What Lies Beneath

by fic Write Off

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 19452

Write-off - What Lies Beneath - Minific contest

What lies beneath the minds of Ponychan's /fic/? A quick little contest to get those creative juices rolling set them the task of writing short stories—between 300 and 600 words. These are the resulting stories.

More details:
- http://www.ponychan.net/chan/fic/res/119728.html
- http://writeoff.rogerdodger.me

Published 2012-09-25 16:54:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-25 16:54:01 UTC

Teacher's Pet

Cheerilee shoved the stack of tests to the corner of her desk so they’d be easier to grab with her mouth. It’d be so much quicker if this were one of the older classes. She could ask a unicorn to pass them out, but her class was too young for that.

“Good job on the spelling test!” she said, distributing the pages. “Nopony missed more than two. We just have a math worksheet to do, and then it’s time for recess!”

Apple Bloom clapped her hooves and leaned over to whisper something to Sweetie Belle, but Cheerilee pretended not to notice. She also conveniently ignored Diamond Tiara’s attempts to call attention to the infraction.

Cheerilee wove her way back through the aisles to pass out the worksheets. One spare desk sat a bit apart from the rest, and Cheerilee smiled at its occupant when she placed the last paper there. She winked, getting a little giggle back from the burgundy-maned, cream-colored filly.

After returning to her desk, she gazed around the room in the near silence and grinned at her surroundings: the soft scratch of pencils against paper, a faint taste of chalk in her mouth... and a quick whiff of rubber as a student furiously erased something off his page. She watched the minutes tick by, never losing her faint smile. “Alright, children!” she said finally. “You can finish after playtime! Everypony outside!”

Scootaloo shot out of her seat. “Dibs on the merry-go-round!”

Chuckling as she waved the rest of the class out the door, Cheerilee waited for the one straggler, the filly from the desk off by itself. She beamed at her teacher, nuzzling her neck as they trotted out to the playground. Once they had gotten out near the swings, Cheerilee sat on her haunches and listened to all the wonderful chatter and squeals. “Why don’t you go play with the other children?” she asked her companion. “You can, you know.”

The filly just shook her head and lay down in the grass.

“Miss Cheerilee, can you give us a push?” called Apple Bloom.

Cheerilee glanced at her little shadow and answered, “Not right now. I bet Scootaloo could. She gets that scooter going pretty fast.”

“Oh yeah,” replied Scootaloo. She buzzed her wings, spinning the merry-go-round faster and faster to the delighted screeches of the half-dozen children on board.

Cheerilee scrunched up her nose and grinned at her follower. “You sure?” The filly just closed her eyes and leaned into Cheerilee’s side.

When the final bell had rung and all of the students had left, Cheerilee went about tidying her classroom. She was dusting off the chalkboard when she heard a quiet voice behind her.

“M-Miss Cheerilee?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Why do you sometimes talk to yourself on the playground? And why do you always put an extra paper at that empty desk? We’re... worried.”

Cheerilee frowned a little, then looked back to where the cream-and-burgundy filly sat smiling in her seat. She sighed and turned to face the Cutie Mark Crusaders. “I told you once how I got my cutie mark and found a love for teaching...”

Apple Bloom nodded and sat on her haunches, grinning in anticipation of a story.

“I wasn’t a teacher yet. You have to go to a special school for that. By the time I graduated, I had a little one of my own—you could say she was my first student.” Her dewy eyes strayed toward the window.

“W-was?” Scootaloo asked.

Cheerilee sighed again before donning a warm smile. “Yes. My little Joy. Let me tell you about her...”

Hot Shot and Hugh Jelly in JaAm Adventures

One a day, Hot Shot and Jam Coptor were flow through space.

"WhY mY whEelS HUrT?" said Hot Shot, and amcelerate. This make him goes through faster space to star portal where come out on Equestira others side

Hot Shot feel the JaAm Force comes fron itt this is why he go there.

"mUSt FinD jAaAaaAM!: crod GHot Shot as emter antofsere. It was heat but he hasd heat shiled to protecnt

also his name Hont shoot so he is fire emelent and a car

Hot Shot yellow car lan'd on Esqestria and see ponis!

"This nOt jAm!" hot Shot transformed inot robot he big an boom on ground with fot. Al ponys run away eccept for gray stallon he had yellow mane like Derpy but boy poni and has creep face.

"helo my name is HUGH JELLY" told Hugh Jelly. "I heared you like jaAm."

Hot Shot smile mirthly. "YeSsSsSS jAaM"

Hugh Jelly smild an ersply "tak ym hof & well go on jam adventures."

Hugh Jelly go into Hot Shot car ofter him transform and JaM Coptor (he uninterest of jAaM but had no chose) fly behind they go for JaAm Adventures acrops Equlandofponies.

In dark plac was bad guys happen on evil plan.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!" laughed they with evil. "Weell destroy Hot Shott for ones of all!"

Meanwile Hugh and Hot find big Jelly City borth of Equestria overun by evil jam changelings they lik regulare changeling but into jelly so Huh jump out Hot Shot who barel role and transform into robot he fall with fist to jam changelings and stomp with shockwave force. Jely shout, " you bad guys, go away of here!" and bad guy went away and jelly ponies rejoins. Hopot Shot and Hugh Jelly gets jelly reward but Hot Shot isnont satisfication.

"neEd mOaR JAaM!"

Ground isshake and burst up more bad guys!!!

"Oh noez!" shocked Hugh Jelly "Its Megatron and Nightmaremoon!"

"We are create a team and fight you laughed evil bad guies "for great powers of jAm!"

Megatorn shot canon and Hot Shot was boom! Nightmar Moond laugh and throw lightning to Hugh Jelly he cry Oh!"No" then fal like dead.

Bad guys laugh and cloze into finish both two heroes when sudenly JaM Coptor go! He pucnh Megantron and Nigthare Moon faces! They cry &fall ground "No! This cantot happen! Tie of our finial from!"

They up into final boss form with wings horns & guns & metal and Hugh and Hot Shopt wake up,

"Now it is final batle!"

Hot Shot form with Jam Coptor and make big canonn on sholder he fire and Hugh Jelly jump and throws jam,of bottle. At bad guys make large expolsion with bullets but Hot Shot fire weak point then bad finnal formis kaboom!!!ed!

"Now we are win," delcar Huhg.

"nO" think Hot Shot theres is more"

Gromd shak & fall intop pit beneath Jam Citiy where is Smooze lurks

"Nothing cans top the Smoooze" sing Smooze.

"finally" say Hot Shots' joy "jAaM EnOugH aT LaSt"

"No!" Hugh holed up hoof "You wil died!"

Hot shot toss Hugh to surface then eat all Smozoe jam forever.,

It were sad sday on Canternlot alk Ponies cryed they was funneral for Hosh Tot amd Celestina pray youlogy

"Here lize Hot Shot, gortenst worrier from Autubott, who saev are ponies. kthxbye."

Hugh jelly thoughts of his friend. There was sky vision and Hot Shot there.

"Do not sad, Hugh. I all ways with you in spirit, for JaAm Force strong of you. Go now, to epic Jam Adventures!"

And that is what Hugh Jelly dod.

The Cost of Truth

"I can't do it anymore. I just can't. I need to tell them the truth."

Atop the hill near Ponyville, two black creatures stood under the moonlight. One of them—a male—moved towards the other—a female—and placed a black foreleg on her shoulder.

“Why the change of heart?”

“I... just can’t keep lying to her. It... it doesn’t feel right.” She looked downwards towards her house in Ponyville, lost in memories with her loved one. “Not to her...”

He leaned closer. “I’d recommend thinking it over a bit. Once you tell her, everything will change. Then you’ll regret it and you won’t be able to go back.”

She pushed off her friend's foreleg. "I don't care. If she hates me for telling the truth, then so be it." Pointing towards the house where her mate lived, she smiled. “It might seem silly, but I want her to love me for me. The real me. No more secrets. No more lies.”

He shook his head. "She'll hate you, you know. All ponies eventually do. We're not like them, and that makes them afraid." He tapped his chest with his appendage. "Our only purpose is to feed, nothing more. We changelings weren't meant to love, and you need to accept that. The most you’ll ever get is underneath a disguise, because if you show your true form to them, they’ll just run away.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, before continuing. “I’m telling you, If you tell them the truth, they’ll reject you. Your cover will be compromised and they won't love you anymore. You'll starve."

Frowning, she looked deep into his eyes. “I said I don’t care.”

With a sigh, he released her. "If you say so. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

She turned away from him and stared at the moon. "She said she’d stay by my side no matter what. I want to believe that. If nothing else, I... just want to feel like the love I'm getting is real

"It's not. That's the love of the form you impersonated. That love you feel, it’s not real. It may feel real, but it isn’t. For you, there is none." He fiddled with his hooves. "I'm sorry, that's just how it has to be."

"I can't accept that. If I can get love—true love—then I'll be able to finally be at peace. No matter what happens, I'll have no regrets." She turned around and stared her friend in the eye. "Besides, I know she loves me."

He remained silent, unsure of what to say. When he didn’t answer, his friend turned to leave and he reached out. “Wait.”

“What is it?” She turned around, raising an eyebrow.

He opened his mouth and tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to his mind. She tilted her head at him, her ears flicking back and forth.

“Just... just be careful, okay?”

“I will.” After a quick bow, she slowly trotted towards the center of Ponyville.

He watched her travel down the hilltop path. "For your sake, I hope you're right," he muttered.

As she was walking away, a stream of light appeared and disseminated through her body, replacing her black appendages with a familiar looking mane. Underneath her disguise once more, she smiled and nodded her head. “I believe in her. If anypony would still love me, it would definitely be her.” She whistled and bobbed her head, her pink and blue curls swaying in the wind.

Wings of an Angel

“What are you—a chicken?” Scootaloo said in a mock sing-song voice. She was clambering her way up a steep slope, mumbling to herself. “Chicken, huh? I'll show them.” Her tiny hooves awkwardly grasped at rocks as she pulled herself up the mountainside. She grunted as she lifted herself onto a small plateau. The rock felt chill against her back as she sat on her haunches, resting.

Her breathing was ragged, and she was dripping with sweat. With one hoof to placed above her brow, she scanned the sky. There was not a cloud in the sky. She licked her lips as a toothy grin spread across her face. Taking a deep breath she stood and dusted herself off.

She heaved herself up and continued climbing. Her weak muscles strained under the pressure. Exhaling with each thrust, she moved slowly but surely, higher.

Within a few minutes, she had reached the penultimate rock. Its craggy surface was the last obstacle. She cracked her neck and ruffled her feathers. With the combination of her hooves pulling herself up and the beating of her wings to provide a small amount of lift, she was finally able to crest the massive stone.

When she had reached the top, she threw herself down, splaying out on the hard slab. She rolled on to her back and stared up at the sky. She closed her eyes and basked in the sun's warm rays for a few moments—her chest slowly heaving up and down—before rolling back over. Her rosy mane was sticky with sweat; it stuck to her cheeks like glue. She shook her head, showering the rocks with salty water.

She inched towards the edge of the cliff, peering over the precipice. Her heart skipped a beat. The ground seemed so far away. The trees were merely green sticks in the distance. She felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, taking a few steps back. “I came this far,” she said firmly. Her face contorted into a look of determination. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. She bit her lip, shuffling her feet. “Okay,” she said finally. “I'm ready.”

Clenching her eyes shut, she galloped towards the edge, flapping her tiny wings as hard as possible.

She jumped.

For a brief moment, she felt as if she were floating. She opened one eye slowly, then the other. Looking around, she saw the vast blue sky in front of her. A smile cracked across her face.

Then—she fell.

As quickly as her joy had come, it left her, replaced by sudden fear. She flapped her scrawny wings with all her strength. Her heart raced as she plummeted towards the ground. She shut her eyes fearfully, turning her body in a futile attempt to cushion the impact. She waited for the inevitable, wondering what it was going to feel like. Tears flew past her in the wind.

