Even as the energy from the Teleport faded and Cynthia staggered, she almost instantly realized what was about to happen. And so, with the last dregs of adrenaline scraping through her system, her mind raced.

  Most would probably assume the type she knew most about was one of the more common ones. After all, if you grew up with access to an entire region’s research archives, you’d naturally end up most familiar with the types that had been studied the longest and most thoroughly.

  That was, decidedly—

  Her legs gave out.

  Feeling like the world was tilting under her, she hit the ground hard, palms sinking into the grass. She forced herself to stay still. Trying to just breathe. To just exist.

  That was—

  She forced her head up.

  —decidedly—

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  —not the case.

  And she pushed herself off the ground. Somehow, she managed to stand. Almost straight. Mostly.

  She locked her eyes on a nearby tree.

  Because people usually forgot: her grandmother might be the region’s head professor, but she wasn’t just that.

  Keep thinking.

  Her grandmother was also a Psychic-type expert.

  She took a step.

  So was it really that strange that the type Cynthia knew most about was the Psychic-type?

  And another one.

  Really, if she had been more normal, if she had just chosen to build a team around a type like everybody else, she should’ve become a Psychic-type specialist like her mother and grandmother.

  Keep thinking.

  Because that would have—

  She tried another step and nearly collapsed. Desperate, she pinched her own hand, hard, and the sudden sting cleared her brain just enough.

  Keep thinking.

  Because that would have been smarter.

  Cynthia staggered toward the nearest tree and braced herself against the trunk, trying to find a good angle.

  Because Teleportation —

  She pushed herself away from the bark, trying to aim her head somewhere that wasn’t her boots.

  —was one of the most extensively studied Psychic moves. Invaluable for escape. A cornerstone of many Psychic-types’ battle styles.

  A hand snapped up to her mouth.

  And, more importantly, its potential to revolutionize transportation had made researchers obsess over it for decades.

  Her forehead almost smacked the bark as her bracing hand slipped.

  Still, strictly speaking, there were distinct ways a Pokémon could use Teleport.

  She breathed through her nose.

  The simplest was by sight.

  She pushed herself away again.

  Slightly harder was by memory.

  She stared at the ground.

  And the most advanced was through their Telepathy.

  She took slow, shaky breaths. Judging if she could reach her own hair. Or if she could somehow fight off the feeling.

  Teleporting by sight almost never caused problems. Clear mental image. Easy. She’d heard of Psychic-types crossing entire regions with enough training. Using memory was fine too—most Psychic-types had near-perfect recall, far better than humans or other Pokémon.

  But doing it through Telepathy?

  Doing it through what her grandmother sometimes called the mental domain?

  Cynthia’s gaze drifted downward. The grass. The cluster of red flowers swaying gently. Her vision blurred around the edges.

  Fight it off?

  Most didn’t really even know it was possible.

  Yeah.

  And that meant most people didn’t know what it felt like when a Pokémon tried to Teleport without a clear target.

  Someone gathered her hair, pulling it back.

  In other words, what she was really trying to say was that when a Pokémon teleported without a clear mental image, it had a tendency to feel—

  No way.

  The red flowers turned a splotchy yellow and green.

  …

  When she finally slid down a nearby tree, almost a full minute away from where they had collectively emptied their stomachs, Cynthia was fairly certain she had accidentally given up her soul in the process as well.

  She felt like a dried-out husk of a person, scraped hollow by the whole experience. The slight headache she’d woken up with, the one which had faded before facing the Elder Trevenant, had swollen into a thundering roar, pounding behind her eyes with every breath.

  So instead of trying to think, instead of forcing herself to form a plan, she let her mind go slack and simply stared at the idyllic meadow that had spread across the ground. After all, if nothing else good had come of this nightmare, at least they had escaped that damn forest.

  For a second, she just closed her eyes, trying to relax.

  Not even the faintest hint of sleepiness came. She was tired, aching, and drained—but not sleepy.

  She let out a quiet sigh, then forced herself to really look at the sight in front of them.

  Back when they’d first met, when Flint and Volkner had tried to describe the Grass Kingdom, they’d called it a meadow. A grassland grown over bare rock, with a forest dropped on top. It was just—Cynthia had assumed the meadow part had been swallowed up. Overrun by the deluge of trees, choked out before they arrived by the wild growth.

  But now, seeing this…

  A vast plain of grass, a sea of perfectly fresh green, stretched itself toward the mountain walls. Flowers bloomed across it in dotted patterns, sparse and scattered, but still bright enough to throw splashes of color into the landscape. The trees stood far apart, ten or twenty meters between each one, less like the thick forest they had just forced their way through and more like something she might have found in a quiet park. And unlike the grass outside the forest—patchy in places, yellowing in others—this was pristine.

  Yeah, they hadn’t been exaggerating.

  Volkner and Flint’s description from when they first met had still been accurate, just not for the outer layers. The part they’d seen weeks ago had been hidden away by the forest.

  Still, it was undeniably—

  Beautiful.

  She let herself take in the sight, not caring that they needed to find somewhere to sleep, that Johanna and Flint were both missing, or that her mouth tasted like someone had dipped it in acid. She just let the breeze rustle through her hair, let her eyes rest on the sweep of idyllic green, and listened to the distant sounds of Pokémon moving somewhere far across the meadow.

  “Thanks a lot. You really saved my hide you know.”

