She clad herself in near-darkness.

Lavender hair cascaded down her back as she tilted her head to eye the visitor whose troubled expression perturbed her. His eyes wandered about the incandescent torches while he fidgeted, flashing a glance at his surroundings, the grey walls causing him more discomfort. A quadruped lay motionless behind his feet, its body bearing vibrant splotches similar to those on its owner's clothes. At the sight, she sighed and poked a grey cloth on the table, watching its eyes open. Yellow pupils scanned the visitors and the strange cloth floated, the long horn on its head levelling her waist. It spun around twice before flying into a room and returning with a leather-covered book in its mouth.

"Good Shuppet," the girl muttered, still fixated at her visitors. Addressing them, she raised her volume. "So, you hail from Johto and you need my help."

The man nodded and brushed off the dust off his apron. "Indeed, uh..."

"Ao." She cocked her head sideways and sipped at her tea.

"A-Ao. My Smeargle died. Please save him." Apprehension dotted his forehead as he spoke with quivering lips. "And call me Drew."

"Drew, I can't save him, but I can resurrect him."

"Right, thank you. It's tough coming all the way to Sootopolis City."

"It's a test of sincerity. Necropolis— Sootopolis, I mean, is far and only by flying in or diving can one reach here. It shows at what lengths one would go to save a loved one, after all." Ao hardened her gaze. Her Shuppet grinned and landed beside her cup of tea, tongue stuck out to lick the rim of the cup.

She raised a hand. A shrill caw echoed from a room before a trail of delft blue feathers fell upon creaking floorboards, only to cut short when the creature perched on her hand. Its feather crest resembled a fedora hat, its yellow beak curved and the red feathers in its wings shimmered in the flames' light. The avian ruffled its feather and glared at the man.

Ao petted its head. "My Honchkrow doesn't fancy men." She popped a peanut into its open beak. "Sorry, it's feeding time. Now, shoo!"

The Dark-type unfurled its wings and returned to the room.

"Can you resurrect my Smeargle?" Drew asked, perplexed. Cracking his knuckles, the man's eyes fell onto

"I can." The girl yawned. "I will need all your despair to feed my Shuppet. I am a Necromancer so don't give me that look, painter."

From his pocket, he fished out a stack of bills and threw it onto the table. Fists slammed the table and it split into halves. Drew picked the bills up and with his empty hand, he took the paintbrush off his left ear, the tip black with glitters of gold. His liquid and baritone voice slithered around the room, an air of menace hanging and ready to attack.

"How much do you want? Surely you got to earn money from this quirky job. Anything but my despair is fine for me. I need it to complete my painting."

"Like I said, feeding time. My Shuppet asks for despair on the plate tonight. This week's menu is despair, and next week's will be grief, suitable for you. Also, money is needed, so thank you." Ao grabbed the cash and fingered them, like a Mandibuzz would salivate over its prey. "And, if I remove your despair, a painting shining with hope might be better."

"It's for an exhibition." He covered his eyes while stroking Smeargle's tail. "You took the money so please."

"Your despair," Ao said as she lovingly ran her fingers through the stack once more before putting it away.

Drew held onto his Pokémon and cuddled it, nuzzling at its fur, tears welling up in his eyes. "Fine. How do you plan on taking it?"

The Necromancer mumbled something, then pried his mouth open, her irises locked on his pair that brimmed with fear. The Ghost-type Pokémon inched forward and sucked a stream of black that flowed out of his mouth. The moment lasted a little more till a minute had passed and the man slumped against the squeaking floorboards. When he tried to speak, she gestured for him to stay silent. She wished to finish tonight's business quickly.

The witching hour began four hours ago. The stars above still scintillated and the constellation of Orion remained in the dusky sky. Ao relished in the splendour, then faced the man, her grimoire in one hand. Removing her fingers from Drew's mouth, her other hand reached for her staff which sat on the floor, the gem encrusted on the staff glowing amethyst.

"Now, we head to the basement," she told him as they trudged down a narrow flight of stairs. Fetid air rushed toward them and the man furrowed his brows while he took another step, cradling his Smeargle in his arms. Desperation cloaked his visage and Ao thought his veneer of composure failed to hide the remaining dark emotions prowling within him.

"Will it work? More money?"

The girl shook her head and her hair smacked his face. Wishing it was her hand that slapped him instead, she rolled her eyes and swatted the air. Behind her, the Puppet Pokémon sniffed the air, a smile forming on its lips as it danced. Clumsily, it bathed into a web woven by a tiny Spinarak that now had the frown pattern on its body facing the Ghost-type. Its shrill cry made the weaver back down and scurry to the top of the web, eight legs frantically climbing and sometimes tripping the Spider Pokémon. Ao giggled and cupped her mouth.

"More money?" She turned to the painter with a sinister smile. Her shadow shifted faster than her feet and overtook her. "That's not it. Do you honestly think money can buy you everything, including life?" Earning a look awash with guilt, she continued,"Aren't humans just greedy..."

