//------------------------------// // Chapter 24 - The Reluctance // Story: The Stereotypical Necromancer // by JinxTJL //------------------------------// 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 mana 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 mana a unicorn used, the bigger their fount would get. Mana was intrinsically tied to a pony's fount. That special wellspring of mana that allowed Equine to shape the world around them. Everypony had one, though unicorns were the only ones known to actually actively 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 mana 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 mana and magical effects 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 Black 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 school of Black 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 Black 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.