  Myst’s voice rang out.

  Cynthia exhaled slowly and let her gaze drift over to him. He was sitting cross-legged in the grass, offering an Oran Berry to the small green Pokémon in front of him. Navi had already been returned after collapsing the moment they landed. He was a little paler than usual, and his black hair stuck out in every possible direction, the dried blood from his head wound making it look like he’d tried, and failed, to style it with way too much hairspray.

  But, still, for all that he had emptied his stomach right alongside her and Volkner, he looked, somehow, remarkably better off than either of them.

  Really, just unfair.

  The round Pokémon in front of Myst stared at the Oran Berry he was offering it, then gave a long, unimpressed snort.

  Myst just grinned at it.

  “Okay. That’s fair. I should’ve known you had good taste. Honestly, I have no idea what the hell Rei sees in these things anyway.” He paused, then reached for his backpack—apparently deciding to ignore the fact that it was half exploded.

  He rummaged around for all of a few seconds before triumphantly pulling out a Cheri Berry, stalk and all. “What about this? I found this bad boy in the forest and figured I’d save it in case we needed it.”

  The little green Pokémon stared at it with flat, dead eyes. And, for a moment, she was sure it was about to reject this one too.

  Then its eyes narrowed.

  With a sudden, determined wobble, it shuffled toward Myst—and a section of the green, cloak-like wrapping around its body peeled open. Cynthia blinked when she caught the glimpse of smooth yellow chitin beneath.

  “Swadloon.” it declared, voice low and serious, as it took the Cheri Berry with a solemn nod.

  And then, without breaking eye contact, it lifted the berry to its mouth… and took the tiniest, most deliberate nibble imaginable.

  A soft crunch.

  Another.

  Each bite was precise, almost ceremonious—like it believed proper berry etiquette was a matter of life and death. Its little mandibles worked with a dignified rhythm, but its cheeks puffed ever so slightly with every bite, ruining any attempt at severity.

  By the time it finished, it gave Myst another grave nod—juice dotting the edge of its cloak in a perfect, utterly adorable smear.

  “Swadloon.”

  For some reason, Cynthia imagined it declaring the berry “acceptable.”

  She melted, some of her exhaustion fading slightly at just the sight. Still, before the rest of her could dissolve over how adorable it was, Volkner finally seemed to come to.

  With a groan, the lightning specialist dragged himself up from where he’d been sprawled on the grass and managed to shift until his back rested against a tree.

  He glanced over at Myst, narrowing his eyes.

  “Dude—what the fuck?”

  Myst blinked at the out-of-character swear and tore his gaze away from the Pokémon.

  “What the fuck—what? You mean this guy? It’s a Swadloon. Grass-Bug type from—”

  “Not that, obviously,” Volkner muttered, almost scowling. “I mean Navi’s Teleport. I feel like I just got hit by a truck, shoved through a narrow pipe, and then force-fed something on the way out—before having to, you know… lose everything I’ve ever eaten.”

  Myst narrowed his eyes at the tone. “Well, she wasn’t exactly in top condition, was she? Maybe a little busy making sure, you know, the Elder Trevenant didn’t literally just have us executed or something? Moreover, we needed to get away, and fast. Or would you prefer still sitting around with the Elder?”

  Volkner opened his mouth, eyes uncharacteristically bright with frustration, before pausing. He let out a long breath.

  “It’s just… I’ve been teleported before, and it’s never felt anything like that,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But I guess that’s what happens when a Pokémon… runs out of energy mid-flight?”

  Myst stared at him for a beat, then, apparently deciding the apology was genuine, shrugged.

  “Well, it’s not that. Teleport doesn’t work like that. If you don’t have energy, it just fails. Trust me, if it made you throw up, I would have known.”

  “But have you tried under this kind of stress? You said it yourself—it was do or die,” Volkner shot back immediately.

  As Myst seemed to consider his words, Cynthia automatically opened her mouth, ready to explain why, exactly, they had all ended up emptying their stomachs at the treeline. But before she could, she stopped herself.

  As much as part of her wanted to lean back and relax while discussing Pokémon theory…

  This wasn’t the time.

  She took a breath and forced herself to focus.

  “Can we shelve the discussion and focus on what we’re going to do next?” she said sharply.

  At her words, both of them slowly closed their mouths, then exchanged a pair of earnest nods—like they fully intended to pick the conversation back up later.

  She just sighed.

  Boys.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” Volkner said, before flicking a glance toward the forest. “So—first has to be finding Flint and Johanna, right? The elder Trevenant made it sound like they survived, after all.”

  Cynthia instantly shook her head. “We shouldn’t look for them.”

  Volkner whipped around towards her.

  “Why?” He demanded sharply.

  She winced at her own phrasing. “Not that we should abandon them. I mean—we shouldn’t look for them because they should be the ones looking for us. We’re the ones who are lost, not them.”

  Volkner blinked.

  “Oh. That’s… a good point.” He licked his lips, brow creasing. “Still, it doesn’t exactly hurt to at least try, right? If I had to guess, they’re probably still in the forest, trying to figure out how to find and rescue us. Shouldn’t we backtrack, see if we can find them, and then…” He trailed off.

  Cynthia still understood the part that went unsaid.

  Then get out of here.

  She fiddled with Queenie’s Pokéball as she thought.

