Chapters Late in the subterranean autumn, when the flora glows especially bright, a soon to be mother cries out for her husband. The midwives rush to and fro in preparation for the foal’s arrival, and in the warm glow of the Sunburst flowers that grew about their room, Jack O’Lantern approached his pregnant wife. His green eyes glittered anxiously as he tenderly wiped the tears and sweat from his wife’s face, and nuzzled her reassuringly. She was a strong pony when it came to her mind and her beliefs, but she never had been able to handle pain very well, and Jack knew with certainty that she was well above her small level of tolerance for it.
The pregnancy was healthy and to term, but as the labor progressed there seemed to develop some complications. The foal appeared to be stuck, and none of the midwives or nurses had been really prepared for it. Not wanting to jump into drastic measures, they’d sent for the local doctor who had not yet arrived. Jack O’Lantern was beginning to feel a growing sense of dread creep over him and as the intensity of the moment constantly attempted to overwhelm his senses, his heart pounded with every cry and pain laden moan of his beloved wife.
The very idea of becoming a father threatened to push him over the edge… he didn’t even want children. They were too much work and he believed they took so much away from adult relationships. But when Moondrop became pregnant, what could he do? She had seemed so happy at the news…he could never have had the heart to tell her the truth of how he felt on the matter. A truth that had been slowly festering in the back of his mind as the months had passed, and now that the moment was here, the tension threatened to push him with a whole new force from panic and straight into terror. With a new wave of contractions seeping heavily in, Moondrop arched her back awkwardly and cried out in pain.
“We don’t have any more time to wait for the doctor!” shouted the midwife. “We have the tools to deliver surgically here, we need to act now.” She gathered the nurses to begin emergency cesarean procedures on Moondrop, while Jack was hurriedly pushed from the room. With heart pounding and head throbbing, Jack stepped away from the door to the bedroom just as it slammed in his face.
Being pushed from her in her time of need not only angered him, but was enough to push his already panicked mind into a new gear of hysterics. His stomach felt like he’d swallowed a large rock, and he felt his throat suddenly shrink. Rushing to the nearby restroom, Jack forcefully gagged and emptied the contents of his stomach. Tears streamed down his face and he shuddered with the painful heaves. In the other room, his wife's cries had grown loud, to the point where the sound of it ringing in his ears brought him to the floor, trembling.
Completely overwhelmed, Jack dry-heaved again before roughly resting himself against the wall, eyes closed and head in his hooves. The room was spinning around him horribly, tempting nausea to come again. Jack trembled with every muffled cry of his wife and openly wept in the dark room. Gradually, his breathing regulated and the beating of his heart slowed. What felt like an eternity had passed before he was no longer deafened by the painful throbbing in his ears.
With trepidation, he peeked his eyes open slightly. The dizziness had faded enough, and his vision managed to focus on his back legs lain out before him. His white fur was made somewhat green from the glow of the Ivy pots that hung on the wall. Everything in the room was tinted green by them, and for a brief moment, the cool glow lulled him into a sense of comfort. Jack quickly jerked away from the temporary lull of peace as the sour smell of his own breathe and the mess he’d made of the toilet reached his nose. Cringing, he flushed the mess away and proceeded to the sink to clean himself up. As he splashed cool water over his face, the sound of the expected doctor arriving at the door grabbed his attention.
Jack scrambled to the entry of the bathroom as the doctor, surely alarmed by the screaming from the bedroom, raced by. The austerity of the moment slammed back into Jack's brain, and he quickly followed the doctor through the door of the room. One of the nurses caught him before he could go very far and apologizes, explaining to him that the doctor should hopefully be able to help from there on out, but that it would probably be best if Jack remained waiting patiently outside the room. He reluctantly allows her to lead him out as he desperately tries to peer over the crowd of ponies surrounding his wife.
Tick… Tick… Tick…minutes slowly crept torturously into an hour, and the room eventually fell quieter. Sitting outside of the room where the nurse had left him, Jack realized that there really was something more terrifying to him than the idea of being a parent, more terrifying than the pained screams of his wife. He sat still, and horrified, listening intently for a sound, any sound other than the dreadful heartbeat of the wall clock. If they were talking within the room, they were doing so quietly enough that he couldn’t hear a thing. It was the silence of the moment, of the room, that scared him above all else.
A day that was once meant to be of laughter and new-found joy had fallen into silence… and an agonizing slowing of time. To his relief, after an excruciating hour, the silent eternity ended. There, very suddenly, was the muffled sound of small crying. The room became softly abuzz with indiscernible words. Shortly after, the doctor finally emerged from the room, looking pale and grim. He walked softly over to Jack, who sat with an unnatural reticence as the doctor knelt to sit beside him.
“Your wife isn’t doing well, Jack, but your baby is alive and will be fine. We’re taking care of the foal for now, getting her cleaned up and everything, but I’d recommend you go in and be with your wife now while you can…” the doctor said, pleading understanding towards Jack’s calculating look. “We are doing all we can for her, but even with the help of magic, she just doesn’t seem to be healing. I don’t think she’ll be with us for much longer….” The doctor put a hoof on Jack’s shoulder, and smiled sadly before letting his face drop, “I’m so sorry…” Jack’s already punished stomach dropped again. He stared blankly for a moment before snapping to his feet and running into the room to his wife, the doctor left behind him.
“Moondrop! I-“ he began, but her condition silenced him. She lay flat, her usually lustrous coat was no longer the beautiful shade of soft pink he remembered. It was matted, faded whiter and she looked up sullenly at him through dark circled eyes. He brushed her lilac mane from her face and nuzzled her snout, feeling her smile weakly. Looking tenderly up at him she spoke.
“She’s beautiful, Jack. She’s simply beautiful.” He looked briefly towards the cramped group of nurses fussing over a small bundle he could barely see. “Jack…” Moondrop whispered, reclaiming his attention. “Please… Love her every day… for both of us… I…” she wheezed with no small amount of strain in her voice, “I love…” Before she could finish her final thoughts, the light of her eyes faded and her body gently fell limp.
“M-moondrop?” Jack stammered. “Moon? …pl-pease don’t leave me. I can’t do this by myself…” tears rolled freely down his face and the room went quiet again. The doctor and the nurses who had waited observantly came over and covered her gently with the blankets from the bed and consoled Jack as best they could. Not a word of it reached him though; Jack just stared hollowly at the outline of his wife beneath the sheet.
He couldn’t help but feel that somehow she must still be alive. That at any minute she’d move, she’d roll over, merely asleep. She’d look to him and smile as she did every morning. She’d kiss him softly and remind him of how much she loved him. She’d curl up closer beside him and hum quietly. And he’d remember just how lucky he was, just how much he didn’t deserve her. How much he wanted to make her proud and happy. But she didn’t move, she didn’t smile, nor kiss or hum. She was gone.
His thoughts were broken when the midwife gently cleared her throat. He turned his puffy, bloodshot eyes to her and onto what she held. There in her arms was a tiny, soft bundle of pink blankets. The midwife carefully handed the tiny foal to Jack O’Lantern, who stared in amazement at the tiny unicorn beneath him. She had soft grey fur and a fluffy black mane.
A slow, sad smile crept across Jack’s face as the little pony carefully opened her fresh, blue eyes and squinted hazily up at him. For the past how many months he’d been terrified of being a father. He had utterly dreaded the coming moment of even holding this foal. But now, with her in his arms, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. Looking down at this newborn child, knowing that she was his very own, and was the joy of the mare he loved, he would never give her up.
“She’s got her mother’s eyes.” He teared up. The midwife smiled a bit, but then said cautiously, “But, there is something you should know… she is… abnormal.” Jack’s indignant expression brought her to explain more clearly, “What I mean to say is that… we’ve never seen anything like this before. She’s unlike any foal known to exist since the time of… well, since the time of the Old Kingdom.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jack growled defensively. The midwife, taken aback, carefully unfolded the foal’s blanket and exposed two tiny wings at her sides, as well as the beginning growth of the horn atop her forehead. She spoke softly, “She’s completely healthy, but… we’re not really sure what to make of this.” Jack stared, astounded at the little foal.
“But, w-what does this mean? What do I do?” he stammered. The midwife shook her head, she was visibly shaken by it as well. She assured him that they could only assume she would likely be like any other child, but as for what her birth portended, it was likely that there was nopony left alive who could possibly know. It could mean absolutely nothing, or perhaps be a sign of great things to come. With that, she left him to his thoughts, and the ponies went about cleaning and clearing the room. Jack, still holding his foal, looked to his wife’s body. He would be strong from now on, that he swore. He swore it if not for to honor his wife’s memory, but for his child…his last real connection to her.
As had become custom for efficiency, her body would be taken to the local morgue and burned that very night. The following morn they would go to the edge of the forest and plant a new tree of the family’s choice in her ashes. Leaning over, Jack kissed Moondrop’s forehead one last time and claimed pointedly, “I will take care of her, Moondrop. I promise you that for as long as I am still living, I will protect her.”
The next morning, Jack, with friends and close family in tow, walked to the forest. Deep in the special cemetery grove, as the others watched mournfully, he carefully buried Moondrop’s ashes, which bore in them the seed of a Moonglow Pear. In the years to come, her remains would be the fuel to grow a beautiful and fruitful tree that her family may come and find respite in. Tears welling up, the only thing Jack could find comfort in was in knowing that there would at least be a beautiful memorial he could bring their daughter to. That in some way, their little girl could still come visit her mother…
Author's Note
I've never written anything that really made an attempt to be sad or so quickly try to develope character connections, so please be gentle in critiquing this. But please,please, please don't be afraid to comment and offer up ideas of improvment, I'm always looking to become better.
Chapter One: Amity (edited)
Amity sat alone in the kitchen, staring wide-eyed and anxiously at the wall clock. Tick, tick, tick…she’d been watching, unmoving for what felt like had been hours now. It probably had been, of course, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care anymore. She watched in awful silence as the little arrows move closer and closer to the time she’d been dreading most for the last few days. Five, four, three, two, one…to the very hour, he had been missing for exactly three days now. Three days. In Elmsgate it was firmly believed that if a missing pony did not come back by the third day, they were best to be assumed dead.
What was worse, it was considered taboo to even speak of them. So Amity continued to watch the clock, heart heavy and eyes puffy from a combination of tears and lack of sleep. In the whole of her fairly short life, being only 20 years of age, he’d never left her all alone. Not like this. The silence closing heavily in on her, she finally turned her gaze away, setting it mournfully upon the pictures which adorned the walls.
There, so many memories were hung neatly and gracefully with care, not any one of them less valuable than another. But once that clock struck the hour, they were transformed into bitter reminders that now, the town would fall as silent as her dwelling; only the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall to bear witness to the emptiness of what was once a happy home. After this evening, nopony would ever speak again of his disappearance, or the fact that he’d existed at all. His name would go unuttered by all ponies with a lick of good sense to them. Nopony would dare, nopony would want to be next.
With a sigh bordering on a soft wail, Amity rose to her feet. The wall was tormenting her with the memories it bore. In their carefully made frames they held many birthdays past, Hearthswarming carols, flying lessons, winter chills and autumn harvests and so much more…all of them staring back at her with eyes now empty and fearful. Slowly, she turned away from the wall and walked from the room.
Now in the living room, Amity, by then almost from muscle memory, climbed gently on to the waiting sofa. It wasn’t that late in the evening, but after the events of the past days, she was feeling beyond exhausted. And she was well aware that in the morning, she’d be faced with an onslaught of silent pity and regretful stares. She knew that there would be a number of neighbors and even family who would desperately wish to say something, to offer some sort of condolences, but out of fear all would just open and close their mouths for a few moments before giving up and walking on. She’d seen it happen before.
Over the years a number of friends and acquaintances had loved ones disappear, and ponies always reacted in the same way. Not even a funeral would be held…not for anypony who disappeared. Hear none, see none, speak none. That was the town’s motto. Despite Elmsgate’s natural floral beauty, it was marred indefinitely by the fear that so presently ruled their lives that there was really no beauty left to be had in it.
