The Melody That Refused To Die
Prologue- In The Concert Hall
Author's Note
I apologize that this work is currently so short, hopefully your desires for more will soon be granted.
Prologue- In The Concert Hall
As her eyes drifted close so too did her cello's bow drift to the ground. Finally she felt she was truly relaxed. It was thanks to the echoing walls of the emptied concert hall that she was able to enjoy the dying tune to its last. Sometimes fine things can come about even from the worst of situations. But like all things fine it could not hope to last, however hard she wished otherwise.
"As enchanting as ever, my beautiful flower. What do you call it?"
Octavia let out a heavy sigh that she hasn't realized she had been holding in.
"You're late. I could have left already." She growled.
"You were hoping I wouldn't show, weren't you?" Her glare confirmed this as he moved closer, "My dear, I will never leave your side. Surely by now you've realized. You're a smart filly."
The sharp clipping sound of hooves across the fine wood was the only sound for a few moments. Octavia, showing the restraint to hold back her tart response, could do nothing but watch. In these moments, in all the moments where he was present, she could do nothing. He saw to that. She could not blink, she could not growl. And she most certainly could not run. She could only watch as the charred form of a once handsome stallion made his way closer. He would have it no other way.
"You should learn to fear the day I don't show." His words turned to ice and the very temperature in the room plummeted.
"Don't..." Octavia's teeth chattered, "Threaten me..."
He chortled and just like that the freezing temperatures broke, returning once more to the comfortable rate of before.
“I would never harm such a willing victim. As long you continue to serve as I bid, and continue it as satisfactorily, I will have no reason to harm even a single hair in your well groomed mane. Tell me, is that jasmine I smell?”
His blackened hoof reached out to brush aside a single lock of mane, much to Octavia’s apprehension. The hair shriveled up at his touch, going from dark grey to pure black within moments.
“One does not always have to mean harm to cause it,” He mused, “I’m sure you know this quite well.”
Octavia pulled herself away from him, a hoofful of dust falling from her mane, “Do you have a job for me to do or are you simply here to waste time that could be spent getting rid of your hold over me?”
“And here I was, misguided into the thought that you and I could live in harmony. Such a pitiful fool I was,” His grin came back with full force, wiped away by a twist of his hoof, “You’ll find your latest job was left for you in your dressing room, I am afraid I have other matters that need attending to now. Farewell, my dear, and try not to perish before your time.”
All the muscles in her body relaxed with startling suddenness as he dissipated into a thick smoke and she collapsed solidly. The release she felt couldn’t last long as her lungs seized up from the acrid smoke that sneaked its way inside of her.
“Damn you...Damn you to Tartarus…” Octavia wheezed helplessly, lungs struggling for the air to form those words.
Her sight enveloped in red as blood vessels popped in her eyes. Like everything else though, this was not to last long for her and soon red faded to black as she passed out in short order.
When next she found herself waking it was to a sight very much unchanged. The concert hall was just as she left it. Better in fact the smoke was gone and with it the terrible smell too. Her cello was missing from where it had been resting before, but that seem to be the only disturbance she could find. A minor annoyance compared to the presents he had left her during previous occasions. But none the less, such a loss could do her some harm if not remedied quickly enough. Without her instrument, her very profession was mute.
That was the trouble that one faced working for a demon lord.
With terse footsteps and a stony air about herself that would have sent any other pony around scurrying, she headed straight to her dressing room. With the concert hall being closed to the public for private practice no other ponies even caught a glimpse of her swishing tail.
Walking through these familiar halls had the comforting effect of relaxing the uptight mare and by the time she reached the door marked with her cutie mark, her breathing was slow and even. In her head she was counting, each breath in was one and each breath out another. It was a technique she had learned in primary school, back when her parents wanted her to simply live life as a lady. For those with cunning or need, even the most delicate can serve their uses though. Whatever job she might find on the other side of this door, it was nothing that she couldn’t handle.
As the door swung open with nary a sound, it was peacefulness that answered her queries. There were no blood smears, no screaming tomes of undying sprites, nothing. On the small end table was the only new addition to the room. Or rather, as she saw as she got closer, two new additions. The first one that she had noticed was a vase like that a fan might gift upon her, filled with the loveliest of roses. The second was an envelope, sealed with golden wax. It was the Sun’s seal, a seal reserved only for important occasions.
And there was only one such occasion coming up.
The Grand Galloping Gala.
She truly hated that stallion. If she could only count the reasons she wanted him dead...
