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 boiler room was a metallic jungle of copper pipes and bronzed cogs. Rolling clouds of sweltering fog filled the air. Pistons clinked and clanked in the darkness. The steam engine growled and hissed and purred in a clunky, uneven rhythm. Sizzling flames danced atop black as night coals, lighting up the area in fire-red hues.
Water condensed on the piping attached overhead and dripped onto the deck. The puddle below reflected the orange-tinted scene, attracting the attention of a small Pokémon. Gracie scurried to the water and sniffed it. Deciding it was safe, she dipped her head and lapped a mouthful.
"Mar."
Gracie jumped, startled. She looked up to see Nuri staring at her with her bill sealed in a frown. Unlike Gracie whose leaves were sticking to her pelt, the Magmar was unbothered by the heat. Nuri tossed her head and grunted. Gracie quickly left.
The outdoors were much cooler, chilling the sweat coating Gracie's body. She shook herself free of perspiration and shivered. This wouldn't do. She hunched down, wriggled her haunches, and locked her gaze on the door to the lower levels. A cold gust swept across the deck.
Like the wind, she cried in determination and darted ahead.
Her paws slid smoothly across the wood. Too smoothly. The soft fur covering the pads of her feet failed to gain traction. Gracie gasped, realizing this too late. She squealed as she slammed against the wall, causing strange shapes to swirl in her vision.
What was that?
Gracie recognized the raspy voice amidst her confusion. She shook her head yet again and followed the sound of it, leading her to the sleeping quarters. Inside the room, Omar slept on a hammock while August and Cyryl rested atop bedrolls on the floor. However, the former was wide awake, sitting upright and staring at Gracie where she stood in the threshold.
"Sorry," Gracie said, trotting to her side. She climbed into August's lap, nestling herself into the blanket. "I ran into the wall."
August sighed, running her fingers through Gracie's foliage. You should be sleeping, not running. You're not a Hoothoot.
The Shaymin tilted her head. "What's a Hoothoot?"
Hoothoot are bird Pokémon.
"Like Pidge?"
Aye, like Pidge. August's lips quirked. But Hoothoot are night Pokémon: they sleep all day an' play at night.