She looked about the familiar room, everything neatly in its place. Her father always kept their home immaculate, sometimes cleaning for hours what was already spotless in her eyes. With a sad smile, Amity leaned a hoof over the nearby coffee table, nudging the old decorative vase slightly out of its place. Returning her hoof to rest, she closed her eyes. Maybe she could pretend, if only for a little while that the misplaced vase would somehow bring him home; that at any minute now she’d hear the door open and the familiar gate of his hooves plodding softly upon the planked floor of the kitchen. She felt tears welling up again as an old memory pushed its way forth from the depths of her mind. It surfaced with a pang bordering on a bittersweet happiness, and she wept openly over it.
When she was just a young filly she’d come home from her primary school in tears one day, swearing to her father that she’d never go back. At the school here was a particularly ‘large for her age’ filly who found her joy in being cruel to the others. To put it simply, the filly was both physically and mentally abusive to anypony and everypony around her. Something, Amity noted, that did not change with age either. When the other filly had gotten her cutie mark, it came as no surprise when it turned out that her special talent was breaking bones.
But when they were small, Amity had been one of her favorite picks for bullying. At the time she’d sworn that she’d never go back, her father smiled understandingly, saying nothing at first, only listened as he cleaned her cuts and the dirt off of her coat. When he had finished, he then sat her down and held her closely. It wasn’t as much the hug that struck her memory so fiercely. It was what he had said to her that mattered most.
“Amity, the world we live in isn’t a very nice place. I’m not going to hide that from you. And the truth is that bad ponies are always going to exist in it.” Her father spoke softly. “But when faced with bad times and bad ponies we are also facing a choice. We can lie down and allow the evils of the world to continue, or we can stand against it. It’s not always a winning battle, no, but even if you lose, you lost doing what was right instead of what was easy.” Amity looked up at him as he’d said this; he was smiling encouragingly down at her. She found it strange that these words so suddenly came to mind, as though reminding her that although tough times obviously lay ahead of her, he expected her to be strong in the face of it and to keep going on…to not let the world win.
Her thoughts continued on in the memory until they went as a blur, and after what seemed like a small eternity later Amity peeked her eyes open again, only to gasp in alarm. She was no longer looking at the familiar sight of her organized sitting room. What lay before her now both confused and frightened her. She was surrounded by other ponies of all kinds, a growing roar of frightened, whispering voices threatened to drown out her own.
In a panic, Amity tried to move, only to discover that her wings were firmly bound to her sides and her legs tightly shackled and chained to the ponies beside her. In the same way they were bound and chained to those around them. She looked around herself desperately to find a means of escape, only to find none. Despite all her attempts to pull and break, the chains stayed strong and held tightly. She began to call out to the others for help, and to help themselves, when the voices stopped in waves.
All attention was pointed to a raised stage not too far ahead of where she stood. She soon saw what called everypony’s attention so aptly. Three tall, noble looking mares were being cruelly jabbed and prodded up to the stage, their flowing manes matted and disheveled. Despite the jaunts and jabs from their captors, the mares stood noble and strong, gracefully holding their heads reserved and high. The proud crowns upon their heads glistened against the light of the fire lit sky.
Only at this moment did Amity really take notice of her more distant surroundings, almost as though they hadn’t been there before. Smoke and ash billowing fervently up above and caused the sky overhead to appear blood red as the sun rose; it was as if the sun were crying its light into the world. They also appeared to be in some sort of castle courtyard on the edge of a mountain, as they were surrounded by a seemingly endless landscape of desert, fire and ash. An acrid wind blew the remnants in, the smell of ash and death on its cindery breath.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a deep, echoing boom. All heads in the crowd turned to the source of the noise. Behind them, a tower loomed and its gigantic sets of double doors were opened with obvious force. A hot, near blinding light pulsed on the other side, her first assumption being that it was a large fire. Amity wished she could look away from it, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Something within the flames had caught her eye. The light was moving toward the crowd of ponies. Swirling at its center she could barely make out the white-hot outline of a pony, the flames pulsing wildly at his every step.
In terror-stricken silence, all eyes watched the pony as it marched its way around the crowd and up onto the stage. Amity was near enough to the platform that if she craned her neck slightly, she could see all that was going on. The three regal mares on the stage were visibly shaken, though as best as they could, they still kept their heads high with a noble reserve. They remained beautiful, despite the situation they were in.
Amity focused on them more closely this time, there was something she’d missed in her terror. Amity’s eyes widened, the highly decorated mares were not like the other ponies around them. They were, well, they were like herself. Her father had once told her that long ago there had been other ponies that had also bore both wings and a horn, but he would never tell her much more than that. Nopony did. Speak none, she supposed. Her thoughts turned back to moment when the large fiery pony stepped forward upon the stage. He glared out over the ponies in the crowd, who shrunk back from him. His silent presence was as frightening as the fire he wrought.
“Look upon your people, princesses. See how they tremble in fear!” the pony finally spoke, his booming voice broke the tense silence. “And look upon your precious princesses, people of Equestria. And remember well this day, for upon this dawn their tyranny ends!” Amity covered her ears in pain, crying out along with many others as he spoke. The stallion’s words burned as hot as his mane and every word was as smooth and felt as hot as molten glass being poured into their ears.
“Today, I see you free from your bonds!” He bellowed fiercely. “I. Free. You…free you from the bonds of your “magical friendship”, and these deceiving princesses. All who bow before me shall finally know true peace!” he continued, “Now watch closely, as justice is done!” The stallion, his flames lightening enough to finally better see his form, smiled wrathfully out at the mass of ponies. To the shock of crowd, he too bore the presence of both a horn and wings. The air buzzed with tension, kept only silent enough by the dreadful presence of the fiery stallion before them. A few whispers passed through the crowd though, murmurs about unnatural magic and false kings.
As the crowd and the male alicorn watched, the royal mares were brought forward one by one. The tallest white mare being first, the dark blue mare was next and the shorter, pink mare was lined up last. Amity found herself holding her breath; it appeared that all three of these princesses were staring directly at her with terrified eyes as they were forced to their knees. Their graceful necks were painfully stretched out as far as they could reach and were then lain across a long, dirty block of wood prepared upon the stage. Tears welled in their eyes. Grimy, singed wicker baskets had been placed at the ready beneath each of their heads. The awful stallion, gleaming gloriously, then produced a long blade from the flames of his mane, which glowed brightly in the hot grasp of his magic.
“Now BOW!” his voice roared, flaring his flames up high. With a single, forceful swing he brought the hot blade through their necks almost fluidly. The princess’ heads fell as ponies shrieked. Amity found herself staring horrified and shocked at what she had just seen. The world around her felt muffled and distant, as it slowly drifted and melted away from her. When she came back to her senses, everything was quiet and black save for herself and the three baskets that contained the heads of the princesses.
No longer shackled, she trembled and slowly stepped forward, unsure of what she was expecting to see. She leaned over to peer into the baskets and down upon the three heads. She found each in a pool of strangely colored blood. The blood was unnatural beyond that though, it almost flowed and glimmered, as though it was nearly glowing and swirling about in the basket. It was hard to measure in thickness or depth, and it was as beautiful as it was strange.
As Amity stared down at the fascinating ichors, she couldn’t understand why, but she felt like she was staring into the very heart of the solar system and of the planet. Mesmerized, Amity leaned closer in to the gorgeous fluid. She began to hear a distant dripping sound. It came on quietly at first, on the very edges of her hearing. But it progressively grew stronger and more frequent until each drop felt as though it was drilling heavily into her sanity, as though something were screaming silently at her beneath the noise of every drop with the intensity of a great many years.
As the dripping grew louder and louder, Amity began to wince, but couldn’t look away from the sad, dead stares of the heads in their ichor. Very subtly at first, almost unnoticeable, the heads of the pink and white mares began to twitch and move. The movement progressed and they slowly rose from their baskets; the beautiful ichor suddenly running black. It began coagulating and became very viscous and thick. Now very sticky and dense, the black goo began sticking and building up around the heads in order to create grotesque and unpony-like bodies.
The once elegant heads began to twist and be distorted to fit their new bodies. As Amity attempted to backpedal in horror, she found she could not run away. The blood had overflowed the baskets and had gummed up around her hooves, holding them down. It quickly began crawling its way up her legs and her body, it felt slimy and hot against her skin and it smelled intensely of rotted flesh. Amity screamed and tried to squirm and kick the disgusting substance from her body, to little avail. The sticky blood latched up onto her neck, and the two former princesses began trotting in ever-closer circles around her, laughing hollowly while their fleshy makeshift feet slapped wetly into the sticky mess that had become the ground. The black goo was attempting to crawl into her ears, nose, mouth and eyes, when suddenly a regal voice bellowed out from the dark.
“Enough!” a flash of silver-blue light emanated from the third basket, the viscous blood mess and the creatures that the other two princesses had become began blowing away coldly as nothing more than ash. The head of the third princess, eyes aglow, stared blankly out at her from its basket. The glow slowly faded as Amity fell to the ground and sobbed. It took a few moments to recover her bearings, and once she had collected her nerves, Amity began to feel as though she was being called out to.
Rising to her feet, she stepped closer to the basket, tears blurring her vision. The dead, melancholy expression had stayed upon the head’s face, but it looked almost sadder and more urgent than she remembered before. With blue lips unmoving, the head spoke softly again in the same voice that had saved her before, “Amity…Seek it out and ye shall find. Please, you must purify what has been poisoned. Set right what is wrong!”
Author's Note
It's 6:30 in the morning. I've literally spent all night reading carefully through this multiple times to try and catch any flaws in it...I'm tired... so there's probably going to be some errors. Possibly a lot. I don't know. Anyway, I need a proof reader terribly.
Edit: I've now cropped this part of the story much shorter, and the rest of it can be found in the later chapters. This is for ease of reading.
Amity awoke with a trembling, frightened start. She did not recall when she had fallen asleep, but tearstains marked her cheeks and her eyes began to well up again as she recounted the horrible dream in her mind. Still shaking, and in a cold sweat, she warily stared around the room that had seemed so comforting before. Dawn had broken by the time she woke up; she knew this because the plants around the room were glowing especially bright. It stood as the mark of dawn in the sunless world, which, if her dream was anything to go by, was inadequate compared to the real thing above ground.
The vase on the table was still misplaced, and that just made her feel worse. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Amity climbed off of the couch, more eager to start the terrible day ahead than to drift back to sleep. She climbed the staircase in the corner and softly tread past her father’s doorway at the top and, ignoring the nagging heartache, she slipped through the door across the hall and into her own room. She hadn’t come up there much since her father disappeared. So everything there, though familiar, felt almost missed, like when one returns from a long trip.
Amity sat down gloomily on the stool in front of her vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were surprisingly leery and alert, but also very tired. She looked absolutely awful. That would have to change if she expected to go anywhere that day, and considering the current lack of food in her home, that was an unfortunate must. With a sigh, she lifted her hair brush with her magic and began to freshen herself up. After brushing the tangles from her hair, she selected her usual dress from her closet, and made a trip to the washroom to clean the aftermath of three distraught days from her body.
Afterward, Amity found herself walking back down the stairs and into the kitchen. She looked at herself in the reflection of the mirror on the wall opposite the pictures. She briefly admired her white and blue plaid dress, assuring herself that she was presentable. If she showed any sign of mourning in public, she’d likely be outcast or worse, tied and left to the shadows in the forest for putting others in danger. With a sigh, she grabbed her shopping basket and blue wool overdress for warmth, and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. She put on as convincing a smile as she could muster and proceeded off of her front porch, meandering towards the town market.
Along her way, Amity tried not to think of her father and the financial predicament she found herself in now that he was gone. It was hard for mares to come about jobs in a small town like Elmsgate. It was deemed ‘improper’ for a mare to own actually work outside of a home. The town was run by greedy bigots. Bigots who also happened to have the support of the local government, which was also run by bigger bigots as it were. She hated them.
