I wish I could say that my truth spell uncovered some as-of-yet unknown facet to him which absolved him of his very real potential to harm others. I did not, however I had found something else. Something deeper.

He held resentment in his heart, but not just. He recognized what was wrong with his world, and tried to do better. He recognized why he was wronged, and tried to isolate himself from the cause, he did try to do better on his own. He still posed no less of a potential danger than what my sister and I had first recognized in him, but I found I was mistaken in my perception of him. He was not some sick beast that needed to be pacified; he was far more than just some reiteration of my own Nightmare; he was a man who persevered, even now.

I told him before, but only now did I truly understand it myself. He had drowned, but now he was safe.

I didn’t react the way I did because I was saddened by his confessions, per se. In all honesty, it was all merely a matter of perspective.

First off, such tragedy simply does not happen in our world. It was something which I was still having trouble coming to grips with. And yet, the fact remained that for so very long, to his very last breath, he struggled against his fellow humans, and they did not stop until they forced one last death out of him. He alienated himself from them, and they sought out his own end, for what? Was it truly because of his magic, or was it because he dared to reject their 'justice'? Because he defied their own corrupt order?

His society was so much worse than our own to such a drastic degree that, it just broke my heart. It was just now settling in for me that perhaps his craft was much less out of place in his world than I had initially thought.

Soul-eating monsters and mad undead were the least of his worries. There were worse still than that, and as a result, his peers were living in fear to the point that instead of being encouraged to enforce their community, they merely focused on putting as many bodies between themselves and any sort of danger or insecurity as possible. Their peers’ bodies. To what precise extent, I did not know, but it definitely appeared that they were too busy to actually seek out enlightenment and personal growth in any manner, instead pursuing becoming as loud and aggressive apes as possible. Such a society was simply inequine… but that was all that he had at his disposal.

I shuddered to consider what he expected to find of our kingdom this day. No wonder he was not satisfied with his findings and wanted to inspect other cities beside Canterlot.

That was why I cried. Not for a single tragic life, but for an entire tragic world... and for my own mistaken assumptions of the treasure within my care.

Right now, he tried. He might’ve not turned out unblemished as a result of his life thus far, but he was still trying to understand something contradictory to his nature, to his being. He might’ve not been the child I wanted, but he still sought to understand something which wasn’t making any sense to him, in spite of how it made no sense to him. He was trying to understand, well, me. And it was hard for him, but he still tried. It was painful for him, maddening for him, it spit in the face of everything he built himself upon, but he. Still. Tried.

He could’ve most certainly come out much, much worse than he did. I did not know what he went through, and I doubted I would know even if he were to recite his entire life to me. Still, that wouldn’t stop me from trying, especially not now when I finally knew that my words and actions really did have an effect on him. After all, maybe that was all he really needed. For someone to try to understand him as well.

Here in the square of Canterlot, I held my son.

I did not stay that way long enough, however, as something decided to impose a rude interruption.

I was not paying attention to my surroundings, and didn’t notice the commotion my subjects were causing until moments before I felt an impact upon my side, throwing me into a merchant’s stand a few strides away (*).

I felt my disguise flicker from the impacts, but I regained my focus quickly enough once I recovered my senses amidst the debris of the stand. It was a lapse in concentration, but I doubt anyone noticed my true identity. After all, I wouldn't allow for the day I planned to spend with my child to be canceled because of this fiend.

As I recovered from the crash, I first took stock of myself and my charge. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… fine,” he offered with a notable amount of reservation, seemingly distracted somewhat.

Not feeling anything broken, I focused my attention to the hissing monster glaring at us. It was a large creature, perhaps three times my real size, a cross between a lizard and a bird. Leathery wings with long scales arranged like feathers, ending with long, hooked claws, sharp enough to leave shallow cuts as it dragged them across the hard marble in an effort at intimidation. It seemed completely capable of balancing itself on its hindlegs however. A long beak full of serrated teeth, with multiple long, tentacle-like tongues within. And a single eye betraying simple, beastial aggression.

“You let your guard down. That’s why it attacked.”

I was more concerned with focusing on the beast in front of me than responding. However, before I even gathered the presence of mind to decide to use an offensive spell, the creature faded out of vision. I looked around in surprise and trepidation, not finding the creature anywhere, however I still heard its hissing and scratching on the marble, and could make out the places where he'd disturb the few stretches of remaining snow. It was circling me, indeed looking for another opening.

