Okay, this scene from the giant crossover fic I’m writing in my head wouldn’t leave me, so I decided to write it. Warning for character death.

The instant she heard the crack! resonating through the air and felt the shift in the wind currents, Tiera knew what had happened. Spinning around in midair, she was able to spot Jann falling from the sky, his dagger falling from his hand. Her sharp eyes seemed to zoom in further, seeing the spot of blood on the wall behind him that the must have been smashed against.

Everything seemed to stop around her, as she hovered there for just a moment. The sound of fighting and screaming faded into the background.

And then she lunged forward, a desperate screech tearing from her mouth.

“Jann!”

She didn’t even notice that she was dodging bolts of lightning and fire, or the bolt of glitched aura that clipped her side, leaving her flesh stinging and her tattered shirt flashing a myriad of colors.

All that mattered was Jann.

Tiera looked up from the Rattata she was tearing her talons into. They seemed drawn to this human dwelling, and the strange round construction that apparently contained nothing but rot and decay. Perhaps they had been too enthusiastic in this hunt, to get the attention of this dark-skinned human who they were now staring at.

The human stared back at her-a girl dressed in rags too big for her, with a pair of Hoothoot perched on her shoulder and a Quilava at her feet. There was blood on their mouths, and blood on their talons, and flesh in their jaws.

The next instant, she had fled and was gone.

The next time they met, he asked her quietly if she could understand him. She tilted her head. It wasn’t like with her siblings, where they could touch each others’ hearts without worry and understand each other almost wordlessly. But some part of her thought she knew what he was telling her.

“So, you can stay here. In return, you and your Pokemon will take care of my rat problem for me, as well as any other pests that come around here.”

She had heard tales of Pokemon and humans and the contracts they made. Perhaps this was one of them as well. She hovered forward, examining his face for signs of deception.

“Okay, I was not expecting floating…well, that’s okay. Come in. I’m Jann, what’s your name?”

It would be a long time before she could answer him with “Tiera,” the closest she could come to her name. She didn’t even try with her siblings, and so they ended up being referred to by just their relationship to her-Twin, Little Brother, and Little Sister.

But that was fine.

What started as a simple contract slowly started to change. She thought that, if she were to love a human as one of her flock, Jann would be it. If she were to call a human her father, Jann would be it.

When the dragons fought over their town and they had to flee, she took Jann’s hand and did not let go. If anyone wanted to hurt him, they would have to get through her.

When the strange portal opened up and they were sucked in, she held tight to Jann. She would not abandon her flock.

And even now that she was courting another avian in human form, one of the cloudwings, her flock came first. She would not fight in this war for a world that was not hers, a time that was not hers. Her flock would not fight. They would be safe.

And yet…in the end, she stepped out into the battlefield. It was not just because the one she was courting, the one she hoped to make her mate, was there. It was not just because of Little Sister’s insistence, the most empathic of them all. It was not just because she saw the fire-hearted human flock and was reminded of her own.

It was all those.

And Jann, despite all his protests, had come with her.

And he was falling.

Tiera felt as if she had crossed the battlefield in a flash, despite the distance between them. Already she was diving, her hand extended to grab Jann’s, to slow his fall. He was already unconscious, but he was still breathing! She just had to stop his descent-!

There was another crack! as Jann’s head struck the ground, her fingers just barely brushing his arm. She landed, hard, her knees scraping against the ground as she grabbed his wrist, feeling for a pulse like he had taught her so long ago.

There was nothing.

She spun her head around. The human called Nira-didn’t she have the power to bring back the dead? But in the chaos, she couldn’t see any of the versions of that woman who had arrived in this world. She called out, but there was no answer.

(Nira heard the call, she did-but her son had just taken a blow to the heart, her son, her Pompeii, he shouldn’t have been here-and she was standing over him, the earth flowing into his chest, remaking the ruined flesh and sending his blood pumping again.

(It was a blow that would have felled Anza, and Nira could not have that-could not have him die again, not after he sacrificed himself for them, and besides when she took the blow for him she could send a stone-coated fist flying into that bug bastard’s face-

(She had to maintain this shield, she wouldn’t let the hellfire hurt her precious creatures, she couldn’t do that and revive someone, she was so sorry-

(She heard, she heard, but she wasn’t one of the Niras with power to spare, with power from the god of the mountain. Her power was in the lightness of her step and the tip of her rapier, and it was all she had as she danced and parried between bladed arms and carapaced legs.

(It was Vern, this one, Vern and his mount both taken down in one blow, and Dust Storm was still conscious but Vern’s eyes were wide and staring and no, she would not let Death take her love now, not after all they had gone through, he would not die here-

(It was all she could do to hold on to her love’s neck as they flew through the air, her blade slashing at whatever was foolish enough to challenge them. Besides, she had used her last revival already, years before this, because Mako was fragile and he was mortal but now he was here, still here, for just a bit longer.)

Tiera tilted her head back and sobbed, sobbed “father” and “parent” and “mentor” in all the languages she knew, the languages she had picked up, the tongue she was born speaking. She had never called him any of those, had thought that the Noctowl who raised her was the only one she could call that, but she was a fool, should have seen sooner. This was not a word she should have hoarded, she should have learned from the people she met here.

Slowly, still not paying attention to the battle around her, she began to move Jann’s body, until his arms were spread at his sides, his face facing where she figured the moon would be, once all this was over (the sky had been overcast ever since these creatures appeared). She brushed one hand over his eyes, opening the one that had been closed in the fall.

And then she began to sing, in the tongue of the Hoothoot.

She sang of the world beyond, of the ones who would come to guide him there. She sang of the things he had taught her, how to call customers and the art of stocking shelves, how to keep accounts. She sang of the things they had survived together, how they had protected each other. She sang to the guides, calling to them to come despite them being worlds away from each other, to follow her song and guide Jann home.

And when it was over, she closed her eyes for a moment, singing a soft addendum: that they might guide her home.

When her eyes opened again, they were cold and vicious. She had loved only Jann, out of all mankind. She should have nothing tying her to protecting any of the other humans in this fight now.

But Jann was dead, and she would see vengeance wrought upon those who had killed him. And perhaps the best vengeance would be denying them the deaths they wished to cause.

She spread behind her wings of glowing air currents and took to the sky.