She found herself hoping that her false demeanor was convincing as multiple groups of ponies cheerily passed by, a few waving as they went. As though they hadn’t a care in the world. Some of them probably didn’t. Speak none, hear none, see none. But despite a warm smile and a returned wave, her insides felt cold. Pretending to be friendly with all these happy strangers was making her feel sick. Picking up her pace, she opted instead to focus on the scenery rather than the ponies around her.
Bright, flowery buildings passed by looking like ancient ruins; ruins that were methodically turned into makeshift homes for the many families now living there. Amity scowled at them as she trotted on. Once, these homes had been a comforting sight to her. They’d always reminded her that she was close to home. But now, the only place she’d rather be less than outside was in her own home, if she could really even call it her home anymore. With no job and the last of her money going towards buying food, she’d likely be evicted by the next month. Elmsgate was devastatingly quick about that kind of thing. It was ‘good economic flow,’ supposedly. The kind of thing that meant they were waiting for the poor to die off so they could upgrade land into residencies for the upper crust.
In the center of town was the bustle of the market. Amity froze at the edge of it, afraid to step into the crowded street. Numerable ponies walked about the market, bartering for produce and laughing with friends and families. Amity sighed under her breath and wondered where her own friends must be. Even if they couldn’t say or show it anymore, they must have been worried by her absence. With the slightest hint of the first real smile she’d had in days, Amity stepped forward, hoping she’d perhaps come across a friendly face.
A little more cheerful than when she’d set out to the market, she began her shopping with relative ease. Business went quickly and with only a few pitying looks, just as she’d hoped. After having visited a number of stalls, Amity heard a familiar voice and turned excitedly toward it. Just a few stalls over was her friend Charlotte. Charlotte was talking with Candy Apple and Wheat Field, all friends that she’d grown up with. Trying to look as though she wasn’t rushing, Amity trotted coolly over to the group.
“Hello, everyone.” Amity smiled. The ponies fell silent and suddenly the small group looked very uncomfortable. Amity’s smile faded. She felt like she’d just stepped into a thorny bramble.
“Uh…hi, Amity…” Charlotte said as she looked down at her own hooves, a hint of shame and sadness was in her voice. An awkward silence buzzed heavily in the air around the group. It was the kind of silence where a pony knows that they were just the topic of the conversation, and it was not a good one.
“Is everything okay?” Amity asked, her hopes sinking fast. Charlotte finally looked her in the eyes before quietly asking the others to leave. “We need to talk.” Charlotte said grimly to Amity as the others each gave a brief hug and left. Once the others were out of sight, Charlotte spoke again, “We can’t hang out anymore.” The unicorn’s voice cracked, telling more about her state than she seemed happy with. “In fact, we can’t ever speak or be near each other anymore… It’s my parents. They think that you’re a danger to our family now…”
“Wha- Charlotte, are you serious?” Amity’s jaw dropped. Charlotte looked very upset as she pulled Amity aside from the stall, lest they be heard.
“It’s ridiculous, I know.” she said, “But I could be rejected from my own family if I’m seen even talking to you.” With wide, serious eyes, Charlotte was on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to leave you on your own, especially right now, but my family is going crazy about their social standing. They don’t want to even associate with someone who could be marked.” Charlotte said with no small amount of disdain. “But I can’t just abandon them either! They’re family, and they do try to keep us safe...You understand, don’t you?” Charlotte stared pleadingly at Amity.
“N-no?” Amity paused briefly, blinking back tears of her own. Then, she said with a heavy sigh, “Yes… yes, actually I do. I just didn’t think that things would change this drastically… at least, not between us.”
“You should know that everyone is in the same boat as well…” Charlotte subtly wiped a tear from her face, “It’s not right, but my family says you’d put us in danger of being marked. I’m so sorry, but after this conversation, you’ll be completely on your own.” Charlotte frowned despairingly. “You’re my best friend. I hate that this is happening, now of all times. This is truly never something I wanted…”
Amity quietly listened to what Charlotte was telling her, letting it sink in. She wasn’t just losing her closest friend, but all of her friends. She felt her heart sink into her hooves. Amity had known Charlotte since they’d started school. Charlotte’s parents and siblings had been like a second family for years now. She’d believed that Charlotte’s parents loved her like another child. Or that they had, until now.
Her temper flared at this, could all their years together simply have been a publicity stunt to make them look kind and charitable? Could they really have viewed being kind to her as being merely a way to raise their social standing? Amity gave Charlotte a stern, angry nod and said, “You guys were all I had left, you know… where can I go from here? Where do any of you expect me to go from here?”
Charlotte gave her a hurt look and said, “I… I don’t know. Please Amity, I didn’t choose this. But if I don’t side with my family, I’ll be disowned. Then what would I have left?”
Amity huffed, “I won’t keep you then…seeing as your mind has clearly been made up for you. What happened to the Charlotte I knew? In three days she’s become a lapdog to her parents. My friend would never walk out when I needed her most, even if her parents forbade it.” She knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at her. Families like Charlotte’s had a lot of sway over ponies, especially those in their own family. Being disowned would be an eternal shame, in the eyes of all the upper class. Staring angrily at the ground, she let out a soft sigh, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not really your fault… please, stay well and… and be safe, okay?”
“I will.” Charlotte sniffed, “And the same to you, Amity. I’m going to really miss you.” Charlotte smiled briefly. “Deep down, we’ll always still be friends. Please remember that.” She placed her hoof on Amity’s shoulder and let her smile fade. Charlotte suddenly became focused on the ponies in the street, “I-I have to go now…” Charlotte said almost urgently and turned to leave. “Goodbye.” She added sadly as she trotted away.
Amity watched as her friend left for the final time, wishing the goodbye hadn’t been so abrupt. But turning to face the crowd, she soon saw Charlotte’s older brother walking toward her, and he didn’t look friendly. Amity suddenly understood the predicament her friend must have been in. Her family was probably watching her. She shrunk back a bit as he came close; he shoved her firmly to the side, forcing her basket from her grip and glowered down at her.
“Stay away from where you’re not wanted, and away from those you’re not welcome around.” He said through gritted teeth before snorting in disgust and moving on. With her ears flat back against her head, Amity nodded sadly and picked her basket of goods back up before slipping back into the crowd. She tried frantically to look as though nothing had happened, but she was failing terribly, so as quickly as she could she slipped to the far side of the market where it was currently less crowded.
As the crowd dissipated she finally slowed her pace and took a few deep breaths. Trying to focus on anything else, she trudged to a nearby fruit stand. It had a healthy supply of pears and apples, which she poked and prodded at in search of the healthiest. She nodded with a false smile to the nearby stand owner. If only while in public, she had to look as though she still cared about being there. So she bottled up her emotions and decided right there that if she could hold it in for now, she could let it all out once she was home again. For the first time in days, she felt that home was a better place to be than anywhere else.
As Amity reached out to put a few pears into her basket, she heard a small voice nearby, clearing its throat as to get attention. Amity jumped slightly at the suddenness of the sound being directed at her. She looked up to see a mare in the alley next to the stall urgently motioning to her. “Come here.” The mare mouthed. Amity walked with trepidation over to the light green mare, who was quick to speak to her.
“You don’t know me, but you must believe that I am a friend to you. So please listen, because there is something important that I need to tell you.” The mare nervously looked around before continuing. “Your father isn’t dead, and he’s left me with a message for you: Tree… I know it may sound crazy, but he said it is very important and that you’d understand it.” The mare shifted her weight between her front hooves, obviously not comfortable with the situation. Amity’s confused look seemed to make it worse. “A-at least, that’s what he said…” she whispered. Amity’s mind raced with this news. She wondered how it could be possible, how this mare could know anything about her or her father and frankly, who this mare even was.
“A-alive? My father? Who are you?” Amity stammered. “How do you know us?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. We need to leave before we’re noticed. Please, just accept this as it is.” The green mare seemed genuinely sympathetic, but disappeared at a run down the alley before she could be questioned any further. Amity stood in shock for a moment, wondering if that had really happened. Could her father really be alive? After another moment of hesitation, Amity dropped her basket and took off running. She was going to the tree line at the northern edge of the town. She was going to a very specific tree…her mother’s tree.
Author's Note
This is part of Chapter 1 before it was edited, it needed to divided into smaller chapters, so this is now Chapter 2!
I may as well call this the surprise chapter! Somehow when I was editing and dividing Chapter 1 into a more reasonable size, this segment went completely forgotten about! So this was supposed to be chapter 2 all along! All the other works are still here, they just got scooted a chapter ahead!
The tree was beautiful. In the years since being planted, the Moon Pear tree that marked Moondrop’s grave had grown tall and strong. Every autumn it bore the most alluring fruit Amity had ever seen. This year’s harvest was much the same as any other year, though the fruit currently had yet to ripen into their trademark shade of luminescent lavender. The blue leaves rustled softly as Amity approached the tree. She would have arrived sooner if flying were allowed in city limits. But flying in such narrow streets caused too much havoc in years past.
The earthy scent of the forest lingered densely in the air and brought back memories of the many times she’d come to visit the tree with her father. The smooth, red-violet bark spread gracefully down to its base, upon which was carefully leaned a wrapped package. Amity wasted no time in reaching the package and tearing into it. Inside was a beautiful new set of saddlebags. Alongside the saddlebags was a note that appeared to be hastily scrawled, it read:
“Amity,
I wish so much that I could explain to you why I left. But there is just no time. Know that I had no other choice and please, don’t come looking for me. I left in order to keep you safe. So please, stay safe. I hope these saddle bags will make a nice early birthday gift for you. I’m so sorry I won’t be there to spend that day with you. I’m so sorry.
~Love, Dad”
She fought off the urge to cry again, though this time she could not tell if it was from sadness or from a joy of sorts. Her father was actually alive, or at least he was after he’d written the note. That much gave her hope, if only a little bit. But the world outside of towns was dangerous. A pony could not be guaranteed survival if they left, especially alone. Most ponies dared not even to venture from their homes during the earliest hours of the morning.
This is because almost every night, between the hours of 1:00 AM to 3:00 AM the most awful and unearthly noises could be heard from the forest around their town. The forest was definitely not a safe place. There was no getting used to it…it was believed to be the shrieks of the lost souls of the missing ponies of Elmsgate, crying out for a way back in. She imagined hearing her father’s voice added to their nightly screams.
Amity shuddered at the thought, and winced as the next thought pressed to the forefront of her mind: she had to find him. She simply could not believe that he was truly dead, not after seeing that note. He was the only family she had left that did not essentially shun her right after her birth, or turn on her now that she needed somepony. He did not abandon her to a cruel fate, and nor could she rightfully abandon him to his. She could not sit by if there was any way she could help. Yet the thought was crazy. It was far too dangerous. He’d even made the point to ask that she not come looking for him… but how could she not?
Amity read the note over a few times more, letting its meaning sink in. It really didn’t tell her all that much, but it still told just enough to give some meaning. He was sorry for leaving, that was clear, and he did it to keep her safe. However, his reasons for leaving, and how that kept her safe, were far less clear. The tone of the note told her something more though: that he would not, or didn’t expect to return. And the hasty handwriting stood out as a warning. Her Dad, being the perfectionist that he was, would not just scrawl out a note. Something had him in a hurry, as though he were afraid of something.
Amity dropped the note with a disheartened sigh. This new development did not improve her mood much at all. For a brief moment along the way there, she had let herself believe that her father would be waiting at the tree for her. When she did not see him there, her heart still desperately hoped for some good news. Floating the new bags up, Amity turned to leave.
She froze midstep, something having caught her attention from the corner of her eye. The note had landed face down. On the back of it was the emblem of the water purification plant where her father had worked since before she’d been born. It suddenly struck her that his office would be on quarantine for at least a month. People were afraid to approach things like that once a pony disappeared, lest they get themselves marked to be next. If there was any information there, it’d be untampered with.
