Two more years passed.

  The forest changed around Rosaline, and Rosaline changed with it.

  What began as a quiet clearing with a restored house had grown into something softer and fuller. The garden now stretched wider, bordered by low stone walls that Roselia had helped her coax from the earth. Berry trees stood taller than Rosaline’s shoulders, their branches heavy with fruit in the warm months. Lanterns lined the winding path to the porch, glowing gently at dusk.

  And Ralts had grown.

  It had not been sudden.

  First came Kirlia, light-footed and graceful, moving through the clearing as though it were dancing to a melody only it could hear. It had grown stronger not through battle, but through trust. Through mornings spent watering seedlings. Through evenings listening to Rosaline read aloud in the study. Through steady companionship.

  Then, one early spring dawn, something shifted.

  Rosaline had felt it before she saw it. A swell of emotion so deep and radiant it caught her breath. When she stepped outside that morning, Kirlia stood at the edge of the garden, bathed in soft light. Its form shimmered, lengthened, transformed.

  And when the light faded, Gardevoir stood before her.

  Tall. Elegant. White gown-like body flowing like fabric stirred by wind. Green hair falling smooth and luminous. Red horn curved proudly at its chest.

  Its eyes, when they met hers, were the same as they had always been.

  Steady. Gentle. Devoted.

  Rosaline had wept openly, laughing through her tears as Gardevoir wrapped her in an embrace that felt both protective and reverent.

  Now, on a quiet summer morning, Rosaline sat on the back deck with that same Gardevoir beside her.

  Steam curled from her teacup, rising lazily into the sunlight. The air carried the scent of ripe berries and warm grass. Butterfree drifted through the clearing in lazy arcs, and Pikachu lounged near the steps, tail twitching idly.

  Gardevoir stood just behind her chair, one hand resting lightly on the backrest. Its presence filled the space without crowding it. A quiet strength that hummed beneath the surface.

  “You’ve grown taller than me,” Rosaline said lightly, glancing up at it.

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  Gardevoir tilted its head, a faint smile touching its features.

  “I suppose that was inevitable.”

  She took a slow sip of tea. It tasted of chamomile and a touch of honey harvested from wild Combee that visited in spring.

  “I am glad,” she added softly. “That you chose to stay.”

  Gardevoir’s hand moved from the chair to her shoulder, a silent reassurance. Its psychic presence brushed gently against her thoughts, warm and protective.

  Always.

  Rosaline closed her eyes briefly.

  She no longer felt the sharp edges of her past every day. The memories were still there, but they no longer ruled her breathing. The forest had given her room to heal. The Pokémon had given her reason to stay present.

  After finishing her tea, she set the cup aside and rose.

  “Come,” she said. “The berries will not pick themselves.”

  They walked together to the garden. Buneary darted between the rows, nibbling at fallen fruit. Roselia inspected blossoms with practiced care. Pikachu scampered up one of the lower berry trees, shaking a branch playfully until Rosaline gave it a look.

  “Gently,” she reminded.

  Pikachu froze, then complied.

  Rosaline reached up to pluck a cluster of ripe Oran berries, placing them carefully into her basket. The fruit was plump and vibrant, nurtured by careful watering and soil enriched with her remembered seeds from another life.

  Some plants still carried the subtle difference of that old world. Herbs that smelled faintly of kitchens she had once imagined escaping to. Tomatoes that grew sweeter than expected. Wildflowers that bloomed in patterns not native to Sinnoh.

  They had adapted.

  So had she.

  When her basket was half full, she knelt and separated a portion onto a smaller cloth.

  “These are for you,” she said to the gathered Pokémon.

  Buneary’s ears perked. Roselia inclined its head gracefully. Pikachu dropped down from the tree, landing with a soft thud. Gardevoir watched fondly, its gaze lingering on Rosaline more than the fruit.

  They ate together in companionable quiet.

  The rest of the harvest would go to Eterna City later that afternoon. She had built a quiet reputation there. The woman from Home and Hearth purchased herbs regularly. The Poké Mart occasionally bought surplus berries. No one asked too many questions. No one pried.

  Rosaline preferred it that way.

  She stood and brushed her hands clean.

  “I will go into town after midday,” she said. “Only for a short while.”

  Gardevoir’s eyes flicked toward the forest edge, sensing something before Rosaline did.

  A ripple.

  Faint at first. A tremor in the psychic air. The kind of disturbance that did not belong to wind or wild Pokémon.

  Rosaline paused.

  “Do you feel that?” she asked quietly.

  Gardevoir’s posture straightened. Its presence sharpened, protective energy coiling beneath its calm exterior.

  The ripple grew.

  Then...

  A distant explosion cracked through the forest.

  The sound rolled across the trees like thunder, birds bursting into flight in startled waves. A plume of smoke rose beyond the treeline several miles away, dark against the bright sky.

  The ground trembled faintly beneath Rosaline’s boots.

  Silence followed, heavy and wrong.

  Pikachu stood rigid, ears upright. Buneary froze mid-hop. Roselia’s vines stiffened.

  Rosaline’s heart pounded once, hard.

  That had not been a storm.

  She turned slowly toward the direction of the smoke, the basket of berries forgotten at her side.

  Gardevoir stepped in front of her without being asked, its eyes narrowing, psychic energy flickering faintly around its form.

  The forest, usually so gentle, felt tense.

  Something had disturbed its quiet.

  And whatever it was, it was not far enough away.