I would like to thank everyone for reading this far. This chapter will introduce a new perspective to the story, which I hope you guys appreciate. Also, keep in mind that I edited it while sick with COVID. Please be somewhat lenient if it's not up to my usual standard.

And yeah, that's why I've said the last few days have been rough. If not for three vaccine doses, I would be a lot sicker, but I'm still pissed that I'm missing my first few days of the semester. So please, tell me what you think about the chapter, if that is not too much. Thanks.

LUCAS' POV

"What do you guys want?" I all but bellowed at the reporters who were getting out of their vans at this very moment. It seemed that I truly had the worst timing possible.

One of the reporters, a mustached man in a red hat with an M on it, turned to me, scratching his facial hair. He had the air of someone trying to pretend that he wasn't thrilled to see me.

"Oh, there you are," he said. "I'm just glad we found you, because we'd like you to answer a few questions for us."

I rolled my eyes. "You're the news media, of course you're going to ask me questions. Why should I expect anything else?"

"You shouldn't," the man replied. "Let me tell you, Lucas Teller, you're quite possibly the most wanted man in Forrest County right now."

My heart dropped like a freight elevator whose chains had been cut. I didn't want to believe that I'd been accused of an illegal act, but I had to be prepared for any possibility in this cold reality (amid the not-so-cold day.)

"Wanted? What have I been accused of?" I exclaimed, because if you accuse me of doing something I didn't do, I am likely to lash out. Quite frankly, I was going easy on this man.

"Nothing," the reporter told me. "At least, nothing criminal. When I say you're the most wanted, I mean that the media has had a field day with your story. We want to talk to you and hear your side of it."

I frowned, narrowing my eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll come with you."

"You don't really have a choice" another reporter, this one a young-looking woman with a ponytail, jumped in. "The audience will demand that you talk. Because if you don't…well, you know what's going to happen."

I grimaced. "I…don't think I want to know."

"Fair enough," the man in the red hat said. "In that case, you'll come with us and give us answers. Our audience at Fox News very much wants to hear from you, and they'll demand to know what went on over the last week."

"But I'm just one person!" I exclaimed. "They're going to forget all about me in a few days, it'll all blow over. Don't I have a right to privacy?"

The woman shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Lucas Teller. Like I said, our viewers are hungry for information about possibly the biggest news story of the last few weeks."

"The biggest news story? Surely one of the administration's latest scandals would top it, right?"

The man in the red hat (who, for what it's worth, looked a lot like the most familiar video game character in existence) frowned at me, his mustache drooping as he did so. And then he spoke.

"It's the biggest local news story, Lucas Teller. Let's be honest: Not much happens around here."

"There's no need to call me by my first and last names. I prefer just Lucas."

"Maybe if you cared so much about that, you wouldn't have gone on the run for a week" the woman snapped. "You had rights, of course, but you waived them as soon as you decided to break the norms of Forrest County. It's against our Southern values and heritage."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to resist the urge to go into an invective against their desired Southern heritage. I had a feeling it wasn't the peach cobbler they wanted to celebrate.

"Whatever" I muttered. "I'll come with you guys. Take me to the studio."

"Get in the van, then" the man in the red hat shot back. "And we'll drive you there."

I did as I was told, and the van's door shut automatically. On the interior, the vehicle was a lot fancier than I'd expected; the floor consisted of white marble, for one. It was easily the most upscale van I'd ever seen in the vicinity of Forrest County.

The ride to the Fox News HQ felt interminable. It was somewhat ironic, too, because normally if you're dreading something in the near future, time will seem to speed up. On some level, of course, I wanted to just get it over with.

About ten minutes into the drive, the man in the red hat said something that really set me off.

"Your princess is in another van," he said.

I was taken aback by his odd word choice, but within seconds I knew exactly whom he was talking about.

"Janelle Wilson is not my princess. She's not even my girlfriend. She's just someone I met two weeks ago on Tinder. I've never dated anyone."

The woman glared at me. "If you don't feel strongly about Janelle Wilson in any capacity, then why did you run away with her? At a minimum, people will wonder why you did that if it wasn't to elope with one another."

