Chapter 25 - The Voice
Light Flow couldn't see.
The cellar was, as predicted, very dark. No big surprise there.
One door, no windows, no lights; it would honestly be more shocking if there was light down there.
From where he stood halfway down the steps, Light squinted as he peered into the enveloping blanket of void. There obviously wasn't much to see in its current state, though there wouldn't be anything particularly exciting to look at once it was lit up, either.
The faint wisps of daylight leaking in from the open cellar door were barely enough to illuminate the small stairway, casting short glowing beams that died on the surface of an object resting on the bottom step. A necessary tool that had been left to him with the house.
Kind of the mayor to do so, but it wasn't as if he couldn't have gone out to buy a lantern himself.
There were so many things about his house that just seemed loaded. The lantern for his cellar, the single towel left in his bathroom, even the complimentary appliances. The mayor had never mentioned any of it, but he always had a feeling that she was waiting for some kind of thanks.
Just a certain little tension between the two of them. A little nagging presence hanging in the background of every one of their conversations. An unspoken agreement that one of them owed the other an extreme debt.
He did his best to avoid the town hall.
He clicked his teeth together gently as he blinked at the abyssal space in front of him. Nothing was really happening as he stood there on his stairs, and it wasn't as if he was waiting for something; but he just had a vague sense that something could happen.
If he just kept staring into the dark.
....
No... He shouldn't.... He was just stalling again, that was it. Trying to put off the inevitable, like always.
He shook his head, and turned his eyes to the lantern on the bottom step. He took a small amount of focus away from holding the box and the key behind him, and extended that awareness to the lantern. A small red light flickered into life around the resting handle, and it ascended gently into the air.
He took hold of the knob and turned it slightly, watching as the wick inside raised a little. He knew having an oil-burning lamp was old-fashioned, but he didn't really care. This was the lantern that was left to him, so this was the lantern he was going to use. It was just that simple.
And maybe he just enjoyed the thought of it. It made him feel more refined, and authentic.
'Did you hear? That pony uses an oil-burning lantern! He must be so....'
'So.... Uh.....'
Okay, maybe he didn't really know what purpose there was in being stuck in the past.
He let out a small sigh as his fantasy fell apart. If he ever found the time to go into town, he would grab a lattice lantern. The extra lamp oil costs were an expense he should have cut out a long time ago anyway.
His hooded eyes searched the ground as he brooded on the future loss of his old world charm. He didn't know why he enjoyed that particular thought so much anyway. There had been a period in his life where he was very interested in history, but those times were long past now.
Memories of nights spent reconciling various historical inaccuracies in his own private journal flashed through his head, and he closed his eyes for a moment to indulge in the bittersweet taste of forgotten passions.
He had given brief thought to working as a scholar for a while, but it hadn't lasted. There were more important futures ahead of him. He had known even then, history just wasn't his special talent.
Necromancy was.
He took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. Reminiscing was fine, but he let himself slip into that particular daze far too often. He had no lack of focus, but the subject of his thoughts was something that constantly wavered.
Like now. He had completely sidetracked from his current goal of finding the matches. It really didn't need to take so long, because the matches should have been right where-
The matches weren't on the step with the lantern.
He slowly closed his eyes, and gently raised a hoof to his head. If it wouldn't subtract more precious time from his dwindling supply, he would have taken the opportunity to bash his head against the wall.
Also, it would have hurt.
The matches weren't on the step with the lantern like they should have been. There was only one place they could be if they weren't there, or with him; and since he obviously wasn't holding them, that left one option.
They were on the desk.
In the cellar.
On the opposite wall.
In the dark.
He groaned loudly as he dragged his hoof down, the sound reverberating and amplifying on the stone walls before clocking him in the face with greatly increased volume.
He was such an idiot. He must have forgotten to take the matches with the lantern the last time he was down here. He couldn't actually remember when he was down here last, but it didn't really matter. The problem was evident, and highly annoying.
Now he was going to have to grasp blindly around in the dark like a fool until he found his desk.
He grumbled out loud as he set the box and the key at the bottom of the stairs, before making his way down alongside them. It wasn't as if he was afraid of the dark, far from it. He just didn't enjoy the loss of one of his senses.
Nopony wanted to walk around blind, not even villains.
He regarded the complete void in front of him with disdain, before closing his eyes. He wasn't going to be able to see, so there was really no point in ogling thin air. Walking around with his eyes wide open would just make him feel even more like a blind pony.
He took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
There. He was officially in the darkness. There wasn't any reason for that to be as grand of an accomplishment as it felt like, but he had done it regardless. He had taken a step. Hooray. Maybe Mayor Mare would award him a medal.
His shoulders sagged as he sighed. The more time he spent around himself, the more problems became evident.
He made his way forward through the darkness as he counted his steps. The cellar wasn't huge, but it wasn't that small either, so the opposite wall was around fifteen hoof-lengths away from the entrance, which meant that the desk was thirteen or so hoof-lengths from the entrance, which meant-
He sucked in a pained breath as his hoof made swift contact with what felt like wood. He shook it slightly in the air as he ground his teeth together.
