Edward

[Felix Morrison]

Okay, here it is... my not-quite-a-trainer-fic that I consider to be my best work to date. I'm a bit hesitant to post it here without the third chapter prepared, but that one is already nearly done, and I should be finished with it by the end of the week.

And, please... leave feedback. ANY feedback. I posted this on fanfiction.net and it so far has not generated a single review. I want to make this as good as I possibly can and advance myself in a writer, but I cannot if people do not tell me what I am doing wrong.

So, without further adieu, I present

Edward

~Chapter 1: Heart of Darkness~​

The Forest of Ilex contains many secrets, hidden in the gloom under the dark canopy of leaves. Some are sinister, foreboding sounds in the underbrush as the trainer walks by; some are inexplicable, luminescent pulses off in the distant leaves, seen by a solitary eye; some are ancient, steadfast reminders of what once was and what will be, lasting beyond the sight of each generation that passes under the trees. That which the forest hides remains hidden.

Humans and Pokemon alike have known this since time immemorial. The forest keeps these memories, forgotten by the outside world, jealously within its dark domain. The woodsman may see these reminders- a shrine, overgrown with ivy- but will never understand them. The trainer might glimpse these memorials- a stone, blanketed with lichen, etched with esoteric runes- but will never pay them heed. The Pokemon might enjoy these mysteries- a solitary tree, yielding fruit found nowhere else in the forest- but will never know their full past.

That which the forest hides remains hidden, from mind as well as sight. Its secrets are safe, for Time is their guardian. Those who hide secrets in the forest are safe.

For there are those with much to hide…

-------------------------------------------------------


Dark.

Of course, it was almost always dark here in the manor, so why should it make a difference just on this day?

Because Edward had a headache, that’s why. He should have trusted his premonition last night and stopped reading at one in the morning, but, blast it all, Felix was right about the Dune series. They were immensely deep and too good to put down. So now he had awoken and had a headache from lack of sleep. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Most of the manor had absolutely no electrical lights, save for the Lowmind areas. Thus, when the weather turned cloudy or stormy, as was the case today, the closely surrounding trees of the Ilex forest blocked out all but the faintest glimmers of sunlight from the Highmind areas. Edward’s room was one of only five quarters in the shade of the shade of the tallest and largest tree in the forest, known as Celebi’s Tower. This was the most revered area of the manor, the home to the five highest Highminds of the Morrison clan- the Godminds. Celebi’s Tower blocked even the slightest shimmer or ray of light from these areas, leaving the Godminds to constantly exercise their Sight for even menial tasks.

A headache only made things inconvenient. It was no problem to a psychic of any potency to see without light, but doing so all the time required much concentration and with a headache, to put it bluntly, hurt like the dickens. Edward resigned himself to a morning of throbbing temples and nursed coffee, sighing as he got up, tiptoeing expertly around the scattered papers on the floor and opened his wardrobe. If it was possible, the wardrobe’s insides seemed darker than the rest of the room, but this mattered little.

Edward concentrated, ignoring the protests of his overtired mind. The question was, what to wear today- especially today. He had to differentiate himself from the other Godminds to make a good impression… though Oberon was a moot point. No, Alexander and Felix were the primary problems…

After some consideration, Edward selected a red tunic with golden trim and buttons, emblazoned with the complicated Morrison crest and accompanied by flared sleeves and khaki trousers. There, neither of the other two would choose something like that. The rest of the clothing would be packed away before he left.

Edward rubbed the sides of his head gingerly, but this did nothing to alleviate the hammers pounding within. It would be a relief to get into the courtyard for breakfast just for the little light afforded so he could stop concentrating on extrasensory perception. Adjusting his sleeves, he picked his way once more across the cluttered, unseen floor and slipped out into the dim corridor.

-------------------------------

Dark.

No, not truly dark, thought Alexander as he pried his bedspread off of his bare chest, revealing the soft, red, pulsating light emanating from the jewel hung around his neck. Not with this thing always there.

Well, at least it allowed him to focus on more important matters than simply seeing the world around him. He left that to nature’s own devices.

Alexander swung himself out of bed, but did not so much as wince when his feet touched the ice-covered floor, nor did he so much as shiver when his bare skin touched the frigid air that curled his breath into wisps of cold, white vapor. He chuckled; this was what he was given liberty to do without the strain of the second sight- let the other Godminds try and train as they might, but as long as they locked themselves within tired, archaic practices, they would never achieve this.

He smirked and chuckled at his own achieving as he did first thing nearly every morning. And what a glorious morning it would be! Today he would have his chance to finally distinguish himself from the other Godminds and in so doing establish himself firmly as the familial heir, the lifelong dream of any Morrison Highmind.

But there was no comparison between him and any other Highmind, even any other Godmind. None of the competition could match his degree of capability or knowledge, of that he was assured. It would be no challenge at all to overcome the foreign Lowminds that held the clan from power, not to any Morrison worth his salt.

And in just a few months… Alexander licked his lips as he envisioned in his mind’s eye, clearly as if he had possessed the ability of premonition, himself upon the Seat of the Gods, supreme ruler of the clan with tendrils of influence all over the world- Johto, Kanto, Hoenn, Shinou, America, China… a shiver went down his spine, in no part due to the cold.

There were formalities to attend to first, however. Alexander strode across the room to his wardrobe, a towering mahogany creation that sported carvings of ancient hunters in the arctic pursuing a herd of Walrein upon its doors and rim. The constant blood-like light emanating from his pendant threw sinister, skulking shadows about the room, as though a great multitude of fiends rested just outside of its glow. Alexander paid this no mind, being occupied with the much more pressing matter of what to wear. He finally opted for an aqua-blue Chinese dragon robe adorned with the vibrant red markings mimicking the legendary Kyogre as well as a pair of navy blue silk slacks. It would certainly stand out in the eyes of the foreign Lowminds, but his was exactly his aim; the more that noticed him, the better.

Holding his pendant out in front of him like a lantern, Alexander stepped out into the black corridor and began to make his way down to the courtyard.

--------------------------

Dark.

But to a Ralts who ordinarily went through life with its bangs of hair forever in front of its eyes, this made no difference whatsoever. It meant only the difference of staring at monotonous blue or pitch black, which were not altogether different in practice.

