The bags weigh more than imagined. In front of the shelves full of sweets for humans and Pokémon, the shopping frenzy must have hit me at some point. Conia has probably unpacked at least half of them again, so we don’t have to walk around with a year’s supply of chocolate and candy berries. But in the end, four bags have filled up despite everything. They rustle with each step, awakening anticipation in every fibre of my body and eliciting far too joyful emotions.

  Halloween is one of those days when Castelia City is only half as monotonous as all the other weeks and months of the year. People are less tense. Conversations are kept short. There are pumpkins with funny faces in front of some houses. Next to them are small baskets of sweets for children and their partners.

  Every ten minutes, the mood in this city lifts a little more, and you can see in the shining eyes of some that there will be hours tonight that everyone will relish. Even the abandoned Pokémon in the alleyways and the Pidoves on the streets are venturing closer to passing figures, stealing some of the food set out, or receiving friendly gifts from passers-by on their way home.

  I can’t help but soak all these things in, hoping that these memories will stay with me even on such a chilly October day.

  The sunset colours the roofs of the city a rich orange. Window fronts reflect the image of a bright disc slowly disappearing behind the sea. It’s without a doubt an end of day like any other, but I can’t deny the candles at the entrances of some houses and a few dressed-up children on our way back are enchanting.

  All the way to headquarters, I inspect the various costumes, and one trend stands out: Most kids want to be Pikachu, while young teenagers go for cool Pokémon like Charizard or Dragonite. Even Pokémon are wearing costumes, and I think the image of a Krokorok dressed as a Jigglypuff will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “How much time do we have left?” As soon as we cross the threshold into the Explorers’ building, I turn to Conia.

  She, meanwhile, glances at the Rotom. “Amethio will be on his way to us around nine. That leaves us three hours to get everything ready.” A sigh escapes her. “I just hope that everything will work exactly as discussed.”

  I’m in good spirits. If worse comes to worst, Amethio will take us all out into the fresh air and force us to camp somewhere in Unova. So there’s no need to worry about his reaction, nor to rack our brains about what will happen to us after tonight.

  Putting the bags down in the kitchen, where Zir is sitting tensely in front of the oven, I dare to smile. “Everything will be fine.” Immediately afterwards, I turn to our accomplice, in whose hands is already a large bowl of biscuits. “Did your baked goods turn out well?”

  It takes a moment until Zir detaches from the baking process and proudly raises his chin. He briefly holds out the bowl of treasures he has created, and I don’t know whether I think the little Mimikyus with their banana icing or the Phantumps with dark chocolate glaze are cuter. He has done a great job, and although there are a thousand other things to do, I can’t help but bridge the gap and treat myself to a biscuit.

  Just one bite is enough to satisfy me with its nutty flavour and gentle honey note. All that’s missing is a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows in it, and everything would be perfect.

  But reality is different. Most of the cold dishes still have to be brought into the meeting room before Conia gets to work on the pre-prepared, lukewarm plates that will fill us up later in the evening. The room is already decorated with small illuminated pumpkins casting a ghostly orange glow around every corner. Zir has taken care of some Zubat garlands, and somewhere in between we have placed a large bowl of punch, which, covered with a lid, doesn’t allow a glimpse of the floating eyes inside.

  If we can’t give Amethio a conventional scare, a drink will surely play into our hands. At least that’s one of the endless hopes we’re harbouring for today, which we’ve been going over in every spare minute over the last few days.

  Sighing, I pop the rest of the biscuit into my mouth before whirling around to Conia and expressing with a nod of my head that we should take the chance to get changed. After that, Zir can put on his costume, and we’re ready for the next step.

  From the kitchen to my room seems to only take a Meowth leap, and as we help each other into our costumes, I let out a delighted squeak as her Mega Banette costume finally sits. It’s a heavy, dark grey turtleneck jumper with wide but stiff sleeves that make her hands look tiny. The pink-painted nails are in perfect harmony with the pink trousers, which end in equally pink heels. Zips adorn the hem, as well as the hat and the attached horns on her head, and although it looks kind of cute, Conia’s makeup brings out a bit more creepiness. Neither the lips, which look like another zip, nor the pink-painted eyes convey a child’s birthday party.