I couldn't help but laugh dryly. "Elope? We're way too young for that, ma'am. This isn't Romeo and Juliet."

That shut them up long enough for us to reach the studio without much more conversation. I hadn't been able to resist clenching my hands into fists, even though I knew this wouldn't exactly help my case. But I had no intentions of physically harming the reporters - I wasn't a monster, as much as I might dislike these people.

The studio, much like the car dealership, was one of the better-furnished buildings in Forrest County. It was clear to see that whoever decided how much money to invest in different structures saw this one as a priority. And on some level, I agreed with that decision; it's important to keep the general public informed, after all.

The man in the red hat led me inside the building, which contained several different rooms - I assumed these were the various studios from which the local Fox anchors gave their speeches to their audience.

He turned to me once we reached Studio 13. "Lucas Teller, I would like to introduce myself to you. I'm Michael Matthews, and I'll be the one asking you questions. But first, look who's in Studio 12."

Studio 12 was right next to Studio 13, so I peeked through the door and found none other than Janelle right there!

Janelle barely acknowledged me. If not for a brief glance in my direction (which was followed by her eyes going back to the floor), I'd have thought she didn't know I was present.

That in itself raised some question marks. I wasn't that surprised that Janelle happened to be present; she was involved in the story as well, so naturally the media would want to give her attention too.

What I found more notable was that Mr. Matthews had decided to show me her presence before my interview. Perhaps this was meant to have a psychological effect on me, though what exactly this effect was, I didn't know.

"Yes. She'll be answering questions as well about what you've experienced. But you can't worry about her."

Then why did you tell me she was here?

Mr. Matthews motioned for me to enter Studio 13, at which point we both sat down in swivel chairs. The man in the red hat then snapped his fingers, and a few attendants appeared almost out of nowhere.

Given that they combed my hair to the side, they'd clearly been summoned so that I'd look more telegenic. However, if that was their purpose, it seemed more like window-dressing than anything else; no amount of makeup would change the fact that my clothes were wretched.

"Okay, you look better now," Mr. Matthews said after a few minutes. "And we'll start recording in three…two…one…action. So please, young man, tell the audience a bit about yourself."

I barely hesitated, which was remarkable; in most cases, I wouldn't know where to begin.

"I'm Lucas Teller, seventeen years old, a lifelong resident of Forrest County. I've hardly ever left the Southern United States. Until last week, that is."

Although I couldn't see them, and they might not even be watching at this moment, I couldn't help but picture the Fox viewers sitting upright on their couches, their mouths agape at what I was telling them. I had to think about how the audience would react - perhaps that's one important part of being on TV.

"Please tell us what happened between yourself and Janelle Wilson."

My heart sped up there, but I managed to get it together. "I met Janelle on Tinder two weeks ago. We went out to dinner at Altomare's Italian cuisine, but I wouldn't say we made a romantic connection." (Even as I said the last few words, my cheek felt hot at the spot where Janelle had kissed me.)

"Interesting. You met someone on Tinder, but did not do so for the purpose of romance."

"I didn't say that," I replied. "It's nothing like that. I'm not saying we did it for that reason, I'm not saying we didn't."

"But Tinder is a dating site, is it not?"

"It is, but…you know what? This isn't relevant at all. Please move on to the next question."

"Fine," Mr. Matthews replied. "So, next question: Why did you decide to vanish from Forrest County last week?"

"It wasn't by choice."

"What do you mean, it wasn't by choice? Were you kidnapped or something?"

"Well…not exactly" I said. I knew that this conversation was becoming increasingly treacherous with every word, but there was no way out anymore. I would have to see this through until the end.

"So you weren't kidnapped, but you had no option not to go? How does that make any sense?"

I sighed. I knew that I'd have to tell Mr. Matthews the truth. There was no other way to put this interview behind me.

"I went to the Pokemon world" I said. "Or rather, I was sent there for some reason."

Mr. Matthews gasped. "The Pokémon world? As in, the fictional world created by Nintendo?"

"Well, it's not so fictional after all. I'd thought it was, but it wasn't."

Ferguson: Why did you decide to tell Michael Matthews at Fox News the truth? Or rather, what you thought was the truth?

