The adrenaline that flooded Cynthia’s system burned away the last traces of cold, leaving only raw tension behind. The hair on the back of her neck rose slowly. She’d seen them on the way in, picking at their food, sipping their drinks. She’d seen them turn, one by one, to look at her.

  She just couldn’t hear them.

  Slowly, she turned away from the flickering fire, lifting her chin just high enough to peek over the back of the sofa. The fabric brushing against her hands as she braced herself for balance.

  It didn’t help.

  The sofa had a strange give to it. Not like stuffing or springs, but something softer. Like soft muscle, or maybe memory foam.

  Frowning, she shifted her grip to the ridge instead, and let her eyes drift across the room. When they’d first arrived, she’d been soaked, frozen, too exhausted to care about details. She hadn’t looked at the trainers. Not really.

  But now?

  Now the signs were obvious. They looked normal. Dressed normal. Sat like normal people would.

  But they didn’t move like normal people.

  Every gesture was too smooth, too precise. No fidgets, no shifting in their seats. Their expressions didn’t change. Just the same frozen, polite, neutral smiles. And more than that, there was a strange, uncanny sameness to them. For a second she just stared at them, as they picked at their food and sipped thei—

  Her eyes widened as she took them all in at once and realized what was so off.

  They were synchronized.

  Forks hit plates in perfect unison. Cups rose and lowered in flawless harmony. Every action played out like a perfectly rehearsed performance.

  An orchestra.

  Not a single beat out of place.

  Cynthia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she slowly started to rise—

  Myst grabbed her arm and yanked her down behind the oddly-colored black and red sofa. She stumbled, crashing back into the scratchy inn blanket. Her head hit the cushion behind her, and she blinked up at the wooden ceiling, dazed.

  Then the heat hit her. Her face flushed as she twisted toward him, already opening her mouth, ready to snap—

  Then stopped.

  The door.

  It was gone.

  Not closed.

  Not barricaded.

  Gone.

  The ancient wood with its deep-carved ghost-warding sigils, she’d noticed it the second they walked in, even through her half-frozen haze.

  Now it was nothing but smooth, unbroken wall.

  Kael's eyes lingered on the empty space where the door had been. Then he glanced at them, a bitter smile twitching across his lips.

  “Well,” he said, voice too even. “That’s interesting, now, isn’t it?”

  He gave a slow blink. “I guess I missed some stuff.”

  Myst let out a low groan beside her, eyes drifting once more toward the trainers across the room.

  “I mean, no shit. This is basically horror story territory,” he muttered, gaze locking on one of the men at a table.

  The man took a slow sip of his drink.

  Half a dozen others mirrored the motion in perfect sync.

  “…Which means I’m placing five bucks on Kael being in on it. Never trust the innkeeper,” Myst added, flashing her a grin that was, always, always completely unhelpful.

  Cynthia sighed.

  “Myst, shut up. Kael, you—”

  She stopped, her eyes flickering to Kael again.

  It was strange, wasn’t it?

  Sure, nothing about the situation screamed danger at first glance, but spend even a few minutes with those “trainers” and the wrongness became impossible to ignore.

  The silence.

  The movements.

  The vacant expressions.

  She’d only needed ten seconds to spot a dozen red flags.

  How hadn’t he in twenty minutes.

  Kael raised both hands in mock surrender. “Before you go full paranoid on me, I don’t know why I’m fine, okay? But look at them. Do I look like that? They’re not even blinking. I’m pretty sure one of them has been smiling at a spoon for the last five minutes.”

  Cynthia’s fingers drifted toward her belt, brushing the cool surface of her Poké Balls. Nearby, Queenie had already lifted her head.

  “You could be the one doing this,” Cynthia said flatly. “All it’d take is one powerful Psychic-type. Hypnotize everyone, rob them blind while they sit quietly like good little puppets. We just arrived at the wrong time, so you had to improvise.”

  Kael’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Myst cut in.

  “Cynthia, the head wound,” he said, gesturing toward Kael. “He probably got hit by the same thing as the others. Then he took a tumble, and bam, head trauma fixes brain trauma. Classic.”

  She shot him a withering look.

  What did that even mean? Head trauma fixing brain trauma?

