//-------------------------------------------------------//
           Magic Books, Runes, and a Little Hope           
                -by Ghostwriter_the_Scribe-                
//-------------------------------------------------------//
//-------------------------------------------------------//
                    Ghost of Canterlot                     
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Ghost of Canterlot
Magic Books, Runes, and a Little Hope
Chapter One: The Ghost of Canterlot
The robed pony raised an eye at the banner hanging over the grand chamber.
‘Artist Recognition Party,’ it read in large gold letters.
It was clear to the blue-robed pony that this was not a party in the normal sense of the word. While those of normal upbringing thought of parties as events with loud music, junk food, dancing, and general fun this party was an event with classical music, hors d’oeuvres, and showing off. This was not a party for normal ponies, ponies of the lower or middle class; this was a party for the upper echelon of Canterlot, an event of sophistication, of class.
Of snobs who feel they’re better than anyone else, the pony thought with a snort.
He sat alone at a table in the corner of the room. The party was taking place in the art wing of the Canterlot Museum. Statues that had once been positioned in the center of the large room had been moved to make way for tables covered by bright red cloth. In the center of the room was a long table stacked with treats and a large bowl of punch. While most of the refreshments where things like cucumber sandwiches and other hors d’oeuvres, there were a few plates of cupcakes and cookies. Paintings done in various styles hung from the walls. At the back of the room was a section called ‘Local Talent’. The section currently had one painting which was lit by small spotlights.
The pony adjusted his pince-nez glasses as his light grey eyes glanced to the party guests. At a table not far to his left, he noticed five ponies in blue blazers and dresses. Three tables over were a group of mares wearing floral hats and rolling their eyes at the blue-clothed ponies.
The pony shook his head. They even consider themselves above those considered their equals.
He grumbled as he noticed several of the floral hat mares pointing at him and giggling.
“Act like I’m blind,” he growled. “So I’m throwing another soiree,” he said, his voice becoming low and nasally. “What should I do for entertainment?” Another imitation, this time high pitched and obnoxious. “I know! Invite Ghostwriter. He’s so weird. It will look good for you and we can make fun of him behind his back. He’ll never notice.”
With a roll of his eyes and a snort, he returned his voice to normal pitch. “Please, Princess Luna using her royal voice is quieter than you pompous jerks,” he said softly, before shaking his head fiercely.
Don’t be like that, Ghost, echoed a voice in his head.
Ghostwriter glanced at a cupcake that sat in the center of the table. Its red frosting gleamed in the lighting and a small fox-tail decoration sat on top.
Be more positive, the voice said.
Hard not to be cynical when you’ve been the but of the joke for a year.
Ghost, the voice reprimanded.
With an internal sigh, he responded. No, no. You’re right, Flare. He glanced back at the party. Just because some of them are pompous, self-important jerks, doesn't mean they all are.
He turned his head to look at a group of nobles at the other side of the room. Most of them are probably just afraid of being chewed up and spit out by their social groups.  He shrugged. I can hope one of them gets over it.
That’s the spirit, Ghost, the voice yipped. Yah just gotta be opta… optami… optami—
Optimistic? Ghost asked with a smirk.
Yeah. Be optimistic!
Ghost chuckled. Yeah, you’re right. He let a small smile form. Like my dad always said ‘a little hope will get you far.’
“Evening, Ghostwriter.”
Ghost turned in the direction of the voice.
The voice, very similar to the male voice Ghost had been imitating, belonged to a yellow stallion. He wore a grey dress shirt with pearl cufflinks and his brown mane was slicked back. Not a hair was out of place. Seemed to Ghost that this stallion spent a lot of time on his appearance. The pearl cufflinks signified nobility.
And then fate decides to bury my hope in the deepest, darkest hole it can find, he thought.
Ghost… Flare warned.
Sorry, sorry. He shook his head. Hope and optimism, right?
“It’s certainly been awhile, hasn’t it?” the stallion said with a smile.