  In the end, she couldn’t exactly say she disagreed with the notion. This place—the Grass Kingdom—she had underestimated it. Even with the Rangers’ warnings, even knowing how bizarre the situation was, she couldn’t lie to herself.

  They were in over their heads.

  If Johanna hadn’t been here, they would probably have been overwhelmed by just the Trevenant, never mind the Elder. Hell, they might not even have won against the gang of Nuzleaf without Johanna taking out the Shiftry.

  Now, without her… knowing there were twelve others like the Elder?

  She furrowed her brows, clenching her hand.

  Honestly, in over their heads might be an understatement.

  And yet…

  “What did you guys think of the Trevenant… village?”

  She lifted her head, only to meet surprised looks from both Volkner and Myst.

  She flushed.

  “Sorry. I know I said we should focus, but you know…” She waved her hand vaguely. “Haven’t you noticed how organized this place is? How unlike a regular Pokémon community it is?”

  Volkner looked at her, then at Myst, like he expected him to translate.

  Myst just shrugged. “Not really? I mean, I don’t actually know how Pokémon make communities in the first place. Other than, like, Salazzle forming a giant harem—”

  He paused, stroking his chin with the hand that wasn’t busy feeding Swadloon another Cheri Berry.

  “…or Vespiquen forming an even bigger one.”

  She stared at him flatly.

  He gave her a quick grin. “Kidding. Kidding. But seriously—I don’t know. I guess the Trevenant village was weird, considering how the houses on the sides looked like Pokémon heads, but aside from that… not really?”

  She sighed, then glanced towards Volkner, only to meet his shrug.

  “Haven’t really thought about it. Kind of busy thinking about Flint and how to rescue Navi.” He said simply.

  She frowned, about to explain.

  Then Myst’s words finally registered.

  She snapped her head around.

  “They looked like houses?” She pressed.

  Myst hiked up a brow.

  “I mean… kind of? Like a kid’s drawing of one? Door for a mouth, two windows for the eyes.”

  She nodded eagerly, some of her energy returning as she spoke.

  “Right? But for all that Pokémon can form hideouts and homes, they’d make useful ones, right? Even if they hollowed those out, half of them were too small to enter. And what’s the point of a home you literally can’t walk into? Does that sound like something a Trevenant would make of their own volition?” she pushed.

  Myst tilted his head, considering—but before he could answer, Volkner cut in.

  “You’re trying to get at the fact that the Pokémon here are following some kind of hierarchy and structure, right?” he guessed.

  She just turned, but before she could say anything Volkner continued.

  “I mean… maybe.” he hummed, “But I don’t think you should base that on the buildings, or houses, or whatever they were. They weren’t hollowed out? Some were too small? There could be a ton of reasons for that. Maybe they just weren’t finished and the smaller ones are for earlier evolutions? After all, Myst said they were a second stage, right? Or maybe they weren’t hollowed out because they didn’t need them to? Trevenant are Pokémon that seem to literally be made out of trees. Maybe they can swap bodies somehow, and the structures are just… potential replacements.” He sighed, “Point is, trying to conclude a whole structured society out of that alone is a pretty big leap.”

  Cynthia nodded.

  “True. But that’s only if we consider just that. There’s a lot more behavior that doesn’t make sense.”

  She leaned forward slightly.

  “I didn’t think about it at the time, but how could the Nuzleaf even get that close without us noticing? Like—fine, they’re Dark-type, so Navi couldn’t sense them. But what about Rei? She should’ve heard them coming. She can literally hear Myst packing Oran Berries from halfway across a city. Four dozen Pokémon running through the forest? No way. The only way she didn’t is if they moved without making any noise at all. And sure, Nuzleaf can learn Faint Attack, but they were in no way strong enough to keep it up for an entire day of running around. The only reason they would be able to sneak up on us is if they already knew exactly where we were.”

  Volkner didn’t respond, just furrowed his brows.

  Myst pursed his lips, before glancing down at Swadloon. Then, before anybody could react, he picked up Rei’s Pokéball and released her.

  In a flash of red light the small Bunneary appeared—and instantly scanned the environment. Then, seemingly realizing they, for once, weren’t under attack, she relaxed slightly.

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  “Rei.” Myst said, just to get her attention.

  Rei snapped around.

  “When we were attacked by Nuzleaf, you were paying attention right?”

  She instantly narrowed her eyes, almost into slits.

  Myst patted her head.

  “I was just asking. But seriously—you couldn’t hear them until they attacked? Or were they just stealthy and you didn’t realize?”

  Rei frowned at his hand, and batted it away. Still after a moment she mumbled quietly.

  “Bunneary.”

  Myst looked up at both of them.

  “She heard nothing.”

  Cynthia just nodded.

  “Right. That’s what I mean. Another Pokémon had to have told them where we were, and I’d guess it was a Trevenant. And that’s the problem. I know you two probably don’t get the full significance of something like this, but Pokémon don’t normally act like this. For them to coordinate like this… I can only think of a few very limited scenarios that might explain it—until we’re completely in uncharted territory.”

  For a second, everyone went quiet, until Volkner slowly spoke up.

  “Myst… when you were translating for the Elder, do you remember what it was actually conveying behind your words?”

  “Honestly… not really.” Myst tapped his fingers against his crossed legs before shaking his head. “No—more accurate to say I don’t remember anything at all. Everything is just a mess of feelings. I think I was using one hundred percent of my brain just trying not to have it freaking explode.”