Getting inside his office unnoticed would be relatively easy too, at least, once she was actually inside the building. But on the other hoof, getting into the building itself would prove to be a problem. Ponies that didn’t work there, or have a city-approved job application in hoof, wouldn’t be allowed in any entrance. And all entrances were watched over by guards, all armed with the best quality energy-based weapons the town could manage. Clean water, free from silt and contaminants, was a valuable thing. Everything needed it to survive. It’s not surprising that it’d be well protected.
Amity picked up the note and put it in her new saddle bag. She knew what she wanted to do, but she needed to think about how it could possibly be done without getting melted or burned into a pile of ash. Neither of which were a prospect she necessarily looked forward to. She decided for the moment that the best option would be to go back into town for food, the grumbling in her stomach had become distracting. From there, she could return home and contemplate her next move.
Luckily, upon her arrival back into the market, Amity’s basket and its contents were right where she’d dropped them. She made a quick effort to finish shopping and set out for home. Along the way, against her better judgment, Amity began to think about the rest of her family. Though they would never say so, least of all to her face, her family believed that her being born with both a horn and a set of wings was a dark omen and the cause of her mother’s death. It seemed they believed that evil magic from the forest had some sort of influence over her.
It was exacerbated years ago, when she’d gotten her cutie mark. It was unfortunate really, that her mark turned out to be as odd as the rest of her appearance. It was a large white swirl that stood out starkly against the black patch on her rump. It was less strange in appearance as it was in its arrival, though. It’d simply appeared one morning upon waking up. She’d had no idea what it’d meant, nopony did. All she could gather was that it did not appear the same way other ponies got theirs.
Her father, to spare her the gossip and rumors from her family, made up a bogus story of how it represented her ability to draw and make intricate patterns of many kinds. A talent that she had indeed, as she could build patterns of stars and intricate weavings that she began doodling and painting in her early teen years. But she felt in her heart, that though many were impressed by her artistic ability, it was not her special talent at all. However, in the end, she had to agree that it was better than nothing when ponies asked about it.
Amity continued to be lost in bitter thoughts of her family life until she stumbled foolishly over a rock in the path. Her face blushed hotly, making the awkwardness feel worse. She huffed in embarrassment as a few passersby snickered and trotted off. Rather than make the situation worse by getting indignant, she opted to pick up her pride and continue on her way, this time keeping a wary eye on her surroundings.
When she found herself home again, she set herself to work on dinner. She wanted to distract her thoughts with food for a while. While cooking went by quickly enough, and despite how hungry she was, she found it hard to eat much of anything. The very idea of what she was planning to do weighed heavily on her mind and made her stomach turn.
Ponies in Elmsgate just didn’t do things like this, it was too dangerous. But Amity knew if she didn’t take the chance to find out now, the window would close and she’d never get to. Nor would anypony else. With a sigh, she pushed her unfinished plate aside and turned her face to the window. She sat, pleading up to the stone far above her cavern home that the past few days had been just a long, bad dream…and that tomorrow she’d wake up.
Amity sat up in bed, staring groggily at her clock. 7:00 AM. It was fairly early, but possibly the best sleep she’d had in a few nights. She’d feared what dreams might come that night when she first laid down, but thankfully nothing had come to torment her. She climbed from bed and brushed her mane and tail, part of her old morning routine. She contemplated the previous day as she did so. Much of it had been spent at home, thinking and writing out plans. Failures and bad ideas, mostly. She was going to need some sort of help if she was to pull this off without dying in the process.
Once her mane was pleasant, she left her room for breakfast. But as she came upon her father’s bedroom door at the top of the stairs, she stopped. After a few moments of contemplation, she decided that it was time to actually take a look around. The door creaked loudly in the quiet house, revealing an impeccably kept bedroom. It was not at all like Amity’s room, the condition of which was something that she knew had bothered her father terribly.
As she entered his room, it came as no surprise to her that it looked the same as the last time she’d been there, the day he disappeared… when she had gone looking all through the house and through the town for him. When she had found he wasn’t there, she wasted no time in lingering or looking about the room. She’d become too afraid to in the days to follow. But that morning she had fresh eyes, and it did not take long for her to notice something off.
The throw rug at the foot of his bed had one corner flipped up. She was certain that she had not left it that way the last time she visited, and it wasn’t normal for her obsessive compulsive father to let that go ignored or unnoticed. She walked over to the small rug and went to flip the corner back into place when she noticed something more. A floor panel appeared out of place beneath it.
Amity immediately pulled the rug from its place and revealed a number of removable floor boards. One board had a strange emblem engraved into it. It was a symbol that she had never seen before. She carefully lifted the floorboards with her magic and set them upon the nearby bed. She set a low glow with her magic and peered inside the little space beneath the floor. It went deeper than she would have expected, she had to lean down into it to reach the bottom of it. It appeared to be some sort of crawlspace that if she crouched, she would be able to navigate.
She brightened the glow of her horn to and crawled in to explore the tiny space. It did not travel far, no more than to the corner of where her bedroom across the hall ended against the outer wall. There in the corner, she found a travel trunk. It couldn’t be easily opened in the small space, so she decided to try and drag the trunk back up to her father’s room to get a better look.
This hadn’t been the first time she’d multitasked with her magic, though when she’d done it previously, it was usually only with cooking or painting. But this time was different; the trunk was bigger, and heavier. The moment she enveloped the trunk with magic, her horn sputtered and went out. For a few brief seconds, Amity was left in complete darkness, her heart racing.
Very suddenly, her horn lit back up against her will, this time with more power and intensity than she’d ever felt in it before, her usual green magic crackling with little bits of red, flurries of blue and fluttering orange streaks. In a brief moment of panic she realized that she could not turn her magic off. In desperation, she flung the trunk over to the entrance in the floorboards. It exploded open and papers flew everywhere as her magic again flickered out.
Being too afraid to try and use magic to light her way, Amity instead carefully made her way to the entrance with only the dim light seeping from it to guide her. Rather than try to gather the papers with her magic either, she climbed out from the crawlspace to fetch her father’s bedside lantern. Once lit, it allowed enough light for her to collect many of the scattered papers. The poor trunk was beyond repair at that point, and some of the boards of the wall had cracked from the force.
After she’d collected all the papers she could find, she spread them out across the bed and began looking them over. Immersing herself in this new mystery was far easier than contemplating her magical outburst, so that’s what she did. Many of the sheets of paper were blueprints for magical machinery, similar to the machines her father had told her about in the water purification plant. But these were older models, according to the dates on the corners. These were at least 10 years old, and they updated at least every other year.
Among the blueprints were also many pages of notes, unfortunately all out of order now. But from what she could gather of them, most were notes on the machinery and the spells that ran them. She looked every paper over carefully, though she admittedly didn’t understand most of the intricate spellwork and technical babble. She’d never really had a mind for machinery like her father, but she knew enough to know what they were for. These machines were the heart of the purification plant. They’re what made the water safe.
She began to skim through the diagrams and notes, which all seemed to faze together. At the bottom of the stack of papers, she found another folded blueprint. She opened it rather unenthusiastically, expecting just another diagram of something she didn’t understand. But, upon opening, it brought a smile to her face. The blueprints depicted more than just machinery. They depicted a building. More specifically the building she needed to get into.
With further inspection, the blueprints revealed something she’d been hoping for. The purification plant had one extra entrance that she hadn’t thought of before: the drainpipe that allowed the stream water from the forest to flow into the purification department. It was just large enough for a pony to squeeze through; she assumed that for maintenance reasons. But as an added bonus, the purification department was located right beside the magical science offices, which would include her father’s office. After hours the water plant would be left running without heavy supervision. A few night guards would be no trouble if she was careful. The only catch to this plan was that even though the blueprints were up to date and showed the layout and size of the building, they did not depict any machinery or other obstacles that may be in the way.
“Well, even if I have to turn back, this is the best plan I have…” Amity said thoughtfully. “And I suppose it couldn’t hurt to scope out the area if nothing else; see what kind of security is about at night.” She rolled up the blueprints to use as a possible map and took it with her as she left the room.
As she reached the kitchen, there was a sudden knock upon the door. Amity froze and looked anxiously at the nearby entrance to her home. Who could possibly wish to visit her? The knocking came again and a familiar voice entreated entrance on the other side. Amity let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding and threw the map beside her bags.
“Charlotte?” she asked as she approached the door. She opened it with caution and gasped in horror. There was no danger waiting outside the door, just Charlotte. A rather shabby looking Charlotte. Her usually prim and neat hair was matted and mussed, and her clothes torn. But worse was her face. She’d been beaten, severely.
“Good Heavens! Charlotte! What happened to you?!” Amity ushered her friend inside and quickly shut the door. Charlotte was bawling almost hysterically, unable to speak through her sobs. All Amity could think to do was retrieve some medical supplies to treat her injuries. The bruises on her face were big and she was cut in multiple places, sticky blood staining her pale blue coat. After cleaning and applying bandages to Charlotte’s cuts, she placed cool, damp cloths upon her bruises. She helped her broken friend to the sitting room to rest on the couch. By then her crying had subsided well enough to speak. “Charlotte, what happened?” Amity asked.
“M-my family. My own family did this to me. My brother saw me talking to you in town… he found me and dragged me all the way home.” Charlotte sniffed and cringed at the pain in her face. “H-he threw me in front of our parents and accused me of trying to get them all killed. When he told them that we’d talked, it seemed that it was all they needed to hear…” Charlotte explained.
“So they beat you for it?” Amity was astounded. Her family had never been anything other than loving towards their daughter, and the image of them torturing Charlotte made Amity feel sick to her stomach.
“N-not immediately…they locked me in my room first. I heard them arguing downstairs; even my grandmother said I should be thrown out.” Charlotte moaned at the memory. “My own grandmother! Can you believe it?! When they brought me back downstairs, they said I was no longer a part of their family. That I was a disgrace to their name and that I wasn’t welcome there anymore… that’s when things got violent…” Charlotte had stopped crying at this point. She had clearly breached through sadness and into anger. In an attempt to calm her friend, Amity produced a hairbrush from a drawer in the kitchen. Sitting on the couch with her, Amity unpinned and began to brush Charlotte’s ruined mane.
“How did they get violent?” Amity questioned cautiously, not wanted to upset her friend any more than the whole day had already done.
“It was my mother, of all ponies, who started it.” Charlotte continued. “She began ripping my dress from me, saying I was below it. When I fought back, my father struck me… it continued from there until I couldn’t fight back. Then he had my brother drag me to the end of the road and dump me.” Charlotte glowered. “If only I were strong enough, I’d get them back for this. I’d get them all for this!” She shouted and kicked at the air. Amity had never seen her friend this angry.
“I’m so sorry, Charlotte. This is all my fault…” breathed Amity. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d have kept my distance.” she lowered her head and hid her face in her hooves.
“Don’t be a fool.” Charlotte said firmly. “This was my fault. It was my fault because I didn’t tell them to kiss my ass when they first told me to avoid you.” She smiled weakly. She obviously wasn’t going to let Amity feel bad about what happened to her.
“But Charlotte-“ Amity was a bit shocked to hear her friend swear, but was glad to see her come around. “We can’t just let this go. We have to call the guard, or somepony, they outright assaulted you.”
Charlotte snorted at the prospect of going to the guards. “And tell them what? That in this society it’s perfectly legal for them to have done what they did? That because I’m an outcast, I’m not considered a pony anymore?” Charlotte said with certainty. “You and I both know that the only thing worse than the upper class in this town are the ponies running it.” She continued.
“Good point.” Amity huffed, resigned. “But you are always welcome here.” She said as reassuringly as she possibly could.
“You don’t sound necessarily confident in that…” Noted Charlotte.
“Well, I’m not sure for how much longer I’ll even be welcome here. It’s impossible for mares to find decent work that doesn’t involve debasing oneself…” Amity explained. “Without my father here, I don’t think I can pay the bills. It won’t be long before they evict me.” There was an understanding silence in the room as they both mulled over their options. Suddenly, Charlotte perked her ears up excitedly.