“Uh, yeah,” Ghost mumbled, turning his eyes to his book. “It has, I guess.” Especially since I can’t remember meeting you in the first place.
“Last time I saw you, you were telling my compatriots and I a rather tall tale.” The stallion chuckled.
Ah, now I remember,’Ghost inwardly sighed. You’re one of the nobles who laughed at me for believing in the kelpie legend.
The stallion put a hoof to his chin as he raised an eyebrow and a small smirk toyed at his lips. “It was about some creature from the north. What was it called again? Kerpie? Koopie?”
“Kelpie,” Ghost corrected.
“That’s it,” the stallion said, stamping his hoof. “How exactly did it go again?”
Ghost’s eyebrow rose. Does he really want to hear it, or does he just want something to laugh about.’
He scanned the stallion’s face, looking for traces of deceit. A confident smile and bright eyes were all he could see. Overall, Ghost thought he looked genuine and relented.
“The Kelpie is a creature of legend,” Ghost began. “It comes from a large island far to the northwest. The legend states that on some nights traveling ponies would meet a strange pony pulling a large, attractive carriage. This pony is said to have an all black coat and mane. The black pony will offer rides to the travelers. If the travelers sit in the carriage, it becomes adhesive. The dark pony suddenly morphs, growing to monstrous size,” he said raising his hooves to try and indicate the size. “and gaining large sharp teeth. It then charges, off dragging the carriage into the nearest lake, where it then eats the pony, leaving nothing but the liver.”
The stallion was silent. His mouth twitched. A hoof was brought to his mouth, stifling a snort. Within seconds the snorts erupted into bouts of full blown laughter.
Ghost rolled his eyes. “Yeah, should have seen that coming.”
The stallion wiped his eyes. “Oh, come now, Ghostwriter. You can’t honestly believe that story?”
“Never underestimate a legend,” Ghost said with a glare. “You never know what parts of a legend could be true.”
“Those are just myths, stories told to foals to get them to behave.”
“Nightmare Moon was just a myth, the elements of Harmony were just a myth,” he said, pointing at the stallion. “And those ended up being true.”
The stallion snorted. “Really, Ghostwriter, you simply must get your head out of the clouds.”
Ghost grumbled as the stallion walked away. “What’s wrong with having your head in the clouds?” he mumbled. “I mean, pegasi do it all the time.” He chuckled shortly before frowning. “Yeah, not my best joke.”
I liked it, Flare giggled.
Ghost shook his grey head before pulling his hood over his shaggy, brown mane. His eyes dropped to the large, leather-bound book that sat on the table. He scanned the book, frowning while levitating a scroll and quill to his right.
Watcha working on, Ghost? Flare asked.
Ghost scribbled a note on his scroll with a frown. I’m going over some of the legends we heard in Zebrica. The whole rhyme speak of that culture, not to mention you can’t exactly tell the story teller to slow down, leads to some awkward phrases, he thought, his eyes scanning more lines. It’s been slow going but I’ve been able to figure out some of these phrases in relation to the core of the legend. He stopped writing and tapped the quill against his cheek. Come to think of it, we should head back there someday. Probably a good bunch of legends we missed first time around.
No caves this time, Flare whimpered. We barely got out.
We never did figure out what that tunnel beast was, he thought with a raised brow.
And I don’t wanna know, Flare said, a slight stutter to his voice. I thought you left me behind.
Oh, Flare. I’d never leave you behind to save my own skin. He smiled at the cupcake. There were two things that were pounded into my head as a kid; protect what you care about and never abandon family.
So which am I?
He smirked and returned to his work. Take your pick. Both are applicable.
“Good evening, Ghostwriter.”
Ghost looked to his right with a small surprised jump. His eyes widened slightly and a nervous smile spread to his lips.
“E-evening, P-princess Celestia,” he stuttered, coughing slightly before removing his hood. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said with a smile. “Though, these parties are more of my sister’s interest.”
“Is she here?” he asked.
