Later that cool night, Inverno propped his forelegs on the railings of a balcony. Silently looking upward at the tiny lights of the evening sky that flicker ever so slightly, contemplating over his first day of school. In truth, the colt had plenty on his mind for hours now. Even if it weren’t for the cries of the baby that his parents were taking care of were keeping him up, he was still too troubled to try to go back to bed.
“I take it you can’t sleep either?” Inverno nearly jumped at the unexpected voice of Shining Armor. “Woah, easy there, sorry for sneaking up on you like that.” He said with a yawn. “I just came by to check up on ya. Are you doing okay?”
“Uh… yeah, I think so…”
Shining raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m a little tired, but something tells me that something must be bothering you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re awake past three-thirty in the morning looking up at the sky – that, and you trailed off there. So I take that something is eating away at you?” He sat on his haunches next to his adopted son. “You know that you can tell me or Cadance anything, right Inverno?”
With a sigh, he said, “Dad, is being too different a bad thing?”
Shining tilted his head. “In what way?”
“Well… Putting aside that I was… you-know-who’s son, that the Empire once saw me as a monster because of that, and that I can see music… there’s much about me that’s making me realize that I’m not exactly a normal colt.”
“I think I might have a guess,” Shining rubbed his head, “does it have to do with trying to send you to school?”
There was a pause before Inverno said, “I don’t think I want to go back anymore.”
His father’s ears perked straight up. “Is somepony bullying you?”
“What?” Inverno looked up in confusion.
“Has someone beating you up? Calling you names? Giving you insults for no good reason?”
“No, no…” He shook his head. “It’s actually the opposite. The school you and Mom are having me go to… it’s so… boring.”
“So?”
“I mean… let’s put aside my teachers are giving lessons that I don’t see as useful, but the students there… they are incredibly dull. Every one of them! I know how you and Mom told me that if I go to school, I would interact with them so they can be friends with me. But when I tried... I couldn't find one to make a connection with. Even if they were interested in music, they have either poor taste or have no clue about anything that isn't modern. None of them knows how to play an instrument, or have an imagination when it comes to creating music. And even what they think is great music is all the same! They’re all bores. Bore, bore, bore! Every single pony in that school from the students to the headmare is so boring that I’m close to screaming!” He finished his rant by burying his face in his hooves to give a frustrated moan.
“There, there,” Shining patted his shoulder, “I’m certain that isn’t true.”
“Oh really?” Inverno said sarcastically. “Name me one piece of Classical music that isn’t Beethooven’s Fifth.” Silence. “I rest my case.”
“C’mon Inverno, there’s so much more to life than just Classical music.”
“But it’s what I’m good at dad. I got my cutie mark because of it! Yet, how many at the school has any idea of the complexities of composition, or the effort of performing it? Should I tell you, dad? None! How can I do what you and Mom asked me to ‘make some friends’ when it’s impossible for me to find anypony there that I could relate to?”
“Inverno,” Shining said as he lifted his foreleg, “come here.” His adopted son sighed as he leaned his head on his withers, embracing him in a hug. “It’s not that I don’t get what it’s like to going out of your comfort zone to meet other ponies. Trust me, I’ve been there. When I was your age, it was hard for me to find anypony who would like me, much less have a conversation with. I know this will sound crazy, but there are ponies out there that would make great friends in ways that you may not expect. Sure, they might not have the exact same interests as you do, but it does help give you a new point of view. I mean the connections you do make, when done properly, could last a lifetime. The trick, of course, is to find those that you can connect with on some level. All it takes is patience, and the willingness to be open to others.”
“Easier said than done,” Inverno murmured.
“Look,” his father sighed, “it’s really late, and you should get some sleep. We can talk about this when there’s daylight. But for now, we really need to go to bed. Okay?”
After Shining managed to get his son back to bed and returning to his own, Inverno still couldn’t sleep as rebellious thoughts came to his head.
‘He knows that he’s asking the impossible, right?’ His mind questions. ‘Having me make friends is like asking a blind pony to read out one of those eye charts. If he really knew what I have to put up with, he’ll know how lonely it is to be surrounded by those that you have nothing in common. If he’s being honest, how many of them had a parent who was a lying tyrant? Or adopted? Or could see music as it’s being played? Learning how to write music before writing your own name?’
Inverno tossed and turned in his bed as his thoughts of frustration give way for longing.