  That had to be one of the stupidest things she’d ever hea—

  She paused.

  Because as idiotic as that sounded… he might actually have a point. Head trauma didn’t fix anything, obviously, but the fall? That could’ve jolted Kael out of a weak psychic hold. Maybe even disrupted a possession attempt.

  If that’s what was happening here.

  She let out a weak breath.

  “Sorry Kael.” She mumbled.

  Then as Kael waved her off, she turned.

  Just hiding wouldn’t tell them anything.

  Cynthia climbed up the sofa, the odd covering feeling almost like fur, and tried to peak over it again—

  Just for Myst’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.

  “Cynthia, let’s not peek until we have a plan, okay?”

  She brushed him off with a glare. “And what kind of plan is going to change anything? It’s not like they’re reacting to anything we do. If they were going to attack when we looked at them, they’d have jumped us the second we walked in.” She paused, glancing towards the trainers, “We need more info.”

  Myst didn’t even blink. “I agree. But what if they only respond when we act out of character or something? Walking in from the rain? Normal. Falling down stairs? Normal. Bouncing up and down behind furniture?”

  He didn’t finish. Just gave her that look.

  She refused to give him the satisfaction.

  “Right. Then tell me, Mr. Haunted House Expert, how does knowing that help us? We sit here second-guessing every move, or we do something. Eventually, we’re going to have to test it.”

  Myst opened his mouth, and she didn’t even need to hear the words to know they’d be nonsense.

  “Guys,” So it was lucky Kael cut in, voice low. “As much fun as it is listening to you two flirt-via-argument, maybe we should start whispering.”

  Cynthia’s irritation paused. She parsed the words, blinked, and felt a sudden, involuntary flush rise to her cheeks as she—

  Froze.

  Three of the closest trainers, the only ones with a direct line of sight to their little corner, were staring straight at them.

  No sound, no movement.

  Just wide, frozen, pleasant smiles.

  Cynthia slowly turned back to Myst and Kael.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “We make a plan.”

  ….

  The first step was simple: retreat.

  Assuming casual movement wouldn’t trigger anything, they quietly slipped out of the main hall, up the stairs to Myst’s room, and shut the door behind them… then locked it.

  Which probably didn’t matter at all.

  “So,” Myst began, keeping his voice low, “what do you guys think? Get Queenie to punch a hole through the wall with Dragon Claw and make a break for it?”

  Cynthia inhaled slowly, then turned toward him. “Myst, those might not look like people right now, but they are. Kael said he was traveling with them. Just because they’re…”

  She trailed off, unsure what word to use.

  “Hypnotized?” Myst offered.

  She nodded. “Maybe. Hypnosis could do this, but…”

  “Wait,” he cut in, frowning. “You mean the move Hypnosis? I thought that just put Pokémon to sleep.”

  “In battle, sure,” Cynthia said, glancing his way. “But that’s because you’re using it against something resisting you, fully alert, actively fighting back. In those conditions, all it can do is knock them out briefly. But on someone unsuspecting?”

  She hesitated, “It can do a lot… more.”

  Myst mulled that over, nodding slowly. “Still. The sound thing, and the door vanishing? That’s weird. I figured this was a ghost thing the second I realized we were the only ones making noise. And when the door disappeared?” He raised an eyebrow. “Like, seriously, what's next? Bleeding walls? I mean could you get more cliché?”

  Kael nodded, tapping the table he was sitting at. “Yeah, this doesn’t feel like Psychic-type behaviour. They mess with minds, twist your thoughts. But this? The silence, the presentation… the drama? That’s classic Ghost. They don’t just mess with you, they set a stage.”

  They all looked toward the door.

  It was still there.

  “It doesn’t matter what type it is,” Cynthia said firmly, eyes narrowing. “What matters is how powerful it has to be. If it’s a Psychic-type? It could’ve picked them off one by one, set this up over time. Find people when their isolated, in their rooms, and use Hypnosis on them… But if it’s Ghost?”

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  Her lips tightened.

  “Then it’s suppressing twelve minds simultaneously. Keeping all of them docile, and controlling them.”

  She looked at Myst.

