Chapters The Stereotypical Necromancer
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. The Stereotypical Necromancer
Author's Note
Hey there folks. This chapter is kind of where the story earns a bit of that dark rating up there. Before this, the worst that happened was Light Flow bumping into a pole and thinking mean thoughts.
This is just a sort of warning, since even I realize it's kind of a departure from the previous chapters. I'm not quite sure why I wrote it like this, but it was just sort of like something came over me as I wrote it. I may have gone over the 'ironically emo' vibe and into a straight up 'emo' vibe. ~~also yeah i don't actually know what emo means thats right i'm ignorant~~
So anyway I might have gained some sort of real attraction to dead things in the process of writing this.
Enjoy!
Chapter 4 - The Bunny
Light Flow sat alone in his room, as was normal for him. He spent almost all of his time in his room when he wasn't at school or the library. He just didn't see any reason to spend time outside, or interact with anypony he didn't need something from. Though that philosophy was usually tossed aside when his mother forced him to spend time with her.
He loved her, but she could be so annoying. Villains didn't need mothers, and villains didn't play boardgames!
The room itself was the closest thing he could get to a pure reflection of his inner self. It was as if he had filled a bucket with his essence, shook it all up, and tossed it into a room! While he realized too late that particular description was creepy in an uncool way that he didn't like, it didn't change the fact that there was no place he'd rather be,
In a word, the room was black, very black.
He had a black mattress, black sheets, black curtains, black windows... Okay he didn't have black windows, but he really wanted some.
He had a black bookcase, filled with black books written on black subjects. He had a black chest, where he pretended to keep dark secrets, but in actuality it was his dark toy chest. The walls were painted black, and he had a dirty brown wood floor that he covered up with black carpets because his mother said they weren't allowed to paint the floors. He didn't understand why, it's not like anypony would care; but he had to concede some battles to the forces of good and his mother.
After staring around his room at his cool stuff for reasons he couldn't quite understand, he turned his attention back to the horseshoe box he had pulled out from under his bed. He swallowed nervously. He wouldn't lie about that, he was nervous. It felt like there was a little knife in his belly, trying to rip itself up his throat and out of his mouth. He was very nervous, but he was also so excited!
Excitement was such a similar feeling to nervousness, but it felt so much better. It was so familiar to him. The bursting, tearing feeling in his chest whenever a new book came out. That cutting, rending sensation in his stomach when he lit his horn for the first time, and managed to cast a simple little light spell.
He often thought of a quote from one of his old books at a time like this.
This sparks the dark fires in my heart! The cold flare of life stirs in my soul!
He had always thought that was so cool, but he had left that part of himself behind now. Though he did make a reminder to write some of that down in his book of dark poetry. Even villains enjoy reminiscing on the ponies they used to be.
He shook himself out of his reverie, and he focused on the present. This was the kind of thing he'd been dreaming about for weeks now. He had read the measly collection of necromancy related stories that the local library stocked, and he had even resorted to reading anatomy textbooks due to his growing obsession with dead things. But he was tired of reading, he wanted to get hooves-on.
His mother had found it outside in her garden, and she gave it to him to bury. She was considerate like that, she knew how much he enjoyed tragedy. But he wasn't sad, and he wasn't going to bury it. He wanted to play with it.
He lit his horn for a moment, before letting the faint light fade away. He wanted to use his hooves for this. He carefully, almost reverently reached his hooves out and took the top of the box in his shaking hooves. He delicately lifted it off, and placed it on the black carpet beside him. He looked inside, and his eyes lit up in wonder as he viewed the contents.
It was a small, white, bunny rabbit. Barely the size of his hoof, really. It didn't have any visible injuries, but it was thin, and almost pallid. He guessed that it had died due to starvation, but he wasn't sure how. It wasn't like there was a shortage of food around here. Heck, it had even died in a garden full of plants. The only logical conclusion is that it had some sort of eating deficiency.
He stared at the animal unabashedly. He drank in the sight as if he had gone three days in the desert without water. He wanted it to be a familiar sight. His mother was out for the day, so there was no chance for anypony to see him hunched over the corpse of a woodland creature. He didn't really care what most ponies thought, but his mother...
He didn't want her to think he was weird...
He wanted to touch it, but he held himself off from doing so until he took in every detail. He swallowed heavily, it felt like there was something stuck in his throat, trying desperately to claw its way out. He swallowed again, his lips suddenly dry.
He took note of the visible veins running throughout the small creature. They were pressing themselves against the skin of the creature. The usually active functions of the body now ceased, and the formerly red veins took on a greyish blueish tint. He wondered what happened to the blood inside a creature when they died. Did it evaporate or something? Was it absorbed? Did it just clot away into nothingness? His idle curiosities turned to burning questions in his mind, and he made a note to look it up in an anatomy textbook.
He turned his eyes to the tiny bones sticking out of the small thing. The ribs especially were quite obvious. The little sticks of bone designed to hold all the meat of a creature together. They stuck out against the fur of the creature, straining its now-useless skin to a near breaking point. He wondered if the pure white of bone would contrast with the slightly dirtier white fur.
Light Flow wet his lips again, and thought about getting a glass of water or something. He chuckled out loud to relieve some of the pervading pressure that was building in him. The noise reverberated around in his head, bouncing around the walls of his mind. His visual curiosity was sated, he was almost ready to touch it.
He tentatively leaned his head closer. He was almost touching the bunny with his muzzle now. He was so close that he could likely reach out with his tongue and....
No. That wasn't something he wanted to try right now, or maybe ever. For now....
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply though his nose.
...
He leaned back from the tiny thing and tried to reassert his thoughts. Actually, he boxed them up and threw them out of a metaphorical window. It didn't matter what he thought. It was time for the main attraction.
He slowly, so slowly reached a trembling hoof into the box and lightly touched the bunny with the edge of his frog.
It was....cold.
He let out a heavy breath, and pressed his frog against the small form a bit more forcefully. He knew how careful he had to be, since he didn't know the next time he would have any sort of chance to be this intimate with a corpse. It would be very, very bad if he broke it.
His face broke out in a wide grin as he slowly rubbed the soft, cold form of the bunny. He felt the tiny protrusions of its bones sticking through the skin. He felt the hollow feeling of its chest, and heard the bones creaking when he pushed too hard. He was petting it just like a living animal, but it was dead!
He loved the feeling. He made himself love the feeling. It didn't matter if his eyes were welling up a little. The hot feeling in his face was from exhilaration, nothing else! He was still smiling!
He was so happy.
He gently took his hoof away from the unmoving form when a drop of liquid landed on it, and slowly closed the box over it. He slid the box back under his bed as his cheeks matted from the hot wetness pouring down his face. He slowly pulled himself onto his bed with shaking hooves, as little whining noises escaped from his rictus grin. His teeth chattered as he lowered his head onto the pillow, and the cloth quickly became damp.
He sobbed into his pillow, mouth still set into a wide smile.
So happy.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Chapter 5 - The Pink Thing
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. The Stereotypical Necromancer
Celestial Year 992 AB
"I'm telling you! I've been there! Lots of times, honest!"
The familiar southern twang that he wished wasn't so familiar drifted across the classroom and filled Light Flow's ears. He glanced over to where a set of orange hooves had placed themselves on top of a small wooden desk. His eyes lazily drifted up to the face of the pony attached to them, as she yammered on about her supposed adventures into the Everfree Forest. A small group of his weak-minded classmates had gathered around her, and were listening with enthralled expressions.
He snorted in derision. He couldn't wrap his head around why those pathetic ponies cared so much about a few silly trips into a stupid forest. Even if the forest was really dark and scary, and really cool. And probably filled with neat dead stuff. And maybe he had always wanted to go in there himself, but it wasn't like he was too scared to!
He... just...never found the time.
He was busy quite often, with his reading, and his brooding, and his.. uh...
Stuff...
Why was he trying to justify this to himself? It didn't matter!
"It's practically my second home! It don't scare me a bit! Why, I even made friends with a Timberwolf!"
His classmates let out gasps, and multiple ponies simultaneously went 'ooh' and 'aah'. He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. It all sounded so dumb to him. Just because she lived next to the forest didn't automatically mean she was some kind of expert.
He unconsciously scooted his chair closer to where the apple pony was spinning her wild tale. Just because the sun had been shining into his eyes. No other reason.
Unfortunately, the subtle sound of the chair scraping against the floor caught the attention of the farm pony mid-sentence. He saw those green eyes flick towards him as her mouth halted in the middle of a word. He saw her close her mouth, before a grin formed on her face; and he felt panic rapidly rise inside of him. He set his eyes forward, and a pained grimace made its way onto his face. He heard the telltale 'clip-clop' of hooves on wood and silently cursed his hubris.
Don't let her come over here. Celestia help him, he really didn't want her to come over here. Please, please please ple-
"Light Flow believes me! Don't you, sugarcube?"
He felt a hoof throw itself over his withers, and he sighed audibly. He stared forlornly at the open book on his desk, before turning his head to look into Applejack's big green eyes.
He had learned her name after enough time, though he would always pretend he hadn't. It was hard not to pick it up though, especially with how much she bothered him. It seemed like every week she found some new excuse to inject herself into whatever he happened to be doing.
If he was going to the library, she would spot him from her family's apple cart and forcibly tag along with him. If he was reading in the schoolyard, she would come over and sit next to him and just talk and talk and talk for what seemed like hours on end. If he was plotting evil plans alone in his room, his mother would come up to tell him that Applejack had come by to see him.
If he was having any sort of fun by himself: Applejack always seemed to come along and ruin it with her presence.
He hated her so much.
He turned his attention back to the present, and to the hopeful green eyes staring into his own exasperated brown ones. He felt the tension in him grow as it always did when she was near. It was a horrible bunching feeling in his bones, like they were coiling in on themselves.
He mentally geared himself up for another encounter and pasted a condescending smirk onto his face. He may not have felt it, and it didn't really reach his eyes, but it was important to at least try and maintain his illusion of 'uncaring jerk'.
He shook the offending hoof off his withers: "As if! Like you would ever go someplace that scary, Orange Hooves." He announced in his best 'holier than thou' voice. Though, his smirk fell a bit as he thought about the meaning of 'holier than thou'. He didn't really want to be holier than anypony else, it was kind of his whole schtick that he wasn't .
As he pondered the use of the phrase 'eviler than thou', he didn't notice Applejack looking at him with a growing fire in her eyes. He was startled out of his musings when she jabbed him in the side with a hoof. "Oh yeah? You callin' me chicken? I bet you wouldn't go in there in a million years!" Her face tilted upwards in smug satisfaction, pleased with her rebuttal.
He heard the words, but he was having a hard time understanding them. They rattled around in his head, and his well-practiced smirk slipped off of his face in favor of his mouth opening slightly in disbelief. His brow furrowed, and he felt around his teeth with his tongue as he tried to restart his brain.
Was she... Was she calling him a chicken?!
He closed his jaw, and felt his cheeks redden as the dumb orange pony's entourage gathered around to giggle and laugh at him. They pointed their hooves at him, and began chanting 'Chicken! Chicken!' over and over again. The muddled high-pitched mockery blended together into one cacophonous jumble as it attacked his ears. It felt like the horrible sound was piercing into his very soul. His chest clutched tightly, and he sucked in his cheeks. His head felt hot.
He swung his head around, looking at his classmates' jeering faces. He felt his face warm, and he blinked rapidly to prevent anything incriminating from forming. He swung his head toward his accuser, and fixed an angry glare on her.
Her own smug smile had faded, and she was also looking around at the group with what he knew was likely a fake worried expression on her face. "Um.. Hey y'all, I-I didn't mean-"
"Fine! I'll do it!"
The words rang loud and clear, even despite the giggles and jeering calls of his classmates. The room quickly silenced as his proclamation rang clearly throughout the mostly empty space. He stared defiantly at the stupid apple pony, even as she stared back with that dumb sad expression on her face. He knew it was just an act to save face though, and he furrowed his brows; even as tears began to build at the corners of his eyes.
He felt them, hot and wet. But he refused to blink, as he stared into the eyes of the constant nuisance in his life. He wouldn't give her any ground. The defiant brown of his eyes clashed with the regretful green of hers, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop as everypony around them held their breath. The tension was palpable, and even he felt like this was maybe getting out of hoof; though his rising anger was quickly pushing those thoughts aside.
Isn't this what she wanted? Didn't she want to see him cry again? Isn't that why she hung around him?!
Finally, green's resolve broke, and the two orbs flicked down to the ground. "You don't have to do that sugarcube... I.. I was just teasin'..." She uttered in a low, defeated tone as she rubbed one of her hooves against the other. Her ears were tucked down into her head, and the end of her braided tail swished slowly over the floor. He had to admit, it was an admirable mockery of sincerity.
But he knew she didn't feel sorry. Not at all.
He stood suddenly, shocking everypony out of their stupor as the harsh screech of the chair reverberated in their ears. He glared at the stupid apple pony as she rubbed her dumb orange hooves together. Her ugly, puke-shaded eyes flicked between him and the floor; and he saw her tongue dart out to wet her lips. She started to speak again, but he interrupted her. He wouldn't let her have any ground. He wouldn't be the one on the defensive. Not with her.
Never again.
"I'll bring something back, to prove I went! Then who'll be the chicken?!" He projected his voice loudly. He wanted everypony to hear him clearly, so they would know. Know that he was strong, and she was weak.
He turned his back on his dumb classmates, and headed to the schoolroom door. He heard the weak apple pony call something after him, but he didn't care.
I am strong.
Author's Note
Hey there guys!
At the time I'm writing this, my story has just gone up, and I'm riding a bit of a high right now! If you're reading this on the 6th of April, then that means I got too excited and published this chapter before I had planned to. If you're not, then I forgot to take this bit out, and I'm a dummy. Either way, enjoy it!
Speaking of publishing schedules, I don't have one! Chapters will probably go up as I write them, since I don't have anyone to look over them or anything, and my actual writing schedule varies wildly. I wrote these first 6 chapters in the span of two days, constantly changing the story as it proceeded. It's not an incredibly good idea to plan things out as you go, since 10,000 words in 48 hours probably isn't very good, but who cares! I'm officially a writer!
This excitement I feel right now will definitely fade sometime soon, and it's likely that sadness will take hold as this story quickly fades into obscurity. It's likely that few people will ever read this. since it's not very good, and not many people even read fanfiction these days, but I will once again state that I don't care! I made something!
So, in regards to this chapter, it wasn't originally supposed to be like this at all. It was actually meant to be mostly made up of what the next chapter is going to be. The classroom was only meant to be a quick establishing scene, with Applejack daring Light into going into the forest, and him going and doing that.
But... as I wrote out the interactions and the drama, the chapter kept getting longer and longer. I'm always going to try and shoot for an average of between 1000 and 3000 words per chapter, and I didn't want to tack on the length of another full chapter, so I just decided to end it where it is.
Anyway, I don't have a lot more to say. If the next chapter's out, then go ahead and read that one! If I don't screw something up, then it should be the most important chapter so far! ~~though my favorite chapter right now is chapter 4~~
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was beginning to regret his hasty actions.
The Everfree lay in front of him from where he stood at its edge. The pleasant greens of vibrant grass and the speckled blues and yellows of the springing flowers began to fade away only a few steps ahead. They were replaced by the dull uniform greys and browns of dead grass and fallen leaves, shading the border of the cursed forest quite clearly. It was as if the forest actively sucked the life from the surrounding ground, ensuring that the trees were the only foliage living inside.
Of course, he knew enough about the forest to know that there were multiple kinds of different flora inside besides the greedy trees. Most regular plants couldn't survive in such a nutrient-deficient place, but some particularly hardy greens managed to eke out an existence. Unfortunately, this usually meant that they had found different sources of nutrition.
Like meat.
Like pony meat.
He closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. He shook his head roughly, his still-too-short mane swished against his head; and he reveled in the comforting feeling. He dared to peek an eye open at the forest, before quickly shutting them again.
It was still there, and it was still scary.
He took in deep breaths, in and out. In and out, like his mother had taught him. In and out, in and out . He felt his rising fear abate, and he opened his eyes again.
The forest stood ahead, a rising wall of black trees and dark shade. They were packed tightly together, almost as if the woods were creating an impenetrable defense against intruders. They shot upwards, easily dwarfing the relatively small unicorn. Branches and bushes intertwined together, creating a reasonable wooden facsimile of a chain-link fence. It was like a fortress.
Him and the forest had one thing in common though. They both ended with a reddish-brown covering on their heads. Instead of a normal green shade, the leaves on the trees sported a darker coloring. The brown leaves rustled together in the slight breeze: brushing together and creating dry, hollow noises.
The blackened wood. The grey grass. The lifeless leaves.
It was as if the entire forest was dead.
From where he stood on a nearby crest, Light Flow defiantly kept his ground against the blight. Soon, he would journey inward; and emerge forever changed from the pony he was now.
There was no going back.
After leaving the schoolhouse, and trekking his way across the relatively busy noon-time Ponyville: he had arrived at the edge of the feared Everfree Forest. The forest that parents used to scare their children into complacency. The forest that was whispered about in hushed tones with wary glances; as if it could hear them. The forest that everypony everywhere unanimously agreed seemed fundamentally wrong.
He tried to keep himself calm as his thoughts kept straying back to the forest. He had been angry when he left, full of rage and fire and conviction. But it didn't last, and now he just felt apprehension. He wet his lips, and left his mouth slightly agape. He sucked air in through his teeth, in and out.
He had to prove Applejack wrong. He needed to.
She can't see me weak.
He felt a tightening in his throat, and he swallowed to try and relieve it. He was stalling, he knew he was. It was obvious. He could so clearly identify what he was doing, purposefully leading his thought process in circles so he wouldn't be forced to act. He needed to stop. He needed to move.
He felt dumb. It was just a forest. So what if it looked, sounded, smelled, felt like death? Necromancers didn't fear death. They conquered it. They ruled it. Necromancers were death.
The characters in his books didn't fear anything. They were confident. They were fearless. They were apathetic and cool. They were fear.
But was he?
The shadows cast by the trees seemed to crawl along the ground in front of him. It grew along the ground in unnatural ways, and he watched with unblinking eyes as it seemed to waver in his vision. The darkness boiled and writhed, popping and stretching into new, horrible shapes. Long dark tentacles undulated in the non-space, dripping with inky viscera; and they reached out toward him. They grasped at his hooves, and squeezed and tore at them. Ripping and bleeding and hurting him. Red mixed with black, and he felt reverberations in his ears.
He felt sick. There was a choking pressure in his chest, and he felt his skin blister as the angry appendages slithered over it. A slimy, pushing feeling crawled its way up from where he felt the pressure was, though it didn't didn't abate in the slightest. It only grew.
He opened his mouth in a silent scream as he felt the slimy feeling fill his mouth. Black liquid pooled on his tongue in great, gushing spurts. It kept pushing up and up from his throat, like there was a fountain in his lungs. It grew and grew, until it began to leak out over his teeth, staining them a deep black. It trickled down his chin, and the tentacles rose to meet it. They crawled up his chest, and seemed to absorb the fluid.
It tasted like bunny.
The tentacles slithered up his upper half, and crawled along his body. His skin grew heavy and hot and wet where it came into contact with the nightmarish substance. He couldn't see it from where his eyes were set forward, but it felt squishy and loose on his bones. He felt like it was sloughing off of him, and into the void below them. He could smell the sharp scent of iron on the air. His white bones exposed themselves to the world, and were quickly smothered by the contrasting black tentacles as they forced their way into his opened insides.
They squirmed and writhed inside of him, poking and prodding at his organs and his bones. They wrapped themselves around the squishy bags and tubes, and pulled . His vital parts were torn from their proper places, and the void messily consumed them. His stomach burst in the powerful grip, and the useless acids dripped into the all-consuming emptiness. His lungs and heart were pulled away, and they popped messily like balloons; spraying red fluid onto the black ground below him. His bones snapped and cracked, weak like wet cardboard. The darkness took it all, sucking and gnashing and crushing.
Soon, his skin was empty, and the tentacles roved their way up his body. They slithered up his neck, and forced themselves into his gaping jaw. His teeth were plucked and stolen, and his tongue was similarly torn off in the process. The tentacles finally made their way up his face, and he saw them enter his field of view.
They slowly, so gently, inched their way closer to his still brown eyes. The two orbs were frozen in place, even as his body was cannibalized. He felt the tips prod at the edges, testing the fragile spheres before they pierced them in a swift blinding motion.
All he saw was darkness. Endless darkness.
It felt like an eternity, there in the dark. He felt his body fade away, though his consciousness remained. He tried to move his hooves, but he didn't feel anything happen. No feedback, and no movement. No sound reached his ears, and he couldn't taste the liquid anymore. All of his senses were completely deprived. His mind instinctively tried to panic, but he squashed the feeling before it could begin. Panic didn't matter anymore, not now.
He knew what to do.
He breathed in with lungs he couldn't feel, and opened his eyes .
He looked out into the dark forest in front of him, as silent as ever. The shadows were docile, and they didn't move from their places under the foliage. He felt around his teeth with his tongue, and he flicked his eyes down quickly to his torso. Everything was in its place, and his fur was unblemished. He couldn't smell iron, and he couldn't taste anything either. He shuffled a hoof on the grass, and felt the dull tips poke at his frog.
He breathed out. He was alive.
He stepped forward.
Author's Note
Hey friends! It's me again!
So this chapter is quite different than the rest, as you can probably see. To be honest, it was quite literally a test for me. My worst writing trait is scenery, and given the nature of this story, I was going to have to write gore eventually. So, I figured I would take this opportunity to flex my skills with both topics, and this chapter was born! Let me know how I did with both topics!
I will once again state that this chapter didn't at all go like I had planned, and I literally planned this one out! The scenery descriptions took way more space than I thought they would, and the hallucination scene came literally out of nowhere! So, instead of padding this chapter out with what I had planned; I decided to save it for next chapter.
So! I'm out of things to say, and I want to keep writing. So if the next chapter is out, go read that one; and if it's not.... you should wait I guess?
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow wasn't afraid. Not at all.
He wasn't even lying this time.
His careful hoofsteps left subtle marks in the forest floor as he trotted through the dank recesses of the Everfree Forest. The dark trees rose up around him, covering the sky with a living canopy; which left the underside of the forest in an unnatural shadow during the otherwise bright day. They pressed close to each other, completely blocking his way forward at times; forcing him to pick his paths at the total whim of the forest. He swore that the scarred and gnarled bark was forming laughing faces, mocking his inability to proceed.
He set his jaw, and resolved to ignore the stupid things.
Dead leaves and small greens crunched noisily underhoof, filling the air with unwelcome noise in the otherwise silent place. It rang loud in his ears, a sharp contrast to the normal encompassing silence of the forest.
Speaking of noise: it was far quieter than he had expected it to be. There wasn't any birdsong, or fluttering of wings. He couldn't hear the rustle of small feet as they trampled through the undergrowth or dug into the ground. There were no bugs crawling on the shaded floor, and no buzzing flies in the air. There was no animal life anywhere.
At least, not any normal animal life.
He stopped in his tracks, one hoof on the massive root of a particularly adventurous tree. He stood still, not daring to move, or even to breathe. A stalled gasp died on his lips, and his jaw hung open for a moment before he closed it softly. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and bit down.
He had heard something. Something unmistakable in the total silence of the otherwise dead woods. It cut through the air like a blade, reverberating easily in the cramped space; and ringing loudly in his ears.
It was a howl, deep and uniform. A low tone that hung for multiple seconds, before dying out slowly. He knew what that meant. He knew what kind of animal made that noise, anypony around these parts would. There wasn't a single pony in Ponyville that didn't know and fear that creature.
Timberwolf.
He suddenly felt far more unsure about his quest, like he had at the forest's edge. He wasn't quite afraid, that wasn't the feeling that was building in his gut. Fear was easy to disregard after his strange hallucination earlier. He didn't know the feeling brewing inside of him, but he wasn't as confident as he had been just a few minutes ago.
The howl hadn't sounded close, but his mother's old stories made Timberwolves out to be abnormally swift creatures above all. Strange, considering they were made of wood. If one caught his scent, he wasn't sure he would be able to escape.
As loathe as he sometimes was to admit his flaws, he knew he wasn't the most athletic pony. He spent nearly all of his time reading, and any physical exercise he may have had, he only got on the rare occasions his mother got fed up with his brooding and sent him outside to 'play'.
He raised his hoof from the dry forest floor and set it on the large root next to his other one, and took an unsteady breath. He pursed his lips, and felt around his teeth with his tongue. He flicked his eyes around at his surroundings, trying to decide whether he should just give up and go home. He had been walking for what he guessed was thirty minutes or so, and the sparse foliage around him was beginning to grow more dense. Other than that, he had no way of telling his progress into the woods. The trees blended together around him, forming an almost solid wall of blacks and greys. Everything looked the same in this stupid forest, and he couldn't remember which direction he had begun walking in.
He had vague recollections of seeing a cliff or two: harsh rocky inclines forming steep stony walls that thematically clashed with the regular wooden ones. He was also pretty sure he had heard a river a while back. The subtle bubbling and washing of the waves had been very soft on his ears, and he wasn't even sure he wasn't hallucinating again. He hadn't been able to see the watery pathway anyway, so he had dismissed the thought of it and continued on his way.
He wouldn't panic, he refused to, no matter how lost he may or may not have been. His eyes were dry. He was fine. He would keep going until he found something, and he wouldn't give up. Not until he had something to prove his strength. He just.... he just had to...
He had to keep going. He had to take another step.
His hoof set itself down on the other side of the root, and he set his jaw. He looked forward into the shade and the quiet, and continued his earlier pace.
The trees scrolled past his vision in a unfocused blur as he cantered along on his chosen path. It wasn't a traditional path like the roads he had seen in Ponyville, but more of a simple opening in an otherwise crowded area. Since it didn't follow any logic except the forest's, he often switched directions and elevations; twisting and turning around and around. It effectively destroyed any chance he had of mentally keeping track of where he was going. He just knew he had to keep going forward.
One hoof in front of the other. Forward.
He continued that way for what he guessed was at least fifteen minutes. It could have been more, and it could have been less, but it was incredibly hard to tell in this place. He spared a quick glance to the leafy coverings above him, only taking his eyes off the path for a second; but it was enough, and that's when it happened.
He felt his hoof strike something hard, and the sharp pain came a moment before he began to tip forward. He sucked in through his teeth, and let out a tiny gasp as his view took a turn downwards. His back hooves slid on some stray leaves behind him, and he was left wobbling on one hoof. Of course, he couldn't keep balance that way, and he came crashing down onto his face.
He felt a stinging pain in his hoof from where it had struck the offending object, and a deeper pain in his jaw where it had taken the brunt of the fall. He groaned out between his smooshed lips from his humiliating spot on the forest floor, and silently thanked his luck that no one had seen that. He imagined he was a pitiful sight, lying there with his butt in the air and hooves splayed all around him. He gave some honest consideration to just closing his eyes and taking a nap, but he knew that was just inviting a quick death in his sleep.
He wiggled his butt in the air as his back hooves scrabbled for purchase on the ground behind him. He heard the swishing of his tail in the air and muttered out a muffled curse. Maybe a quick death wouldn't be so bad right now.
Eventually, he found purchase, and managed to heave himself up onto unsteady balance. He glanced down at what had tripped him, and he groaned at the sight of an outstretched tree root. He glared at the tree it extended from, and he could have sworn the stupid thing was grinning at him. He scoffed audibly, and turned his head, raising it haughtily. He wouldn't allow the tree the satisfaction of seeing him get mad. Regardless, he proceeded forward in a careful, measured pace, making sure to watch for protrusions on the path ahead.
He continued on that way for another thirty minutes before he caught a flash of something ahead. He blinked a few times, almost sure that he was seeing things; and he sped up in an attempt to reach his new goal faster.
He slowed to a halt, and stared upwards. It was a break in the canopy, and he could see the sky again. But that wasn't what had shocked him, after all: he had seen the sky only an hour or so ago. At least, he thought it had been an hour.
He stared at the fading orange sky as it quickly darkened before his eyes. He couldn't believe it, and he felt his jaw open slightly in horror. He had gone into the forest at noon . How was it already sunset!?
The fire blazing in the sky was slowly extinguished by the growing inky blackness. It dragged its way across the sky, as the burning colors flew away in terror. Flying and screaming across the sky, desperately running from the encroaching abyss.
Sitting there in the middle of the most feared woods in Equestria, Light Flow bore solitary witness to the extinguishing of the light, and the death of the flame that had been a constant fixture for most of time.
It was replaced instead by an endless void, peppered with small dots of light, each burning in their own subtle way; though none brightly enough to risk the shadow reaching out to extinguish them. The new ruler of the sky would never permit such a transgression.
It was night.
And he needed to move on.
He tore his eyes way from the great sea of shadow, and focused them on the ground, on something real. If he stared too long at the sky, here in this cursed place where time didn't make sense; he feared that he too would be consumed. He shook his head. It was just the night sky, he had seen it a million times; and it never captured his attention like it did now. He could take up a new hobby in astronomy after he finished his task.
He took a heavy breath, and wet his lips. He was sitting on the ground in the middle of a ray of moonlight shining down through the trees. He hadn't even realized he'd been sitting, and he couldn't remember ever doing so.
He raised himself up from where he had unconsciously taken a seat, and stretched one of his hooves out behind him. It was surprisingly stiff, and he found himself wondering if he had been sitting for longer than he realized. The forest must've been playing tricks on him, it was the only explanation.
He ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth, and took a moment to collect himself and his thoughts. His horrible hallucination from earlier flashed in his head, and he sucked in a gasp. He had been trying to forget it happened, but it kept bothering him. He had no idea what had happened. He had just been standing there, at the edge of the forest; and suddenly it was like he was in a nightmare. A horrible nightmare that he hadn't been able to wake from.
He hadn't been able to move, and he hadn't felt any of the things the tentacles had done to him. He couldn't breathe, and he could barely think besides. He hadn't even been able to move his eyes from where they had frozen on the sight of the forest; but he had still been able to see what the shadows had done to him. It was like he had simultaneously seen from his eyes, and from the eyes of someone watching it happen. Forced to watch his skin melt away and his insides consumed.
His breath shuddered as he felt the phantom feelings of his organs bursting and his ribs cracking. It hadn't even been painful. That was the thing that unnerved him the most. All he had felt was the uncomfortable pressure in his chest, nothing else. Even as his heart ruptured, and his lungs were crushed; he hadn't felt any pain at all. The thought of it made him sick.
What if it really didn't hurt? It could happen to him at any time and he wouldn't even notice.
He felt pressure rising in his chest, and he quickly forced the subject from his mind. He didn't think this was an incredibly good place to vomit, and the feeling reminded him of something else besides.
Free from his delusions, he noticed he was shivering slightly. The air had chilled around him and he could see the small puffs of his breath. He frowned and blew out, the air cooling and materializing as subtle mist. He didn't think it should've been that cold, but he supposed the forest didn't really follow conventional rules anyway.
He glanced around him. The dark woods remained unchanged from his last check, and he couldn't hear anything either. He was still standing there in the moonlight, and everything was seemingly fine. But he wasn't going to make any progress just standing there in the light.
He looked down at the spot where the glowing moonlight created a bordered edge with the shadow. A clearly defined line, where light and dark clashed against each other.
He shuffled his hoof out towards the line, and took a deep. steady breath. He was ready, he could keep going.
His hoof slid out from the light, into the dark.
I know I'm close.
He continued on, quickly leaving the light behind. It was a strange feeling. The actual light in the forest hadn't changed from before, but it almost felt darker in the night. The shadows seemed to stretch out longer, and he thought he could see inexplicable things dancing in the darkness. The grey brush under him seemed to make less noise than before, and he wondered if it was less dry than the near-dead growths he had seen earlier.
He was lucky. If he hadn't been looking down at the ground he wouldn't have seen it. He would have walked straight into it.
The blue flowers.
He stopped completely still, one hoof still hovering over a small, blue flower. He shakily returned his hoof to his side, and shuddered slightly; eyes still trained on the small patch of blue in the otherwise grey surroundings.
It was Poison Joke. There was no other flower it could be, it literally could not be any other blue flower. Poison Joke was the only blue flower that could possibly survive in these woods. He had only been a moment away from stepping on one, and then...
He felt his mouth dry, and he let his tongue drift out between his lips slightly. He let it sit there as he bit down, the pain helping him stay grounded.
He had heard stories of the ponies who had touched the flower. He didn't really know how it worked, but the effects were usually relatively harmless. Something like a bad mane day, or itchy hooves, or some other ridiculous ailment. But sometimes, he knew, the little blue flowers could be so cruel .
There was one pony who had returned from the woods colored completely blue. He had been a different color before, of course, otherwise there would have been no tell whatsoever. Everypony had thought that the effect was skin-deep: 'Oh he's blue now, that's okay!'. Multiple doctors had ruled that there was no change in his physiology, and while they couldn't fix his new coloring, he was completely safe. But they were wrong.
His neighbors had woken to screaming one night. Loud and horrible and lilting, as if the screamer's voice was fading in and out with the pain. It had stopped midway through the authorities' attempts to break down his door, and everypony gathered there quickly began to fear the worst. When they were finally able to get into the poor fool's house, they couldn't find him. There was absolutely no trace of him anywhere in the house.
The only thing anypony could find was a single blue flower, laying in the pony's bed.
He knew that was just a story, and it was unlikely the plants would turn him into a flower; but he didn't want to take any sort of chance. He turned his back on the patch of azure flowers, and tried to ignore the feeling that he was being laughed at.
He didn't even really know why those things could survive here anyway. He could vaguely remember some sort of lesson in school about magical plants, but the memory slipped away as he tried to bring it forward.
He doubled back, heading to a fork in the trees he had encountered five or so minutes ago. Whether he understood them or not, he didn't want anything to do with them. The differing path came into view, and he turned down it; heading in the same basic direction he was before.
He had been trotting down that path for a matter of minutes before something else came into view. It looked like the trees were opening up ahead, and he momentarily feared he had gone in a massive circle.
His nose twitched as he caught the scent of something. He stopped for a moment as he tried to work out what it was. It wasn't a very familiar scent, but not completely un familiar. It drifted across his senses, hot and burning in his nostrils. He knew that scent, he knew it.
It was on the tip of his tongue.. He could almost picture it in his mind. He took another analyzing sniff. He recognized it as being vaguely... metallic?
His pupils dilated as he took in a deep, heady breath. It was blood. He was smelling blood .
He worked his jaw, his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring. If something was bleeding that meant that something was hurt. There was a high chance that something else had done that hurting. There was a similarly high chance that the aforementioned something else was still nearby. It would likely be a very bad idea to investigate.
But what if something is dead?
After a moment of deliberation, he threw his concerns out of a metaphorical window. The scent seemed to be coming from up ahead anyway, so it's not like he was going out of his way. Everything would be fine, he just wanted to see where the blood was coming from.
He cantered forward unsteadily, as if his hooves were moving through jelly. He fought to keep his head clear, as the hot scent of blood filled his senses. He didn't know what was coming over him, it wasn't like he hadn't smelled blood before. He couldn't figure out why he was so intent on finding it.
But it smells like there's so much.
He emerged from the break in the trees, and gazed out on the view before him. A great chasm stretched out as far as he could see, deep and vast. The jagged edges continued down past the edge of his vision, and he idly wondered how far it went. The entire thing was filled with great amounts of fog, leaking out from some unseen source below; hiding even the other side from view. Even if he was looking straight down from the edge, he doubted he would be able to see the bottom; and he couldn't see the opposite edge either.
Straight in front of him there stood two large wooden poles. They were brown, oddly enough: completely at odds with the black and grey trees behind him. They stood sentinel over the chasm, old and weathered, but still holding strong.
But Light Flow only barely registered those unimportant details, and he only gave them a moment of thought. His entire mind was focused on the other thing in front of him.
It was a corpse. The corpse of a dark-green pegasus pony.
He stood there, staring at the pegasus as he wondered how it had even got here. The skies above the Everfree were known to all pegasi as a strict no fly zone. Apparently, the winds were unpredictable or something; but he had never stayed around a relevant pegasus long enough to understand any more than that. He didn't even really care how it got here though, he only cared that it was here.
He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly dry. Normally, he would feel some amount of sadness at seeing a dead body; especially a pony. But after his trials in the hills and the forest, he couldn't feel anything except but a dull sense of triumph. It made him sort of queasy, having that sort of reaction; but it didn't stop the feeling.
He had persevered, and this was his prize. This was his reward.
He slowly moved toward the corpse from where it sat a few hoof-lengths away from the poles. He could see the puddle of blood spreading from the body, and he sniffed deeply again. It was deep and rich, hot and metallic. It burned his nostrils, and it made his eyes water from the power of it.
He liked it. He liked it in a way he hadn't liked the bunny.
He finally arrived at the side of the corpse, and watched the way the puddle slowly crept over the ground. The pegasus must have died recently, otherwise it wouldn't have even been here. He was surprised it was here regardless, as he assumed the creatures of the forest usually did away with corpses very quickly.
He stood there silently as the puddle crept up to the edge of his hoof and slowly encircled it. He expected it to be warm, but it wasn't. He pressed his now wet hoof down into the pool of cold liquid, and listened to the subtle squishing noise it made. It was similar to the sound of a foal playing in a puddle after rain, but so sinfully different at the same time.
He lifted his hoof, and felt some of the liquid drip off into the puddle below. He brought it up to where he could see it, and watched, enthralled, as the red ran down the hard part of his hoof and into his soft frog. He shivered slightly as the cold liquid made contact with his bare skin, and continued to watch as it ran down into his trimmed fetlocks. The brown fur was stained red before his eyes, and he let out an excited breath.
This was the best day of his life.
He..
He slowly poked his tongue out from his lips. He stared at the runny red liquid on his hoof, a beautiful contrast with the pale flesh of his frog. He slowly lifted his hoof closer to his face, and his outstretched tongue.
He knew it was a bad idea. He knew it was gross, and dangerous, and weird, but he couldn't deny the feelings stirring in his heart.
What does blood taste like?
His hoof stopped an inch away from his face. The scent was overpowering at this distance, and he breathed heavily as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes; bunching up messily before running down his cheeks. He cautiously stretched his quivering tongue out.
His organ made contact with the liquid, and his eyes somehow widened further.
It was.... awful .
His face scrunched up, and he made a gagging noise as his hoof lowered to the ground. Sweet Celestia did he hate that! It was overpoweringly metallic, even worse than how it smelled. It also tasted faintly of meat and dirt and something else he didn't even know. He felt his stomach rebel at the foul taste, but he sucked his lips in and forced it to calm.
"I'm not doing that again." he muttered out loud, before giving a start at the sound of his ragged voice. It sounded like he hadn't had a drink in days, though he supposed it had been at least half of one. He should get going home soon.
But first... He stared back down at the body. He couldn't see any visible wounds, so he figured the body must've been laying on top of them. He wanted to see what had killed the poor pony, so he lit his horn in preparation of turning the body over.
He directed a small magical tendril towards the head, and made contact with the side of the face.
The head jerked.
He gasped loudly, and took several steps back. As he felt panic begin to shade his mind, he tried to call his magic back to him; but his channeled power wouldn't listen. It was as if his magic was doing things on its own, as he felt his magical pathways open in ways he had never felt before. His inner arcane power flowed through his body, connecting in ways that made his skin itch. He flicked his eyes upwards at his still-lit horn as it steadily grew in light, then back down at the magically connected corpse. The head continued to twitch and shake unnaturally, before jerking backwards in a motion that would've snapped its neck had it not already been dead. Bones jutted out freakishly underneath the skin of its taut throat, and the head quickly jerked back forward, as if on a spring.
Suddenly, the head swiveled all the way around to stare at him, making popping noises as the joints dislocated. He screamed loudly when the bloodshot eyes flicked open and focused on him. They were green, though the iris had seemingly popped and begun to bleed out into the sclera. Blood was also seeping in from somewhere, slowly staining the white orbs beginning from the corner. The emerald green was clashing with the blood red on the backdrop of pure white rather beautifully. He felt bile rise in his throat.
Of course it'd be green..
He gasped in quick breaths, trying to calm himself as the corpse stared unblinkingly at him with its bleeding green eyes. His skin was beginning to burn, and he begun feeling particularly hot lines over his body where he assumed the associated magical pathways were. He admitted, he hadn't given as much focus to the arcane sciences as he had wanted to, but even with his limited knowledge, he knew that activity such as this should've been impossible unless a particularly complex spell was being formed.
The jaw of the corpse flapped uselessly at him, and he noticed that some of the pegasus' teeth were missing. It was a strange thing to notice at a time like this, but he couldn't help it. He flashed back to when his teeth were plucked from his mouth, and he shut his eyes against the intruding memories. It was the worst possible time to develop PTSD, and he really wished that it would save itself for later.
The burning heat began to travel from his chest to his haunches, and he screamed again in pain. It was burning him, deep down inside. He imagined his organs bursting from the heat, and saw them again being crushed by inky tentacles made from void. The fluids wouldn't leak out anywhere though, they would just pool in an puddle inside a meaty flesh sack.
The fire in his body reached the very back of him, and he began to cry from the sensation. If somepony had taken a brand to his backside, he imagined it would feel less painful. He focused on the image of a brand, the outdated tool that was banned in most parts of Equestria. He thought about what it did to a flank. Searing and scarring the flesh with a permanent mark.
"Make it stop... Please somepony make it stop... Make it STOP!"
......
It was sudden, so sudden that he wasn't even sure that anything had changed.
As if Celestia Herself had descended from the Heavens to grant his fevered wish, all the pain just stopped .
The pain had vanished as quickly as it had come. His magic faded away, and the corpse lay still once more. Its head was still turned backwards, and the eyes were still open, but at least it wasn't twitching anymore.
