Your Pokémon are resting—beside the campfire you managed to build, flickering weakly against the cold. They're worn out from the snowstorm, from the unfamiliar terrain, from whatever this place is.

But they don't notice her.

You do.

Just beyond the tree line, where the shadows bleed into the snow, she stands.

Still. Motionless. Watching.

Her face is pale, featureless—eyes long gone, yet somehow… she sees.

Her head tilts slowly as your Pokémon curl closer together. Pikachu twitches in its sleep. Charizard’s flame flickers uncertainly.

And then—her hand lifts. Not threatening. Just reaching.

Like she remembers.

Remembers what it was like to have her own team.

You blink, and for a moment… you think you see outlines behind her. Ghostlike forms—blurry Pokémon sprites, floating at her side. Headless. Limbless. Glitched beyond recognition. But they stay near her, loyal still.

She never speaks.

Just watches.

And then, the flicker of firelight catches the edge of something red on her arm—an old Poké Ball symbol, cracked and worn away.

She’s not here to fight.

She’s here because she misses it.

The bond. The battles. The moments before it all went wrong.

She tilts her head back toward you, though you still can't see her eyes.

And somehow… you feel her message.

"Protect them. Before it’s too late."