The Haunting
Admiral Biscuit
I’d never seen a ghost cry, and I pray that I never do again. Windflower dropped her head down into her hooves and her whole body—what there was of it—shuddered as she wept.
There was nothing we could do to console her, either. She’d crossed over, and that was that.
Even so, neither of us was so heartless as to just leave her alone in her sorrow. We weren’t so shallow as to offer false hope where there was none, but we both knew that just being there for her would help. Her home wouldn’t be empty; she wouldn’t have to face her mortality alone, not this time.
I think she’d known all along, but she’d buried all the implications of her new form when she came back. Pretended that things were normal, found some way to justify new abilities and lost abilities and I couldn’t help but feel pity for her, now that she was forced to face the awful truth.
She cried for the better part of an hour, before she finally managed to get back to her hooves and shakily made her way over to her amaranth plant, sadly circling its pot. She wouldn’t move close enough to touch it, undoubtedly terrified of hurting it more, even though it was probably far too late for that to be a concern. Even to my dumb human knowledge, there was a difference between hibernating for the winter and having the life sucked out of it: seeing it in plain view, undistracted from Windflower’s distress, made it look even worse than I’d initially believed.
A year ago, I never would have imagined such a thing, but I knew it now for what it was—she’d drained the life out of the plant, stolen its life essence for herself.
Was that what was going wrong in the woods? Was that what Milfoil had felt? Something that she either couldn’t correctly identify, or something she was afraid to speak aloud?
It was a thing I didn’t know how to cope with. It was something that was in books and movies but not in real life, and the realization of it was more terrible than I wanted to consider.
She didn’t do it intentionally. That was a slender ray of hope, but even if it was unintentional, I wondered if there would be anything blooming in her grove this year, or if she’d sucked the life out of every plant there just to stay behind.
•••
We couldn’t just leave her plant like that. We had to try to save it, somehow. I didn’t know how, but I knew I’d do anything to make it happen.
Milfoil walked slowly up to the plant and touched her muzzle lightly against the stem, and Windflower watched hopefully, moving up alongside her.
I joined them by the plant and put my hand on Milfoil’s back. She glanced in my direction, and I nodded.
There was so much about pony magic I didn’t know, so much I didn’t understand. I didn’t know the method, but I’d seen the results, and I did my best to will my own strength into her. To reach out and join her song.
At first, there was nothing but the feel of her silken coat under my hand, and then I began to hear it, familiar and comfortable to me. Her ears perked, then Milfoil reached out and touched the plant ever so gently.
There was a slight change, a flattening almost, and I remembered back to her collapsing after the first time she’d fixed the plant. I didn’t want that to happen again, so I focused in on myself, on my feelings for her and for Windflower, and I tried to will that and my strength into her.
I could hear the song changing, and at first, that was all, but then I started to feel it. It was like standing on a beach and having the waves wash the sand out from under my toes, and then became a steady pull, almost like being caught up in a current.
And then behind that came the pain. Not physical, not exactly. And it wasn’t just psychological, either. It was something else, something I had no words for, something I had no experience of.
Nor was it bad. It was undeniable, and it was the price that I was paying, the price that Milfoil had paid alone the last time, because nothing comes without a cost but when it’s a thing worth doing, it’s worth everything.
It was a cost I would have paid tenfold if that was what it took to make things right.
•••
When I opened my eyes, the amaranth was whole again. Windflower had her hooves around the pot, her muzzle brushing lightly against the plant, briefly lost in happiness.
I felt like I’d run a marathon, fought a bear, run a hundred yard game-winning touchdown, and then gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel full of rocks.
Milfoil looked as strong as always. Stronger, even.
“I think I’m going to,” I said, and then fatigue hit me like a freight train and I collapsed to the floor.
“Steve?” Milfoil stuck her muzzle against my neck. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t remember how to form words, so I gave her a thumbs-up, which in hindsight was a completely meaningless gesture.