She felt herself stop suddenly. She opened her eyes slowly, sure that she had hit the ground by now.

A multitude of colors waved in front of her. She could feel soft, blue fur beneath her. She no longer felt as though she were falling. Rather, she felt as if she were rising.

“Rainbow—Dash?” she said slowly.

Rainbow glanced over her shoulder, a smirk adorning her muzzle. “Don't worry, squirt,” she said reassuringly. “I've got you.”

Scootaloo's eyes watered; tears streamed down her cheeks moistening her fur. She leaned down wrapping her hooves around Rainbow's neck. She nuzzled her warmly.

“Thank you.”

Lyra's Potential

As sprinkles of rain pelted against the classroom window, Lyra sighed. The teacher droned on relentlessly about mathematical equations while Lyra's eyelids began to droop.

Thoughts about performing onstage in front of hundreds of ponies drifted through her mind. Becoming famous, having adoring fans, and most of all, being able to create and perform beautiful music, that was the life.

Looking over at the teacher, Lyra found that the only thing coming out of her mouth was gibberish. Try as she might, Lyra just wasn’t interested in learning about math. Steadily, she could feel her face sagging as she did her best to block the teacher’s lecture out of her head. Instead, she dreamed about becoming one of the best musicians in Equestria.

Bam!

A sharp pain thrust through Lyra’s head.

“Lyra!” Miss Notation glared at her.

“Huh, what, what?” Lyra’s head had slipped, slamming into the desk. Her forehead throbbed, her heart racing at a hundred miles per hour as Lyra looked back at the scowling teacher.

“Err, sorry.”

“What did I tell you about sleeping in my class?”

“I… I wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes and my hoof slipped.” Lyra beamed at Miss Blank with the most innocent smile she could muster.

Miss Notation sighed and shook her head. “Nice try. See me after class.”

Lyra shrugged.

Miss Blank turned around and continued her lecture. “Now then, could somepony tell me the answer to this question?” She glared at Lyra again. “Somepony’s that been paying attention, perhaps?”

Lyra rolled her eyes and looked out the window again. As she watched a single droplet slide down the window, she sighed.

“Is something wrong?” After class, when everypony had left, Miss Notation came over and sat next to Lyra. She stared at her with a piercing gaze.

“No.”

“Then why do you keep falling asleep in class? Do you find me boring?”

Lyra remained silent.

“If you don’t pay attention, you won’t be able to get good grades, or a good job, or—”

“I don’t care!” Lyra stood up, surprised by her own sudden bravado.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I don’t care. Who needs it anyway? I’m going to become the best musician in Equestria!”

Miss Notation’s mouth gaped open for several seconds before she came to her senses. “Hmpf.” Miss Notation stood up and towered over her. “You? Don’t make me laugh.”

“What?” Lyra gasped.

Miss Notation squinted her eyes. “Lyra, you’re nearly failing this class. At the rate you’re going, you won’t be able to become a musician, let alone the greatest anything.”

Miss Notation walked to the front of the room and sat at her desk. “If you can’t even make it through a simple math class like this, how do you think you’ll be able to make it in the real world? You may as well kiss your dreams goodbye if you don’t shape up.” She sighed as she added, “You’re dismissed.”

Lyra’s ears lay flat on her head and she raised a hoof, but she thought better of it and remained silent. Her shoulders deflated as she stared at the floor. Grabbing her bookbag and throwing it over her back, she drifted towards the exit.

As Lyra put her hoof on the door, Miss Notation spoke up. “You have a lot of potential, Lyra. Don’t waste it.”

After shutting the door behind her, Lyra paused for a minute. Looking back, she saw Miss Notation cradling a picture in her hooves. Instead of her trademark scowl, her face was sullen. A tear streamed down her face.

“I won’t. You’ll see.”

Darkness

Darkness.

It defined the caverns that honeycombed their way underneath Canterlot. The smell of must, the ghostly echoes of her hoofsteps, the unyielding stone walls, the taste of stale air, it just accented the darkness.

Luna was not afraid. She was Princess of the Night. She was the darkness.

Or at least, that was what she kept telling herself. That the darkness was her domain, that everything that laid in its veil was for her and her alone to preside over. Which was why the Voice, despite coming from the deepest, darkest place of them all, so irked her.

Leave us be. We are not yours to command. Even your sister, always so ambitious, saw the wisdom in letting us rest.

Another thing that irked her–the comparisons to her sister.

“We are different from her. Mine sister walks only in the light, while We–“

Cower in the shadows, afraid to impose on her splendor.

Stone cracked beneath her. “If thou hadst a tongue We would cut it as loose as thou holds it!”

You prove that you fear what we say, then. Do all your ilk respond with such wrath upon presentation of truth unyielding?

Luna’s glare faded as the words sunk in. “We should hope not. We– I– apologize for my actions. Your words cut deep, but the cut was as sure and true as the keenest blade. Indeed, it is for the very reason you stated that I seek your power.”

You wish to overshadow your sister, but we are not the answer you seek, just as we were not your sister’s solution to the one known as Discord.

“Yes, but that is because she is your opposite!”

And a terrible price did she pay for that knowledge.

“Knowledge that lets me know I can control you, if you will let me. A body of flesh and blood, as you had so many eons ago, to feel the wind and taste the earth and smell the life and hear the cosmos and touch the living. You cannot tell me that you do not yearn for these things, and all I ask in return is your assistance.”

And nothing will dissuade you from this path you’ve chosen? Leave now and let us return to our sopor if any doubts exist, for they will be realized.

“I harbour no doubts as long as you harbour no ill will.”

Then step forward and receive our blessing. Accept our power, let it suffuse your very essence, and we will give you what you wish for and nothing more.

She did so.

And screamed.

Ecstasy.

Regret.

Beauty.

Horror.

Strength.

Agony.

Her body crumpled. “What… what are you doing to me?” Luna gasped between fiery lances of pain.

We told you we were not yours to control. We told you we would fulfill your wish. We told you to have no doubts.

Bile seeped to the ground from ashen lips. “But I… I had none…”

Our power is for all that seek it. If you truly had no doubts then you would not have spared even a word. We cannot control who takes us, but we can control those that do.

“And what… what of my desire?”

We are bound to fulfill it. Your sister shall be overshadowed and cast into the unending darkness.

“No! That is… is not what I wanted!”

You wanted to be greater than her, nothing more. An easy request to realize.

“You lied!”

No. We laid, but we lie in wait no longer. Today, we rise.

The world swallowed her.

Darkness.

Sounds of Pattering

She said she’d never love me. That I was a fool, that I was a stallion that couldn’t dream of being with a maiden as fair as she, that what I lacked in looks at least was compensated with an even greater lack of talent. She laughed at me, her friends laughed at me. Everyone laughed a cacophony of cackles at the weakest pony in the whole town until everything was mute to me except their laughter.

But they’re not laughing anymore. I made sure of that, oh yes, the days came quick and fast that the name Black Hat meant something. A name that was feared, a name that was respected, a name that possessed weight on par with royalty itself, because to say it any other way was suicide. And it would be heard. Everything was heard in this town.

She was wrong—maybe I had been a talentless blankflank for years longer than everyone else, but I had talent—talent that most couldn’t even fathom in this sparkly world of goody-goods and law-abiding citizens, let alone use.

Ponies say my name with hushed tones, always looking over their shoulders, leery and anxious. “Black Hat hears everything,” they say, and I do. Even the softest of whispers are not muffled in this town. I know their secrets, every single one, from the littlest of white lies to the blackest deceit.

I used that knowledge against her. I listened, and I heard her fears, her thoughts, and her darkest desires. With but a single sentence, I broke her. I had found that one thing, that single inadequacy inescapable from all beings, and exploited it. She had been so surprised that a lowly being such as myself could even be capable of knowing such a thing. I still remember her face contorted in an innumerable number of unattractive wrinkles and laden with tears, finally as ugly as her interior. It was a beautiful moment.

When they finally found her, she had been gone from Equestria for a long, long time. “She’d done it herself,” they’d said, lying to each other on the surface, like a thin layer of cream on the surface of spoiled milk, but even then they knew the truth, what had really had happened.

Some tried to run once they’d figured me out. Smart ponies, poor life decisions—they should have known every tyrant has his lackeys, and I have mine. They came back, one way or another. Eventually they got with the program. Their sins were inescapable, repentance was neigh.

She said she’d never love me. But in the end, she did. They all did, every single one. They’d love me for the truth, and that’s what I gave them, and that’s what destroyed them inside and out.

Dog Days

Rover looked down from the hill towards the small pony town. The quaint little village disgusted him. How ponies could live up here with the sky yawning above them all the time, he couldn’t understand. Give him dirt and rocks any day. A small white and purple figure broke from the mass of the town and headed in his direction. Good, he thought, she’s coming back to the mines after all. He started to turn and warn his brothers of her approach when another figure caught his eye: a purple and green shape, much smaller than the pony. Rover hissed; the little beast could complicate things. They’d have to take him too this time, to make sure he didn’t raise an alarm. He loped down the hillside and into a surface tunnel he had dug minutes before. Sealing it behind him, he rapidly made his way to the gem fields.

The pony and dragon were chatting when they reached the open space of land the diamond dogs had seeded with a variety of gems. A glow of magic lit her horn, and she beamed even more, pointing a hoof at a spot on the ground. The dragon bounded forward and quickly dug into the soft ground. In moments he found the precious stones, and showed them to the pony. Upon further prompting, he dug deeper, finding even more. As the hole grew deeper, Rover grinned. It would be any moment, and the dragon would reach the pit they had hollowed out beneath the deposit of diamonds. There was a shout of surprise and fear, and the diamond dogs sprung into action. Rover went straight for the pony, trusting his brothers to ensure the dragon was ensnared as well. He leapt onto the mare’s back and wrapped a length of rope around her mouth. They wouldn’t fall for whining pony tricks anymore. After securing the muzzle, he took another length of rope and tied all four of her flailing limbs together. His task completed, he grinned wickedly and looked around. His brothers were singed; it seemed that the dragon had put up a good fight this time, but he was secured in a sack slung over Fido’s shoulder. “Good work brothers, now let’s take them down below. Once we’re safely hidden we’ll send some soldiers to smooth the ground here to hide our trail. No ponies are going to know what happened here.” His brothers laughed, and the pony’s eyes widened in horror. She wasn’t going to escape this time, and no friends could come and rescue here when they wouldn’t know where to look.

Blue, Green, Purple, Pink

Blue. Green. Purple. Pink. Every second of every hour of every day of every year of every millennium. Eternally shifting, never changing, always in my vision. And they wonder why I play pranks.

It was solidly pink once, my mane. Those were good days. Not so many ponies, my sister around, no jealousy tearing us apart. The skies were clear, the world fresh and full of promise. There was no façade to be cracked by weakness.

Blue.

Immortality and the trappings of godhood come with prices. Power affects us unpredictably. The Elements. Friendship. Love. Jealousy. Sadness.

Any emotions, really. Friendship is magical, after all. I banished her to the moon and the power overwhelmed me. It was a necessary restoration, to raise both sun and moon. The Elements made sure the balance was kept. I should have known, should have seen the signs that were there when we defeated Disord. It was a power that she had always desired.

Green.

Loneliness is hard on a young ruler. I was very young, and so ignorant. Of ponies, their needs, their lives. Generations passed in the blink of an eye that was too filled with colors to see them. I didn't want friends, only my sister.

They created so many things with their tiny, short lives. Sometimes they did it to please me. I missed it all. I sat on the balcony, willing the sun and moon to change position, and contemplated the few seconds of intervening twilight.

Purple.

