Beware for slight angst hazards ahead! Nothing too bad, of course; not even close to being as bad as Ultimatum, and the story, overall, is meant to be happier than it is sad. However, like all of my stories seem to, it hardly starts out in the best of places.
Anyway, disclaimer! The Lake of Rage does not own Pokémon, obviously! If I did, then Zorua would be the most OP Pokémon ever so that I could use it in competitive play more often.
Prologue
Reset
It hadn't taken her long to realize that she'd been cursed with eternal life.
For her, the realization had come when she took a glance at herself in a reflective window while standing aside Trevor, Shauna, Calem, and Tierno just outside of a shop in Aquacorde. Until then, no one had really acknowledged the change; it was all looming in the back of their minds, but they refused to admit it. Somehow, they all clung to the childish notion that, if they ignored their growing dread, it would turn out to be for naught.
Now the five best friends, once only years apart at their widest gap, stood motionlessly, shocked into silence. "Serena... Calem..." came the gasp as Shauna broke their stunned pause. "What... how...?" But no one had an answer for her, and so they once again lapsed into a silence, this one rooted in horror rather than mere surprise.
Tierno was clearly in his early twenties, and his active lifestyle of dancing had left him fit and just as tall as ever. Trevor, on the other hand, had just reached his voting age, hence the reason for their celebration in the first place. Shauna was somewhere between them, with her somewhat voluptuous figure yet strikingly childish and adorable demeanor confusing any onlookers about her true age.
Calem and Serena looked absolutely no different than they had five years ago when they all congregated here the first time and met their Pokémon partners.
The sight of an elderly Hydreigon sailing over Twinleaf had become commonplace over the years.
Of course, since this was Sinnoh, no one could identify it at first. When Professor Rowan himself finally confirmed that it was, indeed, a foreign Unova creature, the kids were overjoyed to have something to talk about. People always pointed and ooohed and aaahed at the exotic Pokémon, but no one ever caught sight of its Trainer beyond a fleeting glimpse of tattered sneakers and windblown honey-colored hair.
Kids would sometimes clamber up on the weathered bronze statue of the town's famous heroes―Dawn Platinum, Barry Pearl, and Lucas Diamond―trying to get a closer look, but they never quite succeeded. Every once in a while, however, Hydreigon would do a few aerodynamic twists and loop-de-loops while they applauded, nimble even in its obvious old age. Still, it remained mysterious: an enigma that kids would trade rumors about in the schoolyard.
Until the day he appeared.
A cacophony of screams melded with the mocking cackle of flames as they razed the land gleefully. Forgetting everything they'd ever been told about stopping, dropping, and/or rolling, children sprinted as fast as they could as houses collapsed behind them.
"Move, move, move!"
Move, move, moving as fast as his short legs could carry him, and perhaps even faster, Alphonse could hear the adrenalin pulsing painfully in his veins; so strong that he was sure his wrists would burst open from his heartbeat alone. His breaths were more and more labored with every inhale and exhale. He was running out of steam.
He tripped.
Going boneless almost immediately, his body crumpled to the ground face-first, jolting upon impact and dispelling the last remaining wisps of air from his lungs. Fear ran rampant in his body: rampant enough for his legs to shake violently, sending him stumbling to the ground as soon as he got back up.
No, no, no!
He was hyperventilating; struggling to right himself but failing. Heat pressed in on all sides, and he hadn't thought he could get any sweatier, but he was literally drenched head-to-toe now, and too hot too hot too hot.
Oh Arceus, oh Arceus, oh God!
Gasping, he felt his body give up on him even though his mind was still scrambling to go go go! His mouth filled with dirt as he slammed face-first in the ground once again. Repulsive as it was, the rancid taste was the least of his concerns as he grappled with his unresponsive limbs.
The fire was crawling steadily closer, and oh God, oh God, oh God!
I'm going to die!
With a whoosh, cold arms locked firmly around his chest, hauling him off of the ground.
