The Santa Monica airfield smelled of ocean salt, jet fuel, and adrenaline.
Wind whipped through the hangars, carrying the cry of distant Wingulls and the metallic tang of fresh engine oil. The Gym wasn't a building, so much as a full-sized runway.
Zoey shaded her eyes, watching a winged steel object streak across the sky before splitting into a high-speed roll. The sonic crack that followed rippled across the airfield, scattering dust and feathers.
Okay, she said flatly. Who brings a fighter jet to a Gym battle?
"That's not a jet," I whispered, heart already racing. "That's her Skarmory."
Before Zoey could snark, another voice cut through the wind. "You've got a good eye."
I turned and froze.
Skyla.
She was exactly as I remembered from the broadcasts: vivid red hair tied into that unmistakable high ponytail, blue pilot jacket half-unzipped over her uniform, white bow at the collar fluttering in the breeze. Her smile was easy and unguarded, the kind of confidence that made the air around her feel lighter.
Every highlight reel, every slow-motion shot of her last Olympic performance, all of it was suddenly real and standing five feet away.
"Oh. My. Arceus," I blurted before I could stop myself. "You're- You're Skyla. Like, the Skyla."
Her grin widened. "Last time I checked."
"I watched all five of your Olympic matches! The synchronized aerials with Swanna in Beijing, the triple finish in Tokyo, that 2018 dive sequence! Your form was flawless! I used to slow down the replays just to study your flight patterns!"
Zoey groaned audibly and glanced at Trilla. Oh no, she's doing the thing.
Skyla laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "That's a first. Most challengers don't even remember I used to compete."
"Are you kidding? You're the reason I even learned how to read a wind gauge!" I was rambling, I knew it, but I couldn't stop. "The way you handle air currents mid-spin-"
"-is mostly luck," she interrupted with a wink. "But I appreciate the enthusiasm."
I forced myself to breathe. "Sorry. I just... didn't think I'd actually meet you."
"Relax." She held out a hand, warm and firm. "Welcome to the Santa Monica Gym, Atrea. Lenora sent word about you. Said you've got a gift for staying calm under pressure."
I shook her hand, still half in awe. "Yeah, that's me. Calm as a Magikarp in a thunderstorm."
That earned me a genuine laugh. "You'll fit right in."
She stepped back, gesturing toward the airfield. "Standard Gym rules. I'll match your team size, and the battle ends when one side can't continue. We fight on the open runway. Hope you're not scared of heights."
"Only if I have to jump off something tall," I said, following her onto the platform.
"Then this should be interesting."
I felt a vibration under my boots as Skyla's badge drone scanned our IDs, confirming the match parameters.
A deep mechanical pulse rumbled beneath us. The ground trembled once, then lifted.
The entire tarmac platform began to rise, smooth and weightless, until we hovered nearly twenty feet above the airfield. The ocean spread beneath us like a living mirror. Around the perimeter, five silver discs unfolded from the edges and took flight, stabilizing in midair at varying heights. Each one was the size of a dining table, thrumming softly with a blue light.
"PAP's aerial equalizers," Skyla explained, her voice raised over the wind. "They let grounded Pokémon move freely in three dimensions. Can't have an unfair fight, can we?"
As if in answer, translucent energy arcs flickered into place around the battlefield, the signature shimmer of PAP shields activating. Their faint blue glow caught the sea spray, turning the air around us into a halo of light.
Zoey squinted up at the nearest disc. You've got to be kidding me. You're expecting me to jump up there?
"Think of it as cardio," I murmured, smiling faintly.
Skyla stood across from me on the opposite pad, hand on her hip, red ponytail snapping in the wind. "Three on three," she called, voice clear over the turbines. "You ready, Atrea?"
I grinned, adrenaline humming under my skin. "Born ready."
"Then let's make it a show!"
Skyla palmed a Poké Ball and tossed it skyward. The capsule burst open in a swirl of wind. A Swoobat materialized above the floating platform, its heart-shaped nose glowing faintly pink as it looped through the air with effortless grace.
Zoey stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. Cute. Let's see how long that thing flutters before it drops.
"Battle start!" the referee's voice echoed through the speakers.
Swoobat darted first, leaving a pale contrail in the air as it fired a Psybeam straight toward us. I didn't speak. Zoey was already moving. She dove left, then rolled and sprang onto the nearest hovering disc. Her boots hit metal with a solid clang. The surface tilted slightly, compensating for her weight, then stabilized.