  Volkner narrowed his eyes. “Well, I can’t say I understood much of it—most of it sounded like nonsense, and I was busy thinking about how to escape—but it did say something about fading, right? Because the ‘Majesty’ was sensing its resistance, or whatever? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing one of your very limited scenarios is—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. He just turned and stared at her, like he was hoping—really hoping—she wouldn’t finish it the way he thought she would.

  Of course, she had to disappoint him.

  “Pokémon of different species, coordinating and acting in ways they normally wouldn’t? Considering how the Trevenant talked…”

  She exhaled. “It’s probably some kind of mind control.”

  “How would that even be possible?” Volkner asked after a moment, his voice level. “Ranger Clayton said there were twelve Pokémon on the Elder’s level—and all of them had those bloodshot eyes. If that’s also a sign of direct control, then something is controlling twelve Pokémon strong enough to stand against two conference-level Pokémon while holding back.”

  He paused, considering.

  “I could be wrong,” he admitted, “but I don’t think even a Champion’s ace could manage that. And if you need something stronger than that, it would have to mean…”

  He paused, like he just realized where he was actually going with this.

  “…Legendary?”

  The wind seemed to sweep across the trees at the word, as if even a calm mention of it threatened to draw attention.

  For a few seconds nobody said anything. A few seconds stretched into two. Then three. Then ten—before Myst finally opened his mouth.

  “Okay. Okay. I feel like we might be slightly over speculating here. How about we dial it back a little? Jumping from mind control to literal divine intervention is… a bit much, no?”

  Volkner let out a sigh. “I wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t think it was possible. I might not know much about mind control, but I do know that using it to completely dominate a Pokémon’s actions is almost impossible. You’d have to be exponentially stronger than your target to control even one. Controlling twelve? I can’t imagine anything short of—well, something absurd—pulling that off.”

  Cynthia reluctantly nodded.

  “He’s not wrong.”

  Myst looked at her, then at Volkner, before rubbing his face lightly.

  “You know… instead of all this speculating where our situation keeps getting worse and worse without anything actually happening—how about we just ask somebody who might actually know?”

  Cynthia stared at him flatly.

  “And what do you propose? That we go back to the Elder and try to have it explain everything again?”

  He stared back just as flatly. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and pointed at the Pokémon that had been sitting right in front of him the entire time, calmly devouring its second Cheri Berry.

  “…oh.”

  She paused, then pouted at Myst’s smug grin.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  …

  As Volkner wandered a little deeper into the trees for some very nonspecific private reasons, Cynthia found herself focusing on Roselia and Swadloon, trying to follow their conversation.

  Trying—and failing.

  At first she’d managed to sort of keep up, but now? After Roselia had sped up for what felt like the tenth time? Yeah—she didn’t stand a chance. She wasn’t quite as proficient at understanding him as she was with her other Pokémon yet, and once he hit rapid-fire pace, the meaning blurred together completely.

  So instead, she let her eyes drift to Roselia’s red scarf, hanging on by just a thread.

  Though, honestly, calling it “hanging on by a thread” was far too generous. It was hanging on by a miracle. The knot looked like it had been retied too many times—uneven, tired, and ready to give out at any moment. One good tug and the whole thing would probably fall apart. Some part of her wanted to find him a new one.

  Some part.

  She’d made the mistake of asking once if he wanted her to find him a new one—once. She wasn’t keen on repeating the mistake. Roselia might not remember where he got it, but he still remembered what it meant. How important it was. She really wasn’t looking forward to the day it finally fell apart.

  “You understanding anything?” Myst whispered, leaning down next to her.

  She immediately pushed him away, making a face.

  Myst blinked.

  “What?”

  Then he blinked again, realization dawning as he took several rapid steps back.

  “Sorry. Didn’t think.”

  She took a couple of breaths to clear the air, then shook her head.

  “Don’t worry. And not really—it’s going way too fast. I got some bits in the beginning. Swadloon not quite understanding what Roselia was asking about, but that’s about it.”

  Myst nodded slowly, casting a glance at the Grass-Bug type.

  “Seems about par for the course. Couldn’t get too much useful information, that would give away the mystery.”

  She shot him a dry look.

  “Oh. The horror.”

  He just grinned.

  “Yeah. Imagine if we didn’t get to take down a Legend. I think that’s like, mandatory for the protagonists.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Idiot.”

  A couple of seconds passed, and as they watched the two Pokémon try to communicate, Myst’s voice lowered slightly.

  “Our current theory is mind control. Got any thoughts on what Pokémon it could be, and how they could do it?”

  “Some,” Cynthia mumbled, before glancing at Myst. “What about you?”

  He nodded slightly.

  “Considering where we are, I’m restricting myself to Grass-types, but that still leaves a bunch. Honestly though, I’ve been thinking more about you guys mentioning it possibly being a Legendary. I got a couple of candidates, and one that fits scarily well.”

  She nodded along. Yeah, that tracked. She had been thinking about so—

  She froze.

  No.

  No way.

  She snapped her head towards him.

  He didn’t notice, too busy staring blankly at Swadloon and Roselia talking, brows furrowed.

  “You…” she began.

  She never got to finish.

