Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Act I - A Fragile Identity

Poison-tipped fangs plunged into Owen's chest. The Charmander cried out, struggling through his pierced lungs, and pushed against the stone serpent wrapped around him. He didn't know what it was. It had the face and colors of a Tyranitar, with its rocky edges and black gaps in its armor. Yet it had the winding, coiling body of a Seviper, a poisoned blade at the end of its tail, and long, sharp fangs stuck deep within him. He tasted blood; he couldn't breathe. His lungs were full.

Little orange embers rose from the ground as the fiery field burned, lighting the black night sky with smoke. The plumes glowed from the fire, giving the open field a claustrophobic, oppressive backdrop.

"OWEN!" cried a Gardevoir with blue hair.

"Mom!" Owen mouthed.

Behind the Gardevoir was a Magmortar. With fire in his eyes, he launched another fiery volley from his cannons that exploded right next to the Seviper-Tyranitar. It hissed in pain; the Flame Burst sent it flying. Owen rolled with it but its coils loosened enough that he slipped out and crumpled into ashen dirt instead. The bursts lit up the surrounding field of formerly lush grass, cutting through the evening twilight's darkness. Then the flames died, their fuel exhausted. Only the fading fire of Owen's tail and the Magmortar's shoulders remained—making them easy targets.

Owen was free for only half a second. The thing arched its back, jettisoning a series of rocky spikes toward his father, the Magmortar. Three hits. They went straight through him. Blue fire erupted from the resulting holes. And then, his father exploded in a flurry of embers.

Dad? Owen couldn't comprehend what happened. He tried to stand.

The serpent swung its tail forward—a sharp pain surged through Owen's back. A jerking motion forced Owen's head down. He saw the blade coming out from his chest. He had no way to scream.

"Get AWAY!" the Gardevoir, his mother, screamed for him. An incredible heat washed over Owen's back, and then a horrible, shrieking wail rattled his skull. He fell; the tail slipped out from behind. Blood gushed on the dirt beneath him. Blue flames filled his vision, coming from below.

Owen fell face-first into the dirt, but despite this, it felt like the coziest pillow in the world. Everything felt cold, and then warm.

"Owen! Owen!" She rushed toward him, paying no mind to the fire on the ground. It didn't look like the flames affected her body at all. "Owen, it's going to be okay!" She held his back, pushing wave after wave of healing energy through his body. His breath returned to him; he coughed the remaining blood out. His blood was filled with strange, blue flames. They didn't look normal.

What happened to his Dad? Owen's eyes darted in all directions, his expression asking what his mouth couldn't.

"Shh, it's okay," she said, placing her hand firmly on his back. The pain was unbearable. He loved it. He laughed a little, wondering if he could still fight. Primal delirium flooded his mind.

"It's okay, it's okay," whispered his mother. "Calm down. Sleep..."

The world curled into a tiny circle in front of Owen, darkening into a distant tunnel. But then, the world uncoiled, much to Owen's displeasure. He just wanted to sleep.

The Heal Pulse intensified, the warmth almost too hot even for his Fiery body. He gasped his first breath, life—and pain—returning to him in full.

But then he felt a different energy course through him. It wasn't healing him. "Shh," Amia said softly. "Just sleep. Just sleep..."

It felt awful. Energy drained from his core. His vision faded. He reached forward. His scales peeled off his body like dust in the wind, turning into blue fire. It didn't hurt. It didn't feel like anything.