Darkness: The Haunting of Ponyville

Chapters

Interview One: Sweetie Belle
Interview Two: Sapphire Melody
Interview Three: Silver Cypress

Interview One: Sweetie Belle

Author's Forward

As of the writing of this tome, it has been nearly six years since the Great Darkness, as it has come to be known, has finally subsided. The stories contained within these pages are, to the best of my knowledge and professional ability, considered to be inherently true. Despite the annecdotal nature of such statements, I have exhaustively cross-checked details and statements whenever and wherever possible. In order to distinguish my thoughts from those of my contacts, I have bolded any text which is my own.

By no means should this work be considered to be a be-all, end-all index of such a traumatic time. There are -- or were -- hundreds of residents within the borders of Ponyville alone, and thousands more who bore witness to the events that transpired. The stories contained within should be considered to be but a tiny fraction of those who were there. To that end, this book is dedicated to the memory of those who were lost, not only on behalf of myself, but on behalf of our esteemed Goddess. May the souls of our friends and families finally find some measure of peace.

--Written Scroll, Chief Historiographer

Archived at the Royal Library in Canterlot

Fourth Era, Year Six

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The Ponyville Haunting: A Chronicle of The Great Darkness

When I was approached by the Keepers of Knowledge -- that's the royal guild of historians to the uninitiated -- I was in the midst of working on my latest book, a retelling of the Great Battle of River's Run. I had published a few small books in the past, none of which had sold particularly well, and I did not -- and to this day, still do not -- consider myself to be any more talented than any other historian in the land.

And yet, someone in Canterlot had an interest in seeking me out. The Princess, one of the historians had explained to me, asked for me by name, though they would not reveal any further information. Obviously one cannot turn down an invite by royalty, and thus I found myself flying to Canterlot via pegasus taxi half an hour later. The gleaming guards reassured me that I was not being reprimanded, but the thought still lingered.

Over the next several hours, I met with the Princess herself -- truly an honor -- and was told, in no uneven terms, that she wanted me to chronicle the events of the catastrophe that had overtaken Ponyville. At this point in time the event was less than a year old, and fresh in everypony's minds. But still, the questioned remained: Why me? Surely there were others who could undertake such an enormous task.

When I asked the Princess, her divine, somewhat imposing figure standing before me, she answered very plainly and quietly.

Because, she said, she needed someone she could trust.

For a great while I did not fully understand her answer. What made her think I was so trustworthy, when I had never even met her?

At the time, I had only ever heard of the event which would later become known as the Great Darkness. Stalliongrad is far removed from Ponyville, a good three hours' flight. I only knew what rumors and stories I had heard, bits and pieces of the whole. Over time, a larger story began to unfold, far beyond the scope of anything I had even begun to suspect.

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Interview One: Sweetie Belle.
3rd of Spring's Arrival, 4E01

Of course, every great journey begins with a single step. A list of potential contacts had been provided to me by a contact close to the Princess herself, and it was my task to seek them out and learn what they knew.

But where to start? I browsed the list of names and last known locations, struggling to find my first interviewee.

Eventually, a single name stood out above the others: Sweetie Belle.

I had heard of Miss Belle before, however briefly. An up-and-coming entertainer and singer-songwriter with a brilliant mane of pink and purple, she makes her home in Manehattan when she's not touring in an attempt to build her name. I managed to contact her via letter a few days after beginning my search, eventually getting her to agree to meet me in person at a small cafe in the big city. Eager to start my information gathering in earnest, I sit down with her on a cool, windy afternoon in Spring's Arrival. I introduce myself over a cup of coffee, levitating a quill and a pad of paper as she speaks. It seems to make her nervous at first; I put them away for a short time, explaining what I hope to learn from her. She relents when I inform her that the Princess hopes to learn all she can, so as to avoid anything like the Ponyville event from ever happening again.

With a deep breath and a somber face, she begins.

"I don't know how much help I can be, but if the Princess thinks I can contribute something, then I'll do my best."

It's okay. Are you comfortable talking about your old home?

"I guess so. Umm...where do I start? I grew up in Ponyville with my parents, but we moved around a lot. My dad was a hoofball scout, so we were in a new place every couple of weeks, sometimes for months at a time. My mom used to be a teacher, but she retired to raise my sister and I. I guess that ended up being fortunate, because she was able to home school me when I was away from Ponyville. Poor Miss Cheerilee, she always thought I was gone too much." (she laughs)

"My friends and I all received our cutie marks relatively late in life; I was in my late teens. We used to put on these silly capes and call ourselves 'The Cutie Mark Crusaders', like it was the most important thing in the world. When you're a 'blank flank' it kind of is."

You mentioned your sister. Can you tell me about her?

(Her face contorts into a cautious half-frown)

"Rarity and I had kind of a rough relationship at times. I know all siblings fight with each other once in a while, but Rarity and I always seemed to be butting heads over the dumbest things; breakfast, clothing, gems, things like that. I think it's because we didn't really grow up together -- by the time I was old enough to start having some sort of relationship with her, she was already moved out and running her own business. She loved that store. Sometimes I felt like she loved it too much...

A store?

