//------------------------------// // Eureka! // Story: My Name is Eris // by megabyte97 //------------------------------// It is a strange experience, making my way down the mountain. The spirit foal jumped out of me at one point and is now flying around trying to look at everything at once. It acts like it has never been outside before, seeing how it stares at every snow covered bush and tree we pass in fascination. I am glad the foal is out of my head, seeing as it could hear my thoughts, and… Well, I’m not entirely sure what to do with the spirit. I like having a companion, but I only have a little bit of experience when it comes to spirits. There is also the fact that I don’t know nearly enough about this world to actually do much, and the fact I can feel something watching me, and- I pause as my thoughts come to a surprising conclusion, ‘By the gods, I’m having an anxiety attack…’ The realization is surprisingly sobering as I close my eyes and take several deep breaths, the familiar action bleeding the tension out of me slowly, as I tackle my thoughts one by one. ‘Alright, first off: the foal. It’s a spirit so it shouldn’t need food or water which is a major plus. It has a childlike curiosity so it shouldn’t be that hard to keep it happy, or distracted. Does the spirit need to be kept safe? Uhhh… I don’t know, so… I’ll keep an eye on it I guess. ‘Second, my stalker, who I haven’t seen yet and who hasn’t made a move against me yet… I could try to get the drop on whatever it is, but I would be relying on instincts to see me through the confrontation… Yeah no, I don’t like those odds at all. I would have the advantage of the first strike if I could sneak up on it, but again, unknown enemy for all I know its skin could be toxic to touch. ‘Third… I need to figure out how to use my magic. I can fly, but that is more instinctive magic than anything. While using instinctive magic might be a step up from not knowing how to use any magic at all, it is not a step in the correct direction… or is it?’ I blink open my eyes and stare up at the cloudy sky overhead as I think about the magic I have used so far in this world. ‘When I first arrived in this world I couldn’t use magic, I could feel it while I was that first chimera but it wouldn’t respond to me until I got annoyed and that was only for a moment. While I was the winged unicorn I could still feel my magic, in fact I could feel passive magic flowing through my body then, although I don’t know what it was doing. I can fly in this form, even more passive magic, but then there was what I woke up to after getting angry. That scene was undoubtedly active magic at work unless of course I have somehow acquired the ability to passively warp reality around me, which I highly doubt, considering it isn’t happening now. Next, the mountain, how in tartarus did I get up here? I didn’t feel any active magic, although I wasn’t exactly paying all that much attention at the time. Something could be messing with my head… Actually now that I think about it I would be more surprised if something wasn’t messing with my head. I seem to change species when I sleep, and different species have different instincts…’ I sigh, shaking my head and continuing my trek down the mountain. The foal is staring at another tree, and with my stalker still following me from the shadows I decide to experiment. Opening my right wing to its fullest extent I try to trace the passive magic flowing through it. The magic flowing from the base of my wing to the tip of my feathers is… complex, not to mention completely illogical. The veins and bones in the appendage, or at least what I believe to be veins and bones, hold the most magic flowing through them in a very structured circuit going from the base of my wing to the tip before returning, this is logical. What isn’t logical is the little strands of magic coming out of the bones and veins. The strands of magic don’t seem to be a part of the circuit but they are connected. Tracing the strands of magic leave me even more confused as… Well… they don’t make sense. Every single strand seems to be creating its own magic not drawing from the bones and veins. Multiple strands are connected to each feather in my wing, but not in a way that would suggest that the feathers are the source of the strands. In fact the strands of magic seem to resemble plant roots more than anything, or perhaps a spider web without a pattern. I frown and fold my wing against my side and try to trace the magic in my torso. The magic is flowing much faster, but the strands of magic are there too. I come to a complete stop a moment later my mind jumping from thought to thought. I instinctively know these strands are important, they might even be the key to my magic. No, there is no, ‘might’ they are the key! I know it! ‘But how?’ I ask myself, glaring at a raised talon with an intensity that would make even Zeus shake with fear. I try moving the magic to the talon I am glaring at and it works. The strands of magic lining my right black talon swell, but stop at the exact same point as before. I attempt multiple different ways to make the strands react. Forcing more magic into the strands does not work, connecting the strands does nothing. Clenching my talon into a fist I am about to try crossing the strands when an odd thought occurs to me. ‘If immortal techniques don’t succeed, then what about mortal techniques?’ I open my talon and look at the black digits. The human race used both science and magic before they were erased, most often using heat to release energy or magic, the most common method they used to create the heat being friction. It is a long shot, but I focus the strands of magic into my middle and back claw. Bringing the two digits together I apply pressure and slide them past one another. *Snap* I can’t help the grin I feel on my face, looking down at the tiny green flame in the palm of my talon. The burning orb sputters out after several seconds, but it is a victory nonetheless. I continue my trek down the mountain, the grin never leaving my face, and when night falls and I stare up at the starry night sky beside the foal, I can’t help but think that things are beginning to look up.