Onryō: A Cursed Haunting In Equestria

by Razalon The Lizardman

Chapter 7

The mansion seemed even eerier now than it’d been earlier. Knowing now that there was a vengeful spirit lurking inside certainly helped to contribute to such a quality. Further still, knowing it attacked with a living shadow mass, and her only source of light being preoccupied with holding his wife’s corpse, left Moon Dancer's courage out to starve.

Moon Dancer hadn’t been hesitant about entering upon first arriving at the mansion with her friends. Now, however, she was finding it hard to muster the willpower just to take a few steps forward. The idea that maybe she could draw out Winter’s spirit right where she stood crossed her mind. It was an appealing belief, but a niggling little voice in the back of Moon Dancer’s mind told her it wouldn’t work. Such a convenience seemed too good to be possible.

Moon Dancer set down Swan Song’s corpse for a moment, using her freed horn to illuminate the foyer, particularly the ceiling in search of any more holes the shadow mass could come from. Seeing nothing, she felt a little courage boost in her, enough to get her moving.

She picked up Swan Song’s corpse and proceeded up the staircase. They creaked and groaned under her hooves, killing the permeating silence and providing Moon Dancer with a little, much needed comfort. The faint whistling of wind could be heard upstairs the farther up she got, probably from a shattered window. She even began stomping on each step an extra time before moving forward, just to create more comforting sound. Anything to create a livelier atmosphere and calm her sensitive nerves was welcome to her.

Moon Dancer reached the top of the staircase without any trouble. Up top was a hallway leading to more rooms on either side, while in front of her was an open door leading to what looked to be a conservatory, if all the decaying, wilted plants were anything to go by. Moon Dancer’s target was the room directly above the living room, so she turned left down the hallway, stopping in front of the first door on her left.

The door was closed, so Moon Dancer once again set down Swan Song to use her magic on the doorlock. To her horror, it was locked. She shined a light spell to find an old-fashioned keyhole, just like the one on the mansion’s front door, underneath the hoof press. Her initial panic gave way to realization when she remembered the key in Swan Song’s dress pocket. She retrieved it and inserted it into the doorlock. To her immense relief, it clicked open.

Moon Dancer put her hoof into the press, but stopped for a moment, lost in thought. What might she find on the other side? What drove Winter Vista to haunt this room in particular upon dying? Why did Swan Song lock it up, yet allow her son’s corpse to roam the mansion grounds completely free?

Moon Dancer shook her head, clearing away her barrage of needless questions. All that mattered right now was placating Winter’s spirit. She gently creaked open the door, its ancient hinges squeaking with a hundred years of zero maintenance. A small flickering light greeted her, growing as the door opened wider. Candlelight. She opened the door all the way.

The room looked like a bizarre combination of an office space and a sacrificial altar. Near to the door were a couple of mahogany desks littered with papers and toppled inkwells, while a filing cabinet rested against the left wall. Lit candles lined every wall, and Moon Dancer briefly wondered how in Equestria these candles could burn for a hundred years, before the possibility that Winter’s spirit kept them lit crossed her conscience. It made about as much sense as everything else she’d seen thus far.

What attracted the bulk of her attention, however, was the rectangular pedestal set near the far wall, surrounded by four more lit torches and a series of green runic symbols set into the floorboards in a circular formation. Clear evidence of Winter Vista’s alleged necromantic activities.

Immediately, the rancid smell of death assaulted her nostrils, making her eyes water. She took a moment to wipe them clean before closing up her nostrils and proceeding forward, Swan Song’s corpse floating behind her. She made her way around the desks and up to the altar, resting Swan Song on it with delicate precision.

“Winter!” she called, further illuminating the room with her horn. “Your wife is here!”

She waited for a few moments, but nothing happened. No moving shadows. No thumps or bumps. No flicker of white or anything to signify Winter’s presence.

It suddenly dawned on Moon Dancer that she had no idea how to properly communicate with spirits. And with that realization came a heightened sense of vulnerability. Never once had she read a single book on paranormal subjects, having dismissed the entire idea as foalish campfire story material. Still, she had a plan in mind, and she had no choice but to stick to it.

“Come on out, Winter!” Moon Dancer called again, more panicked. “There’s no reason for you to remain here. Think of what your wife would want.” She pointed to the corpse.

Still silence.

Moon Dancer began pacing back and forth, a comforting habit to kickstart her mental processes. She needed to approach this situation calmly and scientifically, or as much as she could hope to. Ghosts still had feelings, she knew, if Winter’s previous actions in response to his son’s ‘death’ were any indication. They could feel loss, rage, and vengeance, so it made sense that they could be reasoned with. She just needed to find the right method for Winter’s ghost.

Moon Dancer suddenly passed through a cold spot of air as she passed by the altar. She stopped, sparing a glance at the corpse. She thought she saw a tiny orb of light whiz past her.

She blinked. “What the…?”

Creak

Moon Dancer’s hair stood on end. That sound had come from the doorway.

She turned, and her breath immediately caught in her throat.

Standing in the doorway was Winter Vista’s spectral form. His entire body was a consistent pale white, while his mane and tail were a faded double hue of brown and yellow. His cutie mark was absent. Empty, black eye sockets stared back at Moon Dancer, filling her very being with pure, raw dread. The darkness all around his ghostly body bobbed and undulated in an eerie dance.