  In comparison, my Mismagius costume makes me look like a witch with her own magical powers, and if everything wasn’t so damn purple, I’d probably look as mesmerising as Conia. But nothing much can be done about my appearance, and I take it with a smile that makes my false fangs almost fall out. They’re a horrible fit.

  The sunset, meanwhile, brings darkness with it, and it won’t be long until evening lies over Unova, moving in faint terror from door to door.

  “Are we ready?” It’s Conia who looks at herself in the mirror again and fixes a few strands of hair. Then she gives me a disbelieving look. She most likely can’t believe she’s got herself into this.

  All I can do is nod. An agreement that makes us swallow before we tighten our shoulders and make our way back to the kitchen. Zir is no longer sitting in front of the oven, and the freshly baked biscuits are missing. Presumably, he has set off to take things to the meeting room. We should help. So I grab a plate of Yamask muffins and one with juicy sausages wrapped in pastry and push past Conia into the corridor. She follows me with a bowl of cheese, which we will melt later, and a plate of snacks for dipping. We can get the hollowed-out pumpkins later.

  No one comes to meet us on the way to the lift or to the room borrowed from Hamber. It seems as if the headquarters are deserted – which isn’t far-fetched, considering that apart from a few professors in the basement and our team, there’s no one here. Hamber is running some errands, Gibeon is staying on his floor, and the other Explorers are either on a mission or have kept the evening free for a bit of self-care. Spinel is resting in another town, and the rest aren’t in Unova.

  When I finally put the plates down and survey our work in this otherwise cluttered room, it’s warm candlelight on the table that mesmerises me with its flickering glow. The smell of gingerbread hangs in the air, and I’m sure Zir has put up the wrong scented candle. Conia seems to notice it too but just shakes her head. Today she doesn’t even bother to comment.

  “You should change your clothes.” Instead, she turns to her partner, who is sitting on the sofa with his Rotom Phone.

  Now that the table is against the wall and we’ve moved all the chairs into a corner, it looks completely out of place.

  Meanwhile, Zir looks up from his video, and the sight of us puts a grin on his face. “All right! But compared to you, my costume will be insane.” He gets to his feet. “Be warned!”

  Before Conia can counter, he disappears out the door, leaving her leaning against the table with a sigh. “I hope he didn’t choose some stupid Nidothing costume. He spends far too much time on that channel...”

  “Nidothing?” It seems I spend too little time on video platforms in comparison. Books are my favourite thing at the end. “What’s there to see?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Information about a few Pokémon; pointers on things to watch out for in battle; tips and tricks on attacks and their advantages in certain situations... It’s a channel to help you get started as a trainer.”

  In short, it’s a channel that would have helped me a lot in Alola if I had known it existed. Maybe I’ll look at these videos when I get the chance. You can never get enough knowledge.

  “Then isn’t it benefisial for Zir to wats these videos? Education about trainer battles is important.”

  “Probably. But I think he sometimes gets a little too distracted by the videos that aren’t about that kind of thing.” She puts her hands on her hips. “He wastes time with videos about friendship and interpersonal relationships.”

  “What’s wrong whis that?”

  “He has us. Why does he need videos like that?”

  I let out an amused snort. We are colleagues, somehow friends too. Our goal is a well-functioning unit in which we fulfil our missions smoothly. That’s not much, and it likely feels far too rarely like a genuine friendship for Zir to share Conia’s opinion. There’s also the fact that they both grew up together – maybe they’re related – which puts friendship on the back burner.

  I think if I had grown up with one of them, as part of a family, I would also find it difficult to talk about friendship.

  “We sould take a photo for Lillie,” I change the subject. “And we sould give our Pokémon some freedom.”

  Skilfully, I dig my team’s Poké Balls out of a pocket of my dress and let each member of my squad out. Four chaotic Pokémon immediately collide with Golduck and Skarmory and instantly form their little world. Conia looks at it with a grin before taking pictures of the room, our food, and our Pokémon with her Rotom.

  “We should take a picture of us too so she can get creeped out!” It’s Zir’s interjection that draws our attention to the entrance.