  “I mean, if I’m being real, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but some parts just don’t really fit, so I’ve kind of written it off. But now with the whole mind control thing… Well, it still doesn’t really make sense, but every other Legendary makes even less sense…” he said.

  Completely casually.

  Like he was discussing a Budew he’d seen on Route 203.

  Because of course he would.

  She turned back to stare rigidly at Swadloon and Roselia.

  Why would he care about casually discussing something like this? Why wouldn’t there be a Legendary he could instantly tie to their situation?

  Just like that.

  No hesitation in sharing the information.

  Just: Legendary? Oh, actually, I know exactly which one you might be talking about.

  Actually, you know, if you want I can even tell you where to find it!

  “It’s from Galar—Calyrex. Grass and Psychic-type, said to be able to make plants spring forth.”

  After all, anything less ridiculous would almost be out of character, wouldn’t it?

  “Moreover, do you want to know its epithet?”

  He paused when she didn’t answer, glancing over at her.

  She was very sure her face looked calm and normal. Perfectly neutral. Perfectly composed. She even smiled at him. Pleasantly. Serenely.

  Myst raised a finger to continue.

  She maintained the exact same smile.

  He slowly lowered the finger.

  “You know what,” he said, “never mind.”

  She caught his finger on the way down.

  His eyes widened a fraction.

  “What do you mean never mind?” she asked softly. “You can’t say A and then not say B. That’s not how this works, Myst.”

  His eyes dropped to his finger, and for a couple of seconds he didn’t say anything.

  “Is now a good time to say I am suddenly fearing for my life?” he whispered, voice almost coarse.

  Cynthia just smiled.

  “B, Myst. B.”

  Myst stared at her, pupils dilating just a bit.

  She stared back, waiting for him to listen.

  Then seconds passed—long enough that she felt a bit of the manic edge in her chest finally begin to cool. Her head cleared just enough for her to slip her hand away from his finger and level him with a look.

  “Well?”

  He blinked, like he’d only just realized he was supposed to talk.

  “Oh. Right.” He licked his lips, eyes flicking over her expression. “Um. So. Basically—Calyrex is known as the High King Pokémon. And technically everything about it fits what’s happening here. But, at the same time, I feel like it’s known as a good king. A Pokémon that connects and mends hearts. A protector of stuff. Not—” he gestured vaguely at the forest around them, “—whatever is happening here.”

  He exhaled sharply through his nose.

  “Mind control like what the Elder Trevenant was under? Doesn’t exactly sound like something a Legendary like Calyrex would do. I mean, I don’t really remember what it was saying while I was translating, but I could still feel its mind. And it was exhausted. Completely drained. In pain. That… doesn’t exactly scream benevolent ruler.”

  Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to argue against taking myths at face value—then slowly closed it again.

  Some part of her still wanted to push, to dig deeper, to keep unraveling things with Myst the way they always did… but she had nothing to bring. She had never even heard of Calyrex before—anything she said would be pure guesswork, and not even the useful kind.

  Still…

  “Legends can get distorted over time,” she pointed out.

  Myst shrugged helplessly.

  “Yeah, and that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

  …

  “Roselia Ros. Roselia.”

  She isn’t sure about the Majesty. Never heard of them.

  She nodded, filing that away as something potentially useful.

  “What about how the forest appeared?”

  Roselia shook his head.

  “Roselia.”

  Doesn’t know.

  “How the Grass-type energy boost works?”

  “Roselia.”

  Didn’t know about it.

  “What about—” She stopped herself, realizing she had no more questions.

  She glanced behind herself, to see if Myst or Volkner had anything more to add, but both just sighed.

  “Seriously?” Volkner mumbled.

  Myst just shrugged.

  “It’s not Swadloon’s fault,” he began. “You heard what it said, right? It’s been hibernating, or sleeping, or whatever, for a long time, and only woke up after all of this went down. Swadloon didn’t even realize anything had changed—just crawled out of its nest, wandered off in search of food, got lost, and then found us.”

  Volkner stared for a couple more seconds, then let out another sigh.

  “I guess. It’s just our luck that the one Pokémon we find who isn’t affected by this ‘Majesty,’ and is willing to talk, knows exactly nothing.”

  “I mean, it’s not like Swadloon told us nothing.” Myst began, “Wherever all these Grass-types came from, they clearly all lived in the same habitat—Swadloon remembers meeting the Elder Trevenant before, and back then the Trevenant were all independent. And the things it doesn’t know are information in themselves. Swadloon’s never heard of anyone called ‘Majesty’ and doesn’t know about the Grass-type boost, so whatever changed… it has to be relatively recent.”

  “Right,” Cynthia said. “Moreover, Swadloon also mentioned that this place is similar to where it used to live. That it didn’t realize anything had changed, because it was already used to living surrounded by large rock walls. In other words, that means—”

  She stopped mid-sentence for some reason, some part of her brain catching something.

  “Cynthia?” Myst asked.

  She didn’t reply, snapping her head toward the meadow instead.

  They had shifted a little since arriving, standing in the half-darkness beneath the trees—far enough in to stay hidden, but not so far that she couldn’t still see the open stretch of grass beyond them.

  And as her gaze swept across that wide, green expanse, a surge of déjà vu hit her like a truck.

  “It used to live in a similar place,” she repeated, slower this time, the words feeling different as her brain finally made a connection she should have made ages ago.

  The Grass Kingdom.