Skyla's voice carried over the wind. "Smart move. Let's see how your Zoroark handles a moving target! Swoobat, Air Slash!"
A crescent of compressed air ripped toward Zoey. She launched herself off the disc just as it struck, the explosion scattering fragments of energy through the mist. For a heartbeat, she vanished, then reappeared behind Swoobat, riding the updraft from the blast.
Dark Pulse, I thought, sending the command across our link.
A wave of black energy erupted from her claws. She struck Swoobat square in the back and sent it spiraling downward. Skyla called out sharply, "Recover with Acrobatics!"
Swoobat righted itself mid-air and shot toward Zoey, wings glowing white. The impact sent both of them tumbling across the shield barrier before they split apart again, Zoey landing hard on another disc, Swoobat hovering just above, panting.
Zoey crouched low, her fur bristling. This isn't working. It's too quick.
I scanned the floating discs to discern their rotation and the rhythm of their movement. Then make it come to you. Use the field.
Her eyes flicked toward mine, then she smirked. Got it.
Zoey darted from platform to platform, each leap measured and deliberate. The discs responded to her momentum and shifted in altitude as she landed. Swoobat followed, firing another volley of Psybeams, but Zoey's constant movement forced it to track her erratically, burning through its stamina.
Then she stopped dead center on the highest disc.
Now!
Zoey slammed her claws into the platform. A cloud of inky smoke burst outward, swallowing everything in a dark haze.
Skyla shielded her eyes. "Swoobat, sonar sweep!"
The bat screeched, sending a wave of sound rippling through the mist. The echo bounced off the shields and discs, but before it could locate her, Zoey struck from below. She'd dropped through the smoke onto a lower disc and launched herself up with all the force she had.
Her claws glowed purple as she raked across Swoobat's side, Night Slash connecting cleanly.
The psychic type shrieked, spinning out of control before catching itself a few feet above the barrier. Its flight was shaky now, one wing trembling from the hit.
Zoey landed back on her platform, crouched and ready. Not so fast anymore, huh?
Skyla's jaw tightened. "Swoobat, Heart Stamp!"
The creature dove, trailing pink light. Zoey remained still. The second before impact, she leapt backward, and Swoobat smashed headlong into the empty disc. The blow disoriented it just long enough for Zoey to appear behind it again.
Shadow Ball, I called mentally.
The orb detonated at point-blank range. When the smoke cleared, Swoobat was tumbling through the air, unconscious. It struck the energy barrier with a faint shimmer before floating downward in defeat.
The referee raised a flag. "Swoobat is unable to battle! Victory goes to Atrea Morgan and Zoroark!"
Zoey landed lightly, her fur ruffled but eyes bright. The wind caught her mane as she smirked. That was fun. Think she's got anything faster?
Skyla whistled low, smiling despite the loss. "That was slick. You fight like a pilot, anticipation first, reaction second."
Zoey gave a lazy salute to me with two claws. Comes with a good trainer.
I called her back, grinning. Get some rest, show-off.
Skyla pulled another ball from her belt. "Alright, let's turn up the wind. Swellow, take the sky!"
It burst in a flash of white light, releasing a Swellow that cut through the sky like a razor. Its cry split the air as it circled above the floating field, wings gleaming in the afternoon sun.
"Your move," Skyla called, voice half-drowned by the wind.
I unclipped Scizor's Poké Ball, the cool metal heavy in my palm. "Alright, big guy. Time to stretch those wings."
The capsule opened, light spilling onto the platform. Scizor emerged in a low crouch, claws half-raised, the polished red of his armor reflecting the ocean below. He didn't move, didn't make a sound, just turned his head slightly, following Swellow's path through the air with steady precision.
The referee lifted his flag. "Battle begin!"
Swellow dove first, a streak of blue and white slicing toward us.
"Double Team!" Skyla shouted.
In an instant, the sky filled with Swellows. Six illusions wheeled around one another in a dizzying spiral, their wings slicing the wind in unison.
Bullet Punch.
Scizor blurred forward. His right claw shot out, silver light flashing as he cleaved through a clone that burst into vapor. Another flick of motion obliterated another copy. The precision was terrifying. But the real Swellow slipped between its doubles and struck, wings glowing white.
"Aerial Ace!"
