The Little Mermare

by AbsoluteAnonymous

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Lyra, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Bon-Bon, Other
Length: 6164

Lyra is a kelpie.

According to the legends, seaponies are friendly creatures dedicated to helping those in need. The truth may be uglier than anypony ever expected. For as it turns out, although seaponies are little more than creatures of fantasy, kelpies are very much real.

Published 2012-06-26 17:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-06-26 17:34:02 UTC

The Little Mermare

Lyra strapped the saddlebag carrying her instrument onto her back, checking the hold to make sure it was fitted securely as she did so. Bonbon stood by and watched.

"Good luck out there," she said when Lyra glanced up and caught her staring. "I bet you'll do amazing."

"Think I'll draw a big crowd today?"

"Definitely. Of hundreds, even."

"Heh. Thanks!" Lyra said, grinning. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Bonbon grinned back. Lyra leaned forward to give her roommate a fumbling hug. It only saved from being awkward by Bonbon quickly moving to return it.

No matter how relaxed she was acting, Lyra couldn't ignore the flutter of anxiety in her stomach. It was already late in the morning, and she was quickly losing time. How could she have let herself become delayed for so long?

If she wanted to have enough time to play, she needed to leave as soon as possible.

"I'm going now, Bonnie. You have a good day too, all right?"

Bonbon nodded, still smiling. "See you tonight."

Lyra kept her eyes shut as she played, hooves dancing expertly across the strings of her instrument. Those passing by would occasionally stop and listen, offering smiles and appreciative grins before continuing on their way. She said nothing and merely continued playing, utterly engrossed in her song.

Open-air concerts in the town square were a regular thing for her; a way to let herself relax and become lost in the music in a way she couldn't do otherwise. These casual performances of hers never brought in much extra income, especially since she rarely remembered the tip jar, but that didn't really matter.

She didn't play for money. She played because she needed to.

Gradually her hooves lost speed until at last she was strumming the final few notes of the melody. Those still listening offered a brief but enthusiastic round of applause until she began playing once more, this time moving on to an elegy of her own composition. The audience in turn drifted apart and moved as well, the spell cast she'd cast over them broken for the time being.

She was hardly bothered by it. She was too lost in the sound of her own playing to care whether she had an audience or not. After all, if she didn't even do it for the money, then she certainly didn’t do it for them.

She sang for the sake of the music inside her, aching to break free. She played for the sake of the soft, mournful tones of her lyre, begging to be released. She didn’t play to be heard. She played to be free of the grip the music had on her, and this was the only way she could do it.

An entire day could pass like this.

Lyra didn't open her eyes even once. She remained seated in a trance-like stupor on the bench in the town square the whole time, oblivious to the innocent ponies around her who'd found themselves instinctively drawn to her song-making.

At last she stopped playing.

She opened her eyes and blinked, startled, when she found herself greeted not only by the sight of the red-and-orange-streaked evening sky, but by a little blue unicorn filly sitting at her hooves.

"That was amazing!" the filly cried as she leapt upright, purple tail swishing happily. Her lavender eyes shone with admiration as she gazed up at the lyrist. "Do you play here every day? You're so good! And your harp is really pretty, too!"

"Uh ... yeah, I do," Lyra mumbled, not meeting the filly's eyes. She tried to ignore the way the little foal's face fell when she looked away. "And it's not a harp, actually. It's a lyre."

Normally she wouldn't have been so abrasive, but she couldn't help it. She'd been sick all day, no matter how easy she'd been acting that morning, forced to stick to the bench rather than risk moving. As if the nausea and breathlessness hadn't been bad enough, every step she took felt like a thousand shards of glass being driven into her skin.

She had no idea how much longer she could hold on.

"Oh," the filly said, blinking. "Um, I'm sorry. But ... it's still pretty, though!"

"Thanks," Lyra replied absent-mindedly, making a conscious effort to avoid looking at the filly as she magically floated her lyre towards her saddlebag to put it away. She stood up after stowing it and regretted it almost instantly. The sharp stabbing pain that shot through her legs was in no way worth it. Nor was the way the simple act of standing could so easily knock the wind from her lungs, making them scream for oxygen.