The burning had faded, but his head still felt hot. Somehow, he stayed standing throughout that whole ordeal, even though he swore that his legs had given out at some point. He panted heavily, his mouth agape and his eyes hooded. His tongue hung out slightly, but he sucked it back in. He closed his mouth, and swallowed once. He was okay. Everything was fine.
He was done here. He didn't even want to play with the body anymore. He could barely look at it. He wanted to leave.
He turned his head from the ravine and the corpse, intent on leaving them behind, when he spotted it.
Well, he actually spotted two things, though he felt very different ways about them.
One of them was the picture of an open book that had made its home on his flank. It was a brown-bound hard cover book, with squiggles in place of words stretching out across lines, but that wasn't the main attraction there. The main focus was the open-mouthed pony skull laying in the middle of the visible pages.
Before his emotions could make their way towards elation, his mind drifted to the other thing he had seen, standing just a few hoof-lengths away from him.
It was a creature. A creature made of a hard, brown material. It stood several hoof-lengths above his relatively short stature, measuring about a hoof taller than a full grown pony. It was lean, and stretched nearly 5 hoof-lengths across; at least from where he stood. It had no discernable joints, and the wood seamlessly meshed into similar looking lengths along its body.
The bark stretched out beyond its body in several places where the withers and knees would be on a pony, rendering the creature looking rather asymmetrical. Adding to that, there were several odd tree branches sticking out from various points across its body; looking as if the leafy sticks had simply been picked up and rammed haphazardly into any free gap.
It lumbered forward on jagged wooden legs, ending in sharp claws made from elongated thorns.
The entire thing oozed a sickly green mist, pouring out though gaps in the wood and fading a few inches from their points of exit. He could see a similarly colored light shining brightly throughout its body, hurting his eyes with its intensity when he tried to look directly at it. It ran all throughout the creature, creating a convincing facsimile of veins and blood.
He heard a faint growl, deep and broken; like the sound of wood grinding together, and he drew his eyes up to the source. The head of the creature boasted shining green eyes, which were fixed intently on him. The eyes were completely uniform, lacking any sort of normal optical features that most creatures had. Its jaw hung open, and he could see the green light shining up from its throat; out through sharpened wooden teeth. It growled again, and he watched as a green substance, looking almost like sap, dribbled out from the mouth and onto the ground; where it sizzled slightly upon making contact.
"A Timberwolf."
"A Timberwolf is standing right in front of me."
"So why am I not scared?"
He stood there, just hoof-lengths away from one of the most feared creatures his mother had ever described to him, as it strode slowly towards him on those dangerous-looking wooden appendages. Its mouth hung agape, all the while dripping that acidic fluid, looking for all intents and purposes like it was going to open wider and devour him any second. A deep rumbling noise made its way out from the creature's chest, and rang loudly in his otherwise sound-deprived ears.
He stood there, subject to all those different terrifying things that would have normally brought him near to a heart attack.
He stood there, and he was completely calm.
Actually, scratch that, he was fascinated .
He had always wanted to see a Timberwolf, though he had obviously been too scared to seek one out before. His mother had given him a large book for his eighth birthday titled 'An Equestrian Compendium of Creatures' , and one of his favorite entries had been on Timberwolves.
Apparently, no one in Equestria had the foggiest idea how they worked, or even lived. Studies on captured specimens showed that the creatures didn't need to eat; despite their obvious penchant for meat. They had no digestive capabilities, and any consumed material just.. disappeared.
They had no observed method of reproduction either, lacking any kind of necessary organs. They didn't use plant-like methods either. New Timberwolves just appeared randomly in the forest from time to time.
Of course, as he remembered from his favorite part: none of that mattered. As far as anypony could tell, Timberwolves were effectively unkillable. They didn't expire from hunger, or thirst, or temperature; and nothing kept them down for long. When injured, they would just reconstitute themselves from random bits of nearby wood. If their surrounding didn't have wood, they would simply appear in a different place that did .
Though, Timberwolf corpses were periodically discovered by intrepid adventurers. While it had never been observed, Timberwolves were at least assumed to have a limited lifespan. No one knew how long that was though.
What that all boiled down to was: effectively, there was no way of stopping a Timberwolf. Especially not in their domain.
Running through that kind of information in his head should have driven him to absolute terror. Facing a Timberwolf unprepared like this was extremely risky, especially given where he was right now.
But none of it registered correctly in his head. He was calm.
"I don't feel like I'm in danger right now."
Maybe it was adrenaline? Or Ignorance?
Maybe it was the comforting green sphere he could see faintly glowing at the center of the Timberwolf's body.
He squinted slightly. It was like he could see it over the other layers of the creature, sort of like one of those fancy paintings he hated to look at. Though instead of the confusing dimensions enraging him like they normally would, he felt only peace.
He wondered if other ponies saw Timberwolves like he did. Why would anypony be afraid of these creatures?
He smiled, and stepped forward, towards the creature. The wild dog snarled gutturally at him as he approached, sending corrosive sap-like spittle flying in his direction. His eyes widened noticeably, and he ducked to the left. The sap-like acid flew past him, though some landed on his somewhat outstretched hoof. He sucked a breath in through his teeth at the burning sensation, and he looked down at a small patch of his flesh showing out through his fur. He made a silent note to himself to look out for that on his next encounters with these creatures. Just because he didn't feel any imminent danger, didn't mean he was in no danger.
He looked back at the wooden beast, and stood straight up from where he had been crouched on the ground. He faced the creature directly, and it bent low to the ground in preparation for a killing pounce.
He took in a deep breath. It was cold in his mouth, and it tasted like ice on his tongue.
He closed his eyes, and felt some unidentified feeling well up from deep in his chest.
He let the breath out. A cold mist expanded from his mouth, and he felt the air around him noticeably drop in temperature.
He opened his eyes halfway, as the Timberwolf stood frozen in place before him.
Unseen to him however, very small, very faint traces of purple smoke had begun to trail out from the corners of his eyes.
He took another deep breath, before letting it out in the form of a single shouted word.
"SIT!"
The clearing reverberated with the power of his command, and the following silence was deafening.
The Timberwolf seemed to shudder in place. Its jaw clacked feebly against its wooden snout, and small whining noises escaped from the terrifying maw. It seemed an eternity before anything happened, when the feared beast suddenly lowered its backside slowly to the ground. The wood made a creaking noise as the Timberwolf's shoulders sagged in apparent defeat.
He smiled at the beast, feeling joy well up inside of him that it was obeying. It wasn't even occurring to him that this was unnatural, he was just reveling in the moment. He stepped forward, right in front of it now, and the beast seemed to flinch in an odd fashion. The wooden pieces of its body clacked together as the Timberwolf's head lowered in submission. Its ears lowered, and a low piteous whine echoed out from within its throat.
He took the moment to study the orb in its chest in more detail. It was small, only about an inch or two in diameter. It burned with an unnatural green light, almost identically to the light that shone visibly though its bark. He felt an odd attraction to it, and a strange desire to hold it in his hooves almost consumed him. He had even reached a hoof out to almost touch the wooden skin of the creature before he thought better of it.
He exhaled loudly, and leaned back from his examinations. He turned away and walked confidently past the usually hostile monster. He knew that it would stay until he was gone.
It knew its place.
"I'll be back to see you later!" He called out over his withers, only sparing a glance at the hunched shoulders of the beast.
He settled into a comfortable trot out through the woods. He didn't know why, but none of the things that halted him before mattered to him now. He didn't come across any Poison Joke. He didn't trip on any rocks. He didn't stop to stare at the rising sun through the break in the canopy. He barely even thought as he navigated his way through the cursed woods.
He had only one thing on his mind. Showing Applejack his brand-new Cutie Mark.
Though, he did make a stop at a small stream to wash the dried blood off his hooves. His mother was going to freak out as is, and he didn't want her to think he was hurt. The thought of his mother brought him back to reality somewhat, and he wondered what she was thinking right now. He had stayed out all night after all, so she was probably going to punish him in some way.
He shuddered as he let his hooves soak in the cold water.
Now THAT was going to be scary.
Author's Note
Alright folks, this is it! The most important chapter so far for multiple obvious reasons!
This is also a very long chapter, at least compared to what I usually write. I had only meant it to be around three or four thousand words, but it just kept stretching out, and I didn't want to cut it up for once.
Imagine if I had just went ahead and made Chapter 6 the whole thing!
Speaking of stretching out, I may have stretched myself too thin with this one! I've never ever written something of this length, and it shows in some spots. A big part of me wants to delay its release until sometime later so that I can go over it more thoroughly, but honestly? I'm just tired. Tired both physically and mentally. I really wanna be done with this, so I'm putting it out now.
Also, I just want to have it out for the morning and early afternoon. That's the time I figure it's most likely to be noticed, and I'm gonna be asleep during that part of the day, so I gotta put it out now.
In regards to the chapter's contents, I don't have a ton to say. I really tried to go all in with scenery and descriptions on this one, which might result in a bit of a slog. But it's a forest guys, it's MEANT for long, boring descriptions. Also, I don't do details on characters well, so the Timberwolf might sound a little weird. I tried to look at reference pictures, and they sort of helped, but not a lot.
tl:dr - I tried, and got really tired.
See you later!
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was happier than he had ever been.
Though, he hadn't been nearly as happy a week ago.
A week ago, when he had returned from his impromptu trip to the forest.
After emerging from the shadowed groves within, It had taken him a moment to adjust to the relatively blinding sunlight. It had burned into his retinas, and he had to close his eyes before they began to water. He raised a hoof up in front of his face and just sat there, trying to get used to the feeling of sunlight on his fur.
With the extreme absence of sunlight in the forest, he had become quite used to feeling cold. The warm light on his short coat almost burned in comparison, and he wondered for a moment if he should look into obtaining some sort of cloak. Though he still couldn't see, he felt a small smile grow on his face at the thought.
A real villain like him should have a suitably dastardly outfit.
A real villain. That's what he was now!
His vision began to return to him, and he immediately flicked his eyes down to his flank.
It was still there. He hadn't been hallucinating again. He had a cutie mark.
He had a Necromancy cutie mark.
He giggled drunkenly under his breath as he swung his body around, trying to see it from different angles. He noticed the pony skull sitting in the book was specifically a unicorn's, and he admired the addition of the horn. He thought the spiraling bone structure jutting from the forehead really added something to the whole picture; like it was just screaming: 'Magic! '
He realized that a pony skull on a book didn't automatically mean 'Necromancer', but it was just like he knew .
It was sort of like how a pegasus instinctively knows how to flap their wings, or a unicorn inherently knows how to draw power from their inner fount.
It was instinctive. It was inherent.
He just knew.
Unfortunately, as he had been busy staring down at his rear, he hadn't noticed the two ponies approaching him from the direction of town.
"Well there you are, you varmint!"
He heard a familiar southern twang ring out loudly amidst the relative quiet, and turned his head up towards two orange hooves as they approached. It was Applejack, and she had another pony with her; a big red stallion who he vaguely remembered as her brother. The first time he had met him, he had been quite talkative; but recently he had been far quieter than what he assumed was normal.
He smirked as the orange pony approached rapidly, her brother trailing after her. He glimpsed a stormy expression on her face, but he figured she was just sore that she was wrong about him.
He squinted at the approaching ponies, noticing that something was... different?
He could have been imagining it, but he swore that he could see a small orb floating at the middle of each pony's chest.
He looked closer as the ponies stopped in front of him. Yes, there was definitely a small glowing orb floating around inside of each pony. There was something familiar about those orbs...
His eyes widened as he recognized them. It was exactly like the green sphere he had seen in the Timberwolf!
Their orbs weren't green though. The one inside Applejack was glowing with a faint golden light, and pulsing at a very steady pace. He could also see something deeper inside, some other flash of color, but he couldn't quite make it out.
The one inside her brother was a very light brown, and it quivered solemnly. Unlike his sister's, his didn't pulse. It just sat there, steadfast and strong.
Seeing the orbs again filled him with that strange desire from before. A whispering in his head that told him to just reach out and take them .
He blinked his eyes rapidly, and shook his head. He could worry about the spheres later. He had bragging to do. He turned his head up, stopping it at about level with Applejack's.
He opened his mouth, ready to boast about his new cutie mark, before he felt something strike him in the face.
His mouth gaped open from where his head had tilted to the side, and he reached a hoof up to prod at his stinging cheek. He worked his suddenly aching jaw, and moved his head back around to stare with wide eyes at Applejack from where she stood staring at him with a rapidly reddening face.
"Now what d'you think y'all have been doin'? Ya can't just proclaim to the whole darn world 'bout yer intent to traipse off to the most cursed place on Equus, an' then not come back! "
Applejack seemed to be upset. Though he couldn't understand why she was screaming at him so loudly with that red face of hers. He idly noticed her tendency to sink deeper into her accent when she was mad, and thought about telling her to calm down.
Though... his mother always told him to never try to tell a raging mare to calm down. It was probably best to just let her blow off steam for now, and he would apologize when she was done. He sat his butt down on the ground, and prepared himself for stinging ears as Applejack took in another deep breath.
"Ah was sure y'all were just blowin' steam, but yer mother came by the farm this mornin' askin' where y'all were, an' ah didn't know what to tell her!"
"Land sakes Light Flow! Ya' got family to think about! Ya' can't jes' go off and spend th' night in a haunted forest, lettin' yer poor mother an' everypony else think y'all were DEAD !"
He grimaced as he noticed tears begin to bunch up in the corners of her eyes. He flicked his gaze over to her brother standing just behind her. He just shrugged and shook his head.
"Very helpful, thanks."
"And y'all know the worst part? Ah lied to her! Ah told her you had spent th' night over, and that y'all had gone off somewhere in th' mornin'!"
"I.. I.. I thought ah had killed you!" Her face seemed to scrunch in on itself as the words came out, and she sniffed loudly. She seemed to be losing steam quickly, and he readied himself for a well-practiced apology.
"It was 'cause o' me that y'all went out into th' forest! When you didn't come back, I... I..."
She seemed to lose her voice at this point, and was just making little choking noises. He couldn't see her face from where she had tilted it down, but he assumed she was crying.
He sighed, and opened his mouth for the long awaited apology, but it stalled on his lips as he felt something crash into him.
Extrapolating from what he could see out through a sea of orange and yellow, he guessed that Applejack had rushed forward and hugged him.
Smells like apples.
The orange pony's embrace was tight, and he felt her soft orange fur rub comfortably against his. He belatedly realized that he was filthy, and thought about telling Applejack about it before her coat was ruined.
He sighed softly, realizing that she probably wouldn't care. She lived on a farm after all. He reached his hooves up and returned her warm hug, knowing it would probably be rude to just sit there.
He felt Applejack clutch him tighter in response, and idly wondered how much of this he could survive.
Or stand.
He felt something wet leaking into his mane, and he looked out past hers over at her brother. He shot a pleading look at the red stallion, but he just shook his head again. He lowered his face into a glare, before he heard muffled words drift up from the pony in his hooves.
"I'm sorry sugarcube. I didn't mean to make you feel like y'all had to prove anything."
He sighed softly, and internally cursed his luck.
"Why did I have to go and make a friend?"
He licked his lips and finally took his chance to speak. "I'm... I'm sorry too, Orange Hooves. I didn't mean to make anypony worry about me. I just lost track of time."
He pried the pony off him, and held her at about hoof's length. Her face had returned to its usual orange color, though her eyes were still a little red.
He stared into those red, runny, emerald eyes as she sniffled a small line of snot back into her nose. He shuddered slightly at the sight of it, and didn't dare to look down at where her head had been resting on his coat.
Brushing the sanitary concern aside, he smiled softly and spoke again: "But don't you see? I did prove myself, look!"
He let the orange pony go, and turned around to show her his new cutie mark. He heard a soft pair of gasps, and cheered internally as a larger smile grew on his face.
He knew they were impressed. He had ventured into the most feared place for miles , and come out with the greatest special talent ever!
He waited there, butt turned toward the pair; as he waited for them to comment on his incredible mark.
The silence was deafening. He couldn't even hear any birds.
It was like he was back in the forest.
His smile slowly slipped off his face in favor of a nervous frown. "W-Well?" He called out behind him. He was seriously debating whether he should turn around when he finally heard a voice cutting through the hush.
"Oh sugarcube... That's.. That's great!" Applejack was speaking quietly, probably because she had just been crying. That was it.
"Um... Sugarcube... I'm sure you're real happy right now, but... Don't you think it's a mite... grim?"
He frowned at the word. Grim? Of course it was grim. He was a Necromancer for Celestia's sake!
He took a moment to wonder if he should be invoking Celestia's holy name for a topic like this.
He turned around to stare at the uncertain faces of the apple siblings, ready with a scathing reply about not judging other ponies' cutie marks. He opened his mouth and prepared to give them a lecture they would nev-
"Well, what does it mean?"
Huh?
He stared, open-mouthed and mid-word, at the large red stallion with the short mane who was staring at him with a furrowed brow. "W-What?" he managed to stammer out, as he tried to collect his suddenly scattered thoughts.
"Well whether it's grim or not, it don't matter." The stallion spoke with an air of caution, as if approaching a wild animal. "What does matter is its meaning . What's your special talent?"
Light Flow felt all of his prepared remarks empty from his mind. His jaw flapped uselessly as he searched desperately for words.
It was then that he remembered three very important things.
One. Necromancy was very illegal.
Two. The Apples were a very traditional family.
Three. There hadn't been a Necromancer for over one thousand years.
These facts all collided simultaneously in his mind, leaving him with one solitary thought. His eyes flicked down to what might as well have been a target on his flank, and he felt all of the moisture leave his mouth.
"I'm in trouble"
Okay. Okay he could handle this. The Apples were waiting for an answer. He needed to answer. He would just tell them the-
No. He couldn't tell the truth, was he stupid?! That kind of honesty could get him arrested! Or maybe killed? At the very least he would get in trouble, and he didn't want that.
He had to lie.
He smacked his lips, and breathed in and out erratically. They were staring at him strangely, he had to speak. He just had to say something, anything.
"Speak you fool!"
"Archeology!"
Two sets of eyes widened in sudden understanding, and Applejack let out a small 'ah' sound.
He smiled woodenly at the nodding ponies as he felt a small trail of sweat drip down the back of his neck.
He had no idea where 'Archeology' had come from, it had just appeared in his mouth. He hoped they didn't ask him about it. He didn't know anything about-
"So how'd you get it, sugarcube?"
He silently cursed Applejack and her dumb penchant for politeness. She was so considerate, asking about something so special to him.
"Why couldn't she be rude?!"
He was going to have to make something up, but what ?
"Well, um... You see, the, uh, funny thing about my cutie mark is... it's really funny actually.... Um...." He knew he sounded stupid, but he didn't care. He had to come up with something to tell the inquisitive pony...
!
Of course! It was perfect! Cover the truth with a half lie!
He lowered his voice to a near whisper: "Well, my cutie mark story is something alright."
This was perfect, absolutely perfect. This would work beautifully.
"While I was in the Everfree, I found something... something disturbing ..."
Two sets of heads leaned in closer. This was it, the deadly hook.
"I found bones. Pony bones ."
He watched as the Apple siblings leaned back, eyes wide. He saw Applejack take a sideways look at her brother, and he could tell that she was regretting asking.
But he was going to give her what she asked for.
He began speaking loudly and confidently, attempting to sound as grand as possible.
"I was lost in the darkened woods, wandering for what felt like forever; when suddenly! I caught a glimpse of white. I smelled something on the air, something foul and sickening. It was the stench of decay ."
"I followed my senses to what I thought was a small white pole jutting oddly from the ground. It was long and sharp . I went to dig it up, wondering what it could be attached to."
"And that's when I found it. It was a terrible sight, almost too horrible to describe..!" From the corner of his eye, he could see Applejack breath a silent breath of what he assumed was relief.
"But... I'll try anyway." He felt a sly grin grow on his face, sure that it would happen any second now.
"T-That's enough sugarcube!" Applejack's voice rang out at exactly his estimated time, and he morphed his face into one of outward surprise.
"Gotcha."
"But didn't you want to hear about my cutie mark?" He asked in a hurt tone. He looked down at the ground with a downcast expression, doing his best to mime the movements of a colt who had just been told his passion was uninteresting. Though, he supposed that's what he was?
Lies were always so confusing.
"Uh, w-well sugarcube, don't you think it's time you were heading home?" She stammered out nervously. He could see in those red-rimmed emerald eyes that she really didn't want to listen to him wax on about corpses. He internally celebrated for a moment, happy that he had averted the disaster.
But that's when he again noticed the rings around Applejack's eyes. The more he looked at them, the more he didn't think they were from crying. She must have been exhausted, he realized. It couldn't have been easy waiting for him to come home, he figured. He noticed the way she seemed to sway slightly on her hooves, and reasoned that she must not have had much sleep last night.
His eyes glanced over to the seemingly uninterested dark green eyes of Applejack's stoic brother. But now Light Flow was sure he knew what was going on, and the reason he was here at all.
"Waiting to take her home?"
"I think you should be getting home too, Orange Hooves." He spoke softly, a contrast with his previously projected voice. He wasn't entirely sure, but the feeling welling up in his chest seemed to be pity.
He really hadn't meant to make her worry, no matter how much he had wanted to prove her wrong.
He reached a hoof out to place it on her withers, and gave a small smile at the flustered look on her face. "I'll get going now." He returned his hoof to his side, and walked out past Applejack. He eyed her brother as he walked by, staring at the orb in his chest for a moment before passing him by.
"Light Flow!"
He stopped in his tracks as he heard Applejack call out from where she stood a few hoof-lengths away. He turned around, and fixed a questioning gaze on her. What did she want from him now?
Applejack seemed to flinch back from his gaze, and whatever words she had prepared stalled in her throat as she made several noises of consternation.
She finally seemed to find her voice, and leaned her head forward a bit: "I-I'll see you around, alright?" She licked her lips, and her gaze dipped back down to her hooves. She rubbed one against the other in a very familiar fashion, and he saw the golden orb in her chest begin to pulse more rapidly.
He watched with weary eyes. He wasn't quite sure why she had stopped him just to say goodbye. He had thought they had it all wrapped up pretty nicely without needing to say it outright. He gave her a nod, though he wasn't sure she could see it, and turned back towards the town.
"Now to face my mother.."
Author's Note
Here's chapter 9! Again not what I had planned! I'm an idiot!
I got some major writer's block in the middle of this chapter. I think I might've burnt myself out with the 6k word chapter yesterday, and I still haven't recovered. I managed to tough it out though. But the pacing of this chapter may be a little jumpy considering I wrote the two halves of it 9 hours apart.
Feel free to point out any glaring errors.
I really don't have anything else to say honestly. It might be a little while until the next chapter if I can't find a way to psyche myself up again. Sorry if that ends up being the case.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was happier than he had ever been.
Things were really looking up from last week.
After leaving the Apple siblings behind, he had started the trek back to his home. It was a bit away from the center of Ponyville, right in the middle of where most ponies lived, so it had taken him a while to get there.
There was a bit of land between the forest and the town, mostly consisting of small hills dotted with trees and rivers. Typical countryside views, really.
The Everfree sat at the south-eastern border of the town, thankfully putting it quite a ways away from what was usually called the 'Residential District'. Ponies called it that, but the town was so small that it was really just a collection of about two dozen houses or so. Not exactly what he would call a 'District', but he supposed it wasn't necessarily wrong .
"Bit different from the big city."
Two dozen houses may have seemed like a low-ball, but the truth was that there just weren't that many ponies in Ponyville. Adding to that, a lot of ponies lived in their businesses, and some of the pegasi had homes made of clouds, too. All of those different things added up to very few actual houses.
He crested the last hill, and looked out into Ponyville proper.
It was nice. He really did think so. It was a very different sight when compared to....
He shook his head. He didn't like thinking about it too much.
He made his way down the hill, and out towards his home.
But, as the grass turned to dirt, and he began to see ponies out and about on their day, he saw something strange.
Every pony he looked at, no matter how old or young, colt or filly, whether a blank flank or cutie mark: he saw something.
A small glowing orb, sitting in the middle of their chest.
His mouth opened slightly as dozen of orbs shined in his view. It was about noon, which meant nearly everypony in town had something to do or someplace to be. The combined mashup of multicolored lights danced across his vision, and he had to shut his eyes against the sight.
It was beautiful.
He gasped slightly under his breath, trying to regain his composure. After another moment, he opened his eyes to the sight of an orb approaching him.
"Why hello there Light Flow! How is your mother these days? You know, I heard that she was admitted-"
He gaped openly at the pale orb faintly glowing in his neighbor's chest. He completely tuned her usual babble out in favor of peering closer at the dull grey orb.
It looked... frail? Like it was just barely holding on. It was a pale grey, hardly shining at all. It sat there silently, giving one weak pulse every couple seconds.
He licked his lips, and peered back up at the face of his neighbor as she seemed to grow even older before his eyes. He looked over her sagging yellow coat and greying mane as if seeing them for the first time. He watched her wrinkled mouth move without even hearing what she was saying.
He wanted to get away from her. Now .
"Um, that sounds great ma'am, but I gotta get home, so bye!" He blurted out a familiar excuse, before hurrying away with his eyes trained on the ground. He bit his tongue and tried not to think about what he had seen as his home rose up on the horizon.
It was a simple affair, almost identical to the other thatched-roof cottages sitting to the left and right of it, but he could always distinguish it. There were little tufts of grass springing up from the dirt directly out front; direct consequences of his mother's unfortunate forays into gardening.
His hooves drifted over the sad little growths as he approached the front door. He stopped in front of the familiar brown door, and closed his eyes in preparation.
His mother was sure to be cross. He would be lucky if he got away within two hours. He could already hear her normally soft voice ringing loudly in his ears. Echoing out into the street where everypony could hear the frustrated voice of his dear mother.
He drew in a deep breath, and reached a hoof up to open the door.
That had been last week.
His mother, as it turned out, hadn't been that angry with him. Oh, she had still yelled at him, but only because he hadn't told her he was staying over at Applejack's.
He had almost forgotten about the lie Applejack had told his mother. He was going to have to thank her somehow for saving him from the potential fury of his enraged progenitor.
As she had been yelling at him about secrets and honesty or something, he had taken the chance to look at her orb.
It was a solid white, just like his mother's coat; and it pulsated slowly and softly.
If he had to describe the feeling he got when he looked at it, in a word, it would be... warm.
Warm, and comforting.
His eyes hooded slightly as more and more feelings rushed into his head.
Safe, soft, warm, comforting, loving, beautiful, wonderful, strong, caring, secure.
It was then that he had finally begun to understand what those orbs were.
He had smiled, even as his mother had lectured him loudly. The orb in her chest, he knew what it was.
It was his mother.
He had taken the time since then to write up potential meanings in a new notebook, which he affectionately titled: 'Weird stuff about my cutie mark'.
Maybe not the best name, but it wasn't as if it wasn't apt!
So far, he had three potential meanings that also tied in with his observations so far.
One. It was a pony's internal fount.
Two. It was the manifestation of a pony's lifeforce. Though, he didn't really know what that would mean. It just sounded cool.
Three. It was a pony's soul.
He had it narrowed down to either number one or three, when he heard a knock at the door.
He would have normally left something so insignificant to his mother, but she was out for the day on another of her errands. He didn't know why she went out so much, it always seemed like she was going off somewhere. It's not like it was any of his business though, he didn't even know why he was thinking about it.
He put his black-bound notebook down on his floor, and turned towards his black-colored door. He opened it with a flick of his magic and made his way down the short, uninteresting hallway and toward the small set of stairs that led to the bottom floor of his home. He made his way downstairs, into the plain main room, and over to the front door.
He mentally prepared himself for a social encounter, and opened the door to find.... nothing.
The sun shone in through the empty doorway, and he cautiously poked his head out and swung it from side to side. His ear twitched as he felt frustration building inside him. It seemed as if he was the victim of a prank.
He couldn't see anypony around, except for his old neighbor in her yard, who he quickly swung his head away from. He doubted she would pull a prank like this. Or even could for that matter.
He was about to shut the door in anger when he noticed something that he had seemingly overlooked. It was a medium-sized package sitting on the doorstep. He stared at it a moment, before lighting his horn to levitate it up to him. He grunted in surprise as he felt his magic take hold, and slowly lifted it up to where he could see it better.
His eyes widened when he saw his name scribbled in big letters directly on the top. Who would be sending him something?
It was heavy..!
He audibly panted as he struggled to keep the package in his magical hold. He didn't have the strongest magic around, especially since he had been neglecting the villainous exercises he had devised for himself two years ago.
In his defense, It was hard to stick to a schedule when there were so many other interesting things to do!
Like reading... and.... um....
Okay so all he did was read. But it's not like that was a bad thing!
He walked backwards into the main room of the house, struggling to keep the package afloat in the red glow of his magic. He set the box down with a heavy 'whoomp' as he turned his attention towards shutting the front door. He lowered his eyes back to the box and groaned loudly.
He wasn't super into physical labor, but it looked as if he had no choice.
He wrapped his magic around the box again, and felt a bit of strain as he struggled to lift it. He let out small noises as he carried it up to his room, little grunts and groans as he felt his head beginning to hurt. His horn sparked and sizzled as he reached the top of the steps.
What the buck is in this thing?!
He moaned in pain as he swung his door open with a shaking hoof. He walked into the middle of his room and gasped in relief as he let the package fall from his grasp.
It fell down onto his black carpet with a heavy 'whump', and he silently thanked somepony-other-than-Celestia that it hadn't fallen straight through.
He sat there gasping and sweating as he felt the pain in his head slowly abate. He had never held something so heavy for so long before. His usual magical use was opening doors and levitating books, and he felt the pain from overtaxing his magic deep down in his chest.
After taking several moments to recover, he turned his attention to the plain brown box on his floor. As far as he could see, there were no identifying labels or anything on it. It was just a plain, brown box with his name scribbled on the top in big messy letters.
He frowned. If this was some sort of prank from Applejack , he swore he was going to....
Well, he didn't know what he was going to do. He would have to take time to plot, and scheme, and come up with a way to really make her regret it.
He approached the unassuming box with a frown and peered at it closer, trying to ascertain how on Equestria to open it. It didn't have any flaps, or openings, or anything.
For all intents and purposes, it was just a boring box.
But he knew there was something in it. There was no way it could be that heavy if it was empty!
And it's not like it was made out of something heavy. It was just cardboard. Regular old cardboard.
Cardboard..?
An idea came to him, and a smile slowly grew on his face. If it was just a normal cardboard box, he could just tear it open!
He lit his horn with a flourish, and extended his power forward in preparation of some nice easy-
The box was glowing.
He stepped back with a gasp as the box began to glow in seeming response to his attempt to magically tear it apart. A bright golden light that bounced off the dark colors of his room. There was no apparent source, since the box had no holes or creases or anything that could be leaking it from inside. So, the only explanation was the box itself.
He closed his eyes against the growing light, and then covered his eyes with a hoof when it started to bleed through his eyelids. It was strange, such a bright light should have been hot on his fur; but he didn't feel anything . It was as if the light wasn't there at all.
All of a sudden, after a few moments of standing there in the non-light, it just... stopped.
He saw the light at the corners of his vision fade away, and he lowered his hoof to see what had happened.
The box was open. It was just sitting there, looking to all the world like a plain, brown box with no top.
He set his hoof down on his carpet and approached the box carefully. He moved slowly, unsure if the box was going to suddenly leap out and attack him. He had to be prepared for anything else strange, and he briefly considered finding some sort of weapon.
He crept up to the edge of the box and peered inside, prepared for any number of horrible, terrible things.
It was a letter. A letter laying on top of what looked to be a book of some sort.
The book was brown, with a darker color bordering its spine. It was unassumingly plain otherwise, and he couldn't see anything else noteworthy. The letter was obscuring what he assumed was the title, but he could see a faint sliver of golden writing poking out behind it.
He bit his lip, and levitated the letter out of the box. He didn't dare to look at the title of the book, not yet.
The letter seemed, in a word, old.
It was a very dry, very crisp envelope, and he could make out a faint flowery pattern running throughout it. He levitated it over to his face and took a sniff. He crinkled his nose and levitated it back an inch or so. It smelled like dust.
He turned it over, expecting to find some sort of seal, but it was already open. He briefly wondered if somepony else had already opened it, but discarded the idea. He doubted the box did the glowy thing every time it was opened.
He could see a plain white piece of paper sitting just inside, and he levitated it out.
The paper, in impossible contrast with the envelope, seemed brand new. He could probably run down to the shop and buy a sheet just like it right then and there. He leaned it in for another sniff, and smiled in contentment. It was a pleasant smell, like flowers. He idly wondered how it could smell like that inside such a dusty old envelope, but he put the thought aside with all the other contradictions.
He folded the letter open, and began to read the contents.
The writing was incredibly messy and very hard to make out; seeming almost illegible at times. But he could manage.
Light Flow.
Normally, It is customary to begin a letter with some sort of greeting, followed by pleasantries. However, I have never been one for the meaningless tradition of exchanging empty words with nothing behind them.
Instead, I will skip straight 'to the point' as it were.
You do not know me, and you never will. If I were not soon to be meant for a realm beyond our own, I would take steps to ensure that a meeting between the two of us should never occur.
I shudder to think of such an encounter. The thought makes my skin crawl and my fur itch.
But, that is aside the point; which I seem to have strayed from.
The point, as it would be: is that you are important.
I have gazed into the future, and seen many things.
I see a shadowed monster. I see a fallen Princess. I see a lavender unicorn. I see the end of evil itself.
But above them all, I see you.
You. A small orphan boy from the non-existent town of Ponyville.
Many things have become clear to me in my old age and my extended sight, but you are an unchanging anomaly.
Time seems to have fractured around you for some strange reason. Moving and changing irrationally and without cause. I can see many different futures around you, and the only explanation is that you are the centre.
But one thing, no matter the reason, is constant. And that is the grand state of your destiny.
All futures end with you.
A dark king.
A benevolent prince.
An unfeeling monster.
A caring hero.
Your futures are many, but they are all important.
They are also undeniably dangerous.
I thought of having you removed from the equation. It would be so easy to give an order to have you arrested and executed. I could do it right now.
But it never works. In every possible future, you find a way to escape the fires.
A lucky walk. A soldier's mercy. A frenzied escape. A valiant sacrifice.
In every one, you vow to have revenge.
So I've decided on a course of action. A reckless, unsafe, terrible course of action.
I'm taking a gamble.
In the box that will have been delivered to you exactly one week after the appearance of your cutie mark, there should be a set of two books. There will be more on the way, but they will only arrive exactly when you need them.
This path is the one that has the greatest chance of good without compromising your personal safety.
Don't bother giving any sort of thanks. It would go unheard.
I would ask that you not let me down, but I know there's a high likelihood that you do.
Goodbye.
....
Light Flow blinked.
Light Flow blinked again.
Light Flow was trying to restart his brain, but he seemed to be having trouble.
He finally managed to piece the shattered remains of his mind together, and he found a stray thought floating about inside.
"I don't think this is a prank."
He levitated the discarded envelope over to his side almost absentmindedly, and carefully folded the letter inside. He set it down beside him.
He levitated a pillow over from his bed, and quickly shoved his face into it.
"WHAT?!"
That hadn't helped, like at all.
He took his head out of the cushion and threw it back in the direction of his bed. He stared forward unblinkingly and tried to think rationally.
Okay, so he was destined for great good or great evil. That's great! He was happy, and he couldn't wait to begin his path to darkness.
But what did all that other stuff even mean ?!
Words like 'gamble' and 'destiny' and 'lavender' swirled around his head, and he audibly groaned. He slumped over onto his back, and kicked his hooves out into the air.
Okay. He was fine. Everything was going to be fine. It wasn't as if this changed anything. He had already known he was destined to be the greatest villain Equestria had ever seen!
But the letter said he could also do great good. A hero , it had called him.
He found himself thinking about it. He supposed it wouldn't be so bad to be revered instead of feared.
What did he even want?
Why did he want to be evil?
He sat there, staring at his black ceiling. He sat, and he sat, and then he sat some more.
Eventually, he got tired of sitting. He rolled over and stood up. He could think while he was reading his new books, whatever they were.
He walked over to the box and pulled one of the heavy books out of it with his magic.
He could see the golden writing on the tome now, and he peered closer at the title.
'Necromancy for Foals - Volume 1'
All of the things he was thinking about seemed to drain out of his head.
He felt a large, toothy smile grow on his face unheeded.
Light Flow was happier than he had ever been.
But as his brain restarted, he begun to actually think about the book floating there in front of him.
It was a book on Necromancy. A real, honest-to-deity, book on Necromancy .
Necromancy. The completely forbidden subject that could get you disappeared , just for studying it.
He felt his smile begin to slip away as reality slapped him in the face.
Light Flow was more afraid than he had ever been.
Author's Note
Hey so, here's a twist that's sure to make everyone mad!
I know, I know it's super cliché to have a character destined for greatness. But I've had this planned ever since this was just a dumb little story on AI Dungeon!
I'm sorry if anybody thinks this is uninspired, but if you can't handle something like this, you're never gonna get past what I have planned for the future. I mean seriously, I have twists that i'm sure nobody is gonna see coming.
But anyway, this chapter was easy to write, which is why it came out sooner than I had thought it would. The next chapter is really gonna take a while though. It's unplanned, and out of my comfort zone. The exact opposite of this chapter.
also yes i made a referece to one of my favorite stories sue me about it why don't you
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was, in a word, mystified .
He was standing in front of a tall colorful building near the center of Ponyville. He wore his special black saddlebags at his sides, with their cool angular patterns. He had packed everything he needed for the coming trials, and he felt the items inside weigh heavily on his body.
He stared up at the fancy patterns above the large windows, and the model ponnequins bordering the second floor. His eyes flicked down to the fancy lettering above the door.
Carousel Boutique
He had heard from everypony in town that this was the place to go for clothes. He had thought more about the idea of a cloak, and decided one was absolutely necessary. He knew it was going to be so cool, and he even had a bunch of specifications and details using big words he had looked up in the dictionary.
There was just one sticking point in his head...
This shop was apparently run by a foal.
He didn't really want a cloak made by a foal. But everypony he talked to had assured him that she was some sort of genius.
A seamstress prodigy, they said. He wondered if that was true. He wondered just how good she was.
That wondering had led him here, where he stood in front of a large purple door with two handles for some reason.
The sign in the window read 'open' in big fancy lettering, so he took the top handle in his red magical glow. To his surprise, the bottom handle swung open along with the top one. Though as he gave it more thought, he supposed it would be stupid to have a front door that required two tries to open.
He heard the soft tinkling of a bell, and a high-pitched voice called out from somewhere inside.
"I'm Coming !"
He stepped inside, looking around the dubious shop. It was far more official than he had guessed it to be. Though, he supposed his vision of a shop run by a foal was a little tainted by his general distaste for young ponies.
It didn't matter if he was young, he still didn't like them.
They're just so... messy.
He looked around at the ponnequins and the dresses they displayed. The colorful fabrics cascaded down around each other, and he could see gems sparkling out from multiple places.
They were... nice , he supposed.
He wasn't really into fashion, so he really couldn't say much about them. He turned his attention away from the frills and laces, and looked around at... the frills and laces. There were a lot of materials scattered around. On dressers and tables, and even some on the floor. He guessed the young owner didn't have a lot of time to clean.
Speaking of...
"Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique! How may I help you today sir...."
He heard the rather grating high-pitched voice trail off, and he turned to look at the speaker from where she had descended down a set of stairs he hadn't noticed.
If he had to describe the filly in front of him, in a word, it would be overdone.
Her white fur was immaculate, and he could only guess at the hours of brushing it must have taken. Her short purple mane was curled in a simple fashion, but her tail was wrapped in on itself in what looked to be a complicated styling. Her eyelashes were long and delicate, and her deep purple eyes stared forward at him.
He noticed a horn on her head, and figured that was how she managed to keep up with what he guessed was a maintained level of conventional beauty. Magic made stuff like that really easy.
Not that he would know. His mane steadfastly refused to grow, no matter how he wished it would. It seemed forever destined to swish about just above his line of sight.
Very quickly, his eyes flicked down to her flank, and he caught a glimpse of a triple-gem cutie mark. He quickly returned his eyes to her face. It was considered quite rude to look at a pony's cutie mark without asking, but strangely, it was also quite rude to ask.
He would never understand manners.
Finally, he took a moment to stare down at the orb in her chest.
It was a deep glowing purple, though he caught a glimpse at something deeper inside; just like what he had seen with Applejack. It was also circling around in place, as if trying to show off every bit of itself at once.
He frowned. This was the second time he had seen something like that in a pony's orb. Two completely unconnected ponies with the same strange quality in their soul(?). He could only wonder at what it could mean.
"Excuse me! "
He turned his eyes up to the filly's face, where it was slowly scrunching up in apparent anger.
"If you quite done with your little examination, I would ask that you leave at once! This is a place of business , and I don't have time for little colts trying to look for mischief!"
He waited until she had finished her little tirade, before opening one of his saddlebags to fish a bag of jangling bits out. He shook it in the air using his magic, listening until the subtle jingling stopped, before speaking out in the heavy silence.
"I'm a customer."
Those three little words worked like... well, magic . He watched, unimpressed, as the filly's face almost instantly changed from dark and stormy to bright and pleasant.
He scoffed inwardly. He couldn't believe the two-faced filly in front of him was the hailed sewing prodigy he had heard so much about.
He stood there with his floating bag of bits as the filly spoke up again in that high-pitched voice of hers.
"I'm so sorry sir! Please accept my apologies for my horrid behavior!" She approached him with a pleasant expression and a disarming smile as she spoke, before coming to a stop in front of him.
"My name is Rarity, darling . Would you be so kind as to grace me with your name, now that I have so graciously shared mine?
He internally sighed at the fake syrupy sweetness in that grating voice of hers.
"My name is Light Flow." He replied in his best fake-polite voice. Just in case this really was the fabled sewing prodigy, he wanted to stay on her good side. No use in upsetting a genius.
The filly whose name he hadn't really listened to smiled beautifully at his response.
