Soldris Ridge ,East watchtower
---
The room was dim.
Faint light bled through the closed curtains, filtered gold by morning haze. Dust danced silently in the sunbeams, stirring only when the breeze caught the corner of a parchment or the edge of a blanket.
Ren lay still beneath the covers, eyes open, staring at the wood-paneled ceiling above him. His breath came slowly. Pain no longer roared through his chest, but it hadn't left entirely. Every movement pulled at wounds not yet healed some physical, some deeper.
His arms were wrapped in fresh linen, soft but tight. A broad swath of bandaging crossed his torso, beneath the simple robe the clerics had given him to wear in recovery. Beside him on a small table sat a chipped ceramic bowl filled with half-melted ice water and a folded cloth. Someone had been tending to him recently.
Lucario's Poké Ball lay at his side, still and silent.
Braviary, Fraxure, and Combusken were all resting in recovery chambers nearby, watched over by palace medics.
They had fought well. Too well. They had survived.
But just barely.
Ren closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the golden light the corrupted Hydreigon screaming in rage and agony. The strange stillness when the Aura surged through him. The heat. The force.
He had pushed something beyond its limit that day.
And it had pushed back.
---
The door creaked softly.
He turned his head slowly toward the entrance.
Lia stood in the doorway, her long cloak still stained from the fight, though cleaner than before. Her right arm was bandaged up to the elbow. Behind her was Thomas, his usual carefree air tempered by quiet caution.
They stepped in carefully, as if afraid the room itself might break if they moved too quickly.
"Hey," Lia said first, her voice soft. "You awake?"
Ren nodded, shifting slightly. "Yeah."
Thomas gave a half-wave. "You look like death, man. But, like… recovering death. Still breathing and all that."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Ren's mouth. He didn't answer.
Lia stepped forward, folding her arms not with sternness, but the posture of someone unsure what to do with emotion.
"I came to say… thank you," she said quietly.
Ren blinked. "For what?"
She looked down. "You threw yourself between me and that last blast. You could've died."
Ren looked back up at the ceiling. "You would've done the same."
"No," she said honestly. "I wouldn't have made it in time. You did."
Silence lingered.
Thomas broke it. "The medics said it'll be a week before you're walking without pain. Lucario's stable. Looks like you both pushed yourselves into the red."
"Yeah," Ren murmured. "We did."
He looked at his palm. He could still feel the hum of Aura in his blood muted now, distant, but alive. Changed.
"Glad you're alive, though," Thomas added, rubbing the back of his neck. "The corrupted Pokemon are still out there. We'll need every hand when things start to move again."
Ren gave a slow nod. "I'll be ready."
Lia gave a small bow. "I'll let you rest."
Just as they turned to go, the door opened again and all three of them straightened instantly.
Commander Seris entered the room like a blade entering a scabbard quiet, purposeful, and impossible to ignore.
Her long cloak swirled behind her, embroidered with the symbol of Ravelle's royal crest. Her expression was unreadable, as always. But her eyes scanned the room quickly, pausing only briefly on Ren.
"At ease," she said calmly.
Thomas and Lia bowed slightly. "Commander."
"I heard you're awake," Seris said, stepping beside Ren's bed. Her Gallade appeared behind her in a ripple of motion then faded again into the shadows by the wall. Always watching. Always near.
Ren sat up straighter, gritting his teeth slightly. "I'm… recovering."
Seris nodded once. "The medics are impressed. Most Aura users don't survive that kind of surge. Let alone stand afterward."
Ren didn't respond. He couldn't tell if that was praise or warning.
She reached into her coat and produced a tied bundle of letters dozens of them, bound with a simple blue ribbon.
"You've been receiving these," she said, handing them to him. "All from the same sender."
Ren looked at the bundle, brow furrowing. He took them slowly, fingertips brushing the worn edges of the envelopes.
Seris added, "Some were sent through the academy, others through the capital courier. I only just now traced them here."
From behind, Lia leaned in and saw the name scrawled across the top letter.
"…Mila," she said quietly.
Ren's heart paused for a moment.
Thomas gave him a grin. "She's been writing you this whole time?"