“Steve?” She leaned in and nuzzled my neck. She had little hairs on her muzzle, and they were tickly.
I’m fine. I just want to lie here on the floor.
She sat down and reached out for my hand. It felt natural to grip on to her hoof and squeeze it—it wouldn’t hurt her, it was a hoof.
Windflower finally noticed that I was laid out on the floor and came over to investigate. I’d never really paid attention to it before, but it was weird to see things through her. They weren't bent or refracted or anything like that, at least not that I could tell.
I also marveled at the fact that I was on the ground, probably helpless, and there was a ghost hovering over me. In any horror movie, that would have ended badly. But I wasn’t worried about that at all. In fact, when Windflower touched me I wasn’t worried at all, despite the chill of her ghostly hoof against my skin.
•••
There is darkness, and I am adrift.
I am at peace. I am drifting, afloat, aloft, beyond my physical self, and I do not know where I wander, but that doesn’t matter. I have become a part of the song.
I think that Windflower might have killed me. A plant isn’t a person, it isn’t a pony. No matter how alive it is, it isn’t alive enough. I understand this.
My family. They’ll be upset when they find out, and I hope that Milfoil tells them that it was for a good cause. They won’t understand. They don’t know what I know, they don’t understand what I understand.
I do.
A life for a life.
A fair trade.
•••
There is darkness. Not blackness, just darkness. My back is stiff, and most of me is cold. Not all of me—there’s a warmth against my right side, and in the hazy dreaminess I reach out towards it, not with my body but with my mind, needing to know it before I turn.
Milfoil has a forehoof across my chest, and her muzzle pressed up against my neck. She’s got little hairs on her muzzle and they tickle my neck.
My hand is clutched on her hoof, like a drowning man might clutch a life-ring. I relax my grip, even though I don’t need to. Her hoof is hard, unyielding.
I’m in the living room. I don’t spend a lot of time studying the ceilings in my house, memorizing their features, but I know where I am. I know who I am and what I am, and I squeeze her hoof lightly, and I don’t know if she can feel it but I know she feels it.
Her cheeks are moist from tears and I want to tell her that she shouldn’t cry. Everything is okay.
•••
Morning comes, as it always does. My back is stiff, and Milfoil is curled up against my right side. The sun turns her mane into a halo, and I marvel at it.
•••
We could talk, but we don’t.
She’s in the kitchen, making pancakes.
I’m off.
I don’t have the experience to understand how. It’s like I was on a slightly delay, or else the rest of the world was. Like a picture that’s out of focus, just slightly. Enough that the details can sort of be made out, but not really. Everything in the image isn’t as there as it pretends to be.
It wasn’t like being stoned or being drunk. Maybe there are other drugs which caused such an effect, but they were ones I’d never tried. Some part of my mind suggested that an acid trip might turn out this way.
But . . . I still understood the difference between reality and hallucination. And not in the sense that I thought I knew; this knowledge was fully realized.
•••
The inevitable scolding came after breakfast. After she’d washed the dishes and put them away. I insisted that she leave the soup pot for me, since it was my fault it had burned.
“You are such an idiot.”
“I know.” I wasn’t exactly sure how I was an idiot, but I knew she’d tell me.
“I’m an idiot, too.” She nuzzled my chest, and I responded by leaning down and kissing her ear. “I should have been more careful, worked more slowly. We don’t know how much—and you can’t focus at all. You’re like a minotaur charging through a shop.”
“And I could have given too much.”
“You did.” She smacked my leg with her tail. “You could have been laid out for days.”
I still would have done it. “We need to practice more.”
“Yes, but you need to rest before we do. It’s not good to work yourself so hard. You need to take foal steps until you know how to control yourself.”
Not much else I can say.
Uff da, he signed magic a blank check and let the working run with it! He is gorram lucky he isn't dead, if he'd pulled that stunt with anything larger than a seedling he would have been.
But I suppose congratulations are in order, he has done his first bit of deliberate magic.
