Time

"Salt is very useful for keeping away spirits. Defining a boundary with it will make it unable for a hostile ghost from harming you. This is not a permanent solution, especially when dealing with powerful paranormal beings."

But it is a start, I thought as I put 'Do It Yourself: Exorcisms and Other Charms for the Oblivious' down on the end table in the sitting room that had become my sort-of headquarters. I had even moved my coffee machine in here, which wasn't really needed since I already knew a few coffee making spells.

I began to pour table salt around the edges of the room and on the windowsills, tripping over the occasional coffee cup in the process.

When I was done I plopped onto the sleeping bag I had set up in the corner, kicked off my black boots and levitated both the book and an espresso over, sipping it as I read passages out loud.

"A spirit is classified in relatively simple terms based on origins and powers. Motive also plays a key factor and can influence what they can do. For information on spirits in general please turn to page 55. If you are attempting identify a poltergeist please turn to page 37."

Taking a brief gulp of espresso, I decided to turn to page 37 since it named a specific kind of ghost rather then just 'spirits'.

What I found was something in between a customer survey and a magazine quiz. Lucky for the pony that wrote this, I'm a magazine quiz ace.

"The abilities of this ghost strongly resemble that of a draconequus: Strongly Agree, Agree, Unsure, Disagree, and Strongly Disagree."

I think 'agree' would work best, despite my limited knowledge of draconequui.

"The spirit can induce trances, or other dreamlike states."

Strongly Agree.

"The spirit can manifest in a physical form."

Unsure.

"The ghost can directly influence objects rather then indirectly (i.e. tip over a glass rather then shake the table)."

Hmm...'unsure'.

"The subject can verbally communicate instead of just sending visions."

Yes, I am obviously going to go talk to this thing to find out and share on of my espressos with it. Haha, nope. I'll just put 'agree.'

"The ghost is self-aware."

Most definitely, another 'strongly agree'.

"The subject can directly influence or manipulate living creatures."

Possession? 'Unsure'.

"The spirit manifests realistically as opposed to powerful or surreal incarnations."

Any more questions like this and I'll need to set up cameras.

"The ghost will use repetitive traumatic visuals or effects to get its point across."

A 'strongly agree' once more.

"The spirit appears to be very sane and is able to be reasoned with."

Not at all. 'Strongly Disagree'.

"The subject is organized and does not seem scatterbrained or forgetful."

Why would I want to observe it firsthoof? 'Unsure'.

"Motive of the spirit:"

Oh, a fill in the blank one...what was the reason this thing was haunting me? All it said that I understood was that it hated me. Not very specific there, Ghostie.

But why did it hate me?

I decided to skip over this question and score my results, but not before I grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This paranormal stuff was even frustrating than the magi Sapp'ra and I were working on.

As I levitated the sandwich I scanned the results:

"You definitely have a Poltergeist: a ghost with the ability to manipulate many physical objects, and on higher levels the hauntee's world. Most often falling into three categories: mischievous, mysterious, and vengeful. They often have an object or objects that can influence them and be used to pacify. These spirits are the most capable of interacting with the world they inhabited. If they fall into the latter, more powerful categories the ability to speak should be present. Unlike most spirits salt does not repel them but only increases their power and makes them angry. Instead try the recommended wards on page 42..."

I nearly choked on a glob of chunky peanut butter.

"SALT DOES WHAT NOW?!"

Quickly I dropped  the book and dashed over to the door, planning on getting something to clean up all the salt.

I flung open the door to the dim hall.

"Oh no," I breathed. Everything was replaced with jagged äerint crystals and small patches of darting purple and green fire high above my head.

The door slammed behind me and disappeared,fading into the wall of black crystal.

I knew that Sombra was nowhere near here so this could only mean one thing.

I was stuck in the past with only a sandwich for help.

It felt cold and I saw why: my coat was nearly invisible, I don't think you could even get a proper glimpse of me no matter how hard you focus.

And this time it was I who was the ghost.

...

When Sombra ruled the Crystal Empire I knew that the castle was not the same. I just wasn't sure exactly how different it was. Nothing was even remotely familiar as I hovered through the halls, a transparent spectre clutching an equally see through lunch item. My knees where knocking and I'm sure that if I had still been a physical pony I would have been in a cold sweat as well.

"So you this is all my fault!?"

I stopped as soon as I heard the scream hurtling through the crooked halls.

"No it is not my fault, none of this mess is! It never is! You never said anything about this before so that makes it your fault, you imbecile! You have been the one whose antics have nearly gotten us both killed due to your lack of foresight! Do I really need to bring up the cabbage loaf incident?!"

How funny...it seems like I'm not the only one somewhat angry towards bread today. Even stranger was that the voice sounded somewhat familiar.

Rounding the corner I came to a hallway where a shattered mirror was strewn everywhere and a pony was pacing like mad, äerint crystals gradually sprouting up in random places on the walls, which were already heavy with the stuff.

It was Sombra, a much younger, decently shorter, and skinnier Sombra. He was wearing a scarlet cape with a white trim that was clearly a couple sizes too big. Although he was fairly tall he had to be only about sixteen years old, barely an adult. He looked about the same as well: crimson eyes, shaggy mane, and a twitch in his left eye.

Unfortunately, I could not make out every detail of his face in this rather...animated...conversation he was having. especially since his crown, while it appeared less helmet like and was more of a glorified circlet, hid his face. The armor he wore on his hooves made a sharp clanging noise and kicked up papers that were strewn everywhere. I dropped my sandwich which did nothing but flop soundlessly onto the floor.

Thankfully Sombra did not seem to notice me. Or the sandwich. Especially the sandwich.

"I hid and trapped the only artifact that matters, we do not need these magic eyes that this book mentions."

Wait...the papers strewn there mention Sapp'ra's eyes?

"'But these will give me more power!' you say. Is that all you ever think about? How can something neither of us can use have any potential benefit?!" Sombra yelled again.

Who is he talking to? It's not me but nopony else was here.

I sidled a little closer to the papers and remembered Sombra mentioning something about personalities created by dark magic. Maybe that is who that is, though that must be very annoying having a voice in your head all the time.

Young Sombra rolled his eyes. "Onyx you are about as powerful as a the rock you are named after and have about as much as intelligence as one. Although at least the rock has some class to it, and can hold more meaning full conversations then you could ever hope to attempt."

There was a pause and then Sombra burst into a brief bout of eerily humorless laughter. "Keep telling yourself that," he muttered.

So Onyx is the name of the voice? That honestly sounds more like a Crystal Pony's name. But why would he be talking to a Crystal Pony that was...in his head? Perhaps he's drunk? It didn't seem like it but I probably shouldn't rule out any possibilities at this point.

I got close enough just as Sombra gathered up all the loose papers in a stack and began to walk off in another direction rifling through the levitating pile.

Picking up my sandwich, which thankfully still seemed edible-not that I was planning on it. I drifted after him as he muttered about how stupid this Onyx was even though it was to hard too make out all the words.

The sounds of his voice seemed to grow softer and the äerint seemed to fade until I woke up to the call of a flugelhorn outside, beams of sunlight straying across the crystal floor.

Somehow I had ended up back in the hall where I started, as if I had never left. The door to my sitting room hideout was wide open.

Then, I noticed that my sandwich was gone, a trail of its remains leading off in another direction.

However weird that may be, the first thing I was going to do is clean up all that salt.

...And talcum powder.