Ren didn't answer.
Seris stepped back. "Read them. Or don't. That's up to you."
Then, with a nod, she turned. "Lia. Thomas. Let's give him space."
The two junior knights followed her out, glancing back only once.
The door shut.
And then Ren was alone.
---
The room was silent again.
He stared down at the bundle of letters in his hands. The paper was soft from handling. Some had creases. One even bore a faint smudge that looked like dried tears. The handwriting curved, careful, unmistakably hers was instantly familiar.
He loosened the ribbon and unfolded the first one.
---
> "Dear Ren,
I heard from one of the instructors that you arrived on your post . I hope it's not too dangerous. You always take on more than you need to. I guess that hasn't changed.
It's strange not seeing you around the training yard. Everyone keeps asking where you are, and I keep making up excuses. I miss sparring with you.
Anyway… write me back when you can. Stay safe.
—Mila."
---
Ren set that letter down and opened the next.
Then the next.
---
> "Ren,
Still nothing from you. Are you okay? Did you get my last letter?
The academy hosted a tournament last week. I didn't enter. It didn't feel right without you there. I think you would've won, though. Vince been asking about you . He's getting stronger but probably not as strong as you are.
I actually beat him in a spar.
Please write back. Just a word. Let me know you're alive.
M."
---
Each letter bled into the next. Days turned into weeks between them. Her voice never wavered but her words grew heavier. Less playful. More uncertain
Ren read in silence, face unreadable.
He didn't cry. But something inside him cracked like frost breaking beneath a slow sunrise.
He turned to one of the last letters. It was the shortest of them all.
---
> "I don't know if you're ever going to write back. But if you're alive… please reply once. Just once.
That's all I want.
Mila."
---
He closed the letter, fingers trembling slightly.
Lucario gkance beside him, sensing the weight in his heart.
Ren leaned back against the pillow, eyes on the ceiling again.
He had survived. Somehow. But reading those letters, he realized something else:
He had left parts of himself behind. Not just in battle but in silence.
In pushing people away to stay strong… he had forgotten why he fought at all.
The letters were reminders.
Of home.
Of her.
Of who he had been before the Hydreigon. Before the corruption. Before the war that was only beginning.
He set the bundle of letters beside his bed, then reached for a fresh parchment from the desk nearby.
He didn't know what to write.
But for the first time in weeks… he picked up a pen.
---
Ravios royal academy
The bell tower tolled five times, its notes echoing through the quiet morning air of Ravios Royal Academy.
The sun filtered down through the stained-glass windows of the central courtyard, painting the cobblestones in soft pastels pink, green, gold. The scent of freshly trimmed grass and chalk dust hung faintly on the breeze, carried from the training fields and lecture halls beyond.
Mila stood at one of the eastern balconies, her gloved hands resting on the stone railing as she stared out toward the rooftops of the capital. Her pink hair, tied back in a loose braid, fluttered gently in the wind.
A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Another morning. Another day with no letter.
The breeze felt warm, but it did nothing to melt the chill that had taken up residence in her chest.
---
She hadn't seen Ren in over a month now.
He'd vanished after being assigned to the East Watchtower. Commander Seris had made no announcement, and the Academy staff gave only vague answers.
First, she'd waited patiently.
Then, she'd sent a letter.
Then another. And another.
She'd lost count after the seventh.
Still nothing.
---
"Mila!"
A voice called out from below.
She looked down to see Vince waving up at her from the archway. He wore the academy's navy-blue coat with gold trim, his hair neatly combed. and his swampert walked behind him,
Mila offered a small smile. "Good morning."
Vince jogged up the spiral stair and joined her on the balcony.
"You're up early," he said. "I figured you'd be sleeping in after yesterday's drills. That Shield Guard technique nearly knocked you off your feet."
Mila shrugged. "I've had worse."
Vince gave her a sidelong glance. "Still no word?"
Her silence was answer enough.
He frowned. "I don't get it. He wouldn't ignore you. You're... well, you're his childhood friend ."
She chuckled, but it didn't last. "Maybe he's just too busy. Or maybe he's somewhere they can't send letters from."