The hit connected, glancing across Scizor's back and forcing him to stumble. Sparks scattered off the steel. He recovered instantly, feet scraping across the nearest hovering platform. For a moment, I thought he might lose his balance, but instead, he moved.
His body pivoted across the platform's slick metal with impossible control, each step gliding instead of landing. Every shift of his weight drew a faint hiss from the vents along his shoulders, the air itself shaping his motion. Even Skyla paused, eyes widening.
"What-what was that?"
I didn't answer. He pushed off the edge of the platform, sliding diagonally across the air to another disc hovering several meters higher. The subtle bursts from his thrusters carried him between them, smooth and silent, like an Olympic skater moving over invisible ice.
"Swellow, keep pressure! Quick Attack!"
The bird darted in again, a blur of white.
Pivot left Scizor, counter.
A muted hiss. Scizor twisted midair, boosting from his right flank to redirect his momentum. The attack cut past his shoulder harmlessly as he swung his claw upward, the strike connecting with the bird's underbelly.
Close Combat.
What came next was a vicious flurry of strikes so fast I couldn't track it. Swellow hit the ground with a thud before Skyla withdrew him.
The referee raised his flag.
"Swellow is unable to battle! Victory goes to Atrea Morgan and Scizor!"
The crowd below us erupted from the speakers of the camera drones broadcasting the battle.
Scizor stood perfectly still, claws folded back into resting position, faint trails of steam rising from his thrusters.
Skyla exhaled slowly, her earlier grin replaced by something closer to awe. "I've seen plenty of Steel types and none of them move like that."
I nodded, eyes still on him. "Neither have I."
Skyla exhaled, brushing wind-blown hair from her face. "That propulsion system of his... It's terrifying and beautiful at the same time."
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "It's not something he chose. But he's learning to own it."
I returned Scizor to his ball, and Trilla floated forward into position
Skyla smiled faintly as she threw her final ball skyward. A Swanna burst from the light, her wings catching the sun like polished glass. Mist rippled outward as she took flight, trailing droplets that sparkled against the barrier.
Skyla's tone softened, almost reverent. "Taylor, show them how we dance."
I nodded once.
"Alright, Trilla. Let's finish this."
She was every bit the athlete I remembered from Skyla's Olympic routines, calm, poised, and deadly.
Skyla raised a hand. "Taylor, keep your altitude! Scald!"
Swanna banked hard, wings leaving a faint spiral of mist before she dove, water gathering in her beak.
Trilla, Thunderbolt now
Electric light exploded from Trilla's hands, arcing upward in branching lines. The bolt struck Swanna mid-dive, sending a spray of steam across the field.
The impact staggered her, feathers smoking, but she didn't fall.
Skyla's eyes sharpened. "Shake it off. Close the distance!"
Swanna tucked her wings, a glint of blue around her form.
Skyla's tone sharpened. "Hydro Pump now!"
A torrent of pressurized water erupted from Swanna's beak. Trilla threw up Protect, but the blast tore through the barrier and drove her to one knee.
"Trilla!" I shouted.
She looked back over her shoulder, smiling faintly through the steam. I'll be alright.
Skyla didn't hesitate. "Aqua Jet, finish it!"
Swanna became a blur of rushing water and white light, streaking across the runway and striking Trilla square in the chest. The impact sent her sliding backward, the protective barrier flashing once as she hit the ground.
The referee raised his flag. "Gardevoir is unable to battle!"
I knelt beside her as she steadied herself, breathing hard but smiling. "You did great."
She's strong, Trilla murmured. So very strong.
I looked over at Skyla. "You weren't kidding about her being your ace."
Skyla smiled, pride and affection mixing in her expression. "Taylor's the best partner I've ever had."
I rose, gripping Scizor's Poké Ball. "Let's test that."
Scizor emerged once more, the sun gleaming along the sharp ridges of his armor. He moved differently now, calmer, more deliberate.
Skyla's voice carried over the wind. "Taylor, Brave Bird!"
Taylor soared upward, her form outlined in blue flame before she dove. The sound barrier cracked. She was coming in fast, faster than before.
Scizor move!
The shoulder plates parted, just slightly. Steam hissed from the gaps, controlled bursts instead of one continuous roar. He slid left, the thrust catching the light in fleeting pulses, each movement like the push of a skater's foot on ice.
He pivoted again, thrusters flaring at half strength, and the gust carried him just under Taylor's dive. Her Brave Bird strike grazed the air above him by inches. He'd predicted the arc.
