Chapter 46 - The Soul
Light Flow was... shocked.
He'd never been so shocked, he didn't think. Not even when... no- nothing was comparable! He had no hyperbole or similes!
He was shocked silent, and while that was fairly common for him, it was no easy thing to render him mindless. Thinking was pretty much his- his thing!
All of this, this sluggish, hanging feeling, was because of Nightmare Moon, like it always seemed to be. The mare who held his brand. The mare who tugged at his reins.
The... sad, old mare sitting with blue-speckled hooves to her head, whispering something in such a low tone that he couldn't even hear. Her silver horseshoe forgotten on the ground; the segment-plated artifact of war now... a stark reminder. Of a time gone, and a... purpose lost...
He swallowed, and as it had with the three times before it, his throat felt just as dry as before.
Irony... oh, how he thought he loved irony. The search for a pair of glasses, eventually untimely found on the head. Talking trash behind someone's back, only to hear them cough from behind yours.
To lose his memory... only to find out... She had as well. That She had been gone from Equestria for so long, that now, She couldn't even remember Her life before. It might've made him laugh, once... now, it only made him feel cold.
What must She be thinking, if She remembered so little? What drove her?
Why was any of this happening, really?
A million thoughts were running tirelessly around the tracks in his mind, while he hugged his hooves close to his chest, and uncomfortably watched the... pain deepen in every line of Nightmare Moon's perfect face. Something that he thought would have made him so happy...
...yet, the only things coming to mind were ways to make Her better.
He took a shallow breath, as Nightmare Moon leaned further in on Herself: her wings reaching off from her back to pitch against nothing. Shading Her lower body in impossibly dark colors as a stifled, keening groan exhaled from Her shaking voice. A profound, creaking noise.
He let his hooves fall from the warm comfort of his cold chest, and down to the cold floor.
He stepped forward, then again: biting his lip, and clenching against a deep, unsure feeling.
He stopped, for the last time, and took a shaking, unsteady breath. For his life, he'd never forgive himself.
He embraced the Night.
Light Flow gasped in exertion as he rested his head into the soft, warm stomach of Nightmare Moon. Black fur obscuring most of his vision, but he could see, as little as he could see, how that one hoof with its blue color shook just aside his head.
Her whole body was shaking. Or was that him?
He hated it all. He hated the soft sound of unsteady breathing tickling gently on his pressed ear. He hated how, with every breath, more and more of her septic scent swirled around him. He especially hated just how warm her fur was, when it should've been cold and sharp like daggers.
He despised it, and he couldn't stop the gnawing, rending pain in his chest as he felt so... safe.
It was all so wrong.
He squeezed his eyes closed- because he just couldn't stand to see any more of Her- and as though the moment couldn't be any worse, he felt two weights press gently onto his back. He felt the exact moment that Her body began to ease against him, and every breath She took was calmer and slower against his cheek.
"How you must loathe this," came the quiet murmur from a voice silken smooth once again: little reminder of any flaw left remaining. How it must have felt. How She must have wished to gloat, as he demeaned himself and everything he'd tried to tell Her he stood for.
"Thank you."
He shook his head, and forced himself to tear away from that warmth. Stepping backwards as he pointedly looked down at the ground: trying immediately to forget how... comfortable that had been.
It was because... it was the right thing to do. Not because he cared. Not because he thought of Her as... his mother, or somepony that he loved. It wasn't anything to do with him and Her at all. It was strictly a moral dilemma, because... er- Applejack would've thought to do it.
That's right, It was all because of Applejack. Yeah.
"Don't... ever mention it," he mumbled, as the hard lined bricks in the floor formed laughing faces. He frowned harder, and shuffled his hoof forward to dispel the illusion. Stupid eyes doing stupid things to him.
Rather than a chuckle, or a laugh made at his expense, Nightmare Moon only hummed. Softly and lowly; a noise without antithesis, for how gentle it was. Well... it was kind of Her antithesis, if he was thinking about it. It should've been.
"I think that I might need to," She murmured, and though it stung his tattered pride, he forced himself to look back up to Her. Her lidded eyes and Her small frown... he grimaced all the harder to see them, as they were so genuine.
He wanted to scream at Her. He felt the pushing, kneading, sallow rage in his heart at seeing Her face so mannered. 'Why are you not leaping forward with fire on your breath and lunacy in your predatory eyes?' he wanted to say, to scream.
But then, She sighed, and sunk Her head, and that fire doused with something once again so cold. "You should never have seen me in such a way, much less come forth to offer balm. To lay prone my vulnerabilities, after all that I have done... all that I may do..."
She scoffed softly, and raised Her sunken, hooded eyes to the ceiling. "It is a ease I do not deserve." She shook her head, and lowered it again to the floor, as Her voice sunk lower. "It is a comfort which I renounced."
His mind was working: putting pieces together and stowing files away in a large cabinet he'd taken liberty to label 'ways to save the world,' even as something he'd convinced himself was necessary to build up began to crumble.
He was beginning to glean something. Something that... he felt he should've figured out a long time ago.
But it was only barely, and he would never again leap forward onto a bridge half-built. For now, he only had one thing to say. One thing he felt... was perhaps as foolhardy as anything he'd ever said.
He took a breath, and let it out. He opened his eyes, and focused them on Nightmare Moon.
"So move on."
He blinked sedately as Nightmare Moon's head whipped up, and he did not flinch away as two slashed pupils wide with something he'd never claim was shock rested onto him. Her mouth slightly agape; her posture: frozen.
He blinked again, and found that his eyes were tired; though, he hardly felt it as took another breath, and continued to speak clearly. "Pick yourself up. Carry yourself forward, if you think you need it. Don't dwell on it if you hate thinking about it so much."
He was losing confidence that had come out of nowhere with every word while those eyes continued to bore into him, so he averted his eyes, and spat out the last three words that he knew were so much more important than the rest.
