An Inferno on a Stormy Sea (PerfectWorldShipping)

Prologue

Sinnoh, 1999

Classroom 2A of the Rowan Pokémon Lab, Sandgem City.

Sun shines through the open blinds, illuminating particles of dust swimming lazily through the air, and falling on the periwinkle cinder-block walls. For a few moments, the room is peaceful, dappled here and there with students' chatter-

Until a single, strong hand yanks the blinds shut.

The man, average in height, muscular yet plump, flies around the room and yanks all of the blinds closed. The students blink in the darkness, yet to adjust.

He pulls his navy blue vest down as he strides to the front of the classroom, turning on his heel to face the students.

His face is intense, skin pale, a head full of dark brown hair and mutton chops of the same color.

He is Professor Rowan Carnet, 46 years old.

"Now." With a harsh zip, Rowan pulls down the projector screen. "Welcome to week two of your Evolution course."

Most students, ranging in a variety from fresh out of secondary school to mid-university age, sit intently leaning forward in their seats. One of which is the professor's 20-year-old daughter, Camille Carnet. She wears a black sweater over a navy blue collared shirt, with black denim jeans. A fragment of a shiny stone hangs on a necklace round her neck. She wears her back-length, curly black hair in a ponytail. However, her bangs are far too short, and spring out of the hair tie and in front of her face. The typical look of a diligent student.

The student across the aisle from her, however, is a stark contrast.

He leans backward on the back legs of the chair, twirling a pen in his left hand. He wears a burgundy blazer over a gray button-down, black slacks, and shoes that his peers could have sworn were shined- regularly. His hair is long and fluffy, red, and hangs over his eyes- that of which are a strikingly pigmented blue.

With his looks- and admittedly, money- he's attracted men and women alike, but his voice, deep and smooth with a thick French accent, could make any one of them melt like wax to a flame. His name is Lysandre, and with a name so noble, his classmates swear he's royal.

His aspirations lie with inventing, yet he's found himself in Professor Rowan's Evolution course as to fulfill his credits.

He bites his lip and leans forward, the front legs of the chair slamming down onto the linoleum with a metallic thud, eyes entrained on Camille from across the aisle. She can feel his eyes bearing down onto her and practically searching her soul. She slouches and pulls at her sweater as to hide her chest.

He is attractive to her, however, her career is of far more importance in her mind. She can actually take in Rowan's words as she writes fervently. She lifts her head to see what her father is saying, only to see him walking very calmly towards her classmate. He stops in front of Lysandre and turns on his heel.

"Mister Floor-The-Least."

The redhead's posture immediately shoots up, and he scoots forward in his seat.

"Actually, erm, it's Fleur-De-Lis," He corrects softly.

Rowan waves a dismissive hand.

"No matter. Could you please tell me what the catalyst for evolution is, in its full scientific name?"

Suddenly, it's as if something clicks in the 24-year-old's eyes, and he immediately starts combing through his notes.

"Uh... it's an, erm.... it's an enzyme...."