Disclaimer:I do not own Pokémon. I have read only one fic completely and that is the amazing, Sacrifice and Subjugation by MetalDargon. I hope to create something half as good.


    A/N:Hi everyone! This is my first go at writing a fic and creative writing in general. I used to read a lot as a kid and have picked it back up recently, reading mostly fantasy and sci-fi. I struggled with creative writing in school, but excelled in analytical/scientific writing. With this fic, I hope to improve my writing and worldbuilding, so please review and provide feedback/thoughts/likes/dislikes/hopes/wishes/etc!


    I always wished there was more mature content for Pokémon, so finding fics perfectly scratched that itch. This fic started because I wanted to create a Pokémon story set in an unforgiving fantasy/medieval world in which the strength of pokémon is necessary for survival and human advancement. I''m going to create only original characters for this fic. I grew up playing the games and anime, but I am by no means a Pokémon expert (far from it actually) compared to some other fic authors out there. As such, tactics/lore/mechanics will probably be different per my interpretation/creative freedom. However, I will do my best to research diligently in order to create a world that feels authentic.


    A few things I plan to incorporate are vivid battles, romance, and both third person and first person POV. I also want to create some visuals like a map of the Eldrian Kingdom.


    "Speech"


    ''Thoughts''


    Hope you guys enjoy reading!


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    Prologue


    Lightning split the sky, carving forked veins of radiance into the blackened clouds. For a moment, the battlefield was laid bare—a smeared canvas of corpses and ruin. The dead lay splattered in the mud, their bodies mangled, their banners drowned in rivers of scarlet. Pokémon and humans alike had been slaughtered in the conflict of two visions. The stench of charred flesh and singed fur clung to the air.


    Above the devastation, two figures loomed—each astride a god. Zekrom, the demon of thunder, slumped forward, heaving. Its once-indomitable obsidian form was now diminished and fractured. The tempest in its core—its spired tail—flickered like a dying star. It had given everything. Opposite it, atop a mirroring crag of stone, a young man with lustrous argent hair sat upon a dragon of chaos.


    The icy shell that had once been Kyurem now burned with Reshiram''s fire. It had made its choice. Two deities had become conjoined as one. One half, a frozen abyss, the other, an inferno. The beast''s tail no longer hummed—it howled. Not with Kyurem''s endless cold nor Reshiram''s scorching fury, but with something new. The draconic fusion pulsed with unnatural energy, a dance of frost and flame, of death and rebirth. Yet within this disorder, the creature droned a tune of absolute control. The great wyrm exhaled, and the battlefield responded. The rain, the wind, the very atmosphere itself hesitated. Balance was broken. This was what existed beyond it—a paradox of being.


    Beside Zekrom, a man staggered, his breath uneven, his palms bloody and callused from gripping the fallen legendary''s reins. Proud. Unwavering.


    "It''s over, Caenus," the victor spoke, battered but unbroken.


    Caenus let out a scoff, bitter and sharp. "No, Atreus," he spat, shaking his head. "You don''t get to decide that. You don''t get to tell me it''s over."


    Atreus met his gaze. "Kyurem has chosen, brother," Atreus said, his voice steady but edged with sorrow. "Even it knows your vision is a lie."


    Caenus'' jaw clenched. His hands shook, but not from fear. From rage. From grief. "A lie,brother?" he echoed, his voice raw. "I envisioned a world where we were no longer at the mercy of these titans." He pointed at Kyurem, its form crackling with volatile discharges.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Where we did not worship butwieldtheir power." A grin spread across his face, fist raised.


    Below, the battleground moaned—those left breathing crawled through the mire of corpses, calling out for aid that would never come.


    "You would let them rule over us? Let them decide who lives and who dies?"


    "They were not meant to be ruled!" Atreus countered, his voice slicing like a blade. "We were not meant to command their might like tyrants. We were meant to live alongside them—revering them, not shackling them."


    Caenus exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in ragged heaves. "Tyrant? You call me a tyrant," he said, his voice dark, "but I only sought to protect what we love. How many more need to die for you to understand? With their strength, we could shake the earth, command the seas—conquer… heal… save countless!"