"Well, Mr. Flow. What is it you need from my humble little shop today? Surely you haven't come for a dress?" She tittered softly at her own joke. It was a horrid sound, he thought. Like little crystals shattering on the floor.
"I've come to commission a cloak, miss. Do you think you can do that?"
The filly's expression seemed to dip at that, and she made a small sound of disbelief.
"A cloak ? As if something so du- Uh, I mean simple ! As if something so simple would be beyond one of my ability. Describe this cloak to me, I will make it happen!"
She seemed unconcerned by her slip-up, as she levitated a nearby pen and paper over to her with light blue magic. She seemed ready to take notes, as if he was just going to rattle off what he wanted at her. He stared at her determined face for a moment before shaking his head.
Some ponies...
He once more opened his saddlebag, and levitated a scroll out as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Actually miss, I've got the details here on this scroll so- ack!"
He let out a cry as the paper was wrested from his grip. He felt her magic brush against his for a moment, and he heard her give a near-inaudible gasp.
The paper flew over to the white filly where she was staring at him wide-eyed. She seemed shocked at something, though it looked as if she recovered quickly. She only stared at him a moment before focusing her attention on the scroll she had so rudely taken from him.
She muttered things under her breath while giving periodic glances back up at him, and he only caught snippets of big words he didn't understand. He hadn't made the instructions too confusing, had he? He had tried to make them as concise as possible, but she was taking far longer than should have been necessary.
He had also included all of his measurements. There was no way he was letting anypony near him with any sort of measuring device.
Finally, she seemed to finish. She turned her head up from the scroll and cleared her throat.
"Yes yes, this should be quite easy, if a bit unorthodox. I should have it finished in no time, though I will require payment up front."
He nodded. That seemed fair. After all, he wasn't exactly her normal clientele, and she had no way of knowing he wouldn't run off with the finished product without paying.
He levitated the bag of one hundred bits over to the filly, and she seemed to hesitate for a moment. She oddly took the bag in her teeth before then levitating it away, and she smiled somewhat... nervously ?
"T-Thank you sir. I have a big order right now, so if you could return in about two weeks' time, that would be lovely."
He polite-smiled at her again, before turning and heading out through the door. He felt it shut rather abruptly behind him, and turned to look at the large object that had just barely missed his tail.
Rude.
He turned his gaze back towards the town as he thought about the filly inside. It was likely that she had made those dresses he had seen, so there was little doubt that she could sew. But he still felt uneasy about his cloak. That filly had probably been the most unpleasant, fake, scheming little ball of sweetness he had ever met.
"I think I like her. I'm gonna have to ask somepony what her name is."
Author's Note
Hey, do you remember when I said It was gonna be a while before the next chapter?
Yeah, that's right, in that chapter I put out like two hours ago.
oops
Well anyway, this was far easier to write than expected. I think I'm also getting some writing mojo back. This chapter felt really good, and I think I actually like my writing for once!
I don't have anything else to say beside my hopes that you guys like it too. Sometimes it feels like I'm screaming into the void or something, so I wouldn't mind some feedback on how I'm doing.
Anything you think I could be doing better, please feel free to point it out. I love criticism.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Celestial Year 993 AB
"I'm tellin' you sugarcube, I just don't see the appeal."
Light Flow groaned in annoyance.
He was trotting alongside a familiar pair of orange hooves, which were connected up to his unfortunate friend, Applejack. The orange pony was currently wearing her hair up in two ponytails which curled down over her neck, and she had a large frown on her face.
He was currently trying to hype her up for their impending trip to the Everfree forest. He hadn't been there since his impromptu trip last year, and he really wanted to find an excuse to visit again.
Unluckily, his friend caught wind of his initial plans, and decided that she couldn't let him 'traipse off' into such a dangerous place.
After a lot of shouting that made his throat hurt and his eyes tingle, Applejack had conceded to his demands; but not without adding a condition.
She wanted to come with him.
He could tell she really didn't want to go, she was just coming along to ensure his safety. But that didn't mean he couldn't try and make her a little excited.
"Orange Hooves, I'm telling you! It's great there! It's really dark, and cold, and quiet, and there are lots of cool creatures living there! Like Timberwolves!" He was really hitting all the bases with that one. There was no way she wouldn't-
"Sugarcube, I don't think there's a single one'a those things that sounds good ..."
His face fell, and he groaned again. He supposed they were just too different. Although....
"Didn't you use to brag all the time about your frequent trips to the forest?"
Her uncertain expression seemed to melt into one of quiet consternation. She quickly stammered out some sort of excuse, but he stopped listening in favor of hiding a smile behind his collar.
He really did love his cloak. He would have to have it refitted at Rarity's soon, but that thought wasn't as horrible as he would have imagined.
Rarity really was a genius. He had been wrong about her, he would admit it. His cloak had been made exactly to his specifications.
He took a moment to look over his apparel. He thought back to all the decisions that had gone into the list of details he gave to the genius seamstress.
He had looked through a book of fabrics and decided on what was called a 'satin weave' turned inside out, so that it wouldn't catch the light. But unfortunately, the inside would still catch a flash of something from time to time. He had been thinking about having the cloak remade in a different, less shiny, fabric, but that would be expensive .
He was also really fond of the way the silky texture felt on his fur. Like he was in bed all the time.
So the matter would wait until sometime else.
The cloak was black on both sides, which rendered him looking rather like a shadow in the daytime. It had a rising collar up to about level with his mouth, which was perfect for hiding mocking faces behind. The collar connected back to a hood laying just behind his head, which he often left up, though he made an exception for talking to Applejack.
The neck was held together by a small, yet sturdy silver chain. If it was really quiet, he could hear it jingle as he walked, which added something very.. needed . It would do well to announce his presence without words.
The entire thing had a dark brown bordering, even around the hood. It was just a couple shades darker than his coat, which he supposed was symbolic. Somehow...
And the finishing touch, the one thing he had been glad Rarity hadn't compromised on, small little grey skulls sewn just above the bordering. He had been positively giddy when he had seen them, though he hadn't let it show to the white seamstress filly.
The whole thing was suppose to come down to just above his hooves, though he was getting a bit too big now, and it only reached down to around his knee. He should really pay a visit to Carousel Boutique....
He was brought out of his reverie when he felt a hoof jab him in the side. He turned an angry glower at the pony beside him.... who was looking off in a different direction. She had some sort of intense stare on her face, but he found it hard to care. He couldn't believe that she had the gall to punch him without even having the decency to look him in the eyes.
He opened his mouth wide, ready to give her a lecture on apparently forgotten decorum; when she whispered something that made him stop.
"Y'all hear that, sugarcube?"
He frowned, and strained his ears to try and hear whatever it was that had her so concerned. Try as he might, he couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary.
They were walking through a little grove of trees on their way to the Everfree forest, so all he could hear were the little chirps of birds and the little rustling sounds of nature. There was literally nothing interesting here at all, so what was getting her in such a fuss?
He groaned, and stomped a hoof on the ground. He just didn't have the time for playing another of Applejack's little games.
"I give up. What is it?"
He couldn't see her face, but the edges of her jaw tightened as she began to trot forward into the small patch of woods.
He watched her wander off with a tired look on his face. He couldn't believe she was doing this again. She always got distracted, always .
He looked up at the morning sky above, and sent a silent prayer to a deity he still didn't know the name of. He lowered his head and followed Applejack into the trees.
He had already lost her in the thick foliage, so he was forced to blunder through like an idiot. He imagined the sight of him. The feared shadow in the daylight, tripping over twigs and stones like a foal just learning to walk.
"Stupid Applejack and her stupid games with their stupid twists and their stupid stupid stupi-"
Did he hear crying?
He was pretty sure he did. A small choking sound coming from somewhere nearby. It sounded like a filly, but he knew it wasn't Applejack.
She cried on the inside apparently.
He followed the sound of the soft crying through the bushes, as he wondered how Applejack could have possibly heard such a subtle noise from where they had been walking. Seriously, it was so quiet, he barely heard it even now.
He slowly pushed his way out through the last bit of brush, and came out into a small clearing in the woods. The sun shone down into the circular clearing, which clearly highlighted the two ponies standing inside.
He saw Applejack, who seemed to be comforting what looked to be a yellow pegasus with a long pink mane.
He couldn't see much from where she was sitting hunched over something, but he could at least see her triple-butterfly cutie mark and her orb.
Speaking of the orb, he had finally settled on just calling them ponies' souls. It seemed the most apt out of all the choices.
Her soul was, unsurprisingly, yellow. It was small, and very dim; like it was trying to make itself as unnoticed as possible. He also caught a flash of something deeper, very close to the center of the sphere. The sphere itself sat there quietly, not really moving at all; quite a bit like the sobbing pegasus it belonged to.
Seriously, she was quiet. He knew she was sobbing by the way her shoulders were shaking, but she was barely making any noise at all. He wondered again how they were able to find her at all.
Applejack and her apparently incredible ears were sitting next to the hunched pegasus, and whispering something soft that he couldn't hear. She was using one hoof to rub the filly's back with slow, broad strokes.
She flicked her eyes over to where he stood, and jerked her head in the direction of the shaking filly next to her. He silently shook his head back. He didn't want anything to do with this stranger.
Applejack's expression did that scary thing where her eyes get all small, and he quickly hurried over.
It's not like he was scared of her..... but she did know a lot more about wrestling than he did. He didn't want to feel his own back hoof touch itself to his head ever again.
Never again.
He reached the other side of the filly, and finally got a good look at what she was hunched over.
It looked to be a small dead mouse.
He didn't see any visible wounds, and it didn't look underfed either. Its soft grey coat was unbroken and plump. So he guessed it was likely sudden sickness or some kind of internal trauma. Maybe blunt force? Poisoning?
He looked over at the filly's face, but it was covered by two yellow hooves, so he couldn't make out any details.
Well. He was here. Now what?
He looked at Applejack over the hunched form of the pegasus, and shrugged his shoulders. Applejack's exasperated face stared back at him, and she mouthed something he couldn't make out.
Seriously, he could never understand why ponies did that. Who could understand stuff like that?
Applejack's face got scary again, and he quickly got the message.
"Hey there. How're you doing?" His voice sounded fake, even to him, and he mentally smacked himself in the face. Real villains should be great at faking emotions, why was he so bad at it?!
He licked his lips and tried again.
"Um... S-So why're you crying?" He felt like jumping off a bridge. It was obvious why she was crying. He saw Applejack roll her eyes at him, and he stuck his tongue out in response. Who was she to make fun of him? It's not like she was-
"B-B-Bec-c-cause Muh .. Mmm .. M-Mr M-Mouse is..is...is..! "
He stared down in surprise at the jumbled reply of the sobbing pegasus. He hadn't actually expected her to answer his dumb question.
He took note of her shaking voice. It was soft, and sweet, sort of like candy. A voice like candy. He had never heard something so disgusting.
He bit his lip, and tried to think of a way to calm her down.
He could... no , that wouldn't work. Oh! He could... no that would probably make her cry more .
Ah!
He leaned his head down to the pegasus and whispered. "Hey ... Hey there Candy Voice. Look at me. Come on , just look at me real quick alright? I've got something to tell you."
He waited until a pair of wet, teal eyes peered out of their yellow hiding place. He gave her a smile that he really didn't feel, and put on his best 'wise' voice.
"Now listen Candy Voice. You're sad because your little animal friend is dead, yeah?" He saw her give a flinch at the word 'dead' but she nodded her head even as she shook harder.
He sighed internally, and wished his mother was here. She always knew what to do when a foal was crying.
"Now I know you're sad, really sad. Probably sadder than you've ever been, huh? Well, let me give you a little lesson on death." He placed his hoof on her withers as he spoke, and felt how much she was shaking. She was really broken up about this.
"Death... Everypony always says that death is....the end . But I've never seen it like that. I'm not gonna say something cliché like 'what comes after is better' or something. I'm just going to say that I... I don't really think anything really dies."
"I've always sort of thought that.. when ponies, or animals, or any creature dies, they just.. get.. repurposed ."
He saw Applejack's mouth gape open, and she shot a harsh glare at him. He continued on. She didn't know where he was going with this, so she really shouldn't start judging.
"What I mean by that is... Um ... When something dies, eventually... their bodies decompose, or some other animal comes along and eats them, right? Well.. I've always thought that... in a way.. That is a form of living."
The pegasus had lowered her hooves at this point, and was baring her soft yellow face to the world. Teary teal eyes had unfocusedly trained themselves on him, and he felt the pressure immensely. This was the kind of situation she was going to remember for the rest of her life, he supposed.
Why did this have to be him?
"So... when a creature dies.. nature takes over, right? And... and that's the way it's supposed to be . Eventually, we are all meant to die, and leave our current existence behind. So... in a way... it's just like.. moving on to our next stage of life. A stage where.. where we help the world in more... uh.. subtle ways. Therefore, it is a type of living... which can't be a bad thing..?"
He finished his tirade unsteadily. He wasn't really sure where those words had come from, but they seemed to be having an effect.
The pegasus was busily wiping her eyes with a hoof while sniffling quietly, and he could see the shaking in her body start to lessen.
"W-Well, um, that didn't really.. help... But I guess I feel.... better?" The pegasus spoke again in a voice that was still sort of warbily, but far improved from before.
He cheered internally, and shot the frowning Applejack a victorious glare. Shows what she knows about calming crying ponies!
Applejack's frown slipped off her face as she leaned her head down to whisper softly into the pegasus' ear. He had to strain to hear, but it sounded like she asked for the stranger's name.
The pegasus took a moment to reply, still sniffling and occasionally glancing down at the dead mouse.
"I'm... My name is... uh .. well .. that is, to say... I'm Fluttershy.. "
Wow. This pony was quiet . The way she tripped and stammered over her inaudible words was, in a word, astonishing. He hadn't ever met someone this shy.
Wait....
Damn it! He hadn't been listening to her name! He had really been trying to work on that bad habit, but every time somepony told him their name, he just... lost it.
He got distracted by a bird, or their soul, or their face, or the sun, or his plans for the day, or something . He always missed it!
Luckily, both other ponies were too distracted by each other to see him smack himself in the face. Applejack turned her head up to him just as his hoof fell back to the ground. She looked a little concerned at the red hoof-mark on his forehead, but she seemed to brush it off.
"I'm gonna walk Fluttershy here back to her.. er.. well, to the ground beneath her home. You should head back too sugarcube, and don't even think about going off to them woods without me, y'hear?!"
He groaned audibly, and nodded his head. He couldn't do much about this. There was no stopping Applejack when there was a pony in need, much to his frustration. He just wished she would be a little less kind.
Applejack and the pegasus-whose-name-he-had-missed-again were still talking quietly, so he turned around and made his way to the edge of the clearing. If Applejack wasn't going to let him go to the Everfree today, he would just go home.
He flipped his hood up over his head as he exited from the proverbial scene. Now he just had to think of something cool to exit out on. He hid a secret smile as he found the perfect phrase.
'He had better things to do than hang around somepony so shy they couldn't even face death.'
"Nailed it."
Author's Note
Almost forgot to make this note.
Probably because I don't have anything to say.
Ah well..
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Celestial Year 996 AB
Applejack didn't really know how to feel.
When she heard the news that Light Flow's mother had passed away, she was sad of course. But her first thought hadn't been of the recently departed, it had been of her strange friend.
Light was... an interesting pony to be around.
Was interesting a good word for it? Maybe distant was better?
She just didn't know. He was just...
He always seemed so sad about something.
She didn't really blame him though. From what she had seen, he lived a pretty sad life. Always alone, always trotting off somewhere to 'read'.
That's what he was always doing, reading. He had once tried to share his 'books' with her, but....
Those things were the most horrible reading she had ever seen.
She had no idea how he read those things all the time. They were so depressing, she had crawled into bed and slept for a whole day! Of course Granny didn't like that, and then she had to do a bunch of chores. So basically, it was all those books' fault.
They were so terrible she had even begun to suspect that he wasn't really reading them, and that they were just an excuse to get away from her.
Which was pretty much why she had stuck around in the first place.
When she had met him all those years ago, she had really just felt bad for him. He had bumped his head on something, and seemingly just wandered to the library. She had been there picking up something for Big Macintosh, some sort of poetry book.
She had noticed the poor thing just standing around in the entrance, and after confirming that he was injured, she had done exactly what Granny had told her was polite. She had taken him to the farm and wrapped up the bump on his head and sent him home.
She hadn't given him much more thought. Just a quiet stranger who she had helped once.
But then she had seen him at school. And he was just sitting there all alone, reading those horrible books. Looking like he didn't even belong in the world around him.
......
She really didn't know how they were still friends.
But none of that was important right now.
Right now it was time for a funeral.
The funeral was a small affair. It was held in the Town Hall, since they didn't have a church. Granny always thought that was 'shameful' for some reason. She had been petitioning for a while now to have one built, but the mayor always said there 'weren't enough funds.'
The tall wooden walls had big black banners hung all over, and a sad tune drifted crackily out of a gramophone in the corner.
Not many ponies came, just her family and a few well-wishers. The only ponies she recognized were the librarian and some of the local vendors. But there was one pony whose absence spoke volumes.
Light Flow wasn't there.
From where she was seated next to Granny in the front, she could see with absolute certainty that the quiet brown pony was nowhere to be seen. The black seats set up in rows were only about a third of the way filled up, but Light wasn't in any of them.
She bit her lip as the Mayor walked out to stand in front of the closed black coffin at the front of the room. Where could he be? He was going to miss the funeral at this rate...
The ceremony started with little fanfare.
The Mayor spoke first. She said a few words about the departed, but not much since she hadn't known her personally. Then she opened the floor for anypony to speak.
One by one, some ponies came up to say things about the deceased. She bowed her head as she listened to the teary goodbyes and the heartfelt condolences. She hadn't really known Light's mother very well at all, just a few passing words whenever she went to go see her friend.
Speaking of her friend, he was still nowhere to be seen.
Eventually, ponies stopped coming up to speak, and the Mayor made a last call for words.
She looked over at her Granny beside her. She had her head bowed in reverence, and was speaking silent prayers under her breath.
She took a deep breath and stood up. She made her way to the front of the room, next to the closed coffin with the dead pony inside.
Her eyes might have lingered there for longer than was necessary.
She reached the front of the room and looked out at the mostly empty chairs. It was so sad that there were so few ponies here.
It was all so sad. So sad.
So familiar.
She opened her mouth to speak.
That had been two days ago.
And she still hadn't seen Light Flow.
After the funeral, she had gone by his house. He wasn't there. She went inside to check, in case he just wasn't answering her. She had gone into that freaky black room of his, and his freaky black bed's covers were still made. She guessed he hadn't been home at all.
She hadn't known where else to look at the time, so she had gone home to wait it out. But she had an idea now.
His mother's burial had taken place yesterday, and she had been buried in Ponyville Graveyard, as per her request.
She had never gone to the Graveyard before, since all of the Apple family was buried on the farm, so she had to ask directions.
It was a relatively small graveyard. Ponyville had never had many residents, and while she didn't know a lot about pegasi burial habits, she did know they didn't enjoy the thought of being entombed. Apparently the thought of spending their eternity underground was 'horrible' or something.
She never understood it, there was too much of a cultural gap. She couldn't say that she loved the idea of being buried, but it's not as if she was averse to the idea. She just didn't like thinking about dying. Who did?
A frown grew on her face. She bet Light did.
Her thoughts had strayed at some point. She couldn't remember what she had been talking about.
She knew she needed to find Light Flow.
The pony that she knew was so much like her, in all those ways he was so unlike her.
She arrived at the menacing iron gate to the Ponyville Graveyard.
He was there. Of course he was there.
She had found him sitting in front of his mother's grave, a plain white gravestone with no special features whatsoever.
He looked awful. Really truly awful .
That weird coat he always wore was ragged and torn in a few places. She could see specks of dirt on it, and guessed his fur didn't look much better. He wore his hood up, so she couldn't actually see anything besides the strange black coat.
He was hunched over silently in front of the white slab, looking tiny in comparison.
Applejack really, truly did not know how to feel.
She licked her lips, before admonishing herself. She really didn't want to start picking up Light's habits.
"Um" She surprised herself with her voice. She hadn't even been planning to say anything, but it just sort of fell out.
Well, she figured she should back that 'um' up with something.
"Hey sugarcube. How're you doing? I've been pretty worried about you... Uhm ... How come you didn't come to the funeral?"
He had been silent until she said the word 'funeral', and a small sigh emanated out from the hooded figure at the mention.
A hollow, broken voice echoed out from behind the coat, and it sent shivers down her spine. It sounded as if he hadn't had a drink in days. Had he been eating? Where had he been ?!
"Funeral...? "
Applejack smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it. Maybe it was just to make herself feel better about the impending difficult conversation.
"Yeah, sugarcube. Your.. uh.. your mom's funeral... It was two days ago, and you didn't show up, sugarcube. Where were y'all?"
She swore she could hear the creaking of bones as the figure shifted slightly. The ghostly voice echoed off the gravestone in front of them.
"What would have been the point...? "
She started at the response. The.... point ...?!
"What'd'you mean the point ?! It was yer mom's funeral !"
Light turned toward her a little more, and she caught a glimpse of matted brown fur.
"Applejack. "
Her eyes widened.
Had he just called her....?
He had never .....
"Why is it that you hang around me so much? "
Applejack was still trying to process his use of her actual name, so her mind connected to her mouth and automatically blurted out what it found first.
The honest truth.
"Pity."
She gasped immediately, and tried to cover up her reckless response.
"Uh! T-That's not what I-"
"I see."
The figure creaked as it stood from where it was hunching, and it turned to face her even as she tried to stammer out an explanation.
His voice was like a whisper, but it rang loud all the same.
"It's okay, Applejack. It was obvious, really. I don't mind. "
"Because I'm going to make everything better. I'm going to fix it. "
"But there's something I need you to do. Something important. "
He hobbled over to where Applejack was standing, petrified.
She didn't know why, she couldn't explain it for the life of her. Every cell in her body was screaming something at her as the shadowy figure hobbled closer. She tried to deny it, but she knew all the same.
Applejack was afraid.
Light's unnaturally red eyes shone through the rim of his hood, and she could see dark purple smoke trailing from the edges.
"I want you to leave me alone, Applejack. "
"Don't talk to me anymore. "
"Don't come by my house anymore. "
"Don't even think about me anymore. "
"I don't ever want to see you again. "
"Do you understand me? "
Applejack couldn't breathe.
She couldn't understand what Light was saying to her, it was like he was speaking another language in that quiet voice of his.
He was so close to her now, and she could taste his scent on the air. He smelled like...!
Her mouth seemed to be devoid of all moisture, and she smacked her lips a few times to try and muster up the strength for a reply.
But before she could, she felt a horrible feeling in her chest. A terrible, rending feeling deep in her inner being. It felt like she was dying.
She wanted to get away..!
She heard that voice again, so quiet. So still.
"Now that you understand, you can do something else for me. "
He leaned in close enough that she could smell the same scent on his breath, and all Applejack could see were those big red eyes, trailing that purple smoke.
"Run."
Applejack ran.
Light Flow was fine.
Light Flow was better than fine actually.
He made his way away from the graveyard feeling better than he ever had.
Sure his head hurt and his eyes itched, but that didn't matter. So many things were opening up to him now.
He was finally rid of all distractions, and he could truly begin his work for the first time in his life.
He knew what had to be done.
He had a box to dig up.
Author's Note
Well.
Here's that chapter that was foreshadowed.
How about that?
Real story progression!
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow may not have been all there at the moment.
He had confronted Applejack at the cemetery, where he knew she would come to find him. She was really easy to predict like that, always so eager to do the right thing. It was obvious that she would look for him when he didn't show up at...
Anyway.
He had planned on calmly telling her why hanging around him was dangerous and that she should distance herself for the sake of her and her family. But when he had asked his opener, and she had..... She had said that thing ... and he ....
Anyway.
He had left the cemetery. The itching in his eyes had eventually abated, and his head cleared as he made his way to his house.
His house...
He tried not to think about it. He focused every fiber of his being on thinking of literally anything else.
His house. Where he lived. Alone.
And that was fine. Everything would be fine. He would make everything fine.
Anyway.
He tried not to look at the ponies around him as he passed. He could only guess what they thought of him, wearing a ragged and torn robe that smelled like literal death.
He bumped into a passing pony, and mumbled out an apology. He didn't feel comfortable out here, out in the open.
Among the living.
He hurried away from Ponyville's center, and towards his home.
Houses passed by him rapidly, and his worn-down cloak billowed in the breeze as he galloped forward. He just wanted to get to his house, get his box, and get back to the comforting depths of the Everfree Forest.
It had been there for him when he had needed it. It had welcomed him with open... branches?
It had welcomed him with open branches, and given him a place to go when his... when his mother...
Anyway.
He arrived at his house. He tried not to look at it too much as he circled around back.
In his backyard, there wasn't really much of anything to look at actually. Some gardening tools and a couple flowers.
He tried not to think about where the flowers had come from.
Anyway, he floated a nearby shovel over to him. He walked over to a specific spot that had been cleverly marked by two orange flowers and began digging into the dirt.
It didn't take long, he hadn't buried it too deep.
Very soon, all too soon, a medium-sized brown-colored box was unearthed.
He took it from the hole, and left his house behind.
The Everfree welcomed him like an old friend.
It was comforting, in a way. Hidden there underneath the familiar darkened leaves of the cursed forest. Nopony was there to look at him, or talk to him, or..... ask him about things...
It was just him.
Him and the shadows.
He had spent the last two days here. And he was planning to spend quite a few more beneath the dim leafy skies. He wasn't ready to go home yet.
He had bought some bread and bottled water before he left town and slipped them into the box with the other stuff, so he wouldn't be lacking for supplies. He had almost gone inside the house for free food, but he just...
He couldn't be there right now.
It was odd though. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since.....
Well, the point was that he should be feeling hungry, or at least thirsty. But he wasn't?
He supposed it was the shock. That was the only explanation that made sense.
Logic was really the only thing that was keeping him grounded at this point. He was smart enough to see that he was drifting, and he was due to snap any moment now.
But until then, he wasn't going to just sit around mourning.
He levitated the medium sized box behind him as he walked, and idly noted that it should have been much harder to lift. He supposed it had been a few years since he had last tried. Though it wasn't like he had grown especially magically strong since then.
His hair was much like his magic. It had barely changed from its previous length, even despite all of his attempts to make it grow. The reddish brown growth on his head just didn't want to change.
At least his height hadn't remained stunted like his hair. He had grown to quite a comfortable height, and he stood at about level with most adults.
Considering he was only fourteen, he guessed he would end up fairly tall.
This was good. He had gone almost three minutes without thinking about...
Damn.
While he was mentally admonishing himself for being an idiot , he finally came to a familiar sight.
A little bed he had made out of bits of leaves and moss he had found. It was nestled into the base of an especially large tree, right into the visibly overgrown roots. The tree had pretty much been his main way of finding this place again, which was mostly why he had settled here. Near his bed's side there lay another familiar sight.
"Hey there friend..."
He murmured to the Timberwolf softly from where it was laying near his bed, and it raised its strange wooden head. It opened its terrifying green maw, and made a noise not unlike a tree falling, which he assumed was supposed to be a strange facsimile of a yawn.
Its wooden body creaked as it laid its head back down on its likely uncomfortable wooden paws.
Seriously, how did it sleep like that? Did it even sleep? Did it just sit there?
"Glad you stuck around." He muttered quietly as he picked his way over the large roots of the tree. He settled down into the relatively plush material, and glanced over at the erstwhile beast turned reluctant friend.
He hadn't been surprised to find the Timberwolf when he had come into the woods two days ago. Creatures like that tended to imprint on ponies, though it was usually a predator/prey situation.
He had guessed that it was the same Timberwolf he had met all those years ago, and he was probably right. After the wooden beast had tracked him down in his delirious state, it had just sort of sat near him as his world fell apart.
He didn't think he could ever repay it for that.
He set the box into the cleft behind his bed as he got comfortable. He was going to be sitting there for a while yet, so he wanted to make sure he was ready for what came next.
After searching his environment once again and stealing a glance at the seemingly napping wooden wolf, he levitated a familiar brown-colored book out of the box behind him.
He briefly flicked his eyes over the title before cracking the book open.
"Four years in the making."
Four years in the making of GARBAGE!
He groaned in extreme frustration as he looked up from his attempts to decipher the needlessly complex writing of the beginners tome on Necromancy in his hooves. He had no idea how long he had been reading, but it felt like an eternity.
"Who even titled this?! 'Necromancy for Foals' my fat butt! No foal could read something like this!"
His angered voice rang loudly in the otherwise dead-silence of the forest. His friend perked a wooden ear, and he scoffed at the sight. As if it actually listened with those things. It was probably just mimicking behaviour it had seen from other animals.
But back to the book, it was a load of garbage !
It was a horrible mix of foal-level instructions, indecipherable magical lingo, diagrams, and stuttering prose that would make any modern-ponish student vomit in disgust.
It was so. hard. to. read.
He wanted so badly to throw the book into a hole somewhere and let it rot. But it was his only source of Necromantic learning, so he had to suffer through it.
Why couldn't his mysterious benefactor have given him something straightforward?
He couldn't believe he had waited so long to read this drivel.
From what he could glean from its insufferable pages, it was a book covering the theory of Necromancy. What wasn't horribly confusing was incredibly enlightening.
Apparently, he had been correct about ponies' souls. That's what the orbs were. The literal manifestation of a pony's entire being, condensed into a small orb.
Apparently, you could tell a lot about a pony by their soul, but that particular part of the book was especially vague yet verbose. So he had put that aside for now.
He needed to work his way up. Get a feel for the vernacular, the pacing, the subtleties of the writing. He spent almost all of his time reading, so he was basically an expert.
No rush.
He had all the time in the world.
Author's Note
Well here's another chapter.
The next one for real probably won't come out for a while. And if not that one, then the one after.
Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!
I'm tired. ~_~
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Chapter 15 - The Knowledge
Light Flow was beginning to understand.
He had been reading for a long time now, though in a different way from earlier, when it had just felt like it had been a long time. He really had been reading for a very long period of time, but it was hard to know exactly how long.
He slept, at some point. He wasn't sure how long he slept or even when he had fallen asleep, but he at least knew he eventually woke up. It was pretty much impossible to tell what time it was, here in the forest where the trees blotted out the sun.
He ate some stale bread and drank some bottled water. He wasn't really hungry, and it all tasted like nothing on his tongue, but it was pretty much habit at this point.
He continued reading.
It was incredibly fascinating. He wished he could take back everything he had said and thought and screamed about the book. It was nothing short of brilliant .
What he had seen before as a mess of incomprehensible garbage, he now saw as the nuanced teaching that it really was. The soft childish words were meant to bring the harsh screeching of the magical lingo down to an understandable level. They created a sort of tell-tale pattern that made it easy to analyze and absorb information quickly and efficiently.
The many diagrams weren't meant to show what the words were explaining, they told a different story of their own. One would need to look at them completely separately from the words to understand what they were saying. And oh did they say so much .
The sickening prose was....
Okay the writing flow was still pretty bad, but everything else was getting better; and he was learning so much.
A pony's soul was sort of the coding structure for their whole being. It made up all of the small bits and pieces that comprised the thoughts and feelings and personality of a pony. This was why they all seemed so different from each other, all shining different lights with their different movements and mannerisms. They were directly tied to a pony's inner self.
Apparently, the writer of this book had some sort of philosophy on what that meant. That a soul would always show a pony's true being, no matter how they acted. Like some sort of metaphorical mirror.
Light didn't really know if he believed that.
But other parts of the book were more based in facts, rather than the theoretical.
Like the part where it went into more detail on how Necromancy was achieved. Apparently, on a pony's death, their soul was completely wiped; and sent to some place called the Underworld. The writer only knew of the Underworld through legends and myths, but that wasn't the important part anyway.
The important part was knowing about what happened to a pony on the occasion of their death. A suitably prepared and skilled Necromancer could use an ability the book called 'Soul Snatching' to catch the soul before it disappeared.
The book referred to Volume 3 for more information on this ability, much to his chagrin.
But back to the point. If a Necromancer could catch this departed soul, they could use it for many different apparently helpful purposes. They could be used for resurrection, healing, hurting, over-writing, even eating.
That last one put weird images in his head, and he tried not to think about it.
But of course he thought about it anyway. WHAT DID THAT MEAN?!
So Necromancers could eat souls, okay. Did it require a spell? Could he just do it ? Did all Necromancers do it? Was it a common practice? How did they taste? Did they taste good? They had to taste good if all Necromancers did it, right? What was their texture? He bet they were smooth. Did the taste vary on soul? Were they hard to eat? Did you cut them into pieces, or swallow them whole? Were they even consumed through natural means? What benefits did they give?
Endless questions flickered through his mind. He wanted to try it, so bad.
But that could wait until later. He tried to focus on the more practical uses for souls, all the while thinking about the logistics of soul consumption in the back of his head.
Souls were mainly used to resurrect corpses by filling the gap where their soul used to be. This process could apparently be very difficult depending on what kind of undead the Necromancer was intending to create. A blank soul could just be shoved into any old corpse, but that would create an inferior undead with little to no abilities. Really just a shell on strings, as it were.
But a blank soul was nothing but a canvas to a Necromancer.
Necromancers had the unique ability to peer into the innermost reaches of a soul's contents. Into the farthest fathoms of the unknowable depths of a pony's being. The very core of what made a pony what they were.
And they could grasp the ethereal strands of the building blocks that made up their existence. Switching and changing variables. Altering and adding lines of magical and biological code to fabricate new thoughts and feelings. Introducing an entire new personality to an otherwise empty shell.
That was true Necromancy. Altering souls at a molecular level to create a new form of life.
He marveled at the differences between fiction and reality. His books always made Necromancy out to be as easy as just using magic on corpses, and 'flash' , an undead!
But there was so much more nuance than that! The dumbing down involved was similar to saying eating was as simple as putting stuff in your body.
....
Okay, that was a horrible metaphor. Thinking about it, he never really had much luck with those. Any sort of apt comparison in his head didn't really make sense when spoken out loud. Like that time he had compared love to prison.
Boy, that had made Applejack mad.
Applejack...
He licked his lips, and focused on the book again.
This process of creating new life in a soul was apparently incredibly tedious and time-consuming, especially if one was trying to make a complete soul. This was usually unadvised, since complete construction like that was only necessary if one was looking to create a soul that functioned exactly as a real one would.
Oh well. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy a challenge.
He had pretty much drained everything immediately useful out of the first book a while ago, and he was well into the second book at this point. They were both on the main points of theory, and he guessed there wouldn't be anything on actual spellcrafting.
But that was okay. He had been assured that those would come later. And what was more trustworthy than a mysterious letter from an unknown sender who pontificated on the ease of his potential assassination?
Nothing was, that's what.
Anyway, regular undead were apparently pretty worthless. They would follow simple commands, like 'go there' or 'do this', but that was pretty much the limit. Anything sufficiently advanced would have to be accounted for in the coding of the soul.
Like the ability to use magic. Unicorn's magic was the most obvious, but pegasi and earth ponies had magic too. And if it wasn't specifically allowed for, they wouldn't be able to fly or enhance their strength or anything.
That was pretty much all he had been able to figure out on the topic of soul manipulation. It was pretty complex, and he wasn't sure he had even completely understood some topics. He was glad he had the ability to re-read things. It would be pretty awful if he never got the chance to read these ever again.
He smacked himself in the face. The pain brought him back to Equus from where he had apparently been vacationing in Stupidville , and he immediately began to regret what he had just thought.
He was extremely familiar with tropes in literature, and saying something like that was bound to bring nothing but misery. He would have to make sure to defend his books with great aplomb, just in case reality decided to throw a 'fuck-you' bomb at him.
He shifted uncomfortably on his soft moss bed, and glanced over at his Timberwolf friend. He was sure that nothing would bother him while his wooden protector was here, but that didn't stop him from feeling uneasy. He bit his lip, before busying himself with a quick review of information from an earlier part of the book in a transparent attempt at taking his mind off of it.
The storage of souls was easy, somewhat impossibly. Any regular jar could be enchanted to do the job just fine, though apparently there was some sort of Necromantic spell for storing mass amounts of souls easily and handily. Again, the book referred him to a different volume, though it didn't specify.
Which was really weird. There was just a footnote that said 'See: other volume.' in tiny letters. What kind of a reference did that? It was obviously vague, but it was also just dumb.
Really though! It was just about as helpful as writing 'look somewhere else, stupid', except that would have at least made him laugh a little. This was just unhelpful, and somehow more insultingly, it was boring.
He was getting distracted again.
The book was frighteningly unhelpful on how one actually went about enchanting a jar for storing a soul. Again, he would guess that the topic was covered in a future volume. He was getting really sick of the roadblocks, but he supposed everypony had to start somewhere.
And if he had to start somewhere, basic theory and method was as good a place as any.
He dimly realized that it was strange that he wasn't weirded out about anything he had read. Normally, the idea of literally grasping a pony's soul in his hooves and metaphorically shaking it like a cocktail would render him feeling both queasy and ashamed. But he really only felt a strange sort of fulfillment, shadowed by a dull throbbing sadness.
One of those feelings was weighing on him heavily, and it wasn't the one he got from fulfilling his dreams.
He had gone through nearly all of the information available to him now. He would give the books more attention later, he supposed. Some things were bound to become clearer if he just spent enough time deliberating on them.
He closed Volume 2 with an air of finality, the 'thump' of the closing pages sounding like a terrible crash to his neglected ears.
He levitated it away from his view and into the box behind him. He had nestled the box into a hollow in the great tree, which would help hide it from anypony who would manage the impossible task of finding this place.
Just in case, he stuffed some nearby leaves into the cleft. He had really made himself paranoid.
He sighed, and put his legs underneath him in preparation of the laborious task of standing up. His bones creaked noisily and he felt a deep pain in his body as his unused joints desperately tried to keep up with his sudden relocation. He hadn't really moved in who-knows how long, so the pain wasn't really surprising.
It was almost refreshing, in a way. Sort of mind cleansing, really.
Listening to his muscles snap and his bones creak as he stretched reminded him of his wooden friend, and he looked over at it. The unliving creature was staring at him with those solid green eyes, and he took a moment to stare back. He quickly busied himself with preparations to leave, however. He simply didn't have the time to have any sort of emotional moment with the creature he knew wouldn't reciprocate.
There weren't really many preparations to make, though. He finished off the really stale bread, since he didn't want it sitting around molding. He left the water bottle in the box with his books, since it's not like it was going to go bad or anything.
He hadn't really brought anything else. Just the box and some bread. 'Preparations' was pretty much his way of fooling himself into wasting time.
He knew he couldn't sit around here in the isolated forest forever. He had to face what lay in wait eventually.
He had to go home.
Author's Note
Here's a big infodump chapter!
All the people who signed on for cool undead shenanigans are probably heaving a huge sigh of relief right about now.
"Finally! Moving away from the boring slice of life stuff!"
Well guess what, loyal reader? Next chapter is a return to form! HAHAHAHAHAH!
No but seriously, we'll have more of this eventually.
I really enjoyed writing this chapter actually! It was pretty hard to come up with lore on the spot, but I managed. This was the kind of thing I had wanted to write when I started out, but I got sidetracked with creating and expanding my character and his thoughts and emotions and mannerisms. Oh well!
I keep on repeating myself, but I really mean it this time. I'm gonna have a lot less time to write from now on, so instead of about a chapter a day, it's gonna be more like a chapter every two or three days. Maybe even more. I dunno! Hopefully I'll keep my great zeal for writing, and use all my free time doing nothing but. Because that's super healthy, right?
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was feeling a considerable amount of dread.
After leaving his sanctuary hidden in the depths of the Everfree Forest, he had made his way back into Ponyville. He had dragged his hooves the entire way, and distracted himself any way he could, but there was simply no putting it off.
Oh wait, what was he saying? Of course he could put it off.
From where he was just sort of loitering around in front of some café, he could do some excellent pony watching. His ragged cloak and strange smell were attracting some gawkers, but it didn't bother him quite as much as it had before. The ponies staring at him were wide open to being stared at themselves, after all.
Even if they were beginning to look scared.
But he barely saw the wide eyes and the tense postures. He had something a little more tangible in sight.
Well, it was actually quite a bit less tangible, but his metaphor still made sense! Though it pretty much had the opposite meaning of what he had intended. It wasn't even really clear what he was talking about really, and if he was actually trying to explain it to another pony he was sure they would be quite confused. Or they would just think he was crazy, since It wasn't like they would understand his words even if he was explaining it correctly. Maybe he could find the time to create some sort of informational packet to give to like-minded ponies. Were there even like-minded ponies out there? He supposed it would be pretty improbable that there wouldn't be. Maybe he could make some sort of grand trip around Equestria to collect underlings and comrades, and eventually establish some sort of Necromancer's Alliance?
He stowed the idea away for later, and belatedly realized he had somehow strayed very far away from his point.
He was looking at souls , damnit!
From his place in his lonely iron chair at his lonely iron table, he had quite a good view at the ponies sitting at the less lonely table in front of him. The gawkers he had been staring at had all been scared off by his unblinking dark visage, which he supposed was a good thing. Intimidation was key, or something suitably ridiculous.
He set his hooves on the table and tried to peer closer at the ponies. He probably looked really creepy all hunched over like that, but he didn't even kind of care. He had given up on maintaining a socially acceptable appearance when he chose to spend three days sitting around in a forest.
The ponies' souls were becoming very interesting to look at. They had always been pretty fascinating, but he had sort of tuned them out after a year or two. Just the same old shiny things in the same old uninteresting ponies.
But now that he understood the genetic makeup of souls a little better, he was beginning to recognize some patterns within the mysterious colorful spheres.
The certain ways that some parts of them moved were reminiscent of what the book had said were deliberate patterns. Souls were obviously all different, but at their most base levels they all had the same makeup. Layers of genetic and magic code that were always in the same generic configuration. Sure, that configuration could differ in trillions of tiny small ways, but the overall product always followed something predetermined.
