“What am I doing here?” Anya straightened up and strained her eyes to see past the darkness around her. The moon appeared to be covered by a cloud, because the world was pitch-black. All she could tell was that she was surrounded by some sort of plant - the wind made its stalks, or leaves, or branches, rub together with a rather comforting rushing sound. After blinking a few times, her surroundings began to come into more focus, but all she could see was something towering over her - a building, most likely. I was sleeping, in a tent, on the beach. What happened? Instinctively, she reached for her belt, where she kept her Pokeballs - and, notably, the Chinchou that would light up the area for her. But she’d unhooked it before she’d gone to sleep, so that - along with all the rest of her essentials - was gone. “I feel like I’m in a horror movie,” she murmured to no one. “But I don’t know where I am. And I don’t know how to get back to where I was. So there’s only one place to go . . . ” She stepped up to the building’s door. It was surprisingly accessible; it even had a handle. That comforted her a little bit. An unlocked entrance, probably brightly colored in the daytime, was much less imposing than a boarded-up, darkened one. The door opened easily, but, unfortunately, it didn’t reveal a well-lit entrance hall. Instead, it was just as dark as outside. And when it slammed shut behind Anya as she stood a step further in, she began to get a spooky feeling. But there was nowhere else to go, right? She walked further in until her feet hit a stoop - or, more accurately, a stair. Its fellows wound upwards, and into a lit corridor. “Oh, thank goodness,” Anya muttered. The corridor wasn’t well lit, and the flickering candlelight didn’t rid her of the vibe that something was very wrong. But at least she could see clearly for the first time in what felt like hours. She moved through the corridor, running a finger across the wall. It slipped into a groove, and she paused to look. ‘Tamerin. Dratini. A beloved Pokémon and an even better friend.’ The next one read ‘Carlos. Lucario. A loyal companion.’ “I’m in a graveyard,” Anya whispered. “A Pokémon graveyard.” There was a scuffling from the end of the corridor, and Anya turned to look. There was a young girl standing there. Her head was bowed slightly, bobbed dark hair falling over her face. Her hands were clasped behind her back. The scuffing was caused by her shoe, which was moving nervously back and forth. “I’m sorry,” said Anya quickly. “Did I scare you? I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” The girl didn’t reply. She just stared. She began tapping one of her fingers against the wall. -.. .- -. --. . .-. .-.-.- / .--. .-.. . .- ... . / . ... -.-. .- .--. . “What’s - ” The girl stared at her, then began to change. Her hair elongated, her skin darkened, and she seemed to sprout upwards, until Anya was staring at herself. “What are you doing? What’s going on? What are you?” Other Anya stared at herself, then began to run. Through the halls, down the steps - Anya heard the door slam. Then, there was silence. She walked to where the girl had been standing. ‘Zorua. A prankster. Died from violence.’ “Of course,” Anya said to no one. “It was a ghost. “I wonder what else is wandering in here . . . ?” She moved to the end of the corridor, where another door was waiting. As she opened it and ascended the staircase that followed, Anya thought. Is there a Pokémon that can bring others back to the dead? What was that Zorua tapping? What was it so afraid of? Why did it need to transform into me? She got her answer - or at least one of them - much sooner than she expected. The creature was gigantic and bird-like. Its red wings were splayed on the ground, showing off its black highlights. It stared at her through beady, ice blue eyes. Anya inhaled sharply. “Yveltal?” And before she could say anything more, its wings began to glow, and she was nothing.