"Forget the past."
It was a hollow tirade said with the urgency of an old stallion sitting drunkenly outside a drug store, but he'd said it all anyway. Even if his mouth was threatening to catch ablaze and his brows were flirting desperately with the wall he was staring at.
It was a poor attempt at giving advice, though still decent for what seemed like the first time in his life. He would have to try harder if he was going to... do what he was becoming sure needed to be done.
For the both of them, he'd try harder.
When he finally stopped feeling like a jester in a pillory near a pie sale, he turned to look at Nightmare Moon, who thankfully had Her eyes to the side: a contemplative frown drawn against the furrowed cleft of Her brow. Though, almost as soon as he turned to look, so did She; She must have just been waiting for his eye to catch Hers.
When their eyes met yet again, there was something different to Her stare. Something immediately noticeable; it was far less... reserved. Where just moments before She had seemed like every moment was a struggle to stay focused on the now, yet now, there was a sense of freedom. Not to say it was a grave change: She simply looked more like Her old self.
And as She spoke, Her voice, too, was lighter. If still slightly downcast. "You... are far from persuasive, child."
His cheek stung with phantom pain from the sudden auditory slap, and he worked his jaw as he thought back on his long history of pratfalls. Would now be a good time to play dead? Because he felt a little bit like he'd just been shot in the heart.
But then she breathed out a hum of a laugh, and as he looked back from his burning gaze to the window, She was smiling. "...But I believe in the weight of the pony speaking rather than how hopelessly emphatic they may be. If anypony else had come to me speaking such things in the most heartfelt of tones, I would have them escorted to a very cold place where they might sleep away their intoxication."
He gaped at her with wide, frowning eyes. Was She trying to commend him or insinuate he belonged in a dungeon?!
But then, as he grew all the more affronted, She tilted Her head just slightly to the side, and Her gaze grew softer. More fond. "But as they came from you..." She shook her head: closing Her eyes and chuckling softly for a beat until She turned to stare off to the side. "...I think they may just sway me..."
He stared for a moment, before he hurriedly slapped a hoof to his face, and flung his head to the opposite direction that Hers was. "You're welcome..." he mumbled muffledly through the limb hiding his flushing face.
...But that reinforced his idea. He filed Her words away into the cabinet.
He coughed as he turned in a huff back to Nightmare Moon, but whatever dumb thing he was about to try to say next stalled on his lips as he took in the small, subtle motion of Nightmare Moon flicking Her hoof towards Herself. Her face was relaxed and comfortable as She repeated the motion, then again, and it was only by the third time She'd done it that he realized She was beckoning him.
...What'd he have to lose?
As he took cautious steps forward, his eye was definitely drawn to the hoof waving through the air. It was the one hoof which She'd taken so long to free from Her shoe: the one hoof with its odd, blue speckling over its front. Dots of smaller blue fur began at Her knee: growing in size going down until the fur around Her pastern was nearly entirely blue, with the barest hints of black shining through.
But it was only the front. Only behind Her extremely high shoe: an uneven single streak of color. Like it was meant to be hidden.
He couldn't help himself: the mystery was enthralling. "Why does your hoof look like that?" he questioned, as he came to the very stoop of Her seating, and seated himself. "It... kind of looks like you kneeled in paint."
At his question, Her brow... furrowed as if confusion. And then, as She brought Her hoof to Her face and turned it around, Her brow jumped. As if in shock.
He watched placidly, though inwardly hopeful, as Her face took a tangled dive into deep, confused waters. It must've been cold: She really did look truly shocked to see the blue coloring as She turned Her hoof around and around in front of Her, seemingly to check if it was somehow spreading.
But then, as his hope for an epiphany grew at the near panic in Her shrinking eyes, something smothered the rising emotion in an instant, and the growing tension in Her shoulders sagged. "It was... a reminder," She murmured as She narrowed Her eyes onto the blue aberration: Her frown nearly a grimace.
As She shook Her head and lowered Her slightly trembling hoof, he found the question dying on his frozen lips. Of course he wanted to ask what it was a reminder for, but he could only throw himself forward so many times at once before he had to take a moment!
And of course, for the few seconds it took him to find some spare courage under a rock, She had already turned impassionate eyes onto him. "Give me your hoof," She demanded.
It took a moment of staring to sink in, and when it did, he shook his head bemusedly. "What?"
It was a dumb moment for him, and She would have been justified in racing right off the track onto one of Her fits of rage. He would've expected that from Her.
He... didn't really expect Her to sigh, shake Her head, and to fix him with a less harsh, more calmly requesting stare. "There is something that I must teach you now, and for this, as I was taught, I require your hoof." Her own hoof extended, to bob in the air expectantly.
He stared at it: shocked speechless by the benign ask for moments longer than he'd ever care to admit.
Once, he would've smacked her hoof away, bared his teeth at Her, and declared that he would never consider taking such a deal from a devil like Her.
Now, though he kept one cautious eye on Her still face the entire time, he reached his hoof forward, and placed it carefully into the giant pit of Her bared hoof.
Her massive, bared hoof with its perfectly cut fetlocks that almost completely eclipsed his own. The hard edge of her sole itself didn't quite ring around his limb, but it did still dip in to touch Her frog a little bit. Her normal, pinkish, almost heart-shaped frog.
He once would've figured it to be scorched red by Tartarus' flames, or somehow completely round like the moon. Maybe even a grotesque pit of writhing, red flesh as befitting a true nightmare. But, as he was learning, She was quite like a normal pony in many more ways than he ever would've guessed.
...Filed away.
He tore his eyes away from the slightly terrifying sight of Her hoof under his, and though the intimate skin-to-skin contact made it a little hard to speak, he swallowed through the block and found Her tender eyes. "Alright... we're- holding hooves." He licked the backs of his teeth nervously, and shot a glance to the side. "What now?"