Feet touched the cool basement floor. Drew swept the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling with a broom he found, glaring at the Spinarak that rained on his hair. Ao smirked and her shadow wavered. She took a lighter from a drawer of a dusty cabinet and lit a candle at all four corners of the room. The fluorescent bulb had blown and she mysteriously forgot to replace it every day.

An inscribed circle encompassed most of the floor, with triangles as runes that intersected within the geometrical shape to form an octagon. Her sleeves fell onto its circumference as she lay the Smeargle, belly facing up, at the centre of the circle. Looking up, she saw a painting of a two-headed Seviper biting itself in a hoop, forming a circle of infinity. Tonight, the Seviper's length shortened, and it would resume till the deadly venom seeping from its fangs fully dissolved its body. The two-headed Seviper held a sinful poison yet became a symbol of possibility due to its ability to move forward in either direction.

In her peripheral vision, Ao watched the painter study the painting.

He averted his gaze to meet his precious Pokémon. "Ao, did you paint this?"

She nodded and stepped out of the transmutation circle. Breathing deeply, her eyelids fluttered as her breasts rose and ebbed. Her grip on the staff tightened and the gem's light strengthened. Her shadow, on the other hand, shrunk while plates protruded from its back as it turned to its right.

"Your shadow," Drew pointed out.

The Necromancer combed her hair with her bony fingers and for a split second, Drew thought he was seeing a skeleton in front of him. She flicked her gaze from her visitor to her shadow before returning to see the painter biting his fingernails.

He's nervous, she thought. Exhaling, Ao licked her lips before addressing Drew. "Now, how long do you want your Smeargle to live?"

"Till we're done with the exhibition. We have to attend it."

"When?" She blinked and crimson liquid flowed from her irises, flooding her sclera, her eyeballs bobbing up and down.

"A week later," he said while rubbing his temples. "My number will be up soon. I hope I can survive this."

"Which is why removing your despair is a great choice. Look at you, clinging onto a ray of hope."

Drew slurred his words and the girl tried to catch as many as possible before filling in the blanks. Hearing his story, she could not feel at ease for his eyes would shake and overflow with sadness occasionally as he spoke.

Clearing her thoughts, she focused on the task at hand. Ao knew she had only till dawn to complete each resurrection.

"In that case," she said,"by the law of Equivalent Exchange, I'll be taking one week from your soul."

"Wasn't despair enough?" Fear engulfed Drew and he felt he had been lied to. His thoughts teetered about the crevices of his mind, anger consumed his wretched heart and he seethed.

"That was the start. It's only one week, not too much to ask for, right?"

He turned away, hair lashing the air and he brooded over the request. Slowly, his lips parted. "No."

"I'll make an exception. One day."

"No. If I never live to see my work completed, I'll be doomed."

"If you wish for an extension of your life, find Jirachi. I'm just a Necromancer, not a wish-maker." Ao felt cheated. She had never met someone so stingy. "One millisecond."

He relented. "Make it quick."

Ao did not need someone to tell we that. She knew from experience everything would soon be over. As the soul of the painter emerged from its mouth and the man, petrified, closed his eyes, her shadow stretched and took a tiny bit of his soul before it receded into his being. Her staff was simply an accessory, with no other purpose than for display's sake. The grimoire she placed at her side, ditto.

Drew blinked and tried his best to fathom his experience. He carried his Smeargle in his arms, and the Pokémon's eyes gradually smiled as it licked its trainer. "You are alive!"

Ao ignored him and blew the flames out, dragging her staff with her. Blood still flowed from her eyes and trickled onto the floorboards, the gaps containing the liquid which emitted the familiar scent of rot and copper. While they strolled up the steps, the sun inched above the horizon.

When they reached the main floor, she pushed the door wide open for him. But he did not leave, and instead his eyes fell upon a photograph on the wall. On it, a little girl cuddled a Gengar few feet taller than her and flashed a cherubic smile. Blurs of gold and grey, as well as blue fires, told him the duo were in Mt. Pyre.

"Is that the Gengar you fed my soul to?"

"Yes. If you have to know, your soul wasn't only aesthetically pleasing, but also mellow for the palate." At that, the painter glanced at her. His Smeargle swished its tail and barked, sensing the unease written on his face. Still, Ao continued,"And I propound you both vamoose with great importunity. My daughter is waking as we converse. You'll have my word that we attend the exhibition."

"Anything else?" He wondered what was meant by 'my daughter' for the girl was no more than seventeen at most.

"Have you a name for your painting?" Ao watched as Drew shrugged so she advised,"Give it a great name."

Drew fished out his phone and pressed a few buttons before putting it in front of the girl's face. It was a picture of the half-done painting. An olive- haired girl held two thick candles, white as snow, appearing shady due to a dearth of light. Near her feet, a stalk of white rose lay, thorns piercing the grey floor. Petals were strewn about the area, messy orientations that made the least sense to the Necromancer. A solitary tear, half-painted, left her right eye. Bones behind her shimmered and a few fractured Cubone skulls scattered themselves around her, and she became the core of the circle.