Skyla's eyes widened. "What? How?"
Before she could react, Scizor twisted on one heel, momentum carrying him through a low slide beneath Swanna's wings. He dug his claw into the ground and used the deceleration to flip out from under her. His other claw snapped shut around Swanna's midsection and, using the remaining momentum, he yanked her over him mid flip and slammed her to the ground, finishing the battle.
Silence fell across the airfield, broken only by the hiss of cooling metal from Scizor's armor. The heat from his shoulders dimmed as the plates sealed shut again.
The referee's flag dropped. "Swanna is unable to battle! The victory goes to Atrea Morgan!"
For a moment, all I could hear was the ocean. Then Skyla laughed, a clear, breathless sound carried by the wind.
She recalled Swanna, eyes bright. "That was incredible. He moves like a machine! It's like you've been flying with him for years."
Skyla crossed the field to me, hair whipping in the breeze. "I can see why Lenora told me to watch out for you. You don't just battle, you choreograph. How long have you trained together?"
"He only joined my team a few days ago."
I exhaled, adrenaline finally catching up. "He's learning fast. I'm just trying to keep up."
"Seriously? Your synchronization is incredible for such a short time."
I shrugged, smiling faintly. "You started it. I've been watching your Olympic runs for years. You taught me how well precision beats brute force."
Her expression softened, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Flattery and victory. Dangerous combination, Morgan."
I coughed into my hand. "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."
Skyla laughed. "You should! Let's grab a drink at O'Connory's later tonight. You owe me a story of how you and Zoey met."
I mumbled for a second, unsure of how to respond.
"Seven it is," She said before I could reply.
By the time the sun dipped behind the pier, I'd finally showered off the salt and dust.
I stood in front of the motel mirror for what felt like the fiftieth time, staring down the pile of clothes I'd made on the bed. Jeans and a black tank felt too casual. The crop top looked like I was trying too hard.
Zoey sat cross-legged on the dresser, brushing her mane with zero sympathy.
You're thinking about it too much, she said, eyes gleaming in the reflection. It's just a drink.
"Yeah, but I don't even know if it's a date," I muttered, holding the shirt up against me, then putting it down again.
Then treat it like it's not.
"Easy for you to say. You don't get butterflies."
No, but I get instincts, and mine say you should stop panicking and be yourself. She already likes that version.
I exhaled, grabbed the jeans, and slipped into the tank top. Simple. Comfortable. Me.
"Fine. But if she laughs at my sneakers, I'm blaming you."
Deal.
O'Connory's was small and warm, tucked between two brick storefronts. The smell of citrus and salt clung to the air, and the chatter was low enough that I didn't have to shout. Skyla was already there, waving from a corner seat at the bar.
"Hey," she said, her smile easy and bright. "You clean up nice."
I laughed, trying not to sound nervous. "You too. Guess we both passed the dress code."
She patted the stool beside her. "Sit. Drinks are on me tonight."
The bartender, an older Ludicolo in a pressed white apron, was humming quietly while polishing a glass behind the counter. His rhythm matched the beat of the jukebox in the corner.
Skyla leaned toward me. "So I've got to ask... how do you do that? The no-commands thing. You and your team move like one brain in two bodies."
I hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Trade secret."
She nudged my arm. "Come on, I won't tell anyone."
"Alright, but don't freak out."
Her eyes sparkled. "Now I have to freak out."
I turned toward the other end of the bar. The Ludicolo was still working on his glass, humming a tune from behind the taps. Without saying a word, I reached out with my mind, quietly, politely.
Could I get two of whatever you'd recommend for a pair of nervous girls on a not-date?
He froze mid-polish, blinked once, and then gave a cheerful grin.
Moments later, he waddled over with two drinks balanced expertly on his tray. Something tropical from the look, glowing faintly blue beneath the lights.
For the ladies, he said in a thick accent, placing them down with a little bow. To Skyla, it had just come out as him reciting his species' name.
She blinked. "Wait! You didn't even- did he just-?"
I shrugged, smiling as I lifted the glass. "Yeah. I asked him from over there."
She stared at me, half awe, half disbelief. "Telepathically?"
"Mhmm." I took a sip. Sweet, with a sharp kick at the end. "Perks of the mutation."
Skyla laughed, shaking her head. "Unbelievable. You didn't even move your lips. That's... wow."