Oberon yawned and unfolded himself from his curled sleeping position. As he unfurled the flaps of skin that protected his lower torso and legs from their resting position over himself like a blanket, he distinctly heard (and felt) most of the bones in his back crack.

Ow… in just what position had he slept? He couldn’t tell now that he had unfurled himself, but judging from the way his shoulders-

Crack, crack. Ow… yes, definitely- he had somehow managed to get his head between his legs while he slept. Never mind the fact that, though the bones of a Ralts were more flexible than the later stages of the line, he couldn’t have even done that if he were awake. Because he was nearly four times as tall as a regular Ralts due to his unique parentage, there was simply more bone to hurt.

Crackle, craaaaack. Erg… but that did seem to be the last of it. Oberon levered himself off of his mattress on the floor of his chamber…

…and managed to get his foot tangled in his own skin flaps, sending him flat-faced onto the floor. Oberon groaned; it wasn’t that seeing was any difficulty in the gloom- just his own klutziness. After all, Godminds were chosen for their mental potential, not poise.

Ah, well, hopefully the day would get better from here. The day in which the Godminds would be sent out to fulfill their mission in the outside world had finally arrived, so things would become… interesting at the very least. His brother was good company besides, so the prospect of the journey was an enjoyable one.

Yet even so… Oberon looked about his somewhat Spartan chamber with his inner Sight, “seeing” the objects of his stunted childhood in the Morrison Manor: some early bent spoons, the glass-enclosed bookcases that held the classics of literature, the few small wooden blocks he had been allowed when very young, yet even then was forbidden to touch. He had known no world aside from this one and the miles of virgin forest around that kept the Manor from outsiders. Though he and all Morrisons learned of the world outside of the forest more thoroughly than the mundane students of the rest of the world ever could, many never experienced it firsthand. It was a wholly voluntary choice to leave the Manor; most Lowminds opted to stay as servants to the family, and even some Highminds never left, living lives of ease, scholarship and relative luxury. The family would support a member no matter what decision they made and would be there always if he or she fell on hard times- the Morrisons took care of their own.

However, there was a difference between prerogative and expectation in Oberon’s case that couldn’t be called fair by any stretch of the imagination. He did not wish to leave the Manor, but in the case of a Godmind, it was not encouraged that he carve a niche into the outside world, it was expected.

What was more… if he and his brother succeeded on their mission, the obscurity and feeling of security that the dark forest afforded might be inaccessible for them ever again. It had to happen sooner or later, though; the Morrisons did not require much, but it was required that a family member complete a task allocated to them to the best of their abilities. From dishwashing to living as an outside agent for a time to running in elections, this was nonnegotiable. And it was expected of him to make this journey with his brother.

It had to happen sooner or later… being timid forever wasn’t an option. Oberon knew this, but it gave him no comfort.

The forest guard me… he thought as he took his slow, ambling steps, making special care not to trip over his skin flaps again, into the corridor that was as gloomy as his thoughts.

 

[Felix Morrison]

~Chapter 2: The Tempest~​

As was to be expected, the courtyard of the Morrison Manor was bustling with activity even at such an early hour. Servants of the family of all sizes, ages and specie scurried about under the weight of trays laden with exotic imported berries from Hoenn, Blissey eggs cooked in every conceivable manner, Tauros steaks, pastry confections in curled, flowery forms, Farfetch'ed dumplings and much more. There was more than enough to whet any manner and size of appetite save that of a Snorlax, but even in quantity, the Morrisons unanimously insisted upon quality.

Even as Edward's personal servant, tutor, and companion in so much more, a beautiful Espeon by the name of Helena, laid his breakfast of Qualot berries and Feebas roe in front of him with a great mug of coffee on the side, he began to take note of such details as this as he had never before done. Perhaps it was merely the fact that he would not see the familiar familial gathering place for a great while, but Edward did not accredit himself with such sentimentality, assigning it instead to a way to exercise his mind.

The courtyard itself was no small area, if an image of a lesser walled garden might be conjured by the word. No, at over an acre in size the word "courtyard" hardly did it justice, but even in the five hundred years since the Manor was erected no replacement term could be found, so a "courtyard" it remained. It was hedged entirely on the sides by weathered bluestone walls at five feet in height and overhead was covered by the dense Ilex canopy. The trees turned this area into a cool, shady respite on sunny days and into a shadowy cavern on overcast ones. However, this communal area did not fall under the restrictions of light under which much of the Manor was placed, as even Lowminds performed daily chores and activities here. Thus, for their benefit, small trees bearing the sour Lumes berries, each of which gave off an intense glow in the few short hours that they ripened before rotting, had been placed every twenty five feet or so around the perimeter. Many servants carried about a berry on their tray simply in order to see.

Because the courtyard was used on a daily basis, the weather was simply a nonissue. In cases of foul weather, four Xatu would stand- as they were, in fact, doing today, noted Edward- at each of the four corners of the rectangular area and maintain a barrier to keep off the rain, snow or other threat of nature. Lovely. It was perfect weather for one of the Godminds, at least.

This thought prompted Edward to look about at the table at which he and the other four Godminds sat. Made of the rich imported mahogany wood that the family so favored, it was tiny in comparison to the great oak banqueting tables that sat literally hundreds of Lowminds and Highminds residing at the Manor, though the two were strictly divided at mealtimes on either side of the courtyard. Though separated in terms of ability, there was no bad blood between the members of both divisions, unlike the schism that tore his own level asunder. He wondered again if his grandfather's decision to maintain this segregation was truly right.