Defendant: He'd spun a web for me, as some would say. I couldn't get out of it.

Ferguson: Please, Mr. Teller, there's no need to use such complex analogies in the courtroom. Just tell us what really happened.

Defendant: You just admitted that I believed the Pokemon world to exist. Therefore, by definition, I can't be lying. Not if I think it's true.

Ferguson: Whatever. So you felt trapped, and you decided to make up this crazy story about how you visited a fictional universe? Why did that option make any sense?

Defendant: I didn't have a choice but to tell the truth. I was trapped there, just like I'm trapped here now. I wouldn't lie to you, Darren.

Ferguson: I should hope not, since you're under oath right now. What happened after the interview?

Defendant: Well, Mr. Matthews asked me a lot of questions. Perhaps even more than I'm being asked right now. And it felt like he was saying the same things over and over again, and he expected a different answer. Don't ask me how that made sense.

Ferguson: I won't. One more question, and then I promise we'll move on to the next scene: When you saw Janelle Wilson in the studio at the Fox HQ, what were your thoughts?

Defendant: Do you mean my thoughts, or Janelle's? Because I can't give you the latter.

Ferguson: Do not stall for time, Lucas. Answer the goddamn question: How did you react upon learning that Janelle Wilson was giving an interview as well?

Defendant: I was pretty surprised, and if I'm being honest, not very happy. We didn't acknowledge each other.

Ferguson: Really? I thought you cared for her.

Defendant: That's exactly why I couldn't talk to Janelle. That's not what she wanted at that moment; it's certainly not what she needed. We parted ways right after the interview, because we just couldn't go back to the way things had been.

Ferguson: And by the sound of it, things weren't exactly sunshine and rainbows between you two before. Do I have that correctly?

Defendant: You do. Even though you've clearly got an agenda, and a narrative to set, I will concede this much.

I sat in the swivel chair, my mouth as dry as a desert.

Although I hadn't expected an all-day affair, the interview went on for several hours. By the end of it, I was exhausted, dehydrated, and sweating an entire ocean thanks to the sun shining through the windows of the studio.

"Okay, we're done here," Mr. Matthews said after I answered his 327th question. (No, I didn't count them, I just landed on that number.) "Thank you for your cooperation."

"Do you promise to leave me alone?" I asked him. I wanted to project authority and confidence, but I probably just sounded weary. All the fight had been sucked out of me through hours of questioning.

"Unfortunately, I can't promise you that," Mr. Matthews replied. "They may want to speak to you again if there are new developments; at a minimum, the ratings on tonight's program are going to be stratospheric!"

I grimaced. "Well, that's a comforting thought."

"I know it's rough being a public figure," the man in the red hat responded. "But you chose this for yourself; it wasn't something anybody else forced upon you. You said that yourself."

Uh, no, I didn't choose this at all. And I'm only a public figure because you guys are determined to milk my story for all it's worth.

"Still, thank you for coming tonight. We'll send you a small slice of our profits; it's only fair after you gave us your time."

"Thanks" I told the man, though I didn't feel very thankful. No amount of money would be worth having sacrificed anonymity and become the laughingstock of Red America.

"You are very much welcome, and you are free to go."

I practically leaped out of my chair as I left the room. I sprinted out the door.

Janelle was waiting in the hallway, looking every bit as spent as I felt. It seemed that her interview had lasted roughly as long as mine, give or take a few minutes. I wondered if they'd asked her the same things they'd asked me, and if so, how she'd answered.

"Hey" I said, speaking somewhat awkwardly. I had no idea how to approach this conversation.

"Hello" Janelle replied without anything close to the gusto she normally talked with. "How was your interview?"

"It was okay," I mumbled. My tone probably implied that it hadn't been okay.

"That's nice," she said in return. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about? Or do you just want to Uber back to your house?"

It was then that I realized something important. It was a heart-wrenching epiphany, but an epiphany nonetheless, and I couldn't ignore it.

"We should probably talk about this outside" I told Janelle. "It pertains to just the two of us."

"Fair enough," she responded, still sounding as though she lacked energy. "I suppose it doesn't have to happen indoors."