  First she had been focused on crossing it, understanding how it operated… then she’d gotten caught up in how the Kingdom part of it worked. All of that meant she’d ignored how familiar this place actually was when you broke it down.

  A world enclosed by stone.

  A world saturated with a single type of energy.

  A world that housed Pokémon she had never seen.

  A world beneath the world.

  “I think I know what this place actually is,” she said quietly, her eyes never leaving the meadow.

  The Grass Kingdom had never made sense. But one question she’d pushed aside, because they’d had far too much else to deal with, was where all these Pokémon had even come from. She’d lazily assumed they’d migrated in from around the mountain, but that didn’t hold up. For all her grandmother’s rants about Sinnoh’s newly formed pokédex teams being sloppy, you didn’t just miss this many Grass-types.

  So they couldn’t have come from outside.

  And they probably hadn’t.

  Because she was pretty sure they came from underground.

  “Well, care to share with the class?” Myst asked.

  Of course, not everything lined up perfectly. The underground desert biome they’d been to almost two weeks ago had been rich in Ground-type energy, sure, but not like this, not enough to boost attacks by an order of magnitude. And none of this explained the Majesty.

  But still… it fit.

  Myst waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Anybody home? Hello?”

  Cynthia spun on her heel, almost smacking into Myst’s hand on the way.

  “The underground.” She rushed out, “The Pokémon has to have come from one of the underground biomes. I think this might be a new one forming. Or them somehow moving their old one.”

  Volkner hiked up an eyebrow.

  “Underground?”

  She nodded.

  “Underneath all of Sinnoh, there are these giant, self-contained biomes—places formed by overflowing energy of a single type. According to Byron, some of them have Pokémon he’s never seen or even heard of before. Doesn’t that sound like this place? Hell, the Elder Trevenant even mentioned something about the Underground right? I think that—”

  Volkner snapped a hand up.

  “Wait. Back up. What do you mean there are giant self-contained biomes underneath Sinnoh?”

  Cynthia blinked, momentarily thrown.

  “Or, well—maybe not all of Sinnoh. But definitely under Mount Coronet. We learned about them when a couple of kids got lost in the old mines and ended up stumbling into one of the biomes.”

  Volkner just stared at her, face blank.

  “…What.”

  Myst patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I can explain later. And…” he paused, glancing down at Swadloon, “…you could definitely be right.”

  Swadloon straightened the moment it realized Myst was looking at it—then sagged a second later, as if remembering it didn’t matter if Myst was watching.

  Myst huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. “But still—how do you explain the type energy boost? I mean, we didn’t exactly see anything similar with Ground-type energy while fighting the Krookodiles. Never mind the fact that you’d think they’d use more Ground moves if it did exist.”

  “This place hasn’t finished expanding yet, right?” Cynthia said instantly. “If I had to guess, we’re seeing an overflow in Grass-type energy because the biome hasn’t reached its full size yet. The energy that’s supposed to fill the whole area is still… compressed.” She tapped her fingers against her arm, thinking aloud. “As for the Krookodiles?”

  She hesitated—just long enough to come up with a reason.

  “Maybe they didn’t come from the desert biome at all? We met them on the edge of it, and we even saw one moving through the tunnels. What if they came from a Dark-type biome instead? One that borders the desert?”

  Myst cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a leap. And that still doesn’t really explain how it suddenly appeared here. Nor what is going on with the Majesty.”

  She slumped slightly.

  “Okay, maybe not everything makes sense, but I think I am still onto something.”

  Volkner looked between the two of them, his expression shifting somewhere between confusion and resignation, before he finally let out a long sigh.

  “You could be right. But still, how about we take a step back from trying to figure out what this place is, who the Majesty is, and why literally everything here is acting weird? I mean, considering Swadloon gave us no new information, anything we try to think of is just going to be speculation.” He lifted a hand, ticking off points with his fingers. “Because we still have a few actually urgent problems. Like figuring out how to reconnect with Johanna and Flint. Or deciding where we’re supposed to sleep. Or, you know—how to not die and get out of here.”

  Cynthia forced herself to nod at his words.

  “Right… okay. True, I guess.” She paused, mentally forcing herself to not argue, “Then I guess step one is figuring out where we should stay? We don’t exactly have a reliable way to contact Flint or Johanna. And without Navi here to scan the forest, we’d be completely dependent on Riolu finding their aura signatures. Not impossible, but… we’d have to get lucky. Unrealistically lucky.”

  Myst let out a long, defeated sigh. “I swear, sometimes I wish we could just call them. Where are—”

  He cut himself off, staring blankly at the air for a moment, before slowly glancing toward her backpack.

  “Huh.”

  Volkner followed his gaze. “Huh—what?”

  Myst pointed at Cynthia.

  “Your Pokédex. Can’t it flag an emergency? We can just call the Rangers with it, right?”

  Cynthia blinked.

  Right.

  It did have that functionality, didn’t it?

  She forced herself to think about it, even as something in her chest recoiled at the idea of calling for help.

  “I don’t… think so?” She hesitated, trying to remember exactly how her grandmother had explained it. “I mean, it’s not foolproof. I’m not totally sure how it works, but as far as I know, it really only has range on the routes. Off them, it’s apparently just up to luck.”