“We declare this painting a masterpiece!” Princess Luna bellowed. Though she stood at the back near the painting, her voice bounded off the walls, shaking the paintings, rocking the tables, and causing many occupants to cringe.
Ghost chuckled. “Well, that answers that.”
Celestia put a hoof to her mouth to suppress a giggle. “What do you think of the painting, Ghostwriter?”
Ghost looked over to the painting in question. It was a painted picture of a sunrise over a hidden forest lake. As the sun peeked over trees painted in many hues of green, rays of sunlight bounced off the lake. A hazy reflection of the sun and trees could be seen in the gentle waves, where small fish could be picked out in the depths. He smiled as he noticed a small tent set up on the right shore. A small easel was set up with a small paintbrush swirling a rainbow of colors painted on its canvas.
“It’s Paint’s work,” he said with a shrug. “Family opinions are always biased.” His smile slowly faded as his eyes went downcast.
Celestia put a hoof on his shoulder. “Paintswirl will return someday, Ghostwriter,” she said, eyes softening.
Ghost sighed. “And she’ll probably still hate me.” He shook his head fiercely. “Anyway, it’s great that she got her work into the museum’s art wing. She definitely deserves it.”
Celestia nodded and looked at him with questioning eyes. “Why are you by yourself, Ghostwriter?”
He glared at the partygoers. “All I am is entertainment to them. I have yet to meet one that doesn't fake any interest in the things I say. I’m just an oddity they can laugh at,” he grumbled. “Why do they keep inviting me to these things?”
“It is your sister’s painting they are celebrating,” she said.
He turned back to her, no longer sporting a glare yet maintaining a frown. “And if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be here.” Ghost turned his attention back to the party-goers. “They treat my position like royalty, but treat me like an outsider. I figured that after a year, I’d get a little respect for what I do.” His eyes widened before he looked down to the floor. “Uh, excuse me, Princess,” he said softly. “Paint always said I get too personal in conversation.”
Celestia smiled. “It’s alright, Ghostwriter. I want all of my little ponies to be able to talk to me.”
“Still, Paint told me I need to be respectful around royalty,” he chuckled as he rubbed his neck. “Complaining about my job isn’t exactly respectful.” Looking up at the party, he raised a brow. “I just don’t get it though. What’s so important about my job anyway? I’m just a scribe.”
“A scribe to two princesses,” she said, her smile softening. “A position that requires skill.”
Ghost looked at the floor again. “I was also the only applicant. It just seems like a simple job, hardly worth the praise.” He turned to the princess. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. But to me, it’s just a job that needed to be done so I stepped up.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I finished that treaty you wanted.”
Celestia nodded. “I will pick it up later. But tonight is not about work. Enjoy yourself. You haven’t even touched your cupcake.”
He turned towards the vanilla cupcake placed in the center of the table and smirked.
“I wish I could. I could use the sugar,” he chuckled. “But it’s not a cupcake, it’s Flare, and I don’t feel like being set on fire.”
The cupcake suddenly started to move, hopping forward onto Ghost’s book.
“Why did you tell her, Ghost?” whined the cupcake. “I could have pranked a princess. Kitsunes dream of that.”
Ghost raised a brow. “And how were you going to do that as a cupcake?”
“I was gonna jump up and say ‘Boo!’”
Ghost’s hoof found its way to his forehead. “You know, for a trickster spirit, that's kind of lame. Aren’t the kitsunes of Tarpan supposed to have, I don’t know, more elaborate pranks?”
The cupcake drooped. “I didn’t have much time to plan.”
“Whatever you say, Flare.” Ghost frowned. “Now move, you’re getting crumbs and frosting on my travel journal.”
Celestia let out a chuckle. “Evening, Flare.”
Flare hopped around to face her. “Hi, Princess!”
“Your powers never cease to amaze me,” she said.
“And they never cease to annoy me,” Ghost said, propping his head on his hoof with a small smile.