He took a moment to lean back off the table and wonder something. He knew animal souls looked pretty much the same as a pony's, but they probably had a bunch of differences. The books didn't really say anything about it, which he supposed was fine; but his inquisitive mind was burning with the unanswered questions.
He would have to get his hooves on a pony soul and an animal soul so he could compare.
He had actually been really looking forward to holding a soul in his own two hooves. It was one thing to have his hooves near a soul, like that one time he had talked Applejack into doing something that was apparently very uncomfortable for her.
But he could only wonder at the feeling of actually touching one. Would it be smooth? Would it be warm? Did he have to keep a firm grip on it, or would it just stick around once he had made contact? He wanted to know so bad.
But he obviously couldn't do any of that right now. It's not like he could just rip a soul out of somepony's chest, right? The book had said that there was a spell for it, so obviously it was required. There was just no way for him to get a soul right now.
No matter how much he wanted one.
He eyed the tantalizing orb floating in the pony only a few hoof-lengths in front of him. He quickly licked his lips, before just slightly biting down on them. The pain was helping him focus, but it was still very tempting. He could hear his thoughts trying to convince him, whispering assurances and methods and plans in his ears.
He bit his lip harder, and he tasted blood in his mouth. It was getting loud...!
He could have it. He could take it right now. He could just reach out and have it. All to himself forever and ever all for him. Nopony would stop him, it's not like it was illegal or anything. There wasn't any law against stealing souls, and it wasn't even actually stealing. It was basically his birthright, he was born to do stuff like that. Nopony could stop him really, he could just hide in the forest for the rest of his life if he needed to. Him and his trees and his books and his dog and his soul. Warm and pretty and glowing and moving just for him to look at. He could have all that if he just stopped being such a baby and took it. Just take it, just TAKE IT!
Amidst all the screaming in his head, one lonely thought rose up above the din.
"I have to get out of here."
The table rattled slightly and the chair screeched as Light Flow bolted away from it. He got more odd looks, but he completely disregarded them. He heard blood roaring in his ears, a river of white noise preventing him from putting any sort of rational thought together.
His eyes were beginning to itch again, like back at the cemetery. It was a deep scratching feeling that just made him wish he had claws instead of hooves. The edges of his vision were getting blurry, and he had to blink repeatedly to clear them. He didn't think he was crying?
He closed his eyes, which was probably a pretty bad idea while he was running, but he didn't care.
He just kept seeing what he could've done there. What he could have accomplished . The pretty colors of a real soul in his strangely red hooves. The wonderful vibrant dancing amidst a backdrop of scarlet. Like a performer on a stage, acting out a show just for him to the piercing tune of terrified screams.
He quickly left the cafè behind, trying not to think about what he had been tempted to do.
What he had almost done.
As Light Flow quickly scampered away from the small building, he had no way of knowing what he was inadvertently running from. A danger lurking just behind him, in the most obvious of places.
A pair of guarded cerulean eyes carefully watched him leave. Slowly tracking his hurried movements as he left for the Residential District.
A cream-furred body rose from a seat at the table just behind where he had been sitting, and moved to follow him.
He was calming down, sort of.
The thoughts were finally fading from memory. Flowing away from his overtaxed mind like blood in a river.
Okay, metaphors like that weren't helping.
But he really was feeling better. His eyes didn't itch, and his heart had stopped racing a while ago. He was just walking down the street adjacent to the Residential District. It was probably helping that there weren't any ponies on the streets due to the relatively late hour. It let him revel in the familiar comfort of being alone.
Alone. Draped in the orange fineries of the setting sun. The flaming colors dancing across the dirt paths and framing his uncertain gait with long, dark shadows. Like a solitary blot of darkness in an otherwise uniform sea of light.
Speaking of, he could have sworn his shadow was moving out of sync with him, but he wasn't entirely sure it was actually happening. Just little differences in how it moved. He flicked his eyes down, and watched his two-dimensional copy rear up with what appeared to be a knife grasped in its hoof, before stabbing itself in the chest. He blinked, and his shadow had returned to trotting alongside him.
Okay so he was hallucinating now. He should probably see a doctor about that.
It wasn't anything too debilitating though, especially since he could still tell something was wrong. It could wait until he stopped being able to separate his imagination from reality.
Putting his imminent mental disorders aside, he was getting close to the object of his journey. The very place he had been running so desperately from.
He could see it now, framed almost perfectly by the setting sun. It was as if a great orange monster had come to consume the last dregs of his old life. Forever rendering him unable to reconcile with who he used to be. A rather fitting metaphor for the never-ending passage of time, he idly supposed. For even though the sun and moon may rise and fall again, they could never again return to the days and nights they had passed. Forced to forever herald a new dawn and dusk, whether they wanted to or not.
He hated how symbolic all of this was. He should have come at noon or something.
But he was here, and he didn't really want to risk another mental breakdown, so he had to confront his feelings now.
His house was directly in front of him now. Shadowed as it was by the sun, it was a fairly menacing sight. The fear he felt was more due to what lay inside though, rather than the sight itself.
He really didn't want to do this. There was a kicking, clawing feeling in his chest that told him to just keep running, forever if he had to. Or maybe he could just put it off another day, what harm would that do? Visions of murder and the like built character, after all, so It would be completely fine to put it off for another week-ish. He had a lot of studying to do, and those books weren't going to read themselves. Just another month, and he would be ready to face the memories. Next year for sure, and he could come home.
Anything to avoid the pain.
His hooves tread softly over the tiny growths that were supposed to have grown into a full bed of grass. He picked his way through dead flowers that had never really gotten the chance to live. He came to a stop in front of the small welcome mat that had a big inky hoofprint on it.
He looked up at the front door of his home.
And he opened it.
It was immediately comforting in all the worst ways. He could already smell a very familiar scent, mixed in with all the smells of old cloth and family pictures. A warm scent, like cinnamon and sugar.
He already wanted to leave. So he opened the door wider and stepped inside.
His eyes immediately trained themselves on something of sentimental value in his living room, and the memories flooded into his mind unheeded. An old, stained coffee table. He remembered when he had spilled that soda on it, and his mother had told him that it was okay, and that she still loved him. He had been bawling and screaming about how she would hate him, and that she would be better off getting rid of him. But she had just scooped him up and held him until he calmed down. He still remembered getting more upset because he had been getting her fur dirty.
He vaguely acknowledged closing the door behind him as he quickly lost himself in the bittersweet memories.
He looked at something else. The worn out brown couch that they had spent so many nights on. The lumpy pillows and the frayed fabrics. He would sit there nestled into the comforting embrace of his mother while she read stories to him. They hadn't been the stories he liked, but he had listened anyway. He and his mother would sit there together until he inevitably nodded off to the soft tones of her voice, and he would always find himself waking up tucked into his bed. It was like magic.
He felt his jaw lock into place, and he pushed down the growing warmth in his eyes. He couldn't stop now, he was just getting started.
The similarly old bookshelf, where his mother would hide new books for him to find. He and his mother had been discussing buying a new one, since it was a bit rough on the eyes.
The shaggy brown rug he and his mother had picked out when they moved here. It was the only piece of furniture he had ever had any say in buying that wasn't black, and his mother had been so shocked when he hadn't pushed the issue.
All the weird knick-knacks his mother bought at thrift sales. Tiny snow globes that didn't work, little ornamental forest creatures, even a painting of a blue sunset. So many useless little things that clashed horribly together.
The terrible white curtains his mother had said were 'elegant'. The off-color spot in the wall from where he had accidently hit it with a hammer. The empty shelf with a crack in the middle.
So many family photos.
His eyes roved over some of them from where they were displayed on the mantle, above the fireplace his mother always told him not to play in even though he already knew not to.
Most of them were just pictures of his mother smiling awkwardly while he tried to look distant and uninterested. But there were a precious few where they both looked normal, and happy. Like a real family with a real son who didn't act like a maniac.
He ran his hoof over one of them, leaving behind a small clear streak in the dust. He wished they were all like that. He would give anything to have more of those memories.
There was one with an extra pony in the frame, but he moved past it. He had done his grieving there a long time ago.
He moved into the kitchen. His mother had spent an especially large amount of time here.
She had loved to cook. There were too many memories to count of her just standing in here, humming a pleasant tune as she made some sort of dish or treat. It was such a vivid image in his head, if he closed his eyes and just imagined that she was still here.. That he could hear the tune, even hum along... Maybe he could reach out, and just....
He could almost believe that she was still there...
But he opened his eyes all too soon. The kitchen was still here, and his mother was still gone.
There were still the memories though.
There was the kitchen table, where he and his mother had spent many nights sitting and playing board games.
So many games of Monopoly. So many failed Jenga towers. So many fake games of Poker. So much laughter.
So much lost.
There was the familiar opened letter still sitting there on the table. Still stained with tears.
Empty, practiced condolences delivered by a doctor with nothing behind his eyes. Worthless garbage.
He picked the letter up in his red magical glow, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. He couldn't stand looking at it anymore.
He turned his attention to the counter next to the stove. He ran his hoof over a small crack in the polished surface. He had once tried to help his mother cook, but he had forgotten the cutting board when chopping vegetables. His mother had been angry, but she was mostly upset that he hadn't been safe.
She was always doing that. She had always thought of him first. Always putting him before everything else.
Maybe that was why she had never told him she was sick.
He closed his eyes and heaved out a shuddering sigh. He couldn't stand here thinking about it anymore.
He made his way out of the kitchen and to the stairway.
He eyed the loose bottom step, and remembered when he had played a late-night prank on his mother using the loud creaking noise. She had been so mad, she had grounded him for a whole week. Of course, grounding a pony like him usually meant forcing him to go outside all day.
He had been endlessly obstinate in the face of his mother's exasperation. He wished he could tell her how much he valued her anger. She had never just sat back and let him get away with whatever he wanted.
He set his hoof down softly on the creaky step before making his way up the rest.
The hallway had never been of much interest to him before. Just something he had to walk through every day to get to and from his room. But now he saw so many things he had never really paid attention to before.
There was a little table that he wasn't sure he had ever even seen before. There was a tiny little flowerpot on it, and it held a fragile little yellow flower.
It was beautiful. He had never seen a flower so beautiful before.
He reached out and touched the precious little thing. He didn't know what kind of a flower it was, but he vowed to find out. He stayed there a moment, just caressing the delicate little stem, before taking his hoof away and reluctantly moving on.
There was a picture of a cottage on the wall that he had never given a single thought to. Never even registered it. The same went for the flowery pattern on the walls. He had never even seen any of it.
How much had he missed?
He eyed the door to his bedroom, but discarded the thought. It was just his room. Nothing special about it.
Instead, he pushed open the door to his mother's room and headed inside.
He closed the door behind him, and turned around to take it in.
He hadn't spent a lot of time here, for obvious reasons. The only times he had really come in here had been when he had bad dreams. Just a frightened little colt wordlessly seeking comfort and love. And his mother had always been ready to freely give both.
He had never said anything, he remembered. Always snuggling away under the covers with a brave face on and silent tears in his eyes.
He did a lot of things like that.
His eyes turned to a little brown vanity by the wall.
It must have been where his mother made herself presentable every day. He never really understood why she put so much time into it, it wasn't like she had any interest whatsoever in dating.
He slowly made his way over, flicking his eyes about the room all the while.
The surface of the mirrored armoire was sleek and clean. It made sense, since he had never been in here to spill anything on it.
His eyes glanced up to the mirror before glancing back down. He already knew he looked bad, and he could shower later.
One of the drawers was slightly ajar. He absentmindedly slid it open, not expecting to find anything of interest except maybe some makeup or something.
His eyes widened, and he suddenly felt short of breath.
There was a single thing inside the drawer. A plain white envelope with the name 'Light Flow' written on it in familiar magical writing.
His lip trembled but he bit down on it. The pain would help him stay grounded. This was exactly the kind of thing he had been looking for, hoping for even.
He delicately levitated the letter out, not entirely sure that it wouldn't crumble away to ash in his magical grip.
He turned it over, and found there was no seal on it. Just a simple adhesive paste. It was a relatively new way to seal letters, so he knew this one wasn't from a long time ago. This had to have been written within the last five or so years.
He used his magic to carefully tear away the part of the letter with the paste, and glimpsed a plain white piece of paper inside. His heart quickened. This was it. The big cliché heartfelt letter.
He hoped it was as stereotypical as possible.
He gently levitated the paper out of the envelope, and set the envelope back down on the vanity. He unfolded the paper with a considerable amount of trepidation. As the paper unfolded, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. In, and out.
He opened his eyes, and he read the letter.
To Light Flow. My greatest treasure.
If you are reading this letter, then I want to begin by apologizing.
I'm so sorry, my precious little shadow. For so many things. So many things I must have left unsaid.
By now, you must know about my greatest and worst-kept secret.
I have been sick, for many years now.
It wasn't long after your father died and we moved to Ponyville. I began to feel faint pains in my chest that gradually grew worse over time.
None of the doctors I've ever met with have been able to identify the cause or the effects.
All they knew was that my heart was slowly failing, and there was no way to stop it for good.
That's right. Your mom caught an unknown, incurable disease. Isn't that so cliché?
I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear any jokes right now. I can only imagine what state I must have left you in.
There were a lot of reasons I never told you, though none of them very good admittedly.
I was always afraid of the way you'd react. Because you're a fixer, Light Flow. You see a problem, and you don't stop until you've found some way to make it go away. You pursue solutions relentlessly, and nothing less than perfection is ever good enough.
If I had told you, you probably would have tried anything to find a cure, and when that would inevitably fail, you would blame yourself forever.
I know. It really is just about the worst possible reason to deceive you. I guess you're not the only one with honesty problems.
Speaking of, you should listen to your friend Applejack more. Now there's an honest young mare if ever I've met one. If there's anything I'm going to do with my new-found authority, it's going to be pushing you closer towards her. She's a good influence, and very cute besides.
Don't let that one get away, or you'll regret it. Trust me.
I'm sorry. The tone of this letter is all over the place. I know how much you love literature, and the disparity must be making you even more upset. I'll do my best to keep it gloomy and dramatic from here on.
You're probably wondering how you never noticed. Probably thinking of how good I must be at sneaking around.
Well, I'm not really.
Light Flow, you have a tendency to just sort of... ignore things, if they aren't immediately interesting. It's not a bad thing to be a focused pony, but sometimes you maybe take it too far.
I'm not trying to make you feel bad, even though it may seem that way. I'm just trying to give you a little motherly advice, now that I'm sure you'll listen.
Don't let life pass you by Light. It won't wait for you to look up and notice it.
Now listen, this part's important.
I've talked to Mayor Mare, and I managed to get her to pity me enough to make a deal.
She's agreed to halve the rent and utility for the house until your eighteenth birthday. You should be able to comfortably cover that with the government stipend for underage orphans. You'll have to register for it at Town Hall, but I know you can handle a little bureaucracy.
You'll likely have to move after your eighteenth birthday, but it would have been about time for it anyway. I love you little shadow, but you can be hard to live with sometimes.
I'm sure any other mother would have made arrangements for their child to live with somepony else, but I'm not any other mother, and you're not a regular child.
I know you'll do just fine on your own, even be happier that way, really.
But I don't want you to be alone all the time. So I've talked to Granny Smith, and she said that she'll make sure Applejack has time to come over and check on you every once in a while. It's a little grim to say, but you two have a lot in common.
Who says a mother can't meddle from beyond the grave?
I'm running out of space now, and I don't really want this to be essay-length anyway. It's not healthy to drag out goodbyes, or so I've heard on the radio. So I think it's time for me to go.
But I want you to remember something, Light. And to promise me something.
You have to live.
I know you'll be sad to see me go, but everypony dies eventually. There's no way of changing that. You have to pick yourself up off the ground and find the strength to keep going.
That's what it means to live.
I love you Light. More than you could possibly know.
I love you.
Okay.
He was crying, which made sense. It was a normal reaction to having your emotions put through a blender.
He could barely see through the tears actually, which made it a wonder that he had finished the letter at all.
He shakily levitated the letter up to his mouth and gently pressed his lips against it, only for a second.
It had all been so her .
He held the letter against his forehead for a moment before levitating the envelope back over to him.
He clumsily packed the letter away in the envelope before dropping it back into the drawer. He closed it with a loud 'bang'.
He rubbed his eyes, and stared up into his own reflection in the mirror.
He took note of the redness around his still leaking eyes, and he wondered how it had happened. He only remembered rubbing his eyes once, though the entire letter was sort of a blur.
He was pretty sure he was in shock. He wasn't really feeling anything but a deep, dull sadness.
He had an idea for what he should be doing right now.
Because his mother was right about one thing in the letter. He was a fixer.
But that could wait until later. Right now there was only one thing he wanted to be doing.
He turned away from the vanity and towards his mother's pristine white bed. She would probably have been angry for what he was about to do, but it's not like she was here to stop him.
He stumbled over to the mattress and collapsed onto it. He felt a familiar comforting warmth envelop him.
He could smell her here, so strongly. The scent of cinnamon and sugar filled his nose, and took him away to far away nights.
Nights spent silently crying in a mother's embrace while her soothing voice filled his ears.
But this night there would be no embrace, and nothing to sooth him.
And there would be no silence.
Author's Note
This one was a long time coming.
Light's been bottling up his emotions, and running from the pain for three chapters now. If he hadn't taken the time to properly grieve, he would have gone insane.
Which was pretty heavily implied by all the strange things he's been doing and thinking. In case you didn't realize somehow.
Also, I've decided on a path for the story. So that's exciting.
I had to kick my own ass to get this out today, so enjoy it!
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was very afraid.
Seriously, he wasn't sure he had ever been so scared in his entire life.
It was a deep, harrowing fear. It spread through his entire body in great bushing bouts, shaking and shuddering his bones with the pressure. A hot, red feeling. Like his blood was on fire, urging him to run and run to try to put it out.
It was the sight of the building in front of him. It loomed menacingly, casting a dark shadow over him. It was as if the light had forsaken him, leaving him to fend for himself in the unforgiving recesses of the darkness.
The great purple walls were usually pleasant and welcoming, but now they did nothing but allow the fear to burrow deeper.
It was a strange thing to be afraid of, but the purple was reminding him of fresh grapes. Ripe and deeply purple.
His least favorite fruit.
The large windows were normally helpful and familiar, allowing him an interesting glance inside. But now they were shadowed, as if something was tinting them; trying to hide what lay inside.
It didn't help his current mood.
He swallowed heavily, trying desperately to moisten his bone-dry mouth. It was as if something was actively draining his saliva; perhaps to render him unable to speak out, or scream.
He raised his shaking hoof to the two-handled door. The two protrusions were reminding him of outstretched claws, ready to stretch forward to tear him limb from limb. He licked his lips, and lowered his hoof. It would probably be safer to open the door with magic.
Red light illuminated the shadowed wooden surface in front of him, chasing away a meagre portion of the darkness from his path. A solitary light in an unforgiving void, providing little comfort or safety.
He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and flung the door open.
A great screeching alarm tore into his ears, and he gasped. His eyes flew open as he heard a horrible screaming voice rise above the terrible noise. The ferocious and feared warden of the hellish building in front of him.
And her name was...
"Come in darling, we're open!"
Rarity.
Light Flow was very afraid. And that was because he was here to tell Rarity he had ruined his cloak.
He didn't know Rarity all that well. He had only really seen her around town on a few rare occasions, so the most exposure he had with her was at her shop.
And that experience was very unpleasant.
Rarity was probably the most terrifying creature he had ever met, and he was friends with a Timberwolf.
Sure, she probably wasn't that dangerous in a conventional sense, though he supposed he wouldn't really know.
Images of Rarity as some sort of secret super spy filled his head for a moment, before he discarded the thought. If somepony he knew was a spy, he was pretty sure he'd realize.
But Rarity was dangerous in a less obvious way. In all his years, he had never met somepony so cunning, so intelligent, so conniving.
So loud .
If somepony upset her, they were sure to be in for a very long, very high-pitched lecture.
Even he was not immune to her methods. He had once accidently stepped on some important fabric she had laying around, and things quickly went bad for him. It was supposed to be a quick trip to have his cloak refitted, but he ended up staying for over two hours while Rarity screamed at him about having awareness of his surroundings.
The entire time, he had a scathing reply about not leaving important fabric on the floor, but he had never let it fly. He wasn't stupid, after all. His mother had always told him to never interrupt a lecturing lady, but there was something else too.
A golden rule of life is to never upset your tailor. His mother had told him that too.
So many lessons, so little thanks.
What was he doing here again?
He stared up at the open doorframe, and the small bell that hung there. He was here to get chewed out by Rarity, of course. How could he have forgotten?
He had been forgetting a lot of things lately.
He was stalling. He should know better.
He shook his head, and stepped forward into the Carousel Boutique.
Usually, the messy interior of he building was warm and inviting, promising relatively pleasant conversations with a less-than pleasant mare.
But he felt very differently now, he was here to be punished. The intricate patterns on the wall were no longer a delightful wonder to look at. Instead, they seemed to pop off the walls in great roping lengths. Prepared to fly over and wrap themselves around his neck.
The two-tone swirl on the floor seemed ready to open wide, like a gaping maw. Waiting to consume him.
He swallowed again, and closed the door behind him. There was no going back now.
The white she-devil seemed to be out of the room for the moment, but there was another pony there.
Some of his fear abated as he blinked at the pony with her back turned towards him. It wasn't her presence that comforted him; actually, it wasn't even that he was comforted.
He was dumbfounded. He had never seen somepony that looked quite like her.
She was a pegasus with a coat of pretty sky blue fur, but that wasn't what drew his eye. Lots of pegasi had colors like that, probably because of camouflage that they hadn't evolved out of yet or something.
No, but the really weird thing about her was her mane. It was rainbow-colored .
It was pretty obvious why that was surprising. He couldn't even come up with words to describe how strange it was. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure he had an opinion about it. All he could think about was that it was unnatural.
Was it natural? Probably not, of course she had to dye it. There was no way anypony would be born with a natural rainbow mane color. Not even the Princess had something like that; hers was more of an aurora. This was a literal rainbow of colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. They were all there! It was nearly maddening. How much time must she put into maintaining such a delicate meshing of colors?
In a desperate attempt to draw his own thoughts away from the topic, he flicked his eyes down to her soul.
It was... wow. It was spinning very fast. It was also about the same shade of blue as her coat, but that hardly mattered, now did it? The darn thing was rotating in place so quickly, he was amazed he could tell the color at all. Really, he was shocked that it hadn't spun right out of her chest.
He had no idea what that meant, and he couldn't even begin to formulate a hypothesis. Every other pony's soul was relatively sedate, but hers was incredibly active.
And of course, to top it all off: her soul also had one of those weird marks in it.
This entire pony was an enigma.
"Uh, hey dude? I know I'm awesome, but do you think you can quit it with the staring? Kinda creepy."
A slightly raspy voice broke him from his thoughts, and he flicked his eyes up to one annoyed blue face. He had lost himself in thought again, and he hadn't noticed her noticing him noticing her. Wait, what?
"Uh.. Sorry." He managed to get something out amidst an ocean of distressed thoughts, though he wasn't sure what he had said. He was really losing it. He must be dreading Rarity's punishment more than he had imagined.
The colorful pegasus seemed mollified at whatever had babbled out of his mouth, at least. Her face relaxed, and her entire demeanor shifted towards what could only be described as 'chill'.
"It's alright. I know it's hard not to." Her face broke out into a grin as she spoke, and her eyes closed in what seemed to be satisfaction. He was pretty sure he could already guess at one of her personality traits. Everything about her reeked of confidence.
Her pinkish eyes opened again, and he felt a measure of trepidation for some reason. There was a certain... challenge in those eyes. Just a little flash of daring that made him want to prepare himself for disaster. Like a storm was approaching.
"So, what was it?"
His mind drew a blank in the face of the sudden question, and he was sure it showed on his face. What was she even asking? What was what?
She rolled her eyes and gave a huff at his blank faced stare. Apparently, it was obvious what she was asking. Shame on him.
"What drew your eye, dude? Was it the hair?" She took a moment to run her hoof through the prismatic strands, creating a rather incredible metaphorical waterfall of colors.
He opened his mouth to give confirmation, but she cut him off.
"Was it the physique? I work out you know. A lot . Actually, I don't mean to brag, but you're looking at the fastest pegasus in Equestria!"
She leapt into the air as she spoke, hovering in place as she flexed her admittedly impressive physique. She wasn't incredibly muscular, but she didn't need to be if her claim held any merit. She was sleek, but it was easy to tell she was also fit. Something that was basically a requirement for speed.
Her muscles weren't huge and bulging like 'traditionally' strong ponies, but they gave her body quite a bit of definition. He could see them flexing against the surface of her skin through her fur, and he could tell they were incredibly taut. They reminded him of Applejack's legs, with all the power held underneath the skin.
Not that he had been looking at Applejack's legs. He just noticed things, that's all.
The way she moved was likewise telling of her strength and agility. She held herself with a certain confidence, and her movements were quick and strong. She had no trouble suspending herself in the air, and it even seemed to be almost unconscious. Her wingbeats sent large gusts of air past him, scattering Rarity's clutter around.
Actually, that wasn't good, she should probably stop if she valued her life. Or her eardrums.
Luckily, she set herself back on the ground. It was incredible how easily she moved between flying and standing. Most pegasi he had seen usually had to take a moment to take off or set themselves down, but she just did it . Like it was nothing.
She seemed to be waiting for an answer, but he was still thinking about the way her body rippled when she flapped her wings, so he decided to stall.
"The fastest in all of Equestria, huh?"
Her face brightened considerably at that. It looked like he had touched upon a source of great pride for her, endless as it was.
"Yep! Heh. Not to toot my own horn, but my average wingpower is around the same as a Wonderbolts'." She was trying to play that fact off as unimportant, but he could see an immense amount of pride behind that cool expression. It reminded him a lot of what he used to do as a foal.
"It's really no biggie, though. They'll probably find out about it someday and beg me to join the team or something. I'll be modest of course, but I'll let them wear me down eventually. After all, it would be a crime to deprive such a great team of somepony as awesome as me !" She did a very impressive backflip into the air as she finished speaking, which lent a great deal of merit to her claims of awesomeness.
She was mostly talking to herself at this point, but he caught the gist. If she wanted to be a Wonderbolt, she probably could, and probably would.
She certainly seemed fit enough, but he had never been very interested in stuff like that anyway, so he was probably a bad judge.
Sports had always seemed like they just weren't worth it. Why in Equestria would he run around getting all sweaty for no reason when he could be relaxing somewhere with a good book? Why did ponies get so excited about sports anyway? 'Oh goodie, they've got the ball'. So what? It was just a meaningless short-term achievement that had no real value-
"And they'll only want me even more once they hear about my greatest achievement. After all, I'm the first pony in like, a thousand years to do a Sonic Rainboom!"
"That should practically guarantee my acceptance! Once I actually apply, anyway..." If Light Flow had been paying attention, he would have seen some of her confidence bleed away at the end of her sentence as she set herself back onto the ground.
But as it was, he was a bit busy trying to collect the shattered remains of his mind.
He didn't think he had misheard her. There weren't very many word combinations that sounded like 'Sonic Rainboom' that weren't complete gibberish, so unless her story had gone off the rails somewhere, she had just claimed to have performed the legendary Sonic Rainboom .
A Sonic Rainboom.
The holy grail of aerobatic maneuvers, said to be so difficult and dangerous that attempting it was certain to cause great injury to whatever poor deluded fool had thought they could take a place in pegasus history.
He had first heard about it from his mother's endless fount of stories. Actually, she had told him that she had witnessed one. It was about eight years ago, just before they had moved to Ponyville.
She had been somewhat cagey on the details, so he had gone looking for answers on his own.
The history he had found was, quite frankly, astonishing.
He had gone through a bit of a 'history' phase at some point, which just happened to coincide with his 'warfare' phase. It was right about the time he had committed himself to a life of evil, so naturally he had gone searching for the most obvious outlet. Which was pretty much the reason he had also been into history.
And the Sonic Rainboom had perfectly meshed with both of his interests.
He had done quite a bit of studying on the topic, though there wasn't a whole lot of information to be had. A lot of important texts had been lost after The Great Banishment; a mysterious event that was still heavily debated about to this day.
Somehow, something or somepony had been banished somewhere about one thousand years ago. Supposedly, just before the banishment, the soon-to-be-punished monster had gone on some sort of crusade against literature. Nopony knew why or how, but that was the unfortunate state of things.
Luckily, he had been able to dig up some old reference material on a special trip to the Grand Canterlot Library. He still remembered that trip. His mother had wanted to reward him for doing well in school or something, so she promised to take him anyplace he wanted.
He doubted she had really meant 'anyplace', but luckily for his mother and her fragile bank account: his choice had been Canterlot.
The knowledge he gained there had been terrible, yet enlightening; as most history was.
Especially about the Sonic Rainboom.
He hadn't been able to find the origin of the technique, but he had traced earliest mention of it back to around one hundred years before The Great Banishment. It was seemingly just an incredible aerial technique performed by talented pegasi for some unspecified royalty. If he had to take a guess, Her Royal Highness was a safe bet.
A marvelous magical explosion of colors, it had been described.
If any of that was true, it was that it was magical .
There was more history, dated to around the time of the Banishing War. A war waged against a creature so horrible, they had completely restarted their calendar in remembrance.
History around that time had been especially hazy, but he had found reference to the Sonic Rainboom being used as a weapon .
He had gotten over it eventually, but he could still remember the nauseous feeling he had felt when he had uncovered the truth. A horrible truth that he had wished he could have let rest in the pages of history, forever.
The Sonic Rainboom had been used as a bomb. A bomb that not even the performer could survive.
Suicide bombing.
There wasn't much about what led to the incident, or the theory on how it had happened. But there was coverage on the aftermath, and a small amount of speculation.
The impact site had been a town, really more like a city. The population hadn't been listed, but he could make a guess based on a picture of the devastation, or lack thereof.
The picture was just a large crater. A very large crater, blackened and jagged at the edges, like something had scorched the ground. It was relatively deep, though the bottom could be seen pretty clearly.
The city had apparently been called Hamelet, which was ironic considering the seemingly large size of it. He could only imagine at how many ponies had been there that day. A Sonic Rainboom was supposedly the absolute fastest a pegasus could possibly go, reaching levels beyond even the speed of sound.
It must've been so sudden .
The arcane science behind the phenomenon was unfortunately lost to time, and he hadn't been able to find an answer at the time. He had left the library feeling strangely hollow inside, much to the concern of his mother.
It was because of that visit that he had turned his focus away from warfare.
But while he had been decently intelligent back then, he had only grown in smarts since then. He had never looked too deeply into the relative theory of magic, but he knew a couple things. Enough to formulate a hypothesis.
The Sonic Rainboom was likely only possible through an extreme amount of pegasus magic. Unicorn magic was most widely understood, while earth magic was almost a complete mystery, so pegasus magic sat at a comfortable middle ground of understanding.
Unicorns only used their magic consciously, and earth ponies were theorized to have nearly entirely innate magic. Pegasi however, were known to have both conscious and innate magic.
That was about the extent of his knowledge on the topic, something he would have to rectify in the future. But it wasn't hard to make educated guesses on which was used for what. Their conscious magic was probably used to control the weather, while their innate magic was probably used to help them fly.
A simple theory, one that was surely lacking in quite a few areas; but it worked, at least. Though relying on guesswork for such important conclusions was deeply unsettling.
A pegasus would have to have an incredible amount of conscious control over their magic to prevent themselves from being torn apart by the unimaginably high speed; as well as a frightening amount of innate potential to help them reach the high speeds in the first place.
Such a concentrated amount of disciplined magic, being released all at once at a critical moment.
A critical moment, like death ...
Such a monumental, all-consuming, vaporizing, eruption of an explosion wasn't out of the question.
His internal theorizing seemed to have taken some amount of time. The pony with the rainbow mane had gone back to standing around looking bored, so it was likely she had lost interest in him. He didn't blame her, even Applejack sometimes just let him stew when he got like that.
He cleared his throat to draw her attention, and he saw magenta eyes flick towards him for a moment before casually sliding away.
"'Sup?" She was doing her best to feign disinterest, but he could tell she was bothered by his seeming lack of interest. The way she fidgeted her hooves, and pointedly stared at anything except him reminded him of very familiar tactics.
He had a lot of experience making it look like he didn't care.
He focused his eyes on her soul again. The way it spun rapidly, like it was trying to take frenzied flight.
It made sense now.
It made so much sense.
He turned to fully face the most powerful pegasus in Equestria.
A pegasus with so much raw strength, she had been able to pull off something that should have been impossible for a pony three times her age.
Such strength deserved awe, and fear.
Respect .
"Miss." His voice was quiet, yet firm. It was important to show such an important pony proper deference. He knew now that he cocky, self-assured, somewhat childish outside merely hid the incredible strength within.
He had to know her name. He had to know why she was here.
"Please, tell me your name."
The living weapon in front of him cocked her eyebrow in what looked to be a questioning manner. He doubted many ponies spoke to her in such a respectful tone. From what he had heard, it was unlikely she was in any sort of position of power, as much as she should've been.
"I'm uh.. Rainbow Dash. You okay dude? You're lookin' a little... intense ?"
Her name was Rainbow Dash. He hadn't stopped paying attention, or been distracted or anything. He had heard her name, and it was Rainbow Dash.
He opened his mouth, intent on letting Rainbow Dash know exactly how impressive he thought she was.
"Ah! Light Flow! How are you today, darling?"
Of course, Rarity took the moment to thoroughly interrupt him.
She had entered from one of her mysterious side rooms, carrying what looked to be a uniform of some kind. It was a blue vest with a lighter blue border, and he could see some sort of badge on the front.
Rarity approached the two ponies, and presented the vest to them.
"Well, Miss Dash, I've repaired your weather team vest for you! You should really be more careful, darling. Tearing it on your first day doesn't leave much of a positive impression."
He turned to stare wide-eyed at the suddenly bashful pony beside him. She was on the weather team? A pony like her was on the weather team ?! He hadn't expected much, but.....
Weather team ?
"Yeah, well that's why I came here . If I had told anypony at work about it, I might've lost my new job..."
Rainbow reached a hoof up to rub behind her head as she spoke, and her wings ruffled at her sides. He didn't really think she should've been so embarrassed. If it was her first day on the job, ponies were kind of expecting her to mess up.
Though, with her magical and physical power, he was pretty sure the vest would be ripping a lot.
Rarity hummed disapprovingly at Rainbow, before turning her attention to him.
"What do you need today, Mr. Flow?"
His thoughts on underappreciation quickly burnt to cinders in his head. He had forgotten why he was here.
Light Flow was once more very afraid.
He licked his suddenly dry lips as he stared into Rarity's pleasant face. He imagined that face twisting in rage, and those eyes turning red with anger. Her voice would tear through his ears as she screeched in horror.
' YOU DID WHAT?!'
He bit his lip as Rarity's face slowly turned down. She was looking concerned at his lack of reply. He had to speak. He just had to get it over with, and tell her. Any second now, she was going to ask him what was wrong, and he would have to tell her anyway, so he should just do it now .
He closed his eyes, and prepared for pain.
"I ruined my cloak."
...
...
...?
He didn't hear anything.
He was expecting to hear Rarity start yelling at this point, but she was completely silent. Maybe she was waiting for him to open his eyes so that she could stab them with something pointy. She did have a lot of pointy things, she was a seamstress after all.
Well, nothing was going to be accomplished just standing here waiting for pain, so he tentatively opened one eye.
Instead of the monstrous visage of the she-demon he was expecting, he saw the plain face of a calm Rarity.
More than that, she looked... sad?
He opened his other eye to stare at Rarity's melancholy face, before she gave him a small smile.
"That's okay, darling. Mistakes happen."
He felt like somepony had punched him in the gut, and it took all of his strength not to collapse instantly. The shock factor of those words was beyond anything he had ever heard.
Rarity wasn't angry? How was that possible ?
"In fact, darling. I would be honored if you would allow me to make a new one for you. Free of charge."
Light Flow was pretty sure he was going to black out.
This had to be a dream. It was the only explanation.
Or maybe he had been transported to an alternate reality where everypony was the opposite of who they usually were? Though he didn't feel particularly heroic, so that probably wasn't it.
What actual reason would Rarity have to be so flagrantly... generous ?
His extreme confusion was thankfully interrupted by an annoyed raspy voice.
"Okay, well, that's great for you dude, but I've gotta get going now." Rainbow had been standing around looking at her vest, seemingly waiting for them to finish talking.
But it seemed like she was getting bored. He still had things to say to her, but he supposed that could wait for another time.
"Thanks for the help Shmarity! See you around, dude!"
Especially since she was already running out the door. He felt a gust of wind in his face as she took off in front of the shop, leaving the space in sudden silence.
He supposed it made sense that a pegasus with so much magic would be flighty.
He heard Rarity mutter something about names, before she turned her attention back to him.
"You should probably get going too, darling. Get some rest, yes? I'll have your new cloak done sometime next week."
She suddenly raised a hoof up and pushed him towards the open door. He stumbled forward from the unexpected force, which Rarity used to push him forward once again. What was she doing?
He stuttered out protests, but she seemed not to hear them as she hummed pleasantly over his sounds of distress.
After a few pushes and a lot of words that went unheard, he unwillingly stepped out onto the path outside.
"Be well, darling!"
He heard the door shut behind him.
He stood there dumbfounded in front of the Carousel Boutique. Certified home of the strangest mare in Ponyville.
It was about noon, so he could still see ponies going about their business. He stared at them as he tried to puzzle out what had just happened.
Rarity had looked really sad about something , and she seemed very insistent about making him leave as soon as possible. She had also brushed aside his mistreatment of her work, and even offered him a free replacement. He had never known her to be so kind about anything . What did it mean?
'Be well? '
Oh.
That made a little sense.
His face pulled itself into a frown. He really didn't like being pitied .
Author's Note
Hey there friends!
Guess who broke their promise to themselves, and wrote all weekend?
It's me!
But seriously, I didn't spend that much time writing. It's just a fun thing to do when I'm bored, so I ended up writing this one out over the course of like, three days.
I'm not sure about the quality of the chapter, since I can only read my own writing so much before I start hating it. I gave it about three once-overs and pronounced it done.
I need to learn some self-control, because I've just impulsively decided to post this at 3am.
I may republish this chapter if I regret posting it so soon, so don't be surprised if that happens.
I've been getting a whole lot of super positive feedback, which is pretty much why I kept writing in the first place. This one's for you, everybody!
special shoutout to that guy vaguely demented here's your rainbow encounter
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Celestial Year 997 AB
Light Flow was in pain.
Not just physical pain, though there was certainly enough of that. He was also feeling quite a bit of emotional pain. Two different kinds of hurt clashing together in the most horrible way.
The aching in the body, and the aching in the heart.
It had been about eight months since his mother died, and he was still feeling the effects.
Waking up in the morning to the sound of nothing and nopony in the house. The choking veil of uncharacteristic silence was deafening in his ears, and he often found himself talking to the empty space to fill the void.
The pleasant smells of breakfast in-progress were a fading memory now, and he could never find the energy to make anything of substance. If he ate anything, it was a bowl of cold cereal.
He still caught himself saying 'see you later' when leaving the house sometimes. As if he had fooled himself into believing there was somepony to respond.
Most days, he didn't return until dark.
Whenever he had finished with whatever he had been doing for the day, he would often waste the time away with Applejack. If Applejack was busy, he would sit around at the library, or take a long walk around Ponyville.
He did whatever he could to stay away from home, because just being there hurt him. Everything he looked at held precious memories. Flashes of tender moments spent with the most important pony in the world. There were so many days when he would find himself sitting and staring at random pieces of furniture for hours.
He couldn't stay there anymore. If he was ever going to move forward with his life, he had to leave.
It hadn't been too hard to convince Mayor Mare to allow him to move. Normally, the idea of a fifteen year old colt living alone would be unthinkable. But as it was, it wouldn't be much of a change.
Since the mayor was already breaking all sorts of laws by allowing him to live alone, the process of selling his house and moving somewhere else was frighteningly easy. He supposed there was some part of the mayor that was just happy she could sell the house to somepony that would pay full taxes.
At least, the pessimistic part of him thought that. There was an innocent little colt deep inside him that thought she was helping him because it was a nice thing to do.
He wished he could let that little colt out more, but it was hard to find a reason to recently.
The process was probably made all the easier considering the home he was attempting to buy, though the mayor definitely thought he was crazy.
There was a little abandoned lumberjack's cottage on the very edge of the Everfree forest. Seriously, It was nestled right into the trees, and the very back could probably be counted as actually being inside the forest. It had been there a long time, so It probably didn't use to be that close, but he honestly liked it better that way.
The forgotten structure was just sitting around gathering dust, and it needed an occupant.
Apparently, the lumberjack living there had gone missing one day. Nopony knew for sure, but it was pretty obvious the Everfree Forest had something to do with it. What had that lumberjack expected to happen though? It's not like the Everfree had been any less dangerous a hundred years ago.
It was a bit modest with only three rooms and a small basement, but at least it had plumbing. That had been something he was especially worried about.
Any normal pony would consider it absolutely insane to move there from a nice house in town, but he supposed it was likely a couple of marbles had gotten lost over the years.
He shouldn't have been as calm about that as he was. Maybe he should find a therapist or something?
The mayor made him take a homeowner's aptitude test, which he studied laboriously for. After passing, she very unofficially dubbed him fit to own property, before promptly asking if he could pretend to have an older guardian who happened to have the same name as him.
Her way of trying to poorly hide her very illicit dealings with an underage colt. Like throwing a sheet over the evidence.
...Okay, he shouldn't have phrased it that way, it sounded super creepy.
Either way, he didn't have a problem with it. It wouldn't be too much of a bother to help the mayor sleep a little better at night. For all intents and purposes, he had a twenty-four year old brother named Light Flow who had just returned from work abroad.