  His tall figure is dressed in a black full-body suit full of orange accents. The helmet on his head gleams red-orange and the pieces of armour, which also look as if they are a round but firm part of his limbs, give him a touch of Ceruledge. But the colours don’t match, and no matter how hard I try to recognise the Pokémon he’s portraying, I can’t figure it out.

  “Armarouge?” Conia, however, recognises it immediately. “I have to say ... it looks pretty ... cool. But it’s not a Ghost-type Pokémon.”

  “We didn’t set a theme.” Zir shrugs his shoulders. “And all those Pikachus and Charizards out there aren’t very Ghost-type either.” He immediately raises his Rotom. “Let’s capture this!”

  It’s minutes in which we indulge in the fun. Zir snaps an excellent picture of Conia and me while we capture an exuberant pose on his part. Even our Pokémon get a snapshot or two. In the end, we even try to take a group photo, but no matter how we twist and turn, our costumes don’t seem to match. Zir’s bright colours outshine Conia and me.

  In the end, we agree to send the individual photos to Lillie. After the last call I made to her, she didn’t get back to me. She’s probably neck-deep in research that could help her mum. I just hope the Dream Mist has reached her well.

  “We need to review the plan so we don’t end up messing it up,” Conia interrupts my distant thoughts. She holds her hands on her sides, her gaze fixed on Zir, who glances briefly at the Rotom’s timer.

  “We still have thirty minutes. He’s likely already on his way. Amethio would rather be too early than too late.” Snorting, he lowers the Rotom Phone. “We’re sticking to the idea?”

  “Conia and I’ll try to find Amesio on the second floor in time and then send you a message so that you can swits off the lits,” I say as we finalise our plan. “And when it’s dark, we’ll give Amesio the fright of his life. At best, we’ll capture it on video.”

  “I wonder what kind of face he’ll make.” Putting a hand to his chin, Zir jumps on the thought Conia and I had a while ago. “We should get into position!”

  Although our action is to drive Amethio a little mad, Zir and Conia show considerably more approval than I would have anticipated. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I expected I would be the only one trying to introduce him to Halloween. In the end, the other two are loyal to him and do everything they can not to harm him. The fact they get involved despite everything gives me the feeling of being part of the whole – someone they trust enough to accept even small pranks against their “superior”.

  The warm feeling of belonging forms a gentle smile on my lips, which I can’t shake off even when I step out into the corridor with Conia. We leave our Pokémon behind.

  Together, we sneak up the stairs to avoid running into Amethio in front of the lift. The climb up the stairs is hardly draining my muscles, and it reminds me of how much I suffered when we were still on Alola. By now I think I can take on any mountain climb if I have to.

  Still, my breathing quickens as we reach the top and pull the door open just a crack to make sure Amethio isn’t within reach. Then we slip into the corridor on the first floor, scurry along the walls, and take the turnoff to the kitchen that we left behind earlier. With the light switched off, we press ourselves tightly against the wall next to the entrance. This keeps the automatic door open and prevents any telltale hissing in the corridor.

  An eternity seems to pass as we wait in silence for a sign of life, and as footsteps echo along the walls, I hold my breath. Slowly, I count down from ten in my head, and as Amethio gallantly steps into view, I suddenly feel Conia’s hand on my upper arm. She looks at me, half stretched out in my direction. Our eyes meet, we nod, and in a blink, she has dug her Rotom Phone out of her pocket and written a message to Zir.

  The next thing I know, we’re pressed against the wall again and waiting. At best, Amethio walks past us without noticing a thing. With my hands flat against the smooth steel behind me, I try to breathe in and out evenly. Then I look at Conia again. She keeps glancing at Rotom’s display, her lips puckered so the painted zip comes together unevenly.

  Meanwhile, Amethio moves closer. My heart seems to jump in time with his movements, while a small grin creeps onto my lips. Zir is probably counting down the seconds before he switches off the lamps, and I can hardly wait to see Amethio’s panicked face.

  A breath later, I think I can feel him walking past us. He’s uninterrupted and heading straight for the lift that will take him to the conference room. In the next instant, there is a loud clacking sound; darkness falls over us, and I can barely see my hand in front of my eyes. However, I hear Amethio’s faint sound of surprise in the distance, and before I think about turning to Conia, I move. I want to reach him, want to be the first to see him. Rotom is already in my hands.