I need to get these trimmed,he thought as his eyes looked at the light gray feathering around his hoof. He turned back to the cupcake and spoke. “Will you please desist being a cupcake? You’re making me hungry.”
Flare let out a chuckle as his form became hazy, beginning to waver and reshape itself. Soon, the cupcake transformed into a small crimson fox wearing a blue scarf with two tails that alternately waved up and down.
Flare smiled. “Better watch out, Princess. I’ll prank you one day.”
Ghost rolled his eyes. “And on that day, the guards will turn you into a fox fur scarf.”
Flare turned up his nose. “They’d have to catch me first.”
Celestia chuckled. “Maybe one day, Flare.”
“Princess?” came a call from behind her.
Celestia turned to see a noble trying to get her attention.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Ghostwriter,” she said with an apologetic smile on her lips. “I have other duties to attend to.”
“No problem,” he said, nodding. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Try and have fun, Ghostwriter,” Celestia said as she walked away.
“I’ll try, but it’s unlikely,” he mumbled to himself.
He returned his attention to his book, resuming work as Flare lay down on the table. The young kitsune let out a bored yawn as he lay his head on his paws. Ghost scanned a line but suddenly froze, his body stiffening. Glancing up, he noticed several ponies staring at him, whispering to their partners and neighbors.
He groaned. And they’re staring. Of course. I really hate it when they do that.
Quickly flipping his hood up, he tried to return to his reading, but he could sense the persistent stares. He growled slightly before slamming the book shut.
“We’re taking a walk, Flare,” he said softly, packing the book and scroll in his saddlebag. As he stood up and moved away from the table, Flare jumped onto his back.
***
Ghost let out a deep breath while he walked through the museum. The white marble halls were empty and quiet, save for the echoes of his hoofsteps. He kept his eyes on the ground, his body loose as he studied the black and white floor tiles.
“Where are we going, Ghost?” Flare yawned.
Ghost lifted his head and looked around, finally taking stock of his location. His eyes were drawn to a large sign overhead reading History Wing. He smiled as he turned to his left and walked through the wing’s arched entrance.
Ducking under red velvet ropes, he worked his way towards a set of exhibits called ‘Old World Culture’. He wasn’t worried about being discovered. The museum had powerful spells lining the archways, as well as on the artifacts themselves, that would sense the intent of intruders.
Ghost took a deep breath as he entered the room housing the exhibits. The white walls and floor tiles reflected the moonlight that filtered through the windowed roof. He sighed in content.
“Ah, the smell of history,” he said, his eyes alight. “Is there anything better?”
“Cake?” Flare asked, jumping off his back.
Ghost rolled his eyes. “Paint took me here every weekend when I was little,” he said as his smile faltered. “We didn’t have much money, but the museum had free admission on weekends. Must have read every exhibit a hundred times. No wonder I like history so much.” Ghost shook his head before turning to Flare. “Come on.”
The Old World Culture exhibit was not as expansive as other exhibits. Equestria’s history and cultures were well-documented even before the Pony Sisters’ reign. As such, most of the exhibits were foreign objects with mere speculation as to what they were for, except for one.
Ghost walked toward the center case, which held a large, leather book with an ornate cover. He stopped in front of the case. With a frown, he shifted his weight, nervously scanning the room. His frown twisted into a small smirk before he quickly pulled a small key out of a secret pocket of his saddlebag and unlocked the case. Taking the book in his hooves, Ghost let out a sigh. While his eyes stared at the cover, his mind was in the past.
“Can you believe it’s been three years?” he said quietly, more to himself than to Flare. “Three years since I took my journey and found this book.”
“Two years since you found me,” Flare said cheerfully.
Ghost nodded, his eyes still focused on the book. “Man, I was stupid back then,” he said, shaking his head. “I was barely a colt when I set out. There were several times I thought I wouldn’t make it.” He chuckled. “Just got lucky, I guess.” He turned to Flare with a warm smile. “Still, I met you and found the Rune Guide. All and all, not too shabby.”