Her eyes were warm and soft, though only for the picture of their contact. Even as he spoke to Her, Her eyes were still on their hooves clasped together: Her mouth gaping open slightly in a quiet exclamation that narrowed as She silently smacked her lips together.
And when She spoke, it was quiet, and intoned. "I have failed to teach you anything thus far... as with every step into your demesne, you leapt in giant steps ahead of me." She turned Her eyes up to his, and that smile became ever so softer.. "Of this last practical item that I know of Necromancy, let me make one final attempt to be a mentor."
He swore something popped in his ear just then, though he didn't know what altitude they were at besides 'somewhat high.' He was sure it was just nerves, though- he was very nervous.
She was right, though: She'd failed pretty spectacularly as his mentor so far. Whenever She'd begun to tell him of his abilities or something he was capable of, She either stopped short or he cut Her off, and then he'd miraculously figure it out himself.
But he wasn't quite feeling any epiphanies coming on, so whatever She was about to teach him, She was probably actually going to teach him.
It was momentous. A moment too large for words.
So, he simply nodded.
Her teeth bared slightly as She smiled larger: a pleased feeling appearing to well behind Her eyes. "Very good," She whispered, and at that, a small, nervous smile of his own grew.
"What are you going to teach me?" he asked, then grimaced slightly, as the words sounded far too schoolhouse. It was too late to take them back, as in a another moment, Nightmare Moon focused down at their holding hooves.
She pressed gently upward, and, feeling that he should, he pressed gently back. "You have learned, of your own accord, how to take and to subsume the souls of living creatures." The feathery pushing sensation on the most tender part of his hoof seemed to triple as something glowed at the top of his vision. "Now, as it is the extent of my learnings, I will teach you to free what you have taken."
He flicked his eye up- Her horn was glowing just barely- then back down to their hooves as his breathing quickened. "Is that possible?" he asked lightly: licking around his lips as something akin to excitement began to spark in his chest. "It's not just- gone? It can be taken out?"
She nodded- and he gazed back down.
That raised questions. Many questions, like: Was the process painful? Was the process long? Was it difficult, and was it like taking souls? Is anything lost or gained in the process? How, exactly, did a Necromancer 'eat' souls?
But he didn't vocalize those questions, because one or more of them sounded dumb and redundant. Instead, he went for the practical jugular. "How... did you learn to do this? And... anything that you know?" He licked his quickly drying lips, and flicked his eye up to Nightmare Moon's face, which had, at his question, grown slightly caught.
Everything else he'd learn through experience. This, as was pertinent to possibly saving the world, was practical.
He waited for a moment, feeling almost like he shouldn't have asked as Nightmare Moon seemed again glassy-eyed and vacant, but after only another few moments, She suddenly shook Her head, and took a sharp breath.
"I have known Necromancers in the past, as I have said; and I have sometimes sought after my curiosities of the art in the past, as I have said," She intoned, though just barely, as She rushed through the words and seemed almost out of breath by their end. He could only wonder how much She was actually remembering, and what She'd only filled in.
She shook her head, and took a huffing breath: raising Her glowing eyes to his. "That is neither here nor there, Light. Please, allow me a moment of solace, and focus on my lesson."
His mouth gaped slightly open as he felt... slightly admonished, and without his consent, his ears drooped to press against his head. "I'm... sorry," he admitted, as he cast his eyes to the floor.
Nightmare Moon, though he wasn't looking at Her, sighed. "Simply..." She began, then stopped, then, in a moment, something began to warm between their connected hooves. He perked up and looked towards the odd sensation, to see a small glow shining out from the crack in their physical meeting. "-simply focus deeply on the conjoining of our hooves. It will be necessary for you to enter a meditative trance for the process of manifesting a soul."
He blinked, again looking up at the blue sparkle around her long, black horn for a moment, then returning to the identical light under their hooves. "You want me to... really focus?" He flicked an eye back up to Nightmare Moon's waiting face, and managed to crack a wry smile. "Because... if I do that, you might not be able to get me back for an hour."
A chortle echoed out through the hall, and Nightmare Moon returned to smile back down at him, though slightly reproving. "If you retreat too far into your mind, know that I will drag you back." She pressed up, and he pressed affirmingly down. "Now, focus."
The slight threat set a shiver along his spine, but only at the threat. Still smiling: he returned to staring at their hooves, shaking his head all the way.
And then, he began to stare. At the conjoining shape of their hooves together: one too small lying above and on the one far too weighted for the reverse, and the small, shimmering glow between them. Such an odd pair: so unfitting, yet so alike in the myriad things they weren't.
And the warmth. Like a small, flickering candle held just barely close enough to feel, yet never so close as to burn. Kneading against his flesh in the breeze that didn't exist- but it was still exhilarating. So dangerous to feel that warmth so close yet to keep it trapped between them, when he could still feel the very edge of his frog against the cold rim of the other hoof. A teetering dance balanced on a ball of fire.
And just under his: it was Her frog. Soft, and warm- though the sensation was very less through only his sole. He could imagine yet more, especially thinking of his own feeling against Her sole. The subtle pulsing of veins against the taut skin. The plush, bare skin. The vulnerable, open skin.
So vulnerable. So very intimate. It made him feel warm, to be so close to Her. To anypony.
It made him feel so warm. Warm... Warm...
Warm all over... everything was warm.. like... he was submerged in water...
Yes... it was just like he was floating on a pulsing wellspring of warm, soothing water. It flowed under his skin, yet always pushed from the outside; it never touched within. Surface deep; a ghost of sensation, for what could be truly felt merely skin-deep?
It raged, the tide outside: thrashing against his body, but never brutal. The river seemed to breathe, in a way: rapids throbbing in endless time and lifting him up as much as they cast him down. Yet still, it was an equilibrium; it was metered. For as much as it rose, it would always fall; it would unceasingly return.