Night was fast approaching. She couldn't wait any longer. It was her own fault, too, for letting herself get such a late start that morning. She'd waited far too long as it was and Lyra didn't know if she'd be able to hold on if she strayed much more than she already had.

She wouldn't even be able to go and see Bonbon first the way she usually did. How in Equestria would she explain herself in the morning? Bonbon may have grown accustomed to her many habits and eccentricities in the time they'd spent together as roommates, but she still didn't know anything about Lyra's slipping away at night. Let alone where she went. Or why.

Distracted, Lyra glanced up only to see that the unicorn filly was still standing there, watching her and wearing a curious expression of hurt and bewilderment.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to go now," she said stiffly. Normally she was able to at least feign some level warmth or friendliness when addressing the ponies around her, but the ache was growing worse. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible before she collapsed.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" the filly asked.

Lyra swallowed.

"Sure!" she said brightly, forcing the cheer into her voice. "And you come and watch if you like. Maybe I can even show you how to play the lyre."

The little unicorn beamed at that. "Okay!" she sang. "See you tomorrow then, Miss Lyra!"

"No problem!" Lyra chirped.

Without even a moment more of hesitation, she began to trot her way out of the town square, moving as quickly as she could. She picked up speed more and more the further out she got until finally she was running, leaving Tootsie Flute behind to stare after her, entranced.

For a moment, the filly was still.

The memory of the song Lyra had sung continued to wander her thoughts, even though the unicorn had finished and left so abruptly.

Then she saw something.

She swallowed, glancing left and right, as though trying to judge whether there were any witnesses present who might stop her.

But nopony even seemed to notice.

A minute later, breath coming from her lips in shallow bursts in her eagerness, she began running towards the forest.

The forest was safety. It was only there that she could let herself begin to let herself ease up. Lyra may not have been able to breathe yet, but the moment she crossed the borders of Everfree, she knew she was close. The promise of imminent relief was enough to give her the strength to continue, even as she wheezed and saw stars and winced in pain with every step.

Although the forest was her safety, it could never be mistaken for anypony else's safety. Even to her, the mare who needed it more than anypony, Everfree seemed wild and dangerous. Threatening.

As she made her way down the twisting path - a path that almost seemed to have been made for her, with the trees growing up all around her rather than along the path - Lyra couldn't help but feel her gaze drift to her surroundings.

The sky was barely visible through the cover of deadened limbs. There were only hints of the star-spangled midnight peeking through the cracks. The deeper she went into the forest, the darker the trees became.

The ominous lingering aura of the Everfree only grew more and more foreboding the further in she wandered.

In the distance she could almost hear the sound of whispering and snapping twigs, as though something was following her, but Lyra knew better than to be afraid. The Everfree Forest was notorious for the hallucinations and paranoia it could trigger within those lost in it. She, however, wasn't lost.

The texture of the woods had changed at some point. In the beginning, the trees had maintained some degree of natural formation and simplicity. Now they just seemed strange, every limb and bough twisting in ugly, alien ways.

Even so, they were still familiar. She'd seen them so many times already that she knew by now what they meant. The deeper she went and the stranger the trees became, the closer she was getting to her salvation.

It lay within the thickest part of the woods, all but hidden by miles of dense forest all around.

A small, isolated lake.

It was there that Lyra was now headed.

Ugh. She couldn't bear the weight of her pony skin any more. It ... itched. It was too heavy, too warm, too thick, a horrible burden that was threatening to suffocate her, to smother her, if she wore it any longer.

She needed to shed it. To find relief in the cold, clear water of the lake. If Lyra didn't get there soon, then surely she'd pay. Her stomach would twist and turn into a thousand knots; she wouldn't be able to eat or sleep, yet she'd be plagued by exhaustion and hunger pangs; her legs would cramp and threaten to buckle under her, unwilling to support her weight any longer. Her glamour would crack and fall apart, the illusion that protected her scattering until the world could see her for what she truly was.

Already she felt feverish.

Even if she couldn't see it yet, just knowing that her precious, precious lake was nearby was enough to make her skin tingle with desire.

She needed water. More than food or sleep or air.