"Mmhmm. The Carousel Boutique. Fashion, dresses, that sort of thing. I was never really into that sort of stuff, not as much as Rarity was, but it always seemed to make her happy...at least, when she wasn't being overly dramatic and proclaiming that everything was 'the worst possible thing'. She had a bit of a dramatic streak, but it was usually pretty funny. A little while after opening the Boutique she started to become pretty famous, but not for the reasons she wanted."

How so?

"Princess Celestia picked Rarity and five of her soon-to-be friends to be 'The Elements of Harmony'. Overnight my sister was a hero, but she always tried to downplay it. She literally saved the world a bunch of times. How many ponies can say they have a sister who's a national hero?

Even with her status, Rarity always insisted on growing her business based on her talent as a seamstress. All of these fashion shows she used to go to, the events she used to attend. Heh, I always thought they were kind of silly, but looking back, she really did have a lot of talent. I guess I was too young to realize it."

Let's move forward a few years. Do you remember anything about the incident?

"I wish I didn't..."

You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.

"No, it's okay. Your book will help others, right?"

That's what we're hoping.

"Alright. I guess if it'll help...uhmm, what do you want to know?"

You're my first interview, so I suppose we should start start from the beginning. What do you remember from the first days?

(She seems to mentally brace herself, setting her jaw)

"It was late in the summer, like Setting Sun or maybe early First Harvest. I was visiting Rarity for a week while my parents were out of town, and since school was still out they thought it'd be fun us to do some sisterly bonding and all that stuff."(She chuckles)

"I was such a hoof-full . I'd just got my cutie mark earlier that month -- one of the last in my school." (She points to her flank, a pink heart behind a pair of silver-and-gold bells) "And me being a dumb teenager, I thought I suddenly knew everything. We didn't get along too well that week. Rarity had a huge work load and felt terrible about not being able to spend much time with me, but we did what we could when we weren't at each others' throats. Do you have a sister or brother, Mister Scroll?"

No, I'm an only child.

"Then it's hard to explain. One minute you're ready to come to blows, and the next you're giggling and talking about your parents and stuff. Siblings are weird like that.

Anyway, it was late at night, toward the end of the week. Rarity had just gone to bed -- she was always an early riser -- but I didn't feel tired yet. So I went downstairs to grab a drink. Normally I really like the Boutique at night, it's nice and quiet. But I dunno...something felt kinda weird that night.

You know when you're all alone and you get this sort of 'uneasy' feeling? Like, the coat on your neck and back stands up? I felt that as soon as I went downstairs. I couldn't put my hoof on it, but something felt off, you know? I just ignored it, or tried to, and got myself a drink. When I was in the kitchen I was nearly scared half to death by the sound of something falling in the display room, toward the front of the Boutique. Something told me not to go and check, but I just figured it was the old, immature Sweetie Belle who was still scared of the dark. I told myself I was an adult now, or close to it, and I had to act like one. So I went in there, floating my glass beside me, and saw one of Rarity's ponnequins knocked on its side."

What did you think had happened?

"Nothing. Rarity has lots of them, in all kinds of poses. Some of the poses are easy to tip over if you put too much weight on one side, usually from a saddle or something. And that one did have a saddle, so...yeah. But as soon as I turned around...well, I ended up dropping my water, I was so terrified."

Why? What did you see?

"Rarity's pet cat, Opal." (she laughs again) "I'd forgotten about her. She usually tries to sleep in one of the dresser drawers in Rarity's room, but sometimes Rarity gets upset about it and makes her sleep elsewhere. She likes to curl up in the display room. I kinda forgot, and stepped on her tail. She was...not happy about it.

I was still mad for a few minutes, of course, but I couldn't blame poor Opal. I just went back to refill my glass and headed upstairs. I ended up falling asleep not long after, and I would have stayed asleep if it weren't for the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut in the hallway. Scared me right awake. I heard the shower turn on a few seconds later, so I figured Rarity had decided to take a shower for whatever reason. I was too tired to realize that Rarity has her own bathroom, so I went back to sleep.

"The next morning I was awoken by Rarity yelling at me, saying that she couldn't believe I'd do something so senseless. I asked her what she was talking about and she pointed to a big puddle that covered most of the hallway. 'Why would you possibly leave the towels in the shower?!' and stuff like that. I got up to look and, sure enough, there were a bunch of towels covering the shower drain and a shower head still pumping out water. I told her I didn't do it, that I was asleep and that I thought she was in the shower, but she wasn't really hearing any of it. She was convinced it was me. I mean, if you'd just woken up and saw what you thought was your sister flooding your house, wouldn't you be upset? I guess I can't blame her too much."

(She frowns)

Looking back, I should have seen what was happening. But what did I know? I was still just a kid who thought she was an adult. If only I'd known..."

Did anything else happen that week? Or soon after?

"Just once. I was up in my room and reading a book I'd, um, borrowed from Rarity's room. A romance novel. An adult romance novel. I was curious! Rarity had stacks of books in a shelf, and I just grabbed one that looked interesting. It just so happened that the cover had a pretty mare in a red dress who was obviously having some barely-covered fun with this handsome stallion.

Oh, don't give me that look! You mean to tell me you didn't do stuff like that as a teenager? Oh, come on! Everypony's hormones are absolutely racing at that age!"

I meant did anything happen that wasn't related to mature novels, Miss Belle.

