The sharp, rhythmic pounding in your skull pulses in time with every jolt of your body. You are lying face-down in something damp and granular that grinds against your cheek—sand. The last thing you remember is the sky splitting open, a violent crack of lightning, and the terrifying sensation of your very essence being rewritten. Now, your limbs feel stubby, your body feels strange, and the world feels far too large.

Malachi: “HEY!? Are you alright!? Wake up!”

The voice is high-pitched and frantic. A blunt, warm pressure—a paw—nudges your shoulder with enough force to make your head swim. You manage a weak, pained groan, the sound catching in a throat that feels entirely unfamiliar.

Rune: “Hey—WHO IS THAT, MALACHI!?”

A second voice, sharper and laced with a defensive edge, cuts through the fog. You force your eyes open, squinting against the brutal glare of the morning sun reflecting off the ocean waves.

Hovering over you is a Shinx, though he looks a bit different than most; his black and blue fur is thick and tufted, giving him the rugged, slightly more mature appearance of a Luxio despite his small size. His yellow, star-shaped tail-tip twitches with anxiety. Beside him stands an Alolan Vulpix with snowy white fur that carries a faint, ethereal pink tint in the shadows, which her alternate pink color makes her shiny. Her icy blue eyes are narrowed with suspicion, though a flicker of something softer—concern, perhaps—is buried deep beneath her sassy exterior.

“THEY’RE STILL ALIVE!!!” Malachi shouts, his voice cracking with relief as he bounces on his paws, nearly stepping on your tail—wait, do you have a tail?