She swallowed. She couldn't think; her mind was too busy blurring around the edges. The lake. It was all she could think about. Her desire to swim was desperate and overwhelming. She wanted it. She needed it.

More, more, more.

There was something in the air, maybe, something electric that tasted of summer and freedom and everything she longed for at that moment.

More, more, more.

Tiny hooves tripped along a path winding through the Everfree Forest. The night rang with the sounds of crunching leaves and snapping twigs and one jangling lyre.

The filly felt kind of light-headed as she wandered amongst the trees, but her thoughts were too consumed by the need to find Miss Lyra for her to worry about the wave of dizziness that just wouldn't leave. It was like she was following a thread. A thread she felt rather than saw.

All around her, great leering trees stared back, daring her to wander any further. They stood perfectly still, like statues in a living museum where no leaf dared to fall. Eyes seemed to glimmer from the tree hollows and the wind howled between distorted trunks, carrying with it the sickly stench of rotting wood. Yet the path stretched before her surprisingly invitingly, like it had been waiting for her all along. So she pushed on, following the thread. Giving in to the pull.

A last she arrived. The ache was unbearable by then and Lyra could already feel the illusion begin to slip away.

The lake looked strange at night. The moon reflected off the vaguely rippling water in curious broken glints, like so many shards of glass catching the light and leaving everything else to languish in shadow. The water itself seemed to shine with a soft and fresh light, drawing attention away from the gloom surrounding it.

As she shed her glamour, Lyra's appearance began to change, so slowly and subtly as to almost be unnoticeable at first. Like the surface of a pond that had had a pebble tossed in. Rippling and shifting, little by little.

Her skin, already an unusual shade of green, began to take on a different tone. Soon it was almost the same bottle-green color as glass and it changed, growing thick and smooth and slippery like the skin of a seal.

Her mane grew longer and longer until it was hanging around her face in dripping, silky white falls with black, snaky tendrils of weeds caught in it, presumably by mistake - yet they looked to be so perfect and fitting that they almost gave the impression of having been woven in intentionally.

The last to change was her eyes. Once a lovely shade of gold, they gradually shimmered and darkened into an unsettling red.

Already the pain was melting away.

She could almost feel the smooth tongue of the water lapping at her, offering comfort she couldn't find anywhere else.

Not in Ponyville. Not in her "friends." Not anywere in the charade she'd upheld her entire life in hopes of avoiding the same persecution faced by her cousins, the changelings. Not even in her music - the music that possessed her and just wouldn't let go.

She could only find comfort in the water. Her entire body screamed with desire for it during the day, but it was only at night and in the safe solitude of the Everfree Forest that Lyra could escape and find the peace she so badly desired. It was only then that she could finally satisfy her darkest cravings.

She stepped into the water, groaning with delight as it wrapped around her, quivering in pleasure as it wrapped around her and pulled at her legs and welcomed her back after her long hiatus.

Instantly, the pain disappeared.

Oh, the water ...

Before Lyra could stop herself, the music began to pour out of her, tumbling from her mouth like she couldn't get it out fast enough. The song that had been welling inside her for so long was at last free.

The intoxicating melody had no real tune or words and instead rose up from within her purely by instinct. She didn't have to restrain herself like she did during her open-air performances for fear of attracting too much attention to herself and her siren song.

Wait. No. Her lyre. Where was her lyre?

Her instrument was like an extension of herself. Surely she wouldn't have forgotten it ...

... but she'd been so desperate to appease her need to swim that she hadn't really been paying attention when she'd left Ponyville. She'd gotten so lost in singing that she'd lost track of time, and then the next thing she'd known she'd been running through the woods towards her sanctuary.

Maybe she'd accidentally left her bag on the bench. No matter. She could go and get it the next day. For now, this was enough, even if it was slightly more uncomfortable without it. She was still hungry, but at least she could swim and sing and end the pain. If only for a little while.

There had been stories about seaponies for as long as anypony could remember. No matter how much time passed by, ponyfolk never stopped whispering to one another about the legends of the fish-tailed mares, nor did they stop exchanging stories of sinking ships getting dragged to safety and drowning foals being returned to their families by the friendly water dwellers.