Yet the warmth never abated; the warmth never changed. It was skin-deep, yet felt much further below as well. The surface hid below: a shining torch of inner heat. It radiated the essence of something powerful; his body was a source. As it burst, his body pulsed. As it pulsed, his skin warmed.
A balance. Every action added; every feeling had a source.
It was without; it was within. The cold tide was without; the warmth was within.
"Light Flow... Child... can you hear me?"
He murmured against the voice tickling like barbed feathers at his ear: flicking the appendage lazily as he continued to drift soundlessly on the eternal ride of continuous balance. A teetering dance.
"You barely stay connected to the physical world as it is, don't you? It was a true ease for you to reach profound meditation. It is nearly concerning."
The words were... blue. They brought a tugging weight of heavy blue into his... profound meditation: nearly making him sink below the precarious perch of rushing water.
Would the words kindly leave him alone, so that he may enjoy the still moment of peace above the chaos? As without, so within; the voice was without, and his temper was within. He wished he could control the voice, rather than his temper. Temper without; voice within.
"Focus within. Cast aside your ascended pleasures, and remember the worldly flame. Between our hooves: you must recall the flame. Recall your purpose, and hold it to yourself."
He didn't want to... He wanted to stay disconnected...
But still, he wasn't mindless, and so, he allowed the warmth to fade minimally. The rivers to abate. The rapids, to quell. As without, he was within. As within, he was still without.
And without, as his body grew cold, he could again feel the floor beneath him, and the flame against his hoof. The words, he'd always known, were Nightmare Moon's, and again She whispered into his ear: her cold breath tickling his fur.
"Feel how the warmth moves. Feel how it pushes, and desires freedom. Feel how it seethes."
He sighed deeply, and took one long breath in as he zeroed down onto the warmth. One by one the composite feelings fell away as the warmth grew against his senses, and those he feared the sensation of forgetting the floor and falling, he welcomed the freedom therein.
And therein... he could feel the fire. So hot on his hoof, yet kept away from burning. Struggling, struggling; it couldn't reach him. It only warmed him, as it screamed for release. Pushing.... pulling... kneading... pleading...
"Remember it. Don't forget the flame. Now, look for that feeling within yourself. Feel the warmth, and find it. Find the warmth within. Find it."
Within... Within...
Within, he was warm. At the touch of a million- no, a trillion flickering flames casting shallow light over his body: warming his skin and burning his flesh. Cracking and charring his skin; scarring and soldering his flesh. He, too, burned as a candle. He, too, was a candle.
With the warmth without, he was one. From the warmth without, he found within. Pouring liquid fever to his cast, and as he was filled, so too, he was emptied. Of the warmth within, he was left empty. Of the warmth without: he was filled.
And as he was emptied, so too was he found something within. The warmth without left his body cold, as it could only ever be felt skin-deep. And as his body grew cold, he could see so clearly from where the warmth within sprung. From his body without, so he found within; he found the source.
He found the epicenter.
He found three.
Three within. A trillion without.
"To subsume: an act of will. To relinquish: the same. Grasp hold. Believe it is yours.
"Let it go. Bring it out."
For the first moment, he wanted to weep. As one solitary flame within brushed against his will, he could swear something within spoke to him. It told him to hang on. It told him to let go.
It spoke of running. Moving. Loneliness, and things left behind. A new life in a new place, and it was all so strange.
It screamed of home, yet he could not hear it. It cried for what it had lost, yet he was deafened.
One day, may he learn to hear.
One day, may he learn to listen.
He pulled.
Something hurt; his eyes flew open.
His body jerked forward, and he stumbled onto hooves he'd forgotten he had. The world without pressed in: the cold air around him, the dank castle air, and the absolute silence for it had been so long forgotten.
Everything that was Light Flow filled in where he had shoo'd it away, and as he took deep, gasping breaths for a chest that ached so deeply, he found that something was different. He was... colder. Something was wrong. The warmth within was... chiller.
He shook his head, shut his eyes, and tried to reassert himself. Where was he? Castle. What was he doing? Meditation. Why had he been doing it? Because Nightmare Moon had told him to. Why had She told him to?
He gasped.
He whipped his head around- turned- trotted- saw-
Leaned down to hold in his hooves: a small ball of light drifting on tiny wisps just above the floor.
His mouth made odd shapes and odder gasping noises as his eyes filled with the sight of the small orb shedding embers of light: his hooves shaking regularly as he held the floating object aloft. Its shallow light casting glowing flickers over his frog that crept like cinders into the air and snuffed out.
So small. So precious. So whimsical. Like everything he'd ever dreamed.
It bounced stoutly in the still air as it glowed from deep within its epicenter, only dipping down for as much as it rose slightly up: the shallow movement only surface deep, as far within- he could see the movement. Many tiny lines of inexplicable light moving and rotating around its core. Its own epicenter.
It was just as he'd last seen it. The intermittent shifting movement within- the deep glow- the lack of scent- it was a soul! The magical code for a living creature: separated from flesh and mana yet still holding imprint! Held within: everything that a creature was. This was an entire creature! It was the warmth!
He felt like a foal as he raised his hooves aloft, soul and all, and let out an excited cheer, but he didn't care! He'd done it! First, he'd taken it from a creature, and now, he'd taken it out of himself!
He could do it all! He could take them; he could use them! He could even-
He frowned.
It was a different color.
The runaway track in his mind that had been well on its way to celebratory junction stuttered to a crashing halt, as he leaned the soul back down to his head, and peered closer at it.
It... had been grey, hadn't it? The soul he'd taken from the crow?
Now its composite lines of magical code were... blue-ish... Cyan? Almost the same shade as Nightmare Moon's eyes, but a bit darker. Kind of steely- bordering on almost grey, actually.
But still: the soul from the crow had been very obviously grey. A dark grey.