We both made our way into the hot, humid evening air, and that's when I dropped the truth on her. I'd considered breaking the news slowly, but beating around the bush ultimately wouldn't benefit either of us. It would mean doing Janelle a major disservice, and as conflicted as I was about her, I wasn't going to mistreat her that way.

So I looked her right in the eye and said, "I don't think we should talk anymore."

Janelle raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"It's just not healthy" I told her. "After all we've gone through, we need time to ourselves. Plus the media is going to hound us for all of eternity if we keep hanging out."

She sighed. "So you're saying we go no-contact?"

My heart felt as though it were being squeezed between a pair of very strong hands. Just saying the words felt like throwing away a prized family heirloom, or punching the person I loved the most.

But I had to do it. I had to be honest with her. So I nodded.

Janelle sighed again. "I'm not crazy about the idea of breaking up like that -".

"We're not breaking up, Janelle. We were never together in that way."

" - but ultimately, a friendship takes two people to be committed to it. You don't have to keep talking to me if you don't want to. And I…I guess I'll leave you alone."

I didn't thank her. Looking back on it, I probably should have, since this was potentially a big favor to ask of Janelle. I think I just felt too pained about the whole situation to remember that I was talking to a fellow human being, not a robot.

Perhaps I just wanted to escape the past. I wanted to forget that the last week (or two weeks, just pondering time differences made my brain throb) had even happened. And, though my life in Forrest County wasn't amazing, I wanted to go back to it.

But maybe that was doing Janelle a disservice too. It's unfortunate that I didn't even consider that at the time.

By the time I got home, the sun had sunk considerably lower in the evening sky. The Uber pulled into the driveway, and I thanked the driver as I stepped out.

The lawn was now mercifully devoid of news vans. Still, I was under no illusion that they wouldn't be back in the morning. Like Beedrill on a hive, they would return very soon indeed, and tomorrow would be a lot like today.

With each step, dread rose in my chest just a little higher. I would have to explain to my parents where I'd been, if they hadn't already heard Fox News' version of events. And they likely wouldn't take kindly to my actions (or lack thereof.)

The door was locked, but both of my parents' cars were still in the driveway. They probably hadn't expected me to come home, but they were in for a surprise.

Once inside, I heard the sounds of an angry, ranting man coming from the living room. And, believe it or not, said man was not my father.

"Fox News conducted an interview with seventeen-year-old Lucas Teller of Forrest County this afternoon. We donated our time to him, and in return, he gave us one of the most outrageous stories we've ever heard. And believe me, that's saying something!"

"He's back, honey! He's back!" That was my mother's voice rising above the sound of the Fox anchor.

"Indeed I am" I said unceremoniously, stepping out from behind the wall.

My mother clamped a hand over her throat as she turned to face me. She was clearly doing her best not to lash out, but her eyes told me that she was fighting a very difficult battle.

My father, on the other hand, was not afraid to voice how he really felt. He stared at me through stony eyes, so angry he didn't know how to express it. And a few seconds later, he started yelling.

"Lucas! How dare you?"

I put my hands in the air. "What did I do wrong, exactly?"

"You can't just run away for a week without telling us!" my dad bellowed. "Don't be surprised when people become alarmed if you're gone for that long!"

"Well, I don't think you care too much," I said bluntly. "If you did, you wouldn't be so rude to me while I'm here."

"We're not being rude to you" my mother insisted. "We were just worried about you. Wouldn't you be concerned under the same circumstances?"

"Yes, but…" I began, but trailed off. I really didn't know how to finish that sentence, did I?

My father wagged a finger at me. Behind said finger, his face was a picture of frustration and bewilderment.

"Look, Lucas. The tales you told the people at Fox News are very tall indeed. I don't know why you expect to be believed. I mean, to claim that the Pokemon world is real…".

"Honey, I know you're very interested in Pokemon, and have quite the imagination, but you need help distinguishing between fantasy and reality sometimes. Perhaps we should get you a therapist."

"I'm fine!" I insisted. The thought of sitting down in front of a therapist and being asked to talk about my feelings was more than I could bear.

"Well then, stop saying such outlandish things" my dad suggested. "Really, if you were going to make up a story, why not choose something less patently absurd?"