"I was getting to that. It's just, um...kind of scary to remember. That's all. I was trying to delay telling you." (She shifts in her chair, looking somewhat uncomfortable. A long sip of her coffee gives her a little more time to think things through) "So I was reading really late at night, probably one in the morning, and I started getting this weird sound in my ears. You know when you get that ringing that just won't go away? Annoying, isn't it? I kept batting at my ear to try and make it stop, but it just wouldn't quit. I tried going back to reading but it was just constantly there. After a minute or two it finally started to subside, but it sounded...weird. Like, it wasn't just a gradual fading. It would get quieter for a moment, then there'd be a pause, then it'd get quieter again. It did that probably, I dunno...five, six times? It was kinda freaking me out. Each one of those pauses really sounded like there was something there, a different sound."

(She attempts to replicate the sound, a second of a high-pitched 'eeeee' vocalization, then a brief pause with a short 'shhhh' sound. She does this a few times)

"I found myself focusing on that pause, more curious than anything. It almost sounded like a whisper. And then suddenly, it just...stopped. And, um..."

Are you okay?

"I'm sorry. This is bringing back a lot of bad memories. I'm genuinely scared to tell you this right now, but...I went back to my book, and a few seconds later I heard this...voice." (She lowers her voice, her next word coming out in a deep whisper) "Sweetie." (Her coat visibly stands on end, her mouth trembling)

"Oh, Goddess...I...I'm sorry, Mister Scroll. This is very hard for me. I, uh...I couldn't sleep the rest of the night. I was too terrified to move an inch, much less try to walk all the way to my sister's room. I guess I could have called out to her, but I swear I felt like doing so would just draw more attention to me from...whatever that voice was."

And you're absolutely sure you heard that? You heard your name?

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life. I wanted to cry. When morning finally came I was still awake, and as soon as I heard hoofsteps in the hallway I mustered up the courage to shout to Rarity. She came running in and asked me what was wrong, but all I could do was cry on her shoulder until I literally passed out from exhaustion." (Tears start streaming from her eyes; she wipes them away with a napkin)

"I know it sounds like Rarity and I weren't the best of sisters, but we really, truly loved each other like only sisters could. I've never forgotten how kind she was to me the rest of that day. I don't think I left her side for even a moment."

Feeling like I've pushed for enough information for one day, I begin to pack my things away in my saddlebag, thanking her for her time and apologizing for making her relive such painful memories. I ask if she would be opposed to a talk in the future; she's unsure and says she'll let me know. As I leave a few bits on the table for our coffee, she speaks one more time, a small smile on her face despite her tears.

"She never did ask me about the book."

Interview Two: Sapphire Melody

Interview Two: Sapphire Melody
18th of Summer's Sun, 4E01

A few weeks after my meeting with Sweetie Belle, I was contacted by one of the names further down my list of potential interviews; one Sapphire Melody. Her last known address was listed as the southern end of Ponyville, which obviously gave me pause -- Hardly anypony lives in Ponyville anymore, and I was not so keen on heading to the center of it all just yet.

A few inquiries revealed that Mrs. Melody's home was no longer intact, and I was forced to give up on the lead. You can imagine my surprise when I received a letter a few weeks later, postmarked from the Baltimare Unity Hospital. Mrs. Melody wanted to speak with me in person, but was in no condition to be up and about. Feeling that it was my duty to meet with her as soon as possible, I took the first available pegasus taxi out to Baltimare, arriving late in the evening.

When I arrive I am greeted by a kind, older mare, an earth pony. The muted blues of her hospital gown can't begin to hide her still-vivid personality; for someone who is bed-ridden she is remarkably friendly and conversational. If it weren't for the wrinkles under her eyes and the streaks of grey in her otherwise light-blue mane, you would be forgiven for thinking of her as no older than most.

After a short conversation she asks me to take a seat beside her bed. I pull out my quill and paper, eager to hear what she has to say. She seems amused by my interest in putting her story to writing.

"I hear you've been looking for me, dearie. Oh, don't act so surprised! You're not the only one who knows important ponies. Consider me flattered!" (She laughs, sitting up straighter in her bed) "Not often I get visitors these days, especially somepony from Canterlot. Must be pretty important! What was it you're working on again?"

Sort of a gathering of accounts of the Ponyville incident. I'm hoping to give anyone who reads this a better insight into what happened, if you're willing to share your experiences.

"If I wasn't willing, I wouldn't have contacted you, now would I? I suppose you were probably a little surprised to learn that I'm laid up in a hospital bed. Trust me, if I could trot on outta here I'd do so right now. But that's just the way these things work sometimes, I'm afraid. Gotta make the best of it."

If you don't mind me being frank, Mrs. Melody, your name sounds familiar. I can't quite figure out why, though.

"Oh, please, just call me Sapphire, sweetie. Makes me feel young again! I'm surprised you even recognize my name, what with being as old as my grand-foals and all. I was pretty well-known back in my day, but that was long before you were born. I used to be a producer for quite a few performers, way back when. Owned my own recording studio. Still do! Or did, rather. Lost it when all of Ponyville went to hell in a handbasket, I'm afraid. Recovered a few things, mostly mementos and -- sorry, I'm getting off-topic, aren't I? You didn't come here to listen to me ramble on about when I was a young thing, you came to hear about my experience with, ah...what do they call it? The Great Darkening?"