He blinked, and looked up from the soul.
Nightmare Moon was standing a few hoof-lengths away from him- She'd either moved or he'd stumbled forward further than he'd thought- and there was a small, nearly proud smile on Her face. Her hooves were together in Her lap, and She stood tall and mighty-
-but then, as he looked Her way with a confused frown, She frowned as well. "What is it?" She questioned, as he flung a million questions at Her with his eyes. "Why do you not leap in joy or cry in accomplishment?" Her head tilted and She raised an eyebrow. "You should take the cause for celebration now; we have but hardly long before we will need to begin moving."
She turned to look out the window, now behind him, as Her eyes narrowed and his spine tingled. "No... Not very long now at all..." she murmured- and no that wasn't fair!
He scowled heavily, and turned angry eyes down to the soul he held aloft. He tilted his hoof slightly to the side, and the soul- almost as if it really was physical- began to float slightly away. He stopped the lean, and the soul returned to a floating equilibrium.
Interesting. But not nearly as interesting as the fact that the soul had changed color and Nightmare Moon was telling him they were just about out of time!
He'd have to move quickly, even for this.
He took another deep breath and one last angry glance down at the soul, before he let the emotion go, and turned mostly even eyes to Nightmare Moon. He extended both hooves out: Her eyes returning for the motion and brow jumping slightly as he apparently proffered the soul to Her.
But he shook his head, and thrust his hooves forward insistently again. "Do you know why this happened? It changed color." he demanded, trying to keep from scowling too overtly as Nightmare Moon blinked bemusedly, and leaned closer to him.
Her horn sparked- Her eyes began to glow, and She let out a considerate hum. He waited patiently for exactly one second as She seemingly studied his soul intensely, before he jerked his hooves back: hiding the soul behind his side as Nightmare Moon leaned away with a half-frown. "So?" he ventured obviously.
She hummed again: the sound bordering very much on grating as She nodded seriously. "Yes... there was a chance this might happen," She affirmed emptily with a light tone in Her voice. He leaned forward with a very expectant expression, and after a moment, Her mouth made a small 'o' of exclamation.. "Oh... it is nothing serious. You simply took a different soul out of your body, rather than the crow's."
She hummed lightly. "It is hardly something to worry about for now." And then, like She hadn't just said anything at all, She began to stand. Starry mist swirled obscuringly around the heels of Her hooves as She stalked forward: walking past him and his gaping mouth casually as he got a big eyeful of Her aberrant cutie mark.
"Come," She spoke over Her shoulder: turning back as She'd taken a few steps forward. She lifted Her hoof up to frame the door far behind Her: a calm face doing little to soothe the fire in his chest. "The heroes shall arrive before too long, and it would be pertinent to greet them."
Three things- and he had to think fast.
One: the soul he'd grabbed wasn't the crow's. Out of the three flames in his heart that he'd grabbed at, he'd grabbed the wrong one- and there were three. It couldn't be his, since that would've killed him, he was certain. It was another.
That meant two things. He'd had two souls inside him even before he'd killed the crow, and Nightmare Moon had known about it, judging by her blaisé reaction and Her telling him.
Two: their time was out; the heroes were coming. Nightmare Moon was currently standing between him and the door, attempting to shepherd him towards it, and generally acting as though everything were completely fine.
That meant he was out of time to figure anything out about Necromancy, and to dissuade Nightmare Moon from taking over Equestria. His plan as had been formed twenty minutes ago was already falling to tatters, since it'd relied heavily on an actual timeframe in which to dissuade Nightmare Moon from taking over Equestria.
Three: Nightmare Moon wasn't fine, because he could very clearly see, even as Her face kept a light, easy edge: how tense Her withers were. The steely corded tendons were pulled taut with anticipation- and even lesser: Her wings were sitting ill-fittingly on Her back. Not quite rustling restlessly, but almost quivering.
That meant Nightmare Moon was nervous, and that meant...
...his plan might still pan out. It'd be difficult, but Nightmare Moon was obviously uncertain about confronting the heroes. With everything he knew about Her, and with how close She'd allowed him to come to Her...
Empty, hollow degree.
Sad, vacant eyes: focused on the past.
Tender, shallow breath against his cheek.
...he may just be able to talk Her down.
But first.
Light checked down at the soul in his hooves- a stranger's soul- and clambered to his hooves. Momentary confidence shriveled and he flinched as Nightmare Moon smiled at him, and beckoned him again to the door, but that, too, was momentary. After a second of internal pepping, he broke a deep breath, and put his hoof firmly down!
...Which made it look like he was stepping towards the door, but he wasn't!
He shook his head, and cradled the one hoof he'd relegated to holding his soul close to his chest. "Wait!" he called, and though it would've been more dramatic if Nightmare Moon had been able to turn in shock, She still raised a curious eyebrow to him.
He swallowed against another bout of heady doubt, took a quick peek down the the cyan soul he held, and fixed steady eyes on Her. "Before we go, you need to tell me a few things. Things that- that I deserve to know before we... conquer Equestria."
The words sounded stupid and felt like solid embarrassment coming out of his cottony mouth, but he kept a firm resolve. Even as Nightmare Moon quirked an odd grin, and generally gave off a posture that made him begin to feel like a comic book hero.
"'Conquer Equestria?'" She barked out a quick cackle of a laugh: staring down at him fondly. "Child, you make it sound so grave. As though you expect me to topple gates and begin to plant heads onto pikes." She shook her head with a chuckle, as if She wasn't an elden Goddess of combat. "You have my word: when it comes time, Equestria shall simply fall prone at our hooves."
'Our hooves.'
He shivered, and Nightmare Moon, perhaps seeing his reticence, had Her smile fall slightly. After a moment, She spoke: a weary edge of impatience on Her voice. "...Very well. If it would set you at ease for what need be done, then these few moments we have shall be yours." She glanced to his side: out of the window, and Her eyes narrowed. "...But we only have scant moments."