I learned too late to appreciate ponies and what they have to offer. The burden of immortality places my heart in a tenuous position, yearning for companionship only to have love snatched away in the blink of an eye. Love is comfort, constancy. That constant cycle: birth, life, love death. It's enough to drive a pony crazy, as if my own cycles weren't already doing that.

My sister's return did not restore me, even though she raises the moon once more. The defeat of Nightmare Moon has only made things worse. Though I would not change having Luna back, only myself. Her return was like a glorious sunrise after a long night.

Pink.

I'm itchy in my skin. I cannot move but for twitching. I'm sure it's this hair. It's always there, always moving, and I can't help myself. Why reach out to a new friend when you can make them squirm? They try so hard, so very hard to please, in ways meaningless when compared to infinity. They're going to die anyway; why not have a little fun with them while they're here?

No, no, you mustn't say that, mustn't think it. You mustn't, you mustn't…

But I know it's not going to stop. No end until my end. It may even get worse. I'm trapped in my body, in my world, in my time. It's driving me crazy.

Help.

When You Go

Spike sat and looked out of the window of the old boutique. The glass was still coated with frost from the chill winter air, which the fireplace behind him did its best to combat. The moonlight filtered down onto the streets of Ponyville through the thin clouds above, but there was little but the empty streets to illuminate.

Ponies were always indoors earlier during the winter months, sometimes even before the sun went down. Spike didn't mind much though. The view was perfect with the glimmering jewels of Canterlot and Cloudsdale far-off in the distance, although they were hard to spot without a trained eye or telescope. He didn't leave often either, even after Rarity had the doors modified to accommodate his increased size. He had all he needed inside, with her.

“Spike.” He could hear Rarity’s voice coming from the bedroom. It still sounded as sweet as the day they had first met. “Are you going to come to bed now? You know you can't stay up looking out there forever.”

Spike turned away from the window, catching a short glimpse of the vacant library far down the street, obscured by a few buildings. It wasn't but a few years ago that he could see it clearly down the road, bright and shimmering, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. Twilight had not lost that quality with age. No one had really changed that much though, at least while they were around Spike.

Spike tried to hold back a sigh as he walked towards the door of Rarity's workroom. “I know, but I still like to look out and hope everypony else is looking back.” He placed another log into the fireplace before leaving the room, keeping the door ajar behind him.

“I'm sure they are, Spike, but you know we could move to Canterlot and you'd be able to see them up close more often. We still have the other house after all.”

Spike took his time getting to the bedroom, making sure that the other rooms were empty and that the lights were out. “You know I don't want to leave this place abandoned like the library. We have to stay.” He closed each of the doors along the way, and before long he arrived at the bedroom. It was a bit more spacious than when he'd arrived, like most of the rooms, but it wasn't going to be long before that extra work wouldn't be enough to let him stay.

“You can't hold onto it forever, Spike. We all have to move on sooner or later. You just have to keep your chin up and your chest out, no matter what happens.”

Spike walked around the room slowly, blowing the candles out one by one before he stood over the empty bed. Laying on its undisturbed covers was a silver locket with three gems around a dragon etched on its front. Spike picked it up delicately between his claws and opened the locket. Inside was a brilliant sapphire with an old photograph of Rarity underneath, and on the other side of the locket was Spike’s picture, covered by a ruby.

Spike closed the locket and clutched it in his claws as he crawled to the foot of the bed and curled up on the floor. He sighed as he felt the warmth of the fireplace drifting slowly into the room, soothing the bitter pain in his chest as he read the inscription on the back of the locket:

Spike,

For when I, or you, go.

Love always,
Rarity

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"Wait! Don't come in!"

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow and pressed an ear to the door. Shuffling... sounded like Twilight was throwing around her covers? “What do you mean don't come in? What, are you not decent or something?”

“Um, yes! Not decent.”

“Oh, right. Buck naked, I'll bet.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. Twilight wouldn't be able to see it, but Rainbow Dash was sure her sarcasm would be plenty apparent from her voice. “How could you possibly be doing anything that you wouldn't want me to see?”

She pushed the door open. There was a flurry of movement, and Twilight sat guiltily in bed, holding the blanket close to her chest.

“Seriously?” Rainbow Dash furrowed her brow. “Is there something I should know about? You got a rash going on or something?”

“I... No, there's no rash. I just, um, I'm feeling sort of...” Twilight looked so nervous that Rainbow Dash thought she could hear her marefriend's heart thumping.

And then she smelled it. That distinctive scent that always reminded Rainbow Dash of some very nice memories. She let out a long, mocking snort.

“Is THAT it? Come on! We've been living together how long and you're still embarrassed about that?”

“Um... Right! S-sorry, I know you like me being open and--” Twilight yelped as a blue bolt of pegasus suddenly flashed into bed on top of her.

“And I know you like having a few things open too.” Rainbow Dash's grin was wolfish. “Lucky for you I'm in the mood for some fun.”

She planted her hooves on either side of Twilight's head, but Twilight still looked scared. Rainbow Dash suddenly flipped from playful to concerned. “Twilight? Usually you love this kinda thing.”

Twilight nodded unconvincingly. “Oh, I do... Mm, Rainbow Dash, I love lying beneath you and--”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Don't give me that. Loyalty, remember? I don't want this to be just for me.” She leaned down and kissed Twilight at the base of her horn, which got a wonderful shiver out of her. “I love you, Twilight. I'd die for you. You know that.”

Twilight nodded and suddenly reached out to pull Dash into a tight, horizontal embrace. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, burying her face in Dash's shoulder. “I love you, Rainbow Dash. I'm sorry.”

Rainbow Dash ran a hoof comfortingly through Twilight's hair, trying not to let her confusion show. Twilight had some strange moments, but this was an odd one even for her. Rainbow Dash thought she heard a whimper, but from another room in the house. She raised her head away from Twilight and looked over her shoulder.

“Did you hear that?”

“No, I didn't. I mean—hear what?” Twilight seemed to shrink backwards into the bed. Rainbow Dash kept staring at the door, but she didn't hear or see anything more.

“Never mind. Now if you don't mind, I had been about to take care of the little problem of yours that I smelled on the way into this room...”

Twilight made a happy little noise as she rolled the sheets back with her magic Rainbow Dash snuggled close to her unicorn lover, and then Twilight pulled the blanket over their heads.

Underneath the bed, Rarity took her hoof out of her mouth and pressed her hooves against her ears instead. It didn't matter if she was crying now; the lovers in the bed above her wouldn't hear anything thanks to the noise they were making themselves.

Nothing

There’s a rumbling in my stomach as I enter the town. It’s a deep, ominous sound, but for now it’s just a sound, and I am thankful for that. There’s still time before the real rumbling starts.

I take the air in with a long, deep sniff. I smell flowers on the breeze, sweat on the backs of ponies and a faint scent of manure, which I wrinkle my nose at. I take a few more sniffs, and the real scents start flooding in. The scents of food.

There’s a particularly strong whiff of the stuff coming from an inviting, whimsical building. A sign identifies it as “Sugarcube Corner” as I trot inside, taking more brief sniffs of the air. The smell is good -- some days I can almost delude myself into feeding on it alone. Some days. Almost.

“Welcome to Sugarcube Corner, dearie, what can I get for you today?” asks a cheery voice from behind the counter, which I identify as belonging to a plump, pleasant-smelling mare.

“Just a... milkshake, please,” I ask, producing some bits from my saddlebag. “Chocolate.”

The mare takes my money with a smile. “Coming up!” she says. “You can take a seat so long, if you don’t mind.”

I don’t, and I sit down at the table nearest the counter, waiting for my milkshake. My forehooves drum against the table’s wooden surface absently.

“What’s wrong with your eye?” a young voice chirps.

I look down, surprised, to see a yellow filly blinking up at me. Ah, to be young and curious.

“Oh, nothing too serious,” I reply, patting the patch over my left eye. “Just have to wait for it to heal from a corrective operation for a few days, and then I’ll take the patch off and see better than ever.”

The filly cocks her head for a moment, but then nods and seems satisfied with my answer.

“Sunrise, stop annoying that poor stallion and come over... here...”

I look up at the filly’s mother as she says this, and see the last pony I ever expected to see again. Of course, I manage to hide the surprise from my face and the subtle glint of recognition from my eyes.

She doesn’t. I can see it quite plainly.

A silent moment passes, and then she speaks. “S-Sunrise, darling, why don’t you ask Mrs Cake if you can go upstairs and visit Auntie Pinkie?”

“Yay!” The filly gallops off in a hurry, and I’m left staring at Lily Blossom, eye to eyes.

“You didn’t change the eyepatch,” she says. “I’d recognise that eyepatch anywhere.”

I try to feign ignorance. “Madame, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lily Blossom just raises an eyebrow. “I can see it in your good eye too. Even if it’s green now. And in your movements. The way you looked up at me... only you lurch around like that.”

I sigh.

“I just want to know why.” Lily’s face turns from triumphant to fragile in an instant. “Why did you leave?”

It’s been long enough. I was rash back then. Now I don’t feel anything except hunger.

“I didn’t lose my eye in an accident at the factory,” I say, flipping up my eyepatch. “I didn’t lose it at all.”

Lily stares at my real left eye in horror. “Can’t you --”

“No. This is the consequence of trying to feed on my own love.”

“But why?”

I pause. “Because there was none. I couldn’t love you.” I say it without emotion, because there’s nothing inside of me.

Lily just cries.

Nemeses

Short, staggered breaths echoed through Dash's home as she continued to push herself. She made sure to call out her progress; it made her feel like someone was there watching and keeping track. “Ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four...” With each count, she lowered and raised her body with her front hooves, sweat dripping down onto the floor. It would have been easy to give in and use her wings to keep going, but she knew that wouldn't help her now. AJ would want no wings again this year.

Dash's legs and back shook as she neared her limit. “Ninety-eight... ninety-nine...” She stalled with her legs fully stretched. One more, she told herself, staring down at the floor. You can do one more. You can do two more! You have to keep going. AJ would keep going!

She lowered her body and tried to quickly push back up in an attempt to finish quickly, but her legs locked up. With a yelp of pain, she fell down onto the floor. Sweating and exhausted, she tried to get back on her hooves between jagged breaths, hearing Applejack in her thoughts. “Stop lazin' about there, Dash. You still got work to do if you wanna keep up!” AJ didn't sound right in Dash's head, but she had to do her best to imitate her voice when she needed it. It sounded like she was running away ahead of her.

“I'm not being lazy,” Dash grumbled as she finally managed to get back up, her forelegs still aching. She started to take off into the air, but stopped a few inches in the air and settled back down onto the floor. With a wince of pain, she walked into the kitchen. Stretching with each movement, she pulled a glass of juice from the fridge and sat down at the nearby table.

Taking small sips of juice, she looked at a calender posted on the wall in front of her. Half of the month's days were already crossed out, with a day towards the end circled in red. Next to it was a picture of Applejack with the word “nemesis” written underneath. She used to think that word was so negative when she heard it used in stories. That it was two enemies destined to destroy one another.

It only took Applejack to change her view of that. It was someone to keep you going, to keep you running, to make you make yourself better. It was something basic that was underneath all the negativity. It was a tool, and it needed a use to make it good or bad. Dash used her to be better, so that Applejack would try harder too. She knew she felt the same, that they needed each other.

Dash finished her glass and got up from the table, marking another day off from the calender. She looked closely at Applejack's picture, “Another day closer to the showdown, when they'll see what we are for each other, my nemesis. I hope you're not getting comfortable yet. I know I'm not.” With a smile, Dash trotted back into her workout room. The ache in her legs had vanished as she gained a renewed sense of vigor.

Noises

Twilight trotted down the streets, her mane and tail bouncing gleefully. The sun shined through the clouds, and all of Ponyville seemed to be out and about enjoying the weather. Spike rode on her back holding a checklist in one claw and a quill in the other.