  “That kind of power? We might need your dumb wall-smashing plan after all.”

  A beat of silence stretched between them.

  Kael exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “We can’t assume the worst. Ghost-types that strong are rare. One just deciding this inn is its new playground?” He gave a tired shrug. “Odds are low. We’d have a better chance of getting hit by a—”

  Myst shot to his feet, nearly knocking over the only empty chair.

  “DON’T JINX IT!”

  Cynthia flinched.

  Kael froze.

  For a long second, they just stared at Myst as his face slowly turned red.

  Myst cleared his throat, looking away.

  “…Just. Y’know. Statistically speaking I’ve had bad experiences after saying stuff like that.”

  Kael stared at him, the rhythm of his finger tapping suddenly still.

  Cynthia’s eyes flicked to him and stilled as she realized he actually looked angry at being interrupted.

  “You—” he started, voice low, but caught himself. His gaze darted to Cynthia, and he swallowed whatever had been on the tip of his tongue. He took a breath, visibly reined himself in, and then turned to face her fully.

  “Against Byron,” he said, tone stiff, “you used a Riolu, right?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Why?”

  “How good is it at tracking Aura?”

  A beat passed.

  She held his eyes a moment longer, then slowly reached down and unclipped a Poké Ball from her belt.

  “Pretty good,” she said quietly. “But…”

  She didn’t finish, instead pulling out a Poké Ball from her belt, and flicking her wrist.

  Riolu appeared in a flash of red light. He turned automatically, scanning for Cynthia—

  Then froze. His gaze locked onto Kael, and his stance shifted in an instant. Muscles tensed. Feet planted.

  “Gabite.”

  The word sliced through the air and Riolu stopped cold, fist half-raised. His body was coiled like a spring, but he didn’t move. Instead, slowly, he turned his head, not toward Cynthia, but up, toward the bed.

  Queenie lay stretched across it like a queen on her throne, chin resting on one clawed hand, eyes narrowed in warning. She didn’t make a sound, but she also didn’t need to.

  “Riolu?” he asked quietly.

  Queenie tilted her head slightly. Then gave a small shake and waved a fin, casual and dismissive, as if announcing Kael wasn’t worth worrying about.

  Cynthia let out a small smile, glancing towards Kael, just to stop.

  His eyes bore into Riolu, face set in an expression somewhere between desire and longing. It was a familiar expression, she had seen it on dozens of trainers, dozens of boys, after getting Riolu… still, it made her skin crawl.

  “Ehm,” she said, deliberately loud.

  Kael jolted, like someone had poured water down his back, and blinked rapidly. Then he turned to her with a sheepish grin.

  “Sorry. Just started thinking about…” He trailed off, gave a half-hearted shrug, and didn’t finish the thought.

  Cynthia didn’t ask him to. Instead, she turned back to Riolu, kneeling down slightly to meet his eyes.

  “Can you check the Aura in this room?” she asked gently. “Look for anything strange—especially traces of Ghost or Psychic energy. Anything that doesn’t belong.”

  Riolu nodded once, slow and serious.

  “And when we go back out,” she added after a beat, “I want you to check the others. The trainers. Look for… what kind of energy is mixed into their Aura. Tell me if something’s influencing it. Or…”

  She hesitated. What she was asking was complex, even for him. Riolu was skilled and recently he had even managed to externalize his Aura… But this?

  This was another level entirely.

  “Can you do it?” she asked softly.

  Riolu paused, then gave a little shrug.

  “Riolu.”

  Maybe.

  Myst, who’d been unusually quiet, shifted. “I could get Ralts to help?” he offered. “If someone’s controlling those trainers, maybe she could sense something. Or pick up the emotions underneath?”

  Cynthia eyed him, noting the twitch of his mouth, like even he wasn’t sure if that made sense.

  Still… he was probably right.

  She wasn’t an expert, but she’d read enough stories, case files, and half-forgotten journal entries to know: possession didn’t always mean unconsciousness. Sometimes the victim remained aware, trapped in their own body, unable to scream. And if that was the case?

  Then Ralts, an empath, would absolutely sense it.