Moon Dancer’s entire body went stiff with shock, yet internally she was amazed. An actual ghost, right here in front of her. So much to be learned and studied, so many experiments one could conduct. Equestria’s understanding of reality itself could be flipped on its head with this one discovery.

But none of that meant anything right now.

Steeling her courage, Moon Dancer stood tall and rigid, trying to look as authoritative as possible despite the fear coursing through her veins. “Winter Vista?”

The apparition did and said nothing, merely continuing to stare at her, his stoic expression unchanging.

“You can’t stay here anymore,” Moon Dancer continued. “I’m sorry about your son, but he asked me to end the spell. Can’t you see he was miserable? How much pain he was in?”

Still no response.

“I’m… I’m sorry you lost him. And your wife.” She stepped aside so Winter could see Swan Song’s corpse. Still he displayed no emotion. “They’re probably waiting for you on the other side. So please… relax, I guess.” She capped off her plea with a warm, hopeful smile.

A long, agonizing silence stretched between them for what felt like forever to Moon Dancer. Winter Vista did and said nothing to indicate he’d heard her plea. All the while, the shadows continued their eerie, horrifyingly unnatural dance behind him.

It came like a ton of bricks. Moon Dancer doubled over as the very air in the room seemed to press down on her, intending to cement her into the floor. What she could only describe as hatred, in its rawest, most pure form bombarded her psyche, sending her into mental spirals alongside the physical one.

The air thrummed with power as Winter Vista finally took a step forward. Then another, falling into a slow walk towards Moon Dancer, the shadows moving along with him. He passed by the first desk, sending every paper upon it flying through the air, whereupon each one was instantly burned to ashes the second the shadows passed over them. This repeated with the second desk.

“Please… listen to… me,” Moon Dancer croaked. The magic in the air was so powerful it felt like a cart was pressing down on her head. “Move on… from this… world.”

Winter took no apparent interest in her plea. He continued moving closer to the altar, the shadows still swirling and churning all around him, ready to claim her as their newest victim. Now he was a mere five ponylengths from her; the shadows extended a little in front of him.

“Please… don’t…”

Three ponylengths; the shadows just one.

Moon Dancer shut her eyes. This was it. She was going to die here. She imagined everyone’s grief and sorrow back home after learning what happened to her and her friends. At least she was going out staring danger in the face rather than cowering in a corner somewhere. And it wouldn’t be long before she could see her friends again, in whatever kind of afterlife reality had created.

She took a deep, relaxing breath, and waited for the shadows to claim her. She turned her mind to thoughts of happy times spent with her friends. Better to go out happy than in a grip of terror.

But nothing happened.

No burning sensation. No searing pain of being roasted alive. Nothing.

Moon Dancer kept waiting, but as the seconds ticked by without her feeling anything, she eventually realized something was wrong. At least, wrong in the sense that something was stopping Winter from roasting her to the bone, which was good for her.

The heavy magic in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced with something different. Something… more comforting.

Moon Dancer cracked an eye open, only for both to shoot wide as her vision filled with pale white and a faded red and green pattern. She looked up, unbelieving of what she saw standing between her and Winter Vista’s spirit, who, for once, seemed to exude something other than hatred.

Surprise.

Between him and Moon Dancer was the spectral figure of an earth pony mare. She had the same soulless, black eyes and pale white body as Winter, but with a two-toned faded green and red mane and tail. Her cutie mark was also absent. No shadows swirled around her like they did with Winter.

Moon Dancer felt a strong sense of happiness exude from the mare. Like a warm blanket draping over her, all the hatred weighing down her psyche lifted, replaced by a comforting, motherly feeling the likes of which she hadn’t felt since leaving for Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She stood up, a large smile crossing her muzzle as she realized Swan Song's spirit was protecting her.

The two apparitions stared each other down for several seconds, exchanging not words, but feelings. Emotions, in their purest, base form without any verbal words to accompany them. Moon Dancer could feel the sensations traded by them touching her heart, allowing her to give context to their exchange.

Swan Song was disappointed in her husband for everything he’d done, but also sorry she failed to understand how serious his trauma was after Snowy committed suicide. Winter Vista was sorry for how he’d treated Snowy Pine which drove him to commit suicide, and subsequently kill his father upon being resurrected. He wanted more than anything for the three of them to come together again as a happy, loving family.

Swan Song’s spirit approached her husband and, in a display that managed to be sweet despite the fact that neither ghost shed their stoic expressions, gave him an affectionate nuzzle. Winter Vista returned the gesture, and the feeling of warmth Moon Dancer felt spiked in turn.

Gradually, the spirits faded from view, disappearing into thin air. The shadows accompanying Winter Vista quickly retreated back into the darkness of the mansion, leaving the room still and silent, save for the still flickering candles adorning the walls.

Moon Dancer stood still for a good, long while, letting her mind decompress from everything that had happened. She fell to her haunches upon returning to full consciousness, before falling on her back with her hooves splayed out. The events of the night were finally exerting their toll on her body.

“It’s… over.”

Her eyes slowly closed as exhaustion fully took over, and she drifted off to sleep.