To Marill, the blinding glare of the colossal attack kept expanding, filling her vision. She inhaled sharply, steeling herself with resolve, and stiffened her tail to brace against the incoming torrent of energy.
Jumpluff stirred awake just as Houndoom shook off its coma, regaining consciousness. Alongside Ralts, who had dashed to Marill's side, they unleashed their powers in unison.
Jumpluff's Energy Ball surged forward, Houndoom's Dark Pulse roared with shadowy might, and Ralts's Psychic shimmered with telekinetic force. Together, their combined assault collided with the massive attack, tempering its momentum. In that fleeting pause, Marill strained to anchor the onslaught with her tail.
Jumpluff, Houndoom, and Ralts poured their strength into sustaining their moves. The sheer weight of the attack bore down on Marill, driving her to the ground. She twisted around, pressing her back against the force, desperately summoning every ounce of willpower to resist.
Luther had never seen such a fierce collision of Pokémon techniques before.
Even with the trio's valiant efforts, Mismagius's devastating strike refused to wane. Marill's tail began to buckle under the strain, and a sharp ache pierced Luther's chest. He clenched his jaw, facing a grim choice.
If they couldn't halt it, he'd have to call Marill back, otherwise, the relentless energy would hurl her into the jagged boulder behind them.
"Marill…"
Just as Luther steeled himself to utter the command, a radiant white glow enveloped Marill.
Luther froze, instantly recognizing the telltale shimmer of Evolution.
The trio of Pokémon supporting her erupted in excitement at the sight. Marill's petite frame gradually rounded out, growing sturdier. As the light dimmed, Marill, still locked against the massive attack, pivoted sharply. Her newly strengthened hands seized Mismagius, who was cloaked in the chaotic energy, and with a mighty tug, she redirected the Ghost-type's trajectory.
Mismagius hurtled through the air, propelled by swirling gusts, before slamming into the earth. She tumbled several times, finally coming to a stop, motionless. The gem-like ribbons draped across her form shattered into a scattering of fragments.
Luther checked on his team, a flood of relief washing over him, only for a sudden wave of dizziness to pull him down.
When he opened his eyes, Luther found himself adrift in an eerie expanse of white, as though swallowed by an endless fog. Moments ago, he'd been locked in battle with Mismagius; now, he was here, lost in this strange void.
As he groped through the mist for an escape, the world erupted into color, like an unseen painter tracing vivid outlines and splashing them with life.
In an instant, Luther stood within the grand halls of a castle, its gardens bursting with vibrant blossoms.
Mismagius materialized beside him, her form faint and ghostly, nearly translucent.
The moment he laid eyes on her, Luther understood: he'd been dragged into her dream. This wild Pokémon had ensnared him in her illusions at the battle's end.
Mismagius gazed at him, her expression a tangle of emotions. Luther's feelings mirrored hers, he couldn't unravel her intentions or fathom what drove her.
Then, a Misdreavus floated into view, drawing his focus.
The little Ghost-type darted gleefully among a sea of flowers, joined by Bellossom and Ledian twirling around her. Misdreavus reveled in their playful company, giggling as she teased her garden friends.
"Misdreavus, you're flustering the young mistress again! I told you, she struggles to keep up, so take it slow," A lanky butler called out, wiping sweat from his brow as he hurried after her with a gentle reprimand.
At his words, Misdreavus's joy dimmed, and a hush fell over the Pokémon frolicking in the blooms.
The butler's attire struck Luther as ancient, like something from Sinnoh's history books, garments from two centuries past, now seen only at Pokémon Contests or costume festivals.
Luther glanced at Mismagius beside him. He sensed this vision was a memory she needed him to witness.
Her eyes drifted to a winding bluestone path stretching toward the castle garden.
There, a frail girl sat in a wheelchair guided by a Chansey. Her pallid skin, sunken gaze, dull hair, and rasping coughs painted a dire picture. Barely fifteen, she was clearly battling a severe illness.
Mismagius masked her sorrow and floated eagerly into the girl's arms. The girl's fragile hand brushed over her gently, whispering, "It's fine, I don't mind. Go have fun with Bellossom and the others."
Mismagius nestled closer, mimicking the girl's tender motions, inching into her embrace. At last, she rested beside the girl's hand, swaying softly with each stroke, her face alight with quiet bliss.
Luther watched in silence. He couldn't discern what was real or illusion, but the bond radiating from Mismagius was undeniable.
Time raced forward around them. The flower sea withered and bloomed, then withered again in endless cycles.