  She opened her mouth to agree—

  “Don’t.” Kael said firmly, “Maybe she could help. But if it’s a Ghost doing this, and it notices her?” His eyes flicked to Myst. “She’ll be a target. Riolu can take a hit. But Ralts?”

  He shook his head.

  “Psychic-types are weak to ghosts. And Ralts isn’t exactly known for her bulk.”

  Myst frowned slightly. “Yeah, but—”

  “She’s an empath, right?” Kael said, cutting him off.

  Myst paused, then nodded slowly.

  “That’s the other problem,” Kael continued. “If she gets close enough, she might feel everything. The panic. The confusion. Whatever the hell those people are going through.”

  Myst bit his lip and Cynthia had to agree, it was a solid point.

  Several solid points even.

  “Okay, sure,” he muttered. “But that’s our plan then? We just… go back out, release our Pokémon, and hope for the best?”

  Cynthia opened her mouth, about to agree—

  Then stopped.

  A slow grin pulled at her lips.

  Myst blinked.

  Then again.

  His eyes widened.

  She didn’t need to say a word.

  Kael still answered, “I mean, pretty much? Just… Cynthia you should make sure your Riolu stays close. We need his eyes.”

  …

  As they walked down the stairs Cynthia wasn’t going to lie.

  Something about watching Rei bounce ahead of them, ears flopping with every step as they moved toward what might be a literal fight for their lives, made her heart feel a little lighter. Hell, even Riolu, trailing behind Rei like a lost puppy, brought a small smile to her lips.

  Honestly, that rabbit was—

  Her thoughts caught short as she nearly walked into Myst’s back. He’d stopped mid-step, crouched slightly, peering down into the main hall.

  “Wait a second,” he mumbled.

  Cynthia leaned to the side, trying to see what he was looking at, but his frame blocked most of her view.

  She glanced back and Kael just shrugged.

  Without another choice she sighed, stepping slightly to the side, and let her eyes instead fall to the stairs beneath her feet.

  They looked brand new.

  Not well-maintained.

  New.

  The wood was smooth and polished, not a single scuff or groove to suggest they’d ever borne the weight of dozens of travelers.

  Cynthia felt her expression flatten.

  That officially made them the most boring thing in the building.

  “This is going to be interesting.” Myst said, then slowly rose to full height.

  Cynthia snapped her eyes back to him, immediately catching the way his posture had changed, tense, alert.

  “What?”

  Myst frowned. “Nothing’s changed,” he said seriously.

  She stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out how that qualified as a problem. Then, just as his lip began to twitch—

  She rolled her eyes and slugged him lightly in the arm.

  Idiot.

  “Riolu, Kael, and people not named Myst, follow me down. Myst, you can stay here or throw yourself out a window. Whatever you find more useful.” Her mouth tugged up into a smile.

  Myst grinned back, of course. But, predictably, he still stayed right beside her as they made their way slowly down the steps. Though, as they reached the bottom, Cynthia had to admit it—Myst wasn’t wrong.

  Nothing had changed. The trainers were all exactly where they’d left them.

  Still picking at their food.

  Still sipping from their cups.

  Still wearing those soft, eerily pleasant smiles.

  Or, well—

  One thing had changed.

  They were all staring at them now.

  Cynthia tensed, but she didn’t make a move. If they weren’t attacking, there was no reason to attack back… and she couldn’t exactly have Queenie fire off a Dragon Rage into a room full of potentially mind-controlled people.

  So instead, she did the only thing she could. She glanced at Riolu and gave him a sharp nod.

  Riolu didn’t need more than that.

  His eyes began to glow faintly, a cool blue shimmer dancing across his irises. Then he stepped forward, passing the worn edge of the long, overstuffed sofa they’d been sitting on earlier.

  Cynthia barely gave it a glance, letting her eyes roam over the trainers.

  They didn’t move, but their eyes followed them, heads snapping one by one to whoever was closest. Mostly that was Rei, who moved across the room like she owned it, glancing at everything with sharp, curious eyes.

  Cynthia sighed.

  Honestly, Myst really needed to get some control over that rabbit.

  Her eyes flicked toward her own team. In situations like this, unfamiliar place, potential threat, you needed your Pokémon to stay sharp, to stay put. Running around was a risk, not a privileg—

  She froze.