The Great Darkness. At least, that's the most common term. And please, don't feel that you need to skip over when you were young. These are stories of ponies like yourself, after all.

"Well I appreciate the sentiment, dearie, but I'm afraid there's not really much else to say for that time in my life. I was decently well-known and successful -- even recorded the most beautiful piece of orchestral music your ears have ever heard -- but by no means was I a hot shot. My only real claim to fame is coming up with a way to sound-proof a room well enough for musicians to get a clear copy of their recording. Still used to this day, in fact!"

I actually interviewed an up-and-coming singer last month in Manehattan, a young mare named Sweetie Belle.

"Hmm...doesn't sound familiar. Sweetie Belle, Sweetie Belle..."

She's Rarity's younger sister.

"Oh! I certainly know Miss Rarity. Or used to, anyway. Been several years since I've talked to her. Such a nice young mare. So charming and gorgeous, too. Always had a knack for talent. I assume it runs in the family." (Sapphire Melody purses her lips, looking at me for a long moment before continuing) "I suppose you have a lot of questions for me. First and foremost is likely why I'm in this dang bed in the first place. Believe me, it wasn't by choice. I don't think I can fully explain it without starting from the top, though."

That's fine. The more I can learn about what happened, the better. But please, don't feel obligated to talk about anything that might upset you.

"Oh come now, I'm not some fragile flower, despite what this wrinkled old skin might say otherwise! Where to start...well, it was just over a year now, I suppose. I was spending the night just flipping through old photo albums and listening to some music. It's not very often I look through those dusty old things...guess I was just feeling sentimental."(She points a hoof to a faded, framed image sitting on the stool beside her bed, the glass cracked across one side)"My sweet, old Cinnamon. Forty-six years we were married. He passed away a few years ago. He could be a stuffy old codger at times, but I loved him with all my heart. Whenever I felt lonely I'd look at that picture and hold him against my chest, and for a little while it felt like he was still right there."

I'm truly sorry for your loss. He sounds like a great stallion.

"One of the best. He took some warming-up to, but once you got to know him..." (Her voice trails off, but she continues a moment later) "For what it's worth, at least he wasn't around to see everything he loved get dashed on the rocks by that damn...whatever it was.

Like I said, I was rummaging through old photo albums one night, enjoying a nice cup of tea and some beautiful orchestral music -- Canterlot Symphonic, I believe. This was a few days after the first rumors of something strange happening were starting to circulate, but old Sapphire didn't believe any of that hooey. When you've been around as long as I have, you don't put much stock in silly stories!

I was just getting up to refill my cup when I started to hear this strange sound, like somepony knocking on my door. I took a look-see out the peep hole but didn't see anything, so I went back to what I was doing. Wouldn't ya know it, but that darn sound started up again a few minutes later! I thought it was some of the neighborhood colts just having a bit of fun at ol' Miss Melody's expense. I figured, shoot, if they're gonna take me for a fool I'm not even gonna bother! So I didn't. I just let 'em knock on my door a few more times and went about my business. Eventually the knocking stopped, thank goodness.

Of course, it wasn't some young colts playing a prank, but you probably figured that out by now. I had a nice, new cup of tea all ready to go, and as soon as I walked by the front door...well, it wasn't some light knock. These were loud, forceful hits. 'WHAM, WHAM, WHAM'! Scared me so much I dropped my dang cup. Shattered into a hundred pieces, it did. Well, I wasn't having any of that! I threw open that door to give the kids a good talking to, and...no one was there. Not a soul around. Spooked me something fierce, I can tell you that."

Did anything else happen that night?

Not a thing. Heh, probably a good thing it didn't, too. Nerves were on edge as is. Took me a good, long time to stop feeling jumpy. I guess I just sort of...ignored it after a while. In my mind I was still reasoning that it was the kids outside. You'll believe just about anything to make yourself feel better."

So what happened next?

"Things relaxed for a few days. I went to the market at some point and heard this orange-maned mare talking about 'bad omens' this and 'spirits' that and such. Didn't pay much attention to it, I was too busy picking up some much-needed groceries. It was a weekend, so I'd invited one of my old friends over -- Lemon Dream, was her name. She was an old hat in the music industry, just like yours truly. Once a month we'd meet up and mess around in the recording studio, just singing some of the songs we grew up with and enjoyed." (She smiles brightly) "Old Lemon, she was always such a better singer than I could have ever hoped to be! Guess there's a reason I was a producer and not a performer, eh? Heheh. Anywho, she dropped by round about mid-day. Just like we always did, we drank some tea and talked about the old days before heading into the studio. Always a kidder, she was. Loved to crank the volume up on my speaker when I wasn't looking!"

Did you still get musicians and performers recording from your home studio, Miss Melody?

"Didn't I say to just call me Sapphire? "

Sorry, force of habit.

"Well, at least you're a polite stallion. More than can be said for most. But to answer your question: Sort of. Mostly old friends, like Lemon. Sometimes a stallion or a mare that was passing through town would hear about me and drop by to say hello. I will admit that my equipment wasn't very modern -- none of that fancy electronic stuff, with their sliders and lights and gizmos. Still did all of my recording the old fashioned way. But I think there's something to be said for that stuff. It feels so...familiar. Probably just my nostalgia talking, I'm sure.