He didn't know what he would say if anypony asked where 'abroad' was, but it didn't really matter that much.
Zebrica? The Neigherlands? No, he didn't know anything about either of those places.
It could wait.
It had been a little under two months since then, and the cottage was finally ready for him. It had needed a serious cleaning, new appliances, and they even had to call an inspector in to check the structural integrity; but everything was apparently fine.
Which was a little odd. The Everfree usually found some way to break down structures like this one.
He could solve that mystery later, especially now that he was going to be living right next to the forest.
Maybe if the Necromancy thing didn't work out, he could become some sort of expert on the Everfree? Maybe look into why it is the way it is?
Regardless, after he got the all-clear from the mayor, he had begun preparing his things for his new home.
He wasn't taking a lot, since the entire purpose of this was to try and get away from the memories. He was taking his bed, which would fit comfortably in the small bedroom in the back. He was taking his bookshelf and his desk table, both of which would find residence in the main room.
He was also taking a lot of miscellaneous clutter. Just things that were necessary for a home, like towels and stuff.
That was pretty much the extent of it. Mayor Mare had said that anything left in the house would be seized by the government, but that was okay. The old stuff didn't matter.
New futures lay ahead of him, full of new memories and new moments. He wouldn't run from them any longer.
Of course, there was no way for him to move all his stuff alone, and he didn't really want to hire any help.
So he enlisted the free help of his local apple sellers.
Applejack had been very supportive about many things since his mother had died, but this was not one of them. To put it in her own words, this entire idea was 'dumber than a Junebug in July'.
He could have done without the countryism, but those were something any friend of Applejack would have to get used to.
They had yelled and screamed about it until their throats were hoarse, but eventually Applejack had just become too tired to argue about it anymore. She still didn't like it, but she had conceded that she couldn't change his mind.
He understood why she was so upset. The Everfree Forest was the most dangerous thing for dozens of miles, and he was trying to settle down directly next to it. But the one thing that Applejack couldn't deny was the amount of time he spent there as it was. If he hadn't died yet, It wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.
She was probably also angry that he was selling his mother's house, but that was something that just couldn't be argued. He was already going to have to move in three years, so he was really just getting a head start.
So in the end, Applejack had begrudgingly agreed to help him move. She even brought her brother to help.
He and Big Macintosh had never quite gotten along. Looking at it objectively, two extremely quiet ponies like them should get along famously, but that wasn't really the case.
It turns out that putting two ponies with difficulty starting conversations together is a recipe for awkward silence.
Who knew?
But either way, he was glad the large farmpony showed up. He had even brought a wagon for the job.
Applejack showed up as chipper as always, while her brother nursed that stone-cold disinterest he kept.
But her chipper attitude quickly fled when she learned he was only taking a few things. He was expecting another big shouting match while her brother looked on, but she was actually strangely quiet about the matter. She just stood around with her mouth open for a while before giving a big sigh.
He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but he was really just happy she wasn't outwardly angry. He could suffer the consequences later if it meant she was helping him now.
With the help of the Apple siblings, his things were loaded into the wagon, and with Big Macintosh in the harness, they set off for the cottage.
He tried not to think too much about the house disappearing behind him. That part of his life was over now, and he had to look to the future.
The cottage wasn't extremely far from Ponyville, but it wasn't extremely close either. Probably a ten minute walk from the southeast edge of the town. It was just the right distance for trips into town, but far away enough so nopony would bug him.
Not that anypony would anyway. Who in their right mind would walk up to a cottage right next to those woods?
He hoped Applejack would, at least.
They had to cross several small bridges, and eventually they transitioned to grass as they left the dirt roads. He would have to remember to buy Big Mac a thank you card or something. He trudged through the unideal terrain with no complaints whatsoever, just walking along listening to Applejack talk about whatever came to her mind.
Speaking of the orange pony, she was lucky enough to sit in the wagon the entire trip. He had tried to join her, but she had snorted and promptly kicked him out. She yelled something about getting a workout, but he hardly heard her through the sound of utter betrayal .
So he had to walk next to Big Macintosh the entire way, which wasn't so bad really. The stocky red pony made for relatively comfortable companionship when Applejack was around. They could share in their combined amusement at her antics.
Speaking of antics, there was one time when he had been visiting Applejack while she was working that instantly came to mind. She had been doing her thing, bucking trees and gathering apples, when she came across a tree that looked completely fine.
Well, maybe it wouldn't have to her, but she had been distracted with talking to him at the time. Either way, she had leaned forward and bucked the tree, but her back hooves ended up going straight through the wood.
They hadn't been stuck, thankfully, but she sure did look funny standing there on two legs.
And he had let her know how funny he found it, rather boisterously actually. That had earned him a painful bonk on the head with an apple.
He probably deserved it, but it still wasn't very kind of her.
Reminiscing on his past with Applejack was a decent way to pass the time, and they came to the front of the cottage almost too quickly.
It was a rather poor sight. The wooden paneling was almost entirely obscured by stalks of ivy and creeping vines that reached up to sprawl across the dark brown roof. Several trees from the Everfree could be seen poking out from behind the structure, and some exceptionally daring branches were even reaching out across the sides.
There were multiple windows on the walls, though they were rendered entirely useless by the all-encompassing foliage. You could barely see the cottage at all, actually. There was just too much greenery.
From any sort of distance, it would really just look like another part of the forest. Just a little splotch of brown in a sea of similarity.
It was perfect.
Applejack made some sort of comment about presentation, but he hadn't really heard her. He had been too busy admiring his wonderfully inconspicuous new house.
What did she know anyway? It's not like she had a cool overgrown cottage in the wilderness.
He approached the brown door, noticing how there were multiple stems and vines with visible cuts surrounding it. They must have grown over the door over the years, and been cut away when the mayor sent ponies in to clean and whatnot.
He also took note of how the lock on the door looked relatively new, which made sense. The old lock must have been rusty at best, and he couldn't imagine it would deter any thief.
After unlocking the door with the key he had been given, he took a moment to breathe before opening it. This was where he was going to be living for an indeterminate amount of time. This was the start of his new life, in his new house, with his new freedom. Out here, on the border of the Everfree, he was free to do whatever he wanted.
Specifically, to read whatever he wanted.
He closed his eyes, and swung the door open with his magic.
He stepped inside, opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. He wanted his first impression to hit him all at once, like some sort of sensory imprint.
His instinctual response was to crinkle his nose.
It really smelled like cleaning product.
The interior was, as expected, not much to look at. There was a large hearth dominating most of the right wall, which was likely necessary to heat the house when it got cold. It was sort of an eyesore, but he would get used to it.
The wooden floors and walls seemed somewhat shiny, and he could only imagine the amount of scrubbing that had transpired here. This place must have been outrageously dusty, and probably just incredibly dirty in general.
As it was, it was fairly clean, even if it did smell.
In the corner, directly next to the door and the hearth, there was something that didn't quite fit with the cabin aesthetic. It seemed as if Mayor Mare had been kind enough to supply him with a modern oven and a fridge. He wasn't very knowledgeable about engineering, so he wasn't quite sure how they were powered, but he was happy nonetheless.
The rest of the space was empty, though there was a door on the left wall, as well as the back wall. One of them was the bathroom, and one was his bedroom. He would have to be careful not to get them confused.
It was really nice. It might have been a little small, but he actually preferred it that way. It was cozy.
As he stared around at his new residence, he felt something brush against his side. Applejack trotted slowly into his vision, before coming to a stop just in front of him.
She also seemed to be taken by the pleasant space, but probably not for the same reason.
"Well... uh... it's really .... nice , sugarcube." Applejack seemed at a loss for words. Her awe must have been staggering in its enormity.
"Yeah, it's nice. You have anything else to add?" He knew he was really fishing for insults now, but he just couldn't help it. He loved acting offended.
"It's... really... comfortable ...?"
Well, not everypony appreciated the feeling of cramped spaces, he supposed.
He walked out in front of Applejack and turned to stare petulantly into her dubious emerald eyes. He just couldn't believe she was judging his choice of home.
It was time for a clever retort.
"Thanks for the input Applejack, but it's not like you have to live here. Some of us don't need an entire farm to live on."
Maybe not his cleverest retort...
But regardless, it had an effect. Applejack's nose crinkled, and her mouth turned down. Her features took on an air of resigned annoyance, and her voice adopted a familiar sarcastic tone.
"Hardy har har. Come on, let's get yer stuff in here. I got chores to do today on that farm you're so jealous of."
She turned around and walked out the door in a huff. He took the time to exaggeratedly roll his eyes and followed her outside.
He really didn't know what he'd do without her.
He walked outside to find Applejack standing next to her brother in front of the cart.
He didn't know why, but he was getting a weird feeling. There was just something about Applejack's eyes, just a little spark of... something deep inside.
He couldn't quite decipher it, but her growing smirk was far more telling.
"Come on, sugarcube! You've only got one box to go!"
It was official. Applejack was far more villainous than he could ever hope to be.
It turns out that look in her eyes was pure malice, and he internally cursed himself for not recognizing it.
Applejack had wanted him to begin with the moving, but when he lit up his horn to start, he felt a painful jab in his side.
Applejack didn't want him to use magic, oh no . She wanted him to work for this.
She and her brother would move the heavy stuff like his furniture, but he had to move the boxes.
By carrying them. Without magic.
The task sounded daunting, but it had actually been okay at first. The boxes with his random junk hadn't been too heavy, and he was actually enjoying the light workout. Applejack and Big Mac had to contend with his bookshelf, while he breezed along with a box of kitchen utensils.
But then, he found the box with his books in it.
He couldn't actually lift it onto his back by himself, so he had to get Applejack's help. She slid it out of the wagon, and hefted it onto her back with a grunt.
He swore he could actually feel his heart dropping through his chest. How heavy were those books?
"You ready sugarcube?"
He licked his lips, and mumbled something approaching a confirmation.
He heard an exhale, and there was suddenly a great weight on his back.
His knees almost buckled, and he swore he heard something snap. He immediately wheezed in pain as his legs wobbled under the weight, and his entire body lowered a few inches to the ground under the crushing force.
He vaguely heard what sounded like a laugh, and made a solemn vow to himself to get revenge somehow. He didn't care what he had to do, he would get Applejack back for this.
He very shakily hefted one hoof up, and brought it crashing down a few inches forward. He enjoyed the thought that the world shook from the collision, causing huge earthquakes that devastated the kingdom as a result of his titanic burden.
The weight was nearly unbearable, and he wondered if he could just give up. What could Applejack do to him, really?
Okay, there were a lot of uncomfortable answers to that question. Maybe it would be best to just suffer through his current pain.
He ground his teeth together, and lifted another hoof forward. And he did it again, and again, and again . Each step was agonizing, and he was barely making any progress.
No matter how many times he looked back up at the cottage, it refused to move. It continued to sit in the same place, absolutely steadfast in its resolve to stay exactly where it was.
His new house must have some sort of vendetta against him.
"Come on, sugarcube! You're almost there!"
Applejack had been cheering him on, but he was almost certain she was wrong. The cottage was exactly as far away as it had been when he started, and it would probably stay that way forever.
He must have died at some point and not realized it, because he was pretty sure this was his personal hell. Forced to do unending physical labor while his best friend giggled maniacally at him.
If he hadn't been half delirious with pain, he would have commended Applejack on her devilish actions. She was truly a paragon of evil.
Everything hurt. Light Flow was in pain.
It had taken a thousand years, but he had done it.
He had agonizingly made his way into the cabin, and set the box onto the floor.
The literal weight off his shoulders was like some sort of blessing from his unknown deity. He had never felt so light in his life, which was ironic for reasons he didn't want to justify.
As soon as the box was down, he had taken the opportunity to follow it. To anyone that asked, he would say that he was testing how comfortable his floors were; though, he didn't think Applejack would be fooled.
Speaking of the devil herself, he heard hoofsteps on the floor behind him, and he didn't think they were Big Mac's. Speaking of him, he hadn't seen the big pony in a while. Had he gone home while he was struggling with the box?
"Twenty hoof-lengths in as many minutes. Not the best performance, sugarcube, but I can't say you didn't give it your all."
Applejack's voice sounded muted in his ears, but that was probably because of all the blood flow. He moaned out some sort of vague response, and hoped she understood what he was trying to say.
Luckily, she seemed to have picked up on the tone of his voice, and he heard a chuckle.
"It don't matter none, sugarcube. I'm really just proud of you for not givin' up. Can't say everypony I know would have powered through like that."
"Granted, most a' the ponies I know wouldn't have much trouble with a box of books, but that doesn't change what I'm tryin' to say."
He really wasn't appreciating Applejack's honesty right now. She always said whatever came to mind, no matter how it might make somepony feel.
So blunt. So straight-forward. So easy to expect.
She was wonderful to be around.
He would have told her so, but he was still gasping for breath on the floor. He made a mental note share to his appreciation later. She deserved to know how much he loved her.
Wait, what was that?
"Well sugarcube, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you about, but that can probably wait until later. You look like you could use some rest right now."
She was so considerate.
Well, not that considerate. If she was truly considerate, she would have helped him with his books instead of standing around laughing at his misfortune. Granted, he wouldn't have done much better in her place, but she was obviously supposed to have better morals than him.
He was the bad one, and she was the goody-four-shoes. That was their dynamic. Why was she upsetting it?
"Your bed is all set up in the room in the back, so you should get up off the floor. I know they got somepony to come and clean, but I still wouldn't trust it. Granny always says that dirt finds a way, and you don't want that way to be you ."
She was probably right. He would get off the floor as soon as he could feel his hooves again.
"Alright sugarcube, like I said, I got chores to do back home. But don't be afraid to come 'round If y'all need anything. You know you're always welcome on the farm."
He wheezed out a faint 'thank you', and he heard another hearty chuckle in response. She had such a nice laugh, it was all deep and comforting and stuff.
"Whatever you say, sugarcube. I'll see y'all later!"
A faint 'bye' made its way out of his lips as he heard the hoofsteps retreat. The faint noise of the door shutting echoed out through the mostly empty space, before the silence snuffed it out.
And there he sat. Alone, and in the silence. In the middle of an empty cottage on the border of the most dangerous woods in Equestria.
Just a little brown colt sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes.
He stared up at the wooden ceiling as his breathing gradually steadied, and he felt his eyes grow heavy under the weight of the day.
He hadn't really promised Applejack he would get up. He hadn't even said anything about it, so he wouldn't be letting anypony down if he didn't quite make it to his bed.
He briefly thought about looking for the box with his cloak in it so that he could use it as a blanket, but discarded the idea. That would be entirely too much work, nearly as much as getting up to go to his bed.
It was just so far away... And the floor was right here, so.....
What possible reason would there be for moving?
Author's Note
Well, this took a while.
You know how I said a while ago that I wouldn't have as much time for writing, then continued at the same pace as before?
That obviously hadn't lasted.
Yeah, life has been kicking my ass, taking up all the time I had been using to write. But there was another reason for the delay beyond that.
This chapter was just hard to write.
I don't know If I'm experiencing a creative slump, or if there was just something about this chapter that made it hard to focus; but either way, my flow seems to have abandoned me.
Or it could just be the difficulty I've had sleeping recently. Being tired all the time doesn't exactly put you in the mood for writing, huh?
Whatever the cause for the delays and difficulties, they happened. And I feel like this chapter suffered as a result. I'm super unhappy with how it came out, but I don't feel like there's a lot I can do about it without wanting to change large parts of it all at once.
So it's going to stay in its current mediocre quality. If I'm ever struck by creative genius, I may come back and revise it someday, but I don't really know about that.
Stay tuned for the next chapter, I guess?
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Celestial Year 998 AB
Light Flow couldn't imagine how this day could go well.
It hadn't started off so bad, so completely unsalvageable in every way. It had actually started out pretty okay. Not the best day, but It had potential.
In the morning, he had woken up in a typical position with his face planted into a book. That wasn't surprising or negative, since he often read well into the night.
His back sort of hurt from the awkward leaning, but It wasn't anything he wasn't used to.
After making sure he hadn't drooled on the book in his sleep, he had gone on with his usual routine. Donning his cloak, brushing his teeth, making a bowl of cereal.
Things he did everyday. Regular old activities. Nothing special, nothing surprising.
But there was one thing on the agenda that held merit.
He didn't often find reasons to leave his little isolated cabin, since he had pretty much everything he needed there. But one certain little menace kept him from becoming a complete shut-in, as it was today.
He was having lunch with Applejack.
The passage of time had been a little dubious as of late, and if not for her constant visits and meetings, he wasn't sure he wouldn't just spend months on end just reading.
She always seemed to find a way to bug him. Inviting him to the farm, or out to lunch. Coming to see him at the cottage, even if she only had an hour away from her work to spare.
Always making time, just for him.
Ugh.
His feelings were getting weird recently. It had been so much easier when she was just an annoying pest with orange hooves and a country accent.
Now she was an annoying pest who kept him anchored to reality.
It was pretty ironic, actually. Poetic, even.
Life for the Necromancer would be rendered dull without the intervention of the living.
He took a moment to ponder the thought as he slurped his way through another spoonful of milk. He had always been fond of writing dramatic poetry, and that one was particularly good. He made a mental note to find one of his notebooks so he could write it down.
Most of his poetry was just witty one liners about macabre things, but he did write other things too. All sorts of things, in fact. And it happened right here, at the very desk he was eating at.
It wasn't a very special desk. It didn't even look particularly impressive or scholarly, since he didn't keep books on it. He had learned his lesson about that not long after he moved in.
Turns out, having a precarious book stack next to a bowl of milk Is just asking for trouble.
Regardless of his shortcomings in the realm of intelligent thinking, this was still the desk where he wrote in his free time.
This milk stained desk was where the metaphorical magic happened. Also breakfast, but that wasn't as important or magical. Though there was a magical component, since he used his magic to pour things, but that wasn't the point.
What was the point? He really couldn't remember anymore. He should really start keeping sticky notes around or something. Quick access to writing material would make it far easier to organize his thoughts.
Eventually, there was no milk left to slurp, and no deep thoughts left to think about; so he stood up from his writing desk where he also happened to eat, and began preparations to leave.
Though, preparations was really just a big fancy word that actually meant loiter around aimlessly for a while.
He had never been incredibly fond of going outside, and the problem didn't abate when he moved here. Anypony with half a brain would be able to confidently guess the problem would only grow worse, and they would be absolutely right.
He really only ever left to go see Applejack. Sure, there was the occasional trip into town for supplies, but even those were few and far between. He could just as easily buy apples from Sweet Apple Acres and skip going into town altogether.
Today was different though. Applejack had invited him to lunch in Ponyville proper, and that meant having to contend with the throngs of ponies.
He quietly shuddered as he stared into his unlit hearth. There was probably a metaphor to be made there, but he was a little preoccupied with thoughts of social interaction .
Okay, it wasn't like he hated being around other ponies. He really didn't, as much as his best friend might argue otherwise.
It was just.... a little overwhelming sometimes. And not in the way most ponies would probably mean that.
There had been a time, back when his mother had died, when he had almost done a very horrible thing. Just a wild impulse that he had almost acted on. A future that he nearly made real.
He had always rationalized his grim visions and urges as a side effect of the emotional trauma, but nowadays he wasn't so sure.
There were times, when.. when he began to feel the urge again. Just occasionally, when there were a lot of ponies around...
A lot of souls around.
He began thinking again about what it would be like to hold one.
And that scared him.
The tiny little thought scared him so much, and he wasn't sure he would be strong enough to say no to himself if it ever got as bad as it was back then.
He could still faintly recall the sounds of the voices screaming in his ears. The horrible echoing from inside his own head.
He was so afraid of what he could do.
But he was more afraid of letting his own thoughts rule him.
The only thing he put stock in was cold, hard reality. Which was why it was a fact that he wouldn't let Applejack down.
He was going to that lunch. And nothing was going to stop him.
Light Flow cursed his bad luck that nothing had stopped him.
After leaving his cottage, he had made the short journey across the countryside to Ponyville. The pleasant sights of nature usually helped to calm his mind for the upcoming trials, and today was no different.
The sun was shining, the birds were flitting about every which way, and there was even a blooming field of flowers that hadn't been there the last time he had passed.
Such pleasant sights would have been his antithesis in his younger days, but he had been learning to enjoy conventionally pretty things. There didn't have to be some deeper meaning for something to be beautiful. Sometimes, things were just nice to look at.
Though he still wouldn't stop and smell the flowers. Who had the time for something like that?
He certainly didn't, especially since he was nearly late for lunch.
So, he had made his way to Ponyville, and into the town. There were several small crowds around, and he tried desperately not to look too hard at the ponies around him. It may not have been the biggest town, but nopony could say it wasn't busy.
A tourist would probably wonder if there was some sort of festival going on, but he knew Ponyville was just like this. Ponies standing around at small wooden stands, or sitting in front of little cafes, or even just gathered in little gabbing groups in the streets. It may have been poetic and cliché to call this town sleepy, but it was really anything but.
Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be multitudes of ponies milling at one place or another, just going about their business. He knew it wasn't their fault, but at the same time he really wished they could all just go home. It would be so much easier to meet up with Applejack if the streets were empty.
It was times like these he was thankful for his cape. Having his hood up really helped to take some of the pressure off, and it made it feel like there were less holes being burned into his skin. Granted, there were probably more ponies looking at him than there would be otherwise, but the important thing was that he couldn't feel it.
A pony bumped into him, and he stammered out an apology as they obliviously walked away. He didn't know why he was the one apologizing, but... well... somepony had to.
It was just the polite thing to do.
He really just wished he could go home.
But it was a little late for that. The outdoor restaurant where Applejack was waiting was coming into view. And actually, so was she.
He could make out an orange figure with a brown hat standing in front of the building talking to somepony. But who was that? It was a smaller figure, so it probably wasn't a waiter.
He squinted his eyes as he approached, trying to make out any sort of detail, before stopping dead in his tracks. He knew who that little pony next to Applejack was.
Apple Bloom...
Why? Why? Why? Why was she here?!
He ground his teeth together as he watched the little pony rear up to seemingly poke Applejack in the face. It seemed like they were having a good time waiting for him, which wasn't surprising. Applejack adored her little sister, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.
But he and Apple Bloom...
He let his hood down as the memories flowed through his head.
He had first met Applejack's little sister not long after meeting the orange pony herself. She had just been a baby at the time, and he actually thought she was pretty cute. He didn't normally like babies, or foals at all for that matter, but there was just something different about personally watching one grow up.
So throughout her childhood, he had been her big sister's cool friend who sometimes brought her presents. And he had enjoyed that. It was nice being around for a kid, though he tried his best not to influence her too much.
But recently, things had changed.
Neither he nor Applejack knew where she had picked it up, but somewhere along the way, Apple Bloom had become very interested in cutie marks.
Whenever she met anypony, she would ask them about their cutie mark. What it meant, how they got it, what it felt like, what they thought about it. If there was a question to be asked about a cutie mark, Apple Bloom would ask it.
And he was no exception.
It had started innocently enough. Just feeding her simple little lies about archeology. He had taken some time over the years to pick up a few basic facts to fool anypony that asked about it, so it hadn't been a problem at first.
But Apple Bloom was persistent. She wanted to know everything about it. She wanted a detailed story on how he got it, how he felt when he got it, what he did after getting it, and what he was planning to do with it.
She wanted to know facts, history, techniques, anything he had to give her on archeology. And he couldn't deliver.
Which was how she had been the first and only pony so far to discover his lie.
Ever since she had trapped him into admitting he didn't know anything about archeology, she had been hounding him relentlessly about his real talent. Obviously, he couldn't tell her, so all he could really do was put up with her badgering.
For an eight year old, she sure did have a way with words.
Oh no, she had seen him standing around. She was looking directly at him, and now Applejack was too. Now they were coming over to him with big smiles on their faces. That meant it was too late to run, and too late to hide. If they hadn't looked so happy he could have said he ran away because he didn't want to bother them while they were clearly emotionally upset.
Okay, he could do this. Just another game of Hide the Truth, a game he was so very good at.
Big smile. Big smile.
"Light Flow!"
A small furry mass catapulted itself into him, and he nearly fell under the sudden weight. Tiny hooves found their way around his collar, and wrapped themselves firmly around the back of his neck. Apple Bloom was a very touchy-feely kind of pony, and she often expressed this through impromptu hugs that probably had a fifty percent casualty rate.
He tentatively brought his hooves around the small weight attached to his neck, and eyed Applejack from where she was standing nearby with a nervous smile on her face. She knew very well what she had done.
"Hey there Bloom.... Uh... How're you today?" He managed to get out through the total collapse of his windpipe. She may have been small, but she was an earth pony, and an Apple besides. It was really no wonder that she was the strongest little filly he had ever met.
Instead of answering like a normal pony, Apple Bloom took the chance to whisper something in his ear, quiet enough so her sister couldn't hear.
"Are y'all gonna tell me yer special talent today?"
He tried not to let his weariness show on his face. Of course she would take the chance to pester him, he hadn't expected anything less. He didn't know why Applejack had brought her sister along today, but he was already feeling like the entire lunch was going to be far longer than expected; as well as being far less pleasant.
Light Flow's day was officially ruined.
"I've told you a million times, Bloom. It's more like the.. uh ... study of Archeology. That's why there's a book under the skull."
"So tell me some things about what you've studied! Unless you can't...?"
Light Flow really felt like he was the one being studied.
So far, things had gone basically as predicted. They had all exchanged pleasantries once Apple Bloom had extracted herself from his neck, and they had proceeded with the lunch.
However, first he told Apple Bloom to pick one of the empty tables outside to eat at, and once he was sure she was preoccupied, he had taken Applejack aside.
"Why did you bring her?!" He whispered harshly. She knew how much Apple Bloom made him uncomfortable, and she also knew how infrequently he partook in social activities like this. He had actually been looking forward to having lunch, but now it was all ruined, and he wanted to know why .
Applejack at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. Her ever-present nervous smile dipped down, and she heaved a sigh as she closed her eyes.
"Sorry, sugarcube. There was nothin' else to do with her. Granny's out with her friends today, and Big Mac's laid up with a cold. There was nopony else to look after her, so I had to bring her."
Her eyes opened, and they flicked up to his. She was doing that sad look that always made him feel bad, when her eyes got bigger and her nose scrunched just a little. Of course there was no way he was going to get out of this conversation while still being mad. He could already feel his inner fire waning, and he knew it wasn't going to stay lit for long.
"You never used to get this mad when Apple Bloom was around. What happened between you two? Y'all used to get along like an apple and a stem, but now you can hardly stand to be near her."
Ugh .
There went all of the mad feelings. Rightly so, too. He really didn't have much ground to stand on in this conflict.
Of course it wasn't Applejack's fault, she had a duty to her family. He couldn't just tell her to leave her little sister home alone. What kind of a friend would do that?
It wasn't really Apple Bloom's fault either. So she was curious, that wasn't a crime. Maybe she came on too strong, but nopony could get too mad at a kid for that. She would grow out of it eventually.
His frown took on a different hue, and he sighed.
"I'm sorry Applejack, I don't know what got into me. I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"I don't really know what to say about Apple Bloom either. We just.... I just.... I-"
"I found a table! "
A yellow blur interjected itself between the two of them very suddenly. A pair of reddish-orange eyes bounced between him and Applejack rapidly, like they were trying to look at both of them at once.
Apple Bloom seemed to have found a table.
He and Applejack stared at each other for a moment longer before she looked down at the smaller pony with a smile.
"That's great Apple Bloom! Why don't we go sit down?"
The aforementioned smaller pony nodded and bounced off towards her table of choice. He really had no idea where she got all her energy from.
Applejack took another moment to stare back into his eyes with that same sad look, before trotting off to join her sister.
Which was how the lunch started. Nothing but bad feelings and worse omens.
Despite his temporary reconciliation with Applejack, he still had very low expectations for the activity.
And he was absolutely correct.
There was nopony else sitting outside, and there was a surprising lack of ponies nearby, which was quite odd now that he thought about it. It was noon, and they were at a fairly well-known restaurant, yet there was just an array of empty metal chairs and tables.
The uncharacteristic lack of passersby left them quite alone. Alone. Just them, their food, and Apple Bloom's country accent.
While his alfredo noodles with mushrooms were great, the conversation topics were less so. Applejack and Apple Bloom had both predictably ordered apple based dishes, because apparently they didn't eat anything else.
Apple Bloom's food was nearly untouched though, since she had been too busy asking questions the entire time. She seemed determined to publicly reveal his secret, but so far he had been doing a decent job of fending her off.
Applejack paused mid-bite of some sort of pie to glare at Apple Bloom following her most recent question.
"Now Apple Bloom, we talked about buggin' ponies about their cutie marks! 'Sides, you've barely been touchin' your food!"
It was about time Applejack tried to reel her sister in, especially since at some point she had reared up onto the table in some sort of strange fit of excitement.
Apple Bloom turned her head away from him to stare at her sister. He couldn't see, but he guessed her eyes were looking all big and watery by now. It was the sort of face every little pony learned to use as a very effective weapon.
"But Applejaaack ...."
"No buts, Apple Bloom! Now I want y'all to sit down and eat, and cut it out with the questions! Yer pesterin' is upsettin' Light Flow."
His face twisted in indignation. While he appreciated Applejack coming to his rescue, she was kind of making it sound like he couldn't handle a filly.
Okay, maybe she was right. But she didn't have to say it like that!
Either way, Apple Bloom listened to her sister, however reluctantly. The small yellow pony muttered something under her breath and took her hooves off the metal surface. She sat down fully in her chair, and stared petulantly into her untouched apple soup.
Applejack sighed at her sister's childishness, and stared down at her own half-finished food. It didn't seem as if she was too keen on making conversation at the moment, however awkward it may be. Usually, Applejack loved filling the empty space in the air with pointless chatter; but it looked as if she had lost the taste for it.
He certainly wasn't going to start up a conversation, since Apple Bloom might take it as initiative to keep bothering him. If Applejack was content to sit in silence, then he was too.
No matter how silent the silence was.
He felt a lump grow in his throat, and he put his fork down. He didn't really have the appetite to finish his noodles.
A perfectly good day, it should have been.
"So, did you hear?!"
His ear perked at the sudden voice cutting through the noiseless din, and he looked up from his half-finished dish to see who had spoken.
The Apple siblings were still ignoring each other like children, and the voice didn't have a country accent besides. It was more of a valley girl-ish tone.
He looked over Apple Bloom's chair to see another pair of ponies who had taken a seat at the next table. One of the ponies was facing away from him, so all he could see was a cream-colored coat and a pink and purple curly mane.
Her soul was pretty strange though. It was an ugly brown shade, which was weird by itself but not really what caught his attention.
He could barely see it.
Her entire soul was somewhat transparent, even more than the regular transparency that most souls boasted. He could just barely focus on it at all, and it was a miracle it was visible at all.
He had never seen a soul like that before. He hadn't read anything about it either, and he could only wonder what it meant.
Was she close to death? Was it some sort of mutation? Maybe it was a curse of some kind?
He would have to give it some more thought later, when he wasn't in the company of Apples.
He turned his attention away from the regular pony with the weird soul, and focused on her friend.
The other pony, the one who had spoken, was a minty green unicorn. She was actually facing him, so he could make out some more details, like her golden eyes and generally pretty face.
Those eyes were somewhat subdued at the moment, but there was an underlying excitement underneath the monotony. She was probably quite the hyperactive pony, or at least excitable.
Her soul seemed to back this up, with the way the little green light flashed and spun slightly.
It was always so much fun to guess personality traits based on souls, even when he turned out to be wrong. Though, from what he had read, it was possible his guesses were still correct even when they didn't seem to be. Some ponies seemed desperate to act differently from how they really felt, though their souls would always show the truth.
He was getting distracted, like usual. He tried to focus on the ponies in front of him, and not their souls.
He was pretty sure he had seen them around a lot, and they always seemed to be together. If he had to guess, he would probably say they were dating or something, though he had been wrong about that kind of thing before.
He couldn't even remember how that topic had come up with Rarity, and he certainly had no idea how Rainbow Dash had been involved. Probably one of his worst conversational blunders, and absolutely his most painful.
Regardless of his past failures, he was desperate for something to fill the silence, so he did his best to tune into whatever conversation the other ponies were having. Of course, he also acted suitably inconspicuous, since it wouldn't do to get caught eavesdropping.
"Why yes Harp, I did hear about that. I'm so glad you brought it up in such a clear and concise manner, it makes the topic far easier to understand."
A sweet voice, drizzled with bitter sarcasm. A delicious combination of flavors, and 'Harp' seemed to think so too, judging by the way she giggled.
"Sorry, Bennie! Sometimes I forget not everypony is thinking the same things I am!"
'Bennie' sighed at Harp's ditzy words, which must have been routine with how practiced it sounded. What kind of a name was Bennie , though? He had never heard anything like that. It must have been some sort of nickname, because it just didn't make sense otherwise.
He was trying not to look at them too much, so he missed what sounded like one of them pouring a glass of water. It was Harp's voice that came next, and she sounded like she was trying to whisper in her loudest voice, which was kind of weird.
"I mean, did you hear about the zebra ?"
His eyes widened as he suddenly became very interested in their conversation. He still wasn't looking at them, but he tried to angle his ear towards their table as imperceptibly as possible.
"Oh. Yeah, I think I heard about it. You mean the zebra that ponies say just moved into the Everfree Forest?"
He blinked rapidly as he tried to digest this new information. He hadn't thought it was possible to become any more invested in a conversation, especially one he wasn't even a part of. He licked his lips as he leaned slightly over the table.
"Yeah! But did you hear that the zebra is also apparently some sort of shaman or something? Isn't that spooky ?"
If it was possible to die of intrigue, Light Flow was certain he would have keeled over at that very moment.
He gave up on listening to the strangers' conversation. He had everything he needed.
He leaned back in his chair, and stared down at his noodles.
A zebra. A zebra shaman. A zebra shaman living in the Everfree Forest.
There was a zebra shaman living in the Everfree Forest.
This was officially the best day ever.
He tried to hide a wide smile behind his collar, but he was sure he was failing miserably. He leaned forward, and grasped his discarded fork in his magic.
He speared an errant noodle with the utensil, and raised it up to look at it in the light. He stared at it for a moment, before opening his mouth.
"So, Applejack. Has anything interesting happened on the farm recently?"
The reflection of a suddenly chatty brown unicorn was very clear in a set-aside full glass.
A cream-colored earth pony stared down at the clear surface, before turning her cerulean eyes on her grinning friend.
The green unicorn leaned forward, and whispered much more quietly than before.
"So, Bonnie. Was that good?"
She felt her smile widen, and she leaned forward to lovingly touch her nose to her partner's.
"That was perfect, Lyra."
Author's Note
Hey there friends and whatnot!
Been feeling better about writing recently, and I think I actually like this chapter. I feel like it's way better than the stuff I've been putting out recently, though feel free to correct me if you think otherwise.
So, because I'm an impatient asshole, I'm putting this chapter out right now. It would probably be a good idea to wait until I hear back from my blog post, but who cares?! Rational decisions are for chumps!
I'll be honest, I never know what to say in these. I literally have no idea what else I should put here.
Have a good day, I guess?
bonus points to anyone who can guess the name of next chapter
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was cautiously optimistic.
Most of the time, he tried not to get too excited about anything. Excitement generally lead to raised expectations, and that usually led to an underwhelming payoff. So instead of imagining an impossible future, he prepared himself for the worst outcome. Your hopes couldn't be let down if they were never up in the first place, after all.
Pessimism may not have been the healthiest mindset, but at least he was always ready for failure.
But this time, he was allowing himself a small trickle of hope.
Okay, maybe more than a trickle.
Okay , maybe he was a little obsessed with the thought.
Ever since he had overheard about the zebra shaman at lunch yesterday, his mind had been running rampant with theories. He wanted to know who the zebra was so badly, he could barely contain himself. He had hardly been able to sleep at all, and his dreams were filled with thoughts of kinship.
What possible reason would a zebra have to move into the Everfree?
Were they an emissary from Zebrica? An exile? Some sort of traveling immigrant?
He didn't actually know anything about Zebrica or its inhabitants, so he couldn't really make any solid guesses.
Come to think of it, he didn't even really know what a shaman was.
It was just one of those words that everypony knew. It just had certain connotations, a certain meaning that generally related to spooky magic shenanigans.
He was so clueless, he really only could describe it with the word 'shenanigans'.
Regardless of his shrinking vocabulary, he was interested. If there was spooky magic to study, he wanted to know about it.
If there was a spooky magic practitioner, he wanted to meet them.
Which was why he had woken up at dawn and spent over an hour making himself look presentable. Most of the time, he totally neglected his looks. He was completely fine with looking messy and frazzled, because there was a good chance that he was messy and frazzled at any given time.
But first impressions mattered, and that meant brushing his mane.
The bristles cutting through the tangles may have hurt, but social embarrassment would hurt more . Standing in front of his bathroom mirror with a brush in his magic and tears in his eyes was a small price to pay for a clean appearance.
After he had tamed the wild locks of his mane, he set about brushing his coat. That experience was far more pleasant, though it didn't take any less time.
Okay, so maybe he had brushed his coat for longer than was necessary, but so what? It felt nice, and he didn't do it often.
He was usually so busy with studying, he never really found any time to pamper himself. He had never seen any real reason to make himself look nice, since it wasn't like he had anypony to look nice for.
Maybe that would have to change. Looking at his fluffy, well brushed mane in the mirror didn't make him feel as awkward as he usually did. He actually felt sort of... okay?
He had never given any thought to whether he had confidence issues. It had always just been sort of a given that he wasn't attractive or noteworthy, and he tried not to dwell on it. There was no point in making yourself look good if you were just going to hide yourself under a billowing cloak and an uncaring face, after all.
But now he was pretty sure he could recognize he had a problem. Maybe more than one.
Usually, when he looked in a mirror, he saw a villain staring back at him.
But that brown unicorn with the red and brown mane in the mirror didn't look like some villain or a monster. He didn't look like the kind of pony a mother would steer her kids away from, or gossip about to neighborhood watch members.
He didn't look like the kind of pony passersby would cringe at when he went somewhere. He didn't look like a pony who felt out of place, no matter where he was.
It was just him, and he looked nice.
Light Flow felt nice.
He frowned at himself in the mirror, and watched the way his muscles moved as his small smile turned down. Just the little imperceptible shifts in his face that came with any sort of movement.
He shook his head a little to see how his mane would react, and stared as his soft-looking hair swished noiselessly from side to side.
He leaned closer to the mirror to stare unblinkingly at his eyes. The little black pools surrounded by a flawed brown embankment, which itself was surrounded on all sides by a greater sea of pure white nothingness.
He blinked a few times, and watched as his pupils grew and shrunk slightly. Eyes were weird.
He leaned back, away from the doppelganger in the mirror.
He flicked an ear, and watched the small extremity as it folded onto his head. Was that how that looked?
Pony ears were pretty unanimously cute. It was a trait he had noticed while pony watching, and he had been wondering if his ears were as cute as the rest.
His greatest fears had been realized.
He had never really taken any time to look at himself very hard, which, now that he thought about it, was probably a side effect of what he now recognized as a self-confidence issue.
He slowly brought a hoof up to his head, and lightly placed it onto his horn. He ran his hoof over the small ridges, and let out a sigh. He had always been more than a little insecure about the size of his horn. It was just a little shorter than what was apparently the average, and that bothered him.
He was pretty sure there had been studies about how horn length didn't actually relate to anything, but he couldn't help it. However unsubstantiated his doubts may be, they were still there.
But maybe he didn't need to feel so self-conscious? The average-ish sized protrusion on his head actually looked pretty good the way it was. In fact, it was possible it would look worse if it was any longer.
Maybe five inches wasn't so bad.
He let his hoof fall onto the wooden floor, and closed his eyes as he breathed a shuddering sigh.
What was he even doing? Getting distracted was a common occurrence, but his lapse of attention was usually somewhat focused on normal things.
Like souls, and trying to guess how a pony was feeling.
Getting hung up on how he looked was just... asinine . He had real things to worry about.
Like zebras, and cursed forests.
He opened his eyes, and turned away from the mirror.
Light Flow was beginning to have second thoughts.
Though, it wasn't because he didn't want to meet the zebra. He was still feeling quite a bit of excitement on that front. No, the problem was more rooted in the question of whether this excursion as a whole was a good idea. Looking back on it, he wasn't sure why he had been so gung-ho on rushing into the forest as soon as possible.
Because, in truth, he had no idea where in Tartarus he was supposed to go.
Getting into the forest was easy, he went there all the time. The dark and foreboding woods were practically an extension of his home, especially since his home was already kind of in the woods.
It wasn't as if the Everfree made any real attempt to stop ponies from wandering in. The real challenge was finding your way around.
It went beyond the usual puzzles of navigating a forest. Sure, it was hard to spot landmarks when the land was marked by a million uniform trees, but there was something else.
It was common to say the Everfree was cursed, but there was reason for it other than scaring foals.
Nopony was really sure what magic was at play, but experts agreed that there was a high concentration of unknown energy saturating the dark woods.
Well, Her Royal Highness might know, but she wasn't telling.
He was sure there had been efforts to study the woods, but he couldn't find any history of excursions. It was likely that all attempts were met with tragedy and failure, but it was still strange that there was no public documentation.
The actual scope of the effects were little more than hearsay, and there was apparently nothing in the way of research, but it was commonly agreed that the woods did something to screw with direction.
It could be as tame as messing with a pony's internal compass, or it could be as huge as actually bending the space within itself. Nopony knew.
Usually, he didn't have a lot of trouble finding his way around; though his excursions were always bereft of any actual destination. Through his aimless wandering, and whatever he had heard as gossip, he had learned that the forest would pretty much just spit travelers out wherever it wanted.
The only real option for navigation was to keep walking in what seemed to be one direction, and praying to a deity that the forest was 'feeling' nice.