He glanced to the center of the table, beyond his short brother who sat to his right, seeing the impassive look on the face of the Wobbuffet that stood perfectly erect, observing all before him, having finished his own meal far before the arrival of even the earliest of risers. It was a curious thing, mused Edward, that the Patriarch of the great Morrison Clan should live so long preserved through the minds of other hosts. As far as the records of the family knew, no other psychic had been able to accomplish such a feat. The power necessary to overtake and rewire the mind of another, whether willing or not, and the records said that both had occurred many times, was unmatched by any other Morrison in the five hundred years that he had lived. Even in the unseeming body of the Wynaut, now a Wobbuffet, that he had last overtaken, he radiated an air of power and authority that kept the rest of the family in check, should their opinions ever move against him. He looked also at his other, silent dining companions to the right of his grandfather. There was Alexander seated at the far end, tucking in energetically without a trace of reservation into a blood pudding, dressed equally as indiscriminately in attire like a peacock. In between he and his grandfather sat the far more sensibly dressed Felix, clad in an unassuming forest green cardigan sweater and sweatpants. Felix never assumed. This was perhaps why he was loved by most of the family, his striking simplicity and sincerity a stark contrast to the maneuvering, dangerous game of familial politics that constantly was being waged within and without the Manor. Even his breakfast choice of a bagel with lox was sensible, bordering on plain. Directly next to him was the youngest of the Godminds and his brother-by-mind Oberon seated upon the specially made booster seat crafted to compensate for his lack in height compared to the other Godminds (not at all unusual by the familial standards, as he could clearly see mingled representatives of all sorts of specie seated upon similar contraptions at both High and Lowmind tables), repasting upon a meager selection of Oran berries and mint leaves… perhaps his stomach was unsettled? That was understandable, mused Edward, considering just what exactly he would have to set out to do today. It was enough to make anyone of any mental training nervous.

The revelation was hardly sudden. He had, perhaps, known all along but not acknowledged the fact. Nonetheless, it was disconcerting to hear it formed, clearly and fully in his mind, as an audible thought. These Godminds are today my enemies. Panicking for a moment, he glanced to his right to see if any of his counterparts had been attentive enough to pick up on the thought; he did not intend the thought to be used for telepathy, but a psychic as powerful as they could hear a thought on a whim if he so wished. They did not betray any sign that they had heard- apparently, none were concentrating on subterfuge at the moment. However, he was still heard by the one person who was paying attention to him. Helena set the tray she was levitating on the ground and padded over to the Godminds’ table.

Do you really feel that way, Edward? she asked through their own special telepathic link. Edward could feel the undertone of this thought: no one can hear you through this- you can talk freely.

How could I reasonably not, Helena? All of us have been preened especially for this day since birth. All of our training- even your instruction, though I cherish it greatly- has been to create a set of living weapons that can gain back the power that we Morrisons once held. All of the Godminds strive for the same goal.

If you believe that, Edward, then you are a fool. Do you honestly think that we think of you as being so expendable as that? Despite the icy snap in the meanings of her words, her tone was warm and loving as it always was with him. And I should think that having the selfsame goal would allow you to call yourselves allies.

Not when the goal is so mutually exclusive. I know that the family does not consider me as merely a weapon, but I nonetheless resent the fact that we four are essentially thrown into a race with power as a goal. Only one of us can gain the reward from this, and each knows it.

Is life only this family, then? Is life only power, acquisitions, influence, mind? Her deep, obsidian eyes met Edward’s fiercely red ones, each of them gazing deep into the other’s consciousness, trying to make the other understand. You of all the Godminds should know that. To speak of reward… that makes you sound like Alexander. Edward shuddered at the thought.

And to speak of discontent makes me sound like Felix…raw ambition and raw malcontent. I am a mix of the two, a product of perfection. He chuckled at his thought, but Helena’s eyes flared, and he immediately regretted his words.

Sarcasm does not become you, Edward, she said, her tone cool but level. I want you to keep things in perspective. Or have you forgotten my most fundamental lessons? One such as you is a gift to the world- not merely because of your power, but also your heart and disposition. There is no one comparable to you in this family or otherwise; of this I have been convinced since I began to know you. Therefore, do not be so fearful that you will lose the opportunity of garnering a reward for yourself and your brother. You have position already, and your life will ever be an easy one if I can at all help it.

Edward smiled as he mulled these words over. Helena was right, of course; to borrow a phrase from Felix’s constant sermonizing, he had bought in too deeply into the “dogma” of the family maneuvering and intrigue. Let Alexander’s ambition run wild, let Felix work through his journey in his own way. Oberon and he would simply do their best, regardless of what the goal set before them should be. If they could knock Alexander off of his ego while so doing, then all the better. In the meantime, why worry?

Thank you, Helena. You are right, of course.

When have I ever been otherwise, my dear Edward? she asked, her eyes sparkling. And I will send someone for you when the time comes some months from now, for I know you have concerns about me that you do not voice. Do not worry about me while you are journeying. Edward’s expression turned to a frown as he mulled over the implications of this.

You still have no idea how long it will take, then? Even with your prescient ability better than my own?

We are psychics, not clairvoyants- that is Felix’s power, not yours. I have told you before that the normal time is five months, but considering what we have done it may well be longer. I have assured that no one will know until it becomes physically apparent. Have you told anyone?

Only my brother. I felt that he should have the right to know. Helena closed her eyes, her thoughts taking on a quality of white noise that any telepath came to recognize as the mental equivalent of “hmm…”

That is alright, she replied at length. If you must have a confidant, he is the best choice. I think that I need not tell you to guard your mouth closely on your journey.

That should be intuitive.

“Ah… Edward?” broke a new voice into their mental reverie. Edward looked to his right where he saw Oberon standing on his booster seat in order to tap him on the shoulder. “Grandfather is going to speak. You need to stand.” He glanced back at Helena, who nodded once.

I will speak to you again before you leave. She padded away to the Highmind table and took a spot near the end.

Edward stood as he saw the other Godminds so doing, flanking either side of their Wobbuffet grandfather. He raised both of his arms imperiously, asking for silence with a gesture that all of the family had come to recognize, but that nevertheless in his current form looked somewhat comical. Edward thought he heard a snicker.

He spoke. This was always a very uncomfortable thing for all those that heard him to endure, for even in his current form- not given to any sort of mental exertion in and of itself- he was still powerful enough to project his words through telepathy to the hundreds of Morrisons before him. A mind that could do that exerted a potent and painful force on any that heard it, and so he usually kept his words few.