"Because it's true."

My father narrowed his right eye. It was clear to see that he was trying to see how this new information fit into his view that the Pokemon world didn't exist. He probably hadn't been expecting me to double down on that assertion.

"I don't believe you!" my mother all but shrieked. "I just don't believe you, Lucas!"

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not" I said, trying to stay as calm as I could. "It happened. Why would I make up such a story if it wasn't true?"

"I could think of any number of reasons," she replied in a more measured tone. "Maybe you were frantically trying to come up with an excuse and settled on this random one without much thought. Maybe you had hallucinations. There are several other possibilities besides an alternate dimension - extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, Lucas."

I snorted. "Says the person who believes in Pizzagate."

"We're not bringing that up" my dad shot back. "Lucas, you are grounded!"

"You can't do that," I insisted. "Just for speaking the truth, you're going to ground me?"

"We can," my mother told me. "And we will. Since you were gone for a week, it's only fair that your punishment lasts a week. That's how you'll come to understand that you can't do things like this, Lucas. You just can't."

"But grounded…what about buying my school supplies?" I was just grasping for straws here, it's true, but after having been trapped inside a Fula City apartment for so long, I didn't want to be trapped inside a different hostile home for another week.

My father frowned. "School doesn't start up again for over a month. You'll get your books when you get them. There's no point arguing with us, because we're not budging."

Judging by the voice my father used there, I knew he meant it. There was no negotiating with him when he was truly determined to do something, and in this case, I could tell that he was. My parents wanted to teach me a lesson, albeit a misguided one.

A few minutes later, while showering, I came to another epiphany.

Maybe there was a silver lining to being confined to my home for the next week. Assuming my parents took away my phone, I wouldn't have any ability to meet with Janelle. I'd agreed to go no-contact with her; in fact, it had been my idea to begin with. So my parents' punishment would make that promise easier to keep.

Make no mistake about it: Every time I thought about Janelle (and, just like the Donphan in the room, this happened often), I wondered if she was facing the same fate as me. I wondered if she also found it difficult to keep the promise of no contact.

But ultimately, I knew that I needed to stay true to my word. And if I didn't, I'd end up looking like a fool. As painful as it was, we needed to remain apart.

SIONNE'S POV

"Wait, they did what?"

As Leopold relayed the version of events he'd heard to me, like a game of telephone in which the story changes a bit every time, I just stood there in shock. I could hardly believe it.

The Village Elder nodded gravely. "Unfortunately, Lucas Teller and Janelle Wilson have gone missing. They're not in Fula City anymore; did you hear about the fire?"

It felt as though my heart and lungs had been ripped straight out of my chest. Some people might expect that, since I was a Fire type, I wouldn't be afraid of fire.

In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Fire is a reminder of just how important it is to know one's own power. Yes, fire was essential to creating society in the beginning, but if it's allowed to roam freely, it will destroy everything in its path. Even the village of Chilly Waters wasn't immune.

"No," I sighed. "I didn't hear about that; where was the fire?"

"It was at the Wind Festival last night" Leopold responded, looking at the ground. "Just as the Chinese lanterns were being lit, it seems that someone threw a smoke bomb that turned into a legitimate inferno."

"What an unconscionable act" I muttered. "Those people have no respect for the power of flame. Setting off a smoke bomb in the middle of a crowded festival? Who does that?"

"Someone in Fula City, apparently" announced a stark male voice from about four o'clock (if the direction I faced was twelve.)

I turned and came face-to-face with Arkoon, the Pyroar who'd taken such pride in stringing up Lucas two weeks ago. He managed to appear both happy and angry at the same time, though the former seemed to be taking precedence.

"Arkoon, don't act like you're bothered by it!" I exclaimed. "I saw how happy you were at threatening Lucas with trial by fire!"

"Ah, Sionne, there's no need to be so accusatory," Arkoon replied in a sickly sweet voice that was more mocking than anything else.

"The more you speak in that tone, the more angry I'll become" I muttered testily. "Please don't set me off."

"Sionne, that's enough" a harsh male voice told me. This time it belonged to Leopold, not Arkoon.