He nodded, relishing the confidence holding a soul gave him. "I only need a few," he assured, and Nightmare Moon quirked Her frown to the side. He swallowed, and licked against his teeth. "First," he began, then...
First... What was first?
One thing, then the other. Simple. Just... what was the thing?
His mouth stuttered open, and as the first thing he could think of crossed his mind, he blurted it out. "Whose soul is this?!"
The shout was unplanned, unthought, and generally a very poor decision, but it was the first thing he'd thought of, so he thrust his hooves forward after only another moment. He tried to keep his gaze even and stern as Nightmare Moon's frown turned unimpressed, and her brow ticked up.
After a moment, when She seemed to finally get that he wasn't going to relent, She groaned, and rolled Her eyes. "You tell me," She scolded, and he recoiled away from the harsh tone: cradling the soul again to himself. She sighed, and Her frown grew somewhat less puncturing, as did Her tone. "Think on it for even a moment, and you may find an answer. It is a simple exercise, so simply think."
He blinked haltingly, still keeping firm hold of the soul, before he looked curiously down at it. That moving, glowing, usually floating ball of light that had once been somecreature.
If he thought about it... Just- really fast...
He knew a soul was the coding structure for a creature's personality; like DNA, it was the essential being of the definable sense of self that sapient creatures could claim to have. And then, even the simply sentient creatures had souls as well, if not so much personality. Everything had a soul- except, maybe bugs. Just because he hated them, and he didn't want them to have souls.
And those souls could be taken- as he'd done with the crow two or so hours ago- but normally... well, he'd never been around something dying to see- he'd never been so lucky- but he assumed they just... disappeared. Souls didn't exactly stick around after death, or he'd have seen them around gravesites and such.
It was really too bad: he'd only ever showed up to deaths mere moments after it happened. Even when his old neighbor- his old neighbor- had been ill in the hospital, and she'd asked to see him before she died, he'd gotten waylaid by a traveling book seller, and shown up apparently just five minutes after she'd kicked the bucket.
...He'd been younger then- but wasn't he glad he'd never had to have that bedside talk.
What was he saying? He'd never been around anypony dying before- that's right. No, in his entire life, he'd never been anywhere close to a dying or soon-to-be-dead creature-
..!
His free hoof, which had been occupied with tapping idly against his chin, stilled in a single moment as a shallow breath stalled on his lips. His shaking, flapping lips uttered absolute silence as he slowly, so carefully brought the soul up in front of him.
It floated there, in his own two hooves, glowing a soft, steely cyan.
Steely cyan.
"Sweet heavens above," he whispered in disbelief: his hooves failing him as he fell backwards onto his butt. Staring deeply into its web-like depths, as if it would allow him to peer into its past. To see if what he thought was true, was... true.
But it was. When he'd grasped it in his chest, he'd seen. He'd heard it cry for a far-away home. He'd felt it wish for solace.
It was her.
It was Zecora.
It hit him all at once. The sadness- the guilt- the horrible, rending pain that he'd felt as he'd watched- listened- heard that sickening snap.
And he could still remember it. Even as he shut his eyes and wished it away, he still saw the exact moment that her neck had turned far too much, and the snap. The golden rings shattering. The bones jutting wrongly from taut, shaking skin- because for a few moments more, she'd still been alive.
How must it have felt, to have her neck twisted beyond repair? The fraying sensation of muscles that were meant to protect snapping against an irrevocable force. The disconcerting motion of the bones leaving their sockets, and dragging shallow cuts into skin that never should have met bone in the first place.
Limbs falling limp. Her mouth filling with blood. Lungs fluttering weakly. The last few breaths tinted with iron. Veins bursting- nerves pinching- mind replaying every endless torture as she wondered with every fading sensation just when it had all gone wrong.
And the worst part was...
...Light still couldn't cry.
He gasped in exertion as, for the second minute in a row, his eyes stayed stubbornly dry from his attempts to force himself to cry. He tried again: shutting them tightly enough that it immediately began to hurt, yet in every moment, it could only continue to hurt.
He could not cry for Zecora. He wanted to. He even felt sad enough to. He understood very well that her death- her blood was on his hooves, but he just... couldn't...
Somewhere, deep in his chest, when he thought of every horrible moment... When he considered every awful, visceral detail of the zebra's last, forced moments... When he pictured the jutting bone, and the leaking blood, and the avoidable loss...
When he remembered that snap... hearing it endlessly ringing out in a gradual crescendo in his ears... there was some- some feeling... deep down in his heart that he might've thought was...
...excitement.
When he opened his eyes again, they were wan, and tired. Tired with the weight of yet another something that he had come to realize over the course of the night. Something he might've preferred stayed buried, for the loving sake of his own fragile mind.
When he looked back down at Zecora's soul, it was with steady motion and firm feelings: turning his hooves around to force the ball to bob and spin erratically. Playing gently with everything that Zecora was, and feeling nothing of it.
And as he stared down at her soul, with its shifting beauty and depthless intrigue, he couldn't stop himself from smiling.
Because it still made him so happy.
He sniffed back empty regret and turned his sunken eyes back up to Nightmare Moon, who looked upon him with sullen lines and a sadness in Her eyes that he could not match.
How odd, that She might feel sadness, when it was dying so quickly in his chest.
He hummed something odd as he flicked his eye back down to the soul- and felt again, how happy it made him- before he met Nightmare Moon's eye yet again. "...I'd like to put this back soon," he murmured, and then he swallowed as his throat was so unexpectedly dry. So scratchy.
Nightmare Moon studied him for a long few seconds: her lidded, shining cyan eyes glimmering with... an entire gambit of emotions that flickered far too fast to catalogue. He saw sadness. He saw surprise. He saw... a worry.