Yes, that's one of Humanity's signature aspects, the ability to look at any situation and go "no, u".
So basically he taped into magic/life force and used way too much and damn near killed himself. But after some rest he will be fine again.
This was the music that I heard in my head when he opened himself up and helped Milfoil.
Hey, he's an Earth People. (Sorry, somebody had to say it)
9513567
I was imagining something more along these lines—
Don't use HP in place of MP you goofus. You'll either burn out your Spark or just straight up die.
Wow.
Yeah, like Venerable Ro said. Writing blank checks to magic when you're basically trying to resurrect something, even a plant, is a good way to wind up dead. You're lucky to still be here.
You need to be more careful. You've got responsibilities now. Like a little filly who will be really sad you were hurt healing her plant.
On the other hand, you did it! You helped Milfoil do the magic, in a really important way. And you realized that what helps most is love, in it's various forms. Now you just need to learn some control.
And the poor little ghost girl. Now we have to see what will happen next, once she gets over the initial shock.
Wait I just realized... I'm really hoping I misunderstood. Windflower didn't move on herself to stop him from dying did she? Really hope I was wrong when I realized you could interpret it that way.
For healing life drain...I'm reminded of The Dresden Files, where using Soulfire literally burns up your soul to strengthen your magic and especially creation. Which seems awful, especially for an Angelic power. But it's not: your soul is a RENEWABLE resource. Doing things that are figuratively good for the soul, positive and life affirming and harmonious, turn out to also be literally good for the soul as well.
Well, he did it.
Question now is, how many lossy conversions are needed to sustain this?
Keep going! ;)
9513810
There is a few games where those are basically the same. It can make for interesting choices and situations.
Someones conversion ratio is absolutely atrocious.
Then again, the first LED had an efficincy in the millipercent?
Ouch! Right into the feels.
Steve you might be a druid now, also you made Milfoil cry you jerk.
Grats on learning how to be a mana battery, Steve! You might be humanity's first.
I have an endless wellspring within me...
After fiddling with my 1960's-era chemistry set, I accidentally turned myself into a Philosopher's Stone.
The old chemistry sets were awesome. Kids could play with radium and uranium dust, strip old batteries and toy with the acids and alkalies, manufacture black powder, dabble with cyanide, and make crystals of delicious lead acetate (who needs neurons when ya gots computers nowadays, amirite?), and every now and then accidentally immortality!
These days, it's just changing colors and making fizz. Boooooring. What's a chemistry set without the potential to end all life for a 50-mile radius, I ask you!
9514581
Hear ye, hear ye
The User by the name of Alondro has proclaimed his madness. And in doing so, he has embraced the Spark, which marks the line between the mad scientist, and the Mad Scientist
'Tis a joyous occasion!
Huh.
Why do I get the impression that, were he a different species, our Mr Steve would have just gained a cutie mark?
So...Windflower sucks the life out of things to keep herself anchored in the real world and not pass on?
Or am I reading this wrong?
9513586
Earth (Earth Ponies)
Fire (Twilight when she's really, really angry)
Wind (Pegasii)
Water (Seaponies)
Heart (Cadence)
Captain Planet obviously didn't think much of unicorns.
And then in the next chapter--What's his name? Bob?--Bob looks in the mirror: "Uh, Milfoil, do I look translucent to you?"
9515657
Fire is Kirin isn't it? Or dragons of course, no need to be racist...
9514641 Have some glowing green ooze to celebrate!
9516187
vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/mlp/images/c/cc/The_Smooze_smiling_peacefully_S5E7.png/revision/latest?cb=20150518211841
WHO SUMMONED ME?!!
Silly druid. Good thing his animal companion was there for him.
Also, that was a fantastically written near-death experience. Excellent representation of straddling the border.
9515471
Hey, he hasn't taken his pants off since the incident. We can't completely rule that out.