He didn't know why, but he was pretty sure the forest liked him. It had never lead him off a cliff, or into a den of monsters, or anything generally terrible. He would spend his time wandering, and eventually just wind up back where he started.
He also occasionally found his way back to the giant tree where he had spent a few sad nights recovering from his mother's death. He had since moved his reading material to his basement, so there wasn't really any need to return; but sometimes it was nice to reminisce.
Right now though, he couldn't find anything .
He had been wandering around the woods for what was probably at least two hours, and he hadn't seen anything but trees.
Trees. As far as the eye could see. Nothing but an endless sea of grays browns and greens.
He huffed as he was forced to change direction for the seventh time, having to avoid an especially dense group of trees.
Normally, he liked taking walks in the Everfree. The dank atmosphere helped him think, and it nurtured his negativity. Maybe that last thing wasn't as good as it used to be, but it served its purpose.
But right now, he was just annoyed.
He had been so excited about finding somepony else who might understand him, he hadn't given much thought to anything else. As it turned out, it was somewhat hard to find a single zebra in the middle of a huge magical forest.
What if those ponies at lunch yesterday had also said something about where in the forest the zebra lived? Had he tuned out important info?
He grimaced as the unpleasant thought made its way to his mind. He came to a stop as the path branched off in three directions, and internally cursed himself.
Even though directions were useless here, it still would have been nice to have some idea of where he was supposed to go.
All of the paths looked practically identical, so he turned down the right path. Everypony knew the best strategy was to always go right when you were lost.
Or was it left?
He bit his lip as he turned his attention away from the messy 'path' in front of him. It was probably a bad idea to get distracted with all of the obstacles around, but he needed to figure out what he had learned growing up.
It was right, right? Because the 'right' path is always the right path? Yeah, that was definitely it.
Or was it 'right' is wrong, so go left? 'Left' is left, and 'right' is right? Right is left, so go left? Was left right?
The word 'left' was beginning to sound like gibberish...
Was it too late to turn around? Maybe the forest would let him go down the left path instead of-
His train of thought suddenly completely derailed, and he felt his mouth gape open unheeded.
What stood before him was something very familiar, yet altogether different.
It was a large tree, stretching up beyond the regular height of most of its surroundings. It was gnarled and warped, growing out in odd leaning directions that actually weren't very odd when compared to the usual foliage.
The roots of the massive tree spread out unevenly over the ground, forming little canopies and holes that were perfect for animals to hide in.
Or scared little colts.
The bark was a great deal lighter than the rest of the trees', with their deadened browns and frozen greys. If the rest of the Everfree looked dead, then this was one of the few 'alive' trees in the entirety of the woods.
Though, looks could be deceiving. This tree in particular was almost certainly dead.
A contemplative frown made its way onto his face, and he slowly walked forward as he took in the scene in front of him.
It had been around two months or so since he had returned to this place, and it had undergone some rather drastic changes. Most notably, somepony seemed to have carved it out. There were two openings in the bark that looked like windows, judging by the dim light shining out of them; as well as a larger spot of off-colored wood that was likely the front door.
Above him, there were multiple colorful bottles hanging from large outstretched branches, though he had no idea what they were for, since he couldn't quite make out whether they held anything inside. He counted around eight bottles, and they rested comfortably at varying levels. They looked cool, at least.
There was also what looked to be a big wooden mask stuck into the ground to the side of a darker path up to the door. He wasn't actually sure if it was really a mask, though. It was just about the same size as him, so there was pretty much no way any normal sized pony could wear it as anything other than a shell.
He had stopped in front of the wooden 'mask' to take in its details and try to glean any meaning from the patterns, but the longer he stared at the cartoonishly oversized lips and the painted cheeks, the more unsettled he became. He shuffled his hoof on the ground for a moment before looking away from the mask.
Even though its eyes were closed, he could tell it was still staring at him.
Putting creepy decorations aside, it was very clear that somepony had taken up residence in this tree.
Or somezebra ...
Was that correct? Somezebra sounded kind of dumb, but he wasn't sure if that was just because it was a foreign word. For all he knew, 'somepony' could sound just as dumb to zebras.
He would probably just use the all-inclusive 'someone' in front of the zebra, just to be safe. First impressions would likely sour in the looming face of cultural misappropriation.
He was nearing the wooden door now, and he could see the handle was likewise made out of wood. A little unconventional, but thematically appropriate.
He came to a stop in front of the door, and stared owlishly up at another mask adorning the entryway. This one looked a great deal like a brown skull, and he couldn't help but think that there was a chance he could be walking into danger.
If this shaman was anything like him, they probably enjoyed their privacy; and unlike him, they probably had a way to enforce their privacy.
He had no way to protect himself if things went badly.
He bit his lip as he eyed the well-crafted wooden doorknob, and he felt trepidation begin to fill him.
Why was he doing this? What did he hope to gain?
Had he really been foolish enough to traipse off to the residence of someone dangerous enough to survive in the Everfree Forest?
He was starting to feel very stupid. What was wrong with him?
Like he would have anything in common with someone like whoever lived here. He should leave. He should just turn around, and go back-
Okay, there was something cold on the back of his covered neck.
Okay, that cold thing was sharp .
Okay, he was pretty sure there was someone behind him.
Okay, he was in danger.
A deep, yet unmistakably female voice reached his ears, and he felt his fur stand on end.
"A spectre comes unheeded to my door, yet it knows not what lies in store."
It was a little hard to think, what with the immanent danger and all, but he was pretty sure he had found his zebra. His mother had told him that especially spiritual zebras only spoke in rhymes, to honor some ancient tradition or something. She may have elaborated, but again, the sharp object poised to rip through his cloak and into his flesh was sort of blocking his major thought processes.
He swallowed slightly, and raised his head slightly. He could feel the weapon pressing against his cloak and subtly digging into his nape, thankfully not hard enough to leave a mark, but definitely enough to make him fear the possibilty of pain.
And there was no doubt he was afraid.
The zebra's voice came again, quiet and steady. She was in control here, and her unwavering volume and calm tone reflected that.
"A month it has barely been, since I came here, far from kin. A misunderstanding so terrible, my presence was no longer bearable."
"So I was forced to move. I come to this dark place, with nothing to lose. Then, from out of the blue; a horrible shadow comes through."
"There's no such thing as luck, in this I am adamant. Your arrival here at my home was no accident."
"Why have you come here to this post? Were you looking for me? Speak, you terrible ghost!"
Her voice was beginning to take on a harder edge as she likely grew angrier. He didn't blame her, honestly. He would've been angry too if he found someone trespassing on his property a month after he moved.
Though, he didn't think he was capable of threatening their life; not yet, at least.
It was strange, him thinking about things like that. The fear he was feeling was by no means a small amount, but he didn't think he was as afraid as he should've been.
He was definitely on edge, and the itching sensation under his skin was probably a result of increased adrenaline, but there wasn't much more than that. The cold fire in his veins wasn't a roaring inferno like it should've been, burning through his body and filling him with the desire to live; it was more like a calm blaze in a warm hearth.
It spread through his body, providing him with energy and increased focus. He felt extremely aware of his situation, though staring intently at a door wasn't providing him with any helpful answers.
If he was turned towards his aggressor, he was sure he could do an incredibly detailed analysis on her and probably devise some sort of plan to incapacitate her.
But, as it was, he was staring at a door; and his panic-induced focus was spent on wishing he was doing something more assertive.
He could try using his magic, but everything he had ever read about combat was telling him that it would probably be a bad idea. If this zebra really was a shaman, she would be able to tell if he tried anything even approaching prestidigitation.
In his situation, he had to comply with whatever the zebra said, and that meant he had to give her an answer. Even if he really had no idea why she was calling him a ghost.
"Ah..." He started off slowly and quietly, trying his best to sound compliant. "I'm not quite sure what you mean exactly..?"
Okay, that was dumb. Why was he asking her questions? He was the one at the end of the knife, and he had no right to be asking things. That was like trying to put yourself in a position of power, and that wasn't what he wanted at all. If he was in her position, he would probably poke a little harder with that weapon, just to make sure his victim fully understood the situation.
He really wished he could hit himself in the face without getting stabbed. This was literally the worst time to think about things like that.
Luckily for him, the zebra didn't think like he did, and actually responded to his question. Though, she didn't sound all that sure of herself anymore. There was a slight wavering quality to her voice that hadn't been there a moment ago.
"It... speaks ? Oh, ah... tell me, creature , what it is you seek?"
She sounded confused , and if he heard right, that rhyme barely fit.
His eyes narrowed, and he peered at the corner of his vision. He couldn't see, but it sounded like she might've been losing conviction. The knife wasn't moving from its firm spot on his cloak, but maybe....?
His eyes flicked up at the skull-like mask hanging above him.
All of the stupidest things he had ever done, this was going to be the stupidest. Seriously, did he have any brain at all?
He took in one deep breath, before letting it out.
He lit his horn, and leaned forward as much as he could while he waited for the magic to flow through the correct pathways. It would take about a second for his levitation to kick on, but he was pretty sure a weapon could travel the infinitesimal distance to plunge into his neck much faster.
Which was why he was really hoping the zebra was caught off guard.
He blinked, and he felt the spell take hold. He instantly attempted to reach for the knife, desperately hoping he had enough time before the zebra realized what he was doing and literally cut his attempt at retaliation off.
His magic coalesced around the blade, which was in the process of... moving away from his neck?
What?
He kept a hold on the knife as it retreated, and quickly spun around to press himself against the door once he was sure he could do so safely.
His eyes quickly focused on the black and white figure in front of him, and he zeroed in on the jagged edge of a small painted knife held in the crook of the figure's hoof.
It looked... dull? Was that thing ceremonial?
He looked up at the face of what was undoubtedly a female zebra, and noticed her wide cyan eyes and open mouth. He had definitely caught her by surprise, though he was beginning to think it wouldn't have mattered.
His nostrils flared as his breath came quickly and deeply, and he could feel a tingling sensation in his ears. He had just made a huge gamble for his life, and it worked . He was pretty sure he was in shock or something, because all he could feel was a spreading sense of jubilation. He had to actively fight to keep a smile off his face.
He fought for his life. He wasn't a coward.
As he basked in the rushing feeling of triumph, he took a moment to look over the zebra. He had only ever seen them in pictures, and only heard them described in various history books. Zebras didn't really come to Equestria due to the apparently strained political climate, so having the chance to see one with his own eyes was a treat.
She looked cool, he supposed.
There wasn't a lot more to say, really. He was finding it hard to think incredibly nice thoughts about the creature who had been threatening his life mere moments ago, even if that threat was starting to seem bogus.
Her grey coat and darker stripes made for some good contrast, and her gravity defying mohawk was certainly something to behold; but really, he just couldn't muster up a lot of admiration for the zebra.
What a great first impression.
He licked his lips as the zebra blinked slowly. She seemed to be recovering from her shock, though he thought it was a little unfair for her to be acting so dazed. It wasn't as if he was just standing around doing nothing, and he had almost died.
Sort of.
The zebra's owlish gaze dipped down to the knife she was holding, before moving back up to his face. Her mouth flapped uselessly for a moment, before she suddenly let the knife fall from her grasp. It fell to the ground noiselessly, and the zebra finally seemed to regain her bearings.
"A... pony..?"
Okay, maybe she hadn't regained anything. Also, she hadn't rhymed; which, if anything, was telling of how she was feeling at the moment.
There were enough context clues to formulate some vague hypothesis. Obviously, his cloak had made him look far more menacing than he really was, and she hadn't known he was just a pony. That was why she threatened him, and that was why she had backed off when he used his magic. She had realized he wasn't a threat, and now, it seemed as if she was feeling badly about nearly sticking a knife into him.
Although...
His eyes trailed down to the knife laying on the ground. It was relatively small, and the purple-edged blade was just an inch or so smaller than his horn. It was jagged and worn, and it really didn't look as if it could be used to actually hurt anything.
Even if she had stabbed him with that thing, it would probably just leave a shallow cut. Probably not much worse than a scratch from Rarity's demon cat.
His eyes trailed back up to the zebra, who was looking very bashful. Her head was tilted down, her eyes were pointedly staying away from him, and one of her hooves was making small circles in the dirt. The air of general tension around her was almost palpable.
He almost felt bad for her. But she had pointed a knife at him, so he couldn't give entirely into pity.
He licked his lips again, and looked up at the dark canopy of leaves. There were no clues as to what he should do up there, and he soon looked back down.
He took a moment to mull it over. He couldn't just stand here in silence forever, and it didn't seem like the zebra was going to do anything anytime soon. She was content to let the awkward situation simmer, like some sort of neglected cauldron.
As cool and relevant as that metaphor was, it wasn't actually helping him think.
He had a couple options. He could blow up at her, as was his right. While it would be cathartic and just, he wasn't sure if it was the best thing to do at the moment. Their first meeting was bad enough as is, and he didn't really want to bog it down with more negative feelings.
He wasn't even that angry. Why should he have been? She may have made a threat, but it hadn't even been real. She had no way to actually hurt him with that dull little dagger.
If he put his best hoof forward here, even despite her actions, it would likely go a long way towards a good relationship. She didn't seem to be all that bad of a creature, really. She seemed to genuinely regret what she had done, or at least she was good at mimicking remorse.
And he could respect that.
He took a deep breath. He was going to metaphorically swallow his pride here, what little he had at least.
He loudly cleared his throat.
The zebra's head snapped up to come level with his almost instantly. He actually jumped a little from the unexpected movement. He hadn't expected such... attentiveness?
She must have been desperate for something to fill the silence, too.
He bit the inside of his cheek, before opening his mouth, "Uh.... Hey there? My, uh ... my name is Light Flow."
The zebra took a step back as he spoke, and her hoof raised in front of her. Her jaw was set, and her eyes were animated, yet guarded. Her entire bearing screamed that she was ready and willing to bolt any second now.
That was very odd. She could clearly see that he was just a regular pony, and he clearly wasn't angry with her. What had her spooked?
She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if she wasn't sure what to say. Then, she opened it once more, and began to speak.
Her voice was low, and her tone was wary. "A regular pony it seems to be, yet I can tell there is more to see.. Tell me, under that cloak, Is there a body? Or simply smoke?"
He scrunched his face in confusion. What did she mean? He clearly wasn't a ghost.
He raised a hoof, and used it to pull back his cloak. The zebra took another step back as he did, and he rolled his eyes. He could understand caution, but now she was just being ridiculous. As cool as it would be, he couldn't turn into smoke, and that should've been obvious.
If he could do that, she wouldn't have been able to hold him at knife-point.
"There, see? I'm just a normal pony, with a normal body, with the normal amount of intangibility. No ghosts here." He waved his cloak's edge around as he spoke, flapping it up and down to show off as much of his body as possible. He felt completely ridiculous, but he would do whatever he needed to lay this zebra's fears at rest.
His impromptu peep show seemed to help a little, and her posture relaxed slightly; but she still looked on edge.
"There was no doubt you are not a ghost, but to another problem, you may be host..." She murmured softly.
Her eyes roved over his body, and he let his cape fall back into place. Her piercing gaze was actually making him feel a little self-conscious. His epiphany from this morning could take a back seat for now.
"Well, whatever problem you have with me, it doesn't excuse your lack of a name." He was beginning to get a bit annoyed, and he let it show in his expression. He didn't want to bring up the assault, but he wasn't afraid of using other ponies' regrets against them. If she didn't feel like giving him the common courtesy of her name , he was just going to give up and go home.
His dipping mood seemed to snap the zebra out of whatever trance she was in. She took a deep breath and stepped towards him, her eyes still intently trained on him, as if he was going to leap out and attack her at any moment.
"I am known as Zecora to all creatures, whether they be flora or fauna" She stopped a few hoof-lengths in front of him, and looked him in the eyes. "Please forgive me for my attack, for I was sure I had walked into a trap."
Her eyes searched his intently, and he almost felt compelled to look away. "Your form appears normal, yet your heart appears dark. A horrible feeling to behold, something has made its mark.."
He stared into her inquisitive cyan eyes as she spoke. He didn't know what she was talking about, but he sort of understood her suspicion.
After all, there was something he was suspicious about too. Something he had been ignoring until now.
Something that was making it hard to fully trust this 'Zecora'.
He wasn't going to break eye contact to confirm it, but he was sure enough.
He couldn't see her soul.
He had been so caught up in the excitement, he hadn't noticed until she was walking towards him. Where her soul should've been, there was just... nothing.
It reminded him of the mare he had seen at lunch yesterday, but this was far more concerning. The lunch mare's soul was just slightly transparent, just a little hard to see. Zecora's soul was completely gone, there was absolutely nothing there at all.
What could have caused it?
He narrowed his eyes as he stared into the guarded expression of the eccentric zebra. She had been saying something, hadn't she? He should respond, and keep up appearances as a normal pony with nothing to hide. There was no reason to call her out on her missing soul, that would just expose his own secret.
Best to keep it under his hood for now. Whatever kinship he had been hoping to find here was a total bust, and he was beginning to feel like he should be wary of Zecora. He had no idea why he couldn't see her soul, but it was making him uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, I'm quite sure I have no idea what you're talking about." He did his best to sound just as indignant as he was before. He didn't want Zecora to catch onto his rapidly growing distrust.
The zebra watched him silently for another moment before responding. "Tell me, friend named Light; what caused you to seek me out? Have you some sort of plight?"
Light and plight? Really? He was beginning to think this zebra didn't know how to rhyme at all.
He didn't let it show on his face, but he could feel a smile growing inside him. Two could play the game of terrible rhymes.
"Your whereabouts I heard yesterday at lunch, and I rashly followed an ill-suited hunch." He finished his foal-level rhyme, and stared at Zecora, waiting for a reaction. If she was going to unnerve him, he was going to unnerve her.
His vindictive pleasure quickly abated when the zebra showed no visible reaction; rather, she seemed to ignore his rhyme altogether. His face remained neutral, but he was internally grumbling. Was his presence the only thing that upset her?
Zecora's face turned down in apparent confusion. "Such a rumor should not be heard, for I have been rather like a caged bird. I have not left these woods since I arrived, so your knowledge appears nearly contrived."
His eyes widened before he could stop them, and he cursed internally. Putting his lack of composure aside, that bit of information was especially strange. What did she mean she hadn't left? How else could a rumor have been passed around?
Nothing was adding up. A strange mare with a barely visible soul just happens to talk about a zebra shaman right behind his lunch table? And this zebra just happens to live in the Everfree forest, a place where he spent an unhealthy amount of time? And this supposed shaman also happens to have a soul he couldn't see at all?
He believed in coincidences, but this was too much.
He licked his lips as he stared at the anomalous mare in front of him. There was too much he didn't know. He had to gather more information somehow.
He knew what to do.
He closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. There was a large chance this wasn't going to work. He was really taking a big leap, and he wasn't sure if he was going to land.
Here went nothing.
He opened his eyes, and stared into cautious cyan.
"Zecora, I feel like we're getting off on the wrong hoof here." He didn't quite make his voice friendly, just something approaching optimism. Anything further would probably have sounded fake, especially coming off the near-open hostility they had both been displaying.
It didn't matter if his good will actually was fake. He just had to sound genuine.
"I'm not sure what about me is so off-putting, but I'm sure we can both agree threatening me with a knife was a bit much, don't you think?" This was especially important. He had to make her backpedal from suspicion, and into regret; otherwise she wouldn't calm down.
His recollection of her rash actions seemed to have an effect. Her face turned down, and she finally broke eye-contact to slowly turn her eyes to the ground. He could guess from her general demeanor that she was normally fairly level-headed, so her quick escalation to violence must have been weighing on her; especially since it turned out he wasn't a monster.
Though, he was still curious why she had been so fast on the draw. He would have to ask her later, assuming his 'apology' worked.
He cleared his throat to get her attention, and let a small smile spread on his face when she looked back up at him. "But that's okay. Your actions were completely justified, and I don't hold it against you, honest."
He placed a hoof on his chest, just under the tiny silver ring holding his cloak together. He was doing his best to sound genuine, and it seemed to be working somewhat. Zecora's features were beginning to soften, and she was starting to lose some of her air of suspicion.
"As I understand, the Everfree can be quite the dangerous place." Oh, how he understood that. He had probably spent more time here than she had. "Of course you would be on edge, living out here; but I can assure you that I mean you no ill-will, despite what you may feel about me."
"I'm not sure how that mare I overheard knew where you were, but I promise I won't spread your location around if you don't want to be found." He was pretty sure it was working. His soft tone and non-threatening posture had been carefully cultivated through years of acting like a victim for Applejack's grandmother. Whenever he and Applejack had found themselves in trouble as foals, he had usually been able to shift most of the blame to her.
Not the most noble thing to do, but it wasn't as if he was trying.
"As you can see from my cutie mark," He turned his body and lifted his cloak as he spoke, so that Zecora could see his lower body. "I'm studying archeology. I sought you out so I could maybe hear about the burial habits of zebras, that's all. There was no malice intended, and If you don't want to talk to me, I can go home and leave you in peace."
He let his cloak fall, and turned to face Zecora again. Her face had taken on a contemplative tone, and she seemed to be mulling something over. He was content to let her sit in silence until she had an answer. Just as long as his semi-lie went over well.
He actually did think it would be kind of interesting to hear how zebras buried and honored their dead.
Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, and she let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, friend. My morals seem to have taken a bend."
Her eyes turned to his. They were almost completely devoid of the previous guarded suspicion, though not entirely. That was fair, he supposed. It would have been absolutely unreasonable to expect her to get over all her grievances with one apology.
Her voice took on a warmer tone, and she even smiled slightly as she spoke. "I, too would like to make another attempt at amends. A deeper apology, I doubt I could extend."
"My actions were in error, and I likely caused you no small amount of terror." Her voice dipped to a regretful tone as she spoke, and her ears pressed against her head.
"While your aura may be frightening, I think I'm coming to an enlightening."
He wasn't sure if that rhyme really worked too well, but he wasn't about to correct her; especially since she seemed to be getting to the point of whatever she was trying to say.
"I would enjoy it greatly if we could talk over some tea, for I have been quite alone lately with the company of just me and we."
Tea? He felt a frown tugging at his face, but he suppressed it. He really didn't like tea, no matter how many times he tried it. He almost felt compelled to refuse, or at least ask for something different, but he knew he couldn't.
Instead, he let a larger smile form on his face. "Tea would be lovely."
Zecora dipped her head in acknowledgement, and stared at him expectantly. What was she waiting for?
He felt his confusion rising as the zebra continued to stare at him. Had she said something without him noticing? had he said something? Why was she just standing around staring at him? Wasn't she going to go make tea? Why were they still just standing there?!
Oh, wait. He was still standing in front of her door.
He laughed nervously as he took a step forward. Zecora watched him with a raised eyebrow as he walked past her, before she shook her head and walked forward.
He let his rictus grin fade away as he stared at Zecora from behind. He narrowed his eyes as she opened her door and walked inside, away from his line of sight.
This had gone so much worse than how he had imagined it. Not only was the zebra practically eliminated as a potential friend, she was probably closer to an enemy.
His shoulders sagged momentarily as the thought dominated his mind. He had been looking forward to this so much, and now it was pretty much ruined. There was no conceivable way they would be able to establish any sort of trust with so much negativity in the air. Zecora could barely even stand to be near him.
Why was she so wary of him? What had he done to destroy their relationship before they even met?
Why was he standing around here when he could be asking these questions?
He took a deep breath, and straightened his back. He would get whatever answers Zecora had to give, and then he would leave.
He would leave, and go back to his life. With his one friend.
It served him right for getting his hopes up.
Author's Note
Well, here it is!
Sorry this one took so long, I was having some major trouble with it. Not only is this the longest chapter of the story so far, it was just plain difficult for me.
Zecora isn't an easy character to write, and I think my inexperience really shows here. I don't think I did a good job with her at all, or anything else in this chapter for that matter.
It just could've been so much more in so many places, but I just couldn't do any of the things in my head justice.
I cut out entire sections of the chapter as I went, because it was all just so... uninspired.
Not one of my better works.
I'm actually starting to think that I peaked with chapter sixteen. Hopefully, one of the chapters coming up might be able to rival it, but I won't know until I actually write it.
In better news, the next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long as this one. I'm pretty sure it's going to be much shorter for one, and probably way easier to write. I'm not going to spoil anything specific, but It's going to be the start of something big.
god, i'm just so done with this chapter. I'm posting it as-is, despite the many flaws. I'm sorry i'm such a bad writer.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Celestial Year 999 AB
One week before The Summer Sun Celebration
Light Flow's head hurt.
It was a throbbing, banging pain; and it spread through his entire body in quick bursts. It felt like his body was pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as if something was trying to push its way out of him.
Oh no, now he could hear the banging. Applejack had been right, being alone all the time had made him go insane. If he was hearing pain, then surely something ridiculous like smelling colors was next. Why? Dear goddess above, why? Why hadn't he listened to her nagging more?
Wait, was the banging coming from his door?
He groaned in pain, and sat up in his desk chair. His bones creaked loudly, and his jaw popped as he yawned exaggeratively. He had fallen asleep reading again, and even worse: he had been drooling. He was lucky he hadn't been perusing something important, just a light novel that he hadn't even been liking. Some fruity thing about romance that had completely failed to capture his interest at all.
Last time he would take Big Mac's advice for reading material.
He stared forlornly through bleary eyes at the messy page. It might've been his still-blurry vision, but he was pretty sure his drool had rendered the words on it nearly unintelligible. He bit his cheek, and cursed himself for being so inattentive. He might not have cared about the book, but Big Macintosh probably did.
He might not have cared much about the pony himself either, but Applejack did. He would have to find another copy to replace the ruined one.
He briefly screwed his eyes shut as the banging made itself known again. He turned his head to stare at his closed door, and glared at it.
Who would dare to disturb him? Literally, who would dare? Nopony ever came out to his Everfree-adjacent cabin. He didn't even get his mail delivered here, he had to go into town to pick it up.
Not that he ever got anything important. Mostly bills and advertisements for beauty products he only slightly cared about.
Bills.
He sagged over his desk, and let out a long sigh.
He had turned eighteen around two months ago, and that meant he was legally an adult. Which meant that he no longer received aid from the government.
Which meant he would have to get a job.
It was something he had been aware of for a long time, but he had always put off making a plan for the eventuality. Just another thing to think of 'tomorrow'.
But tomorrows kept coming, and he kept putting it off. Now, he was in trouble, at at least he would be when his savings ran out.
He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair and stared up at the ceiling.
He wished staring up at the plain wooden surface would have given him some sort of miraculous epiphany, but no such luck. He was still just a clueless, penniless, jobless unicorn with a bad headache.
And the constant banging wasn't helping...
He grit his teeth, and glared at his door again. "Would you cut it out?! I'm coming, okay?!"
The sound of his own voice may have sent painful tremors though his brain, but it seemed to at least calm down whoever was on the other side of the door. The banging subsided, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.
Now if only he could make his other problems go away by shouting at them...
He placed his hooves on the edge of his overcrowded desk and pushed himself away. His chair scraped agonizingly against the floor, and he took a moment to cradle his head in his hooves.
He breathed deeply and erratically as he waited for his vision to un-fuzz. Why did everything hurt so much? His headaches were never usually this bad, though they had been growing in frequency lately.
Something he should probably see a doctor about. Maybe tomorrow.
For now, he would just bear the pain until he could splash some water in his face. But that could wait until after he had answered his rude guest.
He rolled out of the chair and onto his hooves, biting his lip as his head filled with fire.
"Yeah, yeah. I get it, pain. Something's wrong. I got the message, so go away..." He whispered to himself as his head pounded. Unfortunately, his head didn't quite get the memo, and continued to implode.
He grumbled obscenities under his breath as he stumbled blindly to the door. Everything was blurring together and he was having a difficult time telling exactly how far away his destination was. His sleep-induced haze and pain-induced daze were an incredibly disorienting combo, which resulted in him walking directly into the wall just adjacent to the door.
The pain flared up in response to the unintended knock, and he repeatedly stomped his hoof onto the ground as he made several strangled noises. He sucked in hot breaths through his teeth as he stared at the floor for a moment, before he shook his head violently. The physical pain seemed to have cleared up his vision a bit, so at least he had the pleasure of staring at a mostly-clear brown floor.
He craned his head up, staring with hooded eyes at the wall that was decidedly not a door in thinly-veiled rage. He took two steps to the left, and reached a hoof up to the handle that was now in front of him. Magic would probably knock him unconscious at the moment, so he would have to open the door the non-unicorn way.
He was going to have some very choice words for his unknowing tormentor. It was barely even registering that it wasn't really their fault, he just knew that somepony had to pay.
He swung the door open, fully prepared to unleash the depths of his raging fury on whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing on the other side.
But there was no one there.
His incredulous gaze flicked from side to side, and he even took a step out onto the grass to see the skies above his cabin, in case it had been Rainbow Dash with another of her ridiculous pranks. But wherever he looked, there was absolutely nopony in sight.
He did notice the sun relatively low in the sky, which probably ruled out a prank. The problematic pegasus never got out of bed this early. On that matter, he had no idea why such a talented pegasus like Rainbow Dash would blatantly waste her skills by sleeping until noon and underachieving at her job.
It was baffling, really. It hadn't taken her very long to be appointed captain of the local weather team, even with her lackluster work ethic; so her superiors clearly recognized her talent the same way he had, though they probably still didn't fully grasp the tragedy of the situation. She absolutely deserved the promotion, but even still..
It was just so beneath her. It was like appointing the strongest pony in the world as a mover. They could still do the job effectively, but they could also be so much more .
No matter how many times he had brought it up to her, she adamantly refused to listen. She didn't care about the historical significance of her achievements, and there wasn't much more interest in their combat usage either. She could have been a celebrated general or something, but she just didn't care.
She could do so many great things, even if she didn't care about warfare; but she was wasting all of her potential. Heck, even her low-bar dream of performance would be better than what she was doing now, but she was just sitting around doing nothing in this no-name town. It just made him so angry.
He took in deep breaths as he stared at the empty dawn sky. The collage of fluffy pink, cool blue, and rising orange was helping clear his mind; and he took the opportunity to reevaluate his thoughts. Why on Equus was he standing outside his cabin with a splitting headache thinking about Rainbow Dash of all ponies?
This wasn't the first time his thoughts had become focused on the prismatic pony, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He didn't know why he had such a tendency to get so stressed out about other ponies' lives, but he just did .
One of his worst traits, by far.
He shook his head and turned around. He took a step into his cabin, and moved to close the door behind him, intent on putting the causeless banging out of his head. But as he reached for the handle, something strange caught his eye. Something that hadn't been there a second ago.
Something that made his eyes widen, and his heart accelerate to dangerous speeds.
There was a box sitting in front of his open door.
A plain, medium size, cardboard box.
With his name on it.
His hoof fell away from the handle as he openly gaped at the anomalous box. The pain suffusing his body was immediately pushed aside as his head went into overdrive in an attempt to comprehend this newest development.
A box.
A box that was exactly the same size as the one hidden in his basement. The same size, the same material, he could even spot the same messy scrawl of his name on the top.
For all intents and purposes, It looked to be the exact same box.
His eyes traced over every detail he could find. He desperately searched for any imperfection, any tell at all that would reveal this as some sort of prank. Some sort of trap or trick or anything that would say this wasn't really happening.
Anything at all. Anything that would lower his hopes.
There wasn't a top. There wasn't anything on the box at all besides his name. It was made of cardboard. That was it.
Exactly like the first one.
He felt his throat close up as the metaphorical floodgates opened. So many thoughts and feelings and urges ran through his mind, and he almost felt overwhelmed at the enormity of the moment.
He felt his jaw quiver slightly, and he quickly tried to suppress the growing wellspring of emotion that was bubbling in his chest. If anypony miraculously walked by and saw him crying at the sight of a package, they would probably call the police on him.
But it was so hard to not be emotional! He had waited so long for this. So many hours spent rereading the same two books over and over again. So many repeated sentences, gone over again and again ad nauseam until he could recall large swathes of the text by memory.
So many nights spent wishing for more.
He tentatively brought a hoof forward, before he was struck by a very sudden fear. His blood chilled and his hoof froze in place. He stayed like that for a moment, completely stationary, as terrifying thoughts swirled through his head.
What if the box wasn't really there? What if it went away when he moved? What if he was just hallucinating again? This wasn't the first time he had seen things that weren't there, and he was certain he would have many more moments like that in his life.
What if this was another of them?
He slowly returned his hoof to his side, and continued staring wide-eyed at the box. If it was going to disappear, then he wanted to take in the moment as much as he could.
He wanted to remember everything possible about the box. He wanted to be able to paint the damn thing from memory. He had never painted before, and he had absolutely no interest in the activity at all, but it was more about the hyperbole than the actual meaning.
Unfortunately, there wasn't very much to take in about such a plain box. He could watch the shadows dissipate as the sun moved across the sky, and connect the various shapes they made as they blended into the messy scrawl of his name.
He could note the subtle bending of the relatively long grass due to the way the box was placed, or he could try to calculate the exact length from the box to his front door based on the approximate size and placement of the box. Neither of those things were very interesting though.
None of it was very interesting. As wonderful as the sight was, there wasn't a whole lot to take in about such an inconspicuous box.
He let a deep breath out through his nose as his expression fell. Was he really thinking about doing random math just to prolong the inevitable? He knew he had problems with facing his problems, but this was just getting ridiculous.
He knew the box wasn't really there. Why was he so intent on playing out ridiculous fantasies about silly things that were bound to never happen? He had made his peace on the matter long ago, and he was resigned to the knowledge that there would never be a second box.
He would never know where the first one came from, and he would never learn anything real about Necromancy. It was time to stop pretending.
His shoulders sagged as his eyes grew dull. It was time to dispel his mania, and get back to the real world.
He swung his hoof forward, and haphazardly brought it down in front of him; sure in his belief that the box would instantly disappear, like stepping in a puddle and watching the reflection distort.
He sighed heavily as the box stubbornly stayed where it was. He was going to have to really consider that doctor's appointment. If his hallucinations were getting this bad, it was clear he needed help.
He slowly trudged towards the illusory box. If his head wasn't going to settle for making things simple, he would just have to touch the space where the box appeared to be. If he could still see it even when his hoof was buried halfway into it, he would have to bump that doctor's visit up a couple leagues of priority.
Honestly, it wasn't a surprise that he was going insane. There was a definite history there, especially considering the increasing variety of mental breakdowns he had suffered in the last year or so.
It wasn't anything too concerning though. Just seeing things where they weren't, hearing voices when he was alone, having nightmares of dark demons in silver armor, et cetera. It was all essentially harmless stuff. Nothing he had been explicitly bothered about before, but maybe it was time to start worrying.
He didn't really know any psychiatrists to go to though, maybe Applejack could recommend a-
His hoof bumped against something.
His weary sigh caught in his throat, and he could swear his heart stopped. He stared open-mouthed at the thing that had impeded his progress, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his eyes of the abnormality in his view. His head rocked imperceptibly from side to side automatically, and vague mutters of disbelief came to his lips unbidden.
His hoof was touching the box. The box that shouldn't-couldn't have been real.
His hoof was touching it.
His mouth closed, and his tongue drifted out between his teeth. He bit down as hard as he dared, and his head shook slightly from the pressure.
It was still there.
He watched in abject horror as his hoof came up to rest against the top of the box, and his breath hitched as the object proved solid. He pushed down slightly, and felt a small amount of give to the material.
It was real.
A wordless cry made its way out of his mouth as his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed over the box, feeling the somewhat course surface come into wonderful contact with his face.
He rubbed the side of his face against the cardboard, and his hooves came around to connect behind the box. He hugged the unfeeling container to himself tightly, as his eyes grew hot and his throat closed up.
He wasn't insane. He might've been hunched over crying while hugging a box, but he wasn't insane! It was really there!
His shoulders shook as he sobbed silently. He didn't care who saw him at this point, they could all go jump in a hole with their definitions of normality. Right now, this box was his entire world, and he never wanted to let go of it.
As Light Flow had a very emotional moment with a box, somepony else was having a strange moment of their own.
About thirty yards from the front of Light's home, there stood a tree. This tree looked to all the world like it was completely normal. Any creature from any place in the world could walk right up to it and comment on it being the most plain-looking and least suspicious tree they had ever seen.
And they would be completely right.
What was less normal was the cream-colored mare perched on a high branch with a pair of binoculars.
Bon-Bon lowered her government-issued binoculars in confusion, before raising them back to her face. She wasn't really sure what she was looking at, but she had somewhat of an inkling.
Sort of. What was he doing ?
She had always been pretty lukewarm on this assignment for many reasons. She had a good thing going in Canterlot, and moving to a different place for a long-term job was something she was less than happy about. And it had only gotten worse when Her Highness had told her where she was being sent.
Coming back to her hometown after being away for eight years wasn't something she had been especially looking forward to, and she had argued for a different posting many times. But Her Highness had been very firm, and Bon-Bon couldn't really refuse a direct order.
In the end, she had reluctantly packed up and moved to Ponyville, and she had never been so happy in her entire life.
Though, spending her time stalking a weirdo kid was pretty exhausting, no matter how dangerous he may have been.
Light had done a lot of strange things in her time as his 'guardian', but this was one of the strangest. She didn't know what was in the box she had been told to deliver, and she got the vague feeling that Her Highness didn't really know either. The only thing she knew was that it was extremely important that he received it at this very moment.
She grimaced as she watched through her binoculars. Was kissing the thing really necessary?
Lyra was sure to get a kick out of this.
Author's Note
QUICK IMPORTANT THING
Okay so I've been informed that something stupid I did might've screwed up tracking? If you didn't get a notification about this chapter, go ahead and re-add the story to your tracking. That will probably fix it.
ACTUAL AN BELOW
A new box?! Ooooh, wonder what could be inside?
Spoiler alert it's probably a book.
Anyway, this chapter was super fun to write! Which is why it's coming out so much sooner than the last one, other than being way shorter.
I also feel way better about this chapter than the last one. I think if a chapter goes on too long, it just gradually gets worse as I spread my writing out over greater periods of time. Chapters that are shorter and more centralized around a fixed plot point are probably way easier to write.
I say that with full knowledge that it's entirely possible I'll disregard my own advice and accidentally write something super long again. Oh well, it's not like we didn't already know I'm a dummy!
Oh yeah, I forgot to add: the chapter title isn't a mistake.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Chapter 24 - The Reluctance
Light Flow felt emotionally shot.
Really, truly, just completely drained.
It felt like somepony had taken his mind, thrown it into a blender, then set the blender on fire.
An incomprehensible slurry of lingering panic, deep clawing fear, subtle sadness, and likely misplaced hope. Pulped and mashed together until he couldn't quite recognize what he was meant to be feeling at the moment.
Oh, and it was also on fire. That was his headache.
He sniffed loudly as he stared at the box sitting on his recently cleared desk. He had stopped crying, eventually; though it had taken longer than he was willing to admit.
His emotional breakdown had been a decent cleanse for his mind, and he was having an easier time thinking straight. And now that his head was a bit clearer, it was time to see what was inside the thing that had already caused him so much grief.
He was just having a little trouble working up to it.
He was pretty sure it had been an hour or two since he had first thrown everything off his desk to make room for the container. The light shining through the windows had become much brighter, so it could have been as late as noon for all he knew.
His eyes flicked down to the shattered remains of a broken bowl on the floor next to his desk. Maybe he could have been a bit less forceful with making room.
He sighed, and turned away from the box to find wherever he had put his broom. There was no point in leaving the hazard around for him to step on later, especially if he was in one of his 'trances': as Applejack so kindly called them
He had never really seen what the big deal was. He was focused, so what? It was just so much easier to think if he just pretended there was literally nothing around him.
Absolutely unsafe, but extremely effective.
He opened the door to his bedroom, and peeked inside. His black bed and the small brown dresser next to it dominated a large swath of the room, leaving little room for anything else; though he honestly preferred it that way. His home may have been small, but nopony could deny the coziness factor.
He didn't think he had left the broom in here, but he had found weirder things in weirder places.
His eyes drifted lazily across the small room, before landing on the sought-after cleaning utensil in the adjacent corner. Apparently, he had left in here, which was odd considering he couldn't ever remember sweeping his bedroom.
He lit his horn and levitated the dusty thing towards him, giving a slight wince as his head throbbed slightly in response.
He had taken a shower after bringing the box in, which had helped his headache immensely; but it seemed as if his malady was not so keen on letting him off easy. An unfortunate recurring theme in his life recently.
He stepped back from the door and levitated the broom out after him, ducking his head as the object flew over him. He turned to the mess on the floor and set about the task of sluggishly sweeping the shards of glass off the floor.
He wasn't in any hurry, really. It wasn't as if he was entirely looking forward to what he would have to do once he ran out of nonsensical things to busy himself with.
He lowered his broom to the floor slowly, and dragged it across the area with the most visible shards. What had he been thinking about earlier? Applejack? That was usually the case at any normal time, so it was probably correct.
Applejack's nagging, that's what it was.
He sighed as the glass began to form a pile. He didn't really blame Applejack for her worries, he knew it was just her way of showing care. Her honesty was refreshing, even if it was mostly focused on lecturing.
Her loud country accent ringing in his ears was a common sensation, and he could almost pretend he was crazy enough to hear her yelling at him right then.
'Light Flow, y'all need to get 'yer act together. What'cha think y'all're gonna do with 'yer life if all 'ya do is sit inside all day?! '
Maybe a bit heavy on the country, and a bit too mother-ish, but that was generally correct. She had been concerned with his future living status, even though he had assured her he would find a job. She had even gone as far as offering him a part-time job on the farm.
As sweet as that was, he couldn't think of much he would hate more.
He turned to the large hearth on the opposite wall. He had mixed feelings about the large overblown fireplace. He hadn't ever used it, not even when the weather was especially cold. Its only real purpose was fitting the cabin in the woods aesthetic.