Flare smiled back. Suddenly, his ears shifted, his body crouched low to the ground. He let out a growl as he raised his nose to the air.
Ghost glared into the darkness ahead. “What is it, Flare?”
Flare continued to sniff the air. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. “Ghost, look out!”
Ghost and Flare tried to jump back as the case exploded, sending pieces of metal, glass and stone in all directions and knocking the duo away. Flare flipped in midair, landing on his paws low to the ground, teeth bared. Ghost clutched the book to his chest as he hit the ground and slid across the tile floor, coming to a stop with a grunt. Groaning as he hurried to his hooves, he slipped the Rune Guide into his bag.
“You know, I must tell you, you got lucky,” called a figure in the darkness. As it emerged, it grinned, an act that made Ghost shudder. “I don’t usually miss.”
Ghost let out a gasp. “You.”
The newcomer chuckled. “Me?” he said, putting a hoof to his armored chest. “What does a simple colt know about me?” His grey eyes stared at Ghostwriter mirthfully.
“I know a lot more than I want to.” Ghost gulped.
The dark brown unicorn chuckled as he ran a hoof past his grey mohawk. “Pray tell, who am I?”
“Conceited, aren't we?” Ghost said, shaking on the inside. “Very well. You’re Phantom the Spell Thief, born Spell Cutter,” he announced as his eyes narrowed at the thief. “A former royal guard who was dishonorably discharged and wanted for the theft of several magical artifacts and stealing the magic talent of many unicorns.” Ghost quoted Phantom’s wanted poster, which he knew very well considering he wrote it himself.
Phantom’s hoof traced the vertical scar that ran down the side of his neck. “Ah, yes. Good times.” He chuckled, a sound that seemed to slither through the air into Ghost’s ears. “You never forget your first time.” He took a step forward while charging his magic, causing Ghost and Flare to step back. “Now, this has been a fun trip down memory lane, but I need you to give me that book.”
Ghost took a step back. He crouched, anticipating a strike.
Phantom sighed. “Come now, you have already complicated things by being here to begin with. I’m losing my patience.”
Flare, run and get the Princesses, Ghost thought, his eyes focused on Phantom.
What? echoed Flare’s alarmed voice in his head. Ghost, I can’t just leave you here. This guy reeks of blood.
It’s okay, Flare. I’ll be fine, Ghost thought. But someone needs to warn the Princesses. Now go, I’ll cover you.
Flare growled. Jumping back, he ran towards the exit.
“Not so fast!” Phantom yelled as he launched a bolt of magic at Flare’s retreating form.
Ghost jumped in the way with a glowing sheet of paper held in front of him. The bolt slammed into the gray bubble that formed around him, scattering across it.
God, I love rune magic,’Ghost thought, his heart hammering in his chest.
Phantom smirked. “Well that’s certainly an interesting trick.” His magic drew a chipped and scratched sword from the sheath on his saddlebag. “So, tell me, colt.” He chuckled as Ghost eyed the sword glinting in the moonlight “What’s the driving force behind this? Is it bravery or stupidity?”
Little of both, I guess, Ghost thought with a gulp. As he readied himself, a single thought ran through his mind.
This is going to be anything but easy.
Author's Note
Just working on my writing skills so reviews would be appreciated.
As a side note, whether you believe me or not I created Ghostwriter before I adopted it as my name. This is in no way meant to be a self insert.
Thanks for reading
Signed,  
Cody The Kirby a.k.a Ghostwriter The Scribe.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                    Ghosts and Phantoms                    
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Ghosts and Phantoms
Magic Books, Runes, and a Little Hope
Chapter Two: Ghosts and Phantoms
Am I completely daft? Ghostwriter internally screamed. He ducked as a ball of fire skimmed over his head, singeing his mane. Jumping to his hooves, he dashed forward, just as a blast of lightning zipped by, causing his fur stand on end.