  Roselia stared at an open chest in the corner.

  He stood there for a long moment, silent and still, then slowly reached in and plucked out a long silver chain. He held it up to the dim light, watching it glint with quiet curiosity… then, apparently unimpressed, let it clink gently back into the pile.

  “Riolu,” Kael called out, voice cutting through the silence. “Do you see anything off? Anything that feels wrong? Ghosts can hide in objects, you know.”

  Riolu paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. Then, slowly, he shook his head. Kael exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across his face. His gaze swept over the room again, not even lingering on the other trainers for a second.

  It was like Kael didn’t expect the threat to come from the other trainers, but rather to be hiding among them. Something else, tucked just out of view.

  She glanced at a nearby trainer and forced herself to not shudder.

  Every second the trainers kept smiling their empty smiles, every second they sat just a little too still, was another second she expected them to lurch forward all at once and attack. Really, she still half-expected they’d be running for their lives the moment whatever was controlling this place decided it was done pretending.

  But as the minutes ticked by, and Rei eventually stopped bouncing, her posture dropping and her ears sagging flat to the floor, Cynthia began to realize something else.

  If there was a threat here, it wasn’t attacking them just for being in the room.

  “I guess your theory’s busted, Myst,” she called over her shoulder. “Or do you think half a dozen Pokémon walking all over the inn for ten minutes is still within the limits of normal?”

  Myst gave a quiet laugh as he walked up beside her, his hands in his pockets.

  “I forgot to ask,” he said lightly, “how long does Hypnosis last?”

  Cynthia blinked. “You think whoever did this already left?”

  Myst shrugged, glancing around the room. “I mean, maybe? If it’s a ghost, then yeah, it’s doing a great job of creeping us out. But if it’s a Psychic-type? We could probably just wake them up, right?”

  He dropped his bag to the floor, unzipped a side compartment, and pulled out a water bottle with practiced ease. Then, without hesitation, he started toward one of the trainers.

  He never made it there.

  Kael’s hand snapped out, fingers locking tight around Myst’s wrist

  “Don’t,” Kael said, voice low and firm. “We can’t wake them yet.”

  Myst paused, turning to look at him. His gaze sharpened. “Why?”

  Kael hesitated for a beat, like he had to line the words up in his head before they made sense.

  “Because…” he said slowly, “I think the ghost might be… split. Across everyone here. That’s why it’s not doing anything; it doesn’t have the strength to. I— I even think I remember it. Something rushing into me, and then I blacked out. Fell.”

  He touched the edge of his bandage.

  Cynthia frowned. “Ghosts can do a lot of things, but they’re still one Pokémon. They don’t just… split. Even the really powerful ones only control multiple people through tethers.”

  Kael’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Tethers, maybe that’s what I remem—”

  Myst cut him off, his voice suddenly tight.

  “No. He might be right, Cynthia.” His eyes swept the room again, slow and deliberate now. “And if he is… we might be a little bit fucked.”

  Cynthia stared at him, at the way he lowered the water bottle with new caution, retreating a step from the trainer he’d been about to splash.

  “What do you mean, ghost Pokémon that can split?” she asked, taking a step closer, only to freeze as a nearby trainer’s head snapped toward her with eerie precision, unblinking and wrong.

  Myst stepped back again, voice quieter now.

  “So… uh, you ever heard of Spiritomb?”

  Cynthia and Kael both shook their heads.

  Myst let out a slow breath, glancing around the room like he was hoping it would offer him a way out.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” He muttered, glancing around the room again, “So here is the deal. According to my memory, Spiritomb is a Ghost-Dark type. But it’s not like other Pokémon. It’s not a ghost.”

  He looked at her, eyes unreadable.

  “It’s one hundred and eight of them. One hundred and eight separate spirits, bound together.”

  Cynthia blinked.

  “You mean it’s made out of one hundred and eight different Ghost-types?” she asked, voice flat and deceptively calm.

  Myst looked at her.

  And smiled.

  It wasn’t a smile.

  “Well,” he said softly, “I sure hope not.”