“You do know Snallighasts can turn invisible, right?”

“Don’t you mean Snallygasters?” I baited.

“Careful!”

My charge’s warning wasn’t necessary in the slightest. This beast was clearly deadly in its speed and arsenal, which were more than enough to hunt a manticore. However, I had stronger protection than even the natural king of the hunt, and more than enough magical ability to make this encounter into a farce. I was actually surprised that its opening strike hurt me so very little.

As the beast rushed at my perceived blind spot, I turned toward the noise it was making and blasted it away with a simple concussive spell, knocking it out of its cloaking field. It bounced a few times, then it stopped, remaining still.

“I think you might’ve killed it,” my charge’s voice went, chilling the blood in my veins.

“What?!”

I rushed towards the creature, my charge still held against my chest, past a stallion who approached us in order to ask if we were not harmed ourselves, then I regarded the beast. It was still breathing, however there was a trickle of blood coming from its head.

My charge commented, “Its skull is fractured. It doesn’t seem to be dead, however.”

“I didn’t hit it that hard!”

“The fact that you almost killed it says otherwise.” I wanted to say something else, however he patted me on the place where I was hit and continued with, “Exactly how durable are you?”

I was interrupted again, this time by a pegasus guard who arrived at the scene. “Ma’am? Are you and your colt okay?”

Two of his colleagues approached soon afterwards, landing on either side of the fallen creature, carefully. Apparently they had enough sense to treat this situation as the adequate threat it… was supposed to be.

“We’re fine. Just a little startled, is all…”

“You sure?” the guard checked. “That was quite the impact you both went through.”

“I would be more concerned with that… beast, if I were you. I seem to have reacted a bit strongly.” ‘Which is to say, for whatever reason, it is far weaker than it’s supposed to be.’

“Don’t worry, I don’t think anypony would judge a mother for reacting to a threat to her child.” I felt my charge go stiff in my grasp. “Still, my colleagues will make sure the creature’s tended to, as well as locked securely until we can determine why it acted so violently. Meanwhile, I’ll be escorting the both of you to the hospital. Can’t be too careful, after all.” Before I could object, he went on with, “I’m sure you understand.”

Oh, right. A mother would typically be expected to react unreasonably concerned for her child in my situation. And since that was the role which I’d best take on in this particular situation, I figured I should act the part, unless I wanted to give myself away.

To my eternal fortune, however, I did not need to concern myself with that dilemma for long at all, as a familiar voice rang out, its source approaching from the rear. “That won’t be necessary, officer. I can make sure my sister arrives home safely.”

‘Drat.’

Surely enough, the guard, together with everyone else in the area, offered deep, courteous bows towards where I heard my sister speak from. I sighed and turned around. Finding my ever-protective sister here, most likely in response to feeling my energy flaring earlier, I decided it was pointless to try to keep my and my charge’s disguises any further at this point.

I turned back into my old appearance, luckily I had the foresight to equip my apparel anyway. Predictably, everyone around gasped in shock, however they were not taken aback by me in particular.

“Luna,” Tia drew my attention allarmingly, approaching whilst pointing at my charge.

There was the subtle sound of bell chimes. He was staring at the blood, which was now running along the marble towards us. He stretched out a hoof towards it. I jumped and hurried away, holding him tightly while I did so.

I turned him towards me, but he did not respond, as if in a trance. His eyeless sockets were opened, an eerie red glow emanating from within.

“Are you alright?” I asked him. No response. “…Answer me! My child! Talk to me, please!”

He seemed to have heard me that time, as he shook his head clear of whatever he was experiencing. The curious sound of chimes and the red glowing of his eyes ceased. He lowered his eyelids back down, an obviously confused look on his face. “What did you call me?” he asked, genuinely at a loss.

I sighed out in relief. “Don’t do that! You scared me half to death!”

“I did?” he asked, rubbing the side of his head. “What did I do? I seem to have blacked out for a moment there.”

I looked back to the now motionless bloodstain on the marble. Tia approached, and spoke, “Perhaps we can look into it safely at some point in the future. For now, I think we need a little time to clear our heads.”