  “Probably because it mostly travels through the public network,” Volkner said immediately. “And the signal towers are only placed along the routes since those areas are already patrolled—so yeah, you’re right, we probably won’t connect to any of the city Ranger stations.”

  Then he paused, raising a brow.

  “But aren’t you forgetting something? Rangers all have methods to communicate with each other. As long as a Ranger can pick it up with some kind of portable receiver, it doesn’t matter if the signal reaches outside Coronet. There should be plenty of Rangers inside the mountain.”

  Myst sent her a look of expectation.

  Cynthia almost pouted.

  She got it, she agreed. They were in over their head. Calling Rangers for help wasn’t something shameful.

  But, at the same time…

  She just sighed instead.

  “Okay—fine.”

  ….

  When his emergency receiver began beeping with the tone reserved for civilian calls, William genuinely felt like stabbing somebody.

  It wasn’t enough that Clayton had gotten to run off and call for reinforcements.

  It wasn’t enough that he’d been dragged away from his very relaxing assignment of watching the yearly Geodude migration.

  Hell, it wasn’t even enough that he’d spent the last four days trying to negotiate with a Bug-type tribe that seemed to be actually crazy—only for him to more or less fail.

  No, someone had to wander close enough that his emergency receiver went off.

  He dropped his head forward and thunked it against his oldest partner—hard enough that it actually hurt.

  Him, of course. Donphan was made of sterner stuff than his skull.

  “Donphan?”

  We are not going?

  William let out the most miserable groan a grown man could reasonably produce without dying on the spot.

  Honestly, Clayton had one job. One.

  Make sure the trainers currently stuck at the halfway house stayed at the halfway house.

  And how hard could that be?

  Just explain to them, in painful, bloody, detail that they would all die horrible deaths if they tried to get here. It wouldn’t even be an exaggeration.

  Because he was ready to stab.

  He dragged a hand down his face.

  “Of course we’re going,” he muttered.

  Donphan stared at him—flat, unimpressed, ancient-warrior patience radiating off him in waves.

  William ignored him. Jabbing a thumb into the receiver, he waved it around until the red indicator finally flicked into a light green, pointing him in the right direction.

  “But seriously, Captain,” he grumbled to no one in particular, “I know Clayton is family and all, but can’t you send literally anyone else besides the guy whose big idea was ‘hey, let’s bring in the trainers with one or two badges for help.’ Because, surely, the only way to fight a horde of Pokémon is bringing your own horde of scrubs.”

  “Donphan.”

  You are exaggerating.

  William rolled his eyes as he pulled on his goggles. Then without another word he hauled himself back up onto Donphan’s broad back and gave him a firm pat.

  “Look, I know you think the best of everyone, but think for a second. If somebody’s emergency beacon went off all the way out here, and we find them missing a couple limbs, who do you think gets blamed? Me—for being helpful? Or Clayton—for not doing his job?”

  Donphan paused, and then, rather than answer, let out a loud toot and lunged forward into a full charge.

  William had just enough time to swear under his breath before grabbing on, clinging to the harness so he didn’t get launched off the poor Pokémon’s back.

  Yeah. That’s what I thought.

  Then he locked in, lowering his center of gravity as the world blurred around him. Trees whipped past in streaks of green and brown. Wild Pokémon jerked their heads up at the sound of Donphan barreling through the undergrowth, but none of them had more than a second to register what was happening before he was already gone. Even the ones tending some kind of strange meadow-field were left blinking in his dust.

  Donphan might not have been the fastest Pokémon on paper, sure—

  —but William was still a trainer who’d placed top four at the Conference with Donphan as his ace.

  Donphan wouldn’t win in a one-on-one against one of the Royal Guard—or whatever ridiculous name Clayton had settled on—especially not with the type disadvantage and this absurd Grassy Terrain boosting everything around them.

  But every other Pokémon out here?

  If he didn’t count his captain’s ace, Donphan could still bowl through them like pins in a bowling alley.

  As one minute bled into five, William finally risked a glance down at the receiver in his hand. The indicator was still light green. A small problem, if he was being honest. Considering their current route, he was racing straight for the forest. And if the light hadn’t even shifted toward dark green yet, that meant he was still nowhere near the source.

  If this kept up, it meant his worst nightmare was real.

  They might be trapped inside the bloody thing.

  He was going to kill those—

  The light snapped to dark green.

  …Or not.

  William jerked his head up just as Donphan rounded the bend, and the forest came into view all at once, looming like the jaws of a very large, very leafy predator.

  A dozen Pokémon snapped their attention toward him.

  This time, he didn’t let them scatter.

  “Knock them out—carefully!” he barked.

  Donphan didn’t even slow. Instead, his entire body lowered, plates grinding as he locked into the stance William knew all too well.

  The next step hit like a drumbeat.

  BOOM.

  The earth shuddered. A ripple of dirt and force blasted outward in a perfect ring, sweeping the nearest Grass-types clean off their feet. They yelped as they were tossed aside, not seriously hurt, but still knocked out of commission.

  Another step.

  BOOM.

  Another shockwave blasted out, sending a cluster of Oddish tumbling like kicked pebbles.

  A third.

  BOOM.

  A Cherubi fell from a nearby tree. A Roselia dove out of the way. A Wormmadam got blasted away as she tried to stand her ground.

  William just grinned as Donphan barreled forward like a living earthquake, every thunderous step punctuated by a perfectly timed Bulldoze.