"Come on," Vince said gently. "He's probably stuck with a mountain patrol or fighting off rogue Rhydon. You know how commander Seris works if you're not half-dead, you're not training hard enough."
Mila nodded faintly, her gaze drifting again toward the horizon.
"Have you talked to anyone who's seen him?" she asked quietly.
Vince shook his head. "No. But I'll ask around again."
She appreciated that. Vince wasn't just a noble by name he'd proven himself loyal, level-headed, and surprisingly self-aware for someone born into privilege. And he genuinely cared about both her and Ren. Even if he had no clue what to say half the time.
"Thanks, Vince," Mila said softly.
He smiled and straightened his coat. "Anytime. Just don't go throwing yourself into duels to blow off steam again. That guy you beat last week still can't look me in the eye."
"I didn't start it," Mila said with a smirk.
"You never do."
---
They parted ways at the central hall, Vince off to his sword techniques lecture and Mila to her potionwork review.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, training matches, and shallow conversations.
She listened as instructors droned on about elemental theory. She sparred a student with a Clefable who used gravity techniques, and won with a clever redirect from Luxray. She shared lunch with a few classmates who mostly talked about fashion trends and a new bakery in the noble quarter.
She smiled. Laughed at the right moments. Nodded when she needed to.
But her thoughts remained elsewhere.
---
The next morning, the Academy halls buzzed with a different energy.
Mila heard the whispers before she saw the crowd.
Students gathered near the message board by the front hall. A few were holding newspapers.
She caught a fragment of conversation:
> "rampage near Soldris Ridge. Huge"
"said it was a Hydreigon, gold-marked. Never seen one like it."
"one dead. Or maybe two. No names released."
Mila froze.
Soldris Ridge.
Her heart hammered. That was where Ren had been sent.
She stepped forward quickly, brushing past a pair of second-years.
"Who said that?" she demanded.
A tall student with glasses and a Probopass beside him turned. "Oh,Mila. Yeah, I heard it this morning from one of the scribes. Some kind of incident near the ridge watchtowers. Apparently, a corrupted Pokémon Hydreigon or something came out of nowhere and attacked a patrol."
Her mouth felt dry. "Do you know who was there?"
He shook his head. "Just that it was bad. Commander Seris was spotted returning to the inner ward yesterday. Probably related."
Another student added, "They're saying it was one of those red-eyed Pokémon. But this one had… I don't know. Gold?"
Mila stepped back, pulse racing.
Ren.
She turned and walked quickly down the hallway, ignoring the voices that followed. Gardevoir trailed behind her, sensing her unease.
At the base of the inner training grounds, she stopped, gripping the rail tightly.
Was he dead?
No. No, he couldn't be. He wouldn't go out like that.
She remembered the way he stood calm, fierce, unshakable. Even when they were kids, he'd been the one who never panicked. He would push himself to the edge to protect someone. He'd protect his team. He'd fight back.
But that didn't mean he was invincible.
He could be hurt. Alone. Bleeding in some forgotten cave while she just sat here, writing letters to the wind.
Mila clenched her fists, breath sharp.
Vince appeared at her side, out of breath. "I just heard," he said. "It's true. There was a Hydreigon. But no confirmation on casualties. Just rumors so far."
"Who told you?"
"Seris's assistant. He didn't say much, but… he didn't deny it either."
Mila looked away.
A breeze swept through the courtyard. Flower petals from the central tree drifted across the stones like ashes.
"I need to know," she said. "I need to know if he's okay."
"You will," Vince said firmly. "We'll find out. And when we do, I'll go with you if you want answers."
She looked at him, eyes glassy but steady. "Thanks, Vince."
"For what?"
"For not treating me like I'm fragile."
"I've seen you fight," he said. "You're anything but fragile ."
---
That night, Mila sat again at her desk.
She pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. But the words didn't come.
Instead, she just held the pen, staring at the candle flame.
If Ren was alive… maybe he was reading her letters now. Maybe they were finally reaching him.
Maybe he would write back.
She placed her hand over her chest.
"Please," she whispered. "Be safe."