My brethren, I do not intend to keep you for long, he said, prefacing his remarks with the reassurance that most desperately wanted when he began to speak. But there is a need to call your attention to this day- a day in which we will regain our pride as a family, a day in which we will have no need to hide our doings from the outside world any longer. A murmur went through the throng of family listening. Edward thought that most orators would need an exclamation point here to emphasize their point, but Grandfather was different. Whenever he wanted to drive a hard point, he simply increased the pressure on the mind of the listener so that one took more notice. Edward’s temple throbbed with renewed vigor each time he punctuated his speech with the word “day.”

Now, I do not wish to demean the work that all Highminds and Lowminds do here and elsewhere on a daily basis by this proclamation, but for centuries now our efforts to gain a foothold in the world have been stunted by the fact that we have been shunned- misunderstood by foreign Lowminds who are repulsed by our way of life and by arrogant outsider Highminds who do not realize that it is the duty of the strong to safely lead the weak. Grandfather threw his arms over above his head once more. Everyone braced for impact of impending exclamation points.

We are the strong! It is we who should rule! Only we who have removed ourselves from the world can truly understand it to bring peace. For this I have kept myself alive all these years, that my dream might bear fruit in due time. That time has been a long time forthcoming, brethren, for we have until now lacked the strength to overcome these misguided outsiders that would far rather govern themselves with their purely human statutes and feeble laws. He swept his arms wildly out to the sides, nearly knocking over Oberon and Felix, though the latter had deftly leaned back out of the Wobbuffet’s range a few seconds before the frenzied gesture.

Long have we waited for those that could have the strength to overcome this stagnant and corrupt system on its own rules without satisfaction. Yet in this past generation we have birthed not one but four- here Edward shut his eyes at a sharp pain at the front of his forehead. If Grandfather did not finish this soon, his headache would turn into a migraine. He continued- four Godminds, each to their own specialty and power. If this is not a sign from those gods that rule even us, may they strike me down here. We have devoted ourselves to their preparation for this day- the day in which they will challenge the system of the outsiders on its own terms. One of them is destined to succeed in this attempt, but which? A bead of cold sweat began to roll down Edward’s cheek, the pain making him grit his teeth. “Do not intend to keep you for long, indeed.” Surely he must realize what his mental probing did to those that listened; it was short only of the invasion that he enacted on a new body every few decades.

Edward felt a cooling relief spread over his body, his muscles unclenching- odd, he hadn’t noticed he had been so tense- as the pain pounding away on the inside of his skull subsided into a realm in which he could bear it. Helena was facing him once more, her eyelids closed tightly and twitching as she took on the pain raging within him into herself. Edward felt a lump form in his throat as he realized this sacrifice, but there was no time for reflection. Grandfather continued relentlessly on.

Shall it be Alexander, whose ambition to rule is greater even than the need that we perceive? Shall we hand him the power over this world and family, and allow him to depose me? Shall I allow it? The look of shock on Alexander’s face was priceless, Edward noted. It was exceedingly droll that everyone knew of his egotism but him.

Shall it be our Felix, who as we all know can tell any of us what will befall us by a mere glance? This was exaggeration, Edward knew. Felix possessed incredible prescient ability, but certainly couldn’t tell you just upon your asking what, say, you would have for breakfast the next day, or what your cause of death would be. Or, perhaps, he thought, he had never been asked. Shall it be he who we have given the Blood of Origin, who can look into the past to see the Aruseus looming over the cosmos and into the future to see the death of this universe?

Grandfather shouldn’t get poetic, broke Felix’s refreshing and distinct mental presence into the grandiloquent rant. I can’t do a single one of those things that he said. A smile formed on more faces than just Edward’s, all of whom were glad for the brief reprieve.

Shall it be our Oberon, our own proof that the result is greater than the sum of its parts? Shall the world outside be ruled over, ultimately, by one who can understand both the world of nature and the world of man that subdues it? Oberon shuffled his feet timidly under his flaps of skin.

So it was his turn, then. Edward felt an undercurrent of his Grandfather’s mental process trill up his spine. It was entirely wordless, as his words were fully occupied at the moment, but the meaning was clear nonetheless: don’t you dare mess up your image.

Or shall it be Edward, the sole Godmind ever born of the process of Mind Birthing, whose power will one day exceed all of the others combined? Shall we allow him to rule on promise, or on ability? Can a creation of even our artifice surpass those that are natural? This may have bothered one of lesser training, but Edward knew the question to be literal, not rhetorical. And he knew the answer to be yes, with a touch of pride that was dimmed by Helena’s constant admonitions, ever at the forefront of his mind, of humility.

Brethren, you must today say your farewells to these bastions of our family’s power if you have not done so, for they today begin their journey into the outside world. Wish them well and make every provision for their success. Grandfather lowered his arms and went back to the stoic position he had earlier affected, staring out at nothing and everything. Well, it was a bit abrupt, but that seemed to be the end of it. The other four Godminds sat once more.

Edward heard Alexander’s mental voice, its tone and flavor of steel and ice distinctly his, break into his consciousness as he hefted the spoon for his long-forgotten breakfast. And what was there important in all of that monologue that we needed to hear? Why waste our time with that and give us headaches, to boot?

Apparently the message had been Alexander’s own special brand of attention-grabber and not simply directed at Edward, as Oberon rose to the bait. It wasn’t meant for us, though, was it? If Grandfather wished to give us a message before we go off today, he would have done so individually, and he might still.

It was meant for the Lowminds, Alexander. Most of them are not allowed in the chambers of the Highminds except for reasons of servitude, so how would they know that we would be setting out today? Most of them never get a chance to even speak to us, we’re so busy all the time, interjected Edward. This would probably be a mistake and would just erupt in anger eventually, but he could not stop the thought.

You say most, dear cousin. Why any at all? Why should we concern ourselves with the affairs of the Lowminds of this family?

Alexander, stop it. You are being decidedly nasty, broke in Felix. Edward’s consciousness was feeling decidedly crowded.

Oh, shut up, Felix. Consider, all of you, what I am saying for once, will you? And don’t harangue me about this, either you or Oberon, Edward. Your mental presences feel like salt, and I don’t need that after one of Grandfather’s speeches.

That’s an encouragement, you know, chuckled Oberon.