9516240 I was thinking more along the lines of TMNT mutagen.
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vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/tmnt/images/8/84/Mutagen6.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/185?cb=20140419152238
Oh, yeah, this stuff
*slurp*
Mmm, delicious
9514581
9514641
I wonder if I should be more worried that I find myself nodding along with Alondro's posts in understanding more and more, and mostly because I did the same stuff myself.
9517884 YOU ARE NOW ADDICTED TO THE DRUG THAT IS ALONDRO!! (runs onto Oprah's show and jumps up and down on her couch, then runs back out, leaving everyone in stunned disbelief)
Also, you're an immortal Philosopher's Stone too? Say, do ever get the cravings for souls?
9518126
I've had those, but not because of being a philosopher's stone. I have a few dozen, or so, but I'm fairly certain there's no connection there.
9517884
Welcome to the Crazy Train.
Here's your flugelthorn, the Laboratory is over there, just behind the engine, and the overnight rooms are just ahead of the Lab.
Enjoy your stay!
I really have only one thing to say to you after this chapter. "Dawwwww."
9518126
Cravings for soul food, yes. Philosopher's Stone, no...not exactly.
Just need to finish this phylactery up any day now, I mean if you're going to store a soul/mind why not use a computer and a distributed network with copies. After all any sufficiently advanced science....
9518148
Thank you, thank you.
I actually already have a lab...bunch of crazy people locked me in one and tortured me for a few years and then gave me some extra letters for my name. Weirdest thing.
9519651 *Alondro munches on a soul, like it's a potato chip... only it's a metaphysical potato chip. Needs salt.* Storing souls in the what now?
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9513537
Yes, exactly this.
Even if it almost killed him.
Subtlety, no. Just tossing everything into the ring and seeing what happens, yes. That’s the human way.
9513540
Basically, yes.
In a nutshell, he said, ‘hey, this is what I’ve got, and it’s all yours,’ and then the magic did what it does, and he’s lucky he’s not a ghost now, too.
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9513586
Earth people don’t know how pony people do what they do, but they do. They do.
9513644
Yes, that’s more to the point. Maybe less subtle, but the end result is the same, isn’t it?
9513810
“I cast Magic Missile”
“At what?”
“The darkness.”
For all of those who spit into the wind . . . Steve, holding his arms wide and telling Magic ‘come at me, bro.’
9513876
Yes.
Also yes.
Control is good. Control is what he needs.
But.
He did the thing, regardless of the cost, and that’s a potential sacrifice that’s worth more than he might think.
Of all the tribes, the earth ponies are most attuned to that which is, and I think that Winflower is.
No, not exactly. It’s hard to be exactly specific, but she now knows and Steve pushed, and the wheel spins. Nothing has changed in an outwards sense, but of course everything has changed from the moment she touched her amaranth and it wilted.
I wish I could remember the name of it, but there was a movie that really made that point. The hero made a sacrifice and it wasn’t what he thought, but in effect it was, because he thought it was, and that was what mattered.
9513918
He did.
That’s a vital question . . . that’s always a vital question.
9513930
Magic and life force are in some ways interchangeable, if one so desires. The cost might be terrible, but sometimes that doesn’t matter.
9521295
Hold my beer, I got this.
It's not a meme, it's a way of life for most humans.
9514064
Give Steve a break; it’s his first day on the job.
I would imagine it wasn’t that great. Weren’t they trying to make whole rocks glow by putting in current back then?
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9514201
He basically is a druid, honestly.
Also, yes, he did make Milfoil cry, but that wasn’t intentional.
9514370
Or the first that knows what he’s doing going into it. Somehow I’m now thinking of human tourists in Canterlot that are always tired, and yet the unicorns around them are always bright and chipper . . .
9514581
You want one of those radioactive ones from the fifties, don’t you? Lacking ingredients in the kits just encourage kids to experiment, IMHO. Move outside the box. Get that Americium out of the smoke detectors and put it to work for you!
9515471
Yeah, I’d say that he certainly did what was required to gain one.