“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “Amity, we’ll leave town! We’ll quote unquote disappear, and nopony will really question it at all.”
Amity dropped the brush in astonishment. “Leave town? Are you crazy?! We can’t just wander out into the woods on our own, nopony knows what all is out there. Not even traders are safe, and they don’t talk much about places outside of town.” The very idea of it made her face go pale.
“Oh come on, Amity. How do you know that it’s not just a bunch of bullshit fed to us in order to keep us stuck in this shit-kicking town? The government doesn’t want the people to think it’s safe out there, just to make sure none of us leave.” Charlotte pushed the idea further, “I can’t imagine anything worse than staying here…”
“I… I don’t know about this… My father always told me that there had to be something out there in those woods, it’s not even safe on the trading paths they say. Besides, there’s got to be something out there, you hear the screams at night as much as I do.” Amity was hesitant to admit that leaving town almost sounded like a better idea than staying. But the very prospect of the forest beyond the gravestone trees made her shudder.
“Look,” Charlotte leaned in closer, as though someone might hear them. “My father once told me something the local traders told him. Somewhere along the path far beyond town is something called a ‘train.’” Her eyes sparkled excitedly. “And the train takes ponies to wherever they want to go, so long as they can make it in time. And I know exactly where we’d go.” Charlotte was practically dancing in her voice.
“Where would we go?” Curiosity had gotten the better of her, and Amity couldn’t hide the fact that the idea of this train had her excited.
“The traders spoke of a city known as the Everglade. It’s a Changeling city that was built atop an old swamp. But apparently they have the highest fashions there and some of the leading technology in household robotics!” Were it not for the soreness of her injuries, Charlotte may just have gotten up and danced around. “They say it’s a cultural haven and a safe place from the magics of the forest… we could build new lives there.”
Amity couldn’t help but smile at the prospect, although it wasn’t necessarily the city itself that had made her happy. Perhaps the train had seen her father, and could take her to where he’d gone to. Maybe he was already there, waiting with the train for her to show up. Maybe they could all go to the Everglade together. She finally nodded and agreed that perhaps it’d be a good idea to seek out this train and see if it would take them to the Everglade.
“But… there’s something important I have to do first…” Amity explained. “I need to get into the purification plant, to my Dad’s office.” Charlotte’s obvious confusion led her to explain further. “My Dad sent a message to me through a courier. He wasn’t taken… He left. I don’t think he’s dead, but he could be in trouble.” Amity trailed off thoughtfully
“Something had him afraid, and I need to know what and why… I know it sounds a bit like a desperate plan to go, but there may be clues in his office that could tell us why or even where he left to.” Amity stood up from the sofa, and paced. “And…and if we can find that out, maybe the train could take us to him. Maybe we could all start over together in Everglade.”
“But how do we get in to begin with? Everypony knows how heavily guarded the gates of the Water Plant are.” Asked Charlotte. Amity smiled, and levitated the map in from the kitchen.
“Using this.” She said with a smile.
Author's Note
This is part of Chapter 1 before it was edited, it needed to divided into smaller chapters, so this is now Chapter 3!
Chapter Five: Making a Plan
Amity squirmed in her seat, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt inside. Upon arriving so late the night before, the Brotherhood had kindly offered them some food and rest in a spare bunkroom. When they’d awoken that following afternoon, Amity and Charlotte were invited to dine at the head table with the Commander of the Brotherhood’s Elmsgate Unit.
This turned out to be their leading cause of discomfort. At the table they were met with the skeptical gaze of the Commander, who gruffly introduced herself as Thistle. Throughout the meal, not much was said amongst those sitting at the cramped metal table. But Thistle regularly made suspicious glances over at the two mares across from her. It became increasingly hard for Amity to keep her composure as they awkwardly ate.
Even Charlotte, who had wasted no time in diving into her food, was having a hard time ignoring the awkwardness of the situation. She began to fidget in her seat as she ate, and it became worse with every look of disapproval that the Commander shot in her direction.
Commander Thistle’s appearance was no help in the matter either. With her frosty gaze and the numerous scars marring her untrimmed blue coat, her very presence felt hostile. And unlike most of the mares in Elmsgate, Commander Thistle’s blue-grey mane was cut short and left un-brushed. It was far from common to see a mare with short hair in Elmsgate, it was primarily a mark of shame to punish a mare in a rich family for adultery or disloyalty.
“So the old stallion sent you.” Thistle stated suddenly, herself apparently having grown tired of the silence.
“Um, yes. If by that you mean Waterspout.” Amity ventured. Commander Thistle winced at the mention of his name. “I’m assuming you must be the daughter he sent us to find?” she asked. Charlotte ceased picking at her food to listen.
Commander Thistle huffed. “Unfortunately, yes.” The pegasus’ wings ruffled in obvious annoyance. “But we have hardly spoken outside of work since he picked up his little habit…” She explained with subtle tones of bitterness.
“You mean the drugs.” Charlotte blurted out, to the shock of everyone at the table.
“Yes…That. Among other things…” Commander Thistle grimaced and averted her eyes.
Pupils narrowed to anxious pinpoints, Amity kicked Charlotte firmly on the shin. Charlotte jumped and glared over as she rubbed at the sore spot on her leg. But Amity scowled sternly back at her, hoping that her friend could see she wasn’t fooling around.
“Don’t screw this up!” Amity mouthed to Charlotte, who sighed irritably.
“What did I do?” Charlotte whispered back to Amity.
“What? You’re serious?” Amity gaped. “She made a point to not actually say it; clearly she didn’t want to talk about it. Least of all with us.” She whispered furiously.
“About the drugs thing?” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “She needs to know that we know. No secrets here. We’re not below her, even with her fancy title. There’s clearly already too much of that kind of shit around here anyway.” She continued. Eyes wide, it became apparent to them suddenly that Charlotte was no longer whispering, and the Commander’s eyes were fixated fiercely upon them.
With a scowl, Thistle said through gritted teeth: “Why. Are. You. Here?” The entire lunch hall had fallen dead silent, allowing her words to echo ominously.
“My father… Jack.” Amity said bluntly. This clearly grabbed Commander Thistle’s attention, as she folded her hooves up and rested her chin atop them. Her face had grown grim, but clearly intent on listening. “Y-your father was one of the last ponies he had been in contact with before he left. As far as we know, anyway… So we went to see Waterspout at his cell, but he sent us to you.”
After a moment of thought, Commander Thistle replied, “Okay… That at least explains your knowing the password… But I’m still not exactly certain as to why you’re here.” She said evenly. “Jack told us specifically to keep you out of all this. He also said that he’d left you a message telling you to do the same. He said you’d listen.”
“Well… Well apparently he was wrong.” Amity choked, but was trying hard not to show any hurt in her voice. “I’ve come looking for him, and the trail has led me here. Here, where you clearly know what’s going on better than we do.” Charlotte rested a sympathetic hoof on Amity’s shoulder and glowered at Thistle.
“I know you’re trying to be all grown up and official here, but we’ve kind of been through a lot.” Charlotte scowled fiercely, the bruised muscles in her face stinging. “And the last thing she needs from you right now is to be reprimanded for doing what any pony with a heart, broken or no, would do!” Amity was shocked. She stared, unable to find words to stop the argument from progressing.
“Look,” Thistle glared. “I’m not running a charity house here. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a facility dedicated to a special team of ponies with an important mission. We don’t have the time or resources to be helping anypony who just walks through the door!” she slammed her hooves down on the table. The lunch hall remained quiet.
“There aren’t any charity houses in this hellhole to begin with!! Besides, we’re not just anypony!” Charlotte shouted. “We’re the friends and family of Jack O’Lantern! Somepony, who seems to clearly be very important to your stupid little club here.” She continued. “We’re not asking for much, we just wanna know where he went to and why!” Thistle’s eyes flashed dangerously at Charlotte’s belligerence.
“That is classified information. And it will not be given out to ponies we don’t know we can trust.” Thistle hissed as she rose menacingly to her feet.
“Then unclassify it!” Charlotte growled back, rising to look the Commander in the eye.
“Charlotte, please! That’s enough.” Amity said shakily, having finally come to her senses. She put her hooves between the two mares lest it come to blows. With a hardened glint in her eye, Amity continued. “If they won’t share what we need with us, then that’s that. It simply means we don’t give them what they’re looking for.” Standing, Amity calmly righted herself and began to walk away from the table.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Thistle spat. Amity froze.
“Your father was caught attempting to break into my father’s office, was he not?” Amity smiled coyly. “He must have had a reason, otherwise why bother? Paperwork, pictures, knickknacks… Hardly things someone from an ambitious group such as this would be after.” She continued, puffing her feathers confidently.
“I’d get to the point, if I were you.” Thistle glared, taking the bait.
“I think he was after something specific. Something not placed in plain sight? Something taboo… Like, notes on a particularly sensitive subject perhaps?” Amity turned a stern glare back towards the Commander, then began to walk on. “Come along, Charlotte. We’ll be leaving then. There’s clearly nothing for us here.”
“Wait! Notes?” Thistle snapped to attention. Running ahead, she blocked Amity’s path. “What notes?” Her cold eyes showed a brief moment of hope before hiding again behind anger.
“Oh, I think you know the ones.” Amity hissed lowly. Maybe Charlotte had been right. “The ones my father wrote. The ones your father failed to obtain. The ones you have been waiting for.” Commander Thistle’s eyes widened, but she remained cold in her expression.
“Let’s go to my office…”
They left the silent, staring crowds in the lunch hall and proceeded to Thistle’s office. It was a modest space that bore about as much soul as its owner did. It was cold, kind of musty, and poorly lit. The flowers in the room had not been tended well and were wilting sadly all along the ceiling. Once the three of them were seated, Thistle spoke into a small intercom on her desk.
“Bring in some hot tea for my guests, would you Peridot?” she asked.
“Right away, sister.” The tinny voice of a mare replied. This seemed to rejuvenate the Commander with another burst of anger.
“For the thousandth time, I said to call me Commander Thistle!” She spat at the meek voice from the speaker.
“… Yes Commander… Sorry Commander.” The young voice spoke. With a gravelly sigh, Thistle shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose between her hooves. She suddenly turned away and began digging through the cabinet behind her.
“Poor mare.” Charlotte whispered to Amity. “If she has to deal with this high-trotting jackass every day.”
“Alright then… To business.” Thistle said as she pulled out a glass and a half empty bottle of liquor. After a moment of thought, she shoved the glass to the floor and took a heavy swing from the bottle. She shuddered a moment and hit the intercom again. “And bring me another glass!” she shouted.
“Okay. You’ve put me in a bind.” Thistle sighed. “We need those notes. It’s vital if we ever want to take out the bastards running this shitty town’s government.” The concerned stares she received from Amity and Charlotte pushed her to elaborate further. With a sigh, she took another swing from her bottle and shook it off.
“So get this,” Thistle explained. “I doubt it would take much convincing for you to believe me, but what if I were to tell you that the ponies governing Elmsgate were the leading cause for most of the disappearances? That this town’s government intends to use water purification against its own population?” She fumed.
“Wait, so you’re saying that the monsters who have been making our lives general hell for generations, are the same assholes kidnapping innocent ponies?” Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “I, but…how?”
“Money. It’s all about cash.” Thistle whispered and leaned over the desk. “They play on the disappearances brought on by our ‘mighty King’. But most of the stallions are sold into slavery at the trade in Brass Town.” She frowned.
“But what about the mares?” Amity asked, fearful of the answer.
“The mares? Well…That’s just it. They just disappear. No traces. They’re simply sent somewhere, never to be seen again. We’ve been trying for years to find out where they take them, to no avail.” Thistle frowned.
“But those notes, the data your father collected, may finally lead us to what we’re looking for.” Thistle had set down her bottle and looked genuinely worried. “The system running this stupid ring originated here of all places, a place where sexism and class tension is already prime… Here, where nopony knows or cares if some lower class ponies go missing.” Thistle’s eyes darkened. “If the Brotherhood is going to stop it, we’ll need all the information, supplies, and technology we can get… So… Is it a trade then?”