Mostly, though, the studio just sort of collected dust. When Lemon dropped by I'd dust the equipment off and we'd throw on a little forty-five record to record the two of us singing an old ditty. Or rather, she sang, and I sounded like a drowning cat! It was real lively that day; we ended up recording two songs in their entirety, and lots of us just being old and silly as we're wont to do. Had a wonderful time. When she headed back home I hopped into the studio and retrieved the record. I always listen to anything we record, just to have a laugh, before I file it away with all the others. Got a trunk full of the things, let me tell you. Or I did, I suppose. Ain't much left now.

I sat down with a nice glass of wine and my well-worn victrola and listened to our songs, same as I have for a long time. I set about preparing myself some dinner as I listened, just letting the record play, but it started sounding...odd."

How so?

"Well...how do I put this..." (She scratches her head in thought) "You know how you get pops and such during playback? Those are to be expected. But for some reason this record didn't have any pops, like there were no imperfections in the record, which is absurd. Every record has imperfections. Instead of pops and hisses and what-have-you, there was this strange sound, like somepony trying to stifle a cough. Never heard such a thing in a recording before. It intrigued me more than anything. I started listening intently to try and figure out what it was. Thought it was background noise that had somehow managed to find its way into the recording room; it happens from time to time. So I shrugged it away and went to get the sleeve for it...and that's when I heard...heard something. Something that wasn't right. Out of curiosity I took the record back into the studio and plugged in my headphones so I could hear better. Celestia, how I wish I hadn't..."

At this point, Sapphire Melody reaches into a small suitcase beside her bed. She pulls out a small, black record in a white case. It's labeled "3E09, 12th of Hearth's Warming". She passes it to me.

"This is the record itself. Somepony found it among what used to be my home. I figure you can make more sense of it than I can. Besides, it's been hard enough keeping that damn thing around as is."

If you were so terrified of it, why did you keep it?

"Honestly? I wasn't going to. I was gonna shatter that thing into a thousand pieces. But...it's, ah...the very last recording I have with Lemon Dream. I've never been able to bring myself to listen to it since everything happened." (She pauses, inhaling deeply before continuing) "I called Lemon back over the next day and told her that I'd recorded something. Something she might want to hear. I don't know what made me think she would want to listen to it. Wish I would have never convinced her to do so...

I sat her down with my headphones and let her listen. She smiled and laughed as it played back our poorly-covered songs. And then...then she went white as a sheet. I could see her mouth trembling as she heard what I'd heard. I...oh, dear, I'm so sorry...it's very hard to speak of such things. I asked her what she thought it was, and she ripped the headphones off and immediately backed herself into a corner. The poor thing, she was so scared that tears were just streaming down her face. She wouldn't speak to me. I tried to give her a reassuring hug but she just...p-pushed me away...could you pass me a tissue, Mister Scroll? Oh, thank you, dear."

Are you alright, Sapphire?

"It was my fault. I let her listen to that damnable record and she looked at me like I was the worst pony in the world. She asked me if it was some kind of sick joke. I couldn't say anything; she already knew the answer. She said she was leaving 'right now'." (She laughs bitterly) "That's the last thing she ever said to me. She was out the door immediately after. I...I never saw her again, Mister Scroll. I have no idea what happened to her. I fear the worst, but...please, if you find her, tell her Sapphire is so, so sorry. Would you do that for me?"

Of course.

"You're a good stallion. Thank you."

As I pack my things away -- including the new record that I am, quite frankly, equal parts curious and terrified to have in my possession -- she sticks a hoof out toward me.

"Every fiber of my being wants me to destroy that record. Some things aren't meant to be kept around. The only reason I've given it to you is because I believe you can help others. Genuinely help them. I have hope for you, Mister Scroll. Even if I don't have much for myself." (She hesitates, nervously biting her lip) "I never did tell you why I'm in a hospital bed, did I? No? I, ah...I put myself here, you see. Few months ago I reached a low point in my life. I'd lost my home, my husband was long gone, my life-long friend was missing, and I felt like there was nothing left for me. So I acted like a Goddess-damned coward and swallowed a hoof-full of sleeping pills. Heh...couldn't even get that right. Poisoned myself something fierce, but life clung to me. I have no idea why. Maybe it just wasn't my time. Maybe I was meant to pass that record on to you before I go.

I am not a bad pony, Written Scroll. I have lived a good life with the stallion I loved. Raised four children and six grandchildren. But so long as I live, I will always feel like Lemon Dream is gone because of me. Always. I just hope she can forgive me."

I sat on Sapphire Melody's record for several days. I didn't want to listen to it, but I knew I had to. I owed it to her, and the old friend she missed so dearly. For the sake of my research, and for the sake of Miss Melody, I did so. Below is a transcript of that recording, as best as I can decipher what was audible.

