Setting: On a cold, stormy night, three indescribable Pokemon sit around a small, dying fire. Each of them bears a long, black cloak, while a few Ghostly appendages can be seen hiding out from under them. Their voices are as polished as silver, but as silently sinister as snake-tongue.

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Enter: The Three Ghosts

Froslass: There is one among them. One that can be changed. When shall we discuss this?

*Cackles echo from the second member, seemingly the eldest*

Mismagius: Hush, now! Can you not see they are fighting a war?! Let it go to his head. Then, we will strike.

Misdreavus: Strike? Do we get to make him bleed?

*A bright look adorns the hooded face, easily visible through the gloom. But it is quickly extinguished with an arm extending from Mismagius' robe and broadsiding the smaller Ghost.*

Mismagius: You are no better than her! Hush, now. Or we will disturb the tides of the battle.

Misdreavus: But, what if...

*Mismagius glares at her, causing immediate silence*

Mismagius: We will speak of this again when the battle is over. Now, quickly. Come to me.

*A small stone relinquishes itself from Mismagius' robe, before it slowly vanishes into dust in a sudden, chilling gust of wind. The other two Ghosts' eyes widen.*

Misdreavus/Froslass: You don't mean...

Mismagius: Yes, that's exactly what I mean! Good is seen as evil, and evil is seen as good. Virtues will be upset, and wills will be broken. Come, we have much work to do.

Exeunt: The Three Ghosts