In a world full of floating islands, sky pirates, exiled magicians, and Pokémon, peace is difficult to maintain.
Shaymin, kind Pokémon who'd guided travelers once man learned how to fly, were hunted to extinction for their Gracideas: magical flowers...
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The lush, green canopies swaying overhead sheltered the forest floor from the blazing sun's rays. Shade cloaked the land's ankle-length grasses and its babbling brook running south. Small Pokémon lounged around the pool, observing two humans sparring in mild interest.
Caught in a patch of sunlight was a wavering girl close to fainting. A practice sword laid at her feet, dusted in dirt. She stared at it, hunched over, fighting to regain her breath as her limbs trembled.
"Again," a stern voice ordered. "You won't be able to best your betrothed if you're winded so easily, August."
August glared at the speaker standing across from her, cool and collected. Her older sister donned a hard expression as she waited for her to gather her senses, her golden glare scrutinizing all of August's moves.
"I'm tired of this stupid sword-fighting," August complained, wobbling as she straightened upright.
Shannon sheathed her practice sword and crossed over to her. She offered her hand, saying, "Don't be rash. Father promised Lord Vitale he would give you to his newborn son once he comes of age."
August ignored her hand and clambered to her feet herself. "And his son's due at the end of summer. I have 18 years to learn how to stab people. It can't be that hard."
She walked past her discarded sword and Shannon, whistling a sharp note. Leaves rustled, and a golden-colored bug fluttered out from the depths of the orchard. August smiled. Combee buzzed in a cheerful greeting, shaking off the loose pollen from her wings.
"I'm not scared of a man who's not even born yet," August declared. She giggled as she dodged Combee's gentle headbutts: it was their own special game of tag.
"The problem is, August, that you don't have 18 years—you have six months."
August halted, causing Combee to bump into her. Combee whirred in delight, thinking she won their game, only to quiet as she noticed her friend's distress.
"What are you saying?" August asked.
A tinge of bitterness tainted Shannon's tone as she answered, "We discussed this at supper yesternight. I leave for the officer's academy in the spring. If you'd attended, you would've known."
The ten-year-old looked away. She hadn't attended the meal since it was just another honorary dinner celebrating Shannon's success. They were all the same: her parents flaunted the eldest daughter's accomplishments to their rich friends while August sat there speaking not a word, ignored. Forgotten.
"Now come back here," Shannon demanded, "and pick up your sword. Unless you want to be married to someone ten years younger than you, this is your one hope at remaining unwedded. Don't let your short sight ruin your future."