  But I can't grab his shoulder before the bulbs switch on again. The sudden brightness temporarily blinds me. Squinting my eyes, I raise one arm to see anything at all – the empty corridor in front of me.

  Instantly I whirl around to Conia – who, to make matters worse, isn’t standing behind me. The pounding in my chest gets stronger, faster, and more intense. Unable to decide whether to look for Amethio or Conia, I sway from one leg to the other.

  Once again, I look in the direction Amethio took earlier. Conia is maybe still in the kitchen – perhaps she changed her mind at the last second – which means only our target has disappeared without a trace.

  Yet the falling darkness prevents me from deciding. Once more, I can’t see anything and have to blink several times until I think I recognise the light from the lift. The slightly orange-coloured glow is surely also Amethio’s refuge. It’s my chance to keep appearing out of nowhere behind him.

  So I hurry ahead, hoping that Zir won’t switch on the lamps again without being asked. Mouth twisted to avoid a mischievous smile, I push myself to the junction to lean against the wall with one shoulder and take two small breaths. Then, with my arms raised and a loud “Hey!” on my lips, I jump around the corner.

  But Amethio isn’t there.

  The glow of the lift burns on my retina – more white than orange. Apart from the strange brightness that combines with the overhead lamps and casts a ghostly glow onto the corridor.

  I swallow dryly.

  A pumpkin floats in front of me. No bigger than a football, but it hangs there in the air, with strange black fur on top. It turns towards me as if in slow motion, revealing no face, just two holes that look like eyes.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Amethio seems to like Halloween more than expected. This thing in front of me must have been one of his ideas. However, it’s not enough to scare me, so I lean closer and stretch my hands towards it. Ceruledge has probably learnt something about levitating things or, contrary to what I know, Amethio has a third Pokémon. The latter is so far-fetched I let out an amused snort – in the same breath that the pumpkin lowers itself in a flash, shoots forwards and bites my hand.

  A scream escapes my throat as the shock runs through my body. The black fur on the pumpkin blinks at me, sinking its teeth deeper into my flesh and emitting weird, piercing sounds. However, the burning in my hand isn’t nearly as bad as the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Unintentionally, I fling my hand around and stumble backwards, trying to wake my stiff legs. The pumpkin detaches from me somewhere in between as I collide with the wall.

  It gives me enough support to gain distance until I crash into another obstacle behind me. The contact jolts through my body so quickly that I jerk my head to the side to look over the shoulder. Gentle light falls on pale skin, shimmering in violet eyes, but isn’t enough to bring relief. Instead, I notice Amethio, grab him by the wrist and run off. His protest barely reaches me.

  As fast as I can, I chase along the corridor, past the kitchen, towards Amethio’s room. It’s the furthest from the lift.

  My throat burns as I reach for his card but realise I don’t have it. My grip on Amethio’s wrist tightens.

  In the next second, he swipes his card through the reader, and the door slides open with a gentle whir. At this point, I’m almost glad the power supply is as well organised as it is in this building. Immediately, we disappear into his room, the doorway closes behind us, and I dare to let go of my companion. I take a few hurried breaths, trying to calm my racing heart and organise my thoughts, but I can’t concentrate. Conia, the floating pumpkin, and my plan all demand the same amount of attention, which I can’t muster.

  “What was that?” Amethio’s strained voice reaches through to me. The faint glow of the outside world provides enough brightness for me to see him – and with it, his vague gaze, scrutinising my outfit.

  “There ... was a floatin' pumpkin,” I finally reply. Explaining to him what my actual plan was is not an option.

  “Floating pumpkin?” He raises his eyebrows. “A Pumpkaboo?”

  He says what I couldn’t think of, and the sudden realisation turns my stomach. I’ve run away from a Pokémon that’s relatively harmless. They don’t attack anyone who doesn’t get in their way.

  A sigh escapes me as I raise my hand and look at the bite that has left my skin covered in blood. Now that I look at it more closely, it throbs unpleasantly. Pressing my lips together, I swallow at the sight. The pain is bearable, but it triggers a shivering inside me that eats through my bones.

  Until Amethio wraps a cloth around the wound.

  His sudden caress makes me hold my breath anew, hoping I won’t feel my heart race even more. Meanwhile, his fingers gently tie the fabric around my injury. Then he looks at me.