Oh, why do I bother? Anyway, listen carefully. I realize that my philosophy on rulers and leaders is very different from yours, which is why I believe I am superior in this respect, but that’s beside the point. The question I am trying to ask here is whether or not Lowminds are deserving of our attention, either human or Pokemon. Are they?

Edward’s temper flared. Are you saying that you want to rule without responsibility, Alexander? Do you think all Lowminds are unintelligent?

In a manner of speaking… yes. You seem to forget why we journey today- we will eventually usurp the Lowminds’ League, or whatever they so term it, and when one, and only one, of us is seated as Champion, we overthrow the system to allow the family to take its place. There is no room in this plan for self-governance of the Lowminds and Highminds of the outside world; they are the very reason that they are destroying themselves. My responsibility for the Lowminds is for their well-being, not their comfort. The attention that I will lavish upon them will be an iron fist.

I see that Machiavelli would be envious of your enthusiasm. Would you kindly explain how you will do this to Dark-types, dear Alexander, or am I simply missing a part of your plan here? asked Felix. You seem so assured that you will be the victor in this contest by merit of your power alone, but I do not See you or any of us ruling in that manner you describe.

Are you saying that none of us will succeed, Felix? asked Oberon.

I am saying that Alexander is mistaken in his approach. Although, all have known this from the start.

Your prescience has too many variables to be wholly accurate, Felix. Who, then, do you see upon the seat of Champion, say, a year from now? inquired a sneering Alexander.

The image flickers every moment- you should know that, replied Felix in his longsuffering tone.

Then do not propose to preach at us, Felix! All of you think that you are so great, so noble merely because of your mongrel pedigrees. I, a mere human, cannot hope to contend with such greatness, now, can I?

That is enough, Alexander! This thought came from not one but five sources at once, causing Alexander to cringe back under the weight of their venom. The three Godminds had all “shouted,” of course, but who else was there? Ah, yes… that would be Crassus, Alexander’s Alakazam tutor. The last was Helena, her beautiful brow furrowed in anger and her obsidian eyes glaring daggers. Edward hated to see her like that- curse that egotistic fool!

Under the pressure of so much opinion against him, Alexander backed down. Very well… I concede. If you will not listen to my ideas, as no one ever does, I shall have to prove them myself. Good day, cousins. Though he kept the feeling and force of this last statement pleasant enough, he nonetheless stared down at the remains of his sangeous breakfast in surly silence.

Edward raised the spoon to his mouth, seething at Alexander’s audacity. His Feebas roe had gotten warm. He spat it out in disgust.

 

[Goldliop]

I anbsoloutely love the description of the ilex forrest in the first couple of paragraphs.
Use quotes for the dialogue...
it lets people know when it's speech as opposed to description...

 

[ebenzener]

I, too, absolutely loved the story. Continue, continue.
*claps*

 

[Felix Morrison]

There is a reason that the vast majority of the dialogue is in italics, rather than quotes, which will become clear as time goes on. To clarify, if I italicize a long string of sentences it is typically telepathic or mental dialogue or monologue. And, yes, the one instance of actual speech is intentional.

But thank you. I know my writing style can be a bit heavy to slog through at times, but just bear with me; I don't intend to disappoint.

 

[Felix Morrison]

Wow, I got this done earlier than I expected. Don't expect more updates anything like as fast, though.

~Chapter 3: Fathers and Sons~​

They had insisted upon a photo shoot. Edward probably should have seen it coming and Felix probably had, but it didn’t make the tedious process any less annoying. The family would probably have it enlarged and framed by an outside source to put in the massive hall kept for just such significant happenings, forever a reminder to the family and the world of the four Godminds who would either make or rewrite history on this day.

Each of the four Godminds stood at the forefront, of course. Their order was no indication of hierarchy- it was merely the order in which they were always seen and portrayed: by order of age, from eldest to youngest. First stood Alexander, his blue robe fashioned with the Titan of the Seas clashing vividly with his amber skin and limpid platinum blonde hair, posing in a sneering position for which he would always be remembered when the camera caught him in its eye. Behind him stood his tutor, Crassus, the aged Alakazam bending with arthritis so that he stood considerably shorter than his charge; next to Crassus, almost as an afterthought, stood Alexander’s Lowmind mother and father, their tiny statures and visages not reflected in the guise of their comparatively giant son.

Felix stood next in line, his clothes and fluffy light red hair, along with his perpetual half-smile, making him seem a far softer figure than his younger cousin. Felix had no living immediate family to speak of at the manor and his tutor, Edward’s Uncle Cassius, was unfortunately unavailable due to his job as director and conductor of the Goldenrod Philharmonic Orchestra, so he himself stood alone. Cradled gently in his arms was Felix’s Chimecho, its light, airy form and cheerful smile a foil for its owner’s.

Dwarfed by his father and tutor, who were one in the same, Oberon stood hunched, as though he feared the camera. Edward and Oberon’s father, the Gardevoir that the family knew as Puck, brushed the long blue bangs out of Oberon’s eyes with a tender gesture, revealing the large, striking blue eyes that Oberon’s mother had given him. They formed such a contrast with his father’s own dull red orbs that Edward wondered, not for the first time, how he and his brother could have come from the same parents. Nonetheless, Oberon shrunk from the contact, telling their father that he preferred his eyes to stay hidden. Edward sighed as the hurt that their father kept so well hidden sprung into his eyes for a moment, but it receded just as quickly and he instead moved his hand to Oberon’s shoulder.

Why did Oberon have to be that way? Certainly, he had been far closer to their mother, who had been his original tutor, but could he not see how his father loved him so? Why could he not allow himself to open to that affection? Could he not see that their father still grieved as much as he himself?

Too many questions, too many empty answers. Edward shook his head as Grandfather fiddled with the tripod of the only camera the family could find, hearing him mentally curse as his unwieldy hands knocked the thing off of the stand for the umpteenth time. At his own feet stood Helena, regally poised and patient as ever. Her figure formed a nice contrast to his own appearance, thought Edward, her deep, black eyes offsetting his own red ones nicely; her fur, too, he thought was a nice accompaniment to his own distinctly Morrison red hair, but this was perhaps taking the comparison a bit too far, as he was naturally inclined to be a bit biased towards his tutor.