When Ludicolo returned to the counter, I slid a folded bill toward him.
He waved it off, still smiling.
Skyla frowned. "He didn't take the tip."
I grinned into my drink. "I already gave him one."
Her brow furrowed. "What did you say?"
"I told him he had the kindest rhythm I've ever heard."
She stared for a second, then laughed, the sound soft and genuine. "You complimented him in his head?"
"Hey, words carry weight," I said, tapping my temple. "Sometimes they're heavier up here than out loud."
She raised her glass toward me. "Then here's to words unspoken."
I clinked hers gently. "I'll drink to that."
The conversation slipped easily after that, stories about her flying competitions, the absurdity of battling on moving runways, and me describing how Zoey used illusions to cheat her way through exams. We laughed more than I expected, and the drinks went down smoothly. Sweet, cold, and just strong enough to keep my nerves distracted. The bar's low amber lights painted everything in warm tones, softening Skyla's sharp grin into something almost gentle.
"So," she said, tracing the rim of her glass with a finger, "you really just talk to Pokémon. No words, no hand signals, nothing."
"Pretty much." I set my drink down. "Sometimes it's like whispering into a crowded room. Other times it's like they're sitting right here."
Skyla smirked. "And I thought I had good communication with my team. Taylor only listens when she wants to."
"She likes you too much to admit it," I teased.
Skyla laughed, head tipping back slightly. "You sound like you know her already."
"I kinda do," I said before realizing how that sounded. "Not, like, know-know. Just... I heard her voice during the battle. She said she'd never seen someone fight like me before."
Her eyebrows rose. "She said that?"
I nodded. "She's proud of you, by the way. You two have the kind of bond most trainers dream about."
Skyla leaned an elbow on the counter, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and admiration. "And here I thought I'd seen it all. You really are full of surprises, Morgan."
That name pulled a faint laugh out of me.
"What?" She said, confused
"You've called me by my last name more than once."
"And?"
"You make it sound like it means something."
"Well," she said, swirling her drink, "it kind of does. Morgan's not exactly a small name in the League circuits. Any relation to Chloe Morgan?"
I hesitated, taken off guard. "Yeah. She was my mom."
Skyla nearly dropped her glass. "You're Chloe Morgan's daughter? The Dark-Type master of the U.S. Elite Four?"
I smiled awkwardly. "That's the one."
"No way." She leaned closer, eyes wide. "She was incredible! Her Absol was legendary; everyone studied her matches. Her mega evolution tactics redefined coordination battles for years."
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling heat creep into my face. "You sound more excited about her than I ever was."
"You're telling me you didn't grow up idolizing her?"
"Not really," I admitted with a faint shrug. "She wasn't some untouchable icon to me. She was just... Mom. The woman who made hot cocoa after long training nights, or scolded me when Zoey bit the mailman."
Skyla's expression softened. "That's kind of beautiful, actually."
I smiled faintly, watching the ice in my glass shift. "When she got her diagnosis, she didn't want anyone to see her as weak. She called her team together one last time: Absol, Houndoom, Tyranitar, Honchkrow, Weavile, and Bisharp. Said goodbye to each of them, told them they'd always be free."
Skyla rested her chin on her hand. "She released all six?"
"Yeah. Every single one. It broke her heart, but she didn't want them watching her fade away. Said she'd rather have them remember her as strong."
"Did they ever come back?"
I shook my head, a sad smile tugging at my lips. "No. But I like to think they still watch over the places she used to train. Absol loved the forests near Mt. Hood. Houndoom used to nap by the old power station. They left happy. That's what mattered to her."
Skyla didn't say anything for a long moment. She just looked at me, really looked at me, with that quiet kind of respect that didn't need words.
Finally, she raised her glass. "To Chloe Morgan, then. For teaching both of us what strength looks like."
I clinked mine against hers softly. "And for teaching me when to let go."
We drank, the silence between us comfortable now, filled with the buzz of conversation, the soft clink of glasses, and Ludicolo's gentle humming behind the counter.
Skyla set her drink down and grinned. "You know, I didn't expect to spend tonight getting inspired."
I laughed under my breath. "Trust me, neither did I."
She slid her stool a little closer, her voice dropping just enough to make my pulse skip. "Well... maybe next time, you can tell me more about Zoey's bite record over dinner instead of drinks."