They penetrated the smoke overhead, and, by the time he managed to wrench his eyes open and see that he was sitting astride a Hydreigon's middle neck, he could breath again. Wisps of smoke were still dissipating from around him even now as air blew them away, and it took him a moment to become aware of the iron grip pressing him firmly to a chilly torso.
For almost a full minute, he was gasping for breath, coughing and hacking to expel the smoke from his lungs, and the grip on his waist was loosened to allow a hand to tenderly rub circles on his back. Fighting the urge to cling to his savior and never let go, Alphonse slammed his fists into his chest as if to dislodge the ache there. Soft shushing interrupted him as cool hands caught his own, gently lowering them to his sides. Knuckles pressed lightly into the curve of his back and it arched convulsively, but he was surprised to find that the position actually aided his breathing process rather than hampering it. Still, the voice whispered quietly but calmly behind him.
"Lysandre."
When the seemingly disembodied voice stopped with its sweet nothings, it instead harshened into a bark. Now that it was substantially louder, Alphonse could tell that it was melodic, yet sharp; more of a snarl than anything. He jumped, not expecting such an angry voice to come from what he saw as his guardian angel. Finally ready for answers, he twisted around to gaze in awe at a slender teenage girl with delicate features, old-fashioned yet stylish clothing, and teeth bared so savagely that they might as well have been fangs.
She glanced down at him at his sharp intake of breath, and her expression softened slightly, lips pressing back together. With a tiny smile that didn't reach her eyes, she tugged a thick black ribbon from around her collar and pressed it against his forehead. Convulsively, he reached up and held it there, just now feeling the sting of a cut and the trickle of blood.
Alphonse had never understood the way his mother described some people as too old for their age. Like the twenty-something lady who worked at the PokéMart and the Pokémon Center and did odd jobs yet slept on the floor inside the Center with her three kids. Or Tommy from next door, who flinched for no reason sometimes and thought he was successfully hiding the bruises on his arms. They looked their age to him; he didn't understand why they were "too old".
This girl taught him the meaning of the phrase. Her eyes and face were as old as Grandma Jo; her back was hunched like that Nurse Joy/Teacher/Saleswoman; yet she was clearly only a teenager, just older than his big sister.
Alphonse wondered why.
Then Hydregion was rearing up, protecting its two riders from the brunt of a vicious Flamethrower, and he would've been bucked right off had the girl not quickly renewed her hold, keeping him pinned firmly to her chest. "Hold on," she whispered, her voice raspy and dry, and then the dragon was diving, tearing a startled cry from his mouth as he clutched the arm around his waist and the satin on his forehead.
He couldn't catch much of the fight because he was too busy trying not to have a premature heart attack and die despite her best efforts. He just could hear her say "Lysandre" a few more times as Hydreigon quarreled with some other Pokémon whom he couldn't distinguish. Other than that, there was just a triumphant roar that he was smart enough to realize meant victory for the good guys, and then the trio suddenly stabilized, Hydreigon flipping back over and depositing is riders firmly onto its back once more.
Evading the heavier patches of smoke, Hydreigon followed some unsPokén order he gleaned from his savior's silent hand gestures and brought them to where the village was currently assembled, the few water Pokémon who lived there trying desperately to quell the flames engulfing their town. Alphonse could see his sister's Prinplup shooting what seemed to be a Hydro Pump across the ravaged land and couldn't help but wonder when Prin had learned that. Last time he checked, the 'Mon had been unable to learn anything stronger than Bubble no matter how he tried.
Crying and screaming, there was his mother, straining against his father's hands, which were clutched around her shoulders to keep her from charging into the pyre. Distantly, he realized that she was calling his name. The forefront of his mind, however, could only comprehend the fact that he was alive. It was sinking in now.
He was alive.