He did not know how long they stood in such static poses, but it seemed an age. Grandfather finally managed to get the camera set up (after delegating the task to Edward’s second cousin Philip) after yet more setbacks, and it was sometime in mid-afternoon when the four Godminds at last began to say their goodbyes.

The Godminds, their tutors and parents all stood at the far gate at the south end of the courtyard, the reaching branches of the Ilex Forest just creeping over the bluestone walls, dripping forlorn little raindrops onto the ground of the courtyard. Alexander reveled in this sort of weather, and it only served to boost his insufferable confidence as he proclaimed to his gushing parents promises of swift, calculated victory.

Edward’s own parting was much less loud. As tightly as he could manage, Edward and Oberon’s father grasped one of their hands in each of his- a gesture that was nonetheless saddening, the grip was so feeble.

I wish for both of you to know that you have made me more proud than I could have ever imagined, he said to them, teary eyes looking them both over, as though he were trying to imprint their images in his memory forever. That I should have fathered not one but two of the greatest psychics that this family has ever known… it is overwhelming. He turned his eyes to the ground, his tone becoming melancholic instead of proud. But I nonetheless feel that this is a last goodbye… I shall not see you again as you are now.

Father… replied Edward, troubled by Puck’s deeply saddened mental voice. It is for but a while that we part the manor; why are you so troubled?

“H-have we done anything to earn your disfavor?” asked Oberon in his squeak of a voice. Their father simply shook his head.

No, do not be troubled on my account, my children. This… this is simply difficult for me to do. We Gardevoir can be so attached to those that we love that we can barely let go even for the greater good. A smile played about their father’s mouth even as a tear rolled down his alabaster cheek. But I shouldn’t have to tell you that; you are, after all, my children.

Edward grasped his father’s hand as hard as he dared, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface in his eyes. Oberon merely looked at the ground.

Slowly and with a clear amount of internal effort, Puck released his grip from his children’s hands. Taking a deep breath to steady his own raging emotions, their father continued: I will speak once more as a father and once as your tutor, Oberon, and I shall begin with the latter. I expect you to come back from this journey different than as you are now. You are a sniveling, shirking coward though you possess a potential of strength beyond even mine- and you would not be glaring at me so if you knew it to not be true. I have done my best in the stead of your mother to give you the mind and abilities that you will need no matter what you will do with your life, but you lack any sort of confidence. I am, for this reason, ashamed to call you my son. Oberon seethed beneath his masking bangs; could his father, his supposedly loving father, really be saying this without a touch of regret?

And you, Edward, though I am not your tutor, I ask you this as a tutor and superior, and not as a father. Will you make sure that Oberon complies with this?

Edward nodded to his father. It should not be too difficult to keep him in line.

Oberon raised his voice indignantly. “Keep me in line! I have just as much a stake in this as he!”

Well, this shows that you were listening, at least, replied their father, chuckling silently. His eyes and tone softened once more. And now I may speak once more as father. Oberon, I have something here for you… something that I know you have coveted ever since I first began to wear it.

In the strictest sense, their father wore only one thing. “What? You can’t mean… not mom’s locket? But… she gave that to you…”

And what is to stop me from giving it to you? You will fight loneliness as well as battles on this journey, my sons, and this will give you hope. Any way in which I can be of help to you is worthwhile. Puck slipped the slender, golden chain off of his neck and placed it, with only a slight pause, into Oberon’s small, trembling hands.

“…thank you,” said Oberon quietly, not meeting his father’s face as he stared at the small piece of jewelry in his hand. At length, he slipped it over his own neck, where it reached down fully to his waist due to his lack of height. A subdued little smile crept onto his face. Edward and Puck exchanged one last nod before Puck closed his eyes and simply vanished.

So… that was it, then. They were left to their own devices.

Not quite yet, dear Edward; I think you would be a mess if I left you entirely to your own devices. I have but one thing that I must tell you. Ah, yes. He had all but forgotten his own tutor.

For shame, she chuckled. Am I that easily forgettable?

Not at all, Helena. What was it that you wished to say to me? Looking about, he could not see her anywhere in the expansive courtyard. His heart sank; so he would not see her once more before he left. She must have been called to something inside the manor… that had to be it.

Sentimentality is not how we thrive, dear Edward. At any rate, that which I did not have a chance to tell you this morning is that- her stream of thought ceased, abruptly, for just a moment. That was odd; Helena almost never misspoke or corrected herself. Nonetheless, her thoughts came to him strong once more, as though there had been no interruption. My apologies; I do not know what came over me.

Are you feeling well, Helena? asked Edward with an intentional tone of concern.

Do not be so concerned for my welfare. I merely lost concentration for a moment. I only wished to give you the motivation before you left that I will personally watch you at Mt. Silver if you should be successful in your endeavors. She paused once more. Take care, Edward.

I shall. With that, their link closed, and for the first time in that day, or, indeed, for years, Edward felt in his mind…

…nothing. No presence of any kind. They were truly on their own, then.

“Now what?” asked Oberon.

Edward sighed. Now for business.

-------------------

Four Godminds going in the same direction would have been suicidal. No matter how withdrawn or pleasant each of them tried to be, the presence of so many others with equivocal powers would lead them to destroy each other. Such instincts were only barely contained in the manor. Thus, it was decided after a remarkably civil discussion that Felix and Alexander would take the path north to Goldenrod City while Edward and Oberon would head south through the woods to Azalea Town.

An outsider that were to look at the pair of brothers carefully picking their way through the wet, mossy underbrush and dripping branches with umbrellas held over their heads would never think of them as woodsmen by any stretch of the imagination. They resembled pale, gangly introverts lacking for exercise more than anything else, but moved with a practiced step through the dense woods as a Goldeen through water. Every now and then one of them would gesture and a branch would shift upwards over their umbrellas to let them pass. A more astute observer would note that though they were slogging fairly rapidly through sodden underbrush and leaves, their feet made no discernable sound, and though the taller of the two was wearing archaic clothes that made him look like the son of a Johto nobleman of antiquity, no branch or burr ever snagged even a thread of his vêtements grandes.