‘On the other hoof… I wish there were friends that I could at least talk to. I wish I had somepony like Professor Key. Sure, he may be old, but at least everything he taught and did was interesting and I’ve learned a lot. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have known of the other composers out there like Buch, or Moztrot, Beethooven, or even Horseshoepin. Just getting my hooves on their music alone, and being able to play them, I don’t feel so lonely. Why can’t they still be around so they could be my…’
The colt sat straight up. A thought came to him like a whispering muse in his ear. Twilight did give him those books to study magic from before she left, Professor Key did leave behind a list of recommendations of some influential composers, and his biological father (if the rumors were true) has a library in which housed some magic that he was experimenting with.
“Yes…” He asked himself softly. “Why not?”
The first step of his plan was to study. He took Twilight’s book to basic magic to heart as he poured and practiced over spells that served as a foundation for any unicorn like himself. Sure, it may have distracted him from his usual pastime of composition and improvising on a keyboard for weeks, but to his mind, it was worth it.
Next was to locate the hidden library of his biological father. Although he has seen the dungeons and even the bedroom which he once occupied in, he was never shown his private study. If anything, he came across it by spying on Cadence and Twilight opening up a secret entrance underneath the throne room by using dark magic. That very night, he had to sneak past the guards in which he spent hours of trial and error to figure out how to unlock it. But once he was able to get angry for repeatedly failing did the descending spiral staircase opened up.
When he got to the very bottom, he found a lone door in which he found was unlocked. At first, he was curious what the big deal was with the rumors of this infamous door, but that was put aside as he entered into Sombra’s study. There he found books upon books that the colt spent a long time scanning and searching for anything useful to his goal.
At last, one page caught his attention.
Mental Resurrection Ritual
After several months of experimentation, I think I have found a way to possibly bring anyone back from the dead. While the following ritual may not bring the physical body of the one who died, it may bring back the very minds of those who passed away, even centuries ago!
The following instructions are how to do that very thing.
First: A sample of a living creature is needed. This could be anything from a strand of hair, a drop of saliva, a body part, or whatever essence of them. Preferably said sample must be from one who is healthy and young. For the best results, the sample must be touched as little as possible.
Second: After choosing the individual you want to resurrect, you must go and collect as much of whatever they have created as possible. Copies of the originals work just as well, but they must be something that the individual has made. Be it a piece of artwork like a statue, a painting, or drawing. Or things they themselves have written such as diaries, poems, letters, sheet music, books, etc… The most important part is to gather as many of whatever they have left behind as possible. The more surviving of their creations there are, the greater the chance that the mind of the one getting resurrected would make them complete.
Inverno read the final step of the ritual itself, finding that he would have to combine a few spells from Twilight’s lesson book, it was do-able. Almost easy if anything. The most difficult part was the preparation of the ritual. However, at the very bottom of the page, he found a warning.
However, it should be observed that the result of this ritual, if successful, may have side effects on the ones who come back from the dead. Not only is confusion expected, but depending on the user who carries out the ritual, the ones who do get resurrected might have a variation of one or more traits from the one who casts it. This doesn’t mean giving them an exact copy of one’s special traits/talents to the resurrected, but rather might receive a different variation of it. The end result may vary and have been proven to be dangerous. If that being the case, there is also a ritual to undo it on the opposite page.
“It might be risky,” Inverno said as he decided to tear the page out from the book. “But at least it would mean that I would have friends. And if worse comes to worst, I could always reverse it.”
As Inverno quickly found out, it was surprisingly easy getting the “physical samples” than it was to gather together the documents of his intended friends. All he had to do was to go out into the Empire on a Saturday, to mingle in with the tourist crowd to pluck a hair or feather of those that best fit the requirements. Although Inverno did want to try to get the resemblance as close as possible, even if some of them were of different species, he managed to find what he needed in one visit.
As for the documents… It wasn’t that he couldn’t get the information about the ones he wanted to resurrect, but rather that there were too many to choose from. Almost several dozens of composers that he would love to be friends with, yet from what he read of their short biographies, they were either aren’t interesting enough or didn’t have much of an impact on music. So, he decided to narrow his list down to just twelve. He wanted a ground that was large but not to the point where it was too overwhelming.
All that remained was the place to carry out the ritual. He knew that it probably wasn’t a good idea to carry it out at home. After all, as far as he knew, doing this wasn’t often done and could result in him getting into a huge amount of trouble.
