Ch 01. The Day Everything Changed
The park was too quiet. A chill, sharper than the autumn air, prickled my skin. I tugged my hoodie tighter, the threadbare fabric offering little comfort. Sunset streaked the sky in feverish oranges and purples, the colors too vivid, too wrong.
The usual evening symphony—crickets chirping, distant traffic humming, the joyful shrieks of kids chasing ice cream trucks—was absent. Even the breeze felt stagnant, as if the world was holding its breath.
This is why I don't go outside, I thought, the familiar misanthropic mantra a thin shield against the unease creeping into my bones.
I slumped onto my usual bench, its cracked wood groaning beneath my weight. Old habits die hard. I glanced around almost subconsciously and patted the spot where I was about to sit, a leftover precaution from my foster days.
'EAT THE RICH,' the graffiti proclaimed in peeling red letters, a sentiment I usually echoed in my head. My phone buzzed, the tinny fanfare of a Pokémon FireRed victory theme cutting through the silence. Sixteen years of playthroughs, and that Pavlovian twitch of satisfaction still pulsed through me as the pixelated Elite Four collapsed. It was a small victory, a distraction from the larger defeat looming: the dwindling inheritance, the water-stained ceiling of my studio apartment, the countdown to… what?
— — —
The first scream wasn't human—it was metal tearing.
Tires shrieked, the sound ripping through the unnatural quiet. My head snapped up. A truck, a hulking metal beast, careened off the road, smashing through the park gate like it was made of cardboard. My body reacted before my mind could process the danger. Muscle memory, honed in five foster homes where hesitation meant a slap, a locked door, or a night shivering in the yard, propelled me forward.
A girl.
She jogged ahead, oblivious, headphones blaring, ponytail swinging. Her spiky blonde hair gleamed under the sickly violet light. Her stride—chin up, shoulders squared—triggered a memory, sharp and clear. Emma's laughter echoed in my head—her 10-year-old self grinning as she tossed my toy Poké Ball at my Game Boy. "I'll beat your Charizard someday, Alex!"
"Hey!" My voice cracked, thin and reedy. She didn't turn.
The truck's grill loomed, a steel jaw hungry for bone.
— — —
My heart hammered against my ribs. I lunged, tackling her around the waist. The impact knocked her headphones flying, the music abruptly cutting off. We hit the ground hard, the air whooshing from both our lungs. We rolled, the rough grass scraping against my skin, as the truck obliterated the bench I'd been sitting on moments before. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the ground, vibrating in my bones. The shattering of glass rained down around us, glinting like cursed confetti, some shards stinging my cheek.
"What the—?!" Emma started, pushing herself up, her eyes wide and unfocused. She swayed, her hand going to her head, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to clear her vision. For a moment, she just stared blankly at the wreckage of the bench, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She stumbled, her hand going to her head as if trying to dislodge the ringing in her ears. She blinked, as if trying to clear her head, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. Then, her gaze landed on me, her expression hardening.
Her hands trembled as she brushed glass from her hair, but her voice was steel. "What the hell?!"
I winced, pushing myself up, my hands trembling. Her voice, still all bark and no bite, sent a pang of guilt through me. "Yeah, well, you're welcome," I muttered, the words laced with a bitterness I couldn't quite suppress.
She stared, her breathing quick and shallow. Her eyes, still wide with lingering shock from the near-accident, narrowed. A fleeting glimpse of hurt, quickly masked by anger, crossed her face before she demanded, "…Alex?"
The accusation hung between us, sharp and unforgiving as the shards of glass littering the grass. My stomach twisted. I'd packed my bags at midnight, the silence of the empty house amplifying the hollowness inside me. Aged out of the system, too numb to face another tearful "family dinner" that tasted like obligation. Now, twelve years later, the guilt curdled in my gut, bitter and familiar. "Emma, I—"
— — —
The air crackled, a static charge raising the hair on my arms. The metallic tang of ozone filled my nostrils, stinging my senses.
Emma stiffened, her eyes widening in alarm. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Do you… hear static?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her hand lifted, almost instinctively, as if trying to touch the invisible energy in the air, her fingers twitching slightly.
A low hum, like a malfunctioning fluorescent light, built in my skull, familiar and terrifying. It resonated with a deep, primal fear, like the glitchy Lavender Town theme from FireRed, the one that urban legends claimed drove kids to madness. That sound… it can't be… The static intensified, a buzzing in my ears, as purple lightning clawed across the sky, an unnatural tear in the fabric of reality. The air thrummed with an unseen energy, raising goosebumps on my skin.
Not natural. Not possible.
"Run!" I grabbed her hand, the urgency in my voice echoing the frantic pounding of my heart. I yanked her towards the relative safety of the trees bordering the park, but a strange paralysis seemed to grip her. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, wide with a terror that mirrored my own.
Too late.
— — —
The bolt struck us with the precision of a sniper, a searing white-hot pain exploding through every nerve. My vision imploded in a flash of blinding light, then shattered into a kaleidoscope of distorted shapes. Through the haze, I saw them: A silhouette with a jagged lightning bolt tail, a rustling in the bushes that seemed to shimmer and shift, and then, nothing. A voice, ancient and alien, murmured something unintelligible, lost in the roaring in my ears.
And a whisper, oily and ancient, slithering into my mind, chilling me to the core: "Welcome, Vessels."
Then, blessed oblivion.
---
### Hidden Journal Entry
Observation Log: Entity "Erebus"
Subject: Emma Foster (Primary Vessel) and Alex Trent (Unintended Consequence)
Date: 23rd February 2023
The anomaly is thriving.
Subject A, Emma Foster remains the ideal candidate—her resilience, athleticism, and latent psychic sensitivity make her a perfect conduit. However, Subject B, Alex Trent exhibits anomalous cognitive patterns—predictive decision-making akin to precognition. Hypothesis: latent synchronization with 'Eclipse' protocols." Will this stabilize or fracture the bond?
Further observation is required to determine the nature of Subject B's precognitive abilities. Is it a byproduct of the synchronization, or something more?
The lightning strike was no accident. By merging their fates, I've ensured their survival hinges on cooperation. Alex's knowledge of Pokémon lore may prove critical in navigating the trials ahead, though his self-doubt threatens to destabilize the bond.
---
Chapter End