I blinked. "Was that- uh-"
"A date?" she finished, smirking. "Yeah. That was me asking you on one."
I could practically feel Zoey's smug laughter echoing in the back of my mind.
I smiled anyway. "Then I guess I'll have to say yes."
I barely remembered stumbling back to my motel. The night air had that thick, salty taste that always clung to coastal cities, the kind that stayed in your hair and lungs no matter how long you were indoors. My head buzzed pleasantly from whatever the Ludicolo had mixed for us. For the first time in months, I felt warm. Not just from the alcohol, but from Skyla's laughter still echoing in my ears.
When I finally collapsed onto the bed, the city lights outside the window shimmered like stars caught underwater. Zoey was curled up on the chair in her illusory form, earbuds in, pretending she didn't care. Trilla was asleep near the window, her breathing steady, faint psychic light pulsing like a heartbeat. I closed my eyes, still smiling. Somewhere between waking and sleep, the hum of the city faded into something quieter, too quiet. The light behind my eyelids shifted, soft gold bleeding into the dusky orange of sunset. I felt grass beneath my hands, warm wind brushing my hair.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the motel anymore. I was standing in a park. It was quiet. Too quiet.
A faded swing set stood at the edge of the field, one of its chains groaning with every gentle sway. A little girl sat on the swing, sneakers kicking up dust as she rocked back and forth. The woman behind her pushed lightly, humming an old tune that stirred something deep in my chest.
It took me a moment to recognize her. The soft black hair. The half-smile that always hid worry behind it.
"Mom?" My voice caught.
She didn't answer, just kept humming, eyes lifted toward the horizon where the sun was slipping behind the trees. The light bled orange and red, painting everything in long shadows.
I took a few steps closer. The girl laughed, carefree, leaning back as the swing arced higher. Her laugh echoed, faintly familiar. Then I saw her face.
It was me.
My throat tightened. "I don't remember this," I whispered. "Why don't I remember this?"
Neither of them looked at me. The sun dipped lower, the warmth bleeding away until the light turned cold and gray. My mother didn't seem to notice. She just kept pushing, smiling softly as the world dimmed around us, as if she'd always preferred the dark. Then someone screamed.
"Morgan!!"
The voice ripped through the park like thunder. Deep. Shaking. Angry enough to crack stone.
Both of them froze. The chains stilled. The wind died.
I spun, searching the shadows between the trees, but there was nothing. Just that voice, closer now, and ragged with hatred.
"You ruined my life!"
The ground split beneath the swing. My mother's hand shot out, reaching for me, no, for the younger me, as the scene shattered like glass.
Suddenly, I was somewhere else. A different part of the park.
The little girl, me, was convulsing on the floor, eyes wide and glowing faintly blue. My mother knelt beside her, sobbing, clutching her face. "Stay with me! Please, baby, stay with me!"
From the darkness behind them, a voice whispered. Smooth and low, but not human.
I can save her... but you know what it will cost her.
I jolted upright with a gasp.
My shirt clung to me, drenched in sweat. The motel room swam into focus, bathed in dim yellow light. My chest ached, my head pounding. Then I saw her, Trilla, collapsed on the floor beside the bed, her body trembling faintly, psychic static flickering off her skin.
"Trilla!" I scrambled down beside her.
Zoey was already there, eyes wide, panic bleeding into her voice. Atrea, you were thrashing and screaming. She tried to calm your mind and-
She swallowed hard; something hit her back.
I pressed my hand to Trilla's chest, feeling for a pulse. It was there and oddly steady. Her mind flickered dimly in the psychic space between us, chaotic and burned at the edges.
Zoey helped Trilla back onto the bed while I sat on the floor, staring at the faint streak of dawn creeping across the wall. The air still hummed, like the room hadn't decided if the nightmare was over.
Trilla leaned against the headboard, her breathing shallow but steady. It's gone for now, she murmured into my mind, her telepathy faint and fractured, like a radio through static. But whatever it was... it left a mark.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Rest. Both of you."
Zoey opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, then just nodded, exhaustion softening her usual sharpness. She curled up on the chair again, tail twitching nervously with each breath I took.
When I finally stood, my knees were still trembling. The floorboards creaked under my weight. I could still feel the echo of that voice deep in my skull. I didn't sleep again. I sat by the window instead, watching the city stretch awake beneath a gray-gold sunrise. The ocean beyond the skyline shimmered like nothing had happened, calm and endless.