  For a moment, Cynthia just stood there, her mind trying to wrap itself around the implications. One hundred and eight ghosts. Even if every single one was something like a Shuppet or Ghastly, some of the weakest ghost-types imaginable, it would still be a force far beyond anything they could handle.

  And that was if they were lucky.

  Her voice was low, but steady. “You should release Ralts.”

  Myst blinked, glancing down at his belt. “Why? I thought you agreed with Kael—”

  Cynthia cut him off. “Myst, we need her to check if those people are possessed by a Dark-type. If you’re right about Spiritomb, then this is out of our league. At that point, we don’t play hero, we contact the authorities. I can use my Pokédex to flag an emergency, have them send in a response team.”

  Myst pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. Instead he nodded, reaching for Ralts’s Poké Ball—

  Until Kael’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist again.

  “Don’t,” Kael said firmly. “You shouldn’t risk your Pokémon like that. I’ve got more badges. Let me handle it.”

  Myst paused, blinking at him, before he offered a grateful smile.

  Kael nodded, releasing his grip and reaching for one of the Poké Balls clipped to his belt.

  Cynthia tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit.

  Ralts was fragile, even for a Psychic-type. She might be ready for three-badge battles, but not this. Not against whatever they were dealing with.

  And Kael?

  He had five badges. Any Pokémon strong enough to be on his team should be tough enough to handle a quick scan or even a surprise attack. For something to seriously injure them in a single blow… it’d have to be Elite Four-level.

  So why hadn’t he mentioned having a Psychic-type?

  “Riolu!”

  The cry snapped Cynthia’s attention. She turned sharply, eyes locking onto Riolu, standing beside the uncomfortable sofa they’d been sitting on earlier.

  His head was tilted.

  But not in confusion.

  His eyes were glowing. Brighter than she had ever seen. Aura shimmered through them like light caught in water.

  “Riolu.” He said, firmly.

  I found it.

  He lifted one trembling paw.

  And pressed it downward, not toward the trainers, not toward any object, but into the sofa.

  His paw hit the cushion and—

  Stars.

  A pulse of Aura burst out in a blinding wave, a rippling shock that passed through the room like thunder without sound.

  Reality shattered.

  The inn flickered.

  A hill.

  Then a cave.

  A storm of color and sensation as the world twisted, no, rewrote itself.

  And then—

  A scream.

  Agonized.

  Ripped from somewhere deeper than lungs.

  Cynthia’s mind reeled as she saw a million different scenes, a million difference places, and then, just as suddenly, the inn returned.

  Quiet.

  Still.

  Except… every single one of the trainers was gone.

  The shriek came again.

  Not from across the room, but from everywhere.

  She barely even noticed, her heart dropping like a stone as her hand flew to Riolu’s Poké Ball.

  Riolu was slumped on the floor, unconscious. Completely drained. His Aura had burned itself out so hard she felt ice lace through her chest. She rushed towards him, then pressed the Poke ball to his body.

  “Good job,” she whispered as her fingers trembled on the recall button.

  She returned him, eyes moving up again and landing on—

  The sofa.

  The one they'd been sitting on.

  Red, black and—

  Cynthia felt her eyes widen.

  —and screaming.

  She took a sharp step back.

  The sofa shuddered.

  Myst came up beside her.

  The frame moved.

  It shouldn’t have; it didn’t look natural.

  Not that it seemed to matter to the sofa as it bent at angles like it had limbs.

  Elbows formed.

  Knees appeared.

  The fabric split with a sickening stretch as something dark and ragged uncoiled from within. Eyes blinked open where buttons used to be. Blood, if it could be called that, dripped in thick, poisonous trails.

  Purple.

  Toxic.

  A massive gash stretched across one of its legs.

  It staggered.

  Clutching an egg to its chest.

  Not protectively.

  Desperately.

  Cynthia stared.

  It stared back, eyes burning with hatred and pain, its red hair flowing like spilled blood.

  She usually didn’t need her Pokédex. Professor’s granddaughter. She could name hundreds of Pokémon on sight.

  But this?

  She had no idea what Pokémon this was meant to be.

  A voice spoke behind her.

  Calm.

  Quiet.

  “Hello, Zoroark.”

  It wasn’t Myst’s.