But then, Her eyes closed, and as they opened they were filled with soft, readied acceptance. "Very well..." She murmured back, and slowly, She strode towards him. As if by second thought, Her horn lit, and Her forgotten shoe picked itself up into the air.
"...If that is what you wish of it, then we may devote some time in the future to bringing the zebra back from the brink. I am not so cruel as to deny you your reparations," She continued to say as Her silver horseshoe came to rest in Her path, and in a flash of light that blinded him just as She stepped towards it, it was again soundly attached to Her hoof.
She came to a stop in front of him, and regarded his diminutive form with an unsettlingly reproachful half-lidded stare as She stomped her perfectly clad hoof to the ground. "But know you may not always have these chances, child." Her stare grew dimmer, and Her hoof extended to gently curl against his ear. "Whether by mine own command or the world's turn, you cannot forever choose this shallow path of Kindness."
Her touch was cool against the rising heat in his head, and so he allowed himself to relax against the hoof sweeping across his mane as Her grim degree chilled him. "I would wish you rid of this sentiment, as you should forget a soul for what it once was. At a pony's death, or even upon the forced removal of their soul, they can no longer be called a pony. It is simply a soul. It is simply yours."
Her voice dipped down, to a whisper. "What lies beneath the common creature's heart as I reign above, I would have but for you. That is my gift to you, Light. You may have any soul you desire, if you would only follow me to the future that I deign.
"Stay aside me, and you may have anything. Any life you desire. Anything."
He swallowed heavily: feeling how that sick feeling in his chest leapt with joy at the prospect. The idea- the sheer decadent idea of such dominance. To desire a soul, and have it upon a mere command.
If Nightmare Moon took over Equestria, then She would probably have him installed as a prince. A Prince of Souls... desiring death and having it, all at his leisure. At any time he spoke, he could just have a pony... killed...
A soul... brought to him... At any time he desired... To do with as he pleased...
Grasp hold... Believe it is yours...
He broke a shallow breath, and slowly opened his eyes against the hoof that had made its way to his cheek. "You're saying that you would allow me domain over the entire kingdom's souls?" He slid his eye up, to stare blankly at Nightmare Moon. "That you would allow me to take any I desired, at any notice?"
Her eyes, lidded and powerful, seemed to glow at his words. Her touch was so cold on his cheek. "Yes... you may have anything you desire, child..." She whispered, and he could no longer deny the harsh note of discordant love in Her voice. The obsession.
He'd been afraid to say it. He'd been too afraid to even think it.
No. Not this.
Let it go. Bring it out.
He lifted his hoof barely up, and Her glowing eyes immediately caught on the soul there. "If I have dominion over souls... then they are mine to give just as much as they are mine to take." He pushed his hooves further up, and the hoof on his cheek fell away. "I want this one to go back to Zecora."
He kept a steady, unwavering gaze, even as Nightmare Moon stepped uncertainly back. Her eyes were filled with... so much bewilderment, as She'd literally offered him death rites to the entire kingdom, and he'd seemingly refused.
But honestly... he didn't really have the will to refuse extreme temptation. Even then, everything that he was, was jumping and screaming for him to just nod happily and trot along after Her. It sounded like everything he ever wanted, and it was a massive effort to keep his face from twitching for as madly as he wanted to just say yes!
Death and gore... Life and souls... It really did sound like his destiny.
But his heart... and even that nagging note that reminded him he had a destiny to fulfill... it all seemed a little quieter compared to the voice in his head that sounded so much like somepony he knew.
A voice along a whispered breeze carrying the scent of summer days and apple stalks.
A voice that told him he was better 'n that.
So, better he'd try to be.
He continued to keep his apple-scented morals steady as Nightmare Moon took a deep breath: leaning Her head down against the plates of Her armor, and knitting conflicted brows together. He wondered just what She might've been thinking behind that heavy expression. It seemed like his stance on doing relative good had thrown Her for a loop.
Threw him a bit for a loop, too. Honestly, it was kind of way out of left field. Hadn't he once declared he'd like nothing more than to overthrow the government and see Princess Celestia fall dead at his hooves? He barely seemed like the same pony as that little colt with the overblown propensity for calling things stupid.
He'd seemed a little stupid himself, back then.
Finally, Nightmare Moon shook off Her reverie, and raised Her head: Her opened eyes sparkling with stinging apathy; though, a still note of endearment lingered within.
"It astounds me, simply how much you have seemed to change from that cowering little colt." Her eye narrowed, and, as though She were ashamed, She averted Her gaze from him, and dropped Her voice. "If things were different, you may have been very Kind indeed."
He scrunched his face up in confusion as he processed Her words, and She turned to stare towards the door. That was an odd amount of emphasis on the word 'kind.' Did it mean something? He was currently hovering questioningly next to his world-saving cabinet, wondering whether it should be filed or whether his filing system would suffer from the unkempt and premature classification.
...He threw it in, just for the hell of it.
He shook his head, and focused in time to catch the critical side-eye Nightmare Moon shot him. "...It is nearly time, and every effort I have taken to stall the heroes has failed." She stepped away, towards the door: Her face falling into a grimace to match the severe tone She'd adopted. "...My actions may have even accelerated their growth. Virtue is much like a cockroach: it never seems to just die."
She began a quick trot forward: barking over Her shoulder. "Come! We have no more time for talk of the future nor of the past! We must make haste to prevent the heroes' ascension!"
Heroes' ascension?
Very quickly, and without taking his eyes off Nightmare Moon, he pressed his hooves against his chest, and focused. Took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and focused.
Recreate the feeling. Subsume. Synergize. Connect. Make the soul become one with himself.
Soul without: come within.
Become one.
With a deep breath out, he opened his eyes, and let his empty hooves fall away from his warm chest. He scrambled quickly to his hooves, and made to gallop after Nightmare Moon.
He had one chance. If they went too far and found the heroes... then win or lose, he'd experience a loss. He had to do it now, when they were still alone.
