of floating islands, sky pirates, exiled magicians, and Pokémon, peace is difficult to maintain.
Shaymin, kind Pokémon who'd guided travelers once man learned how to fly, were hunted to extinction for their Gracideas: magical flowers...
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The pale moon cast gentle rays of light onto White Lightning's deck, masking the ship in different shades of blue. Aquamarine, turquoise, lapis, sapphire. None of these seemed quite as blue as a certain pirate felt.
August held onto Gracie and gazed at the stars, unable to sleep. She refused to leave the deck no matter how much the frost-laced gusts chilled her to the bone. Instead, she hugged Gracie tighter to her chest.
The guilt of sending the Zoroark's Deceit's sailing paths to Patel ate away at her conscience. If Calico didn't have enough reason to kill August before, she did now. The idea nauseated August, spinning her head and twisting her gut. Karma would come for her.
She hated this. She hated feeling helpless. She hated how Calico needn't be present to revert her back into a sniveling eleven-year-old. She hated Calico, she swore she did. Calico ruined her life!
August's thoughts stumbled, and she repeated silently, Calico ruined my life. She pursed her lips. Not... not me. Calico. And Father. And Shannon.
They ruined her life because they dictated it. They were the ones who set guarded barriers around her. They were the reason she never felt like she truly belonged anywhere.
No amount of Wes' nor Vespiquen's could mend their blows.
August sighed and watched the white puff from her lips drift away. Emotions weakened a man; she'd seen it time and time again aboard the Zoroark's Deceit. They were what murdered Wes and drove Calico to madness.
She focused on the midnight sky, finding solace in the twinkling stars' presence. When she was younger, she would climb out of her window to stargaze with Vespiquen. Now she had Gracie who was fast asleep in her lap. August grimaced; it wasn't the same.
⚔️
The company reached Ashwind Town the following morning. Omar requested that August wait nearby as he helped his family settle into his step-uncle's home, swearing he'd sail her anywhere she'd like afterward. She agreed, not like she had much choice, and hunted down the closest tavern to forget the night before.
August's brows raised; there were already other people occupying the cramped establishment. She'd expected it to be empty akin to Tranquelum. A dozen men—shipbuilders, she figured—paused what they were doing to look at her and Cyryl. August nodded, and they returned to their businesses.
Sensing Cyryl cowering behind her, August said, "Pay them no attention. You'll cause trouble acting weird."
Cyryl's voice hushed to a whisper, "That may be so, but you were fortunate enough not to be born a magician."
"Start acting normal an' they won't be able to tell." She shoved zir off her side. "Stay off o' me, brat."
August ordered three drinks from the tavern-keeper then led Cyryl to a secluded table in a dim corner. She downed her first tankard in one go with her eyes squeezed shut. Honchkrow's silhouette against the full moon appeared. Her teeth gnashed together. Why did the world insist on invading her thoughts?