“A trade-“ Amity was interrupted by the office door suddenly opening. A light green earth pony mare entered the room with a small tea cart in tow. Amity, shocked, recognized the young mare immediately.
“Ah, Peridot. There you are.” Thistle said, the slightest of smiles actually upon her face.
“Sorry, I’m late sis- I mean Commander Thistle…” the earth pony was fidgety, clearly not wanting to be there. Amity knew her immediately to be the mare from the market who had previously delivered her father’s message to her a few days before. The mare was quick to begin handing out cups and pouring tea.
“Not to pry, but I take it that you two are related?” Amity asked, making Peridot nearly drop the tea kettle mid pour.
“Oh! Um, I-“ Peridot stammered.
“Yes. As it were, we are.” Thistle hissed.. “This is my father’s other daughter, Peridot… She stays here with me as my assistant.” The Commander explained. Peridot shrank back, hiding the subtle hint of tears almost expertly behind a face as hardened as stone.
“Other daughter?” Charlotte was clearly boiling beneath the surface. With a pointed glare, Thistle retorted.
“Yes. His other daughter.” Commander Thistle growled. “And our family business is none of yours. That’s not why we’re here, and it’s not what we’re going to be talking about.” Thistle growled. She intensified her glare enough that even Charlotte seemed content enough to let the subject go.
“Peridot!” Thistle spat. “My guests have been served, you are excused. You will clean this up after we’ve gone.” She pointed to the door, and her sister quickly ushered herself out. For a brief moment, Amity almost wished she could join her in fleeing from Thistle. Kindness and hospitality, it seemed, were words not familiar to the Commander’s vocabulary.
After a tense pause, and another couple of long swigs from the bottle, Commander Thistle spoke again, “So. About the business earlier… do we have a trade? The Brotherhood will give you the information you seek on your father, as well as safe passage in or out of town, in exchange for his notes.”
Amity mentally debated the trade under the scrutinizing gaze of Thistle, and nodded her agreement. “Agreed… On the condition that we receive the info we need on my father first.” Thistle huffed in her disapproval, but nodded.
“Fair enough.” Thistle sighed, “I’m sure by this point, you’re well aware that he’s alive. He never had the intention of leaving without you, but circumstances soon proved… dangerous. He prematurely had to take his leave due to the government’s discovery of a hacked terminal. It, unfortunately, had a safety protocol unbeknownst to your father as he worked. It put the government on his trail, and he was forced to flee before he was finished with his work.”
“What work was he doing for you, exactly?” Amity asked.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself here, kid.” Thistle smirked. “You clearly have no idea who your father really is here, do you?” She was met with an insulted look, and explained. “Your father wasn’t just a scientist at the Water Plant. He was an undercover agent, as well as our Co-Founder. He’s a head of the Brotherhood itself.” Amity and Charlotte sat dumbfounded. Thistle, smiling devilishly, relished their moment of shock.
“Everything I told you about before was his work. He sought the information on ponies who disappeared and anything else we could use to bring the Government down… Apparently he really found something, judging by the frenzy the local Government has been in since then. They’re doing well enough to hide it from the public, but our inside sources say that they’ve been in a tizzy ever since the hack was discovered.” She said with no small amount of pride.
“When he was discovered though, things happened very quickly, we helped him flee town, and he mentioned heading to the city of Everglade, but whether or not he intended to stay there is unknown to us.” Thistle’s face darkened. “The forest is unforgiving, and he refused our accompaniment once we’d reached the forest edge… But assuming he made it, there would be a place to start though. We have a rather small outpost there, and it’s likely he stopped there, at least.”
Still in awe of what she’d just been told, Amity stammered a little, before managing a thank you. She was glad to at least know where he was headed, and they gave them a good lead, but unfortunately she felt little to no confidence in leaving town as she once had. As it approached, the thought of entering the woods loomed more ominously.
Charlotte broke the silence and asked, “So we know where he went at least, what exactly do we do from here?” Amity laid her ears back and shrugged, unsure of the best course of action.
“Well to start, I do believe that you owe me some notes.” Thistle jabbed. With a nod, Amity pulled the notes from her saddlebag, and floated them over to the Commander. Thistle was quick to begin skimming the pages, and the more she read, the more concerned her face grew.
“Oh Gods, oh Gods… that can’t be right…” Thistle mumbled. “Have you read these?” she asked the pair.
“We skimmed the first few pages, but no, we didn’t really have the time.” Charlotte answered.
“He found a lead on the disappearances of mares, as well as a long list of ponies who were sold over the last couple of centuries… there’s a mark here that I haven’t seen since I was very small. But it’s undeniable where it’s from… I just can’t believe that they would have any interest in mares… unless they’ve stopped breeding their slaves.” Thistle shook her head sadly.
“Who are they?” Amity asked.
“They go by the ‘Gilded Council,’ they live in a large city somewhere out in the desert above. They rarely ever reach out to the world outside of their city. They say it’s called the City of Gold for a reason. They’re so wealthy they could afford to cut themselves away from ‘unsavory ponies’, or in other words the poor, and isolated themselves from anypony... Well, Other than those they’d captured or bought as slaves.” Thistle scowled down at the paper. “But as far as we’d known, they’d been inactive in any trade for 20-some odd years now.”
“So why would they be suddenly active again now?” questioned Amity, “It’s not like they wouldn’t already have all that they needed, wouldn’t they?”
“I… I’m not sure.” Replied Thistle. “For all we know, they could have been active in this all along, but there’s no indication as to when their transactions here began.”
“Perhaps even more alarming of a question to me is why exactly are they actively seeking mares only?” Charlotte rang in. “If they were in need of slaves, would they really be so discriminatory as to which kind they got? Wouldn’t stallions be considered stronger workers?”
“That’s also uncertain. They may only need females for breeding purposes amongst their existing slaves.” Thistle nearly gagged at the thought. “We will certainly be looking into why, but the current issue still stands that ponies are being taken to begin with. This is definitely something we’ll need to start taking action on, soon. Then we can seek out the city and hopefully rescue the stolen… Problem is, we have no idea where this city is. Rumor has it that to find the city, you had to have been there before.”
“Well what about the town government?” Amity ventured. “I mean, if all this information was on one terminal there, maybe their location and motives are locked away on another.”
“That’s an idea, but we’re not sure how he got into the first one to begin with. But, say if we can get into the City Hall, it’s likely that the computers of the higher up members may have information like this.” Sighed Thistle. “But getting in is a problem. None of us in the Brotherhood are registered members of town, aside from your father and mine. But they aren’t really an option.”
“Well what about us?” Charlotte glanced wide, eyed between the two. “Amity and I have lived here our whole lives. And while we aren’t in the highest standing, it wouldn’t be weird for either of us to visit town hall. I mean, chances are we were bound to be called in there eventually, right?”
“Well, maybe you anyway.” Amity sneered. “If they’re looking for my father, chances are they’ll be looking for me soon, if they aren’t already.”
“Highly likely.” Thistle added. “If word got out that most of the disappearances here were caused by the government, the town would be in a riot in no time. If they have any reason to believe you know anything, and they will, you’re likely on their most wanted list already.”
“Hmm, what if we dressed up?” Charlotte began fixing up her own disheveled hair.
“Dress up?” Thistle gawked.
“Actually, that might work.” Amity blinked. “I mean think about it, this whole stupid town judges mares upon whether or not they look like they’re upper class. Faces don’t really matter. If we sneak in looking like we have money, only the elite would question it.”
“I don’t know if you need your eyes adjusted, but I don’t exactly look like an upper class mare. I think they might notice the fact that I look like I’ve been run through a shredder.” Thistle scowled, even blushing slightly.
“Well Amity and I could go in alone. Though backup would be much appreciated… is there anypony you would trust to take your place? Someone who can shoot a gun… or hack a terminal? There’s got to be another mare in the Brotherhood who isn’t so messed up… No offense.” Charlotte suggested.
Thistle glared, but scratched at her chin thoughtfully for a moment before a wry smile crept across her face. “As a matter of fact, I think I just might.”
Author's Note
Okay, so it took FOREVER to get this done, but here it is, Chapter 4, with work on Chapter 5 already started. If you liked or disliked this, leave a comment below, I'm always looking for feedback on what could be better, or what people liked. Anyway, have a great day!
Peering through the trees, Charlotte and Amity eyed the entrance to the drain pipe. There was only one guard patrolling the path along that wall. He was vigilant, but he couldn’t watch the whole area at once. The one problem they were faced with was timing it right as to not be heard. Amity noted that the river flowing into the Water Plant grew fairly deep on its way to the pipe’s entrance.
“I can’t believe they don’t have this area guarded more.” Charlotte whispered and flipped her tail excitedly. “It almost seems too easy.”
“Most ponies don’t bother coming out this way at all, let alone at night. I don’t think they believe anypony even knows about it.” Amity chuckled softly. “How well do you swim, by the way?” she asked.
“Swim?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know how?” She asked sarcastically. Amity shot Charlotte an irritated look and explained.
“I think it’s the only way we’ll be able to get in there without being noticed. Every other way is either too loud or involves going out into the open. So seriously, can you swim or can’t you?” Amity asked again. Charlotte told her that she could, but not very well. “Shit…I mean shoot…now you’ve got me doing it... Well, I guess you’ll have to hang onto my tail and we’ll take it as slowly as we can.” Amity shook her head in frustration. “Come on, it’s now or never.” Amity gulped nervously as she stepped into the cool stream water as quietly as she could. She turned back to Charlotte and added, “Oh, and whatever you do, don’t make a sound. We can’t risk being caught.”
“No shit.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, or at least the one that wasn’t still swollen shut, and joined her friend in wading into the running water. It wasn’t long before they were swimming chin deep in water, slowly progressing to the drain. Amity was grateful that the water was flowing in the direction they needed to go in, it was hard enough holding up poor Charlotte with the help of the current. They’d be doing a lot worse otherwise.
The constant fear of the guard rounding his way back around the corner pushed them to speed up, and not a moment too soon. They managed to slip beneath a small bridge as the guard rounded the corner. With their breaths held and clinging to the dirt and rock along the bank, they tensely watched as the guard crossed the bridge a few feet above them. His hooves clopped loudly on the wooden planks overhead and they could hear him mumbling complaints about the hours and his wage.
When he could no longer be heard, they let out a small sigh of relief and continued swimming. The stream carried them quietly into the pipe entrance, which thankfully had a floor beneath the water that allowed them to walk rather than swim. Alternately, to their misfortune, the pipe was a lot narrower than they had anticipated. Moving in single file they had no problem going through it, but it became hard to not feel claustrophobic with only a few inches of room on any side of them but forward and backward. In spite of their discomfort, it’d be almost impossible to turn back then, so they quietly pressed on through the neck deep water.
Eventually, they relied upon the light of their horns to see. Amity’s magic still was sputtering strangely, but at least she was able to keep control of it. She noticed that on occasion little streaks of color still popped and flowed in her magic. She hoped desperately that her friend couldn’t see the display. The last thing she needed was another thing to worry about. As they walked on, the tunnel began to feel narrower and narrower. What was worse, there seemed to be no end to the tunnel. Charlotte began muttering nervously that it seemed unnatural that the tunnel went that deeply into a building.
“We should have reached the end by now, shouldn’t we? W-we have to have!” Charlotte began to panic and started shouting fearful fantasies of death in a tunnel. Before Amity could speak, her hoof slipped on the floor beneath her, tripping them both up and pulling her head beneath the water. Both magics lighting their way had flicked out and Charlotte shrieked in the sudden darkness as Amity pulled herself back to her feet.
“Stop! Stop it, Charlotte!” Amity said firmly to calm her friend as she relit the magic of her horn. “We’re going to be fine, the tunnel is just deeper than we anticipated.” She assured. “Now come on, we need to keep moving. Be careful too, the floor is kinda slick.” Amity began walking on, Charlotte reluctantly following close behind. As they progressed further into the tunnel, they began slipping more often and found that the sound of moving water was becoming louder and louder. Before much longer, they were struggling to keep their footing as the tunnel began to slope downward, making the water move faster.