No, Ghost, this was a great idea, he thought sarcastically, I mean, taking on a known killer when you have little combat experience, what a stroke of genius!
Ghost skidded to a stop as a large spire of rock rose in front of him. He gulped as he looked right toward a grinning Phantom.
“I must say,” he said as his horn sparked with red light, “if nothing else, you’re rather adept at dodging.” With a swing of his head, a bolt of lightning shot forward.
Ghost quickly pulled a sheet of paper with a circular symbol out of his bag. The circular symbol glowed brown and he slammed it on the floor.
“Oh, what a neat little trick.” He heard Phantom say from behind the rock wall. Ghost frowned as he panted.
I’ve spent 3 years of my life basically running from creatures that I’ve ticked off and five minutes of scrambling around tires me out, he thought sourly. My only saving grace in this fight is my runes. A glance to his bag brought a smirk to his face. And it just so happens those are my speciality.
Suddenly, another spire of rock rose to Ghost’s right. Before he could move, more rock spires rose up around him, trapping him in a cage. Through a small gap between the spires, he peered out at his opponent.
“Do you like your new fort?” Phantom chuckled and summoned a ball of red light. “I promise it will be a blast.”
Ghost rolled his eyes. He quickly pulled two runes out of his pack. Folding one into a paper glider, he pitched it over the wall and put the other one on the floor. His horn glowed light blue as he touched it to the rune on the floor. The symbol glowed, opening a portal. Ghost could see the ceiling on the other side. Wasting no time, he jumped through just as Phantom tossed the ball over the wall. Ghost covered his ears as he hit the ground, feeling the explosion shake the room and bits of debris rain down on him. He jumped to his hooves, glaring at a surprised-looking Phantom.
“Well, well, well, you’re certainly full of surprises,” Phantom said with a smirk. “So you must be the colt that mastered rune magic.” He laughed. “Runes definitely have their uses, but their rather inferior to regular magic.”
“Then why do you want the Rune Guide if it’s so inferior?” Ghost asked. Gotta keep him talking, give Flare more time, he thought.
“Well, it’s quite simple,” Phantom said. He narrowed his eyes and smiled, an action that made Ghost involuntarily glup. “It’s a form of magic I don’t have, and that just won’t do.” He laughed, making Ghost shudder. “Now then,” he continued, starting to circle Ghost. “Since you seem to have no intention of backing down, be sure to give me some fun before you die.”
So he’s conceited and cocky, Ghost thought as he kept his eyes on Phantom.
Phantom dashed forward, slashing his sword horizontally. Ghost jumped back to dodge the slice, then rolled left to avoid a vertical slash. Phantom readied another swing.
Ghost’s eyes widened. Foxtrot! I can’t dodge. His eyes narrowed. Then I’ll block. Fueled by adrenaline, Ghost quickly raised an object to his defense.
The sound of steel clashing with steel reverberated through the room. Phantom’s eyes grew wide as his sword clashed with a book sporting an armored spine.
“What?” he growled.
Ghost smirked. And ponies called me stupid for putting steel on the spine of my travel journal.
He pushed back Phantom’s sword and slid left. As Phantom pushed back, Ghost moved his book slightly left. The sound of scratching metal covered up Phantom’s curse as he stumbled forward. Quickly dashing past him, Ghost delivered a solid strike to the back of Phantom’s head while gaining some distance.
Phantom growled. “Now you’re starting to tick me off.”
Ghost chuckled, a small, tentative smirk on his face. “You’re not the first to tell me that.”
Phantom quickly fired a blast of magic. Ghost hurriedly rolled to his left while simultaneously folding a rune into a glider.
“Try this!” he cried, chucking the paper plane at the thief.
Phantom crouched in preparation to dodge, but the plane landed harmlessly in front of him.
An awkward second passed before he snickered. “Was that supposed to do something?”
Just my luck, Ghost growled internally.
Phantom laughed as he picked up the plane in his hoof. “Rather pathetic, colt, rather—” Suddenly the plane lit up and exploded. Phantom flew back and slid across the ground.