  “We should go to Ariana’s medical office and get this fixed up.”

  He likely knows I would just clean and bandage the holes in my hand – the quickest and easiest option. Then again, there are probably ointments and remedies to consider in such cases, and anyway, part of me is reluctant to go alone. Running into another Pumpkaboo would be bad for my heart. And my nerves. So I grumble in agreement.

  Without further ado, Amethio turns to the door behind me and opens the passageway, as if we don’t need to be afraid of a feisty Pokémon. But as soon as the heavy metal has buzzed aside, we are greeted by a ghostly orange glow, and I can’t help but slip behind his back. My team is waiting in the conference room. My companion is in a much better position with Ceruledge.

  To my surprise, Pumpkaboo doesn’t move. It remains hovering in place, looking at us. One could believe it is tame and just waiting to be touched by someone – so it can bite the next person.

  Amethio isn’t surprised by this behaviour. Instead, he steps aside so this little pumpkin can float into the room. Then, as if it’s perfectly natural, he moves to the window to open it and release the Pumpkaboo. In a second, it floats out into the city and flees, until, at some point, it’s just one of many shimmering points out there.

  “You got esperience with these Pokémon, don’t sou?” The fangs make it so difficult to speak I have to take them out. I don’t know how many words I’ve already ruined.

  Instead of turning to me, Amethio stops at the window. The gentle but cool breeze from the outside world blows through his hair, and, for a moment, he looks like someone who longs for faraway places and grand adventures – just like I once did on Alola.

  As if in slow motion, I creep up to his side, leaning on the windowsill and savouring the warmth of his forearm as it presses against me.

  “It’s not the first Pumpkaboo to get lost here,” he replies. “Besides, there were many of them where I grew up.”

  I can’t help but look up at him. His past is one of those things I know nothing about. It still baffles me how my heart can beat so strongly for him when I know basically zero about him. But looking at him right now emphasises the nervous heat in my chest, and part of me wants to believe it will only take some more time to unravel every one of his secrets.

  “They say souls tend to possess pumpkins, creating Pumpkaboos,” I explain as my gaze slides back to the world outside. The small, orange-coloured spots there are wondrous, and presumably, they are all little Pokémon that are now trying to sort out their new lives. “That’s why most pumpkins just disappear after Halloween.”

  “They are supposed to make their way to the afterlife in this form,” replies Amethio. “They and all the other souls who couldn’t find a body. They lead said souls with their light into the world beyond.”

  His words linger like a veil between us as I separate the shimmer of the city from the glowing dots floating around. To imagine that these little Pokémon have such an important purpose gives this moment a delicate glow of transience. Perhaps it’s because Halloween is said to be the only time of year when ghosts are given true power, as all energies are in sync.

  Although my goal was different for this evening, I can’t deny this here is perfect. All at once, it doesn’t matter that I’ll most likely never be able to scare him – though I hope to be by his side next Halloween, too. Here, arm to arm, it’s enough to be with him and follow the ghostly glow of Castelia.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” When Amethio suddenly turns to me, tilting his head, my breath catches. The hope that he has forgotten the inquiry about my appearance and the mess here vanishes.

  Instantly, I open my mouth but can’t get a word out. I don’t want to lie to him because he’ll find out the truth anyway, but I also don’t want to ruin these seconds with my stupid idea from days ago.

  Still, I know I have no other choice. “I... You didn’t want to celebrate Halloween. So I convinced the other two to prepare a few things with me so maybe you could enjoy it after all...” My gaze wanders in a different direction as I purse my lips. “And maybe I had the idea it would be fun to give you a good scare. Zir switched off the light and Conia-” I falter.

  I’ve completely forgotten about her because of the chaos and this little oddity. She must still be somewhere on this floor, and when I think of all the pumpkins we’ve hollowed out to put outside later, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s facing an unusual problem, too. Worse, said problem has probably dragged her away!

  “Oh…” leaves my lips in the next breath, before I tighten my shoulders and start running. Amethio merely produces a strangled sound, but can’t stop me as I dash into the corridor and find myself in darkness, barely able to see.

