Chapter 9 Burnt out

  Before he knew it the first week of February had passed in a blur of snowfall, chalkboards, and the warm glow of oil lanterns in the academy halls.

  Wendel and his team had settled into a rhythm. The snow crunched beneath their boots as they arrived at quarter to five in the morning, breath steaming in the air. Gretchen and Rhys worked in tandem against Cecilia it was a test of coordination, tactics, and precision.

  They started simple: Gretchen soared into the sky, aiming aerial attacks and dives toward Cecilia.

  But this time, Cecilia didn’t dodge, her eyes glowed faintly as a ripple of energy spread through the air.

  Gretchen cried out, her wings refusing to catch air no matter how hard she flapped her wings.

  She fell like a stone to the ground. “What the hell was that!”

  A sly grin spread across Cecilia's face “Gravity”

  “Well, that’s terrifying, how about we save that trick for our enemies, shall we?” Gretchen pleaded.

  Wendel chuckled. “Noted.”

  Cecilia teleported instantly, reappearing behind Gretchen and placing her hand at the back of her neck, a mock finishing blow.

  But the moment she blinked into view, Rhys was already moving.

  The little Riolu’s aura sensors flared, locking onto her presence with uncanny precision. He pivoted on one foot and launched a Drain Punch, striking her squarely in the side before she could fully land the mock strike. The blow pushed Cecilia sideways, it wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough.

  Cecilia staggered back, stunned, then let out a breathless laugh. “He’s getting faster.”

  Wendel’s eyes lit up. “First clean Drain Punch. You got her!”

  Rhys looked down at his paw and flexed it. A small, satisfied nod.

  Gretchen smirked. “Looks like it’s time to take it up a notch.”

  They regrouped, spirits high. The team was getting stronger and not just physically.

  And occasionally, Bea passed through.

  At first, she only paused for a breath between her training jogs. But as the weeks wore on, she lingered longer. She’d nod a quiet “Morning,” watch a few exchanges, then offer precise, efficient advice.

  “Rhys, your footing’s off. You need to lower your center of gravity.”

  “You’re pivoting too wide. It wastes energy.”

  Then she’d jog on, vanishing into the trees, ponytail swaying behind her.

  Wendel never said much. But more than once, as she disappeared, he caught himself watching her go.

  Thursday night Wendel sat at the corner table in the far wing of the library, his usual stack of books half-forgotten as he scribbled notes in the margin of his evolution theory journal.

  Across from him, Annabelle was flipping through a volume on healing herbs, but her eyes had drifted more to Wendel than the page.

  “So…” Wendel began, his tone casual but clearly building toward something. “I was wondering if you might want to come by my room after classes this Saturday?”

  Annabelle raised an eyebrow. “Your room?”

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling slightly. “I figured maybe we could do a little birthday dinner. Nothing huge. I’ll cook…well, try to, and I just thought it might be nice.”

  She blinked, surprised, then smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well Mr. Ironwood that sounds…really sweet. I’d love to.”

  The night of February 7th came. Dinner had been simple, roasted skewers, green beans and buttered rolls. To top it all off, an apple pie he’d somehow managed not to burn.

  A soft instrumental track played through the small speaker on the shelf, and a pair of candles flickered on the table.

  Annabelle sat cross-legged on the plush armchair, cheeks faintly pink from laughter and warmth, when Wendel stood and pulled a small wrapped box from his desk drawer.

  “I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I got something for you. Just… close your eyes.”

  She gave him a mock suspicious look but obeyed.

  He placed the small box gently in her palms. “Okay. Open.”

  Annabelle peeled back the velvet slowly and then her breath caught.

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  “Happy 16th Birthday Annabelle”

  Nestled inside was a smooth, gleaming Fire Stone, its core flickering like a captured flame. Light from the candles reflected off its surface in deep orange and gold hues. She stared, silent for a long moment, before finally speaking in a whisper.

  “Wendel… this… you shouldn’t have.”

  He shrugged sheepishly, sitting back down across from her. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because… Hank means the world to you. And because you mean the world to me.” He paused. “I figured you should be able to help him take that next step.”

  Her eyes shimmered, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t seem to have words.

  Then, without thinking, she leaned across the table and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

  It lasted only a moment, but when she pulled back, her cheeks were glowing.

  Wendel froze, stunned into silence, heart suddenly thudding faster in his chest.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, holding the stone like it was the most precious thing in the world.

  Wendel nodded, trying to steady the warmth blooming across his face. “Happy birthday, Annabelle.”

  And for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They just smiled.

  In the morning the fields were coated with frost. The grass crackled underfoot, and a thin mist clung to the ground. It was 4:42 a.m., and Wendel’s team was already in motion.

  Cecilia darted across the field, shimmering in the rising glow of her own Light Screen panels, dodging aerial attacks from Gretchen. While Rhys tried to time his attacks between Gretchen’s trying to catch Cecilia unaware.

  Wendel called out encouragement from the edge of the field. “Don’t chase her tail, Rhys, predict her movements and aim where she will be, not where she is!”

  Then, from the edge of the path, a familiar rhythmic thud approached.

  Bea.

  She slowed her jog, hair tied back, sleeveless hoodie zipped up against the chill. “Your early” she noted, folding her arms.