“Okay,” said Spike. “We got quills.”

“Check,” responded Twilight and Spike scratched check mark onto the paper.

“And we spoke to Cheerilee about getting chalk.”

“Check.” Spike made another check mark.

“So that just leaves...” His voice trailed off as he read the list. Rolling his eyes, he said: “Get more owl food.”

“Check. I mean, right,” Twilight giggled.

“Uh huh,” Spike said slowly. “So, where are we gonna get owl food?”

“There's a place—” Twilight was interrupted by a sudden hissing from behind her.

“Twilight!”

Twilight spun around. Her and Spike's heads swiveled as they searched for the source of the voice.

“Up here.”

They craned their necks, looking up to the second story window where Pinkie Pie was hiding—just barely—behind the curtains.

“Pinkie?” said Twilight as she tilted her head to the side.

Pinkie inched out from behind the curtain and whispered down to them: “I need you. You have to come up here right now.”

Twilight glanced over her shoulder at Spike; he shrugged. She rolled her eyes then trotted up to the door. They stepped inside and headed upstairs. In the room furthest from them, they found Pinkie backed against a corner. Twilight's lips pursed, and her eyebrows rose. “Pinkie, what are you doing?”

Pinkie pointed to the door across from them. “There's something under the sink. I keep hearing scratching sounds coming from it,” she said, holding the curtain up to cover her face.

Twilight sighed. “I'm sure it's nothing,” she said plainly. “I'll show you.” Spike hopped off her back, and she approached the door slowly. Her horn began to glow as she turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Inside she could see a sink with a cupboard below it. She stepped inside and leaned her head down so that it was level with the cupboard.

“See,” she said, nodding her head towards the cupboard. “Nothin—”

She was interrupted by the sound of something scratching the wood. She jumped back, hitting her head against the edge of the sink. Twilight rubbed her head as she said: “What in Celestia's name was that?”

Pinkie, curtains still covering all of her face, responded: “I told you.”

Twilight backed away slowly. “Okay, we need a plan.”

Several minutes later, Spike, Twilight, and Pinkie stood in a semi-circle around the cupboard. Each of them clutched a different weapon. Twilight raised her frying pan high as Spike readied his tennis racket and Pinkie's grip tightened around her oven mitt.

“Ready?” Twilight said, looking around the group. They nodded. She nodded back, and her horn began to glow. “One, two, three!” As she shouted “three”, she threw open the cupboard doors. A tiny green alligator tumbled out onto the tiled floor.

“There you are Gummy! I was wondering where you went,” Pinkie giggled cheerfully. She scooped Gummy up and placed him on her head. Humming to herself, she bounced away.

Twilight's jaw dropped. Still holding the frying pan, she turned to Spike; he shrugged his shoulders. She tossed the frying pan aside and lifted Spike onto her back. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go get that owl food.”

One Day, Before Summer Flight Camp

“Rainbow, what’s below the clouds?”

Rainbow stared at Fluttershy in disbelief. “More clouds, uh, duh!”

“I, um, don’t think that’s right,” Fluttershy said. “I mean, if there’s more clouds below, what’s that green stuff way down there?”

“What are you, some sort of dolt? Those are green clouds, haven’t you ever heard of green clouds?”

“Well, I, uh, well… My parents told me that was called ‘the surface.’”

Rainbow pulled Fluttershy in with her hoof. “Ah, Fluttershy, the surface is just some myth everypony’s parents keep telling
them to not do the super-awesome-and-cool dive bomb maneuvers. I go down there all the time when I’m practicing.”

“…My parents lied to me?” Fluttershy’s eyes widened, tears streaming out. She began bawling uncontrollably.

Sheesh, talk about overreaction, Rainbow thought. She sighed. “Don’t cry, Fluttershy, I’m sure they had their reasons.”

Fluttershy sniffed. The tears had stopped, thank Celestia.

“’Sides, you’d probably hurt yourself if you went down to the surface anyways. You are one of weaker fliers, after all.”

This did nothing to alleviate Fluttershy’s stress, but Rainbow Dash considered it a small victory that she at least was no longer crying.

“I’m no weak flier,” she huffed. She tentatively flapped her wings, barely lifting her minute body a few inches off the ground.

“See, watch this!” She managed to fly up into a ring, but the cloud quickly gave way, sending her careening down a hill,

Fluttershy screaming all the while. The hill curved upwards, and she was sent right into a flag pole, taking the flag with her before hitting the cloud with a soft thud.

Two pegasi began laughing in an unmistakably annoying manner. “Nice going Clutchershy!” said one.

“They oughtta ground you permanently!” the other said.

“My baby brother could fly better than you!”

Fluttershy curled up in shame, eyes planted firmly on the ground, thick tears just waiting to drop.

Rainbow Dash knew she couldn’t just sit idly by while all this happened. She rushed out, yelling at the two, telling them that
they should Fluttershy alone.

“Oh yeah, you think you’re such a big shot, why don’t you prove it?” one asked.

“Whaddya have in mind?” Rainbow retorted.

And the race was on.

Canon

Octavia’s left hoof worked a mellow vibrato from her cello’s strings as the other drew the bow smoothly across. The sustained note tapered perfectly into silence, but Octavia left no room for a pause after the reverie, launching immediately into the caprice. As the bow flashed back and forth ever faster, the hoof on the cello’s neck applied delicate pressure, angling perfectly so that Octavia could double stop in harmony.

Let those arrogant unicorns try that without magic.

Her piece reaching its fervent climax, she executed a broad glissando, ending in a soaring high note bowed behind her instrument’s bridge. Taking a minute to let her panting abate, she slid her bow over a block of rosin and wiped the sweat from her brow. She’d looked over to give the D-string’s peg a slight turn when her eye caught a bit of movement. Out the open window, Derpy had settled onto a bench and wore her goofy smile as she waited for Octavia to resume.

Must be a nice little distraction from her life. Oh, well. An audience is an audience.

Octavia flipped through her sheet music and selected an elegy. From the first stroke, a sonorous melody of longing sorrow poured from the second-story room. This piece was by no means new. Octavia could play it in her sleep. Working from memory, she peered out to watch Derpy’s reaction.

Derpy closed her eyes and knit her brow, rocking with the slow tempo. A wing unfurled and drooped. Just as the music ended, she sniffled and folded her wing back before the feathered tip could drag through the dust. Within moments, the usual empty stare had returned.

Next, Octavia moved into a polka, weaving a playful tune initially, then switching to a light pizzicato, plucking with the edge of a hoof.

Derpy’s grin broadened, and her head bobbed as she stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth. Her forelock flapped a bit behind the beat and continued for a few measures after the piece was over. Giggling, Derpy sat up straighter and let her left eye wander up toward the sky.

Finally, Octavia started into a passacaglia. The opening strains established a simple pentatonic melody, but she soon became embroiled in increasingly complex ornamentations.

A rather demanding composition. Don’t know it from memory well enough. Gotta read the sheet music on this one.

She’d played through a dozen interpretations on the theme when she chanced a look and saw an empty bench.

Hm. Must not be to her taste...

Octavia propped her cello and leaned onto the windowsill, looking both ways down the street. Nothing.

She was scratching a hoof at her chin when she heard a knock from downstairs. Answering it, she was met with Derpy’s walleyed face.

“I hope I’m not intruding, but that was wonderful! I heard Wynton Maresalis play that last year with the Canterlot Brass Ensemble. It’s a Sam-Mule Scheidt composition, right?” Derpy gushed, scratching a hoof at her mane.

“Yes...” What?

“Do you mind if I come in?” Derpy asked, stepping in once Octavia had nodded. “It’s interesting hearing it transcribed for cello. You know the part where it modulates into a minuet? If you slow it down a bit, it’ll sound more stately. And on the pavane—you’re already over on the G at the beginning of each phrase. If you double stop with the C-string, it’d really make that note sing!”

Octavia stood open-mouthed for a moment before smiling and gesturing toward the couch. This was going to be interesting. Fun and interesting.

Alighted

In the cold, the dark, the waning sunlight dripping over our horizon, it moves. With the weather, the dryness, the heat that never ceases, it breathes. Under the glow of the moon and the candle of the sun, it hunts. To the beating of fear-laced hearts it draws near.

Magic—
Life of fire and death of winter.

Magic—
Smile of joy, shriek of sadness.

Magic—
The beginning or the end?

Relentless actuality coursed across her body. Worlds, lives, truths—possibility—flooded through her vision. Peering into the abyss, lyres' strumming, green and callous light, mires of history, brambles of hatred clashing with the love; all tongues of flame clawing at her mind.

That long ago, the drumming, drumming.

"Twi—" A voice, a face, the graying sky. Veins of frost closed the gap. The silence was unmarred.

The burning, the pain, the sorrow, the… hate?

It was almost mystical. A feeling unlike any other. A new magic, one that burned her spirit, cemented her fear in frames of jealousy and anger. It alighted her soul with indignation.

Righteous fury interminable.

The water all around, the frost, the darkness chewing at the corners of her mind, power grew, spread, and fed on a spring of emotion. Boiling water, break through the barrier, use the power, destroy them forever.

The blaze of glory—

"—ight…" She recognized the voice.

"Rainbow Dash?"

Head pounding, soaked to the bone in icy water, smoky breath threading away in the chill breezes—battlefield scarred by an unknown force.

"It's okay. You—" Dash stopped for a second. "You were pretty awesome, actually."

But the Windigos were still out there; or was that even what they were? The cold chill, the anger, the power. Beneath the calm, the tranquility, the chivalry, something horrid lay. Beneath the golden hearts, the kindness, the peace, something… drumming, drumming, drumming…

Something lay beneath the surface.

And she saw it all.

Under the Apple Trees

Applejack's coat glistened with sweat as she walked through the orchard. One, two, three. The late-afternoon sun beat down on her back. Four, five, six. She stopped for a moment to wipe the sticky sweat from her brow, glancing up to the sky in time to see an eagle pass by. A small smile parted her lips; her teeth were barely visible beneath her gums.

She felt the crisp grass beneath her hooves as she walked past tree after tree laden with sweet-smelling apples. Nine, Ten—shoot. How many was it again? Applejack's brow furrowed as she tapped a hoof against her forehead. Her eyes lit up suddenly. It's thirteen, then Ah go left. She grinned, pleased with herself.

Eleven, twelve—and thirteen. She stopped at the thirteenth tree, making a sharp left turn, and then began counting again. Four down, then one right. A calm breeze swept through the orchard as she walked; it rustled the leaves, played with her mane. Thee—and four. She stopped again, looking up at the plump apples hanging from the tree. Hanging right around the fourth tree, she stopped at the next one.

Ah'm here. She approached the tree slowly, taking off her hat and holding it over her chest. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at the tree trunk. Carved into the bark were four letters encompassed by straight-edged heart: “AW+HC”.

“Howdy, Ma,” said Applejack quietly. “And you too, Pa.” She carefully set her hat down next the tree then brought her hoof up to the heart that encompassed the initials. She ran her hoof across the bark, feeling the grooves of both the tree and the carving. A gust of wind blew past her, ruffling her mane. She smiled.

“It's been awhile since Ah've come,” she said softly. “Ah'm real sorry about that. Ah've just been so busy around the farm,” she said apologetically. “Y'all know how that is.” She breathed deeply through her nose, allowing the scent of apples and tree sap to mix into a pleasant bittersweet combination. “Ah came to see y'all 'cus Ah almost lost myself today.” She placed her forehead against the tree; the rough bark brought a smile to her face and her eyes began to water.

“Ah don't know what Ah woulda done if it weren't for Twi.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. They fell to the ground, splashing against the protruding roots. “She saved me. Heck—she saved all of us. She showed us what friendship truly means, and Ah can't thank her enough for that.” She took a few steps back from the tree. The leaves rustled, and the apples bobbed in the wind.

