The Pantheon

EGG-sighting

As previously mentioned, this will be the last chapter for at least a couple of months. I'll be taking a break from Pokémon to focus on some other fandoms for a while and let my brain recharge a bit. I want to come back with a fresh perspective and finish this fic strong.

Thank you all so much for the support, excitement, and chaos you've shared with me during this journey. I've had an amazing time writing Ashley's adventure so far, and I promise we're not done yet—just taking a pit stop before the next storm. 💙

See you soon, and take care of yourselves!

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Back then, things had been cold—but not in the familiar, comforting way of a snow-laden morning or the quiet chill of dawn on the mountain. It had been a different kind of cold, the sort that didn't settle in the fur, but somewhere underneath it. The kind that made every step feel unsure, every movement too loud in the empty stretch of white.

She hadn't had a name then. Just a rhythm of movement: hunting, curling up to sleep, waking again. Her days were long and repetitive, shaped more by instinct than thought. Wind had been her only companion, brushing past her ears in bursts, sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh. There had been no voices, no patterns of speech, only the sound of her paws pressing into packed snow and the occasional cry of distant wild Pokémon that didn't come too close.

When she was captured, she hadn't realized it right away. One moment she had been alone, weaving through the cold brush with a cautious pace. The next, there had been light—sharp, disorienting light. Her paws no longer touched snow. Her body didn't respond the same. And then it was gone.

When the Poké Ball opened again, she was surrounded.

Lorelei's team had been the first thing she saw. Their bodies towered over her, silhouettes blurred slightly by indoor lights and her own unease. Each one emanated so much power that had been enough to make her tuck her tails close to her side and press against the wall.

None of them had been cruel. They didn't ignore her, but they didn't approach her either. And that space in between—the place where no harm came, but no warmth did either—was where she had stayed. She didn't understand what they wanted from her. She didn't know if she was meant to prove herself or stay quiet. Either way, she kept her gaze low and her breathing shallow, always on edge. The room was clean and large, but it felt tighter than the caves she used to curl up in.

Her tails stayed puffed up for days. Every sound made her jolt. Even gentle footsteps felt like tremors when they came from Pokémon so composed, so precise. She had no way to place herself beside them. She had no idea why she was there.

Then, another transfer.

She didn't understand it at the time, but when the ball opened again, everything felt different. She was in a new space, and it didn't carry the same weight. The air was louder, not with pressure, but with movement. There were other Pokémon nearby, younger, messier. They didn't approach her as a unit. They didn't watch her with unreadable silence. Instead, they moved like individuals, each with their own tempo.

The fire lizard—Mars—glanced at her once and then went right back to what he'd been doing, which was apparently sunbathing even though there was no sun. The Eevee—Mercury—zipped by with some quick sound she didn't understand and didn't really want to. It was overwhelming, but not in the same way. There was no sharp stare waiting for her to perform. There was just noise, and color, and the occasional shove that meant nothing serious.

No one tried to intimidate her. No one reminded her how small she was.

She stayed on the edge of the group for a long time. She watched them—how they interacted, how they bickered, how they trained—and waited for the moment when it would all shift back into something heavier. But it didn't. The others didn't demand anything from her. They left space without turning it into silence. Eventually, she stopped shrinking away every time one of them got too close.