Hydreigon came down hard and fast, and all heads turned. The girl quickly swept him into her arms, and he would've been embarrassed if it were anyone else, but, dear Arceus, this was the girl who'd just single-handedly fought off the Pokémon who'd almost obliterated his entire town. Help from her seemed more a sign of strength than of weakness at this point.
She leaped to the ground, knees bending to absorb the impact, and then he was in his mother's arms and his father's arms and his sister's arms all at once, and there was more sobbing than he thought he'd ever heard before. "You're alive," and "Alphonse," and "Are you okay?" and lots of "Oh, God!" For once, he couldn't tell if they were crying because they were sad or because they were happy. Maybe both. That seemed most likely.
Their odd mixture of mourning their town and exuberance for his safety was interrupted by a roar.
This didn't sound like Hydregion, though. This wasn't like the brief snatches of the attacking Pokémon's snarl people had caught amid the chaos. This was all-encompassing; all-knowing―the roar heard 'round the world. Above life and death and other petty human creations.
A roar that could transcend time.
In an instant, all other noise ceased. All eyes were staring, horrified, at a pulsing orb of palpable blue light growing between them all. It writhed and convulsed like a beating human heart as it grew, silver veins running through the cobalt as it began to shape itself, taking a form like a blue dinosaur with a long neck, limbs rippling with sinew.
Eyes appeared, glinting with a wisdom that no one could deny; directed at the honey-haired Trainer who, for once, looked just as lost as everyone else.
Then, in a flash of cobalt, she was gone, leaving her Hydreigon behind.
All that was left was her black ribbon, still pressed firmly to the cut on Alphonse's forehead, flapping gently in the wind as if to wave goodbye to its previous owner.
Serena had long since abandoned the notion of slowly drifting awake like a tide rolling in. Approximately "a shit ton" of years of living mostly in the streets or in no-tell motels had made her far too cautious for that. One moment, she was asleep; the next moment―
Wherever she'd managed to land herself, it certainly wasn't where she'd started out. Now, she was inside, resting in a familiar-feeling bed. Far too warm and intact to be the crappy mattress she'd found herself in Sinnoh. Not stark or hard enough to be a hospital bed.
Chirping caught her attention, but she kept her eyes closed, her body lax, and her breathing steady. No need to go letting people know that she was awake. Not when this place could very well be a prison rather than a sanctuary. Quickly, she identified the calls, which were getting steadily louder, to be―Fletchling noises? Confusion welled up, followed by indecision, which she hastily squelched. 'Back in Kalos, then.' She refused to shiver at this point (it's been how long, and you're still afraid to go back there?).
And, still, those Fletchling calls were getting louder and louder; drawing closer and closer. Following them was the familiar rustle of feathers and soft whoosh of wind displaced under small but powerful wings...
And then something collided harshly with her side.
Nostalgic as this scene was somehow making her feel, Serena was still on high alert. Upon provocation, she quickly whirled onto her feet, eyes flying open even as she let loose the first punch of her waiting barrage, muscles tensing and compressing under her skin.
Snapping straight but never meeting any resistance, her fist hung in midair, and the kick she quickly followed it up with only hit what felt like wood, sending some furniture piece or other tumbling.
Her mouth opening and closing rather quickly like a Magikarp out of water, Serena took in her surroundings. This certainly wasn't like any holding cell she'd ever seen (and, as an immortal whose secret had gotten out every now and again, she'd seen a lot). Neither was it anything like the tattered, cardboard-thin walls of the motels she was wont to rent when it snowed or rained too hard.
In fact, this appeared to be a perfect replica of her room back in Kalos; the room she'd moved into however-many centuries ago; the room she'd left behind a decade or two later.
And, twittering in confusion on her unmade bed, there was her Mom's beloved Fletchling, long since dead.
"Serena! Is everything okay up there?"
So there you have it! ...I'm not a very good human being at times, I'll be the first to admit. But I promise I won't be mean to Serena for long! After all, she's basically getting a second chance. That seems like a pretty good deal to me!