When I was a child, the world was full of color.

The sky was this pearly sort of blue, with soft white clouds that stretched whisper-thin across the horizon, just over the trees.

Each trunk was thicker around than most houses in town, a rich dark brown that threw reddish hues in the right light, their branches low enough for even me, a rather small child, to reach and hoist myself up.

I remember how green and soft the grass was under my bare feet, the dark soil between my toes, how bright the flowers were against my skin…

I spent a lot of time alone in that forest, wandering and climbing and exploring.

Pokemon could be found in every nook and cranny, from the Pidgey that swooped by overhead to the Buneary that hopped through the underbrush, and I loved finding each one.

I should have known that some wouldn't want to be found.

That day was unusually clear and bright, the air heavy with pollen and the warm smell of flowers, practically humming with summertime activity.

A Pachirisu darted between my feet, climbing to reach a secure hidey-hole, and Hoppip floated on the breeze in bunches, giggling when I reached up to brush their bellies with my fingertips.

I had never gone so deep into the forest before, where the branches wove together and boulders rose from deep inside the ground, moss softening the rough edges to velvet.

There were Geodude napping in patches of sunlight, looking like nothing more than clumps of rocks, and I said hello to each one as I passed, careful not to step on them.

The farther along I went, the fewer Pokemon I saw; no Burmy hanging from tree branches, no Rattata scurrying through the grass, not even a Ledyba or Starly peering out from the bushes.

Silence like that, like the hush over a graveyard, never brings joy.

I didn't realize why until the ground began shaking.

It felt like the whole world moved under me, as if trying to buck me off, and I stumbled, catching myself on the rough bark of a tree as a roar ripped through the air.

The sound vibrated through my whole body, like metal struck on an anvil, and tears welled up as the sting of my scraped palms set in.

What was going on?

An answer came much sooner than I expected.

Tearing through the trees, splinters flying, a great scaled beast lifted it's narrow head and roared a second time, heavy tail breaking through rock as easily as I kicked apart a pile of leaves in autumn.

Tyranitar.

Something in my subconscious must have sensed the great danger I was in, because when those dark eyes landed on me, adrenaline and paralyzing terror took hold.

Baring sharp white fangs, the massive Armor Pokemon called up heavy slabs of rock from the torn ground, the edges sharp as swords.

Grass and dirt was thrown up from all the chaos, hot lines of pain blooming across my skin at being thrown down, and all I heard was Tyranitar roaring.

Young as I was, barely five summers, it was pure luck that I moved fast enough to not be impaled.

I had never come across an enraged Pokemon before, and this sudden turn of events made my head spin, pain and fear making it impossible to think.

Here was one of the most dangerous Pokemon in all of Araluen, and I was going to die.

Another swing of that heavy tail, shards of rock flying right at me, screaming-

Pain, so much pain, everything painted shades of red, a dark blur rushing past and a cry of not-anger from Tyranitar-

Big red eyes in a dark mask, this bright scarlet color that never faded even as my vision turned white…

Scarlet was the last thing I ever saw.

My name is Azlyn, and ever since that day, my world has been white.

Every living thing in this world, from people and Pokemon to plants and animals, gives off Aura.

It is the very essence of life, the prickle of awareness in the back of your mind and the twist in your gut, woven through the ground we walk on and the air we breathe.

Aura ripples from you like notes from a song, singing of joy and triumph, rage and hate, sadness and guilt…

I did not hear the song until I no longer had sight to distract me.

Scarlet was the one to teach me how to listen, how to feel the ripples wash over my mind and 'see' them, how to determine each note.

The tiny Riolu had been by my side since I woke up after the attack, bandaged and bedridden and back at the orphanage, and there was never a doubt in my mind that she saved my life that day.

I've spent the last ten years of my life proving she didn't make a mistake.