Ghost raised an eyebrow. He looked at another rune, the same as the one he had just thrown. Oh, I accidentally grabbed the one with twenty second fuses.
Phantom growled as he stood up. “Full of surprises, indeed.” He smiled, grinding his teeth together as his horn sparked. “Well, so am I!”
Ghost cried as he jumped out of the ring of fire that erupted under his hooves. He quickly took stock of his now singed feathering.
Well, I did say I needed them trimmed, he thought.
Phantom dashed forward with intent to cut his head off. He raised his book to meet the sword. With a grunt, he pushed back, yet Phantom held his ground.
A growl sounded from his throat while runes flew from his bags. They quickly surrounded the clashing pair and folded into paper airplanes, held aloft by Ghost’s magic.
Phantom glanced around and pushed harder. With a grin, Ghost willed the runes to strike. Suddenly, Ghost felt his hold on the book slip. Phantom twisted his sword and flung the book far to the left. Ghost tried to finish activating the runes, but Phantom slammed the pummel of his blade between Ghost’s eyes. The floating runes dropped harmlessly to the floor. Phantom swung his head down, summoning a shock wave that knocked Ghost backwards.
Ghost hit the ground and bounced. He gritted his teeth as he felt himself collide with the floor two more times before sliding to a stop. A groan escaped his throat as he struggled to his hooves, his ears ringing and the beginnings of a splitting headache forming.
Okay, little more painful than I anticipated, he thought, clenching his eyes closed. But all according to plan. He inwardly laughed.
“Your little magic pictures are ticking me off, colt,” Phantom growled. “But it seems you’re not much use without them.”
Ten seconds, he timed. Keep him talking.
“Hey, Phantom,” Ghost said rubbing his head. “You ever heard the phrase ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’?” Fourteen seconds.
“What,” Phantom asked with a raised brow. “What are you on about, colt?”
“Well, the same is true for runes,” Ghost said as a wide grin formed on his face. Seventeen seconds! “ Problem is these runes only know the word ‘Boom’!”
Twenty seconds!
Phantom’s eyes widened as the paper planes around him began to glow.
***
Flare ran through the Museum’s halls, the only sound heard being his own breathing and the pounding of his paws on tile. He had his mission and he wasn’t going to fail, but there was one problem.
I can’t remember the way back! he thought.
Tears stung his eyes as his fear-fueled imagination conjured pictures of Ghost, bloody and broken. Phantom had scared the twin-tail more than anything he and Ghost had ever encountered. No creature, especially a normally peaceful pony, should smell of that much blood.
Flare skidded to a stop and glanced around, desperately looking for something to guide him back to the party. He sniffed as he began running again.
Being two-hundred years old, Flare had seen and experienced a lot in his life. However, by kitsune standards he was only two. His greatest fear in life was losing the ones he cared about, and if he didn’t find a way back he faced the possibility of losing his big brother.
He sniffed again, this time a scent wresting him away from his thoughts.
“Wait,” he mumbled as he stopped. More sniffs confirmed his suspicions. “I smell cookies.” His eyes widened. “The party! I can follow the scent to the party.”
Just as he was about to dash off, his sensitive ears picked up a soft boom. His heart froze.
“Did he?” he gasped. A tense second passed as he stood stock still. He soon sighed. “No, I can still sense Ghost.”
Narrowing his eyes, he wiped the tears from his face before dashing towards the scent of sweets. “Hold on, Ghost! I don’t want you to die.”
Within seconds, Flare was starting to recognize his surroundings.
“Yes,” he cried as he rounded the corner. Then his heart stopped. “No,” he cried. “No, no, no!” Before him was the entrance to the art wing, but the large door was closed. His tears returned as he desperately scratched at the door, his cries of distress dissolving into yips and barks. “No,” he growled. “I’m not giving up now.”
