Chapter 3 — Sabrina’s Lifeline

Sabrina

The soft hum of machinery filled the quiet stillness of Professor Oak’s lab, a space that felt both comforting and overwhelming in its vast collection of knowledge. Shelves crammed with dusty tomes and glowing monitors lined the walls, each a testament to years of dedication. Sabrina moved through the room with quiet purpose, her long black hair trailing behind her like a shadow. Her violet eyes flicked over the screens, calm yet searching, while her psychic senses hummed faintly, brushing against the layers of tension that surrounded the professor.

Her own thoughts churned beneath her composed exterior, stirred by the storm outside that rattled the windows. Each gust of wind seemed to echo the unrest within her. She had come for research—or so she told herself. In truth, the threads of unease she picked up the moment she stepped onto the property told her otherwise. She wasn’t here for herself, and deep down, she knew it. So did Oak.

Pausing at a monitor displaying scans of aura energy, Sabrina tilted her head. The data rippled with faint, chaotic patterns, almost mirroring the storm beyond the glass. And then she felt it—a sharp, raw undercurrent of energy that reverberated against her psychic senses, unsteady and jagged.

He was here.

“What’s troubling you, Sabrina?” Oak’s voice broke the silence. It was gentle, but it carried the weight of someone who knew the answer before asking.

Sabrina turned to him, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face before her calm mask slipped back into place. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” she replied evenly. Her tone was precise, though a thread of concern wove through her words.

Oak didn’t look up from the screen he was examining, but Sabrina felt the subtle shift in his emotional energy—a tangle of apprehension, regret, and something heavier.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” she asked softly, though she already knew the answer.

Oak sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yes,” he admitted. “He’s been... struggling.”

Struggling. That word didn’t come close to encompassing the storm of anguish and anger Sabrina had felt radiating from Ash’s aura the moment she arrived. His grief was a heavy, inescapable force—a darkness so deep it seemed to draw everything into it.

“Where is he now?” she asked, though her mind was already reaching out to trace the faint, fractured trail of energy.

“In the woods,” Oak said. “Where else?”

Sabrina’s gaze shifted to the window, narrowing as though she could pierce through the relentless rain. The glass blurred the outside world, but in her mind’s eye, she could see him clearly. The boy she once knew—so full of laughter and unyielding determination—was now barely a shadow of himself. That fire, that light, was fractured and flickering dangerously.

“I’ll go to him,” she said, her voice firm with resolve.

Oak turned, his silver brows knitting together. “He may not want to talk,” he warned. “He’s... different now. Hurt.”

“I know,” she replied simply. “I’m not here to talk. I’m here to listen.”

Oak studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Be careful,” he said softly. “The storm isn’t the only thing weighing on him.”

As she left, Sabrina spared a glance at the lab’s entrance, where Oak’s discreet preparations were visible—a small supply bag half-packed with essentials. A flicker of understanding passed between them. He wasn’t just concerned for Ash. He was preparing for what came next.

The cold wind hit her the moment she stepped outside, sharp and biting against her skin. She pulled her psychic energy inward, weaving it into a protective barrier to shield herself from the worst of the elements. Her Focus Band, faintly glowing with psychic energy, pulsed against her forehead, steadying her thoughts. Adjusting it with a deliberate motion, she steeled herself and stepped forward.

The forest loomed ahead, dark and tangled, its shadows alive with secrets even her abilities couldn’t fully unravel. Yet she pressed on, her steps deliberate as she followed the faint, jagged thread of Ash’s aura. It led her deeper into the rain-soaked wilderness, each step bringing her closer to the raw, unfiltered emotions tearing through him.

The journey wasn’t long, but it felt heavy—weighted by the storm above and the storm within. She could feel his grief before she saw him. It radiated outward like broken glass, sharp and uneven, each fragment threatening to cut too deeply.

When she found him, he was seated at the base of a massive oak tree, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head bowed. Rain dripped steadily from the edges of his hood, shadowing his face. He didn’t look up at her approach, but his shoulders tensed, his fists clenching tightly.

“Ash,” she called softly, her voice cutting through the rain with quiet strength.

He didn’t respond, though his form stiffened further. Finally, he muttered, “What are you doing here, Sabrina?”

She moved closer, her footsteps careful and deliberate. “I came to see you,” she said. “To make sure you’re all right.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “Do I look all right to you?”

She stopped a few paces away. The rain blurred the space between them, but she could see the tremor in his hands, the hunched slump of his shoulders. His aura crackled faintly, the chaos within him almost suffocating.

“No,” she said simply. “You’re not.”

At that, he finally looked up, crimson eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, she saw something raw—something vulnerable—beneath the storm. But it vanished quickly, replaced by a harsh, guarded mask.

“Why do you care?” he asked sharply, his voice edged with suspicion. “What do you expect to gain from this?”

Sabrina didn’t flinch. “I don’t expect anything,” she replied. “I care because I know what it feels like to be where you are.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And where’s that?”

“Lost,” she said quietly. “Angry. Alone.”

The words struck something in him. He glanced away, jaw tightening. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I do,” she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “You’re not the only one who’s ever felt betrayed, Ash. You’re not the only one who’s ever lost someone.”

His fists clenched, tremors overtaking his hands. Memories flashed unbidden—Delia’s gentle smile, Misty’s cutting words, Brock’s silence. He pressed his fists against his knees, as though trying to force the images away.

Sabrina stepped closer, her psychic senses brushing against the jagged edges of his aura. “I know it hurts. I know it feels like the people who were supposed to stand by you turned their backs when you needed them most. But shutting yourself off from the world won’t make the pain go away.”

“And what would you know about it?” he snapped, his voice rising. “You don’t know what they said. What they did.”

“I don’t need to,” she said. “I can feel it. Your pain. Your anger. It’s consuming you, Ash. If you let it, it will destroy you.”

The rain pounded harder, filling the space between them with its relentless rhythm.

Finally, he turned back to her, his crimson eyes blazing with desperation. “Then what am I supposed to do?” he demanded. “Just forgive them? Pretend none of it happened?”

“No,” Sabrina said firmly. “You don’t have to forgive them. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But you can’t let this pain define you. You have to decide what kind of person you want to become.”

He stared at her, the weight of her words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. Slowly, his gaze dropped to the Aura Pendant around his neck. Its faint blue glow pulsed softly, matching the uneven rhythm of his breaths.

“I don’t know if I can,” he whispered.

Sabrina knelt in front of him, her voice softening. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, uncertainty clouding his expression.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she continued. “If you’re willing to try, I’ll be there. But you have to take the first step.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered.

The storm began to ease as they sat together beneath the massive oak tree. The rain softened, and pale sunlight threaded through the canopy above, its warmth faint but present. Sabrina tilted her head, watching him, her resolve tightening.

She didn’t know what lay ahead. But for now, she knew one thing: she would not let him fall.

“This storm won’t last forever,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But you’ll have to weather it first.”