"I can't do it," Amy sobbed into the phone. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared out the window on to Hearthome City. Only the tops of the buildings were visible from her seated position, their figures blurred due to her puffy eyes. She sniffed and repeated herself, "I can't just kill my own mother."

She heard her husband sign on the other end of the call; his voice was tired and strained. "Honey, I know this is hard for you, but you can't just let her continue on like this. She's been in a coma for, what, a month and a half now? And the doctors just said that she is officially brain dead. As hard as it is to admit, it's time."

Amy's head throbbed from dehydration and the stressful situation. It had been a long day of debating back and forth. Amy's conscience told her it was wrong to end her mom's life, but something in the back of her mind—logic imparted by the doctors—told her that enough was enough. Arceus, guide me on what to do, she prayed.

She placed the phone to her ear again, finally making up her mind after her simple prayer. "I need the night to think on this. I'm going to the Foreign Building, I'll be back here tomorrow to make the final decision. Then I'm coming home." She began to gather up her things when she heard her husband's voice over the phone again.

"Hey," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Amy asked.

"I love you, and you will make the right decision. I know you will."

Amy smiled bittersweetly. "Thanks, I love you too."

-----

The Foreign Building was just that: foreign. Its structure was unique compared to the other buildings around it, and the inside was just as special. The elaborate stained glass told a story as visitors marched forward to the front of the sanctuary. Faint light from the sunset lit up the windows just enough so that Amy could see the legends they told. The first window was Arceus with a gleaming orange ball raised above its head. From it, the world seemed to explode onto the rest of the display.

The next window depicted Dialga and Palkia. Their tails intertwined to fuse at the tips; from that union, galaxies swirled out and timelines were formed. The patterns continued up the entirety of the glass. Time and space were one entity despite being represented by two Pokemon

The final pane was somber, reminding those that walked down the sanctuary of the inevitable: death. The window featured Giratina, a figure that was destruction—that's what Amy 's mother had taught her. "One day, I too will die and join the cosmic energy. Giratina wanted to harness this energy for selfish reasons, but Arceus wouldn't allow such a thing; he banished Giratina to the distortion world. That energy is sacred as it contains every being that is, was, or will ever be. We come from it, and we return to it. We cannot comprehend such a power, and that is why death terrifies us."

Amy teared up as she recalled her mother's words. She marched to the front of the sanctuary, clutching her purse with quivering hands. She removed her jacket, setting it and her bag gently on the front pew as she grabbed for the box of tissues. She shakily pulled a tissue out of the box and dabbed her eyes.

"Arceus," she began, "It's hard to comprehend what comes after life for us. My mom taught me that lesson when I was younger. I..." she trailed off, needing to wipe her eyes, "I'm scared for her. What if we can't comprehend it because there is nothing there for us?" She was bawling now, soaking up tissue after tissue with her tears. "I can't be the one to send her into the void. I can't be that person."

She sat in silence, sniffling slightly in between prayers; some pleas she said out loud and other she left unsaid. Eventually, she returned to the front pew and gazed at the enormous stained glass hanging as the front. It depicted Mt. Coronet. It was night now, but to Amy, the window looked like it was emanating light. The sensation grew to be overwhelming in the darkened building, and Amy had to squint to continue staring at it.

"This is a dark time for you, I understand," an echoing voice said. "Let us be your guiding light.

"We all come from infinity, and we all must return to infinity," the voice said, its tone struck Amy as a powerful leader. "I designed the world so that this cycle continues forever. Humans and Pokemon alike share this experience, just as I planned it to be. So that one day your kind—mortals, that is—might understand what this was all for."

Amy tried to speak, but found herself rendered incapable next to such an awesome power. "Only listen for now, my child. I know that every single one of your questions shall be answered tonight."

The voice now began again, this time, however, it sounded gruff and harsh. "Time is an endless entity. I have no beginning and I have no end. The only limited time that there is, is the kind that your species has created. You thrive on 'not enough time.' The pressure your kind forces upon itself compels you to fight until your last breaths. It causes you to forget that your spirit will continue on after you die. You will live on and on; just as time itself does."

The voice changed again, this time it flowed over Amy's ears like a stream. "Space, however, is very finite. It is never created or destroyed, only transformed. The space that your mother takes up in your life will be converted to an energy that will keep you going until the end of your life. Every word that she spoke to you will push you forward until you can do the same for your children. Then, you will come to join us in eternity."

The first voice spoke again, "You are like us: endless. You, however, cannot see this with your limited mindset. Hopefully, our words will continue to remind you throughout your life that death is not an end; it is only a beginning. A messenger awaits you outside in the morning sunrise. Let it remind you of what you heard here tonight."

The light disappeared as swiftly as it had come. The bright image faded and left only the morning sun's light to trickle through the windows. Amy jumped up from her seat on the pew, exclaiming, "Crap, I stayed too long." She quickly gathered her stuff in her hands, then marched out the doors and onto the now busy street. Business people were beginning their morning routines.

She zigzagged down the avenues in a rush to get back to the hospital. I shouldn't have left my mother alone, she berated herself mentally. As Amy rounded the corner of the hospital, she collided with something soft. "Floon," the thing cooed at the sudden impact. The Drifloon seemed to smile at Amy while waving one of its tendrils. Its hibiscus flower bow wobbled on top of its head as it moved.

"Sorry about that, run on back to your trainer now, okay?" Amy said to the Pokemon as she shuffled past it. She continued her frantic journey back to the hospital, still not sure what to do about her mother's situation. Neither her prayer or strange dream had helped her come any closer to a decision.

As Amy moved through the automatic doors, she heard a soft humming sound behind her. She looked over her shoulder as she continued moving, only to notice the Drifloon from the street still following her. "Hey, no Pokemon are allowed in here, you need to stop following me. I said I was sorry." She kept moving, ignoring the insistent Pokemon.

However, the creature refused to give up the chase and followed her into the elevator. It clung to her arm as she moved through the ICU to her mother's room. The two arrived at the door, and Amy's heart sank as she noticed doctors shuffling in and out of the room. She overheard words that no person wanted to hear: "Time of death: 7:52 AM." Her mother had left this world only minutes ago.

As Amy watched between the doctor's moving bodies, she caught a glimpse of the flowers on her mother's bedside—a bouquet of hibiscuses. Suddenly, the pieces fit together as she felt Drifloon nudge her arm again, urging her to understand something—Drifloon was her mom's favorite Pokemon. In the back of her mind, she heard the voice from the dream come to her once again. The energy of the universe flows through us all and lets us revisit loved ones. You are never-ending, only transforming after death. Let this messenger from your mom remind you of this.

Now, live.