The girl's visits to the garden grew rare. Luther roamed the deserted castle grounds like a specter, watching vines creep over a grand clock, the bluestone path fall silent, and rust claim the castle's machinery as its caretakers dwindled.
Mismagius turned the pages of a calendar within the castle, marking three years' passage.
The scene shifted, drawing Luther from the sprawling courtyard into a warm, ornate room adorned with dolls, flowers, and paintings.
Beside the girl's bed lay an open sketchbook, its pages filled with early Pokémon League battle scenes. The drawings, sketched in a variety of styles, were paired with the girl's neatly penned notes.
"If I could step onto that stage, I'd give everything for my Pokémon, to prove what we're capable of together."
Luther read those words, etched in fading ink.
Beneath the pale pink canopy of her bed, the girl's frail body mirrored the wilted flowers crumbling outside in the frostbitten courtyard. Her gaunt frame revealed a network of faint veins beneath her skin.
Misdreavus rested close to her side, nestled where the girl's hand could easily reach to stroke her.
The girl's touch was unchanged from three years ago in the garden, slow, tender, radiating a warmth and quiet serenity that words couldn't capture.
"Just wait a little longer, just a little longer," She murmured. Her voice, once soft and melodic, had turned rough and jagged, sending a shiver through Luther's core.
"Just a bit more, and I'll be free when I go. I'm sorry for clinging to this world so long. Forgive me, Misdreavus, and all the Pokémon here."
"I wish I could see you after you evolve," She said, her longing gaze fixed on Misdreavus.
Misdreavus let out a piercing wail. Startled, she looked up with wide, fearful eyes before nudging the girl's hand with her head, as if scolding her for such dark thoughts.
Luther's throat tightened. He didn't know how to respond, what face to show, what stance to take, against words that cut through the veil between life and death. He could feel the girl's deep yearning to live and her guilt for tethering her Pokémon to this fading castle.
Here was someone who had fully surrendered to her fate.
The scene held steady, but time within the room raced forward. As thick snow blanketed the castle grounds, the defiant girl brushed Chansey's helping hand aside, rejecting Misdreavus's support. With trembling effort, she forced herself to stand.
She shuffled to the wardrobe and pulled out a dress, light purple with crimson accents along the hem, a perfect echo of Misdreavus's hues. Tears mingled with breathless laughter as she slipped it on, her chest heaving from the strain.
Luther averted his eyes to grant her privacy, then turned back to see her clutching the skirt's edges. She dipped into a shaky curtsy before him, graceful despite her frailty.
In the mirror behind her, Luther caught her struggling to steady her voice, fighting to soften the hoarse edge that grated her words.
She smiled faintly, satisfied. "What an awful color clash."
With that, she crumpled onto the bed, tears streaking her face, her breath fading to stillness.
She left Luther no chance to say, "Actually, it suits you."
Misdreavus's anguished cry filled the room. Luther watched as she flitted about, making silly faces with Psychic to coax a reaction, arranging flowers into goofy shapes, then pressing her head desperately against the girl's lifeless form.
The door burst open as Pokémon and the butler rushed in, and with their arrival, the room's illusion shattered.
Cobwebs draped the bedroom, dust coated the walls, and the furniture rotted in decay. The portraits lining the girl's space had yellowed, their edges blackened and riddled with tiny insect bites. Her cherished dolls sat moldering, forgotten. Misdreavus lay still on the bed, her head trembling faintly.
The castle stood abandoned now, no blooming gardens, only wild weeds choking the grounds, swallowing the estate in solitude.
From time to time, wayward travelers stumbled into this ownerless ruin. They seemed to relish the thrill, crunching over splintered furniture, lighting their way with oil lamps or Fire-type Pokémon to poke into every shadowed nook.
Misdreavus's Psybeam sent these intruders scrambling in terror, but fear didn't stop them. Soon, they returned in bolder groups.
Her illusions faltered under the strain. In a moment of dire need, Misdreavus evolved into Mismagius.
With mournful cries, Mismagius drove the trespassers away.
This form, so hard-earned, so long awaited, should have been a gift for the girl. Instead, it debuted before a crowd of strangers.
Mismagius drifted to the stone wall outside the girl's room and scratched a faint line with her spectral touch. It was the tally system the girl had taught her, each mark a testament to defending the castle.
The wall bore countless scratches now, a chaotic tangle of lines like the claw marks of some frenzied creature unburdening its grief.
(End of Chapter)