She stared at the carving, tears welling in her eyes. “Well, Ah guess that's all Ah had to say,” she chuckled softly. “Ah promise to come back and visit real soon, and Ah'll tell Big Mac y'all said 'howdy'.” She picked up her hat and turned to walk away, but an apple fell in front of her. She bent down to pick it up and examined it. A wide grin spread across her face. She closed her eyes and took a generous bite out of the side. The crunchy sweetness filled her mouth as she chewed.

She looked up at the tree and tilted her hat down, nodding her head. “Thank ya kindly.” Taking another bite, she turned around and walked away as another gust of wind blew past her, rustling the leaves.

L For...

Wind rushed past her as she soared through the sky on angel wings. It played with her mane, blowing it about. Her tail bobbed up and down as the air currents passed over it. Her eyes began to water from the stinging wind. She squinted but kept her speed up. Rivers, valleys, and fields passed below her at incredible speeds. The sun's rays beat down harshly on her.

A dull, lightning bolt-shaped ruby attached to a gold necklace hung about her neck. She could feel its weight as it bounced against her chest in the wind. Her fore-hooves were stretched out before her as her wings beat faster and faster, picking up more speed. The rhythmic flapping of her wings, and the rush of the wind were the only things she heard as she flew.

From this height, she could see Ponyville with its many little houses and numerous inhabitants milling about. She rose up higher, beating her wings harder to gain more lift. The vast expanse of clear blue sky spread out in front of her. There were no more than a handful of clouds in the sky; the sun was able to rain its light down freely.

She banked west, turning her body to glide smoothly on the wind. Just on the edge of her vision she could see it; her home lay just a few flaps of her wings away. She gritted her teeth, narrowing her body and picking up more speed. She could still feel the weight of the ruby, but she refused to look down at it. Her eyes were focused on the mass of clouds in front of her.

Tens of thousands of trees passed beneath her as she flew over a forest. A tiny stream was barely visible through the canopy of leaves. The tiniest smile began to break through her tightly pursed lips. It tugged at the corners of her mouth, begging to be freed. She pushed it back. The amalgamation of clouds before her coalesced into familiar structures as she neared her home. A few moments later, and she was bursting through the door of her home.

She breathed a silent sigh as she saw her home, just the way she had left it. The soft clouds beneath her hooves depressed in a sponge-like way as she walked through her living room and into her bedroom. Sweat trickled down her forehead, mingling with the tears forming in her eyes. She hurried to the nightstand next to her downy bed. With careful haste, she pulled open the drawer, and peered inside.

It was still there. She reached in and pulled out a thin piece of paper. Her eyes began to water as she looked at the six ponies in the picture. All five of them were there, along with herself, surrounding her. She placed a hoof on the photo, running it across the surface. She pretended to brush her violet mane as she stared fondly at her.

The photo shook as a teardrop landed on it, splashing across her face. Then another and another fell. They drowned the ponies. She clenched her eyes shut, forcing more tears out.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered softly. “I'm sorry.”

Orbiting Underneath The Disc

Day 1
Silently, he curved around the underside of the world. In retrospect falling off of the side of the world had not been his brightest idea to date, but what was there but 'retrospect' when you only had a little time filled with empty space before you came crashing back up like a Sixth Elephant upon the Disc?

Day 2
He had a wonderful view of the underside of the Discworld at this point. There, lit by the lights of a thousand distant stars, the four elephants stood on the back of the great A'Tuin, the giant turtle forever working his way through the vast emptiness of space. One wasn't about to doubt the facts, but he had to admit... he'd never been quite able to imagine just how massive A'Tuin was until this point.
He wondered why the elephants didn't have their own names.

Day 3
He'd named the closest elephant "Tiny". No word yet on the other four, but he had time. He had all the time he needed. Maybe only a half a week left, at the rate he was falling around A'Tuin.

Day 4
Why was he even circling the world turtle in the first place? He'd always fallen DOWN before, no need to go screwing with a perfectly good standard at this point. Technicalities, really.
Maybe he'd crash somewhere nice.

Day 5
Loneliness was his only company, now. Loneliness, and five beasts so massive that he couldn't even imagine what he must be to them. Less than a mote of dust.
What was a mote of dust, then, to them?
I'm hungry.

Day 6
He read somewhere that nopony was supposed to survive for more than three days without water. Then again, he'd read somewhere that nopony was supposed to survive under the Disc for more than 3 minutes of airlessness, either. Why was there air down here, anyway? Thought it was just up there. A'Tuin didn't breathe air like normal folk did. Just not feasible.

Day 7
He'd begun to rise again. Why? How? Didn't matter, he just had to focus on one thing: that means he'd be back in the world again. Maybe I'll land in water. I don't think I'll die, even if I don't. You go down, you speed up. You go up, therefore, you slow down. QED.

Day 8
He was almost up to the Disc again. Might have been his imagination, but he thought he was speeding up as he got nearer to the Disc again. Playing tricks on his mind, maybe.
Already over a week down here. He felt fine.

Day 9
Finally. HE was falling. Falling to the Disc. Falling to his family, his friends.
Well... his friends, at the very least.
...Acquaintances, perhaps.
He probably wouldn't survive.

Day 9.5
No one to say goodbye to. No one to care if he did. What was one more random traveler around the edge?
He'd heard rumors that if you got going fast enough, you'd break time or something. Why would that matter now? He was almost to the ground. Close to where he fell off, actually. How'd he fall, anyway?

Day 0
He didn't know why he came to the edge of the world. Made him feel... important, he supposed. Nothing that mattered but him, when he compared to the darkness out there. They always told him it was dangerous, but he wasn't buying it.
Suddenly, a massive impact behind him. Something had crashed into the ground. He turned. Lost his footing.

Fell.

Caretaker

Equestria. Land of happiness, friendship, adventures, mystery, occasionally even a land for Discord to have his way for a while.
Hah. Discord. What a sad little thing, compared to them.

In the depths of the world, a single pony aged beyond measure sat with a tome as wrinkled and brown as his own coat. In a sealed room, under the ground, locked in time, locked from the world, he kept the traditions alive. Said the requisite prayers, chants, mantras, curse words... anything he could, to keep them down.
He stubbed his hoof on a table leg, and the resulting string of profanity must have added a good 5-10 minutes to the seal on its own.

No one quite knew where the traditions had started, when they'd been mandated, when they'd been... 'stopped', for lack of a more appropriate term. 'Slowed' was closer to the truth, but he wasn't about to tell anyone. He was the closest thing to a perfect base of knowledge on them as the world had, and he was sealed away to make sure no one else ever had to hear it. The knowledge of just what the hell happened back then. The royalty MIGHT (and that was a hell of a 'might') know what had occurred, but the truth was lost to even him. Bottom line was that he had to stay there, he had to make sure that they might stay sealed for a bit longer. Let the world stay safe for a bit longer.

What could ponies have done to anger something this twisted up? Did they even do anything to ponies first, or were they the aggressors?

His thoughts were shaken with the earth beneath his feet, and immediately his stomach felt like it had been filled with lead. He glanced at his book, at the times listed there. He'd made no errors. Not forgotten anything at all.
How would he know if he'd forgotten something? If he'd made a mistake? The rumbling intensified as if answering his questions with its own existence. The message was clear. Somewhere, you all made a mistake. We're back.

A screeching sound reverberated through his tiny chamber, shaking his light off of the table and shattering it against the floor. No light, and then... the floor was visible. Despite no light whatsoever from inside the chamber, the floor was glowing. And it was glowing red.

The old pony sighed, grabbing a hat and coat from a chest he didn't ever think he'd have to use. Runes flowed over its surface like water, guarding against whatever lay beneath.

For all of his terror, all of the stories he'd been told about them, all he'd been told about how they would bring an end to the world... bring an end to EVERY world... he was excited. He was an archaeologist at the whim of a t-rex, at once terrified and elated at the prospect of meeting that which he'd studied for so long.

A massive leg burst through the floor, flames coating the leg and magma over the hoof. No... flames and magma didn't cover the leg, they COMPRISED it. He didn't feel the heat, his cloak's protective runes working against it. The rumbling intensified as whatever creature this was tore its way through the earth below, its sleep finally broken. Whatever mistakes were made didn't matter now, the Old One rose all the same.

Tempting fate for his own curiosity, the Caretaker looked at hell through the hole in his floor. And through the hole, hell gazed back.

That little thing

“That’s right ponyfolk this party has been brought to you by ‘PP projects’. There ain’t no party like a Pinkie Pie party!” the DJ shouted.

The club exploded into mixture of cheering and a sick beat blasting from the speakers followed by a wave of ponies moving to the music. The hexagonal roof covered with mosaic trembled softly from the violence below. On this roof stood party entrepreneur: miss Pinkamena Diane Pie. She smiled weakly at the activities below.

“You’re awfully quiet today, ma’am,” Hoofbeat her personal assistant said, filling in some papers.

“Oh Hoofie, how I long to be down there, to be myself for once. I gave up so much in order to have it all.”

“I don’t see any problem if you go down there. So… why shouldn’t you?”

Pinkamena shook her head. “ I’ve built this entire company on being serious. Ponies in the biz adore and fear me. I’m not seen as the fruity little mare from Ponyville anymore. Even if I wanted I couldn’t go down there.”

“I honestly don’t see any problem.” Hoofbeat walked towards Pinkamena. “You tell me your reputation is stopping you, but PP projects is the brand for top-of-the-class parties. You’re the owner and the living rendition of PP projects. You’re Pinkie Pie.” Hoofbeat put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. “Ma’am as your personal assistant and friend, I advise you to go down there and have some fun.” Hoofbeat turned around. “Besides I you didn’t, I would’ve invited those five VIPs for nothing.”

Pinkie turned around and looked at Hoofbeat, a small smile on her face. “Come here,” she mumbled as they hugged. “You’re the best. Thanks.”

“I didn’t do anything misses Pie. I just searched for that one thing that makes you, you. That little thing that lies beneath the harsh surface of a party tycoon. Laughter.”

Pinkie smiled undid her tie and ruffled her straight hair till it poofed out. “Now I remember why I hired you. Again tank you Hoofs.”

Pinkie dashed for the elevator, leaving Hoofbeat to watch with a bright smile on her face. “No problem Pinkie, no problem at all.”

The Song of Secrets

I do not often entertain visitors. This suits me. Potions and rituals are things best conducted in private. When a knock came at my door, I knew who to expect.

"Good evening, Zecora!" she said. "I'm sorry to bother you at such an hour, but I thought you might know the answers to some questions." Twilight Sparkle is a very polite guest.

"Greetings, Twilight! Please come in.
You seem quite eager to begin."

She wasted no time in levitating pen and paper from her bags.

"Do you know anything about the origins of Tartarus? I've been planning to write a report, and..." She trailed off when she saw the darkness on my face.

I looked to the masks adorning my walls. Each one represented a spirit of virtue, and now I looked to Wisdom for help.

"The knowledge you seek is truly ancient.
These stories have been known to leave strong minds bent.
If stories of Tartarus are what you crave,
Use well the knowledge, lest it lead to your grave."

Astonishment is unbecoming of Twilight, but after I spoke those words, several beats passed in silence.

"I think I can handle it." Twilight's eyes narrowed. "In fact, I think it's my responsibility to learn. Ponies everywhere should know about such things, and I'll be the one who's brave enough to find out and tell them."

Twilight's dedication was heartening. I turned to face her with a softened expression—and nodded.

Twilight's pen, glowing in the grip of her magic, hovered over her pad as I began.

