Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Special Episode 10 - Wishkeeper

Year 982

"Okay, okay, it's okay!" Wishkeeper held his hands forward firmly, but the Sceptile in front of him was inconsolable. "Please, speak carefully, and from the beginning. What's going on?"

"My daughter, my daughter, please!"

It was a whole scene inside a small village south of Quartz Mountain. A Sceptile, wailing desperately for help, only a few buildings away from the actual place she was supposed to report problems. Instead, she'd seen Wishkeeper, who of course stood out from everyone else thanks to being taller than the buildings themselves.

"What in the world is going on?" called someone from a nearby home.

"Someone was kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped?"

"Bandits..."

Wishkeeper took in the context clues, but let Sceptile calm herself. She was old. Her scales were sagging and her leaves looked soft and withered. If she had to fight, perhaps she could, but she was nowhere near a state to assist in any rescues. If she offered, he would firmly refuse.

"Tell me everything and I'll help." Wishkeeper nodded.

Suddenly, Wishkeeper got a flash of something when he locked eyes with this old Sceptile. Images. He saw a little Treecko swinging a wooden sword strapped to her arm. Horrible stance. There was a Rhydon nearby, smiling cheerily. Then the images rapidly melted to an adolescent Grovyle, rolling her eyes and nodding. Exasperated about yet another question about her wellbeing. Then, a Sceptile, lithe but powerful, holding something over her shoulder. It looked like delivery supplies. Yes, she was a messenger.

This was a power granted to him by Necrozma to help with his Wishkeeping duties, but it had been recent. He still wasn't that used to it... being able to read someone's past that way. In some ways, it was overwhelming.

The images disappeared and Wishkeeper was staring at Sceptile again. No time had passed. In fact, she'd only just started talking. Details, details. A forest to the west, along the trail, was where her daughter—a Sceptile named Mhynt—had last been seen. She had disappeared a day ago, which made Wishkeeper's stomach feel cold. A whole day. Anything could have happened to her.

Wishkeeper nodded and asked for some distance. He flew directly to the forest.

The trail was easy to see even from above, and once he landed, he saw what looked like signs of a struggle a quarter of the way along the known trail. He landed and checked. He nearly touched some of the ground, but then recalled the blessings he'd been granted by Necrozma and closed his eyes. The center of his back felt hot as he channeled energy from the mark placed there. His body was still young and acclimating to that power again, so it burned.

In moments, he knew the area around him completely. Buried rocks and stones, discarded berries, the network of roots, and all the abnormal gashes left in the trail to the left, along the wood. Gashes that perfectly matched a Leaf Blade. There were also patterns of puncture marks in the soil that matched a thrashing Sceptile's tail. Accompanying the marks were other footprints and markings impossible for a Sceptile to make unconsciously.

Kidnapping. So, she had lost. He didn't sense any thick liquids in the dirt or congealed mud, and it hadn't rained recently. No blood had been spilled, or if it had, it wasn't significant. Perhaps there was still time.

He followed the trail of destruction, noting that these struggles were getting weaker. They abruptly stopped, and that only meant there was a hidden passageway. He was starting to get a headache from keeping Perceive active for so long. He would have to take a break soon.