::Playback begins::
Sapphire:"Oh, don't be such a sour-puss, Lemon! What would your younger self say if she heard you now?"
Lemon: "She'd say I look like a wrinkled saddlebag, that's what! Not as much as you, though!"
*laughter from both*
Lemon: "Fine, fine. If you wanna sing 'Lonely River' I won't stop you. Never did care for that song much. Reminds me of that old crow from the Appleseed Club, you remember the one. Short mane, bad attitude? But that accent! Oh, I could have melted!"
Sapphire: "Knowing you, I'm surprised you didn't! He had quite a thing for you, especially in that show-mare outfit."
Lemon: "Hm. Too bad he turned out to be a thievin' criminal."
Sapphire: "Will you hurry up and put on the headphones already, you old hag? This record won't last forever!"
Lemon: "Always had a way with words, Sapphire."
*four loud taps on something like a music stand*
Sapphire: "Alright, whenever you're ready, Lemon."
*The next several minutes are the two of them conversing between takes, never managing to get past the second stanza without laughing about old memories. At roughly six and a half minutes in, a quiet, sharp sound is heard, like an exhale. It is decidedly more masculine than either of the mares*
Sapphire: "We have time for one more, if we hurry it up. How about...Moonless Night?"
Lemon: "Oooh, I always liked that one! That was Cinnamon's favorite, Celestia bless his memory."
Sapphire: "That it was, dearie. What do you say we sing it for him?"
The two mares flawlessly get through the entire song. During this time I notice a strange sound in the background, lasting several seconds before stopping. It repeats this pattern for nearly two minutes. I have enhanced the audio as much as possible. The result is bolded to separate it from their singing."
Both: "And when dreams may come, with hearts on high, we raise our voices--"
"Haaa...ssss..."
Both: "For my true wish, lies in your first kiss--"
"...haaave..."
Both: "Forever, and ever, in the warm summer's night--"
"Lem...." *short, laughter-like sound*
Sapphire: "Oh, goodness! I completely forgot about the tarts! Lemon, you old crone, you were supposed to remind me!"
Lemon: "Me? They're your tarts! Maybe you're going senile in your old age."
Sapphire: "If I'm senile, I'm taking you with me."
*inaudible whisper-like sounds* "Have...your name..."
Lemon: "Are you gonna stand there all day, or do I have to do everything for you?"
*static, hard to makeout*
"...yournamehaveyournamehaveyournameHAVEYOURNAMEHAVEYOURNAMEHAVE--"
Sapphire: "Keep your saddlebag on, I'm comin'! Just let me pop this record off right quick."
::Playback Ends::

In the following weeks I attempted to look up the last known whereabouts of Miss Dream, hoping both that I could get an interview from her, and that I could reunite her with her old friend. Unfortunately, it was not to be -- I received an officially-stamped envelope from the Hall of Records, stating that Miss Lemon Dream, seventy-two years old, of Whinnypeg, Equestria, was found deceased, locked in the master bedroom of her home. The apparent cause of death was starvation. Official records place her date of death as 4th of Last Snow, 3E09 -- one month after Sapphire Melody last saw her.

I have not been able to bring myself to deliver the news.

Interview Three: Silver Cypress

Interview Three: Silver Cypress
12th of Summer's Sun, 4E01

Silver Cypress is a cautious stallion. No doubt his job has something to do with it: For twenty-seven years, Mr. Cypress has been the head of the Knights' Rangers, an organization with roots stretching back to the second era. Originally meant to combat the creatures that would frequently crawl, slither and fly their way out of the Everfree forest to make a meal out of one or more unfortunate ponies, the Rangers have since taken up a position of vigilance and prevention, rather than straight combat. No doubt many of you will have never even heard of them; their numbers are small and their organization fairly private. Only after a month and a half of letters, negotations, and inquiries was I able to secure an interview with its senior member.

An older pegasus, now well into his fifties, Silver Cypress shows the scars of many battles and encounters over his long career. I am immediately struck by a long, jagged scar running down his left side, faded red gouges against his dark green coat and close-cropped silver mane, culminating in a mangled wing appendage that is scarcely a third the size of its twin on the other side of his body. Part of his left ear is missing, and he walks with a noticeable limp on at least one of his legs.

Despite these wounds, the old stallion no less of an imposing figure, standing half a head taller than myself. He speaks with authority as I chat with him at a small outpost on the edge of the Everfree forest.

"I've been a Ranger for the entirety of my adult life. Seen a lot of things come stompin' outta that forest that would make most folk run in the opposite direction real quick-like. Used to be we would see three, maybe four of those monsters a week. Now...well, ain't nothin' comin' outta there. And that's just fine by me.

Speakin' of which, is that what they sent you out here for? To check up on the forest or somethin'? I spoke with someone from your historian guild or whatever the hell, said you were interested in a look-see."

In a manner of speaking. I'm actually not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be looking for; all I was told was that you found something that might be of interest.

"Huh. Well, if he was talkin' about what I think he was talkin' about, you're gonna be real interested indeed. I'd try to explain a bit better, but...some things ya gotta see with your own eyes, son."

At this point a younger stallion comes trotting out of the watch post, a sword swaying from either side. He yanks on a rip cord, letting the swords clatter to the ground at our hooves.

"Here, ya better take one of these just in case. You know how to use one of these, right? No? It's real simple: The pointy end goes in the bad thing. Hell, you don't even have to worry about getting a good mouth-hold on it, what with that fancy horn of yours."

I wasn't expecting to have to be armed, Mister Cypress.