  Wendel grinned, just a little sheepish. “Trying to keep up with the best.”

  Bea gave a light shrug.

  “I brought someone today,” she said. At her side, a Hitmontop spun into view, nimble and balanced on one leg. “He’ll work with Rhys. Physical forms. Defense rotations. Stance drills.”

  Rhys stood straighter. He wasn’t smiling, but his aura sensors flared with excitement.

  They moved to a smaller patch of clear ground, and Bea stepped back.

  “Rhys,” she said, using her pronunciation of his name with crisp syllables, “watch how Hitmontop uses balance. You’re strong, and fast. But momentum without control is wasted energy.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Rhys was a blur of movement — spiraling, striking, pivoting, falling and getting back up. Bea occasionally called out a form. “Tighten the elbow. Shift the hips. Follow through the centerline.”

  Wendel could only watch, a little awestruck.

  There was beauty to it, the kind only martial artists and poets truly saw.

  By the time the sun crested the treetops, Rhys collapsed backward into the grass, panting, exhausted, but utterly exhilarated.

  Bea knelt, offering him a hand up. “Good work.”

  She gave Wendel a glance. “He learns quickly. Keep that up.”

  “Thanks for the pointers, I appreciate it more than you know.” He replied.

  “Sure thing, don’t let up.” Bea replied

  And then she jogged off without another word, melting into the morning mist as if she’d never been there at all.

  Rhys sat on the grass, panting.

  Wendel dropped beside him and extended his fist. “Have fun?”

  Rhys let out a short huff through his nose, nodded once, and tapped his paw to Wendel’s knuckles.

  “Bea is a much better instructor than I am. Books only convey so much.” Wendel said aloud to the team.

  Cecilia slipped into his mind like a whisper, “Only at throwing a punch, don't forget that.”

  Days turned into weeks. The snow melted from the hills outside the Academy, and with it, the sharp chill of winter gave way to the sluggish warmth of spring.

  Lessons seemed to blur together. Battle tactics, League law, evolution theory. Each day was packed with tutoring sessions in the library, training at dawn with Cecilia, Gretchen, and Rhys, and hours in the stacks studying aura, adaptations, and Professor Rowan's mind-bending work.

  It was all starting to pile on.

  And Wendel, for the first time in months, found himself sitting in the quiet corner of the library, staring at a page he couldn’t bring himself to turn.

  He needed a break.

  By midafternoon Saturday, he and Cecilia stood hand-in-hand just outside the gates of the Academy, and in a shimmer of white light, they vanished.

  Mistridge hadn't changed. The trees still danced in the wind just behind the house. The porch still creaked under his footfalls. And when the door opened—

  “WENDEL!”

  His mother nearly tackled him in a hug, her arms wrapping around him with the kind of force only a mother could summon. “Oh, you’re freezing! Come in, come in! I’ll start the fire.”

  His father stood in the kitchen, arms crossed with a mug in hand, watching them with a slow grin.

  “You’ve grown,” he said as Wendel took off his boots. “I swear, you’re taller.”

  “I think I’ve just been slouching from carrying too many textbooks,” Wendel joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

  The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Dinner had been light, roasted vegetables, thick slices of buttered bread, and a little bit of smoked meat. Now they sat together, the three of them curled in the warmth of home.

  “So,” his father said, leaning forward. “How’s school treating you?”

  Wendel exhaled, leaning his head back against the couch. “Busy. Really busy. I didn’t think it’d be this hard to juggle everything.”

  “You’ve always juggled too much,” his mother added knowingly.

  “But I’m managing. I’ve been tutoring after class every day. Mainly potions and biology trying to make a little money where I can. Training every morning with Rhys, Gretchen, and Cecilia. Reading everything I can find on aura. And evolution theory? It’s like a rabbit hole I can’t get out of.”

  “Still love it?” his father asked.

  He nodded. “Studying how Pokémon evolve, why they evolve, maybe even why humans don’t. It is fascinating.”

  His mother smiled. “That sounds fun.”

  A quiet pause filled the room before she looked over and gave a mischievous grin.

  “So, how’s your girlfriend?”

  Wendel nearly choked on the tea he'd been sipping. “What—?!”

  “Annabelle, right?” she teased.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, his cheeks glowing red.

  Cecilia, beside him, was trying very hard not to smirk.

  “Oh come on, Wendel,” his dad chuckled. “You two are always together.”

  “She’s just—she’s a friend,” he stammered. “We study together, we train together… okay, I gave her a birthday present, but it wasn’t! That doesn’t mean she’s!”

  His mom reached over and ruffled his hair. “Relax. I’m just teasing. It’s sweet.”

  He huffed, leaning back with a glare toward Cecilia. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

  “I’m not saying a word,” Cecilia said with an innocent smile.

  “But if I were saying words, they might sound a lot like, Wendel and Annabelle sitting in a tree...’”

  “Cecilia!”

  They all laughed, the sound bouncing off the old wooden walls and mingling with the crackle of the fire.

  It was a night he hadn’t known he needed.

  A night to feel like a kid again.

  To just be home.

  And in the warmth of his parents’ smiles, and the flicker of the hearth, and the soft press of Cecilia’s hand beside him, Wendel remembered that before everything else, the training, the danger, the dreams of something bigger, there was this.

  Family.