The sound of falling water came closer and louder until Amity could swear they were standing in the center of a waterfall, especially with how much water was rushing past her. She was certain that Charlotte was saying something to her, but above the rush of water, she could barely hear herself think. Suddenly, Amity let out a yelp as Charlotte slid into the back of her. With the force of the accidental push, they both lost their footing and were swept away down the tunnel with increasing speed.
The tunnel deepened and its incline became much steeper as the water pulled them along. Thankfully the tunnel also became wider again as they were battered against its walls. Before they could process much more than attempting to keep their heads above water, the end of the tunnel came into view, bringing with it a blinding light. With a failed attempt at screaming amidst the water around them, they were soon plunged from the end of the pipe and down into the processing pool waiting far below.
Seconds felt like minutes as Amity endeavored to reach the surface of the pool. The weight of Charlotte once again clinging to her tail and legs felt terribly heavy and slowing. As her head broke the surface of the water, time sped back up with the impact of a wrecking ball. The hum of machinery could be felt in the very water, and became louder at the surface. It was disorienting as they struggled their way to the edge of the pool where they were able to heave enough of themselves out of the water to relax. Gasping for air, they lay, simply breathing for some time.
“Remind me…to never go into a tunnel with you ever again.” Charlotte croaked in a waterlogged voice. She coughed up little bits of water before resting her head again. They were both fairly scraped up and bleeding a bit, but were overall in surprisingly good shape.
“Remind me next time too.” Amity chuckled weakly. Once their breaths had been caught and they had wrung some of the water from their manes and tails, Amity and Charlotte dared to peer over the upper ring of the pool. “Strange…” Amity whispered. “This pool isn’t even full. Is it even possible for them to process magic and silt from water this quickly?”
“I don’t know, but your Dad was a great scientist, didn’t he get some sort of efficiency award some time back?” Charlotte replied. Amity nodded only slightly, clearly disinterested in talking about it. “Well… there appear to be no guards around either, shall we make a dash for the stairs then?” Charlotte changed the subject.
“Yes…but keep close and walk quietly, there could be guards around any corner. The last thing we want to do is to get caught now.” Amity motioned for Charlotte to follow as she hoisted herself up over the edge of the processing pool. Once they were out, the mares made their way to the metal staircase lining the wall west of them. They only stopped once at the sound of a shutting door in the distance, but opted to not waste time.
Continuing to lay low, they made their way up the staircase as quietly as possible. The platform at the top led to two different hallways to the right. There was a row of complex and strange looking machines lining the left side of the platform, overlooking the processing pools. It seemed that this heightened position allowed for scientists to regularly control and check the progress of the machinery below while being ever-close to the paperwork of their offices.
Amity and Charlotte peered cautiously around the corner of the first hallway. The sound of voices could be heard, but they were distant and indiscernible. Nopony was in sight, so they ventured slowly into the hallway. Amity was sure to check the doors for their nametags as they passed. She may have had the floor plan of the building, but she had no clue as to which office belonged to her father. At the end of the first hall, they found it looped around to the other hallway. But a door stood well lit along that wall, and this is where the previously muffled voices were originating from. Pulling Charlotte back a bit, Amity whispered as softly as she could that they would sneak past the door and to therefore be more cautious than ever. Charlotte nodded nervously and followed as inaudibly as was possible.
The mares approached the door quickly enough and could read the word ‘security’ written in bold black letters upon the door. This sent a chill of worry down Amity’s spine, but they needed to press on. Inside the room there appeared to be off-duty guards taking a break. They were in a heated debate about the virginity of a mare one of the guards had been with recently. Amity flinched as they continually berated the absent mare, clearly emboldened by the fact that nopony but the one stallion that cared was within earshot.
“Aw, she ain’t nothin’ but a floosy!” A stallion exclaimed in laughter.
“Oh come now, Buck Shot, she isn’t that bad. She’s a nice mare, and her cooking is like eating a slice of heaven.” The defending stallion said.
“Aye, Grit, she’s surely experienced. About as experienced as a fish is to water. She’s seen ‘em all up close by now I reckon.” A third voice chimed in. Laughter ensued again. As they passed by the door, Amity caught a glance inside at the stallions in the conversation. They sat around a table playing cards and smoking. If only from disgust at the conversation, she and Charlotte exchanged looks and stopped briefly near the door to listen.
“THAT'S ENOUGH, BUCK SHOT!” the one named Grit shouted, slamming his hand of cards down. “I can't stand to listen to you nimrods anymore! I’ve not fallen in love with a strumpet." he growled. "I’ve fallen in love with an amazing, strong mare that was willing to do whatever it took to care for her children. And I have no intention of leaving her to the fate this Godsforsaken town has forced her to! I'll do whatever it takes to help her, even if she doesn’t feel the same about me.” Grit threw his chair back and he stomped towards the door, clearly done with the other stallions in the room. All of whom sat in stunned silence.
Charlotte shoved Amity to move as the sudden realization came that he was going to leave the room with them still standing just outside the door. They shuffled silently around the corner just as the door swung forcefully open. With one last snort of disgust, the stallion slammed the door shut. He then stood silent, thinking for a while before thankfully stamping off in the other direction.
They watched, pitying the poor stallion when, with a nudge, Amity motioned for a tearful Charlotte to follow her into the hallway. Subdued, they found her father’s office, which to Amity’s relief was unlocked, and shut the door behind them. The room was lit up just a bit by the computer monitor upon his desk. Letting out a sigh of relief, Amity turned to Charlotte, who was sobbing silently.
“Are you alright, Charlotte?” Amity whispered. Charlotte nodded and wiped tears from her snout and unswollen eye.
“I think I know the poor mare they were talking about.” She confided. “It must be Ms. Janet Hearthswell. You remember, the widow of poor Mr. David Hearthswell? Their bakery was on Main Street, just near the market.” Charlotte whispered solemnly. “Before he…disappeared.”
“And before he returned…” Amity winced. She remembered them quite well, she assumed everpony did though. The memory of his burning corpse upon the post lingered in the minds of everypony who dared pass Main Street. He was one of the unfortunate souls who had been disappeared and then returned as one of the King's 'sacrifices.’ He was found early one morning in the town square, a week after his disappearance.
It had been his dying screams that alerted the townsfolk of his return. And the town, being as it was, left the ruined body untouched for months, decaying and all while evicting his wife and children from their home in the meantime. Mrs., now Ms., Hearthswell seemed to fade into the poorer side of town, as was usually the case with the families of the sacrifices. They were rarely heard from or about anymore at all. An overwhelming sadness filled the room, and it made them increasingly aware of the fact that there was something horribly wrong with the town they lived in. Nopony was safe there, not from the King, not from the forest, and most certainly not from their own leadership.
In an attempt to brush off the lingering gloominess, Amity busied herself with rummaging through her father’s desk, revealing nothing but daily reports and graphs. Charlotte began to help as she turned to rummaging through the filing cabinets. It was mostly all more reports from years past, until Charlotte called her attention to a small symbol on the corner of one of the cabinets on the far side of the room. Recognizing it to be the same symbol as was on her father's floorboard, Amity grinned with reinvigorated hope and proceeded to the cabinet, searching for anything of interest.
They were all just more files until she reached the bottom drawer. This drawer was heavy and contained a metal safe on the back. She was sure that most offices had one in this plant, but there was no telling what secrets lay inside that of her father’s.
“How do we open this stupid thing though?” Amity mused. “As far as I know, my Dad was the only one who had the key to anything in his office. And it’s not like we can just go and ask administration for a spare.”
“Well…we could use this.” Charlotte offered, and pulled a bobby pin from usually well-kept mane, letting it fall back down to her shoulders. “I used to pick into my mother’s jewelry box and play dress up when I was a kid. She never knew that of course.” Charlotte stated with a wry smile. She set to work immediately on picking the lock as Amity waited. Impatience getting the best of her, she couldn’t help looming over Charlotte’s shoulder, anxious to see the contents of the box.
Just as she thought she couldn’t wait any longer, the lock clicked open and the lid lifted easily up with Charlotte’s magic. Inside the safe was disappointingly little. There was nothing more than a scroll and a picture of Amity and himself on her third birthday. With a huff, Amity sank to her haunches, and stared down at the items. She slipped the picture into her saddlebags to keep and decided to open up the scroll. It was another set of blueprints, this time specific to the science offices of the building. Charlotte and Amity looked over the map and quickly found the office they were sitting in.
“What is that little red dot on the paper?” Charlotte squinted and pointed out a little mark on the floorplan of the office they were sitting in. Amity looked it over carefully before speaking.
“It’s almost too intentional to have been some extra drop of ink or something. Where in this room does the dot line up with?” Amity asked as they looked around.
“There, under the desk.” Charlotte pointed out. Lighting a faint glow with their horns they peered into the darkness beneath the desk. In the far back, there was a floor stone with another mark just like the one Amity had found in her home earlier. With her magic, she carefully lifted the stone up out of the floor, revealing as she had expected: a crawlspace beneath them. They pulled up the stones and placed them as quietly as they could into the corner of the room.
When they had removed the last of the loose stones, they’d found a grate covering the opening that was wide enough for a pony to slip into. Amity gave Charlotte a confident nod before carefully lifting open the grate and proceeding into the crawlspace. She brightened her magic and looked around as her friend climbed down after her. This crawl space was much deeper than the one in her house, she could stand up fairly straight in this one.
“It would seem my father has a thing for these kind of hidden spaces.” Amity whispered to Charlotte as she joined her in lighting up the room. Ignoring a raised eyebrow from her friend, Amity began to search around for anything of interest. To her delight, right nearby there was a small lamp and a desk that was rather disheveled and covered in an assortment of interesting papers. There was a scattered stack of files all about the disappearances around town as well as ‘the sacrifices’ that were returned. “Why on earth was Dad doing research into this ?” Amity stammered as they skimmed over the contents of the desk. She quickly came across a note upon the desk that stood out so conspicuously that she was surprised she hadn’t seen it sooner. It read,
“Waterspout, I’ve been marked. They know we know. You know what to do.
~Jack”
“Waterspout? Who in Tartarus is that?” Amity snorted in frustration. “And just what exactly is it that they were supposed to know?”
“Clearly it has something to do with the disappearances, and not just around our town, there’s notes on places I’ve never even heard of here. What on Earth did your father get himself into?” Charlotte sounded worried as she skimmed over more papers. “Amity, we can’t just leave these notes here. Whatever they are and whatever they mean, it’d be worse for your father, and for you, if they’re found here.” Amity turned to her friend. “If they find these notes, they’re going to come after you… I… I think there is a very good reason that your father left town.” Charlotte’s face grew increasingly concerned. “When we get out of here, I think it'd be best if we were to leave town. Immediately.”
“Agreed.” Amity nodded. “We’ll stop for some supplies at my house, but we’ll leave right after.” The mares began gathering all the notes together, and once they were neatly stacked they fit nicely into Amity’s saddlebags. The desk now empty, they returned to the entrance of the crawlspace and climbed out. “Help me put the stones back.” Amity whispered as she closed the grate and began putting stones back into place.
As they lifted the last stone into place, they flipped it over, hiding the symbol that helped them to locate the crawlspace to begin with. “We’ll burn the floor plan for this floor later as an extra measure.” Amity decided as she added it to the stack of papers in her bags. She had no more than finished the sentence when the door swung open and a light was cast into the room.
“What the hell? I knew I heard voices in here!” A voice beyond the light said, surprisingly somewhat hushed. “You two can’t be in here... Actually, how did you even GET in here?” He asked. Amity recognized the voice as the stallion who had recently stomped his way out of the security room. She stammered incoherently before Charlotte stepped in and spoke.