"And I wasn't expecting to have a manticore nearly tear me wide open, but shit happens." (His expression becomes deathly serious) "I'm not sure what you're expecting, son, so let me be outright honest with you: As soon as we cross into that forest, you are fair game for a lot of things out there. The forest, it don't run in time with the rest of the world. Things are different in there. Very different. And if you think for one second that your little quill and paper will save you, you are very wrong.

That said, there's three very basic rules if you're going to follow me in. One: Stick by my side at all times, no matter what. I don't care what you see or what you hear, you do not wander off. Understood? Good. Rule number two: Keep your eyes open and your ears on a swivel. Stay alert, stay alive. And three: If, for some reason, we do get separated, you run. Run as fast as you can back out the way you came. Don't try to find me, and for Celestia's sake, do not start shouting. If you do, you'll just mark yourself as being weak. And the weak don't last in the Everfree forest. Do you understand everything I've told you? Are you sure? Alright, then. Let's get movin'. Darkness comes much faster in the forest than it does out here, and I don't fancy gettin' caught in there at night."

More than a little worried, I set off with Cypress. We cross a second, smaller checkpoint manned by a pair of pegasi. After a brief conversation they let us cross through. As soon as we enter the forest I am immediately struck by how dark it is, even in the light of mid-day. It's also much louder than I had imagined, a cacaphony of unknown creature calls and sounds. I keep my sword in a strap on my saddlebag, though truth be told I would much rather run than try to trust my life with a weapon I know next to nothing about.

"The place you're lookin' for is about a twenty minute walk from here, so stick close." (He looks over his shoulder) "You're wonderin' about the scar, ain't ya? Come on, now. No need to be polite. It's not exactly an easy thing to miss, I know. Remember when I said I was nearly torn apart by a manticore? I wasn't just bullshittin' ya. Happened round about eight years ago, on an otherwise uneventful patrol. I was checkin' on reports of creature activity with my buddy Stonewall. We'd been getting more and more reports at the time; the pointy-headed scholarly types -- no offense -- said it was because of that Nightmare Moon thing, before she was put in her place by the Princess, or whatever happened. Somethin' about increased dark energy or magic or somethin' like that. Made as much sense as anything I could think of.

Anyway, we were on patrol and got attacked by a manticore. You ever see a manticore, Mister Scroll?"

Can't say I have. I'd like to keep it that way.

"Heh, smart thing to say. Manticores are big creatures, with the body of a lion, wings like a bat, and a big, poisonous scorpion tail. And they're exactly as vicious as you'd imagine such a thing to be. One of the suckers pounced on us when we'd landed to fill our canteens in a stream; I was the first to be attacked. Damn thing got its teeth into my side and yanked for all it was worth. For good measure it stuck me right in the wing with that stinger. Stonewall was on it nearly as fast as it was on me, but we ponies ain't exactly scary to a creature come straight outta your nightmares. I was already fading in and out of consciousness at this point, just bleedin' everywhere. I don't remember much from that encounter, but I clearly remember Stonewall shoving his sword right into that bastard's throat, over and over again. Nearly took its head off! Even with most of its head detached from its body it was still thrashing around and trying to stick us with that tail, but Stonewall was always a pretty lucky guy. Didn't get more than a scratch on him, heh heh. Sumbitch he was."

(A small bundle is pulled from his saddlebag, looking like wrapped leaves of some kind. He pops it into his mouth, chews it a few times, and tucks it into his cheek)

"The thing about manticore venom is that it's not meant to kill, only debilitate. Manticores like their meals live and screaming when they're being devoured. And believe me, it debilitates very well. It took a few seconds for that venom to work its way through my system, but once it did...well, felt like I was on fire. Screaming in agony. Stonewall dressed my wound as best he could and hauled my ass outta the forest to the nearest aid station. They stabilized me until I could be moved to Canterlot for surgery. Lost most of my wing, but shit, I'm still alive. All I can really ask for. Poor Stonewall...he ended up gettin' taken out by a pack of timberwolves a few years later."

I'm sorry to hear that. He sounds like he was a good stallion.

"One of the best. But that's the risk you take with this job. Once in a while I still get lingering pain from the venom, likely will for the rest of my life. Fortunate for me I ran into a zebra lady a few years ago who showed me how to make a quick-actin' painkiller. Pretty simple, really: Ya just take a small piece of bark from a shade-leaf tree, wrap a few leaves around it, and bite down. That gets it releasin' a natural somethin'-or-other that dulls the pain. Tastes like bitter shit, though. I add a little mint to it to keep it tolerable."

Silver Cypress is mostly quiet for the rest of the walk. He never complains, even though it's clear he's seen better days. Eventually I ask him what he knows about Ponyville.

"Just as much as anypony else. From what I hear they've still got the entire town locked down, ain't no one allowed in or out. No livin' folk allowed in or out, anyway. I was visiting some family in Canterlot when news started spreading about Ponyville going to hell. We all thought it was a tornado or somethin' like that. What'd they say it was? Ghosts?"

Paranormal activity of some sort. I don't think "ghosts" really conveys it properly.

"Hmm. Well whatever the case, some weird shit started goin' down. I couldn't be bothered to find out more; had my hooves busy with all kinds of big nasties wantin' to make their way out of the forest as soon as I got back. Shitty timing, that."

