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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Omar swore he was navigating a real-life nightmare. When he'd chased after Cyryl and August, he hadn't expected to come across absolute carnage. He'd frozen in place as he'd watched his companions engage in combat, too fearful to act. It wasn't until August plummeted into the lake when his senses came to and he dove after her in a blind rescue.
After hauling the unconscious pirate out of the water, he'd seen Cyryl battling the winged magician. The teen fought with the bravery Omar lacked; his instincts withheld him from combat, telling himself he had to stay put to help August. So he called out for Pidge. The newly evolved Pidgeotto arrived just in time to deliver a finishing blow with a solid Brave Bird attack.
Blood roared in Omar's ears as everything sunk in. Unconscious bodies belonging to those he cared for littered the marshy shore. Was this outcome not his fault? Had he taken action, would the gore be lesser? Despair surged over him in the form of nausea. He squeezed his eyes shut and nearly got sick, the awful feeling plaguing his being.
The crackle of thunder and gust of freezing rain snapped him back to reality. With Pidge's assistance, Omar managed to carry August, Cyryl, and the attacker into the thicket. Pidge reappeared with a Xatu, dropping the Psychic- and Flying-type beside the attacker. Omar carefully tied zir and zir master to a stump and assigned Pidge to guard duty as he tended to everyone's injuries.
Scarlet stained the evergreen landscape, seeping from more sources than Omar could handle. August's gaping foot. Cyryl's mutilated face. That attacker's broken nose. No matter how tightly he bandaged these wounds, the red hues always overtook the white.
Omar's features hardened to stone as he tried to patch Cyryl's face. Zie bled the worst. Three jagged cuts ran from zir nose to zir right temple with the deepest of the gashes carved into zir upper cheek. The damage zir eye suffered made Omar fumble; he wasn't sure zir eye was even salvageable.
His anxiety prickled with frustration. He clenched his jaw and told Pidge, "Go find Lang, please." Yes, he was the one who told her to stay behind to protect Gracie, but it seemed like the nurse had disappeared entirely. She should've located them by now.
Regret haunted Omar's conscience as he waited for Lang's arrival. He tried to ignore it by counting the supplies he'd brought three times over. His guilt ceased his mindless actions. Deep inside, he knew his lack of medicines wasn't the problem. What he should've done was help Cyryl and August fight to keep their party safe.
The shipbuilder swallowed thickly and bit his inner cheek, at war with the morals he was raised with. He hated violence. Inflicting harm on others to save those he loved felt wrong. Two wrongs didn't make something right. This was unfair, the world he lived in.
His ideas hushed as Lang and Gracie stumbled into the clearing, caked in half-dried mud. All color drained from the nurse's flushed features as she took in the sight. "Oh my goodness."