All in all, the Morrisons were not good woodsmen. The woods simply did what they wanted, or else. It was generally considered a good arrangement, as no woodsmen, no matter how hard they looked, would ever stumble across the manor. A shame, really, thought Edward. They always had so much food to spare.

As Edward and Oberon tramped through the sodden forest and a particularly stubborn bough that was frantically trying to lift itself high enough to clear their passage was ripped from its host tree for lollygagging by Edward’s gesture, Edward asked his brother, Oberon, you have been this way more often than I. How far is it to the main path?

“Oh? Erm… about half a mile I believe. Why?”

Since we are, for lack of a better term, Pokemon “trainers”¬- Edward’s mental tone as he all but spat the word was a calculated mix of sigh, disgust and the placating voice one uses on a spoiled child. Though I certainly fit the description better than you, it would be prudent to find some sort of capture in these woods before we get on the main thoroughfare, do you not think?

“Well…” hummed Oberon, hearing the underlying question beyond the simple affirmation that Edward had asked. “There is a Nidoran about a quarter mile to the east. Everything else around here seems to be under cover due to the rain.”

Can you tell what gender?

“How would I know?!” snapped Oberon; the misty rain had been playing havoc with his hair ever since they left the protective barrier of the Morrison’s courtyard weather shield, and he was not in a good mood. “They have very… uncomplicated minds. There’s little to read.”

Edward sighed. Point taken; it was a stupid question. Still, it is better than nothing, and I do believe it will be no trouble. He began to walk off deeper into the woods, but Oberon’s voice, a touch of malicious chuckle creeping in, called after him, “Edward, that’s west.”

I knew that, he replied, pivoting in place and thrusting ahead with his umbrella as if there had been no interruption.

------------------

Most Pokemon in the world could be classified as being at the low end of Lowminds as creatures that functioned totally or very nearly so on instinct and needs. Some built up a semblance of a social structure, but there was no true power in it, as most Highminds knew. Yet even these were the minority, and most Pokemon simply lived out their days as sole agents of instinct: eating, living, hunting, mating, dying. The rule among these most minor of species was by strength alone. They knew no other way.

However, in less than a million, even a hundred million, there is sometimes the oddball that is bred. They might lack in strength, but what they lack in power they make up for in… ideas.

The tiny female Nidoran scuttled gleefully along through the thick Ilex underbrush, not minding the rain at all even though it made the creature’s thick fur sodden and heavy. She loved the rain, but couldn’t understand why she never saw any others out foraging when the tears of the trees fell down. Oh well, it meant she could gather more food, even if it meant crossing over to another Nidoran’s territory, who would just run her off if it was bright-light-time.

She remembered that she cried when she was sad. Maybe they were sad because the trees were sad? Why were the trees sad, then? She had lost one of her cubs in dead-tree-time last year… did the trees cry because a little-tree died? She chewed a juicy-looking plant as she thought about this in her dim, wandering way.

If that was so, then why was everyone else in the forest sad? Should she be? Was it wrong to be out foraging like this? But… didn’t the tears of the trees feel so good?

The little Nidoran held onto the plant with her teeth until the very last minute as she was lifted into the air; it was so hard to find this kind, and she wanted to savor it until the very last minute. So… there was someone else out here when the trees were crying. Probably a big Ursaring, she thought. After all, she would have been an easy target if there were anyone else out. She wondered if she would taste like the plant she had just eaten.

It occurred to her as she hung limply in the air that she didn’t feel anything holding her up. Was this why she never saw anyone else out when the trees were crying? Were they going to hurt her?

She saw two figures picking their way through the trees to where she hung suspended in the air, holding two strange mushrooms in the air off of which the tears of the trees fell off, keeping those under them dry. Gee, she had never thought of that before. If others could stop the tears of the trees from hitting them, they could go out as they wished. She saddened at the thought; she liked being alone out here.

Oberon couldn’t hide his puzzlement. “Well, this is the Nidoran I detected, but…”

There is something wrong with it?

“If you would wish, you could call it that. It doesn’t feel any fear or puzzlement that-”

She, Oberon, interrupted Edward. This is a female.

“…very well, she,” replied Oberon with a touch of exasperation in his voice, “does not feel any sort of fear or that anything is out of the ordinary as you hold her there.”

Has she any idea what we are?

“Not that I can tell.”

Good, replied Edward, digging in the satchel that hung at his side. He raised an Ultra Ball in his fingers. She should offer no resistance to this, then.

The Nidoran saw that which Edward was holding and began to panic, thrashing about and squeaking in high-pitched tones of fear even as she hung in the air. She knew what that was- another tall thing like the two of them had used it on a fellow Nidorina with whom she sometimes foraged when food was plenty. It had eaten her up in one big gulp and the tall thing had taken her away while the little berry thing was still wiggling. She somehow knew that the little berry thing hadn’t eaten her friend like she ate the plants and that her friend still had the in-out breeze in her, but she didn’t want to be taken away like her friend had been. Not while she could still enjoy the tears of the trees. She bared her little fangs at the tall things, lowering her ears in a threatening way and raising the tiny poisonous barbs that blended so neatly into her fur.

Edward sighed. I suppose we could not count ourselves so lucky. Shut her up, would you, Oberon?

“Very well.” Oberon stood still, looking down at the ground with his umbrella in hand as he focused his thoughts on a single leaf, memorizing every vein and contour of the cracked, brown- possibly oak- husk. He snapped his head up, brushing his hair out of his eyes as they met those of the Nidoran, still hissing and spluttering ineffectively in the air. She continued on her little rampage for a moment, then instantly fell limp and quiet as she stared into Oberon’s unblinking blue eyes. She couldn’t understand where the two tall things had gone, or why she saw nothing but leaves. Had they…? She could not even think of a question.

Edward casually tossed the Ultra Ball which enveloped the Nidoran with a flash of light. It did not shake even once before the capture mechanism clicked into place, sealing the little creature’s fate.

What a strange little creature... Interesting technique, by the way, said Edward. My hypnosis isn’t quite as strong as that. How do you do yours?

Oberon let his hair fall back and looked up at his brother’s face, his eyes and expression thus obscured as usual. “It isn’t hypnosis. Mom taught me that; her ways always work better for me than Dad’s.”

