The air smelled like summer rain, even though the storm hadn't started yet. That charged, metallic scent that meant the sky was holding something heavy and hadn't decided where to drop it.
The boy stood on the cracked basketball court behind the park, phone raised. The AR map glowed against the deepening dusk. A cartoon Pidgeot circled the digital outline of his avatar, wings clipping through the virtual sky.
"Last round before we call it?" Drew shouted. Loud as always. Competitive. Sweat-dark shirt, even in the cool.
"You're just scared I'll wipe your whole team again," the boy said, grinning.
"You wish!" Kai called from the bench. He spun in place, phone held out like a divining rod. "Server lagged when I threw my Poké Ball. That loss doesn't count."
"It counts when the game says Defeat."
Their laughter bounced off the empty court.
They'd been here every weekend since the new AR expansion dropped—scanning gyms, tossing virtual Poké Balls, pretending it all mattered more than it did.
For him, though, it kind of did.
He didn't catch everything. Never had. He built teams that felt right. Partners. Not trophies. Catching them all felt wrong, like stuffing something alive into a drive and forgetting it existed.
"Hey, let's go!" Drew said, already wheeling his bike toward the path. "Diner before the rain hits. You in?"
"In a sec."
The boy flicked another Poké Ball. A Vulpix blinked into existence, then vanished in a burst of pixel confetti as the phone chirped its success.
"I'll catch up."
"Suit yourself," Kai said. "Try not to get struck by lightning."
The boy laughed. "Yeah. Because that happens."
They rolled off toward the streetlights, voices fading. He stayed where he was.
Clouds were pushing in from the west, low and bruised, flashes of light crawling inside them. Storm clouds that growled instead of cracked.
He slid his phone into his pocket.
It kept glowing.
The Pidgeot still hovered in the corner of the screen, wings beating slowly.
"That's… not right."
Static prickled up his arm. He shook the phone. The battery jumped—80%. Zero. Full.
The ground shuddered.
Lightning split the horizon. The clouds lit up for a split second, and something in them felt wrong. Not weather. Not just electricity.
"Cool," he muttered. "Very immersive."
He turned toward the exit path, then stopped.
The AR gym marker above the hoop was pulsing now. Brighter. Too bright.
The air rippled. Not rain, more like light, droplets hanging for a second too long, glowing faint blue before fading.
His phone buzzed.
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
"What challenge...?"
The screen glitched.
The Pidgeot stretched, its model tearing apart, and then it screamed. Not the tinny game cry. Something deeper. Metallic. Distant.
He stepped back. "Nope. I'm done."
The air felt thick now. Humming. Pressing against his chest.
Lightning hit again, closer. Thunder followed instantly, rattling the court.
The map flickered.
For half a second, the park vanished.
In its place: towers. Forests. Oceans. Pokémon moving far in the distance, too large, too solid to be AR.
His stomach dropped.
The sky split open.
Not one bolt, but dozens—white veins crawling downward, branching, searching. The hum swelled until it drowned out everything else. His hair lifted. His skin buzzed like it was coming apart.
He looked at his phone.
No pixels now. Just a symbol, glowing gold—a circle with a tail, slowly rotating.
It pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
CRACK.
White swallowed the world.
There was no ground. No air. Just sound and light and the feeling of being unmade.
Something vast moved in the brightness. Not seen—felt. Thunder without noise. Data without shape.
A voice echoed through it, distant and old.
Balance lost. Worlds merged. Vessel found.
Another followed. Softer. Curious.
This one still dreams.
He tried to speak. There was nothing left that knew how.
Images tore through him—wings of light, a gleaming tail, an eye that looked straight through him. A heartbeat that wasn't his.
The light folded, pulling him down through clouds that weren't clouds at all.
Then—
Cold rain.
Grass under his hands.
Smoke.
He opened his eyes. The park was there again, or close enough. The hoop stood black against the sky. His phone lay nearby, shattered, its screen still faintly lit.
One last notification blinked.
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.
He reached for it.
His fingers passed through empty air.
"What—?"
Wind tore across the court. Lightning flared, and for a heartbeat he saw it—high in the storm. A long, feline tail curling through the light. Eyes calm. Endless.
Everything blurred.
Do not fear, child. Your journey begins anew.
Light swallowed the park.
And the boy was gone.