  Still, I stumble ahead while a faint glow behind me illuminates the path. A glance behind me tells me that Amethio is following. He doesn’t catch up with me until I reach the kitchen, and just as I turn the corner and halt abruptly, it seems he only barely manages to stop beside me without causing a collision. However, his stumble is no match for the chaos in front of us.

  Pressed up against the fridge, Conia tries to keep her mouth shut while three Pumpkaboos float up and down unsteadily in front of her. Quickly, I reach to my hip, but neither my bag nor my team are by my side. This unfamiliar feeling will haunt me for the rest of the evening.

  “Hey!” To my amazement, Amethio pushes his way to the front and points his light directly at the three pumpkins. Then he gestures for them to follow, and, contrary to my experience, they obediently float in his direction.

  None of these Pokémon dares to attack or is afraid to trust him. Instead, they allow themselves to be led away by him. For my part, I stand rooted to the spot in the kitchen doorway and watch him for longer than necessary. It takes a while before I turn to Conia.

  “I thought you’d backed out!”

  Gasping, she slides down the fridge until she’s sitting on the floor. “I was just about to follow you when I noticed a strange flash. And when I turned around, there were these Pumpkaboo. I actually wanted to hold you back or shout something, but I read somewhere that Ghost-type Pokémon don’t like loud people ... or at least not shouting...”

  So she held her breath and tried not to make a sound while she realised that Golduck and Skarmory are guarding the food with my team. Facing a pack of Pokémon that could be friend or foe unarmed isn’t exactly one of the most pleasant moments in life – unless maybe it’s a Caterpie.

  “You should write to Zir so he can switch the light back on.” I hang my head. Scaring Amethio is no longer possible, and generally, he’s done better in this situation than Conia or me, anyway.

  “I already did ten minutes ago.” She holds the Rotom Phone up to my nose. “And he’s not answering...”

  Our eye contact lasts a full two breaths. Then I press my lips together and run both hands over my face. I don’t even want to think about it, but the likelihood that Zir has also made the acquaintance of a Pokémon doesn’t seem so absurd.

  “We should check,” I suggest. “And preferably before Amethio re-”

  “You realise this will all backfire on me if Hamber finds out, don’t you?”

  The goosebumps on my body follow an unpleasant shiver as I perceive Amethio’s voice close behind me. My plan to help Zir without Amethio knowing is cancelled.

  “Of course, sir! I mean ... we ... well...” Conia gets tangled up in her words, unable to relax at least a little in front of her superior. She may decided to go along with my scheme, but when he asks something of her, she switches sides faster than I can blink.

  “That aside, we really should check on him.” Eventually, I turn my attention to the guy behind me. Amethio eyes me briefly before nodding and taking the lead. That way, I can be sure the next Pumpkaboo will attack him first and not bite me again.

  Lining up close behind him, I look at the cloth with which he has bandaged the injury and stopped the bleeding. The fabric has soaked up a lot of blood, leaving a noticeable red stain that’s already a dried and brownish colour around the edges. The throbbing remains, but it is barely perceptible. Instead, my hand feels strangely stiff and plump.

  With a sigh, I lower my hand as the light from the lift engulfs us. For a moment, the three of us seem cramped in the middle of this small room, but it also lends the situation a kind of security we can no longer expect one floor below. The bulbs here might be on, but the silence thunders in our ears.

  Amethio leads us to one door leading to the basement – a closed-off area for electricity anyone can enter. It’s the first time I get to see one of the lower rooms, and although there are only gloomy stone walls and everything seems bare, cold, and deserted, the endless switch boxes and labelling give this environment an unusual sense of order.

  With the Rotoms of the other two, there is enough brightness to decipher the small signs easily. However, our brightness is no match for the orange glow at the end of the corridor.

  Neither of us dares to make a sound. Instead, we creep forward as Zir’s panting draws closer. It quietly creeps along the walls, getting louder with every step, and when we look around one of the larger electricity boxes, there is chaos between Pokémon and a human.

  Mirra is trying her hardest to keep the light switch down, while a Pumpkaboo with unusually slender vines tries to push the switch up. Lum is constantly swatting at another Pumpkaboo, which snaps at him. Growlithe sits under the power box and watches. All this is accompanied by a wrestling match including Zir and a Gourgeist, whose long, pink hair sticks to his upper arms like chewing gum.