"This is in memory of the incident at Lavender Tower. The Cubone lost its Marowak mother to Team Rocket," the painter explained and Smeargle winked.

"Call it 'Circle of Ossium'. If you had brought me those bones, they would have reunited."

Ao watched the man leave, gasped and her shadow slammed the door shut. She slumped against the broken table. Her umbrage vanished as daylight filtered in through the windows. In its place, a bipedal Pokémon stood, grinning. In a swift scoop, he had the girl in his stubby arms and they entered her bedroom where a blue bed rested. The Shuppet pulled the covers for him and he lay her down before the Puppet Pokémon dropped the fabric. All was silent once again.

When the girl roused from her slumber, she rubbed her eyes. Her eyelids unfolded and in her vision was the Shadow Pokémon.

"Dad?" She murmured.

The Gengar placed a hand on the girl's head, messing her lavender hair. "Darling Ao, I'm here. I'm here."

"I had another strange dream."

The Gengar knew what it was all about. He had Shuppet fix the table and clean up outside, keeping the bills for him while the father and daughter talked. He had her to tell him of how she rescued a dead Smeargle from its demise and of a painter named Drew who thanked her for her deed. Mouth agape, the Pokémon clapped and showed signs of awe.

"It's a great dream. Next week, we'll go to an art exhibition."

"Dad? Do we have a basement?"

"No, dear. You must be melding dream and reality again." The Gengar laughed it off.

He needed a companion. Few years back, he found a timid girl, a survivor from washed ashore Dewford Town, a place far from Sootopolis City—Necropolis in his opinion for his beginning patrons were his neighbours. He adopted her and gave her a name, Ao, since she had worn blue that fateful day. Looking at the girl now, he thought it a blessing to have done so.

"Oh, Dad! How do you earn money when you're a Pokémon?"

"It's a secret. And, I've been doing more good deeds nowadays I doubt I'm that heartless anymore."

Though it was true that he had no physical heart. A Gengar's body was mere gas.

The Gengar cherished every moment he spent with Ao, who was conveniently naïve and adorable. The Hex Maniac defeated countless trainers in the morning and went to sleep at night. Or at least it seemed to be this way.

Days and nights passed, and those nights were the worst for Gengar. There was no business for him so he did not bother to enter Ao's body. Being both her and her shadow was double the work because possession itself could be exhausting. He would spare her as much as possible from her "dreams" for she would suffer. With Insomnia kicking in, Gengar watched over her. As a guardian cloaked in shadows, he swore to protect her.

It had been a week later that they attended the exhibition. All profits would go to charitable organisations and the hall was packed with people. Gengar spotted a few budding poets and beamed. They handed out sonnets of love for a few dollars. Others were short haikus that expressed the art of nature.

Amidst the crowd, a man stood before a painting that gained curious onlookers. 'Circle of Ossium' was different from the memory seared into the Gengar. Still, the girl's presence lingered but in her hands were not candles, but a staff with a lapis lazuli positioned at one end, enveloped by ivy vines from top to bottom. The bones remained, yet shadows of oblivion rose from their sides, grasping onto a thin thread. If one surveyed the artwork, one could see the word 'life' woven into the fine thread. In the vicinity, red sclera illuminated the painting, smoke mystifying the pair of optics. Spikes popped out seemingly out of nowhere.

She kneeled in a transmutation circle similar to the one the Shadow Pokémon drawn except there were traces of red where the petals once were. The bones found their place in the middle of the geometrical shape. Beside her, a whimpering Cubone held onto its skull, astounded and optimistic. What little amethyst light engulfed the Marowak's bones and slightly above the circle, one could observe the brown and whites of the Pokémon's flesh. Any morsel of despair in the painting had been transmuted into hope.

The yellowed pages of an open grimoire, scattered across the floor, caught Ao's attention. Pointing at the painting, then glimpsing at the painter and Smeargle pair, she tugged at the Gengar's arm. "They are from my dream, Dad. But the painting looks different from what I dreamt about. Did he gain inspiration from there?"

Without warning, the girl pulled the creature through the shuffling crowd and came to the front, meeting the gaze of the Smeargle which barked once.

As the painter faced them, she asked,"Are you... Drew?"

"Ao?" He responded with a smile. "Every millisecond counts. Tha—"

The graceful collapse of two sent the crowd into pandemonium, all except the girl and her Gengar. Shrieks filled the hall and cries muffled everything else.

"It seems he had terminal cancer."

"Can we save him?" Ao swallowed her tears. "Please?"

"No, Ao. Drew's desire to live with his Pokémon till the end is worth the cost of resurrection. We mustn't wake the dead as we wish."

Ao sniffed, knowing they died happy. The explanation of his painting came to mind.

"I embody both hope and despair. Eventually, hope still lives on."

That night, when the girl slept, Gengar entered her being. Lavender hair cascaded down her back as she greeted her visitor.

She clad herself in near-darkness.