We didn’t want to cut our day short so quickly, but it couldn’t be helped. Perhaps next time. I didn’t even get the chance to introduce him to donuts…

Celestia teleported us back to the castle, not wanting to hear any objections. She was very persistent in keeping us as safe as possible. I presumed she might’ve been a bit upset over what happened. In that respect, when I brought up whether we could visit any of our cities today in order to show him how our subjects lived, she would not hear any of that either.

I briefly considered that this must be how my charge feels about being supervised and held against his will. I'm certain he'll appreciate us sneaking out tonight. We shall feast on the delectable dough holes yet!

We appeared in my sister’s study. Apparently Tia was busy signing forms when she sensed my power spiking. Early in the morning, and she already had a stack of papers waiting for her. I would feel sorry for her, if I didn't know she actually enjoyed the chore… Anyway, we had a few things to talk about, so she asked her aide to leave the chamber while we discussed what just happened. While… ugh… Quill-Something? While her aide was clearing her documents, Tia sat down behind her desk and beckoned us to sit across fron her.

Before either I or my sister could initiate the conversation, my charge started, “Alright, tell me. Exactly how much damage does a lethal amount typically consist of around here?”

It took me a while to understand what he was talking about. “Much more than what it took for me to break that wretched creature’s skull, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“That’s not it. You were supposed to be sliced in half in that initial attack, at least if you were a regular human. However, you emerged without even a scratch. What, does your kind have mithril-lined pelts or something?”

There was a sense of horror steadily growing in my throat. I knew what he was getting at, but I was reluctant to follow that train of thought to the end. Celestia regarded me with not small amount of concern, then eyed my charge carefully, “A regular pony can be whipped by a manticore’s tail with nary a bruise to tell the tale, not to speak of the naturally resilient earth pony, who could technically be flattened by a dragon and just bounce back out with not much more than a few bruises and aching joints. An alicorn’s resilience is… harder to measure, as it varies according to their tier and attunement to their affinity. Suffice to say, you could drop a mountain on us out of nowhere and we’d survive without that much trouble.” She paused, steel in her eyes, before continuing, “What about humans?”

“Well, I don’t know about any mountains, but there is this one record of the first recorded murder of a human. It was by his brother, which merely brought a respectably large rock, no larger than a forearm was long, to the back of his sibling’s head, in a tantrum. He didn’t even mean to kill his brother, since death was as-of-yet unheard of back then. Or so the tale goes, at least.”

Tia’s eyes went a little colder at that, but still she wanted to make sure. “…Pardon? A rock?”

I held him a little closer. He seemed to notice, but said nothing of it. He just went on, “…Yes, a rock. Hell, let’s be generous and say that it was a very sharp rock that the farmer used. Perhaps the stone on his plough? Regardless, he didn’t really need the addition of the stick connected to the stone, but whatever helps you sleep at night. Honestly, even a rock thrown by a skilful-enough slinger could kill quite effectively, then again there are always bows, spears and crossbows. Regarding being flattened by a dragon, however, I don’t think I heard of any records of any human, dwarf, elf or other, surviving the experience. Except for that one druid that one time… No, wait. He reincarnated. Nevermind.”

I have to confess that neither I nor my sister focused our study of his race beyond a general, perspective view. We did not force ourselves through studying any instances where they’d… died. We only deemed it sufficient to agree that they were just a very violent race, only a slight ways away from our gryphons in likeness in that respect.

A rock to the back of the head. We just assumed that they were more resilient. We had no reason to think otherwise, how could we have known otherwise?! It was unthinkable that it took just this much to kill one of them! It takes a boulder to injure a pony, and it wouldn’t even be anything that they couldn’t recover from afterwards! It takes falling at terminal velocity for a pegasus to break their wing, which only contains their very thinnest bones! But what is a rock?! What is a human left to assume of their lives if it could be taken so easily?!

Celestia wanted to try to find an explanation.

“I am sorry, we were not aware of any of this. The only explanation I can offer is that our magic preserves us, while yours did not offer any such kindness. It would seem that you were left completely without any protection beyond your biology.”

“So, what? You can get literally flattened by a boulder, and somehow retain your original shape afterwards?”

“Well… yes.” (**)

“What about stab wounds?” his tone remaining as even as it had been since this topic arose.