Oh… Quickly changing the subject as he saw what was clearly a sullen look descend on his brother, Edward snapped his umbrella forward, spattering his brother with stray raindrops. Oberon gave an indignant glare.

We have to get going; Azalea Town is still a long way off, and I don’t relish the thought of tramping through these woods until all hours of the night.

Oberon shrugged. “Alright then; follow me.”

The two continued on into the damp forest, the trees seemingly closing behind them, leaving no trace that they had ever been there.

And night descended on the Ilex Forest.

 

[Arcanine Royale]

Review as per request, though I do like it...

And in just a few months… Alexander licked his lips as he envisioned in his mind’s eye, clearly as if he had possessed the ability of premonition, himself upon the Seat of the Gods, supreme ruler of the clan with tendrils of influence all over the world- Johto, Kanto, Hoenn, Shinou, America, China… a shiver went down his spine, in no part due to the cold.

That statement is a bit redundant. We, your readers, aren't stupid. We are intelligent, and realize obvious stuff like that.

Dark.

But to a Ralts who ordinarily went through life with its bangs of hair forever in front of its eyes, this made no difference whatsoever. It meant only the difference of staring at monotonous blue or pitch black, which were not altogether different in practice.

I like the repition of this sequence. It really adds to the chapter. But be careful... don't use it too much.

Yet even so… Oberon looked about his somewhat Spartan chamber with his inner Sight, “seeing” the objects of his stunted childhood in the Morrison Manor: some early bent spoons, the glass-enclosed bookcases that held the classics of literature, the few small wooden blocks he had been allowed when very young, yet even then was forbidden to touch. He had known no world aside from this one and the miles of virgin forest around that kept the Manor from outsiders. Though he and all Morrisons learned of the world outside of the forest more thoroughly than the mundane students of the rest of the world ever could, many never experienced it firsthand. It was a wholly voluntary choice to leave the Manor; most Lowminds opted to stay as servants to the family, and even some Highminds never left, living lives of ease, scholarship and relative luxury. The family would support a member no matter what decision they made and would be there always if he or she fell on hard times- the Morrisons took care of their own.

Nice little back-cracking sequence. Also, 'spartan' should not be capitalized. Nice paragraph here too. Though maybe you should start a new paragraph. Most readers usually skip over the long paragraphs.

However, there was a difference between prerogative and expectation in Oberon’s case that couldn’t be called fair by any stretch of the imagination. He did not wish to leave the Manor, but in the case of a Godmind, it was not encouraged that he carve a niche into the outside world, it was expected.

Like the choice of encouraged and expected here. It really adds a lot.

But the first chapter is great, perfect length and such. I like the strong voice you used. Though it might be a little too "boring" for some. That could be fixed by adding a tense prologue that might grab reader's attentions.

Great first chapter, though...

On to chapter two...

As was to be expected, the courtyard of the Morrison Manor was bustling with activity even at such an early hour. Servants of the family of all sizes, ages and specie scurried about under the weight of trays laden with exotic imported berries from Hoenn, Blissey eggs cooked in every conceivable manner, Tauros steaks, pastry confections in curled, flowery forms, Farfetch'ed dumplings and much more. There was more than enough to whet any manner and size of appetite save that of a Snorlax, but even in quantity, the Morrisons unanimously insisted upon quality.

Species has an 's' on the end no matter if it is singular or plural.

Even as Edward's personal servant, tutor, and companion in so much more, a beautiful Espeon by the name of Helena, laid his breakfast of Qualot berries and Feebas roe in front of him with a great mug of coffee on the side, he began to take note of such details as this as he had never before done. Perhaps it was merely the fact that he would not see the familiar familial gathering place for a great while, but Edward did not accredit himself with such sentimentality, assigning it instead to a way to exercise his mind.

That's the second time in this chapter that you repeated "and so much more." Do mean "and" instead of "in"?

He glanced to the center of the table, beyond his short brother who sat to his right, seeing the impassive look on the face of the Wobbuffet that stood perfectly erect, observing all before him, having finished his own meal far before the arrival of even the earliest of risers. It was a curious thing, mused Edward, that the Patriarch of the great Morrison Clan should live so long preserved through the minds of other hosts. As far as the records of the family knew, no other psychic had been able to accomplish such a feat. The power necessary to overtake and rewire the mind of another, whether willing or not, and the records said that both had occurred many times, was unmatched by any other Morrison in the five hundred years that he had lived. Even in the unseeming body of the Wynaut, now a Wobbuffet, that he had last overtaken, he radiated an air of power and authority that kept the rest of the family in check, should their opinions ever move against him. He looked also at his other, silent dining companions to the right of his grandfather. There was Alexander seated at the far end, tucking in energetically without a trace of reservation into a blood pudding, dressed equally as indiscriminately in attire like a peacock. In between he and his grandfather sat the far more sensibly dressed Felix, clad in an unassuming forest green cardigan sweater and sweatpants. Felix never assumed. This was perhaps why he was loved by most of the family, his striking simplicity and sincerity a stark contrast to the maneuvering, dangerous game of familial politics that constantly was being waged within and without the Manor. Even his breakfast choice of a bagel with lox was sensible, bordering on plain. Directly next to him was the youngest of the Godminds and his brother-by-mind Oberon seated upon the specially made booster seat crafted to compensate for his lack in height compared to the other Godminds (not at all unusual by the familial standards, as he could clearly see mingled representatives of all sorts of specie seated upon similar contraptions at both High and Lowmind tables), repasting upon a meager selection of Oran berries and mint leaves… perhaps his stomach was unsettled? That was understandable, mused Edward, considering just what exactly he would have to set out to do today. It was enough to make anyone of any mental training nervous.

Once again, species has an 's' on the end no matter what amount. I also see a little too much of 'familial' as an adj. You might want to break up this paragraph as well. But, I digress...

Well, Chapter Two ends up very nice. I like the meeting and everything. Though it might be a little bit easier to understand if you added some punctuation - ',", <>, *, or something like that.

But the first two chapters are very nice...

But I don't see why you posted them on the same date. You shoudl wait for people to come in and drop a good review and then take their advice and use it in the next chapter.