“We were looking for the stallion who owned this office…he’s her father.” She glanced over to Amity and back over to the security guard. “We thought that maybe there’d be some clue as to what exactly had happened… if only for consolation.” Charlotte explained honestly, although Amity was so grateful her friend left out the extra details. The guard stared thoughtfully for a moment before lowering his flashlight.
“I see…you must be Amity then. Your dad talked about you all the time.” The guard looked sadly over to her and continued. “I’d known your father since I started working here a few years ago. He was a good stallion, one of the only others here that seemed to have his head on right. You have my condolences… my name is Grit, by the way.” He offered a hoofshake to the two mares, who cautiously returned the gesture. “Now, I know what you must be thinking, and I can only imagine what you must be feeling what with the events of the last few days, but you CAN’T be here. You’ll get yourselves into serious trouble. I’m just glad it was me and not one of those deviants who found you.”
“Y-you’re not going to turn us in, are you?” Amity asked anxiously.
“No. Because I’m a friend of your father, and because of the situation caused by his… disappearance, I won’t. I’ll escort you two out safely, but I must implore that you don’t return. It’s not just the administration and how strict they are with punishment, but if you get caught by the wrong guards here… well, let’s just say they’re not afraid to take what they want from younger mares…” Grit said sourly. Their eyes widened upon hearing this.
“Are you saying they’ve raped mares?” Charlotte whispered with alarm. Grit said nothing, but his expression told the whole truth of it. Amity and Charlotte exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“We need to get you out of here. Quietly.” Grit said seriously, and motioned for them to follow.
At the back entrance of the facility, Grit opened the door and called to the guard on duty. After a brief exchange, the outer guard was relieved to the break room and Grit took his place. Once the other guard had gone, Amity and Charlotte came out of the utility cabinets by the door and proceeded outside.
“Okay. You’re out, and you’re safe. Now please, go home. This is my job on the line if you’re caught now.” He said with a hint of anxiety at the prospect of it. Not needing to be told twice, Charlotte readily began to trot off toward the tree-line. Amity had been thinking though.
“Wait. Grit, who’s Waterspout? Do you know him?” Amity asked. A bit taken aback, Grit turned and stared at her.
“Ol’ Spout? He used to work here, ‘til he was caught stealing valuable water purification notes. Knowing him, it was probably to sell them off, the damn druggy.” Grit said with no effort to hide his disdain. “But… the poor fool had a problem, for sure. He didn’t have another soul around to really help him either, so I suppose it was inevitable in the end. Why do you ask?” He asked suspiciously.
“Oh… well, my father mentioned him before he left the last time.” Amity lied. “Just thought he might know a few things… is there any way you could tell me where he is, and if I could get the chance to talk with him?”
“I wouldn’t really recommend it. Like I said, he’s a known addict. But if you must, I do know the stallion who is the head guard at the jail he’s being kept in. His name’s Gut Punch if you need to know. It’s the one on the outskirts of the southern part of town, just tell him I sent you and he’ll likely let you in.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “Hey, and remember kid, keep it all on the down-low. You know how this town is...”
“Thank you so much.” Amity smiled and trotted to catch up with Charlotte, who’d reached the tree-line already.
“What took so long?” she asked.
“We’ve got another detour before we leave.” Amity whispered excitedly.
At the guard station, they were met with disapproving looks from the police stallions out front. The guards clearly weren’t happy about ponies visiting at such a late hour, least of all ones who were so recently renowned to be outcast. But when questioned, Amity followed Grit’s instructions and asked to see the guard named Gut Punch. The guards reluctantly let the two mares inside to meet with the cell guard privately.
His office area was located just outside the door to the cell block, assumingly so his eyes could always be upon it. Gut Punch was a large, muscular stallion with a rather messy grey coat. His oily, unkempt green mane and tail looked sickly against it, despite him otherwise looking the picture of physical health.
“Um… w-we’re here to see-“ Amity began, only to be cut off.
“Nopony. You’re not going to get to see anypony. Least of all at this time of night.” Gut Punch scoffed without even raising his eyes from his paperwork.
“But... But Grit said-“ She tried again.
“Grit? Grit sent you here?” The mares suddenly had his attention. “To see who?”
“Waterspout.” Amity said hopefully. Gut Punch eyed her sharply before setting down his paperwork.
“The druggy? What’s your interest in that old moron?” He said as he rose to his hooves. He had appeared almost humorously big behind his small desk when sitting, but when he stood at his full height, he was frightfully large.
“Irrelevant.” Charlotte interrupted before Amity could speak. “Our business with him is our own. All you need to know is that it is absolutely vital that we speak with him. Grit said that you could allow us the audience with him that we need. Was he wrong?” Gut Punch stood silently, glaring down intensely at the little unicorn before letting out a sigh and nodding reluctantly.
“If you weren’t friends of Grit’s, I’d have you both thrown out of here so fast your heads would spin.” Gut Punch growled menacingly. “But I trust him. He was my finest trainee at the academy, and if he trusts you, then so do I...for now.” Gut Punch grabbed his keys and made his way toward the door to the cell block. “He’s at the very end. Do what you need to do, but make it quick… damn mares.” He snapped. “Oh, and I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.” Gut Punch glared.
Relief washed over the two mares and they proceeded through the door which was forcefully slammed behind them. They winced and shared an uncomfortable glance, but pressed onward to the end of the cell block. A number of other ponies were locked up in the cells, a couple of stallions whistled at them, making sexual gestures as they went by. A mare reached over to them, crying out a desperate need for some sort of drug. At the end of the hall, there was a cell containing only one rather frail looking stallion within it. He was blue with a faded yellow mane that appeared to be thinning terribly. He was hunched rather purposefully in the corner.
“Are you Waterspout?” Amity asked. The stallion raised his head, startled by their presence.
“D’pends. Who wants ta know?” He snorted indignantly.
“My name is Amity, and I have some questions for you.” She was already convinced that he wouldn’t give them any answers.
“Ah ain’t tellin’ ya nuttin’!” He exclaimed, stamping a hoof. “Ah ain’t got yer damned papers, an’ even if Ah did, Ah wouldn’t give ‘em to da likes uh you!”
“Um…we’re not here to ask you for papers…” Commented Charlotte leerily. His ears perked up a bit at that, but he still refused to turn and face them.
“Mr. Waterspout, please, you may be the only clue for me to be able to find my father’s whereabouts. Can you at least tell us what these are supposed to be about?” Amity pleaded and levitated the stack of notes she’d collected from her father’s office and levitated them over to where Waterspout was sitting. With a gasp, the old Earthen pony ripped the papers from the air and looked them over. He finally turned toward them with an intrigued smile upon his face.
“So…you mush be Jack’sh daughter.” He mused. “Dish changes fings. Dish changes fings indeed.” He laughed wheezily and flashed a fairly toothless grin. He motioned for them to lean in closer to the bars. “Derr ain’t much Ah can tell ya here, it ain’t shafe. And with recent accusins’, tain’t likely dat Ah’ll be gettin’ out of dis blasted cell anytime soon. And even when Ah do, it’s likely mah death is da cause. Take dese notes back, keep ‘em safe, and out of da hooves of da officials. Find mah daughter, she’s to take mah place once Ah’m gone anyways. She can guide ya on from here.” He whispered urgently in his strange, gummy accent.
“Go to da old Heart’swell Bakery what got ‘bandoned after da sacr'fice. Derr is an open speakeasy ‘round da back at night. In da very back of da speakeasy is ‘nother door, most people jus’ ‘sume it’s where dey make da booze. Knock three times an’ give ‘em dis password: da gears’re turnin’… now go on, git outta here!” Waterspout motioned for them go leave immediately. “An’ don’t go comin’ back dis way no more! It’s dangrous! Derr’s eyes an’ ears errywhere.” He whispered to them as they took the notes back.
Shoving the papers back into her saddle bags, Amity motioned for Charlotte to follow quickly, and they hastily trotted past the creeps in the surrounding cells. Hurrying through the door, they closed it behind them and said a quick thank you to Gut Punch, who grunted an unpleasant acknowledgement and waved his hoof to usher them out. Once outside the earshot of anypony at the station, Charlotte pointed out it’d be best to not linger around and that they should either go back to Amity’s house or see if the speakeasy is still open.
“We may as well check the speakeasy… since it’s closer than home.” Amity suggested, which according to the look she received from Charlotte, clearly wasn’t the answer that she had been hoping for. “I’m sorry… I guess we could go back home for tonight if you’d prefer.” She relented. She hadn’t realized just how tired that she herself had become until that moment.
“We’ve been awake for approximately 20 hours now, but it’s true that the speakeasy is right along the way to your house…” Sighed Charlotte. Their ears perked up suddenly to a noise and the mares turned towards the edge of the nearby forest. It started low at first, sounding distant and mournful with a single call. “The howls…” Charlotte muttered, her face going pale. As the call went on it grew louder and more voices joined in. It quickly began to take on the demeanor of something screaming with a ravenous hunger. “We’ll DEFINITELY be going to the speakeasy!” Charlotte screamed and ran towards town.
“Agreed!” Amity shouted, and took off behind her friend. The nightly screeches from the forest worked as a good motivator to keep them moving. They quickly enough found themselves rounding the corner to the market, the old bakery building well within sight. The howling from the forest still resounded loudly through the empty streets, calling out to them hungrily and sorrowfully. The clacking of their hooves on the street was drowned out by the ghastly howls, and Amity wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand to be out in the open while they continued to call.
Everypony for generations had heard the screams of the forest, and knew them well, but when in the safety of one’s home the harshness of the tones were drowned out, and the depth of fear they incited felt dulled by familiar comforts. Beside her, Charlotte was gasping frantically as she ran. Amity imagined that since she’d previously been a mare of a ‘higher standard’, Charlotte had likely never been outside of her home after 8:00 at the latest. Frankly, much like herself and anypony else. Once the light of the fauna died down, most ponies hoped they’d be deeply asleep before the nightly tirade from the forest began.
Around the back of the old bakery was what appeared to be an old, rundown shed. They were tempted to pass it up and look elsewhere but for the faint sound of voices coming from it. They approached it with trepidation, but the loud torture of the howls won out in the end. The two mares burst quickly through the door to the shed, making sure to shut it tightly behind them. A small, fairly well lit stairway led down to what appeared to be a root cellar that had been expanded out to suit a medium sized bar and an assortment of collected tables. Happy to leave the muffled cries behind them, Amity and Charlotte entered to find a small crowd of ponies. Many were completely drunk, some gambled, while others seemed to be better enjoying the atmosphere.
Charlotte melted right into the jollier mood, and blended well into the happy crowd. Amity felt much more awkward with the situation. Nopony thought it was weird that two unfamiliar mares walked into what she was assuming their regular bar. Then again, if what Waterspout had told her was true, uncommon folk must walk into the bar quite regularly. Amity made her way through the crowd of ponies to the back of the pub, having to practically drag Charlotte away from the crowd and beers.
There in the back, just as Waterspout had said, was a heavy wooden door like that to a cellar. Raising her hoof, she knocked heavily three times and waited. After a few aching moments, the door opened up just enough to see a shadowy stallion peeking through.
“Like a well-oiled machine…” his voice hissed.
“Uh, the gears are turning?” Amity offered, remembering the phrase she’d been given. The stallion gave a satisfied grunt before shutting the door. The sound of locks and multiple door chains being undone could just be heard over the laughter and noise of the pub. The door soon opened again, this time with the stallion motioning for them to enter. Once the door was shut behind them, the stallion lit up the area with magic from his horn. They were in a short hallway above another small spiraling staircase.
“Follow me.” The stallion smiled a surprisingly welcoming smile, and began descending down the stairs. With a bit of relief showing on their faces, Amity and Charlotte followed. At the base of the small stairway, they found themselves in a larger mess hall where the delicious smell of food lingered and many ponies were eating and talking. “Welcome to The Brotherhood!” The stallion who led them whinnied with excitement.
Author's Note
This is the fourth and final part of the original Chapter 1 of this story, it was divided to make the chapters easier to read.