“If we aren't killed immediately, our bodies are aided by our magic. Make no mistake, we can die, it's just less easy. If, however, we are at the point where we're dying, we still have an organ as a last preventive measure, preserving our mind and memories for a limited time.”(***) He was about to object further, but Celestia hadn’t finished. “There’s also the matter of Windygos.”

“…What?”

On queue, Tia’s horn lit up and an image of the spirits in question appeared in front of us. “Spirits drawn to hatred and violence. They tend to haunt ponies with an explicit desire to shed blood, should they catch their scent. The more hatred, the more prevalent the scent, so a pony who intends on taking a peer’s life would be quite irresistible.” For emphasis, the images depicted the shadows representing two ponies, one wielding a knife in a threatening manner around the other’s back. The culprit lifting the weapon to strike, but being imprisoned in ice as soon as the knife started being brought down. “The common Windygo freezes any pony it comes across, instinctively, so as to preserve their source of hatred indefinitely… unless they’re enraged.”

“And what if they’re enraged?” he asked, just as unreadable.

Tia sighed. “It’s about how a Windygo is created. You see, when any one of our pony race dies violently, their souls cannot know rest and they seek out vengeance, every time.” Another image appeared, only this time the knife landed, and the second pony dissolved into a far larger, more menacing ethereal shape. The culprit was not encased in ice, instead being turned to ice themselves, then shattered, the sounds of screaming only intensifying after that.

“So around here, Wendigos are created through murder? Where I’m from, they are created through cannibalism.”

“…I think I’m ill,” I went.

“I am not surprised,” my colt answered shortly, nonplussed.

Tia asked, “You seem to be taking this well.”

“How am I supposed to react to the revelation that, unlike mine, your race actually seems to live above the natural law? All I can say is, I am surprised that you didn’t overpopulate by now.”

“…Right. About that." Tia traced a hoof to the side of her mouth reluctantly, looking to the side. "You see, unlike humans, ponies run on a mating season, once every ten years. We also happen to have a longer lifespan.”

My charge seemed to have had enough. He finally burst out of being unreadable, giving in to the restlessness and tension that had been gathering underneath the surface. “Okay! So, this particular conversation line seems to be having trouble dying in excruciating agony, so I’ll just take the liberty of killing it myself! There, it’s dead! We have better things to discuss right now! We were talking about the beast that attacked us today!”

“Oh, right," I offered, less in a tone of recollection and more in one of uneasiness. "You were asking how I didn’t get sliced in half by that beast.”

“The Snallighast,” he offered, studying me persistently.

“…But that was not a Snallygaster, however,” my sister offered to correct.

“There you go as well,” he replied, turning to face her in turn.

The colt decided he finally had enough of the close proximity and bound off on top of the desk. “You say Windygo, I say Wendigo. You say Snallygaster, I say Snallighast. Let me throw a random idea out of nowhere now. We both have different versions of the wintry spectre, perhaps we also have a different version of the multi-tongued bird crossed with a lizard with hooked talons and only one eye as well? Perhaps your language link is trying to point out that we're not really talking about the exact same creature after all?”

My sister went again, “Around these parts, this particular member of the wyvern family is far less… well, disturbing than the creature you two have faced. However, I can’t say for certain that it doesn’t present a distinct resemblance to our own version, despite its larger size and general appearance. Wouldn’t you agree, Luna?”

I nodded, and my colt retorted, “The Snallighast is part of the ghast family. Ghouls with spectral abilities, including phasing through solid structures and becoming invisible. If I were to guess, your version is simply a two-legged creature with dragon-like characteristics, literally the description of a wyvern, correct?…”

I nodded, and Tia replied, “Yes, you are. I would also like to offer my own random idea, if you don’t mind.”

“Speak your mind,” he allowed.

She lit up her horn and her desk was split in two halves. The left side had a hoof track next to the line in the middle, and the right side had a palm track in a mirroring position. On the left side appeared many magical beasts’ silhouettes from our world, two of which were highlighted. “I believe that there might possibly be a connection between all of these differences, which our scholars might be able to find.”

“Or maybe there isn’t, and they would be wasting their time on your behalf. Or perhaps there are actually multiple different elements setting our two worlds apart. Just this morning I found out from Luna that you have a Dreamworld acting as a buffer between this realm and the realm of the dead. We don’t have any such realm to speak of.”