  “What the...” Conia’s whisper pretty much sums up all our feelings, and just as Amethio lets out a soft sigh and releases Ceruledge from its ball, the cellar light switch catches my eye. Someone has flipped the little lever, and part of me doesn’t think twice as I push it upwards and the click floods the room with dazzling brightness in the same breath.

  Ceruledge’s blades shimmer briefly in ghostly blue. The flickering flame at the back of its head rears up, and the sudden presence of another, out of nowhere, elicits the sound of a startled Sprigatito from Zir. Suddenly the fight no longer seems to matter. Gourgeist clings tighter to Zir, who hugs the Pokémon as if they are facing death. The arguments over the light switch stop, and only Lum is still at war with his opponent.

  It takes a few breaths until Zir recognises Ceruledge not as a ghost but as a helper. However, he doesn’t let go of the Pokémon.

  “A-Amethio, sir...” His eyes dart back and forth between his superior and Gourgeist. “I-I... Well...”

  Amethio simply raises a hand to silence Zir. There’s no point in discussing this mess – mainly because he already knows what we planned and because most of the stupid ideas were mine.

  “We should release the Pokémon before they do any damage,” Amethio starts. It’s a sign for Ceruledge to act, so it shoos the three Pumpkaboos in our direction, and Gourgeist slowly detaches itself from Zir’s body.

  Together, they form a manageable picture of small souls trapped within these walls – a place where they don’t belong. They put up little resistance as if they already know that all we want is peace. None of them attack while they slowly float towards the staircase. Conia and I are the first to follow. In the background, we hear the click of the switch that turns on the lamps on the first floor.

  Until we reach the exit door, the Pokémon hover calmly in front of us, and only when they can go any further do they turn towards us again. This time it’s me who bridges the gap and opens the door for them. Careful not to look at any of the Pokémon, I trigger the sensor, and the cold air of the outside world blows around my legs.

  The glow from the surrounding buildings settles like a flood on the street, and I can’t help but wonder what the others are doing right now. Is Natural experiencing this festival and getting to know the world of Ghost-type Pokémon better? Is Lillie spending this time with Guzma and Lusamine? Is Gladion perhaps coming home for this?

  I’m sure they’re all having a good time right now, while most Team Plasma members are rotting in jail and Ghetsis is hopefully freezing his ass off out there somewhere.

  “Maybe we should ... dedicate ourselves to better things.” In the end, it’s Conia who pulls me out of my thoughts, so I turn to face her. Her gaze wanders indecisively back and forth between me and Amethio. The latter has his arms crossed in front of his chest, as if he’s trying to hold back every sharp word on his tongue.

  And she’s right. We should finally turn our attention to the things we’ve been tinkering with for the last few days. Not only to introduce Amethio to some horror but also to a festival whose meaning has long since been lost in many places, yet still retains a certain charm. So I nod to her before bridging the distance, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him along.

  “We should eat something! Zir baked biscuits, and Conia put a lot of effort into the dishes. I did the decorations and sweets.” Instead of letting him speak, I list our efforts. So rather than fighting back, I earn a little trust that stops him from tearing himself free.

  He doesn't attempt to escape until we reach our conference room, and when I open the door to push him inside, it’s the sweet smell of ripe fruit, drinks, and biscuits hitting us. There’s barely a hint of gingerbread left.

  The eerie atmosphere in this semi-dark room, lit by an orange-coloured glow, seems almost romantic in combination with the flickering candlelight. Instantly, my gaze glides to my partner, and although nothing has changed in his facial expression, I believe I recognise a hint of warmth in his eyes. A tiny part of him is perhaps enjoying this moment and the fact we’re going to spend tonight together as if there isn’t a care in the world.

  But as beautiful as it is, I’m mostly glad that none of the Pokémon here have set anything on fire. As soon as I take my attention off Amethio, it drifts to Raya, who is now curled up on the sofa, dozing. Mirra pushes through my legs towards the table, Lum follows her in leisurely steps, and Ying nibbles on a biscuit. The two Skarmory are resting together in a dark corner, while Golduck and Rhydon have a low-key argument about one of Conia’s dishes.