‘It’s gotta be someplace that I or the ritual wouldn't be disturbed.’ Inverno thought. ‘After all, Papa’s ritual says that it takes several hours to complete on its own. So it must be a place that’s outside of the palace, but isolated enough that not a lot of ponies go to. But where…?’
The answer came in the form of the mode of transport that the tourists come and go. With the addition of the railroad to the Empire, there was the necessity to have a rail yard to keep empty cars that wait for weeks on end. What's more, it's a place that's almost abandoned at night. Inverno knew that if there were any place to carry out his experimental resurrection, it would be there.
So on a calm night, when everypony was asleep, Inverno waited until three in the morning to spring his plan into action. He gathered the physical samples, the large bundles of documents, and the other items needed as he snuck his way down the halls, past the sleeping guards, through the streets, and towards the lines of empty boxcars.
Inverno chose twelve empty cars in the yard in which within each, he places a small metal bowl, a physical sample, all the copies of books, journals, letters, sheet music, and the occasional drawings of a certain composer, drew a circle with some symbols before concentrating his magic to lit the paper on a very slow-burning fire. Once this was done, he closed it up and moved on to the next one.
It surprised Inverno how quickly he was able to start the ritual for each car, by the time he finished, he found that he spent about half-an-hour.
“I really hope this works,” Inverno said to himself, trotting out of the rail yard. He then adds with a smile, “But on the upside, if this does work, then I will finally have some real friends! This is so exciting that I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight!”
Indeed, that exactly what happened. Even as Inverno got back into his room, his mind was galloping at full speed of all the possibilities that he would have with his newly created friends. Of all the things they might teach him. Of the fact that he’s going to meet some of history’s finest composers who ever lived. Of solving once and for all his problems with obtaining friendship.
That morning immediately right after breakfast, he could barely contain himself as he glided out through the crystal streets and around the Crystal Ponies. He almost galloped his way to the rail yards to see the result of what his dream would be coming true. However, as he reached those tracks, his heartfelt had suddenly stopped.
All the cars from the previous night were gone.
“No!” Inverno screamed in panic as he frantically went to the remaining cars. “Nononono, where are they!? Where did they go!?” But even as he searched and opened a few cars that weren’t locked, he found no remaining evidence of his ritual from the night before. To his growing horror, he realized what had happened.
All twelve of his resurrected composers have been moved out of the Crystal Empire.
Inside a dimly lit boxcar next to a smoldering metal bowl, a stallion slowly regained his senses. He was aware that he was moving but couldn’t recall as to why or how. His ears picked up a repetitive clacking sound of metal that was increasingly slowing down. Not to mention that he felt quite uncomfortably stiff as he was lying on something hard. Opening his eyes, the Pegasus glanced around this way and that of the barren, wooden box he was in. The only source of light came streaming in through the cracks between the planks of wood.
Stiffly, the stallion got up but found himself falling over as the box moving with a jerky motion. Yet, that didn’t discourage him from peering out between the planks. His eyes went wide as he saw towers of brick, glass, and metal in the distance. At first, he couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at. This place was absolutely nothing like the simple towns that he had been to. Something about what he was looking at seemed rather… advanced somehow.
Then, his eyes caught a glance at a sign as the box he was in slow down.
Welcome to Vanhoover.
But when the box he was in stopped, ponies in strange, bright orange jackets moved about. Some opened up boxes much like he was in to unload goods. When one of them got to his car to open up, they yelled out: “Hey! What are you doing in here?”
“Uh… what?”
“You think you could just earn a free ride ya, tramp!”
“What?”
The one who was yelling at him, a scruffy looking unicorn, lit up his horn to pull him out by the ear. “You’d better come with me.”
“Ow! Let go!” the Pegasus tried to fly away but the pull on his ears only made it worse. “Where are you taking me?”
“Security, where else?” The unicorn rolled his eyes. “You do know that this is pretty much illegal, right? Hitching a ride on a train without paying. How did you get on that train anyway?”
“I don’t know! I just woke up and I don’t know where I am.”
The unicorn stopped to look at him. “Are you being serious with me?”
“It’s the truth! I don’t know what is going on. Or how I got here for that matter.”
“Huh…” His aggressor blinked. “Who are you anyway?”
“Johann.” He answered. “My name is Johann Buch. Can you please tell me how I got here?”