“Good to know,” Tia replied, and jotted new information down on a note. “And even if they would be wasting their time, they would be doing so in in my service, on my money. So it’s my choice to make.”

“Suit yourself. Mind at least explaining why you’re so anxious to throw away your money?”

“Oh!” she laughed warmly. “How silly of me! I forgot to explain, it was the random idea I mentioned that I came across. I just thought, randomly, that perhaps your Necromancy might also work differently from ours? It was something I wondered since I couldn’t quite explain that little display of yours during your blackout minutes ago, and considering there are no records of any Necromancers as talented as yourself in our world, then perhaps your advanced affiliation would manifest differently here than in your original world?”

To his credit, my colt only remained taken aback very briefly. “You’re talking about reverse-engineering not only the mechanisms behind both human and equine magic, but also about me teaching you the intricacies of my art which I’ve gathered over a century and a half.”

“That I am.” And to Tia’s credit, she remained as calm and collected as though she had just merely asked someone to pass the salt at the table.

My colt did not seem amused in the slightest. What he said afterwards, however, took me off guard. Only me, however.

“Tell you what. How about you remove this seal off of me, and maybe I’ll consider it?”

Author's Notes:

Yes, that seal. Now you know what they're talking about in the next chapter.

(*) They use the Equestrian system, not the imperial nor the metric one. So, strides. There are a lot of other technicalities which I'd like to set straight here as well. Logically, Equestrians were not supposed to have chess either, or donuts, and they were also supposed to have words that did not have equivalents through direct magical translation between Equish and… whatever Necky’s language was. Also, the ponies weren’t supposed to have the decimal system either, since they didn't have ten fingers. Needless to say, I refused to be bothered with all of that crap.

That doesn't mean there wasn't a good reason for them hidden in there after all. Let's just say that chess is so popular that it's a dimensional recurrence, like Troll Will Smith. Actually, yeah, it would be a crime to insinuate otherwise! It would actually be an even worse crime to create a world without donuts, however.

Seriously now, Luna's language link translates meaning, not literal translations (no, duh, otherwise we'd be looking at Google-Translate-level grammar), and said language link also translates numbers as well. Expect Luna asking Necky about his choices in numbers, however. "Why 5?" or "Why 10?". That sort of thing.

(**) Yes, I’m going there. They can get flattened in a cartoonish fashion, as well as withstand some respectable amounts of physical trauma on the side. Most importantly, however, they can resist magic, including being levitated to some degree, and having their brains telekinetically crushed or teleported out of their skulls.

I also wanted to try explaining Pinkie a bit too. Long story short, she has the rare ability to harness that ‘cartoonishness’ for the sake of cheering her peers up because not only does she herself actually depend on it psychologically (“Party of One”), but depression is a very real danger that she’s countering. Plus, apparently this is an idyllic world because people and their happiness really do matter more than nature here, unlike the natural order of eat or be eaten which governs ours, and Necky’s world; the latter of which happens to be a lot more like ours, which is an issue because that means that dragons do not actually have the same convenient gem-based diet as they do in Equestria. Or whatever the name of this world is. I already gave a name to it in my other story, but that thing's an A.U. anyway. Let's just call these two worlds Not-Equus and Not-Earth respectively for now, because Equus is a retarded name that presents the same problem as saying "everypony". Sure, they're the most wide-spread and diverse race on the planet, but that doesn't mean anything! They're still outnumbered more than 20 to 1 when it comes down to comparing all the Equestrian and Maneland ponies, Zebras, Seaponies, Thestrals, Orientals and so on, against the TOTAL POPULATION of the planet, not even counting dragons and all of their variations.

Back on track. Royal guards are often seen wielding spears. That’s a valid issue which has been bothering me. Let’s just say that they all receive specialized training in non-lethal takedowns, as well as lethal ones. You know, kind of like how most armies and police-s train their recruits. We can also say that, same way Applejack can use telluric energy to drop all of the apples out of a tree and land every single one in the baskets below, so too can the guards sort of enchant their spear’s tips to be either more blunt, or to hurt more when they smack silly civilians with the cane, or make the tip sharper when some pesky changelings decide to invade.