He had found the desk. That was the important part. There was no need to entertain thoughts of using the matches to set it on fire. That would be counterintuitive, and dumb.
But it would be so cathartic.
His face crinkled in aggravation as he discarded the thought. The barbaric thought of burning any of his furniture was both silly and surprising. His anger issues had mostly dissipated in the time since his formative years, but he had recently found himself enraged by the smallest things.
He had mostly kept it from interfering in his personal life, but he had once woken up amidst the carcass of a shredded book about astrology. He couldn't remember getting angry, or even passing out, but it was hard to deny the realities he sometimes found himself in.
The reasons to see a doctor kept piling up, as did his reluctance to go.
He put the thought aside for the moment as he set his hoof back on the floor. He opened his eyes, and tried to scan the darkness in front of him; hoping in vain to see the faintest visible outline of anything.
It was futile. The darkness was all-enveloping, and completely denied his attempts to pierce its veil. He huffed in irritation as his head lowered closer to what he hoped was the surface of his desk. It was hopeless, he couldn't see anything. He was just going to have to rely on a unicorn's natural light source.
His horn lit as he drew mana from his fount, pushing it though his natural focus in small amounts, before letting the mana diffuse harmlessly into the air in the form of tiny showering sparks.
It wasn't completely ineffective, though the puny amount of light did little more than act as an excellent contrast for the pervading emptiness in the room.
A small light, burning bright against a tremendous force of its antithesis. A dance as old as time, yet forever unchanged from its outcome.
Every light will one day burn out, but the shadows never die.
It's a good thing he was in front of a writing desk, that poem was especially good.
His head dipped closer to the desk as his eyes desperately searched through the pitch for the barest sight of his sought-after goal. If he could just catch the slightest glimpse, the merest taste of the small box, he would have all the light he needed.
His eyes strained though the tangible surface of the dark, before collapsing on the visage of a brightly branded container sitting on a wooden surface.
He felt his face rise in victory, before it stopped halfway.
It looked like the box was open, which was odd by itself. He always made sure to close things when he was done with them, otherwise it felt like leaving something done halfway. The very thought of that made his fur itch.
And it also looked like there was a match sitting on top of the box. It looked burnt at one end, like it was used.
Was that smoke coming off of it?
Light Flow...
His ears perked as something tickled the edge of his senses. Had he just heard something? From the far corner of the room?
.....
.....
No... No it was nothing...
He was just hearing things, that's all. He was just a little jumpy from his earlier thoughts about Her Royal Highness. That had to be it, because the alternative would be completely insane.
His body relaxed as his temporary fear abated. He was being silly. Nothing could have gotten in, the chain wasn't broken and the key wasn't missing. He was just making himself crazy, like usual. Half of his problems were probably just from stress, that's what a doctor would tell him.
All he needed to do was relax. Everything was fine, and so was he.
Light Flow...
His eyes widened as a faint voice tugged at the corner of his ear. It was hollow, and it echoed around the recesses of his mind; bouncing from corner to corner like hasty words spoken to an empty room.
Okay, so maybe he wasn't crazy, or maybe he was? It depended on whether he was actually hearing a voice. If he was, then he had to be hallucinating again, that was the only explanation. It was impossible for anything to have slipped into a locked room with one entrance, there was just no way.
If he wasn't, then he was crazy anyway because the wind was starting to sound like voices.
There wasn't anything in the room with him. He was just having another of his episodes, and it would stop eventually. If he just waited it out, the voice would go away, and he could get on with opening the box that should have been open three hours ago.
"Light Flow... Don't turn around..."
He swallowed heavily as his ear flicked repeatedly. The voice or whatever it was had sounded like it was coming from the corner of the room before, but now it sounded far closer. Like it was just a few hoof-lengths away.
He wasn't scared. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and he had learned a long time ago that his mind couldn't hurt him. Even if inky tentacles clawed their way from the shadows around him and tore him to pieces, he wouldn't feel anything.
The voice had told him not to turn around, and he was going to listen. He was fine. He was mentally stable, and he was fine. There was nothing in the room with him, and he was fine.
Fine. He was fine, everything was fine. The voice was fine, and it couldn't hurt him.
"Light Flow... The night is coming, Light Flow...."
It was in his ear. It sounded like something was whispering directly into his ear.
Was that breath? Was there something breathing on his ear?
Something was touching his shoulder. He could feel pressure on the upper part of his withers, as if there was a hoof laying on it.
His breath came quickly and unbidden, burning his mouth as it slid over his tongue. Hyperventilation, that was new. He shouldn't have been afraid, he shouldn't have been panicking. This wasn't real, it wasn't happening. It literally wasn't real.
His head felt like it was caving in, and the top of his vision distorted. It was becoming hard to stand, like his energy was dissipating. His legs felt weaker than they should've, and they began to shake from the weight of the hoof on his shoulder.
