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Out of every dungeon that had showed up in the region in the past years, Starlight Caverns was the most mysterious. It had shown up out of the blue, a sinkhole at the base of a distant mountain, walls lined with glittering stone.
It seemed that many Pokemon who stepped foot inside that weren't under the protection of a Guild Badge would lose their minds, wandering the ever shifting halls until they were either rescued or ended up on a missing poster. And now, a lone Dragonite stood before it, staring up at the mountain guarding the entrance as she worked up her nerve.
It was not for the faint of heart, and so Momma had forbid any teams below Diamond Rank to explore the dungeon. She couldn't stand seeing the missing list grow any larger.
So she had launched a solo expedition herself, leaving her senior teams in charge of the Guild until she either got back, or they needed to send a rescue team for her. No matter how much she was urged not to, her mind was made up.
Out of every dungeon, this was the one she needed to solve the mystery of the most.
So she set out with her trusty satchel, with enough healing items, reviver seeds, and an escape orb inside to get her through, and stood outside the entrance, working up the courage to step inside.
The air here felt sharper than it should, cold nipping under her scales as her breath billowed out in thick clouds around her. For all her years of exploring dungeons, Momma had never seen one manifest like this.
There had been a wishing star streaking the sky one night, lighting up the world as if it was day. Only it hadn't cut above them, and instead crashed down into the forest at the base of a mountain.
By the time rescue teams had arrived, they'd found an entrance that glimmered like the night sky, and a strange otherworldly humming that bellowed from the depths.
Only one team had returned, badly beaten and clutching a shattered escape orb. They'd been unable to explain what they had experienced for a week, too battered to sit for more than a few moments.
But eventually, they'd spun a tale of Pokemon wandering the dungeon almost mindlessly, groaning in pain before attacking furiously.
And now, Momma needed to face up to this alone.
Part of her longed to leave, return with a team to back her up. As Guildmaster, she would have her pick of the strongest Pokemon that Troubadour had to offer. But she also couldn't bear to risk anyone else here. Too many names were already carved into stones in the Guild's memorial garden. Too many faces she still saw when she closed her eyes at night.
The Guildmaster before her had always said that sometimes, a dungeon would call out to you, and only you. Perhaps that was just a foolish superstition. Perhaps it was true.
But in this moment, she knew something was different about this place. She could feel the leylines beneath her feet, shifting and humming. The groaning from the tunnel wreathed around her like a call of a mystery begging to be solved. And she felt if she ignored the call, the cost would be greater than she could bear.
Momma spread her wings once, stretching them wide and flapping them to shake off the tension, before folding them against her back again. She squared her shoulders as she stepped closer to the sinkhole's lip, spotting the entrance to the dungeon itself.
"Alright then," she murmured, voice low as she steadied herself. "Let's see what secrets you're hiding."
And with that, she leapt into the darkness, the ground trembling as the shifting labyrinth swallowed her whole.
The descent ended up being a blur. Paths unspooling and reforming just out of sight, the air thick with glittering motes that floated down from the ceiling like dislodged starlight.
Momma only fought when she had to. She kept her distance from reverberating footsteps. At one point, a feral Onix lunged at her, head smashing into the ground where she had been seconds before. Another, an Ursaring slashed at her without mercy, collapsing in a pile as she managed to fight it off.
But mostly, she pressed on with single-minded determination, refusing to let the dungeon unsettle her. She'd been adventuring for most of her life, but the atmosphere here was all wrong. It wasn't just hostile, it was seeded with suffering. If she focused on it too hard, she thought she might go mad.
By the time she stumbled into a cavern, unable to go any further forward, she was breathing hard. Her body was streaked with dust and shimmer, claws scraped from the rough terrain underfoot. She steadied herself after a moment, using her tail to lean on a little as she finally raised her head to take in the details on this ending chamber.
At first glance, it seemed empty. A wide hollow space, walls glittering with crystal so bright even in the expected darkness that they cast pale constellations across the ground. And yet that otherworldly groaning here was louder, a deep, sorrowful vibration that seemed to rattle her bones. It was as though the very heart of the dungeon was crying out.
Her gaze swept the floor once, twice, before she stepped back in confusion. And then the ground began to tremble, shaking loose shards of crystals that crashed into the ground at her feet. Dust rose, and she turned her head away, wings flapping to keep it from her eyes.
When it settled, she saw it.
A mound of shattered stones and glittering shards formed a crude nest. At its base lay a heap of scuffed, battered Guild badges. Remnants of teams that had disappeared into the ever changing floors.
And nestled in the mess, half buried in crystal fragments, was a single egg.
It seemed to glow faintly, impossibly heated despite the cold of the chamber. Something had protected this little egg, and was still protecting it now. Tiny sparks of firelight danced around its shell, though they seemed to dim with every second she stood there.
Momma froze, the breath caught in her throat as she stared at it.