  It was a technique that was almost useless in a real Pokémon battle.

  But out here?

  When he was surrounded and trying to force a path through?

  Not a single Pokémon stayed standing in his way.

  By the time they reached the treeline, Donphan had carved a perfectly straight, perfectly safe corridor through what had been a crowded meadow only moments before.

  William hopped off, dusting off his ranger jacket. Then, adjusting his hat, he unclipped the strap that kept it fastened and checked the receiver.

  Still dark green.

  Welp.

  He turned toward the forest and squinted.

  Considering how close they were to the meadow, they’d probably already found it, which meant they were using the forest for cover. In other words, they might’ve been stupid for coming out here—but they weren’t complete idiots, at least.

  He raised both hands to help carry his voice through the trees.

  “Hello? Any rich kids with super-expensive, long-range broadcast gear their parents bought them?”

  Donphan sighed behind him.

  “Don Donphan?”

  Do you think that helps?

  William just shrugged.

  “If they come out, great. If they don’t? Well, I’ve never met them—so Clayton can deal with the fallout when some clan heir goes missing.”

  He didn’t need to turn around to feel the look Donphan was giving him.

  Still, even if Donphan was skeptical, the world proved William right in the end.

  A branch moved in the corner of his eye, and as he snapped his gaze toward it he finally saw who had called him over.

  Or, well… the three who had called him over, apparently.

  William scanned them instinctively, even as he waved at them with a grin.

  Two boys, one girl—none of them he recognized on sight.

  The most eye-catching of the trio was a boy who stood a good ten centimeters taller than William, all lanky limbs the way kids his age and height usually were, but with striking features. Blue eyes sharp enough that he could make them out even from here. Long black hair that probably would’ve been silky if not for the dried blood staining it.

  He was, unambiguously, handsome—the sort of handsome William’s sister would immediately scream about if she ever met him.

  In other words, a boy she would never get to meet.

  He almost moved his gaze away, but then instead it snapped down to his feet.

  On the boy’s right padded a banged-up Buneary, clearly fresh from a fight, its fur matted with dirt. But that wasn’t what held William’s attention. No, his gaze locked onto the boy’s left, where a very familiar green round Pokémon waddled at his side, wearing an expression he could only call proper.

  There was absolutely no way that was…

  Right?

  A light cough rang out, and William snapped out of his thoughts, tearing his gaze up to meet the other boy.

  Compared to the first, he was smaller—though still probably taller than William. Bushy blond hair, a slightly more built body and a face that looked like a… rockstar.

  His lips turned down.

  Really?

  The blond boy blinked slightly at his reaction, but before he could open his mouth William cut him off.

  “All of you fine? None of you about to die?” He asked.

  They all looked at each other.

  “No, but we were wondering if—”

  William cut him off again.

  “Okay, great. Anybody in danger? Anybody nearby I need to pick up?”

  Both boys seemed almost lost for words, just staring at him. William sighed and turned to the girl, scanning her automatically out of habit.

  Flanked by a rare Gabite. Somewhat pale. Tall. Blonde. Cool style. Super beautiful—

  Of course.

  He sighed for what felt like the millionth time.

  “The questions?”

  The girl’s back snapped straight, and she blurted out an answer, sounding almost nervous.

  “There might be two more in the forest.”

  William raised an eyebrow.

  “Meaning?”

  She blinked, like she’d only just realized what she’d said, then relaxed slightly.

  “Uh. I mean, we were a group of five. But we kind of got captured by some Trevenant, so we got separated.”

  William went still.

  They got captured by the freaking Trevenant?

  Fuuuuuu—

  The tall boy stepped in. “What she’s trying to say is that we three got captured, but the other two got away.”

  Oh.

  “So you don’t know where they are?” William asked, loosening a little.

  The girl shook her head. “We don’t. Sorry, but we were honestly hoping you could help us?”

  William paused at the question, not answering right away. For a moment, he scanned the forest again.

  It wasn’t that finding someone in a forest was impossible. He could do it… probably. But still, it wasn’t exactly his specialty.

  Moreover, the forest was its own problem.

  From what he and his colleagues had pieced together, the forest functioned as a kind of barrier to the outside. But because they’d already been inside the “inner ring” when it appeared, the Rangers actually knew less about the forest’s interior than almost anywhere else in the Grass Kingdom. Not to say they hadn’t tried to gather intel. They had, sending Clayton and Brian up with Flying-types, but both attempts ended the same way.

  The canopy was too dense. They couldn’t see shit.

  He slowly shook his head as he turned the answer over.

  “Sorry. Not right now. If you knew where they were, that’d be one thing. But searching that place is going to take forever. And, more importantly, I don’t have the Pokémon for it.”

  They all looked at each other, but none of them argued. Which was great, meant he didn’t need to use force.

  “Okay. But you are going to send help, right?” The blond guy said firmly.

  William nodded.

  “Of course. Just can't go in without a plan. One of the guys on our team is a tracking specialist. One of the Ranger’s finest experts at tracing psychic influence.”

  All three teens visibly relaxed, smiles spreading across their faces, relieved their friends would be fine.

  William smiled back.

  Oh, yes, be happy—you are safe with me.

  We are just going to have a small talk when we get back.

  …

  None of them had any Pokémon to ride.

  He had to walk back to base while protecting them.

  …Where was his survival knife when he needed it?