//------------------------------//
// Past 
// Story: Mourning. 
// by Ssendam the Masked 
//------------------------------//

Celestia sighed. The Mourning wouldn't stop, no matter how much she asked. She could just force him to give up, but that wouldn't do much good- he was a stubborn person when he'd been alive, and he wasn't likely to give up when he was dead either. He'd always been a loner, never really engaging with anybody. Yet, for all his prowess and fame, he'd never really wanted much out of life except to be left alone. How ironic that he'd finally gotten his wish to be left alone, just when he was killed. 

The tale of how they'd met was an interesting one. One thousand and three years ago, he'd crashed into their world like a meteor. Some guards had found him stumbling about, talking in a mysterious dialect that only now did she understand was what Equestrian would evolve into. Back then, his peculiar speech had been the wonder of the court. Other things about him- like his peculiar black coat that he always wore, the white undershirt and black trousers, and the simple, hardworn white shoes he wore had also been a matter of intense debate over what materials they were made up of.

He'd introduced himself as John. Just John, he'd say, and chuckled a bit over that. It had always amused her slightly. It didn't when she'd discovered his powers. He'd first used them in secret, to find out about the history. John had been a medium- a technical grey art that no pony except those of the blackest hearts had the ability to master. With a simple word, John would talk to the undead on equal footing, requiring none of the complicated rituals that other mediums did. He would almost put them on an equal or higher level than his own, something that had never really occurred to other practitioners of the art.

Truth be told, John's power was incredibly useful. But when she'd seen him communing with the spirits of the dead as naturally as a living pony, she'd interrogated him. He'd always possessed the gift, she found, though it hadn't been as powerful back in his home world as it was in Equestria. He'd described his 'country,' to the court, and they'd found the idea laughable. A civilisation of apparent apes with no magic having somehow eclipsed the achievements of ponykind? Ridiculous. 

Then, Luna had turned to darkness, and Nightmare Moon had been born. John himself had witnessed her transformation, and she'd escaped in the general confusion. Over the next six months, Celestia's Solar Guard and Nightmare Moon's own corrupted forces clashed in brutal conflicts that often caused heavy amounts of collateral. John had fought with Celestia, and adopted the nickname 'the Mourning.' He was always the first one on the battlefield, and the last one to leave. 

The Solar Guard had nicknamed him 'the Mourning' because he was the one who buried the bodies. And because he often sympathised with the enemy side, having pity for Luna for being taken over. He cried over every single innocent who'd gotten caught up in the war, which made soldiers think that he wasn't of a strong character or spirit. And yet, on the battlefield he was a highly critical target, due to the nature of his magic. As soon as he encountered a dead soldier, he would interrogate that soldier about the entire battleplan. He would then use his other unique ability, absorbing the souls in order to gain their combat knowledge. As a result of that, he'd become proficient in a large variety of weapons, mostly using a sword or a dagger if he really needed to kill. Many victories had been won because of him, and many wise retreats from an aerial bombing had been enabled, all thanks to The Mourning. 

One day, he'd proposed a plan to her to end the war quicker. He would infiltrate the ranks of the Nightmare, and pretend to betray Celestia, when in fact he would be feeding her information on the Nightmare's attack strategy. It was a risky plan, but it succeeded. He reported on the Nightmare's strength weekly, as well as directing the Solar Guard to critical areas that the Nightmare's forces were going to attack. The Solar Guard didn't like his sneaky, underhanded methods, calling them 'the work of a coward.' One time, the then captain of the guard flat-out accused him of aiding the enemy. John had neither confirmed or denied the accusation, and steadily ignored the captain until the stallion was at the breaking point.

He'd challenged The Mourning to a duel. The Mourning had accepted, and in the fight he'd completely annihilated the captain. He'd whispered something to the Captain, got up, donned his clothing and stalked out. When she'd questioned him later, he'd just smiled bitterly and said, "A war is not something you fight for honour or glory. War is horrible, and something I don't like to take part in." 

Soon, the final battle had occurred, on the longest night of the year. Celestia and Nightmare Moon had clashed in the final battle, when The Mourning revealed his true strategy- to play this entire war so that both sides were far away from any settlements for the final clash. He'd played both sides like a fiddle, ordering a strike here, a defence there. And when a guard acted up, or suspected something, he would... deal with them.

She still remembered his reasons. "War is horrible. Don't bring untrained civilians into this." She remembered the spirits of the dead surrounding him, lending their aid as he stormed through both sides, annihilating both sides. In rage, the Nightmare had blasted a neat hole through his chest. Even as he lay dying, he still saw his killer, and spoke his final words. 
"I'll get my revenge, one way or another." 
The battle after that had devolved into chaos, and finally, Celestia managed to seal her sister away in the moon for a thousand years. She hadn't thought about John much after the first ten years. She'd grieved at his grave, the only pony who had done so. Ponykind considered him to be a twotongued snake, who was written out of all historical records except for a couple owned by bitter nobles, angry at the humiliations that John had put them through, denying them a war that would consume Equestria. 

And now, The Mourning was back, a revenge-driven poltergeist that had no barrier between him and his revenge. 

She quickly started writing a letter to Twilight, to warn her of the dangers of trying to stop The Mourning. Who knew what he would do if he was ever stopped in his revenge? He might break his one rule: not to harm an innocent.