"If there's no time to discuss the past or future, then let's discuss the present!" he shouted, and Nightmare Moon's gait stalled. Her head whipped around to focus on him just as She came up to the door, and as he quickened his pace, he was able to pass Her.
His hooves ached from hours worth of standing, but still, he skidded to a stop with his side to the door and his steady gaze on Nightmare Moon: staring back at him with a tense glare.
He met it. even as his skin prickled, and his spine tingled, he met it.
She growled: a deep, thrumming reverberation come from Her massive chest. "Light Flow," She warned, and his tingling ears nearly wanted to drop in fear from the dangerous edge. A glimpse of sharp teeth showed, and Her face hardened. "You test my patience. Know that I hold you in high regard, but I will not be stalled from the future any longer!"
She looked past him, to the door: narrowing Her eyes as they grew distant. "My last effort has failed, and the bridge is repaired." Her eye returned to him, and She took a step forward: Her eyes flashing with something dangerous. "They shall be in the castle soon, and they might only wander for so long before they find them!"
Even as She encroached and bared Her fangs, he did not relent, nor give ground. He stood firm and tall, with a set jaw. "Find what?" he questioned hotly, and Nightmare Moon opened Her mouth in an affront. But he wasn't done. "If we're running out of time, then I'll talk fast, but we need to talk, and we need to do it now!"
Her mouth fell into a gape: an odd sight with Her teeth aligned as they were. She stuttered to respond- an especially odd sound from Her- but he was perfectly fine to talk. "We cannot confront the heroes as I am, and as you've hidden so much from me!"
He wasn't quite shouting, but his tone was raised, and it showed in the reflection of Nightmare Moon's angry, glowing eyes. "You taught me above all else that knowledge is a weapon, yet you've left me completely defenseless! I don't know who the heroes are! I don't know what they're looking for in the castle- or why it's still in the castle!"
He stomped his hoof. "I don't even know what will happen after we defeat the heroes! You've told me nothing of this- this new kingdom that I'm only assuming you're going to create!"
Nightmare Moon's face was a terrifying visage of god-like rage and vitriol. Every tense line accenting the snarling teeth She held in a large scowl, and every popping vein along every uncomfortable line of bone seeming dull compared to the burning fire in Her lidded, draconic eyes. Even Her wings were beginning to pitch slightly: a terse showing of momentary calm before the pounce.
But he held his ground. His faith was his shield, and he held faith that She'd never hurt him. "You have to tell me, before it's too late, and I find something on my own you clearly don't want me to find!" he demanded: showing his best side in a hot, steaming pout of a face.
He stomped his hoof again, and Nightmare Moon literally snarled at him. He kept going: even as spittle landed by his stomping hoof. "You've been hiding something from me, and I want to know what it is! It's not just that we haven't spoken about it: you're keeping the identity of the heroes and the source of their power a secret, and I want to know why!"
It might've sounded childish. It may have even come from a childish place, because- honestly? He was angry, and he did feel entitled to an answer. She could not claim to love him, and that he could have anything his heart desired, all the while keeping him blind and complacent!
He would not be that for Her. If he was her knight- Her prince- what have you, then he needed to know!
It was his right to know who would die for his temptation!
It was a long battle of will, it felt: as they stared each other down. One of them: a seemingly all-powerful Goddess with magic such that She could heft the moon itself upon Her shoulders as duty. The other: a barely grown unicorn with too-short hair, a small horn that couldn't cast any spells, and a face best suited for foals to laugh at.
Yet still, as these forces clashed, one found the other would not topple.
And as it was only a few seconds that they stared at each other, so did Nightmare Moon relent.
"Very well. I shall tell you of who it is that will die tonight."
Her face, fallen suddenly into a frigid pit of detachment, hardened in a grim, bitter moment. The foreboding harbinger of what was now soon to come.
"And we shall see if you may remain so Kind."
mmhmMMmhmMmhm~ 
Plotty plot details comin' up sneakily behind you and deeply drawing you deep into their deep plot. innuendo
I... feel good about this chapter. Like, really good. For the first time in over a year, I actually feel consistently good about the things that I'm writing, as I'm writing them on a consistent basis. Consistency! It's a marvel!
This is really the pace I wish I had set all that time ago. We start as we always do with a bit a' light feels and NMM posturing like she's in theatre, but then we jump right into the intrigue about her past and suddenly Light's got a plan and we're learning about souls and Light's learning how to control them and oh Zecora!
This is IT man where MAKIN IT HAPEN! 
This is the Light- the confident Light who wants answers and knows he's able to ask for them- that I wanted to come alive in the old chapter 40, but, in a way, I'm still glad I did what I did to get here. Well- no I'm not, but it was a stepping stone, to be sure. 
Oh and, as for that weird-ass bit where Light practices meditation, feel free to make up your own interpretation about what everything meant, but also feel free to ask me about the actual interpretation that's probably not as cool as yours.
don't quote me on this but next numbered chapter may be the last of the NMM arc
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Thank you for another fantastic chapter. Shame I can't give more than one like.
11415859
D'awww!
Buttering me up won't make the next chapter come sooner!
a little shameless flattery never hurts, though
Poor zebra.
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She deserved better than she got. And better than she is continuing to get, as her soul becomes the crux of Light's moral dilemma in-between him shamelessly fawning over it.
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"I see you Light, and the depth of your moral plight.
But unless you regain your amnesia, you must free this zebra."
My god, what a profound arc this has been. If I wasn’t lying down while reading this I would literally be shaking in my boots with anticipation.
Here we go, THIS is what I’ve been waiting for. Definitely one of my favorite chapters so far
Nightmare Mommy's going in for the slam dunk! Can our girl AJ stand up to the new competition?
Good chapter!
Dead Pegasus from like, 5 years ago?
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I was wrong.