“Tartarus, the under-city, prison of terrors.
The stories are wild and full of errors.
You know, I imagine, of its long disuse,
But you may not have heard of its tragic misuse.
A bottomless pit? Kings saw it as useful
For disposing of anything they saw as harmful.
Cursed gold, evidence, even their nemeses--
Tartarus just fed their brutish, crass tendencies.
But Tartarus still served its intended goal:
For Goddesses to seal away demon and troll.
Tartarus was sealed, but thanks to the ages,
There lived no scholars, no priests or sages
Who could hope to count all the horrors within--
Yet to this day brave and foolish go in
Hoping to scavenge a fabulous prize
Though few ever enter and leave there alive.
My dear Twilight, you now know the tale
Of Tartarus: Graveyard. Treasure trove. Jail.

My story ended, but Twilight's quill continued scratching for a long time more. Then I heard her pack her notes and prepare to leave. “Thank you, Zecora. I hate to leave so quickly, but I'd really like to get this down.”

She started to leave. I made to open the door for her.

“Oh, and... Zecora?”

I turned to face Twilight.

“How did you know all this? You don't keep books around... were you told by somepony, or...”

I smiled as I told Twilight an old lie.

“My people are well-versed in verbal tradition.
There are those, such as I, who make it our mission
To remember the stories, no matter how ancient...

I coughed, and looked to my masks again. Twilight nodded, and left.

The mask I looked at this time was a very old one: Divinity. Unlike the others, I had not carved it with my own hoof. This mask, I found. Recovered, as it were. From a very dark and dangerous place.

I know many secrets. Some of them, I have heard. Others, I have seen with my own eyes. I do not share all of them. This secret, I intend to hold close.

Peace Negotiations

Two sisters stood on one of the castle's many balconies. This was to be the last time they would see each other for a very long time, and they both knew it. They would meet again, of course—destiny required that—but the sunset was fading into dusk. When night fell, they would become generals on opposite sides of a line, and sisters no more.

Luna's voice boomed across open air. “The citizens are restless.” Her helmet ignored the sky's pale glow and glittered in the starlight from her mane. “They require an answer soon, or unrest will turn to violence. This may be your last chance, Celestia. If a revolution begins, every life that the war takes will be on your own hooves.” Her voice was as cold and as black as midnight, because she willed it to be so. The sky darkened as the Lunar Princess spoke.

“Your 'citizens' have heard their answer.” Celestia stood at the railing, and did not turn to face Luna. “Your support of the rebels is pure foolishness. I will not negotiate with petty vandals and instigators. I have always loved the little ones with all of my being, and it was not long ago that you stood alongside me, sister.” Her tone was warm even though her words were frank.

“Little ones!” Luna scoffed. “Your distaste for the dignity of ponies is typical. When Manehattan and Cloudsdale are in flames thanks to your tyranny, then will you see what it is to deny ponies their rightful place in society?”

“When Manehattan burns, the revolutionaries will have turned from instigators to terrorists.” The sky darkened. Celestia still did not turn her head. “I am finished with imploring your faction of lunatics to reconsider,” she lied. “You came here with honor and humility. For that, you have my gratitude. However, tonight I must offer an ultimatum. Denounce the rebellion and join me in scattering it, or this will be the last time we meet.”

Silence. Luna saw Celestia hang her head, and her heart ached. She knew that Celestia loved the ponies every ounce as much as she claimed to. From the bottom of he heart, Luna wished she could embrace Celestia and fly with her across the land, showing her the truth as a sister, not as a negotiator.

Celestia knew that her sister could see her weariness. She wanted to beg Luna to help her turn back time, to a time before the Princesses were divided by such pettiness, but the time for these things had passed. Luna was brave and loyal, and she would not abandon those who trusted her, not even for the sister whom she had loved for a thousand lifetimes.

Celestia knew the pain that her sister was in. Luna knew the pain that her sister was in. Loving sisters they were, for but a few more moments that were over too soon.

Celestia turned her head, presumably to see if her sister would agree to peace. They both knew that such a thing would be impossible, no matter how dearly they both wished it.

Neither of them shed a tear as the Princess of the Moon backed away by a few steps, then turned her back on the ruler of the sun and, with a blink of moonlight, disappeared.

The stars twinkled coldly against a cloudless, black sky.

Returning Cerberus

Tartarus sure was a long run from Ponyville. It had been so long since Twilight last visited that she had almost forgotten how far away it was—her horn was tired from holding the yarn so long, to say nothing of the decrepit condition her legs were in. But, after hours and hours of running through plains, she was finally greeted with the familiar sounds of screaming banshees and clouds of unnavigable mist.

Luckily, Twilight remembered the layout like the back of her hoof, and before too long, she found her way to the River Styx, and a familiar face greeted her. It was Charon, the ferryhorse.

Charon waved a dandy hello, oar in hoof. “That’ll be five bits to cross, Twilight. Truth be told, I didn’t expect to see you so soon. I thought you’d have at least a couple more years in you.”

“Oh, I’m just visiting,” Twilight said, scrounging for change in Cerberus’s coat. She had forgotten her money at home. With careful precision, she was able to dig out a single silver piece from the underside of his gargantuan paw. “Will this do?”

“Of course,” Charon said. “Be sure to let Hades know you’re here, he’ll be absolutely delighted to see you. It’s been too long, Twilight.”

“No time for that, I have to get back to Ponyville before the apocalyptic cataclysm occurs!”

Charon opened his pocket notebook of scheduled ferries. “Odd, there doesn’t appear to be any cataclysms scheduled for

Ponyville tomorrow. Tell me, does your Ponyville border Hooveston?”

“No?”

“Then you should be fine.”

“I don’t have time to explain,” Twilight said, stubbornly.

Charon shrugged.

A large gate surrounded by hellish flames came into view along with the shoreline. It was just like how Twilight remembered it, flaming skull décor and all. The boat shook, knocking Twilight out onto the ground as it collided with the shoreline.

“Bye Twilight!” Charon said. He tossed the ball of yarn to her, and Cerberus followed.
In front of the gate lay a massive dog post, along with a very distraught pitch-black pony prancing around it, obviously too upset to notice Twilight.

“Oh, I leave for five minutes to sentence some rascals to roll a boulder up a hill for all eternity, and this happens!” he said, holding a broken chain in his hooves. “The CEO of Binding Inc. better have a good explanation for this!”

“Uh, hello?” Twilight said. “I found your dog.”

“My my, Twilight, is that you? And you brought my wittle Cerby-Werby?” Hades clapped joyfully.
Cerberus groaned, eyes rolling.

“Yes, it’s me.” Twilight threw the ball of yarn. “Sorry, I can’t talk, have to save Ponyville and all that.”

“But couldn’t you just stay for a nice cup of tea? You must be dreadfully tired,” Hades said.

Twilight thought about the walk back. The decision was made in an instant. “Well, one or two cups couldn’t hurt.”

“So, no scheduled cataclysms for Ponyville?” Twilight asked, perplexed.

“No, but there is a scheduled bug infestation in Canterlot a couple of months from now.”

“Huh. Well, it might be something spontaneous.”

“Nothing is spontaneous, dearie.”

Twilight finished her cup. “Well, I’m afraid I have to go now.”

“So soon? I wanted to show you your own little spot in Tartarus I saved just for you. Oh well.”

“Sorry, but no time.”

Twilight turned to leave and was just out the door, but Hades called out to her just as she had her hoof in the door.

“Oh yeah, and watch out for radiation pockets in Sweet Apple Acres!”

The Call of Carrothulhu

A carrot's shape is its loveliest attribute. Though more suited for going into the ground than out, there is something divine about that orange wedge.

"Hello, dear!"

Another long, plump orange beauty into my saddlebags, the row nearly finished.

"Goodness, aren't we healthy?"

The top is nearly as big around as my hoof. I tug; it stays.

"Time to get serious! No carrot gets the best of Carrot Top!"

I grab the stalks in my teeth, plant my hooves firmly, and use a little of granny's secret "earth pony magic". With a loud crack, the beast comes free. "Beast" is quite appropriate.

"I've never seen a carrot so gnarled and splitty!"

Splits are good luck, so I feel extra lucky as I deposit it in my saddlebag.

Derpy says I should put it on the mantel, and I can't help but feel like it deserves a place of honor. To just eat it seems a waste. I'll keep it in the fridge until last. It'll make a lovely batch of muffins.

That night, I hear it.

Golden Harvest...

Nopony calls me Golden Harvest!

"Derpy, is that you?"

No...

"D-D-Dinky?"

I shall whisper secrets hidden in the earth...

A million images flash through my mind. Lost pony civilizations buried by their own arrogance, worms still crawling through their skulls. The buried remains of horrid rites performed for old gods, blood pouring onto the soil. A cleaver swings at me. I scream.

"That musta been one doozy of a nightmare!"

I glare at Derpy and sip my coffee. It was only a nightmare, right? When she goes to work and Dinky to school, I cannot help feeling I am being watched.

It's the second row today. Halfway down, my trowel hits something hard. There's blood everywhere. Laughter darkens the back of my mind. No! The ritual!

No, I've only cut myself. Carrot Top, focus! It was only a dream!

Yet in the confines of my house, there is an oppressing darkness, like dirt being thrown over a grave. I hear the laughter again, patient, demanding.

I open the refrigerator.

It writhes at me from the vegetable drawer, green eyes pulsing with eldritch energies, mouth filled with horrible orange teeth, every fibrous root tendril curling, twisting, reaching.

I scream and slam the door.

"What's the ruckus?"

"Derpy!" I can't breathe. "You scared me half to death!"

"Hope it wasn't the half that makes muffins." A grin, then concern. "You okay?"

I'm not okay. "Yes."

In night's clutches, I see the images of howling beasts rent apart by cosmic forces, helpless against the invasion of beings beyond mortal ken. They enslaved ponies, showed them things unimaginable, fell when the oppressed rose against their masters.

Why me?

"Stop!"

Never!

I know what I must do.

To the kitchen, down through the turning, yearning shadows of the night thing camped in my fridge. It lies still. But a ruse.

I don't even wash it off, dirt crunching like bones between my teeth. The laughter comes again as I bite into it. It only fires my determination. The voice fades as I chew and chew, breaking off large hunks and nearly choking myself in my haste to consume them.

Lovely...

Only too late do I realize my mistake. Now it's in me, growling like a fetus awaiting profane birth. I collapse to the floor, tears in my eyes. The light switches on.

"Boy," says Derpy giddily, "you musta really had the munchies! I thought I was the only one who liked midnight snacks! Looks like you ate too fast, though."

Within me, the voice cackles. I scream.

Daring Do and the Tomb of Tirek

The air around Daring Do was musty and stale—almost suffocatingly so—but her soft, spluttery coughs were, to her, a special kind of victory whoop. She had solved every riddle, evaded every deathtrap and was now about to claim her reward—knowledge, for the benefit of all of Equestria.

She surveyed the markings carved around the walls of the small chamber. They contained a familiar message, one she'd seen carved all around the rest of the tomb. Her best translation was:

“On my mountain, I am ruler of all I see
For all that is mine lies under me.”

To Daring, it seemed slightly ironic that Tirek had had his coffin placed in the lowest chamber of his tomb with that philosophy. The coffin in question lay in the middle of the room and was a plain grey slab of stone, and she approached it carefully.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Daring said, taking a deep breath of musty air and pushing the stone lid up with her forehooves, straining and grunting as she did.

The stone lid clacked to the floor, and a cloud of dust rose from the coffin, momentarily obscuring Daring's view of “Equestria's Forgotten Scourge”, the tyrant who had hunted and enslaved her ancient ancestors.

The dust dispersed. Tirek wasn't much to look at, all thin and swaddled up in bandages. Daring wasn't sure how old he'd been when he died, or how it had happened, but now she was that much closer to finding out.

A bracelet with a familiar phrase carved into it adorned his right wrist.

“Guess all you own now are a bunch of rocks,” Daring said, sniggering. “Let's get you out of—wha?”