"But Arkoon is being a huge hypocrite!" I complained. "He's mocking Lucas and Janelle for going to the festival, and claiming to be bothered by the conflagration in Fula City when he clearly isn't."

"I'm not" Arkoon shot back. "Besides, weren't you the most adamant 'mon telling them that they shouldn't attend? And now you're upset because they attended and, surprise, it went poorly for them."

As much as my blood boiled when Arkoon spoke, I had to admit he had a point. A few days ago, I wouldn't have expected to be the one defending Lucas and Janelle for their boneheaded choice. But it's a wonder just how much things can shift in that time.

"Both of you, that is enough" Leopold insisted flatly. "I'm not going to give either of you another warning; causing a public disturbance is a crime under penalty of caning. Trust me, neither of you want to be on the receiving end of the cane."

"Fine," I muttered. "But don't bother me again, Arkoon, or else you know what's going to happen."

"Your warning is in effect immediately" the Village Elder replied with a wink. "But Sionne, if you need to talk to me, you can. Just don't bring Arkoon into it unnecessarily."

He was the one who butted in, not me! I wanted to shout. But I didn't think that would be productive.

After Arkoon slunk back off, his head between his front legs, I walked with Leopold for a while. The Village Elder was in very good shape for his age, but my baseline walking speed was still faster than his. More than once, I had to wait for him to catch up.

"So the Fula City fire…was it put out eventually?" I asked, trying to keep my voice intact.

Chief Leopold nodded. "It was, but not before the inferno had claimed dozens of lives, both human and Pokemon. As of this moment, nobody knows what the motive is-".

"That is, except for the person who did it" I interjected.

"They could be dead by now. Amidst all the panic and stampede to escape, there's every possibility that our perpetrator found themselves unable to run for cover. That said, the Fula City Police Department still considers the investigation to be open, and assumes the arsonist is at large."

My body began to shake; my blood, previously boiling, ran cold. "I might know who the perpetrator is."

Leopold gasped. "You can't say things like that, Sionne. You just can't. You never know when it'll come back to bite you."

"I mean, I don't know who the exact individual was. But I do have an idea as to the motive."

"If that's the case, Sionne, every network in the Fula Region is going to fall all over themselves to interview you. You realize that, right? You'll never have privacy again, at least not until the case is closed."

Leopold may have been trying to guilt-trip me there, but I wasn't going to fall for it. I was determined to tell him what I knew; or at least, what I thought.

"It's not like that" I promised him, not even knowing what I was referring to.

"It is like that, Sionne. The disappearance of Lucas Teller and Janelle Wilson, as well as the crime that led to it, are two of this year's most important events. Like it or not, two people who claim to be from a different world are going to attract attention. And so will you if you come forward."

"Fair" I responded gruffly. "But I can't just stay silent. If I can prevent others from meeting the same fate, don't I have a moral obligation to do so?"

"It's just not smart" Leopold shot back. "You'll not only put yourself in danger, but potentially Janelle and Lucas too. Just don't do it."

The Village Elder knew how to convince me to stand down. For better or worse, his "soft power" was incredibly potent. He could provide evidence to back up his claims, and he knew exactly what argument would be the most persuasive.

"I won't," I told Leopold. "But you have to do everything you can to bring them back, you hear me?"

The Village Elder smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "I'll do my best, Sionne. I can't promise you any more than that."

I was tempted to tell him that this wouldn't cut it, but I increasingly knew that continuing to argue with Leopold wouldn't be wise. He wasn't going to budge, and the sooner I accepted that, the better off I'd be.

And so I embarked back down the path to my house. Along the way, I noticed that the path had been raked clean of fallen branches and twigs - anything that could potentially be fuel for a forest fire. Of course, the real problem, the absence of Zeraora, would need to be solved in order to truly mitigate the risk. But for now, raking the forest floor was the best we could do.

Every time I thought about the current crisis, I felt a jolt of self-hatred and fury. Fury, of course, had a rightful place in my mind when dealing with these facts.

As for self-hatred, I wasn't sure even Leopold knew why I was so bothered. He could venture any number of guesses, but the true answer was dangerously close to my heart. And as much as I wanted to divulge it, now just wasn't the time.

And that begged the question: When is the right time?