"Some wars don't end with victory. They end with silence—and that silence screams the loudest."
---
Auron sat beside the ruins of what was once Spear Pillar. The air was still, unnervingly so. No wind. No birds. Just the gentle rise and fall of Pikachu's breathing beside him.
Ash's partner. His father's heart. His own last link.
The storm was gone, but so were too many things.
He could still see the shape Ares had left behind—burned into the fabric of the sky like a scar that wouldn't heal.
Professor Oak approached slowly. His hands trembled as he rested them on Auron's shoulders.
"You ended it," he said.
Auron didn't reply. The silence between them said more.
---
Far across the sea, in the ancient capital of Kalos, a funeral bell rang.
The great halls of Lysandre's Tower—now repurposed as the Allied Resistance's last stronghold—had become a shrine. Cynthia's name had been carved into stone beside Ash's. Two legends buried under war and time.
Inside the tower, Serena stood before the memorial flame.
Her hand trembled as she reached out toward the etching of Ash's name.
He wasn't there to see their child grow. Wasn't there to say goodbye. Wasn't there when Cynthia was lowered into the stone grave where the wind wouldn't touch her anymore.
But their son was.
Auron.
A reminder of both of them—and the burden of their blood.
"I hated you," Serena whispered. "For choosing her. For leaving. But… I still loved you, Ash."
She clenched her fists, hot tears sliding down her cheeks.
And then she turned away, leaving behind both a prayer and a promise: She would make sure their son didn't follow Ash's path to martyrdom.
---
Back in Sinnoh…
Auron stood before a gathering of survivors and warriors—trainers who had fought, bled, and nearly died for a world that had forgotten peace.
His voice was calm, quiet, and roughened by everything he'd seen.
"The gods fell. The empires burned. And we survived."
He looked down at Pikachu—still slightly bruised, but alive.
"My name is Auron Ketchum. And I don't want to be your hero. I want to be your silence. The silence after war. The silence that gives you time to heal."
The people listened. The winds listened. Even the ghosts of the mountain seemed to lean closer.
"I've killed a god. I've watched legends die. But I'm still here. Not for glory. Not for vengeance. But because someone needs to hold the line if the world tries to bleed again."
He stepped down, and the people didn't cheer. They didn't clap.
They bowed.
---
That night, under the starlit skies of Mt. Coronet, Auron dreamt.
Ash stood before him in a memory—a younger version, eyes bright with that eternal fire.
"You did good, kid," he said, resting a hand on Auron's shoulder.
"I almost lost everything," Auron whispered.
Ash's smile was soft. "You had to. That's how you find out what's worth keeping."
Behind him, Cynthia appeared. She knelt before her son, brushing his hair with fingers made of starlight and silence.
"Don't carry all of us," she said. "Just carry yourself."
And then they were gone.
---
Auron woke up in the early morning.
Beside him, Pikachu was already awake—watching the sunrise.
He didn't need words.
The world was broken.
But for the first time in a long time, there was quiet.
And sometimes… silence is sacred.
---