    Atreus''s grip tightened. "What happened to you, brother? You let your grief consume you."


    Silence. Only the wind howled through the valley of the dead.


    "Caenus… this won''t bring her back."


    The words struck true. For a moment—just a moment—his brother faltered. Time blurred. Her voice—did he even remember the sound of it? He had crafted a future where she could have lived. Yet, would she approve of this world?


    Caenus opened his mouth, but no words left. His rage and grief warred beneath the surface.


    Then, with renewed venom, he sneered. "You think our people are better off with Eldrys to lead us into this new world?" His voice was hoarse but defiant.


    "He is weak! Naive."


    "He is true," Atreus responded bluntly.


    "I… I will not stop, Atreus," Caenus said, his voice cold. "I cannot stop."


    "Kill me if you must, but you know my cause will outlive us both."


    Atreus''s expression hardened. This was the end.


    "No, Caenus," he said, his tone pained. "We need peace."


    "Kyurem, Fusion Flare!" the silver brother roared.


    The fused dragon reared back, thrust its wings, and took flight. The world held its breath. Tubes sprouted from Kyurem''s back and connected to its tail. Its infernal half erupted, its mane and wing burning intensely. The creature''s tail became a conduit, molten arcs of energy began spiraling uncontrollably around it.


    Then, the dragon screamed. The air cracked. The battlefield shuddered. From its maw, the dragon unleashed a colossal sphere of fire—searing, blinding—with rings wreathed in flame violently orbiting around it.


    Caenus released a breath, his rigid fingers relaxed, his gaze locked on the hellfire above. Zekrom let out a final cry.


    In this instant, he saw her. For the first time in his life, Caenus did not resist. He closed his eyes, barely bracing before the blazing sun crashed down.


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    The young lord jolted awake, drenched in sweat. He clutched his chest, heart thumping like the frantic pace of a darting Ninjask as he gasped for air. A drop of sweat slipped from the tip of his nose as he dragged a sleeve across his face, wiping away the dampness clinging to his skin.


    His breath steadied, though his body trembled, recollecting Zekrom''s final roar echoing in his ears.''What was that strange dream?''he wondered.


    A cool breeze brushed against his skin, drawing his attention to the half-open window and the silver-sheened view of Velarim beyond. The usual thunders of the market and the voices of countless residents had faded into a near-silent lull, broken only by the drizzles of drunken stragglers washing through the streets.


    He noticed a feline silhouette scaling a rocky outcrop adjacent to Castle Velarys. Reaching its intended perch, the silhouette revealed a distinctive scythe-shaped horn, mirroring the larger crescent spotlighting its form.


    "Absol," the boy whispered.


    He recalled one of Master Dimetrius'' many lessons: the rare ivory pokémon were a bad omen—not a bringer of disaster, but a harbinger of it, appearing before landslides, wildfires, war, and the tragedies woven by human hands.


    <blockquote>


    "Now, Atreus, if you ever see an Absol, you have three options," the master had said.


    "One, you can ignore it…"


    "Two, you can run…"


    "Or, three, you can bow like this—" He recalled Master Dimetrius stiffening his aged posture and bowing slowly, palms open and arms outstretched, until he could no longer see the young lord in front of him.


    "And that will prevent the disaster?" he had asked doubtfully.


    "Nope," the master grinned, "but at least you''ll die with good manners!"


    </blockquote>


    The Absol turned to Atreus, its glowing red eyes cutting through the night''s shadow. A shiver ran down his spine, but he shook it off and responded with a performative bow, mimicking his eccentric master''s display.


    "Now, what disaster areyouwarning me about?" Atreus asked.


    Though the Absol was too far to hear him, it tilted its head curiously.


    A drowsiness tugged at his eyelids, but the weight of Absol''s gaze persisted in his mind. He fought it, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the gnawing sense of unease. The night air felt heavier now. Still, sleep crept in, claiming him before he could resist. The unbothered Absol lingered, watching as the young lord''s eyes fluttered with the stirrings of slumber before disappearing into the mountains.