A Ballad of Winter - A Pokemon Fanfiction

Dear Reader,

I lie awake at night thinking, dreaming of you. I see you, in some far away time; we are so close to each other, yet so far. I reach out, but instead of finding you, I find myself here; writing this letter. One that, by means I am not yet aware of, has found it's way to you. In what form, I cannot be sure of, for I am a pawn in a game of my own creation. But, I am sure of one thing:

Every choice, every sacrifice, everything you have ever been through has been to lead you here; I am your destiny, reader, and you are mine.

I have brought you to the water, reader, but will you drink? To reject destiny is to spit in the face of time itself, the very thing that has brought us together. However, to stare into the infinite, gaping jaws of fate and shoutNO; well, that is something I know all about. Yell it from the top of the hills, reader; declare it for all of the world to hear. And maybe, if we both shout loud enough, the thousand arms of time will descend and place us face to face. We will meet, again, and again, and again, and again. I like that plan, don't you? Well, if you go on any farther, it will never come to fruition. You will change this world, or you will not. You will continue reading, or you will not. You will escape this labyrinth, or we will be doing this for a very, very long time. The die, reader, has been cast.

I congratulate you for ending up here, at the beginning of the beginning, where it all began with one boy.

A long time ago, there was a boy. And then he was a man, a man that I love very much. But, a man that I'm not sure loves me any longer. Bell Benson's story begins in a little forest in southern Galar known as the slumbering weald. He awoke with not a clue as to who he was. Just a boy, A Dwebble, and an insurmountable amount of questions burning in his mind. Burning as those questions may be, they provided no warmth. But, he was not the only person in Galar with a story to tell. A grieving sister, a girl who yearns for freedom, a trainer in the dark, a misguided reporter, and a naive florist. They all have names, of course, and if you continue reading, you will learn about all of them in due time.

An even longer time ago, there was a song. A song, so beautiful it was said to make gods shed a tear. A song so infamous it made it's creator one of those most powerful beings in existence. Until, it was forgotten. For a long time, I wondered, how does something so significant, so era-defining, become a relic of the past? My dear reader, nothing lives forever. One day, both you and I will vanish much like the Ballad of Winter. We will be nothing more than fading ripples in the everlasting pond of time when we were once tears streaming down the face of god. But I won't forget you, I will never forget you so long as I live. So, instead, I must ask you, reader, do you really believe the histories taught to you?

I did, and I fear that was my greatest mistake. I will never forget you, but will you forget about me? You, reader, are my greatest fear.

My fears aside, I only have one thing to ask of you. When the curtain closes, and I am forced to take my final bow, learn my story, and enjoy the show. Maybe, the truth you are so desperately seeking will bring you the solace it could never bring me. Or maybe, you'll find it worse than either you and I could have ever imagined.

I have left this message at the beginning of the beginning. Another awaits you at the end of the beginning, and another at the beginning of the end. And if somehow you make it to the end of the end, then the end is surely near.

From the inside of Pokéstar Studios, A