There was a deep rumbling in the chamber, coming from the ground below. The stone lid shifted on the ground, and Daring had to crouch down to steady herself. The tomb was shaking, as if in an earthquake—but that couldn't have been possible! Daring knew that Tirek's tomb wasn't on or even near any fault lines.

The shaking worsened, and Daring felt her stomach lurch downward. She was going up. “All that is mine...”

Eyes wide, Daring stared into the coffin. She felt something rough enclose the end of her foreleg.

The voice was gruff. “...Lies under me.”

The Flight.

They had died. That’s all there was to it. Nopony knew why, or how. Nopony was there, only them. Their bodies were found, charred, damaged beyond repair. Nopony had even known they had left. The ship had floated in sometime during the night, and it was anypony’s guess as to how it got tied to the dock, or how the bodies ended up inside. They could not even be sure it was the team that had set out, but who else could it be?

They weren’t supposed to go. A different team of pegasi had been selected. Nopony had known where to go; there hadn’t been any indication of land anywhere. Many teams had been lost. Most had not returned. Had they found land? Had they found food? Most pegasi could not even leave the ground. They were too weak. Hunger had taken many of the elderly. Newborns were starving.

It was the chief’s fault. He had led them there. He had driven them to exhaustion. Some had died during the trip, but they could not stop. They had been forced to leave; they could not live under the Dragons any longer. Cloud homes had been destroyed, fillies taken at birth, eaten. Not even the mighty Griffon kingdom could save them; the dragons were too strong.

Many pegasi and griffons alike had died in the war, the war that had started nearly one hundred years before The Great Flight, out across the sea. There had been no warning. The dragons had come, great in strength and number. Anger and hate burned in their eyes. They had attacked the main city first, lighting the night sky with their deadly breath.

Now there were only a few left. Six lone pegasi, left on the island. One had crawled to the edge of the water, like so many before him. The others turned to call to him, to warn him not to, but they were already too weak. Their voices were gone. He stared into the water, gazing at the silver swimming before him, as the pain in his stomach overtook him, and his world grew dark. There was food beneath the water!

The Reaper's Game

The sound of hooves across the pavement. The ceaseless chattering of voices. In the middle of it all, a figure unseen. Head down, smug grimace on his face, he looked at the ponies around him with nothing but contempt. Still nothing to do, no company but his own thoughts.

"I'm... dead?!" The question seemed ridiculous now, but he'd been confused at the time. A blank white room, a disembodied voice telling him what he'd suspected but didn't want to hear. The voice sounded out again, but at this point it sounded more annoyed than anything else.
"Yep! Welcome to the Underground, where you're... *snigger* ...'beneath' the attention of the living!" There was no echo in this room, no noise at all once speech had ceased. The silence constricted his thoughts as badly as any distraction had ever accomplished in the past.
"You have once chance to live again: The Reaper's Game. Win, and you'll be resurrected, yeah? Lose, and you lose your entry fee and... well, your right to exist."
Something about the emphasis the voice had placed upon the game didn't quite sit well with the pony. "Entry fee? What could you possibly take...?" The hesitance in his question more than sounded his reluctance to hear the answer, but the voice was already on the answer.
"...from a dead pony?" A brief pause "Whatever you value most."
He paused for a moment, and then solemnly nodded. "Whatever it is, then. Take it."
The voice chuckled. "It's already done. Good luck."

The pony looked around him. Whatever he held most dear? His possessions, maybe? His family? His memories?
He shook his head at his own foolish thoughts. He obviously still had his memories. And for it to be his family or his possessions, he'd have to value them most. He shook his head. "They don't matter as much, anymore. I made my own success. Ain't nobody claimin' success off my name now but me."

Suddenly, a ringing sound from the ground nearby. He looked around frantically for a few moments, before finally spotting the phone laying on the pavement. It wasn't his, that was for sure... but then, whose was it? The ringing had stopped, only signaling the arrival of a small text message. He looked at it hesitantly, only to see a very basic message.

"Assignment: Reach 104
Time limit: 60 minutes
Fail, and face erasure."

Suddenly, a massive pain from his hoof. He turned it upwards to see glowing numbers on the underside, counting down. A timer... on him? Classy.

He looked up, only to see a giant building with the logo "104" on it in giant lettering. A smirk and he walked off towards it, only to be thrown backwards as an invisible barrier appeared. A pony in a red hoodie standing nearby looked at him, and spoke. "Want past this wall? Form a Pact with another Player."

Gibberish, but it was obviously instructions on how to 'win' this day. He shook his head and snorted, before heading out towards a statue of a dog he spotted in the distance. Form a Pact? Other Players? And just what was his Entry Fee? He walked off, but he had a figure he was going to have to meet other "players" soon. How would he introduce himself? "Hi, my name's-"

He paused. Thought for a moment. "My entry fee's..."
The color drained from his face. Beneath his composed exterior, he was... worried. SOMEONE was worried. He had his memories, but... he couldn't describe himself. He couldn't NAME himself.

"Oh. Shit."

Lasting Impression

Gushnor jumped from his throne with a spark, much to the protest of the slimy rolls that ever so adorned the putrid lord of all things gooey.

“Slave!” he bellowed.

An androgynous pony scurried about the sewer god’s lair, trying in vain to keep his orange coat clean as he made his approach.

“Yes, most abominable one?”

“The ponies violate every part of my being with their cleanliness. It burns me to the very core! You must go to the pony lands and do all you can to spread my teachings. Go! I command you!”

The doorbell chimed as Gushnor’s minion entered Carousel Boutique.

“Oh, hello there!” Rarity said. “I haven’t seen you around Ponyville before. Are you new here?”

He quickly looked to both sides. “Yes.” He surveyed the room, not paying her much attention.

“Well allow me to welcome you to our fine little town—not to mention my fabulous boutique!”

A kettle whistled in the background.

“And what perfect timing! Could I interest you in some tea?”

He scrambled from his stupor. “Oh, yes, please.”

Rarity left to attend the kettle.

The little orange pony plonked his plot by the tea table. Noticing it was littered with coasters, he saw an opportunity for mischief. Oh yes, this would please Gushnor.

Rarity returned soon after with both a pleasant demeanour and two tea cups. But her entry revealed to her a most dire travesty: The tea table was devoid of coasters.

“I’m so sorry. I must have lost my coasters.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” The devious pony said, barely containing his smirk. “We can simply drink without the coasters.”

The thought caused a cataclysm of existential crises to ravage Rarity’s brain.

“I... all right.” She placed the cups on the naked tea table.

The sly orange pony took a sip from his cup, leaving behind a slight—but noticeable—hint of saliva on its rim. The spit travelled ever so slowly down the cup.

Rarity saw it and gnashed her teeth.

It continued travelling, further and further down until its warmth collided with the vulnerable tea table’s top.

Rarity twitched.

The crafty orange pony raised his cup for another sip.

“Enough!” she cried. “I must find you a coaster immediately!”

She raced about the boutique, emptying wardrobes and cupboards and drawers in the naive hope that she could find even just one coaster. Nothing. In passing a mirror the sight of her now frazzled mane almost caused her to faint. Then she turned back to her guest, and that sight did indeed cause her to lapse from the world of the conscious.

The devilish little pony had spilt his tea all over the pristine tea table. He whooped about it like a triumphant seagull, clacking his hooves together in mad fervour.

“Gushnor be praised! All hail the putrid one!”

He thrashed about the room, tossing spindles and pincushions all about the room in a psychotic reverie. He continued to desecrate the room in every which way until finally collapsing, his body incapable of sustaining the fury any longer.

The sneaky orange pony shot out of bed, sweating. He quickly jerked his head to each side, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you’re awake?” a voice called, soon revealing itself as a mare. “You have some really weird dreams.”

He wiped his brow. “Tell me about it.”

“So”, the mare said, parking herself beside him with a wry look on her face, “who’s Gushnor?”

The Gate

You are a simple construction pony. Your job consists of little more than digging up the ground so that the other workers can fill it in with cement. Then come the bricks and the wood, and eventually, more ponies. The town is expanding, and today you’re going to be digging up more dirt, just like you always do. As the giant shovel descends into the dirt for the one thousandth time, it hits something solid. Great, more rocks. Just what you need.

You uncover the rocks to find a large stone slab, perfectly level, with one small opening. The whole town becomes interested, and before long, your job is to uncover the entire site. A purple unicorn is now appointed to lead the excavation, and by the end of the day a staircase is revealed, descending into the gaping maw of the earth itself. Words are inscribed into the stone at the topmost stair in an ancient writing language, but the unicorn is able to read them aloud.

What lies beneath the earth in wait

for those who venture through the gate?

For those who dare to enter in

your days are quickly growing thin.

She descends the stairs with five other ponies, another unicorn, two earth ponies, and two pegasi. But why would they enter? The words were clearly a warning not to. After a few long minutes of listening to them examine the black of the chamber beneath, you hear a click, followed by a low rumbling sound. The earth begins to quake beneath your hooves. Everypony begins to run for cover, then stops, turns, and stares as the entranceway collapses on itself. Heavy rocks falling on the six ponies who are now trapped inside.

The shaking lasts for only a few minutes, but it might as well be an eternity. When it finally stops, you start up the machines, working to remove the boulders covering the stairway. A thundering roar rips through the air, causing everypony to freeze and listen to the screams now coming from beneath the earth. You return to your task, trying to get the machine to move the giant rocks, but as each one is moved, more shift into its place.

It takes all night, and most of the next day to clear the rocks away. The roars and screams have long since stopped, and what you find at the bottom of the stone staircase is not the chamber that should be there, but more earth and rock. The tunnel is gone, collapsed, and the six ponies who entered are gone.

Nopony tries to dig up the tunnel entrance. Some leave right away, some stay. You and the other workers take off your hats, observing a moment of silence. Everypony in town comes together later to hold a service for the six ponies. You spend the next week digging the foundation for the memorial that will be put up for them. Nopony ever speaks of the event again, but the monument in memory of the late unicorn and her friends, will never let you forget.

Nopony knew what lay beneath Ponyville. Nopony might ever know. And Nopony will dare to venture through the gate, where nopony knows what lies in wait.

Beneath the Surface

The door opened with a crack.
An Applejack seething with righteous anger marched into the kitchen and bellowed, “Applebloom!”
There was a protracted silence broken only by the second slam of the door as Applejack closed it behind her.
“Applebloom, get down here now!”
Applejack stalked across the kitchen and crossed into the lounge area, sitting herself down on Granny’s rocker next to the fire place. She set herself in motion, rocking back and forth precariously.
Just as she was about to shout once more, a small set of hoofsteps sounded on the floorboards above. Applejack removed her hooves from the side of her mouth and crossed them with a vice like grip. Her eyes glared daggers at the foot of the stairs, waiting for the young filly to show herself.
After what seemed like a lifetime she did, dragging her feet and staring fixedly at the ground as she disembarked the stairs. As she walked over to the lounge, Applebloom dared a glance at Applejack and, upon seeing her sister’s demeanour, once more planted her gaze at the floor.
“Ya called, sis.” Her voice almost cracked.
Applejack leaned forward in the chair.
“Ya darn right I called! Applebloom, what’s this I hear about you not turnin’ in homework for a month?”
Applebloom sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace. Her hoof traced out circles in the fur.
“Oh, that.”
Applejack spluttered, trying to find words. Upon not finding any, she bit her lip and tried to suppress a bulging vein on her forehead with a hoof. After a few drawn out breaths, she composed herself.
“Young lady, would ya like to explain?” Applejack’s voice still carried an edge.
“I don’ know. School just ain’t my thing I suppose.”
Applebloom glanced at her sister before throwing her eyes back down.
“Isn’t ya thing? School isn’t ya thing...”
Applebloom looked up once more and met Applejack’s eyes, swirling with wrath.
“School is a privilege, Applebloom! There are some fillies who never even go ta school. Do you know how lucky you are? Do you know how hard we work ta keep you in school?”
Applebloom bristled and her face flared with indignation. She looked up at Applejack and met her stare.
“And what about you, Applejack? How grateful were ya to ma and pa for puttin’ you through school? You only started carin’ when they died!”
The room went deadly silent. Applebloom was frozen with one hoof raised pointedly at her sister, fear glazed her eyes. Applejack sat still, face set like ice. The corners of her eyes glistened.
Applebloom lowered her hoof and leant forward, opening her mouth and choking on her words. Applejack cut her off before she could say anything more.
“Don’t Applebloom, it’s okay.”
Applejack jumped off the rocking chair and walked over to where Applebloom sat.
Applebloom winced in anticipation and went rigid as she felt physical contact, but something didn’t register.
She opened her eyes to find warm legs extended around her. She sat dumbfounded for a moment before sinking into the hug, nestling her face into Applejack’s mane. Tears stung her eyes as they moistened.
“Don’t ya see, silly filly” Applejack whispered, “That’s what it’s all about. I missed my chance and made my mistakes, but you. Well, you don’t have t’ make those same mistakes.”
“I know, Applejack, I know. I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“Shh, don’t be, Applebloom. We all make mistakes. Believe me, we all make mistakes.”

