After setting Cosmoem right in the middle of the altar, Damian backed off a good distance.
Caitlin shifted her grip on the Moon Flute, still looking like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or question reality.
"Damian… you're telling me this is going to work?"
She'd only come because Damian asked. The moment he explained why—that this was for Cosmoem's evolution—her confusion doubled.
A flute… makes a Pokémon evolve?
Damian shrugged like she'd asked whether water was wet.
"Yeah. You still doubting me?"
Caitlin's lips pressed into a thin line.
Damian tipped his chin toward the altar.
"It's old, it's weird, and it's been around longer than any of us. Either way—let's play."
"Alright," Caitlin said.
Lillie nodded quietly, steadying herself. She'd been holding the Sun Flute so carefully it looked like it might break if she breathed wrong.
The two women exchanged a glance.
Caitlin offered a polite, composed smile and moved with practiced grace to the front-right position.
Lillie watched her for a second—refined, confident, way too comfortable being here with Damian.
…Yeah. That relationship is complicated.
Lillie swallowed her thoughts and walked to the front-left.
Small puddles scattered across the stone. She hesitated, toes hovering at the edge.
Then she remembered Nebby.
Lillie set her jaw and stepped through, water splashing softly as she reached her spot and stopped.
The world went quiet.
Cool moonlight poured down, turning the water into a dim mirror. Lillie's reflection trembled across the surface like it didn't want to hold still.
Above them, the stars glittered hard and bright. Other than faint insects somewhere in the canyon, the altar sat wrapped in deep, heavy silence.
If we play the melody… Nebby evolves.
Lillie slowed her breathing and looked across to Caitlin. From the corner of her eye, she saw Caitlin lift an arm—a clear signal.
Ready.
Lillie nodded back and raised the Sun Flute to her lips.
The first notes slipped into the night—soft, clean, and strangely warm.
A heartbeat later, Caitlin's Moon Flute joined in.
The two melodies wove together—sun and moon—fitting like they were meant to be one song. The sound filled the altar, soothing in a way that made the air feel less sharp.
They hadn't rehearsed together.
They didn't need to.
Somehow, it clicked anyway.
Damian stood off to the side with his arms crossed, tapping a finger lightly against his bicep as he watched.
"That's a hell of a duet," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
But his eyes weren't just on them.
They were on the altar.
Because the altar was responding.
Directly ahead, the mountain wall where the Moon crest was carved began to glow—faint at first, then stronger, pulsing like something inside it had woken up.
Energy flooded into that carved symbol, filling it piece by piece until the entire cliff face looked lit from within.
Lillie and Caitlin both noticed. Their eyes widened—just a little.
Neither of them stopped playing.
The song climbed toward its ending.
The Moon crest filled to the brim.
Then—
A sharp click cracked through the air.
The "Moon" split open from the center.
And the altar answered.
A massive beam erupted from the wall and slammed straight down into Cosmoem.
The ritual had started.
A hard wind blasted outward. Lillie's ponytail whipped behind her; her dress snapped and tugged like it wanted to tear free. She threw up an arm to shield her face, peering through the gaps as the beam roared.
That's… for Nebby?
It didn't feel like "power."
It felt like a storm made solid.
Lillie didn't really understand what a Champion-level battle looked like—she wasn't a Trainer—but she could tell one thing immediately:
If that hit a person, there wouldn't be anything left to save.
And Cosmoem?
Cosmoem drank it down like it had been starving.
Just pure, relentless absorption—like a sponge thrown into an океan.
Nebby…
Lillie's thoughts raced. Before coming here, she'd dug up what she could about this altar. Most ancient texts were missing or ruined, but the pieces she found all circled the same idea:
The Altar of the Moone was tied to the bloodline of legendary Pokémon.
Legendary.
Is Nebby… a Legendary Pokémon?
Minute by minute, the beam weakened. The altar's stored energy drained out, thinning until it looked like the cliff itself was running out of breath.
And then Cosmoem began to shine.
A brilliant light burst from its body, swelling into a radiant sphere that wrapped it completely.
Damian's smile widened.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Here we go."
The glowing sphere lifted off the altar, rising into the sky like it was being pulled by an invisible tide.
The light intensified—sharper, brighter—until it flooded the night so completely it felt like the stars vanished.
Lillie, Caitlin, and Damian all turned their heads away, eyes stinging from the glare.
Then a piercing call sliced across the horizon—high, raw, and almost metallic, like the sky itself cried out.
The light began to fade.
Lillie snapped her gaze upward.
And froze.
The crescent moon hung above the altar, cold and bright.
Beneath it, a magnificent Pokémon hovered with its head held high, wings spread wide.
Its body was deep purple. Gold arcs lined its wings like lunar fire. Its forehead held a dark-blue patch where a shifting constellation moved and changed like it was alive.
When it opened its wings fully, it looked like a full moon wearing a body.
Bat-like, yes—yet nothing about it felt frightening.
It felt regal.
Elegant.
Ancient.
Majestic in a way that made your chest tighten without warning.
"Lunala," Damian said softly, like he was naming something holy.
Beside them, Tapu Fini and Tapu Lele wore almost human smiles—genuinely pleased, as if something long overdue had finally happened.
Caitlin exhaled, awed.
"…It's beautiful."
Lillie couldn't speak. She just stared—blank, stunned—at the Moon goddess floating under the moonlight.
Then Lunala dipped its head and gave a single, gentle sweep of its wings.
A soft breeze brushed Lillie's face.
Her vision blurred for a heartbeat—
And when it cleared, Lunala was right in front of her.
Those eyes—deep red, like polished gems—looked at her with tenderness.
Lillie lifted a hand, then stopped just short of touching it.
Her voice came out small.
"Nebby…?"
Lunala answered with a softer sound this time—low, comforting.
Then it leaned down, folding its wings inward, and drew Lillie into a slow, careful embrace.
No sudden movements.
No force.
Just gentleness—like it remembered exactly how she used to hold it when it was small.
Lillie's throat tightened.
…It really is Nebby.
She pressed her forehead lightly to its chest. The surface felt cool, almost like moonlit stone—but warmth surged through her anyway, straight into her heart.
Nebby… you grew up.
Damian watched the scene, smile quiet but sincere.
"Yeah," he murmured. "That's the good stuff."
Then his gaze snapped upward.
The edge of the sky shifted—two fast-moving shapes cutting toward them at full speed.
Damian's smile thinned.
"…And here comes the trouble."