He wrapped his magic around the small bin sitting on one of the elevated stone panels, and brought it to him. He couldn't remember why he had left it there, but there was probably a reason. Maybe.
He lowered it to the ground, and swept the large pieces of the bowl into it. Sweeping glass into a trash bin was more than a little difficult, but he would have to deal with these kinds of unusual hardships until he remembered to buy a dustpan.
He turned the bin right side up and set it on the other side of his desk. He grimaced as he looked down at the still-visible tiny pieces of glass left on the floor. Of course he couldn't clean the entire mess with a broom and a bin, what was he thinking?
His face grew neutral as he surreptitiously flicked his eyes to the corner of his vision. He knew he was alone, but it was the kind of reflex that grew over a life rife with paranoia.
He lowered his broom to the floor, and swept the remaining mess towards the wall. He pushed it as close to the vertical surface as he could, before leaning the tool against the adjacent wall just next to the bathroom door.
He nodded slightly as he looked over his handiwork. It wasn't the safest course of action, or even the smartest; but at least the glass was out of the way, and barely visible besides.
Well, he was done cleaning, however shoddily he may have done it. Was there anything else to do?
He cast his gaze across the room. The hearth was a little dirty, but that didn't really matter. He never used it, so why would he take the time to clean it?
His eyes found themselves focused on the small 'kitchen' in the corner. A small fridge, an oven, one countertop, and a tiny standing cabinet he had bought. Not grand or exciting, but it wasn't as if he ever cooked.
And he didn't really feel like starting.
There was nothing to do. He had showered, taken a walk, cleaned, even contemplated going to see Applejack. There was nothing left to do to put off the inevitable.
The box was still on his desk, right where he had left it. He didn't quite gulp exaggeratedly, but he could feel a little sweat run down the back of his neck. He didn't really know why he was so scared. It was just a box, after all.
Just an average ordinary cardboard box sealed with dangerous magic containing illegal material sent by an unknown figure of great power.
Nothing he hadn't already known and come to grips with, so what was with the trepidation?
He didn't know, but he could feel his unease weigh heavily in his chest. Like a chain constantly tugging at his soul, trying desperately to get him to heel.
And he was the one doing the tugging.
He licked his lips as he stared at the box. He didn't want to stand around staring at it for half an hour again, so he quickly flicked his eyes down to the hem of his cloak. One little skull of many stared back at him, and he felt his resolve weakening.
Couldn't he find something else to do? Wasn't there anything?
Did he have to take this step right now?
The red glow of his horn came to life, and he could feel the weight in the box as it ascended. He watched with cautious eyes as his future approached him, slowly yet surely.
He flinched back and closed his eyes as the box came to a stop in front of him.
No. He couldn't do it here.
His eyes fluttered open, and they focused themselves on his desk once more. He approached his solitary workspace with a grim expression etched onto his face.
He leaned down to see the bottom of the surface a little better. It had taken him a little while to set this up, and as unnecessary as it was, he couldn't deny how cool it made him feel.
A subtle glow pushed against the underside of his desk, and he could feel a slight pressure. He pushed harder, and a small, evenly cut panel fell out.
Along with a key.
Light Flow's cellar was, in a word, dark.
Which was pretty much par for the course for a cellar. So basically, his cellar was completely average.
The entrance to the aforementioned dark basement was nestled into the outside corner between his bedroom and the main room, disguised rather cleverly as a completely normal cellar door.
Which was because it was a completely normal cellar door. Instead of a long fall into a secret lair or something grandiose, it just opened into a small set of stairs.
Though there was one factor rendering his cellar a rather suitable hiding place, even if it was just a small room under his house. One little thing that made it particularly difficult for anypony to even know it was there.
The Everfree Forest.
His bedroom was entirely within the bounds of the Everfree, and the woods stretched out just enough envelop a small bit of the sides of his house too; which meant the cellar entrance was safely ensconced within the most feared woods in Equestria.
If anypony wanted to get into his cellar, they would first have to know it was there, which was a difficult feat in itself. He had only gone around the sides of his house twice, and that was to move furniture. It was technically possible that somepony had seen that , but highly unlikely.
Usually, whenever he needed to get into his cellar, he climbed out of his bedroom window. Was he paranoid? Absolutely.
But at least his paranoia meant that only he, and whoever had the floor plan of his home knew the cellar even existed.
Even if somepony managed to find out he had a cellar, they would have to work up the courage to walk into the Everfree. They would only have to go in about ten or so hoof-lengths, but it was the Everfree all the same.
And the Everfree didn't 'look' kindly upon anypony, no matter where they were.
The Everfree sort of liked him, but there had been times the forest had played tricks on him too. He had once walked out into the woods from the back of his house for about three minutes, and then got lost for three hours.
During his period of geographical confusion in the abnormal forest, he had almost walked into two different patches of poison joke, gone in repeated circles no less than five times, and even nearly fallen into a river.
He emerged from the forest less than forty hoof-lengths away from his home, bedraggled and confused. Not one of his best days, for sure.
Other than the occasional 'detour', the Everfree was fairly kind to him. He was fairly certain his cellar would be safe from intruders as long as the Everfree continued to hold him in strangely high regard.
Even if all of the other conditions were neutralized, he had a third defense. It may not have been as grand or as sneaky as the other two, but it was probably just as effective.
He locked the cellar door. And he kept the only key in a secret compartment in the bottom of his desk.
The same key he was holding in his magic.
The same key to the same cellar he was standing in front of.
It hadn't been as late in the day as he'd thought, at least that's what he guessed by the sun's position. The sun wasn't quite overhead yet, which meant it was probably around eleven.
Which meant the back of his house was wreathed in shadow.
He pursed his lips as he stared down at his darkened cellar door. The heavy chain bound with a padlock was more than a little intimidating at the moment, but he was the one who put it in place.
He had always been a fan of security, in any form. Any sort of personal protection for him or his belongings was an intoxicating thought, and he often wished his house was even further into the Everfree. Nopony would ever think about disturbing him then.
Of course, that would bring its own problems. The Everfree was certainly too dangerous for anypony to live in, and the nature of the directionless forest would make it extremely hard to keep track of any sort of structure.
As far as he knew, nopony in history had ever successfully lived in the woods for more than a week or so; at least, not without making it their permanent residence. The forest may have 'liked' him, but he doubted it would be making any exceptions.
Now that he thought about it, was that even correct to say? It was a fairly common habit to refer to the Everfree as a living being, even beyond the way all forests are living. It was just too... alive to treat it the way ponies treated places like the Whitetail Woods.
But to what degree was it 'alive'? Was it conscious? Did it have morals, or feelings? Independent thought?
He was getting off track again, he needed to hurry up and stop wasting time. This wasn't the first time he had questioned something about the Everfree, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Like all the other times, it was best to just drop the questions and move onto more productive things.
The box and the key were still held behind him in a faint red glow, casting ominous shadows onto the surfaces in front of him.
His face turned down at the sight of his own outline. He still remembered his old hallucinations, and as terrible as they were, he had come to terms with his brief bout of insanity. No, his current souring mood was due to more recent events.
His dreams had been plagued by a shadowy figure for some time now, on and off for months. He had been dismissive of the events at first, but he kept waking up with that figure burned into his mind. It wasn't every night, but it was often enough to be deeply unsettling.
He could never exactly remember the contents of the dream, but they probably weren't happy. Vague recollections of whispers and screams made their way to his mind once in a while, but he couldn't quite grasp any greater meaning.
The weirdest thing about the dreams wasn't actually about the dreams, though. Sometimes, though not all the time, he would find himself waking up in strange places after having one of those dreams. On the floor, in the bathroom, in the cellar, even one terrifying time he had woken up in the Everfree.
He wasn't sure if he was just sleepwalking or if there was some other agenda behind his nightly walks, but his impromptu trips only ever happened when he had one of those dreams.
It was more than a little suspicious.
He had considered seeing a doctor, but.. well...
He would do it 'tomorrow'.
He turned his head, and watched his shadow turn with him, before shaking his head roughly. He was being ridiculous. His shadow wasn't going to step out of the wall, or rear up and stab him. He was standing around in front of his cellar door for no reason, all because he was too chicken to open a box .
What was his problem, anyway? He had been putting it off for so long, and for what? Because he was too scared to face his future? Because he was afraid of changing his life?
Well not anymore. He was opening this damn thing right now !
.....
Well, not right now , he still had to open the cellar.
With his build-up effectively shattered by an obstacle of his own making, his tense posture abated slightly. He levitated the key around to the lock, and slipped it in.
He listened for the satisfying unlocking noise, before returning the key to its position behind him. The chain and padlock similarly slipped out of their protective hold on the handles, and found themselves next to his other held items.
There were many reasons he was glad to be a unicorn, and the ability to easily hold things was not the least of them. He would never say it out loud, but he kind of felt bad for the other races. He knew Applejack made do, but he also knew her life would be so much easier if she had the ability to do what he could.
Of course he would never tell her that. He was quite fond of his teeth where they were.
He set the padlock and chain down next to the wall, before grabbing a handle in his magic. He grit his teeth as he strained to lift the relatively heavy door. This was always the worst part.
He grunted and heaved, but the door remained steadfastly jammed.
His shoulders slumped as his concentration broke, and he heard the box fall onto the grass behind him. That was fine though, he was going to put it down anyway. It was far easier to focus if his magic was concentrated on one task.
He took a deep breath, and lit his horn again. As his telekinetic grip materialized around the handle once more, his mind inevitably found itself wandering to magic itself. He had recently done some deeper research on magic and its theory, and it was quite enlightening.
Magic was fairly simple in concept. It was just about knowing which magical pathways to direct your magic down, and having the strength to keep it flowing. Obviously, most kinds of magic required dozens, if not hundreds, if not thousands of connections to form; so it was unfortunately a bit harder than books made it out to be.
It became easier with practice, though some unicorns were more naturally gifted in the art than some. Those rare unicorns lucky enough to be born with a special talent in magic had a variety of incredible advantages, not the least of which being a larger fount.
He supposed he technically had a talent in magic, though the only advantage he seemed to have was the ability to see souls. His fount had always been decently large, though not nearly as huge as figures of legend like Starswirl the Bearded.
Somewhere on the average side, actually.
It wasn't impossible for regular unicorns to catch up, though. It was just like exercise. The more magic a unicorn used, the bigger their fount would get.
Magic was intrinsically tied to a pony's fount. That special wellspring of mana that allowed ponykind to shape the world around them. Everypony had one, though unicorns were the only ones known to actually draw from it. He was decently sure pegasi could actively draw too, but it was only an educated guess based on what they did with the weather.
He wasn't sure why he was doing an expansive run-down in his head, but it was a decent focus while he tried to wrench the obviously stuck door open.
A spell was formed when a unicorn drew from their fount with their horn as a focus, and directed the magic through their magical pathways. He wasn't well-versed in arcane physiology, but he at least knew that there were innumerable magical pathways contained in one pony's body. That meant there were many different kinds of spells, and very little room for error in ill-advised spellcrafting.
Apparently, spell theory involved a lot of work in math, physics, and anatomy, which made a certain sense.
He wasn't an expert, or even a novice really, so he wasn't sure about the specifics of how spells were created. He could make a guess that each magical pathway did something different to the mana running through it, though he didn't want to make any assumptions.
Things got especially muddy when the other kinds of magic were factored in. He knew that magic could be infused into objects, and-
His train of thought derailed completely as one side of the door to the cellar suddenly broke open, flying out and banging into the ground. He stared wide-eyed at the open half of the door, before very carefully lifting the other side open.
He wasn't sure how long he had been tugging at the handle, or even how hard he had been tugging, though it was seemingly pretty hard. He just kind of fell into a daze as he idly pulled at the stuck latch.
It was the first time it had stuck like that, and he wasn't quite sure why. The wood might have warped or something, though that would be odd considering how old the house was already.
Whatever. Nothing in his life made much sense these days. Just another mystery he would probably solve at some point.
He turned his head to see where the package and the key had fallen on the ground, and gathered them up in his magic. He faced the open cellar door again, and took a step forward.
Or, at least, he tried to. His legs were having a hard time obeying him.
He sighed as he stood in place. He was nervous, scared even. He might have been able to put his fears down earlier, but they were still there. Quietly bubbling away in his soul.
He felt the anxiety in his throat, blocking his windpipe and filling his lungs with the thought of freedom. It would be so easy to put it off. There wouldn't be any harm in putting this off for just another day, would there?
Well, if he knew anything about literature, that kind of thought would be an obvious tell for some kind of impending disaster.
On that note, why would he get a box now of all times? The letter had said he would only receive them exactly when he needed them. That implied he would be in a situation where he would need more knowledge than he had now.
What was happening in the world? He didn't really keep up with current events, so he didn't have much of an idea. The Summer Sun Celebration was happening soon, and it was taking place in Ponyville for some strange reason. He normally didn't pay attention to ceremonies like that, especially not when they involved Her Royal Highness, but Applejack unfortunately kept him informed on the event.
She was apparently in charge of the catering for the event, which made sense. He didn't think about it very often, but Applejack was the heir to one of the most important families in Equestria. Her grandmother had basically founded Ponyville, after all, and Apple family apples were grown and shipped pretty much everywhere. They were the golden standard for produce, and near-everypony knew it.
It was a very large business, and his friend was set to inherit it all. Big Macintosh was the oldest, and he was supposed to have that role; but he could remember Applejack telling him something about an old story that ended with Big Mac taking a more passive role in life.
Something about a hospital.
Where had he been going with this? He really needed to do something about his attention span. Was he talking about The Summer Sun Celebration? That was probably the big danger that was coming up, right?
Her Royal Highness was going to be in town. Now that gave him some ideas about what could go wrong.
The Pure Goddess was famous for being absolutely intolerant of the dark arts. Apparently, the vehement hatred had its roots in The Banishing War, which probably meant that whatever monster had been banished was a practitioner.
Her punishments may not have been dealt in a very long time, but he had read a decent amount of history on the subject. He had found records of publicized special ceremonies meant to bolster the public's confidence and drain the enemies' morale.
A crowd would form, and take their seats in what he guessed was a magically protected outdoor auditorium. Having an audience was somewhat grim, though it was likely the highlight of their lives.
Any parties found guilty of the use of dark magic were trotted in a line onto a large platform emblazoned with a sun motif, obviously in tribute to Her Royal Highness.
The Princess Herself would be standing by, likely looking stone-faced with a tinge of disappointment.
The guilty would be given the comfort of a blindfold, though it was likely meant as an additional punishment. Something about not being worthy to look upon Her divine form. Somewhat ridiculous in his opinion, but times were different back then.
Her Royal Highness would deliver a short speech that was described as 'full of regret and sorrow', but he wasn't entirely sure he believed that. He had always interpreted that part as a creative liberty taken by a particularly patriotic writer.
After a lot more pomp and circumstance, the execution was carried out.
The history was a little sketchy there, as the process wasn't well documented. It was really only described as 'a total cleansing of their souls in holy fire'. It was painted as a good thing, but he couldn't imagine being immolated was a pleasant experience.
What a sight it must have been. The sinners who so cruelly turned their backs on the light, forced to embrace their judgement in the loving embrace of The Holy Princess of the Sun.
What a blessed and just end, the crowd would think. If only they could all be so lucky.
He shivered slightly despite the warmth in the air. The Princess Herself somehow discovering his greatest secret would absolutely constitute an emergency. Even if those kinds of ceremonies hadn't been conducted since what was effectively the dark ages, that might have just been because She practically smothered the art of dark magic altogether.
There was no telling what The Pure Goddess might do to a modern-day practitioner. But history gave him an idea.
If The Immortal Sun somehow caught wind that his special talent was in one of the dark magics....
There wasn't much he would be able to do to stop his new special talent in burning .
He pressed his tongue up against his teeth as he inhaled deeply. A very different kind of fear filled his veins now, washing away his previous reluctance in a burning river of flame. It was a fairly underhooved mental tactic against himself, but he was pretty sure it worked.
He raised a hoof, and put it down in front of him. He visibly relaxed as he sighed in relief.
Now he was terrified about having his flesh melt away in the face of an angry goddess, but at least he was confident enough to open a box.
"Hooray..." He mumbled to himself as he made his way into the cellar.
Author's Note
What? What's that? There's something at the door, hold on let me get it.
KNOCK KNOCK IT'S POORLY EXECUTED EXPOSITION.
So anyway, here's the next chapter! And boy, is it not what I wanted!
You know, I have a serious problem. I come up with a title, write 4000 words, then change the title because I never made it to the point of the chapter. It happens every single time.
So next chapter will be what last chapter was supposed to be. Are the dark gods forcing me to meander aimlessly around story elements happy?!
So yeah, this chapter is mostly an infodump. I didn't mean to make it that way, but it just sorta bled into that. Even worse, not only is it an infodump, it's a badly structured infodump.
I had a lot of things to say, but I feel like none of them transition into each other very well. I dunno, maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion because I wrote it, but it feels disconnected.
I decided to just toss in a lot of plot elements at once, and they all feel somewhat contrived when stacked up against each other. There was just too much of Light thinking, and not a lot of Light doing. That's pretty much what I want the story to be, but done in a more intelligent fashion.
It doesn't help that my writing schedule has been all over the place. I wrote this entire thing in two long sessions separated by a day or two, and I was sleep deprived both times.
Sometimes, chapters just don't come out right, and I feel like if I try to change too much, it'll get worse. So it's staying as the hot mess it is. I hope you enjoy all of the incredibly important plot elements I unceremoniously dropped into your lap.
Because I actually had so much fun writing it.
I should edit this more but i'm putting it out right now anyway look at me i have more power than i should
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow couldn't see.
The cellar was, as predicted, very dark. No big surprise there.
One door, no windows, no lights; it would honestly be more shocking if there was light down there.
From where he stood halfway down the steps, Light squinted as he peered into the enveloping blanket of void. There obviously wasn't much to see in its current state, though there wouldn't be anything particularly exciting to look at once it was lit up, either.
The faint wisps of daylight leaking in from the open cellar door were barely enough to illuminate the small stairway, casting short glowing beams that died on the surface of an object resting on the bottom step. A necessary tool that had been left to him with the house.
Kind of the mayor to do so, but it wasn't as if he couldn't have gone out to buy a lantern himself.
There were so many things about his house that just seemed loaded. The lantern for his cellar, the single towel left in his bathroom, even the complimentary appliances. The mayor had never mentioned any of it, but he always had a feeling that she was waiting for some kind of thanks.
Just a certain little tension between the two of them. A little nagging presence hanging in the background of every one of their conversations. An unspoken agreement that one of them owed the other an extreme debt.
He did his best to avoid the town hall.
He clicked his teeth together gently as he blinked at the abyssal space in front of him. Nothing was really happening as he stood there on his stairs, and it wasn't as if he was waiting for something; but he just had a vague sense that something could happen.
If he just kept staring into the dark.
....
No... He shouldn't.... He was just stalling again, that was it. Trying to put off the inevitable, like always.
He shook his head, and turned his eyes to the lantern on the bottom step. He took a small amount of focus away from holding the box and the key behind him, and extended that awareness to the lantern. A small red light flickered into life around the resting handle, and it ascended gently into the air.
He took hold of the knob and turned it slightly, watching as the wick inside raised a little. He knew having an oil-burning lamp was old-fashioned, but he didn't really care. This was the lantern that was left to him, so this was the lantern he was going to use. It was just that simple.
And maybe he just enjoyed the thought of it. It made him feel more refined, and authentic.
'Did you hear? That pony uses an oil-burning lantern! He must be so.... '
'So.... Uh..... '
Okay, maybe he didn't really know what purpose there was in being stuck in the past.
He let out a small sigh as his fantasy fell apart. If he ever found the time to go into town, he would grab an electric lantern. The extra lamp oil costs were an expense he should have cut out a long time ago anyway.
His hooded eyes searched the ground as he brooded on the future loss of his old world charm. He didn't know why he enjoyed that particular thought so much anyway. There had been a period in his life where he was very interested in history, but those times were long past now.
Memories of nights spent reconciling various historical inaccuracies in his own private journal flashed through his head, and he closed his eyes for a moment to indulge in the bittersweet taste of forgotten passions.
He had given brief thought to working as a scholar for a while, but it hadn't lasted. There were more important futures ahead of him. He had known even then, history just wasn't his special talent.
Necromancy was.
He took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. Reminiscing was fine, but he let himself slip into that particular daze far too often. He had no lack of focus, but the subject of his thoughts was something that constantly wavered.
Like now. He had completely sidetracked from his current goal of finding the matches. It really didn't need to take so long, because the matches should have been right where-
The matches weren't on the step with the lantern.
He slowly closed his eyes, and gently raised a hoof to his head. If it wouldn't subtract more precious time from his dwindling supply, he would have taken the opportunity to bash his head against the wall.
Also, it would have hurt.
The matches weren't on the step with the lantern like they should have been. There was only one place they could be if they weren't there, or with him; and since he obviously wasn't holding them, that left one option.
They were on the desk.
In the cellar.
On the opposite wall.
In the dark.
He groaned loudly as he dragged his hoof down, the sound reverberating and amplifying on the stone walls before clocking him in the face with greatly increased volume.
He was such an idiot. He must have forgotten to take the matches with the lantern the last time he was down here. He couldn't actually remember when he was down here last, but it didn't really matter. The problem was evident, and highly annoying.
Now he was going to have to grasp blindly around in the dark like a fool until he found his desk.
He grumbled out loud as he set the box and the key at the bottom of the stairs, before making his way down alongside them. It wasn't as if he was afraid of the dark, far from it. He just didn't enjoy the loss of one of his senses.
Nopony wanted to walk around blind, not even villains.
He regarded the complete void in front of him with disdain, before closing his eyes. He wasn't going to be able to see, so there was really no point in ogling thin air. Walking around with his eyes wide open would just make him feel even more like a blind pony.
He took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
There. He was officially in the darkness. There wasn't any reason for that to be as grand of an accomplishment as it felt like, but he had done it regardless. He had taken a step. Hooray. Maybe Mayor Mare would award him a medal.
His shoulders sagged as he sighed. The more time he spent around himself, the more problems became evident.
He made his way forward through the darkness as he counted his steps. The cellar wasn't huge, but it wasn't that small either, so the opposite wall was around fifteen hoof-lengths away from the entrance, which meant that the desk was thirteen or so hoof-lengths from the entrance, which meant-
He sucked in a pained breath as his hoof made swift contact with what felt like wood. He shook it slightly in the air as he ground his teeth together.
He had found the desk. That was the important part. There was no need to entertain thoughts of using the matches to set it on fire. That would be counterintuitive, and dumb.
But it would be so cathartic.
His face crinkled in aggravation as he discarded the thought. The barbaric thought of burning any of his furniture was both silly and surprising. His anger issues had mostly dissipated in the time since his formative years, but he had recently found himself enraged by the smallest things.
He had mostly kept it from interfering in his personal life, but he had once woken up amidst the carcass of a shredded book about astrology. He couldn't remember getting angry, or even passing out, but it was hard to deny the realities he sometimes found himself in.
The reasons to see a doctor kept piling up, as did his reluctance to go.
He put the thought aside for the moment as he set his hoof back on the floor. He opened his eyes, and tried to scan the darkness in front of him; hoping in vain to see the faintest visible outline of anything.
It was futile. The darkness was all-enveloping, and completely denied his attempts to pierce its veil. He huffed in irritation as his head lowered closer to what he hoped was the surface of his desk. It was hopeless, he couldn't see anything. He was just going to have to rely on a unicorn's natural light source.
His horn lit as he drew mana from his fount, pushing it though his natural focus in small amounts, before letting the mana diffuse harmlessly into the air in the form of tiny showering sparks.
It wasn't completely ineffective, though the puny amount of light did little more than act as an excellent contrast for the pervading emptiness in the room.
A small light, burning bright against a tremendous force of its antithesis. A dance as old as time, yet forever unchanged from its outcome.
Every light will one day burn out, but the shadows never die.
It's a good thing he was in front of a writing desk, that poem was especially good.
His head dipped closer to the desk as his eyes desperately searched through the pitch for the barest sight of his sought-after goal. If he could just catch the slightest glimpse, the merest taste of the small box, he would have all the light he needed.
His eyes strained though the tangible surface of the dark, before collapsing on the visage of a brightly branded container sitting on a wooden surface.
He felt his face rise in victory, before it stopped halfway.
It looked like the box was open, which was odd by itself. He always made sure to close things when he was done with them, otherwise it felt like leaving something done halfway. The very thought of that made his fur itch.
And it also looked like there was a match sitting on top of the box. It looked burnt at one end, like it was used.
Was that smoke coming off of it?
Light Flow...
His ears perked as something tickled the edge of his senses. Had he just heard something? From the far corner of the room?
.....
.....
No... No it was nothing...
He was just hearing things, that's all. He was just a little jumpy from his earlier thoughts about Her Royal Highness. That had to be it, because the alternative would be completely insane.
His body relaxed as his temporary fear abated. He was being silly. Nothing could have gotten in, the chain wasn't broken and the key wasn't missing. He was just making himself crazy, like usual. Half of his problems were probably just from stress, that's what a doctor would tell him.
All he needed to do was relax. Everything was fine, and so was he.
Light Flow...
His eyes widened as a faint voice tugged at the corner of his ear. It was hollow, and it echoed around the recesses of his mind; bouncing from corner to corner like hasty words spoken to an empty room.
Okay, so maybe he wasn't crazy, or maybe he was? It depended on whether he was actually hearing a voice. If he was, then he had to be hallucinating again, that was the only explanation. It was impossible for anything to have slipped into a locked room with one entrance, there was just no way.
If he wasn't, then he was crazy anyway because the wind was starting to sound like voices.
There wasn't anything in the room with him. He was just having another of his episodes, and it would stop eventually. If he just waited it out, the voice would go away, and he could get on with opening the box that should have been open three hours ago.
"Light Flow... Don't turn around..."
He swallowed heavily as his ear flicked repeatedly. The voice or whatever it was had sounded like it was coming from the corner of the room before, but now it sounded far closer. Like it was just a few hoof-lengths away.
He wasn't scared. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and he had learned a long time ago that his mind couldn't hurt him. Even if inky tentacles clawed their way from the shadows around him and tore him to pieces, he wouldn't feel anything.
The voice had told him not to turn around, and he was going to listen. He was fine. He was mentally stable, and he was fine. There was nothing in the room with him, and he was fine.
Fine. He was fine, everything was fine. The voice was fine, and it couldn't hurt him.
"Light Flow... The night is coming, Light Flow...."
It was in his ear. It sounded like something was whispering directly into his ear.
Was that breath? Was there something breathing on his ear?
Something was touching his shoulder. He could feel pressure on the upper part of his withers, as if there was a hoof laying on it.
His breath came quickly and unbidden, burning his mouth as it slid over his tongue. Hyperventilation, that was new. He shouldn't have been afraid, he shouldn't have been panicking. This wasn't real, it wasn't happening. It literally wasn't real.
His head felt like it was caving in, and the top of his vision distorted. It was becoming hard to stand, like his energy was dissipating. His legs felt weaker than they should've, and they began to shake from the weight of the hoof on his shoulder.
What was happening? Why was this happening, now of all times? This.. this hadn't happened since he was a child !
There was a pressure building in his chest, choking him from the inside. It felt oily.
He didn't want to die, not again.
"Light Flow... I'm c̷̖̕ȯ̸̞m̷̭̓̈́ī̴͇̆n̵̛̹g̶̮͒͑ ̴̱͍̉L̵̕͜I̸͇͛͜G̸̼̑ͅH̶̡̄T̵͈̊ ̵͚͙̓͊F̴̼̈͜L̵͖͆̿O̴͖̫̓W̴̝͑̕! "
The voice raised to a deafening volume as the words distorted in the air, jumbling together in a wet, grinding roar.
It hurt .... There was something in his...!
Light Flow's mouth gaped open in silent pain as he felt something tear its way through his throat, before the world quickly faded to black.
Author's Note
Oh no! I accidentally put off opening the box again! Will that darn thing ever get opened?
Anyway, this chapter's a bit of a shorter experience. I wrote it out in about four hours, specifically, the last four hours.
I'm not really sure what happened, I just got into a groove. I just sat down to write, and the words came to me. You could even say it was like magic.
I'm actually really happy with this chapter, even if it may be kinda rushed. I feel like I finally hit some of those highs I wanted to hit in my writing, though the ending could've been better.
I didn't want to extend this whole thing out so long, but I feel like It'll probably better to have this sequence of events out as their own contained chapter. I promise, next chapter will be what you've been waiting for.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow's head hurt.
It was a burning, pushing pain; and it filled his head with hot fire in great flowing streams. It felt like somepony had lit a bonfire in his skull, trying to smoke his brain from its hole.
Did that metaphor make sense? Probably not.
He groaned in pain, and sat up in his desk chair. His-
Wait a second... Hadn't he just been in this scenario?
He blinked his eyes groggily as he stared around at his dimly lit surroundings. He seemed to be in his cellar, though he couldn't remember ever making his way down. Had he been sleepwalking again?
He turned around in his chair to look around the room. Something felt strange , but he wasn't sure what it was.
All the normal things were there: the dark stone walls, the closed cellar door, the small freezer he had bought; everything was in its place, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
So why did he feel so.. displaced ?
The wooden chair creaked softly as he turned back around to stare blearily at the objects in front of him.
His old-fashioned lantern sat warmly on the desk in front of him, helpfully lighting his surroundings for him. The wick burned merrily as the small fire leapt and played in the air, casting dancing shadows on the darkened walls. A beautiful performance, and he bore sole witness.
He loved that lantern. He couldn't ever imagine buying one of those normal electric lanterns, what would be the point? He had a wonderful lantern that worked perfectly, and it wasn't going anywhere.
He had often wondered if he should upgrade it, but seeing it lit like this only strengthened his resolve to keep it. The old-timey charm was just too enticing.
He stuck his tongue out between his lips slightly, and let it sit there as he tried to assess his situation. There was something strange going on with his mind. It was as if there was some sort of fog obscuring his thoughts, preventing him from starting any sort of advanced...
Advanced...
Uh ... There had been an end to that sentence a second ago, hadn't there?
He blinked lethargically as he tried to reconcile his normal thought process with his new, less active one. What was the matter with him? It was like everything was moving in slow-motion or something.
The fire burning in the lantern reflected asymmetrically across his glassy eyes, and he closed his eyes momentarily to clear his vision of the flickering light.
Everything felt wrong. It was like his entire world had been shifted an inch to the left, and he was left half-sitting in air.
His focus gently crept to the other object on the old desk in front of him. It was a medium-sized, cardboard box. It was quite plain, and he couldn't see any distinguishing features on its surface other than a messy scrawl on the top.
An average, everyday box. Nothing special or noteworthy about it.
He squinted at the brown surface as an unfamiliar feeling shadowed itself over his emotions. It was cold, yet hot at the same time; and it made his throat crumple and bunch in displeasure. The contradictions were messy and unorganized in his brain, and they burned like acid as something else began to overtake him.
The box... Something about it tickled the back of his memory, but he couldn't quite...
......!
His eyes widened as his mind cleared. His headache vanished in an instant as the metaphorical fog lifted, and he gasped in surprise at the sudden clarity. It was almost as if he had been quickly and rudely dunked in freezing cold water, and the shock had both literally and figuratively woken him up.
The box! He had received another box in the mail from his mysterious benefactor! How had he forgotten?
He breathed deeply with a look of wonder on his face. He forgot things so often, but never something on this scale. Maybe this was the tipping point in his solo back and forth on whether he should see a doctor?
He slouched back in his chair as the obtrusive thought made its way forward.
Maybe tomorrow.
He kicked the unwelcome idea to the back of the line as he tried to recall what had led him to the cellar. He was obviously here to open the box, but what came in-between?
He had woken up in his desk chair, yes. He got mildly upset at ruining Big Mac's book, even though it was incredibly trashy. Seriously, he would never understand any form of romance, not even when it was in books.
Somepony was knocking at the door, he could remember now. His head had hurt so bad, he was ready to start tearing other ponies' heads off.
But... there hadn't been anypony at the door, had there?
His head was still so jumbled, even as his wits gathered themselves. Shattered recollections and vague flashes of potential events meshed in unseemly ways, forming incomplete pictures that just didn't look right.
He closed his eyes and brought a hoof to his head. Why was he remembering Rainbow Dash? Was she there?
Yes... Yes, it was Rainbow Dash, wasn't it? She had played a prank on him, as usual.
He sighed in irritation as the memories flowed cleanly through his head. That do-nothing pegasus with the incredible skills had knocked on the door and waited for him to come out. Then she dropped a flowerpot on his head like the public menace she was.
That's why he had taken a shower, everything was becoming so clear now.
But when he had come out of the shower, there was a box sitting in front of his still-open door. Right in the entranceway, like it had been there all along.
Wait... why had he left his door open?
He hemmed for a moment, rubbing his hoof on his head in careful circles as he tried to recall the day's events. Everything was always just on the tip of his tongue, right out of reach.
Why was his head so intent on playing keep-away with him? Didn't he know he had better things to be doing?
Was it... because of Applejack? There was something about Applejack, wasn't there? He was pretty sure he had spent some amount of time doing something related to Applejack.
She... she had come by to deliver some apples?
That sounded like something she would do. She was thoughtful like that, and she knew how he could forget to eat.
And while she was there, she... had accidentally broken a bowl? So she cleaned it up?
Yeah, that sounded right. She threw the debris out into the forest, but she left the door open.
That made sense.
The tension in his posture bled off as his head slotted itself back into place. It was all clear now. His memories were clear, and so was he.
He leaned his head back onto the uncomfortable wooden back of his desk chair, and he stared up at the stone ceiling above him. He was pretty sure it was directly underneath the wooden floors of his house, though he had no idea whether that was safe or not.
He studied many things, but architecture wasn't one of them. Maybe that could change? It was usually pretty fun to pick up new topics, though not always helpful.
He wasn't sure how his knowledge of herbology would ever be of any use, but strange things happen every day.
He blew a soft breath out of his nose as more memories took their place. Piecing themselves together perfectly as the entire picture formed. Quite satisfying, like a good puzzle.
After his visit with Applejack, he had taken the box down to the cellar. It was an ordinary trip, and he had made his way into the cellar with minimal difficulties.
The lantern and matches were right where he left them, and the cellar was soon lit perfectly.
He had taken a moment to stare aimlessly at the things in the room, before taking the box to his desk.
The key was....
Oh! The key was right there, next to the box. It was sitting there the whole time, how had he missed it?
He shook his head as he stared at the small, silver object. Applejack often told him he would forget his head if it wasn't attached to him, and he was beginning to think she was right.
Nothing wrong so far, but how had he fallen asleep?
He clicked his tongue as he stared vacantly at the wall. He supposed it wouldn't be the first time he had passed out without warning or recollection of the event.
Par for the course, it seemed.
He smiled slightly as his eyes came to rest on the box again. He leaned forward in his chair, and stared dumbly at the object. He was so excited to open it, no wonder he hadn't wasted much time talking to Applejack. She seemed a little hurt that he had shooed her away so fast, but that was okay. He could easily make it up to her later.
He chuckled softly as he reached a hoof out to the container. He took a moment to rub the side of the box fondly as he pondered the potential contents.
Was it another book on theory? That wouldn't be very exciting, but it would be immensely helpful. With enough information and time, he might be able to reverse-engineer the spells on his own. Now that would be special.
Of course, it would be the kind of achievement he could never tell anypony , but he would know in his heart that he had done something incredible.
His eyes grew unfocused as he lost himself in the possibilities.
Light Flow, the master of Necromancy. Legends say that he was so skilled in the art, he found a way to perform Necromantic spells without ever actually learning them.
Known as the 'Undying Scholar', his knowledge of death was so encompassing, he apparently found a way to kill the Immortal Princess of the Sun. The Holy Princess would never allow such knowledge, thus leading to an inevitable conflict between equals. The two enemies locked themselves in a stalemate, fighting for days on end, before eventually agreeing on an unsteady truce.
Light Flow would spare the Princess, she would do likewise, and they would never interfere in the other's affairs.
Their battle was legendary, and its conclusion even more so. None had ever come close to besting Sol Invictus, and none would ever reach Light Flow's achievement in merely checking her.
From then on, Light Flow was forever known by the title: The Shadow in the Daylight.
Okay, maybe that was shooting a little too high.
The daydream slowly bled away as his head switched tracks to more tangible futures.
As much as he would love being the pony who managed to reinvent Necromancy, he would love it even more if it was just a spellbook. He had been dying to actually perform some real magic, rather than just reading about the concept.
Not that he was bored with what he had, far from it. He revisited volumes one and two of Necromancy for Foals quite often, and they were always a delight to read.
But the information within had become stale, and he was eager for more. He just wanted to know everything about Necromancy. It might've been his cutie mark talking, but he honestly thought it was the coolest form of magic by far.
As far as he knew, no other school of magic did anything like what Necromancy did. Rewriting life itself, changing the variables of a pony's soul, and creating possibilities that nature herself had passed over?
Incredible. Simply incredible.
He sighed dreamily as he stared longingly at the box. Why was he still waiting? He was sitting around thinking about it, when he could be tucking into whatever tome was contained inside.
He must've been insane, because everything he did was just plain crazy.
He lit his horn, and extended his magic towards the box. Last time, he only had to try to pull a corner off; so hopefully this box had a similar trigger, because he didn't really know anything about magical seals.
Basically, he was at the whim of the sender; though that wasn't anything particularly new.
His magical grip pinched the edge of the box, and he took a moment to breathe. He was ready, this was happening.
He pulled.
The box instantly lit up in a very familiar... white glow?
He frowned, and scooted his chair away slightly as the the box glimmered with subtle white light. This wasn't right. The first box had lit up with a brilliant golden glow, glowing bright enough to nearly blind him. This box was just glowing with a plain white light, which was very pretty and cool; but it wasn't anywhere near as awe-inspiring as the first phenomenon.
It didn't even burn his eyes, he could stare directly at the light with no problem. The gleam from this box didn't even come close to stacking up against the last one. It was almost like comparing the sun to a regular light, or a fire.
Or the word 'gleam' to, say, the word 'radiance' .
He felt the cool light on his fur for a moment, before the glow slowly died out. The top of the box seemed to waver, before shimmering out of sight.
And that was it. The light burned out with little fanfare, and he was left sitting in front of an ordinary box that was now missing its top. No grand lightshow or flashy performance, just a glowy box with a disappearing lid.
That was... okay.
Sort of, maybe. He didn't know, was it? He had just expected so much more out of the experience. The first time he had been struck nearly silent with awe, and the mystique of the event was something that had kept him up for many nights afterward.
Seeing something so... lame, just kind of ruined it.
Was it wrong to feel disappointed? Probably.
He sighed as his face set itself in a melancholy expression. He was still excited, sure; but it was somewhat overshadowed by the lackluster performance of the box.
Why was this one different from the last one? They were identical in every way except for the light, so why was that different?
He didn't know. He just didn't know.
He needed more information.
He scooted his chair towards the inert box laying on his desk, wincing slightly at the sound of wood scraping against stone. His headache may have magically disappeared, but sound had a way of amplifying in small, enclosed spaces.
His ears laid themselves on his head as he peered closer at the open box. It was absolutely identical in every way to the other one, there was no doubt. Although, while it may have been visually identical, there was something unseen bothering him.
His nose crinkled as a very strange scent made its way around him. It was definitely coming from the box, but he couldn't imagine what was causing it. He had never seen, or smelled a book like this; and he was starting to doubt the contents of the package.
The smell wasn't immediately recognizable, but it was making him sort of uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why, but it just set him on almost imperceptible edge; as if his body was actively rebelling against the very idea of the scent.
His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply to take in more of the smell. He really wanted to figure this out, but it was just so hard. It smelled kind of... burnt? Kind of like an overcooked meal, or the remnants of used firewood? Was that it?
No, it was more subtle. He didn't think he actually had any frame of reference to adequately describe it, it was so foreign .
He didn't know how to feel about it.
He shook his head slightly as the weird smell swirled around him. No matter which way he turned, the olfactory menace would find its way back to him; like a cockroach sneaking into the smallest crack in a wall. There was just no way to prevent it from squeezing in there.
Okay, he needed to snap out of it. Sitting around guessing smells was a spectacular waste of time, no matter how interesting or disconcerting they were. There were far better ways of deducing, not to mention far less strange ways.
He eyed the open top of the box with what was absolutely scientific curiosity. If he wanted to know what the smell was, the solution was simple.
Hypothesis: there was something in the box that was making the smell.
It was time to test.
He lit his horn, and hefted the box in his magic. It wasn't as heavy as the first one, but volumes one and two of NfF were both pretty beefy books; and it was hard to compete with the sheer size of two beginners' level tomes on magic.
The box leveled out with his head, and he turned it towards him slightly. He could see a faint sliver of brown peeking out, as well as a much smaller vein of faded white.
The brown was probably the book, while the white...
He stuck his tongue between his lips as he carefully grasped what felt like the edge of the colorless object, and felt a smile creep along his face as he levitated an envelope out of its strange-smelling confines.
He set the box back down on the desk while keeping his eyes trained on the letter. Situations like these called for a specific order of events, and a proper decorum. A letter should be opened before the present, and a note read before a book.
As much as he didn't care, he knew Rarity would approve of his actions.
He pursed his lips as the thought made it way forward. He wouldn't be surprised if Rarity had just sneezed or something. She always seemed to know when ponies were talking about her, or looking at her, or thinking about her.
He shuddered slightly, before turning his attention to the envelope in his grasp. It was a very familiar sight, one he had seen quite often, actually.
He had studied the letter quite often over the years, in no small part due to his dwindling amount of things to read. He had practically burned that envelope into his head, and he could tell at a glance that this one was very nearly identical.
It wasn't quite like the boxes, which were two absolute copies of each other; but it was similar enough to the other envelope that there was very little doubt as to who sent it to him. It had the same dryness, the same flowery pattern, even the same scent of dust; though it was mostly overpowered by the other smell.
