“Somebody talked about type effectiveness? Are dragons weak to dragon, ice and fairy here too?” Whitney asked. The question Sazh posed stole her attention for a couple of seconds. Type effectiveness were something every gym leader had learned to their heart and utilised in their battling as well as they could. Even though she found studying boring, she didn’t overlook an information which could make her Pokémon shine even brighter. Especially since she had to become stronger for her own pride’s sake. Felt had said that he would protect her and Whitney believed in him, but she didn’t want to be some sort of a wall rose. As she was in the middle of those thoughts Felt answered and her focus changed once again.

Whitney tried to picture the reckless skeleton with his fiery motorbike not existing anymore. But no matter how she tried, Ghost Rider and a permanent death simply refused to fit into one sentence. It wasn’t certainly hard to believe that he would have had stupidly continued to fight. It wasn’t hard to see either that the dragon had enough force to kill almost anything, especially if it was a mother protecting its children. Yet Whitney was still on a denial state.

“I see”, she said. “It’s not your fault, it’s pretty obvious that he ran to his own death.”

Her voice was calm but without a single trace of any sort of a feeling. It was almost like she was repeating words of someone else. The world around her was like from a painting. Vivid, beautiful, surreal, sad. Whitney didn’t usually notice philosophical matters like that. It was a new experience, like she had opened a door which she had always before walked past. What lied behind the door was a world for entirely new senses, like she had been blind but now saw. For a short while she just stared at Felt, but not particularly at him but at him as a part of the world. For that moment, she didn’t actually want to go home but wanted to learn, what it meant to live instead.

Then she lost her concentration and everything returned normal. The world was yet again a merely scary place and there were creatures which could kill her, Felt or about anyone else. Like Ghost Rider had died. Whitney started to cry. She had not even truly known about him, but couldn’t feel nothing when a person had lost his life almost at front of him. Death was permanent, especially for a ghost. It was also something that only belonged to old people, not for people who seemed to be able to fight for next ten decades.

“Why did that have to happen?” she asked as she cried. “And you don’t go dying too! And no one else, for that matter!” Whitney shouted at Felt and everyone. She wasn’t too afraid of her own life because she trusted in Felt’s promise, but she was terrified from losing anyone else.