Duality

The dark room was empty, save for the simple wooden table that lay at the centre; the only source of illumination provided by the light crystal hovering above.

“They’re late. Again,” the solitary figure sitting at the table grumbled. Her starlit mane whipped to and fro as she sighed heavily. Her cyan eyes glanced again at the closed door. “Why do I put up with these fo—”

A burst of smoke on the other side of the table cut her words short. The familiar sight of Equestria’s one and only remaining dragonequus materialised before her with a bright flash, accompanied by several birds flying free. The dragonequus snapped his misshapen claws, magicking an armchair into existence behind him, before plopping himself down and helping himself to a drink that also appeared with the chair.

“Why do you put up with us, hm?” he said by way of greeting.

“Discord. It would be good if you actually used the door like we all do,” Nightmare Moon said, glowering at her counterpart.

“And miss the priceless look on your face every time I do this? No thanks,” Discord said airily, stirring his drink.

“Ugh. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Speak for yourself. My last plan would have succeeded if you haven't allowed yourself to be thrown off by a stray pie.”

“It was a bloody accident! How the hay should I know Pinkie Pie would have a Pietapult set up right in the middle of Ponyville’s Town Hall?” A small smirk crossed her face. “You didn’t do so well yourself. Psh, getting turned to stone twice? And without the Elements of Harmony as an excuse to boot.”

Discord snorted. “Please, petrification spells don’t do any favours to your skin complexion, you know?”

“Excuses. Let’s face it, your plans always fail because you’re more interested in fun than actually winning.”

“Feh, party-pooper.” The dragonequus leaned back and smirked. “No one said you can’t have fun while making chaos. Otherwise this job would have been a bore a long time ago.” He flicked a paw and studied it as it was enveloped by a green flame.

Nightmare Moon slammed her hooves on the table, rattling the ancient oak. The light crystal suddenly dimmed. “This is not a game, Discord. Eternal night will be mine!” she huffed.

Her counterpart yawned. “Right after I plunge the world into eternal chaos yadda, yadda, yadda.” The flames on his paw twisted into a distorted representation of the Elements of Harmony. “But of course, none of that would happen unless we get rid of this first.” The flames danced as they morphed into each of the six that represented the elements in turn.

“But how?”

“You see, my dear Nightmare Moon, sometimes even the best of us aren’t perfect.”

“Explain yourself.”

Discord’s reptilian lips curled upwards. The flames on his paw settled into a familiar figure of Twilight Sparkle. “Little Miss Perfect here bested us each in turn. I’ll admit friendship is quite the weapon.” The paw closed, snuffing out the fire. “But what happens to friendship if their friend isn’t what they think she is?”

“Discord, I have no time for riddles.”

He sighed. “You just don’t get it, do you, my obtuse alicorn friend? Have you ever wondered what lies beneath her studious personality?”

Nightmare Moon blinked. “You mean...” Her eyes widened as her voice trailed off.

Discord grinned once again as he leaned back. “I see you finally get the idea. With Miss Queenie Changeling finally returns from her unexpected vacation to the underworld, we can start working on how break Magic itself.”

Lies

“What makes a pony who they are? Their dreams? Their goals and personalities? The way they smile at their friends and promise that they’ll always be there for you? No, that’s not what makes a pony who he or she is. All of these things can be faked. A little lying and some pretending can make a pony you thought you knew look like a stranger.” I smiled and spun to face the other figure in the room. He nodded and mumbled.

“You want to know want makes a pony who they are? What enables you to know who they truly are, with all the lies shed away? It’s fear.” I giggled, happily trotting over to my guest. His eyes followed me but he didn’t answer.

“You don’t believe me?” I shrugged, patting him on the shoulder. “Well, I can’t blame you. Years and years of relationships suffered through for only me to say that they are all fake? Yeah, that’s a bit hard to swallow. But, hear me out.” I turned away from him, walking to the counter and running a hoof across its surface.

“Fears cannot be changed. Ignore what you’ve heard from the liars and pretenders. True fear can’t be dispelled. Sure, you can hide it deep within, and pretend you’re okay, but that doesn’t help. This is the type of fear that makes your persona break down and your lies fade away. It even cracks your perfectly cemented façade. It reduces you to a heap of frightful skin, barking and yelling at anyone to help you. You swear, you thrash, you say things that no sane colt or mare would say under the direst circumstances, all to try to save yourself.” I pushed away from the counter and returned to my guest, wrapping an arm around his neck. He twitched softly at the contact, and then rested again.

“It’s in these moments that you truly get to know a pony, that you see what makes them tick, makes them cry, makes them relax. And then, when it’s all said and done, you have a new friend that you know better than yourself.” I giggled again and leaned in to whisper to the colt.

“I broke through my façade, you know. All the smiles, and happiness? It was lies. Just me trying to cover up what made me, me. You know? I’m much happier now that I can be content with who I really am. It pains me to see so many ponies pretending, and lying to their loved ones. If someone’s gotta… let them get to know themselves, who better than me?”
For the first time, the colt’s eyes locked onto mine before he gazed down to see what was jabbing his neck. I brought the hoof that was around his neck down to his chest, pressing the point of the knife against him. He began to shiver, the chair rattling against the floor. I twirled around the chair, standing face to face with him now, brandishing the knife.

“Let’s get to know each other, shall we?”

More Than a Magician

“Why that little!” Rainbow Dash lifted into the sky, her face scrunched into a scowl. She beat her wings, ready to speed off, but Twilight stopped her.

“Just let her go,” she said calmly. Twilight looked up at Rainbow Dash and said coolly: “Maybe some day she'll learn her lesson.”

With a sigh, Rainbow floated back down. Twilight turned her attention to the two little colts standing a few feet away from her. “Now,” she said. “About you two...”

Twilight threw herself onto her bed, allowing herself to sink into its downy softness. Spike had fallen asleep in the other room as soon as they got home, but she had stayed up. Something in the back of her mind told her that she knew that mare. After several hours of scanning yearbooks, and photo albums, however, she had turned up nothing. Eventually, she had to give up the search until the next day. Now she lay in the warm embrace of her comforter.

She rolled over and lay her head against the pillow, dragging another over to cover her eyes. Sleep began to ease its way in slowly.

“Hello, Twilight.”

The sudden removal of the pillow yanked Twilight from her slumber. Her mouth hanging agape, Twilight looked up to see a mare leaning over her.

“Trixie?” She nearly stumbled over the last few letters as they spilled from her mouth.

Trixie's lips curled into a thin smile. She leaned in; her snout nearly touched Twilight's, and her eyes seemed to glint in the moonlight.

“I—I saw you leave,” Twilight said quietly.

“Did you?” Trixie asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I don't understand.” Twilight's mane rustled as she slowly shook her head. “What do you want?”

“Ah,” said Trixie as she moved her hoof to Twilight's face. “Now that is an interesting question.” She brushed the loose strands of hair out of Twilight's eyes, causing her to recoil. “Are you afraid of me?” Trixie's smile turned to a simper.

One hoof on either side of Twilight's head, Trixie leaned in further; her mane flowed like a waterfall onto Twilight's chest. “I want what I've always wanted,” she said finally, running her hoof across Twilight's face. “Mom and Dad were always so proud of you,” she said. “You were Celestia's faithful student after all.” Trixie ran a hoof through Twilight's mane. “I guess I wasn't good enough for you,” she lamented with a sigh.

Twilight's eyes shot open. She turned her head to stare into Trixie's eyes. Her mouth opened slowly. “Lulu—moon?” she said softly. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth with each “l”. “I—I thought y—you died...” she stammered as her voice trailed off.

Lulumoon's smile soured. Her face scrunched up. “Yes,” she answered evenly. “I suppose it would've looked that way.”

“I—I can't believe you're alive.” Twilight's eyes grew into saucers. “W—what do you want?”

Lulumoon's smile returned. “Your attention,” she answered smoothly. Her words seemed to flow out like water, drowning Twilight.

“Well, you have it now.” Twilight smiled uneasily.

“I'm sure I do,” Lulumoon replied sweetly. Her horn began to glow. A pillow glided gently through the air, slowly sliding across Twilight's face as her eyes grew even larger.

“N—” she started to protest before the pillow's smothering cut her off. A wicked grin came over Lulumoon's face as sher moved her hooves over the pillow and pressed down.

Existence

I am.

Or am I?

It’s said that all things that are will cease to be. So does the fact that I will always be mean that I am not?

I fear that I may be slowly going insane. I’ve seen many of my nation’s best therapists. But alas, they are all mortal, and they all have no understanding of what it means to have to live forever. Some ponies think that eternal life would be wonderful. Thankfully, the majority know better. Unfortunately, none know just how painful it is to continue, every day, with no end in sight.

The only other who bears my pain is my dear sister Luna. Sometimes, we share our sorrows. She almost always handles it better than I. Though she is “younger”, she is surprisingly wise, and occasionally utters a phrase of such depth that I think about it for days. Perhaps, that is what a thousand years alone does to a pony.

But for the same thousand years, I, too, was alone. There was no pony I could relate to. No pony whom I could truly talk to, and who could understand even the tiniest facet of me. Even the most brilliant of scholars could not fathom the world as I see it.

My world, above all, is one of change. Mortal ponies may claim to understand change, and maybe they do, in some superficial sense. I, however, am privy to the true sense of change, beyond the scope of years and decades and centuries.

There’s something disconcerting, even after millennia, about watching everything one does crumble before oneself. One would think that I’d have stopped caring by now, but that is not so.

I’ve seen many souls perish. Nearly all of these deaths affect me to some degree. However, nothing is more painful to me than when a Faithful Student becomes, like the rest of the world, nothing more than a stone marker in a courtyard. Perhaps this is because they represent how nothing I do will ever last, for change is the way of my world.

Ponies are apparently quite fascinated with the idea of eternal life. That was why my sister and I were given the throne about eight thousand years ago. And although we were tried to tell them that ponies who understood what it meant to be mortal would be better-suited and more sympathetic as rulers, they would here none of it.

Sometimes, I feel that I’m just a figurehead, a glorified statue that ponies trust to resist change and keep their precious world stable at all costs. After all, I am Celestia the great, the wise, the everlasting, the unchanging. But there is a secret that few are privy to. Although my sister and I may be immortal, we are by no means without origin. We have not always existed, and we have not always known that we would live forever.

Luna tells me that I should have gotten over the idea of immortality in over eight thousand years of existence. I ask her if she has.

She says no.

I don’t feel well, but it is almost time for a meeting with the urban planning council of Fillydelphia. I’m almost tempted to just skip it, since I know that in the blink of an eye, even the greatest cities would turn to dust.

But I rise, smile—

—and continue to be.