Backing away from the door, Flare lifted his two tails. He growled as two blue flames formed on their tips. Lunging towards the door, he performed a quick frontflip. The two azure flames shot at the door, leaving a charred hole which he jumped through.
Alright, he told himself. Just got to find one of the princesses.
Barely registering the party occupants’ surprise, he looked around frantically. Between his own panic and teary eyes, he failed to notice he was on a collision course.
“Flare?”
The fox picked himself up and turned to the speaker. Noticing the star-studded mane and concerned blue eyes, he put his front paws on Luna’s leg.
“Princess!” he cried. His eyes were wide as tears freely flowed from his eyes and his mouth quivered. He was practically sobbing as he tried to talk.
“Princess, me and Ghost were with the Rune Guide and then Ghost pulled it out and then the case exploded and this strange pony appeared and he smelled like blood and Ghost sent me here to get help and I can’t tell if he’s alive and I’m scared!”
“Easy, little one,” Luna cooed. “I can’t understand you.”
As Flare tried to speak his words dissolved into terrified yips, his mind no longer able to distinguish the difference.
Celestia walked up beside her sister. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” Luna said with a frown. “Flare, you need to calm yourself.”
Just as Flare was about to try and talk again, a large explosion rocked the building, shaking paintings and light fixtures and even knocking a few ponies off their hooves.
Flare turned towards the source of the explosion and let loose a loud, sorrowful wail.
The pony sisters, with narrowed eyes, nodded to each other.
“Flare,” Celestia said sternly, “Take us to Ghostwriter.”
***
Ghost let out an audible groan as small stones showered his body.
“That was painful,” he voiced as he struggled to his feet. “and not my best idea.” He stumbled slightly before shaking his head. “Well, never let it be said I can be dissuaded from a bad idea.”
With one eye closed in pain, he walked towards the giant crater. Please have worked, please, please have worked.
He gulped as he stared into the hole in the room. Smoke and dust obscured his view. His body was tense, his mouth dry, his legs shaking.
The smoke cleared revealing an empty crater.
“Wha,” Ghost whispered with raised brow. “Did... Did I get ‘em?”
“Not quite.”
His eyes widened. The sound of steel slicing through air met his ears as he jumped to his right. A sharp pain erupted from his side with the sound of Phantom’s sword tearing through cloth and flesh. Ghost hit the ground on the side, his teeth clenched as pain momentarily left him speechless.
“Good show, Colt,” Phantom said as he walked towards the downed scribe. “But sorry to say you missed.”
That was at least twenty blast runes, Ghost thought angrily. How did I miss?
Through clenched teeth, Ghost struggled to his feet. He cried out in pain as Phantom kicked him in his now injured side, knocking him back to the floor. The spell thief slammed a hoof onto the side of Ghost’s head. Keeping him pinned, Phantom chuckled as he wiped the blood off his sword with Ghost’s shredded robe.
“This was certainly entertaining, but you have to face facts.” He leaned in close to Ghost’s ear. “You never stood a chance against me.”
Ghost let out a growl.
“Now, let’s see,” Phantom said as he opened Ghost bag. “Ah, here we go.” Sheathing his sword, he pulled the book out with his magic and flipped through it. “Quite extensive, isn’t it?”
“I won’t let you have it,” Ghost growled.
“Well, good thing I’m not asking you,” he said with a chuckle. His horn sparked. “Now, how would you like to go, burned to death, electrocuted, maybe frozen?” he asked with a smile that made Ghost sick.
I’m out of runes, there’s a giant gash in my side, Phantom has the Rune Guide, and is pinning me to the ground. Ghost thought. I’m about to die, aren’t I?
“Oh, I know,” Phantom laughed. His voice dropped low as his horn glowed brighter. “How about I keep it a surprise.”
This is it, Ghost inwardly sighed. I’m sorry, Flare. I’m sorry, Paint, for everything. I’m sorry, Dad... I failed.
With those thoughts, he closed his eyes. He waited, waited for the magic induced end Phantom promised.