You said there was an increase in mythological creature activity around when Nightmare Moon was returning. Do you think the subsequent increase in sightings during Ponyville's incident was related?

"Could be. Manticores, hydras, basilisks...these things ain't like normal critters, like bears or wolves. They're drawn to magic, both good and bad. Uh, speakin' of which, you might want to be careful with that levitation spell of yours. Probably not strong enough to draw somethin' out, but ya never know. But yeah, I suppose it's possible. Somethin' powerful enough to spread around dark magic or energy or somethin' could conceivably draw out the big guys.

Spot's just up ahead here, watch your step, this place is lousy with thorns."

The cramped confines of the forest give way to a large, circular clearing. Compared to the rest of the forest, it's incredibly quiet. Uncomfortably so. I'm struck by just how grey everything looks -- besides a few scattered flowers sprouting from vines, everything seems to have had the life drained from it. Even the trees are barren.

"Here we are. This what you were lookin' for?"

I have no idea, but it sure looks like it.

"We found this place just over a year ago. Wasn't this bad back then, just scattered spots where the grass wasn't growing. Obviously it's grown since then. Seems to have stopped a few months back, but it hasn't receded. Just stays here, lookin' like an eyesore for every pegasus that flies by."

Cypress suddenly draws his sword, slashing at a vine near me before I can even react. The vine audibly squeals before reeling back.

"Shit, that was too close. Whatever you do, don't let that fuckin' thing get wrapped around you. We have no idea what it really is, but we call it 'vampire vine'. Looks harmless enough, I know. Let it get those big leaves around you, though, and the bright-red flowers along its length suddenly sprout hollow thorns as long as your hoof. I've seen 'em suck a bobcat dry in minutes. Damn stuff started appearing a little while after the grey splotches showed up."

I am suddenly aware of a high-pitched ringing in my ears; my head starts to ache and I'm forced to sit down for a moment. I try to float my canteen from my pack, only to find that the act of using my magic causes the headache to intensify briefly.

"Hey, take it easy, son. You alright?"

Mr. Cypress, have you had any unicorns come through here with you before?

"Not me personally, no. But one of the other Rangers did. He said it felt 'wrong' out here, like...oh, how did he put it...like it wasn't just 'dark' magic, but a lack of magic. Like a void. I probably should have mentioned that before, but it's been a long time since I've had a unicorn come out here with me. Apologies. You feelin' okay? You sure? Good. There's a few more points of interest if you'll follow me. And stay close."

The ringing in my ears finally subsides, along with the headache, though a dull feeling of emptiness remains. The idea of coming out here in the first place suddenly seems less intelligent. And yet, amidst the grey, lifeless terrain, something catches my attention. It's incredibly brilliant, a shining mote of the purest orange I've ever seen. I am inexorably drawn to it. Cypress' words play through my head, but I remind myself that I am here for answers. Cautiously, I approach the mote of light. It flits away. I follow it. I know I shouldn't, but I feel compelled to. Caution is thrown to the wind as any doubt is cast from my mind, like it was never there. This is great! I feel like a child again!

I find myself laughing as I chase the swirling ball of glowing orange. It leads me to a small stream, where it suddenly stops. I attempt to reach out and touch it, but it's just beyond my reach. It dips into the water and disappears. It feels like I have lost something exceptionally important, and I am overcome by the urge to search for it. I frantically splash at the water to no avail. Just then, the euphoric feeling is gone, as if it was never there in the first place. I realize I am alone and begin to panic. Movement in the water catches my eye; a reflection. I turn around. And freeze.

There, less than a foreleg's distance from me, is a pony. Or at least, something that used to be a pony. Its entire body, from tail to muzzle, is a sickening white. It's not just a color, but a lack of color. Great, black holes stare back from where its eyes should be. I open my mouth to scream, but find myself unable to move. It remains absolutely silent as it slowly cocks its head at me. I am so terrified that I linger on the edge of passing out. A sensation of movement makes it way up my left hind leg, then another. And another. Large, red flowers enter my vision, sprouting from thick, jagged vines.

I realize I am going to die, but I don't care; death would be preferable to another moment of the abject horror that wracks my body. I silently pray for it to end quickly. The deathly pony steps closer, its mouth working up and down, but no sounds come out.

The ringing in my ears returns, louder than before. It's almost painful. I am reminded of Sweetie Belle, and how she had a similar experience with the sound. Half-heard whispers play at the edge of my hearing, like a thousand voices all vying for my attention. At once they stop, a single voice sounding above the rest. I feel the words, rather than hear them. I stare at the horrible visage in front of me, its empty blackness gazing in return.

A blade of pure ice feels as if it is drawn down my spine. And then, as quickly as it appeared, the ghostly pony vanishes, blowing away like a million grains of sand in the wind. The vines recede from my body, slinking away into the grey, dead terrain. Silver Cypress appears from around the corner, wildly swinging his sword at any vines along the way. My vision narrows until darkness is all I can see.

When I awaken, I am in a bed. Later, they tell me that I was carried out by Cypress and another Ranger. They had not expected to find me alive. Instead, the old stallion informed me, it was to be a final effort to find my body. Confused, I ask them why they were so quick to jump to such a conclusion.

"Because," he said, "you were missing for three days."