All her life, she'd told herself she'd never falter, that no mystery could ever shake her. But standing there, watching that fragile shape tremble in a basket of ruin, she felt the weight of every missing name strongly. Every loss, every adventurer who didn’t come home. She couldn't save them.
But maybe she could save this one.
She stepped forward reverently, using her tail to sweep up the badges into a pile to recover after, bending low to shield the egg from the chilled air, just in time for the flames to fizzle out into nothing.
"You poor thing…" She whispered, gathering the egg up into her arms, cradling it to her chest. She didn't dare put it in her satchel. "Don't worry, I'll protect you, little one."
The cavern howled, before a glow opened up at the far side. Her badge shone in response, marking the exit that would take her back to the surface.
Carefully, she crouched, gathering the badges with one paw tucking them into her satchel, before stepping towards the light. Both arms wrapped around the little egg, cradling it carefully as she felt the tug of the exit.
She would guard this egg with her life, and raise the child inside as one of her own.
How it had ended up there, she didn't know. But she wasn't going to abandon it now. She could solve the mystery later.
The guild was quieter than usual in the days that followed. Momma had returned earlier than expected from the Starlight Caverns battered and weary, but carrying something so precious that no one dared to question her choice. She had set the egg in her own chambers, a hollow at the centre of the Guild lit by lanterns, and scarcely left its side.
She tended to it with a care that surprised even herself. Each morning, she lit the fireplace to warm the chamber, the fire casting a delicate glow over the shell. Each evening, she polished the dust from its surface with the gentlest sweep of her paws, murmuring quiet reassurances under her breath. When the cold crept in at night, she brought it to her straw nest, wrapping her wings close around it, her heartbeat steady against the fragile shell.
Others came and went, but Momma guarded the egg closely, watching it patiently for it to finally stir.
Time blurred. She lost track of how many nights she dozed upright, tail curled around her like a cushion, only to wake at the slightest shift of the egg. She forgot the aches in her joints, the duties she had passed to others, the whispering voices of worry at her lack of appearances. All that mattered was the life she cradled, steady as a star in her care.
And then, one morning, the shell stirred beneath her claws.
She watched in astonishment as a faint crack appeared across the curve, followed by a tremor as the egg rocked from side to side. She carefully set it down, eyes wide as she heard the faintest squeak, muffled but alive.
Her chest ached. "That's it," she whispered, voice trembling as she steadied the egg. "Come on, little one. You've made it this far."
Another crack split the shell, light spilling through like sparks. Then another, as fragments began to break away and fall.
Momma curled her wings against her back, a pleased noise rumbling in her chest, ready to welcome whatever emerged.
The egg shuddered in its perch, and with one final heave, a crack formed along the side before splitting apart. A small, damp form tumbled free, curling instinctively against the straw. For a heartbeat, the chamber was silent, broken only by the crackle of flames.
Then the little one sneezed, a tiny puff of smoke escaping his nose. A faint sputter of flame flared weakly along his back before settling into a dim, steady glow that would only grow stronger as he did. He squeaked again, voice high and uncertain, and shuffled clumsily in a circle as though the very idea of having legs was new.
Momma's breath caught. A Cyndaquil, and such a tiny one too. The warmth of his body radiated through his downy fur. She stared down at him in awe, setting one paw down next to him to compare just how small he was.
He lifted his head at the shift, nose twitching as he snuffled at her paw. Though he didn't truly open his eyes, he followed her paw up her arm, as if some instinct drew him to her. His squeaks softened into a curious chirr.
"Hello, little one," Momma murmured, voice thick with emotion. Her chest vibrated with a deep hum, the same lullaby she had soothed the egg with night after night.
The Cyndaquil squeaked louder, in response, tiny claws scrabbling as he pushed himself upright. His flame burned brighter with the effort, chasing shadows across the room, and he tilted his head up. For the first time, he truly seemed to take in the towering figure before him.
And then, overwhelmed by just how tall she was, he tipped straight backwards onto the straw with a surprised squeak.
Momma laughed, a rich rumble that shook the walls and startled a few embers from his fire. She curled her tail around him protectively, smothering the flames that had tried to catch on the straw, nudging him upright again with as much gentleness as she could muster.
"There now," she soothed, lowering her snout until his fur brushed her chin. "No need to be frightened. I've got you."
The little one pressed close at once, curling up against her with a quiet chirr, nuzzling her scales as though there was no safer place in the world. His fire warmed to a steady glow, and with a consented sigh, he fell asleep. Clearly, the ordeal of hatching had exhausted him.
Momma felt her chest ache, pride and tenderness flooding her in equal measure. She would certainly need to fireproof the guild until he learned to control his flames, but right now, any mystery needing solved faded into the background, replaced with nothing but joy.
"I will protect you," she whispered, sealing the promise she had made in Starlight Caverns. "I'll keep you safe, my dear Rusty."