What was happening? Why was this happening, now of all times? This.. this hadn't happened since he was a child!
There was a pressure building in his chest, choking him from the inside. It felt oily.
He didn't want to die, not again.
"Light Flow... I'm c̷̖̕ȯ̸̞m̷̭̓̈́ī̴͇̆n̵̛̹g̶̮͒͑ ̴̱͍̉L̵̕͜I̸͇͛͜G̸̼̑ͅH̶̡̄T̵͈̊ ̵͚͙̓͊F̴̼̈͜L̵͖͆̿O̴͖̫̓W̴̝͑̕!"
The voice raised to a deafening volume as the words distorted in the air, jumbling together in a wet, grinding roar.
It hurt.... There was something in his...!
Light Flow's mouth gaped open in silent pain as he felt something tear its way through his throat, before the world quickly faded to black.
Oh no! I accidentally put off opening the box again! Will that darn thing ever get opened? 
Anyway, this chapter's a bit of a shorter experience. I wrote it out in about four hours, specifically, the last four hours.
I'm not really sure what happened, I just got into a groove. I just sat down to write, and the words came to me. You could even say it was like magic. 
I'm actually really happy with this chapter, even if it may be kinda rushed. I feel like I finally hit some of those highs I wanted to hit in my writing, though the ending could've been better.
I didn't want to extend this whole thing out so long, but I feel like It'll probably better to have this sequence of events out as their own contained chapter. I promise, next chapter will be what you've been waiting for. 
10/23/22 - Changed 'electric lantern' to 'lattice lantern.'
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10818501
If it wasn't a mistake, then why'd you do it?
10818967
Now, why would I tell you something like that?
I've gone through all the trouble of beating around the bush, making vague answers to every question about it, and you just want me to tell you the answer to the mystery?
That wouldn't be fun in any way!
10818967
10818986
don't worry I think most of us were picking up what you were putting down
Chapter 22: the chapter someone put a chestburster in light flow
10819064
oh no you figured it out whatever will i do my story is ruined
Meany Moony. >:( leave our boy alone.
Someday I expect you to right a four thousand word chapter about light flow watching paint dry.
Also damn. Hope he goes to see a doctor. OR A SHAMAN WHAT HAPPENED IN CHAPTER 23 DAMN YOU!
10819129
I could absolutely see a pedestrian wondering why a strange pony in a cape was staring aimlessly at a wall, while Light has absolutely no idea where he is or what he's doing.
Silly Light. You don’t use matches to light furniture ablaze. You use them to light accelerant on said furniture.
I might just be too tired, but I really wasn't feeling the horror here. It was, sadly, quite boring. I don't mean to disparage your effort, but I do value giving accurate feedback.
10819239
It wasn't really supposed to be too scary, it was more about the shock factor of what was happening. As a whole, it's also mostly a call-back to chapter seven.
So it's okay that you weren't horrified! You weren't supposed to be!
10819138
Honestly Light Flow vs Mental health has been so great I'm not sure I even wanna see grand adventure stuff like M&Ms.
I mean I kind of do wanna, but it's been really heckin good. Seriously.
I feel like I would enjoy a four thousand word chapter of light watching paint dry.
10819301
I honestly wish I had the ability to favorite comments or something because what you just said made me cackle for over thirty seconds.
I have nothing to say except Light Flow vs Mental Health is my new favorite phrase, and I'm glad you like my 70k words of unintended spirals into instability.
10819301
Watching paint dry would make a hilarious april fool’s chapter, if it were the right time of year
well on the bright side, if somehow nightmare moon wins in this AU light flow get full time employment opportunities under the new administration, and he always liked being in the dark
media1.tenor.com/images/d3ab39405ffb94d8494592324b63beb1/tenor.gif?itemid=3561440
10819586
What box?!
There's no box! There never has been!
Boxes aren't real!
10819593
media1.tenor.com/images/0886ae69c29f00cb436813242023c07e/tenor.gif?itemid=13829733
10819593
"Do not try and open the box. That's impossible. Instead... only try to realise the truth"
"What truth?"
"There is no box"
"There is no box?"
"Then you'll see, that it is not the box that opens, it is only yourself. "
ow, I cut myself on all this E D G E
Current suspect: Nightmare Moon
Current mental health problems with Light Flow: some odd form of schizophrenia (or something), he also probably has ASD and is bipolar.
But still, does Nightmare Moon, leader of necromancers in a way, have power over other ones? It’s said that there hasn’t been a necromancer in a thousand years, with Nightmare Moon being the last, so maybe she just now got the chance to use it.
Okay, that was beginning to be boring.
My biggest concern now is in the event the Mane 6 uses the elements to free Luna from Nightmare Moon, will that cause Light Flow to be taken over instead?
Glad that things are finally starting to get rolling now.
I remember my first read-through here literally made me shiver, you'd be a great horror writer. Seriously, even if it didn't hit as hard the second time.