Or we can just say that there’s an unwritten ‘take no life’ rule going on. Less in order to avoid creating a spectral fiend that would otherwise almost never fail to rip them apart for creating the vengeful spirit in the first place; and more in order to avoid bringing about another Cold Age. There's a reason why the Crystal Empire is still surrounded by tundra. Sombra fed off of the hatred and fear which he inspired in his subjects, something which understandably attracted every single vengeful spirit in the continent.

I’m not sure what manner of vengeful spirit each individual race has, however. All I have is variations of the Windygo for equine creatures and Hellhounds for Diamond Dogs. I'm also not against giving the latter a fiery elemental orientation.

The Royal Guard are more in service for the purpose of disaster control, than anything else. Hydras, “Constellations” like the Ursa Major, “want it, need it” spells, rampaging Spikes… you get the idea. They might also find plenty use in maintaining the law. They can protect and serve without killing.

(***)Sort of a magical black box. What, they have magic that they use to heal wounds and the sort, why wouldn't they have magical safety nets as part of their anatomy? Did you think those heads were so big just to be cute? That would be just plain ridiculous. Ridiculous, I say!
It's right under where the horn usually sprouts out, between the brain hemispheres. I think there's a hindu-acupuncture-spiritual-pressure-point thing going on around where the horn pokes out as well, but I don't really know for sure... anywho! They can get stabbed to death, bleed out, they can even drown. I'm totally not drawing on straws here, trying to figure out how to justify the existence of magic and mythos. Having entire species get wiped off the face of the planet if a demigod-tier entity felt especially uppity one morning, or if some legendary-level magical martial arts master decided to reshape the layout of a few maps just 'cause.

Exasperation aside, now you know why their heads are so big. It’s most certainly not because they’re smart. They have a section of the brain, which I have no intention of naming, in the fronter-middle of said wrinkly organ, right next to the hypothalamus, the optical chiasm (Wikipedia's your friend!) and has some say in whatever the fuck lets them use magic.

I understand this might be a bit of a curve ball... Even though no one would really pull a Naruto in one of the stories on this site, be all foot-in-the-grave and still keep going. That's not saying I'm planning on doing anything like that, though. If someone gets stabbed in the leg, they're not using that thing in the next few days, unless they use necromancy... which is why I'm going to have to add a very severe drawback to using necromancy. Some kind of magical Necrosis maybe... Did you know, scar tissue is actually a lot shittier than the tissue it replaces? Cause it is, and Necromancy does NOT create life. It merely offered Necky the means to make due.

---

I see most of you like the idea of bright yellow eyes like the sun. Very well, sounds good to me. Let's have the embarrassing fawning happen. Also, I'll apparently have his eyes turn different colors under certain circumstances. Apparently they glow red when he smells tasty, tasty blood nearby. I assure you, however, that he is not a vampire. It really is just his necromancy acting wonky on his new fuel. It has to do with Thestrals 'n shit. The reason his head didn't go 'POP!' when he blacked out there was because his defensive seals weren't even triggered. He actually de-synched with his body because he was encountering issues with recognizing his own body anymore, hence the blackout.

I need to keep reminding myself that this is a story about Necky and Luna's chemistry, not a story about me talking about a story about Necky and Luna's chemistry. I wrote >2k words that I needed to shelve just by making the first 6 lines of this chapter. I didn't even touch on them in the author's notes! I could just go on and on about the rationale behind what happened last chapter, and get a freaking thesis paper in the end. I suppose it's a good thing to have as many words to choose from as possible, however. It just gets really freaking disorganized. I have four different Word docs titled 'Notes', 'Reminders', 'More reminders' and 'Even mnore reminders'. I am dead serious. There's also a doc called 'Scraps' which I have not opened once since I reinstalled Windows last summer. I have no idea what's written in there.

I figured out what his cutiemark is going to be in the end. I took a while of deliberation until I finally decided on what I'd find fitting for him.

Finally, here's a thing that exists. It's a mediocre band, though, if you ask me. I give it a generous 6.5, personally. BUT HEY, THE ALBUM'S CALLED AFTER THE MAGICAL BEAST THAT I MENTIONED, even though I don't remember the lyrics ever mentioning the birdosaurus creature once. Feel free to not listen at all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yka-nEiTG6g