He had come up with a number of theories about the envelope's strange condition, but they all seemed pretty off base. The post office hadn't been much of a help either, and any clues they offered were likely unimportant.
So what if this kind of envelope was only used a very long time ago? The sender must just like old things, which he could absolutely relate to. He would probably use these envelopes if he had a surplus, though he didn't actually ever send any letters.
Still, maybe he could rack up a collection.
He filed a mental note away to file the envelope away, and turned it over. His eyes narrowed as he took in the generic, unbroken seal on its back.
That was odd, the first letter had been open when he received it.
His mind flew into a frenzy of accusations and whispers, but he quickly suppressed the activity. This was lending credence to one of his many paranoid theories about the letter, but it was impossible to know for sure until he opened it.
He had to see the letter, the actual letter with the words on it. If he was correct...
He quickly and messily tore the seal off of the envelope, along with a large chunk of the back. He winced internally, but pressed forward. If this was what he thought it was, then something was seriously wrong. Ruined antiques were the least of his concerns.
He flipped the tab open, and his heart picked up speed as he caught a glimpse of faded white paper.
His head shook from side to side autonomously, and he subconsciously muttered words of denial under his breath.
He tugged it out with little concern for its safety, frantically searching for evidence to the contrary of what he was seeing; but his eyes weren't lying to him, and what he saw was absolutely real.
The paper was old. It was old, and wrinkly, and dusty, and smelly, and old .
The paper in the first one had been brand-new.
His eyes fluttered closed as something small inside of him shattered. His breath hitched as the very old paper dipped low in his magical hold.
Someone had tampered with the first package.
He took deep, heaving breaths as multiple things in his head collided at once.
What did this mean? Who did this? Why would they do it? Who could do it?
What had they done ?
He could feel his eyes misting a little, and he sniffed loudly as he reached a hoof up to wipe at them. What was he going to do?
This... this could ruin everything. Literally everything in his life. Who knew how much of his information was false, or worse: harmful? What if everything he had learned was a lie? All of it fed to him by somepony who had hijacked his entire dream for some unknowable purpose.
What was he supposed to do now?
His breathing began to even out, though it was still extremely jittery. He crossed his hooves over themselves, and held his own body as he shivered violently.
It was such a cold feeling, but it stung in his veins all the same. It spread through his body, sapping his warmth and energy wherever it went.
It felt horrible.
So, he was panicking. He could recognize that, thanks to his experience with the event. He needed to calm down, and think rationally. Spiraling never solved anything except more of the same. He would have to dig himself out of this pit, and fast; or else he would sit around, stuck in his own mind until Equus froze over.
First, he had to establish safe ground. Something to stick himself to if he failed and his world completely crumbled.
He had this box, that was a positive. There was little to no chance that this one had been tampered with, or at least not noticeably.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and cursed at himself. What was wrong with him?!
No, this box was fine. There was no chance that anypony else had gotten to it first. He was the first one to open it, and the contents were as real as he was.
Okay, he had a safe space, what next?
Calming down, minimizing the damage.
It probably wasn't as bad as he thought. He was just blowing things out of proportion as usual, and he just needed to remember that reality was never as cruel as his imagination.
He could remember a time where he had obsessed endlessly over something he had said to Applejack in passing, because he was sure he had inadvertently ruined their friendship and she would never want anything to do with him ever again.
But it had turned out that Applejack either hadn't heard him or didn't care, because the next time he had seen her, she acted like nothing had happened.
This was probably just like that. Just because everything he had received from the first box could have been a lie, that didn't mean it was .
What was there to tamper with, really? The books themselves were almost certainly correct, since he had personally observed several things noted within them. If the books were forgeries, then they were damn good ones.
His knowledge was probably safe, so what about the letter itself? The contents of that letter had shaped his thoughts and decisions throughout his life, so it would obviously be devastating if any part of it had been fabricated, right?
Oh, did he mean the letter that called him a monster, threatened to have him killed, then insinuated that his life could have been much worse?
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if it was fake.
He snuggled into his cloak as his hooves tightened around himself, and he breathed a shuddering sigh.
He didn't want the letter to be fake, though.
The harsh words and imperceptible prophecies meant so much to him, they were almost as precious as the books themselves.
He felt a lump grow in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. He was already having a breakdown, he didn't need to start crying on top of all the other stuff.
This funk clearly wasn't going to go away anytime soon, it was just too much to handle all at once. He was going to have to function like this, as hard as it would be.
He stared blankly at the paper still held in his grip. It was a little more wrinkled than before, likely a side-effect of the pony holding it having a part of their worldview shatter, but it was still together.
Maybe a little light reading would occupy his fragmented mind?
He could see the thankfully-familiar messy scrawl on the front, and it brought a small amount of comfort to him. Just a tiny feeling of warmth in a vast tundra.
Hopefully, the actual words would act as fuel.
Light Flow.
I wish to begin this letter with something altogether alien, and untoward of me. Something that, for all the ponies who know me, none can say they have wrested from my lips with nothing less than the most backhooven and incorrigible effort.
I wish to apologize.
I can already hear your unbridled jubilance at my admission of fallacy, but do not be so hasty; for this apology is related to something that has yet to come.
In my old age, and to my utter shame, I seem to have grown quite daft.
My original intent was to have several necessary tomes sent to you at various critical points in your life, in the hopes that a familiar voice and a guiding hoof would keep you from the path of darkness; but in doing so: I have made a critical mistake.
Truly, I am the greatest fool of all to have not seen this coming.
My direct intervention in this matter has caused yet another fracture, and a new, major future to form. One which I am both unworthy, and unable to see.
My shame is paramount, and my regret: uncharacteristic.
Due to my foolish judgement, you now trot down an unknown path toward your final future. I have seen all possibilities for you, except for this one, terrifying end.
I have no knowledge of where you are going, but I know that you will do great things, whether they be evil or just.
Yet, everything I have said thus far is, incredibly, besides the point.
The point, as it would be: is that you are in danger.
One week from when you should receive this package, a great calamity will befall the land.
On the one-thousandth Summer Sun Celebration, an unconscionable evil will reign, and Princess Celestia will fall.
The sun will set, and the moon will rise.
But not forever.
On that day, shrouded in the mists and mires of the Endless Night; six mares will take their place in history as great heroes, and return the beloved Sun to its rightful rule.
But all is no longer well with the story, for I fear that somepony has taken a metaphorical pen to the tale.
My sight may have left me, but my senses are still sharp. Something has tampered with the storybook, trying to rewrite critical lines and important events.
The complete loss of our heroes has never before been a possibility, yet now; it is so.
But I am not infallible, as was discussed earlier. It is possible that the tale will end as it was meant to, and all shall be as well as it was always known to be.
But possibilities have never sat well with me.
That is why I have gone out of my way for this long-winded speech about apologies and futures. For obvious reasons, I have a heavy investment in the future as it was foretold.
I need a backup plan.
In the box you have received with this note, you will find three books on the reviled magical field of Flesh Manipulation.
A very powerful, very illegal form of magic; but I know you do not shy from skirting the rules.
If all goes as horribly as reality dares to make it, Equestria will need you. This knowledge alone will not help you to defeat the Queen of Nightmares, but it will help you to survive upon the eve of her ascension to the throne.
If your path darkens in this way, your life will invariably be consumed with strife and torment; and for that, I offer a meaningless platitude.
Hope beyond hope in the depths of your blackened heart that the future stays its current course.
Now, if we could somehow find the point once more: you were likely expecting books more directly relating to Necromancy. To that, I would ask that your entitled mind take a back seat for the moment.
Your books will come, for I have already sent them; and they should still arrive for the moments they were meant. As I said, this future was unseen; thus, this letter was unplanned. This is your second time hearing from me, but it will be my last time writing to you.
Do not grow excited, there will be no heartfelt message from me on the subject of my encroaching death.
I hold no emotional attachment to you, and you should feel likewise. Your difficulties with your own mind notwithstanding: a pony would have to be truly insane to nurture any sort of fondness for one such as me.
I believe I have said all that is required. You know your danger, you know of your future, and your knowledge is secured.
My work is done, and thus, I leave you with a parting message.
On the day of day's end, you must find a mare named Twilight Sparkle. She is the key to Equestria's salvation.
Or, at least, she should be. It is not as if my knowledge is absolute any longer.
It is somewhat humbling.
Light Flow closed his eyes, and let his horn fizzle out.
The letter and the envelope both fluttered lightly and soundlessly to the floor, as if afraid of testing his straining mind.
He took a deep breath.
And another. And another.
And another and another and another and another and another and-
Okay, he was just breathing deeply; but it was helping to compartmentalize each and every breath.
At some point during the letter, he had stopped shaking, and his eyes had become dry. That was all to be expected though.
Many problems suddenly become less important in the face of all-consuming doom.
Really, he thought he was handling this all very well.
Sure, an evil, apparently moon-themed villain was going to rise to power and take over the kingdom in less than a week.
Sure, he was apparently Equestria's backup plan if six legendary heroes somehow failed to stop the evil.
Sure, he was going to have to endure a life of agony and misfortune if things went badly.
Sure, his new books were on something that was apparently called 'Flesh Manipulation'.
Sure, it was sounding increasingly like his benefactor lived in the distant past and was certainly dead now.
Sure, his benefactor no longer knew what future lay ahead of him.
Sure, he-
Light Flow screamed, as loudly as he could.
Author's Note
Oh no! Our hero has lost his memory, and he's up against an unknown evil?
Whatever shall he do ?!
Probably win somehow, I dunno.
Anyway, this chapter was lots of fun to write. Memory loss is obviously something familiar to this story, but this was the first time I had to write it. I hope I did a decent job!
Poor Light, creatures keep messing with his head.
The long awaited scene of him opening the box has arrived! And then I cut the scene with him looking at the books because the chapter was too long! Hooray! Don't worry, It'll be in the next chapter. probably
Anyway, it's probably obvious to a lot of people who's sending the letters at this point. There are a lot of clues, even outside of this chapter. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone gets it! heh heh i'm lying that would be incredibly shocking.
The next chapter will either be out decently soon or it won't be out for a week. My schedule's a little weird right now, and this one only came out so soon because I wrote 3/4ths of it immediately after I wrote the last chapter.
We're not quite to The Big Event™ yet, but we're getting there! Even I can only pad stuff out for so long before I just end up writing an entire chapter that is just Light thinking.
Wait, what was the point of that sentence?
Also, I just want to add a little aside. I have titled the last three chapters 'the warning' before I ended up changing them.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
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Chapter 32 - The Trepidation
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Chapter 35 - His Madness 1/2
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Chapter 36 - His Madness 2/2
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The Stereotypical Necromancer
Ç̸̦̙̀h̶̦͔̜̓̈́a̷̡̨͋̌́p̶͓̥̦͂̏ṫ̴̡̝̬͛ě̴̥̿r̵̢̘͐̏ ̴̘͇̓2̶̪̰̉̆3̸͈̫̈́2̸͈̮̑̓͜͝9̷̩̲̎͆ ̷̠̊̊-̶͖̝̀̈͊ ̸̬̤̦̋̚̚R̶͙̆̑e̴̖̲̓m̷̡̝͊ĕ̸͔̐͌m̵̡̨͓̒͗b̷̺͎̓͑e̷͈̲̍r̵̬͌
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Chapter 40 - Wake Up (Retitled)
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Chapter 41 - The Illusion (Retitled)
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Chapter 42 - The Resentment (Retitled)
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Chapter 43 - Order (Retitled)
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Chapter 44 - The Realization (Retitled)
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The Stereotypical Necromancer
Intermission - The Farmer and The Fashionista
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Intermission - The Amnesiac
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Intermission - The Secret Agent
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Chapter 52 - The Confession
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Chapter 53 - Magic's Inquisition
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Chapter 54 - Contrasting Elements
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Chapter 55 - Princess' Genesis
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Intermission - Plural Divinity
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Chapter 56 - Flawed Emerald
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Intermission - Recovery and Loss
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Intermission - Agent's Rest
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Chapter 58 - Love's Frustration
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Chapter 59 - Chromatic Interjection
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Chapter 61 - Waxing Crescent
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Chapter 62 - Waxing Explication
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Chapter 63 - Begrudged Accord
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Chapter 66 - Undead Methodology
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Chapter 1 - The Walk Home
Author's Note
Hey first time readers!
I've completely scrapped the old AN in favor of this new one, where I urge you to give the story a chance.
These first couple chapters are, at best, subpar. I don't think I could read them, and I wrote them.
Basically, I'm just here to ask that you not judge the book by the cover here. The chapters after chapter seven are much better, so don't give up here if it hurts to read.
I promise, I'll try to make it worth your while.
Chapter 1 - The Walk Home
Celestial Year 991 AB
Equestria.
It's a beautiful place, one we all know well. A marvelous place, where a pony's dreams can come true. From the light-filled capital Canterlot; to the high spires of the bustling maretropolis known as Manehatten, there's a place for everypony. Filled with wonders and whimsy. Sights and sounds. Music and mayhem. Ponies and palaces. Creatures...and chapters of my newest book! Hello there ponies of all ages! I'm the world famous author Page Puncher, and I'm here to talk to you about-
Light Flow sighed as he tuned out the inane babbling coming from the nearby radio. He had hoped to catch something about the weather report for tomorrow, but no dice it seemed.
Rainstorms make for excellent brooding!
He turned away from the crowded front of the local bakery and continued his trot down the street towards his home. His mother always worried when he came home late, and while it didn't fit with his established personality, he didn't really want her to freak out.
He hated when she freaked out. It made him feel the opposite of dark and brooding.
He wasn't a foal!
As he walked down the twilight-shaded streets of Ponyville, he looked at the ponies around him. Watching what they were doing, hearing what they were saying, plotting out where they were going. It was a bad habit of his, really it was; though one he had tried very hard to fabricate for himself. It was a popular opinion in his books that cool ponies are wary and cautious, and that meant watching the ponies around him.
He was cool, and watchful!
Unfortunately, as he tried very hard to fit into his own definition of 'cool'; he walked directly into a pony who was quite obviously standing in front of him. If he had been any good at looking at the ponies around him, he definitely would have noticed the obstacle; though he'd never admit it to anypony. The collision shocked him out of his pony-watching, and he turned a furious gaze upon the fool that dared to stand in his way!
Oh. It was his neighbor. He didn't actually know her name, but she was really nice, and she gave him fresh fruit from her cart sometimes.
Nice ponies are the antithesis of those who lurk in the dark!
He frowned at her, and swished his two-tone red and brown mane out of his eyes. He had grown his mane out specifically so that he could do that. Mysterious ponies always have long manes that they have to constantly flip out of their eyes. Of course, he was only nine, and his mane was barely long enough to even dip down into his vision, but it was the principle of the thing!
Internally, he was thinking about how much longer it would take for his mane to reach a certified 'cool' length. He wasn't really sure how long that was, but he was sure that he would know it when it happened. He shook his head slightly to shoo away the stray thoughts, and turned his short attention towards the pony in front of him.
The nice pony-who-he-hated smiled down at him sweetly. Completely unaware of the plot he was hatching at that very second to dispose of this hated do-gooder! First, he would club her over the head! Then he would get rid of the witnesses. Then, he would-
"Well hello there Light Flow! How are you today? Are you getting along with the other foals at school? You're not getting into fights are you? Are you getting enough to eat? How is your mother? Is she well? You know, I saw her the other day at-"
The nice pony-who-he-despised cleverly targeted his only weakness: boring things! His eyes glazed over, and he began to lose focus on his forming plan to dispose of the body.
No! He cannot be defeated!
He had to think of a way to escape the nonsense filling his head! He was in serious danger here! After all, how can he plot his schemes if all he can think about is his mother's encounters with boring old ladies!? He tried desperately to catch his fleeing thoughts before they escaped his head and let those around him know of his dastardly schemes. Metaphorically making a leap, he finally managed to wrangle one! He had a plan, now all he had to do was implement it...
"Um that sounds great ma'am, but I gotta get home, so bye!" He mumbled out, and quickly left the NOT-victorious old mare behind. The plan was a total success! He heard her call out about whether his mother was free tomorrow, but he shut his ears from the sickly-sweet words of the kind fruit vendor. Resolving to steel his will against her endless tirades of nothingness the next time he encountered her, he trotted down the street to his home.
The setting sun framed the far-off royal city of Canterlot, and he made yet-another promise to himself to one day rule from there with a mighty iron hoof. He stood around for a moment, admiring the cool shades of encroaching nighttime and reveling in the darkness, before promptly hurrying on his way.
Of course night is his favorite time of day! It's not scary at all!
He stalked through the darkness, letting it envelop him like a cloak; before letting out a fearsome battle-cry when he suddenly heard a noise in the dark. He whirled around to the source, ready for battle, but found nothing there. He laughed in a fearsome manner, before walking at an average pace towards his home.
Even the most fearsome monsters fear something. And that something was Him!
As his house came into view, he internally sighed, and let his practiced stormy visage fade away. He walked across his slightly-overgrown lawn with his brows furrowed and his ears folded. Coming to his doorstep, he looked down at his brown hooves and let a real frown form on his face.
Practicing to be a villain is really hard...
The Stereotypical Necromancer
It was impossible, he decided. It simply couldn't be true. Of all the things that could possibly happen, why did this have to happen, at this time, to him?! Why him?
Light Flow sat against a tree in the yard of the schoolhouse. He clutched a brown-colored book in his hooves as he stared with a pouty expression towards a pony playing on the swing set.
Orange Hooves.
His frown deepened, and he cursed under his breath with words his mother would never approve of. But he didn't care. The characters in his new book used those words, so why shouldn't he?
He had never wanted to see those orange hooves ever again, and even worse, now he could see the pony attached to them. Oh how he wished he could go back to not knowing what she looked like. Though, If somepony were forcing him to be completely honest, he would say that the filly with the triple apple cutie mark was, in a word, cute .
But if anypony just asked what he thought of her, he would say she was incredibly ugly . He would say that he hated the dumb orange apple pony. He would say that he didn't like her long, blonde mane that caught the light in a near-perfect facsimile of a beautiful meadow's day. That he didn't enjoy the way that she set it in a ponytail so that her soft, lovely face was always in view. He would say that the subtle orange shades of her coat were an eyesore and that they certainly didn't remind him of a sunset. And he would, above all else, condemn those deep green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight like perfect emeralds.
He hated the color green. And he didn't even really like the color yellow either, or orange. He didn't even really like apples at all, or sunsets.
He turned his attention away from the disgusting filly, and her disgusting antics on the disgusting playground equipment. Instead, he focused on his newest obsession, conveniently symbolized by the brown book he was holding in his hooves. It was a relatively plain book, unremarkable to any who saw it, but Light Flow considered it a personal treasure of his.
'The Necromancer and the Night'
His previous frown slipped away, and was replaced by a dumb smile as he stared dreamily at the book. He couldn't believe he had never heard about Necromancy before. Well, he could believe it actually. It was pretty easy to completely miss the existence of the dark art.
From what he could gather from the book in his hooves, as well as a big book he found at the library that had a bunch of laws in it: Necromancy was an super touchy subject. Extremely taboo, as well as being extremely illegal, he hadn't even been able to find out what the penalty was for studying it.
He imagined it wasn't good.
He didn't care about any of that though. It wasn't illegal to write fiction about it, and that was all that mattered to him. After he discovered the book during that stupid Saturday evening, he had been reading it almost nonstop. He was almost done with it actually, and he would've finished by now if his stupid mother hadn't told him to go to school. He was planning on going to the library after school to talk to the librarian about more books on the subject.
He smiled as he took the book in his red magic glow, and opened to where he had placed his bookmark. He was right at the part where the Necromancer resurrects his Dark Mistress, and they formulate their plan to overthrow the Princess. In the back of his mind, he idly wondered why such sacrilegious material was allowed to exist, but he found that he didn't really care. As long as he wasn't going to be arrested for reading, he would stay his current course.
Because he loved Necromancy.
It was the coolest thing he had ever read about! Screw those dark-and-broody plotholes that sat around moaning about the futility of life or whatever! Now he could read about real dark-and-broody villains that actually did things, and sat around boasting about the perks of un-life!
The idea of raising the dead was so incredibly awesome! It was the darkest and most vile thing he had ever heard of! Shackling those who have passed from this plane of existence to your unbreakable will, and forcing them to do your bidding? Commanding dark legions made of undying zombie ponies, who have no fear or morals? Creating a catalyst to hold your soul in, and becoming immortal?
That's another thing he loved! Immortality had always been a hot topic in his books, since living forever is a horrible, never-ending ride of constantly watching those you love die. Forced to forever stay distant from those around you, for fear of getting too close to anypony that would surely die in a blink of the eye. Embracing a fate of eternal loneliness, only ever watching over the place you used to call home as it gradually changes irrevocably!?
Or something.
But Necromancy solves those problems! You can just bring your loved ones back to life, and live together with them forever!
Not that he had loved ones. Villains can't have loved ones, because they can be used against them.
He grinned behind the safety of his beloved book. It took him a while to learn that it was okay to show feelings besides anger, as long as no one can see you. Hiding your emotions is a sign of depth of character, or at least that's what he had read. Truth be told, he didn't even really understand what 'depth of character' even meant. From what he could gather by reading, it meant that a character that only has a few traits is badly written, and uninteresting.
He knew he didn't have that problem though. He was a deep, interesting villain with a tragic backstory!
Unfortunately, because he was so busy pondering the depth of his character, and fabricating tragic events to monologue to heroes about: he completely missed the bell that let the foals know that recess was over. The sharp ringing noise was rendered deaf to his ears, and he continued to sit there stewing in his own thoughts until he became aware of a pony approaching him.
His ears stood up straight, and a shiver went up his back. He had thought he had seen a flash of... orange? He lifted the book in his magic up a little and caught a clear view at a familiar sight. He smacked the book into his face and groaned out loud.
Orange Hooves. Of course.
"Hey sugarcube, you know it's time to- Wait a minute...." He couldn't see her, but he was assuming the totally-ugly apple pony was making some sort of ugly scrunchy face. He heard a gasp, and he hit himself in the face with his book again, knowing that this situation could be nothing but bad.
"I recognize you! Yer that rude kid from the other day!"
Rude...? Him? He was the rude one?
He felt his anger rise in that way that he had carefully cultivated, and he lowered the book so that he could see the other pony. He glared with his best Angered Glare into the unflinching green eyes, and attempted to will the annoying fly into leaving him alone. Couldn't she see that he was trying to read?!
The clearly stupid orange pest took a step back. Likely in fear of his practiced scary expression. He had worked a long time to make his face contort in ways that could shock anypony into a deep, instinctual fear. He internally grinned in triumph. It was working!
"You okay there 'pardner? You need to use the bathroom or somethin'?
His face almost literally deflates. Suddenly, his face took on a stony, neutral expression as his suddenly overtaxed mind struggled to comprehend the words. His jaw hung open, and his ears pressed themselves against his head; as if somepony had pulled his plug, and he had completely lost power.
"Uh! Are you okay?! Your face is gettin' really red!"
He couldn't think. He felt as if lava was filling up his head and pouring out of his ears in the form of great big rolling clouds of smoke. He continued to stare unblinkingly at the pony who he suddenly had no strong opinions about. He didn't really have any thoughts about anything at the moment. The only thing in his head was a record player, playing the same thing over and over again, like it was stuck.
"You need to use the bathroom or somethin'?---You need to use the bathroom or somethin'?---You need to use the bathroom or somethin'?---You need to use the bathroom or somethin'?---You need to use the bathroom or somethin'?"
"Uh.. Wait here! I'll go get the nurse!" The strange pony in front of him shouted with a panicked expression on her face, before galloping off towards a building he wasn't sure he had ever seen before.
Anypony watching the spectacle would have observed the weird brown pony continue to gape at nothing, before eventually falling over in a dead faint.
What they wouldn't know, however, is the last thought that ran though his head before he lost consciousness. As his internal record player finally managed to unstuck itself, it wheezed out one last thing before exploding in a great burst of flames.
"Does my scary face really look like that?"
Author's Note
Hey there. I already wrote an AN, but then I accidently deleted it, so I'm just gonna tell you to comment your thoughts on the story so far. Do it, you won't.
The Stereotypical Necromancer
Light Flow was hit in the head with a brick.
Or at least that's what it felt like when consciousness unmercifully brought him crashing back into pain.
He moaned into the pillow he was lying face-first in. The cushion may have been soft, but it may as well have been made of rock for all the good it was doing his splitting headache.
It was a deep, throbbing pain. Pulsing throughout his body in time with his heartbeat. He had no idea why it was there, but he could at least take a few guesses.
He was still lying in his mother's bed, which was good. There was a large part of him that thought the letter had been some sort of wild dream his subconscious had cooked up to try and make him feel better.
Though, just because he was in his mother's bed didn't mean the letter was real.
He shifted his face just enough so that one eye was free from the dark confines of comfort. The first thing he saw was the burning morning light filtering through a nearby window. If he had been a different sort of villain, he would have hissed or maybe disintegrated or something.
Luckily, the only thing he was inclined to do was groan in pain as the light irritated his headache.
The vanity wasn't giving him any clues from where it was just sitting there against the wall, so he would have to get up to check the existence of the letter. There was just one problem.
He really didn't want to get up.
He couldn't really remember what happened last night, but the random dark stains on the bedsheets and pillows led him to believe he had cried himself to sleep. That, or he was developing some sort of complex.
It wasn't a big surprise to learn that he had cried so much. He felt weak and weary, probably a side-effect of the total emotional drain he had experienced yesterday. He had been trying to pretend he wasn't feeling anything for a while, but it became pretty obvious he was lying to himself.
So finally having a chance to metaphorically lay it all out on the table had been really cleansing. Aside from the headache, he felt better than he had in days. He was lucid enough now to recognize the serious mental deterioration he had been undergoing, and he wondered how he hadn't seen it sooner.
He remembered the screaming in his head, the voices overlapping and meshing together. How they were all telling him to forget the consequences, and just take what he wanted. The horrible sight of a stolen soul in his bloodied hooves. He had been so close to making that vision a reality.
He was just going to accept the fact that he wasn't perfect, he supposed.
He shut his one free eye and made a noise not unsimilar to a dying animal as he stretched his back hooves out behind him. The strange popping noises his joints made probably weren't a good thing, but he could deal with his potential body problems at a later time.
He reluctantly gathered his hooves under him and forced himself up. His legs shook as they fought to support his own weight, and he squinted at the shining beams of light as they seemed to actively take up some sort of cause against him. Eventually, his eyes became accustomed to the light, and he could keep him eyes open without wincing.
He looked down at the bed beneath him, and went right back to wincing as he saw how dirty the sheets were. Bits of dirt and other unidentifiable stuff had stuck themselves to the sheets, and he could only wonder at how dirty he must be.
He was going to have to take a shower. And get a new cloak at some point, since his was obviously thoroughly ruined.
'Rarity is gonna kill me.'
He was going to try and put that particular errand off for as long as possible, and not just because of the potential physical danger. There were just a lot more important things he needed to be doing.
For instance, he needed to make sure that letter was real.
He reluctantly hopped off the bed, instantly beginning to miss the soft mattress under his hooves. He trudged over to the nearby vanity, and opened up the drawer that supposedly held the letter.
It was still there, good.
He just stared at it for a moment, feeling a a small smile worm its way across his face. Even now, his mother was still helping him. She had really saved him from himself yesterday.
He closed his eyes, and the horrible memories of red hooves and dancing lights were washed away. His head was filled with the soft sounds of love and acceptance, and the sweet smell of cinnamon. He felt warmth suffuse itself throughout his body, and his headache seemed to lessen a bit.
He opened his teary eyes, and closed the drawer.
"Thank you." he whispered softly.
He turned away from the vanity, and towards the door.
Forward. Into life.
He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He took a moment to trot over to his room, slipping his cloak off as he did so. He opened the door slightly ajar and tossed the dirty garment inside, before closing it.
He turned his attention to the bathroom door. First on the agenda was cleaning himself.
He trotted into the bathroom, and turned on the light. He was momentarily blinded by the light bouncing off the white tile, but his eyes quickly adjusted.
The bathroom was the same as ever. Just an ordinary bathroom, with a sink, a toilet, and a tub. Nothing special or emotionally devastating to be seen.
It was refreshing.
He stepped into the tub, and turned the cold water knob.
Freezing cold water cascaded down from the overhead nozzle, and he smiled into the stream as it quickly matted his fur. Most ponies liked hot showers, but he had trained himself to enjoy colder water when he was a child. It was one of those things he had thought real villains would enjoy, so he had spent every shower possible acclimating himself to colder and colder temperatures.
He had done a lot of things like that as a kid. Though he technically was still a kid. Now that he thought about it, there were probably lots of weird things he did now that he would regret when he was older.
Like spending three days in a forest.
He swore he could feel the accumulated grime wash away under the force of the much-needed cleaning.
His short mane stuck itself onto his face, and he ran a hoof through the wet stands, feeling them cling together messily. He knew at this point that it was unlikely to ever grow past this length. His childhood dream of a long swishy mane was officially dead.
The cold water ran down his back, over his cutie mark, and pooled on his red and brown tail. What a journey it was, descending the metaphorical mountain.
He looked down, and scrunched his face up in disgust at the sight of the brown water flowing into the drain.
He really had been dirty.
After his shower and subsequent drying, he had just spent some time loitering in his own living room. Trying to recall everything he possibly could about the room.
Anything that had happened here, no matter how small, he wanted to remember.
At the moment, he was sitting on the familiar lumpy couch trying to remember every story his mother had ever told him.
Soft whispers of fantasy creatures and far-off lands filled his ears, and he closed his eyes to hear them better.
..Here's one about Abyssinia...
...Kingdom of Cats and endless summers...
...Wonderful place....
..Hear they have this festival called...
'Knock Knock Knock'
Light Flow frowned. He didn't remember that in the story.
He opened his eyes and turned his head to the source of the intrusive sound.
There seemed to be somepony at the door, though he had no idea who would be coming to see him. Well-wishers, perhaps?
"You in there, sugarcube?"
Oh. Well he supposed that answered that.
His annoyed expression grew melancholy, and he briefly considered hiding somewhere. He wasn't especially sure he wanted to see Applejack right now. An emotional reconciliation would kind of ruin the bittersweet mood he had going.
But another insistent knocking at the door pushed the thought from his mind. He needed to see her, so now was as good a time as any.
He had to apologize. He had promised.
He stood up from the couch, and made his way over to the door.
He stared at the wooden surface for a moment, trying desperately to collect his thoughts.
So he would start with an apology, alright. He would say he was sorry that he had tried to get rid of her, but would that be enough? Maybe he should buy her a present or something. What did she like? She liked apples, but that was a given. He was pretty sure he had once seen her checking out poetry books though, so he would get her a book of poetry. But that would come later, so what would he do now? Well, he could give her a nice long explanation, but what would that entail? 'Hey, so I almost went insane. Forgive me?' That was dumb, he should be less concise. Speaking of verbosity, what was he doing just standing around thinking? Maybe he was crazy.
'Knock Knock Knock '
"Are you there, Light Flow?"
He took a deep breath. He was keeping her waiting, and his mother always said that was a big thing to avoid.
He grasped the doorknob in his magic grip, and heard a small gasp from the other side of the door.
Well, she knew he was here now, so no turning back. No matter how much the feeling in his stomach was making him want to throw up.
He swung the door open, and immediately saw an orange hoof.
Attached to the hoof was one flustered looking Applejack who had been in the process of knocking again. She quickly lowered her hoof and rested it against her other one in a very familiar nervous pose.
He flicked his eyes up to her head, where she was wearing a hat that was still a little too big for her. She had been saying for a while now that It would fit right 'any day now', but he never saw any difference.
He lowered his eyes to a very distressed orange face. She didn't look very good, and that was saying something coming from him.
She didn't look as if she was brushing her coat, and the fur on her face was ruffled and sticking up. Like she had laid her face against something for hours, and then didn't look in a mirror.
Her mane was also sort of crumply, and it wasn't set into her ponytail very well. Little strands of blonde hair stuck out from the band, which was itself also sort of loose.
Her eyes were baggy and slightly red, and he guessed she hadn't been getting a lot of sleep. He could only wonder why. After all, his problems didn't really affect Applejack that much, so why would she be losing sleep?
His words hadn't effected her that much, had they? Actually, what had he said to her? He couldn't quite remember, there were just hazy memories of sadness and mania.
He knew he had said something bad to her, at least.
He realized he was staring, which was something he knew he did a lot, but usually somepony stopped him. But Applejack was sort of just letting him stare at her. Of course, she was similarly staring at him with sad, vacant green eyes, so he had to wonder if she was spacing out like he usually did.
Maybe he was the one influencing her ?
That would be a bad thing.
He would have to be the one to speak first. Not a common occurrence, but also not the weirdest thing that had happened recently.
"Applejack?"
She started at the sound of her name. Her eyes went wide, and she stuttered ineffectually for a moment before finding a word.
"Y-Yeah?"
He blinked at her dazed reply, before frowning. He couldn't recall anytime she had been like this. Even at her worst, Applejack always had something to say. It didn't matter what the topic was, or where the conversation was going, she would at least interject with something .
So it was his fault. She must've been scared of him or something. He would have to ask her what he had said to her during that strange missing part of his memory.
Enough stalling, it was time for him to apologize. Then he could get on with re-establishing their friendship.
He licked his lips, and opened his mouth.
"I'm sorry."
Two pairs of eyes blinked owlishly at each other.
They had just apologized at the same time.
"What are you sorry for?"
He groaned out loud. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He reached up to place a hoof on Applejacks lips, intent on stopping this before it got ridiculous.
"I'm sorry, but I'm stopping this now. I refuse to be a part of such a dumb cliché. Tell me why you're sorry."
Applejack nodded behind his hoof, and he took it away. She immediately began speaking, her voice colored with obvious regret.
"B-Because of what I said to y'all! I'm so sorry sugarcube, I didn't mean it! I don't know what came over me! I was actin' nuttier than a squirrel in an apple tree!"
Okay, he could have gone without without of her bad countryisms, but he was pretty sure he understood. She was upset because she hung out with him out of pity? That was one of the few things he remembered, and it wasn't what he imagined was the cause of her distress.
"Um... Okay ... If you don't mind me asking, why are you upset about it?"
Applejack seemed taken aback by his blunt response. She stuttered for a moment, before replying in a much more lively voice.
"Wha- What d'you mean why ? Because it was a horrible thing to say, that's why!" Her face had taken on a hard edge during the sentence, and she had shouted the last part.
He couldn't even kind of understand why she was getting angry . Wasn't she supposed to be apologizing?
"Okay, well. You know I'm not upset about it, right? I mean, It's not like I didn't already know that. I don't even know why I asked in the first place anyway."
Seriously, why else would she have stuck around all this time? He wasn't exactly a good friend. Sure, hearing it from her own lips had kinda hurt at the time, but he wasn't angry about it. It didn't even change anything.
Nothing at all.
Applejack seemed to metaphorically deflate at his nonplussed reaction to her confession. Her aggravated expression slowly turned into one of defeat, and she sighed. She closed her eyes as she spoke again, almost like she didn't want to look at him.
"Sugarcube, I- I don't even know what to say to that.."
She opened her eyes, and turned them back up to him. He was taken aback by the desperation there. It seemed she wasn't finished.
"But that's not the end of it! Y'all never let me finish what I was gonna say!"
Not the end..?
What else could there possibly be to say?
He saw something in the background, and unfocused his eyes from Applejack so he could see better. It seemed they were an interesting spectacle, because he could have sworn he had just seen somepony duck into his neighbor's bushes.
He frowned at the offending foliage over Applejack's shoulder, and she turned around to see what he was looking at. When she found nothing, she turned back to him with a question in her eyes.
He kept his eyes on the bush as he answered her unasked question.
"We should continue this inside, Applejack. It'll.. uh... be more comfortable that way."
He was almost certain Applejack didn't believe that, but she accepted easily enough anyway.
"Alright sugarcube... If'n you say so."
He pressed himself to the side so that Applejack could squeeze by him. He didn't know why, but he had a really bad feeling about that bush. He didn't want to take his eyes off it for as long as possible.
Once Applejack was inside, he squinted his eyes at the bush one more time before shutting the door in front of him.
It was ten minutes later when a cream-colored mare stepped out of the bushes across from Light's house.
She frowned to herself, and quickly trotted away.
Her face had turned outwardly pleasant, but her mind was a whirlwind.
"That was bad, I was almost seen. I must be losing my touch just sitting around in this town. As nice as it's been."
"I don't think my cover's been blown, but I should probably lay low for a while, just in case."
"Her Highness isn't going to be happy....."
Light stared at Applejack from his spot on the couch next to her.
She had been hemming and hawing for a bit now, and it was very clear that whatever she was trying to say was hard for her.
He, in all his infinite patience, had been content to just sit and watch her try and gather herself. Specifically, he was taking some time to try and recognize some of the things he had read about souls.
Nothing he had read did anything to explain the strange blot at the center of her soul, but he could see other things. Things like a little periodic flash at a very specific place. It was near the corner, just below a seemingly random whirling of color he couldn't identify. He was pretty sure that was the area of the soul that governed feelings, but he wasn't one hundred percent.
The book hadn't said anything about it, but he figured that with a sharp eye and a wise mind, a skilled Necromancer may be able to read the way a pony was feeling.
He could make a pretty good guess at how Applejack was feeling, so the way it was moving was probably a good benchmark for nervousness. He would have to remember it, or write it down or something. Would Applejack mind if he went and got a notebook? She probably would.
He flicked his eyes back up to Applejack's face just as she breathed in to speak. He was startled by ponies so often, he had begun to develop a certain sixth sense for when he should probably focus back into reality. Just a little extra awareness of deep breaths, or subtle twitches.
A useful skill, though it's unlikely anypony besides him would ever have need for something so mundane.
"Um... Well.... Like I said, sugarcube. I... I never got to finish what I was gonna say... on that day..."
Ah yes. Two days after the funeral. After he had run off to hide in the woods...
He still didn't like thinking about it.
"When... When I said that awful thing to you, I... I should have followed it up with the rest of the truth."
"When I met y'all... I admit, I was hangin' around you 'cause I felt bad for you."
He really wasn't seeing why Applejack was so keen on repeating the same thing over and over again.
"But that changed!"
....?
"At first... I thought you were really weird and creepy. And you still kinda are, sugarcube. But I've gotten to know y'all so much better since then!"
Applejack stood up from the couch suddenly. She turned to stare at him with fire in her eyes, and any hesitation she had before seemed to melt away.
"Sure, you can be really distant, and strange, and even a little mean sometimes; but I know there's somethin' else underneath all that!"
"You're.. you're really funny! Even if it's a really weird kind'a funny.. Sometimes, I have 'ta bite my lip to stop myself from laughin' at some new odd thing you've said!"
"And you're so smart too, sometimes I don't understand half'a the things that come outta your mouth! Honestly sugarcube, sometimes I can't believe it's you who would hang out with me !"
"And you're so kind, underneath all that bravado. I know how much you care about stuff, even when you act like you don't! I've seen how you hide yourself, and I hate it!"
"Cause.... Cause you're my best friend! "
A heavy silence fell over the room in the wake of Applejack's declaration.
Light was having a hard time processing all of the things she had just said to him. It felt like there was a skipping record in his head. Screeching and scratching as it played snippets of phrases over and over again.
...Funny... Kind.... Smart... Best Friend... Funny... Kind.... Smart... Best Friend... Funny... Kind.... Smart... Best Friend...
Best Friend... Best Friend... Best Friend... Best Friend... Best Friend...
"Best Friend..?"
Applejack was his best friend?
"Y-Yeah, sugarcube... I'm sorry I never told you... I've never had a friend like you, ever."
Huh? Had he said something out loud?
Did he say something out loud?! What did he say ?! What in Tartarus did he say?! It could have been anything, and he had barely heard what Applejack said, so he couldn't infer!
His thoughts were so unorganized, he could have said anything!
Okay, don't panic. He could just look at Applejack's face for clues.
....
Okay, 'nervous anticipation' didn't help!
Oh no. Now she was beginning to look disappointed. What did he do in a situation like this?! She was starting to look like she was going to cry! Wasn't she supposed to only cry on the inside?! Why had nopony prepared him for this?!
"I-I'm sorry, s-sugarcube.. I s-shouldn't have bogged you down with s-somethin' like this so soon after... I'm sorry. M-Maybe I should just..."
She was edging towards the door. She was going to leave! He had to do something!
He quickly stood up from the couch, and Applejack watched him warily with wet eyes.
His mind still wasn't coming up with any actual words besides 'what', so he was going to have to improvise.
"Sugarcube, I'm sorry, but-"
He heard her gasp out, and he closed his eyes.
It's weird that a hug had been his first instinct.
He nuzzled his face into the soft fur of Applejack's shoulder, and he felt the way she was shaking slightly. It was only a moment before he felt two hooves close themselves around his back, and a face make itself similarly comfortable.
He had only ever hugged Applejack once, and he wasn't even the one to initiate back then. He didn't think he had ever directly hugged anyone besides his parents before.
It was nice. She was warm, and soft. And he could feel her heartbeat in her chest, unsteady as it was.
He felt so... safe . Safe and secure in another pony's comforting grip. So warm, and so alive.
He shifted his face into her mane, and took a deep breath.
She smelled like apples, predictably. He was going to have to start buying more from now on, he supposed.
After all, what kind of a best friend didn't support another's business?
"You're mine too, Applejack. "
He felt her begin to shake harder in his hooves. He didn't know why, though.
It was obvious, really.
Author's Note
Hey so, fun fact!
I heavily debated making this a love thing, just to see how many people would get mad!
But I decided I didn't want to take the story in that direction, no matter how funny it would be.
It's been done to death and back, so best friends it is!
Maybe I'll write a separate one-shot about it or something?
~~isn't it funny that i said i was going to write less but i've been putting chapters out at pretty much the same pace~~