  Eventually, my hand slides down Amethio’s joint a little until I can grasp his fingers and pull him towards the table. If I let go of him now, he’ll probably get stuck at the entrance or turn around and go back to his duties.

  “You need to try Zir’s biscuits. They’re tasty!” I try to start a conversation once again.

  The other two I only notice out of the corner of my eye. They’re scrutinising us, waiting, testing the mood. Only when Amethio grabs one biscuit and bites off a corner does the tension seem to ease.

  He neither confirms he likes the pastry nor that he doesn’t. He simply nibbles on it, and that’s enough for now. No rejection, no rebuke. He accepts his circumstance, and although he barely shows any emotion, some of the harshness he usually carries around with him seems missing. It’s one of those seconds where I think I see something soft underneath his stubborn exterior – the boy who reassured me I have a place here too; who breathed the entire universe with me on the submarine; who was there for me when I wanted to share all my baggage with someone.

  Here and now, he is someone who has a goal in mind, doesn’t think much of interpersonal conversations, and yet appreciates the warmth of small moments. It’s this side of him that reminds me he too has flaws and sometimes gets trapped. A touch of personality that makes him endearing.

  I don’t want to let go of his hand. A bit like when he collapsed during his Pokémon training. But compared to then, the warmth under his glove isn’t damp. He’s not suffering; he’s not at the end of his rope or on the verge of falling to his knees because he’s overdone it again. Instead, he lets me hold him. Longer than necessary.

  Letting him go is the only right decision. I can’t hold his hand forever, not least because in the end we’re nothing more than a team. In theory, he is my superior, even if he is far from feeling like one. And even if that weren’t the case, we don’t know each other well enough to be more than acquaintances.

  My fingers feel stiff as I loosen my grip and finally let him go. It’s time to put some distance between us and treat my swollen hand before I catch some pumpkin disease that probably doesn’t even exist. Anything is fine with me as long as it’s something that takes my mind off things.

  But just as I raise my eyes to tell Amethio about it, the violet colour of his eyes mesmerises me. My mouth opens, but every word dies on my tongue. I can’t help but look at him, analyse his expression, and find no suitable thought to explain what’s going through his head right now. His lips remain tightly closed. Like all the other times we’ve looked at each other without being able to hold a conversation. A bit like magic. A bit like we can understand each other without words, although most of the time we can’t even understand each other with them.

  If he had to say something now, what would he throw into this empty, almost bewitched space? Would the orange lights and the smell of pumpkin and biscuits and him and me change anything?

  My eyes fix on his mouth, which still shows no sign of moving and yet seems to want to do something – just like me.

  If I were a little braver, a little less myself, I would lean up to him and plant a kiss on his lips. Without a second thought, even though there’s no reason to do so and my fantasies tend to go too far, anyway.

  And yet, suddenly, it’s all that exists in my head. I want him – Amethio – all to myself. For one breath, I want to be sure my feelings have a chance, and I might be allowed to get involved with the Butterfrees in my stomach. My body moves closer to him, ready to try it. Once again, my fingers tighten around his hand – as if I have never let go of it.

  But before I can go up on my toes, he turns his head away. The magic breaks, eye contact ceases, and all I’m left with is his mop of hair, from under which an ear peeks out, shimmering reddish in the orange glow. Maybe it’s the heat here. The same heat that makes him pull away from my grip and cut our last connection.

  Now is the time to say something halfway clever, to pull back, and treat my injury reasonably well. But the rumbling in my chest won’t allow me to escape. My body lingers in place, my legs no longer move, and although I have no right to do so, I want to protest. I want to ask him why he turns away whenever the magic between us seems so present and real; I want to find out if it’s me or him or our surroundings, even the circumstances. All these sentences are ready to find their way to him. Here and now.

  Until he turns to me once more.

  My protest is stifled. Everything about him seems soft, thoughtful, somehow lost in his own world, as if he is trying to make sense of this moment. Going any further than necessary now would cause me nothing but problems.

  So I smile at him and tilt my head. “And ... have you realised you might get something out of this ‘waste of time’ after all?”

  The twitch of the corner of his mouth doesn’t escape me as he looks over the set table and then over to Zir and Conia, who are fully immersed in their world of cooking and baking.

  “Maybe,” he then replies.

  And that’s plenty for tonight.