Yet nopony had ever seen a seapony. And so they remained little more than the stuff of myth, finding life only in the tales passed down from parent to child throughout the ages. Forever trapped in fantasy.

Kelpies, though, were very much real. For centuries they'd existed separately from Equestrian society, always on the outskirts and on the fringe of life around them.

Lyra hadn't met one of her own kind in at least three hundred years. They'd all been driven out by Celestia and her soldiers during various extermination missions, along with most of the changelings. It was only by using her shapeshifting magic to take on the guise of an ordinary pony that she was able to survive in modern-day Equestria unscathed. The changelings had apparently retained too much pride for that and had accepted their exile, hoping to someday return and overthrow the princess that had banished them.

During the day she went about the life of Lyra Heartstrings. Lyra, the would-be concert lyrist and roommate to Bonbon the aspiring confectioner. During the night she shed her disguise and gave in to her hunger for water, travelling deep into the Everfree Forest to the one place she knew she'd always be safe to sing and swim to her heart's content.

Without fear. That fear was what drove her to stay in hiding and spend an eternity slowly starving to death rather than give in to her true nature too much. As an immortal, she could waste away and never die, not unless she was killed, and Celestia's wrath would surely be worse than death; it was better not to risk it at all.

Lyra certainly didn't hate ponies. She didn't even really dislike them. What she felt was more of a general sense of disdain and detachment towards them. It certainly didn't extend to their race as a whole. Like with Bonbon. She was quite fond of Bonbon, in a way, sort of, and Bonbon seemed to feel much the same way. Lyra very much doubted that she'd be able to find another mare in all of Equestria who was as patient and willing to put up with Lyra's unfamiliarity with pony customs as Bonbon was. It was purely a matter of convenience, their staying together.

And Bonbon could never find out the truth. Ever. Not if Lyra wanted to survive. Nopony could.

There was a reason she stayed in the background so often, doing whatever she could to make it through each day without drawing attention to herself and risking having somepony look to closely and notice her flaws.

If any of them knew what she really was ...

She shuddered.

But no. Now was not the time for worrying or bitterness. Now was the time for embracing the soothing feel of water on her skin as her thirsty body drank it all in.

Lyra lowered her head into the water, allowing her mane to swirl all around her. The noise of the forest was emptied from her ears and replaced with nothing but the silence of the lake and the sound of her own voice as still she sang.

Then a twig snapped. Instantly she broke the surface and whipped her head around to fix her unsettling red eyes on the intruder.

Standing on the shore and gazing at Lyra with a dazed expression on her face was the little blue unicorn filly from earlier.

The song stopped.

"Miss Lyra?" Tootsie Flute breathed, taking a hesitant step forward.

"What are you doing here?" Lyra cried. Her eyes were wide with alarm. "How did you find me?"

"You left behind your har - lyre," Tootsie Flute explained. Her eyes no longer had the haunted look of one hypnotized about them, but she still seemed somewhat dazed. "On the bench. I followed you to bring it back. But ... but then you started singing ... " Her eyes widened as well. "Are ... are you ... are you a seapony?"

There was such wonder in the filly's eyes that Lyra almost wanted to laugh, but she managed to restrain herself. This wasn't a laughing matter, not at all. For the first time in as long as she'd lived in Ponyville, Lyra had been discovered. She couldn't trust a child to keep her secret.

What if Tootsie Flute went home to her parents and told them what she'd seen? Sure, they might just write it off as a filly's nonsense, but what if they didn't? What if they actually did something?

And ... just seeing the filly was making her feel so very, very hungry. There was a reason she'd chosen such an isolated lake as her own; so that she wouldn't be faced with temptation such as this by somepony finding her.

It had been so long since Lyra had last fed. She'd restrained herself, choosing gradual starvation over risk of exposing herself and knowing that it wouldn't actually kill her. During the day, when she repressed her urges beneath her glamour, she was able to ignore it.

But now at night, when she was still in the throes of her song and hopelessly drawn to the addictive allure of the water and finding her true nature impossible to suppress, all she could think about was how hungry she was.

She was so hungry.

This filly would go back to her parents and tell them about the seapony she saw, and Lyra would be driven away from yet another makeshift home once they realized what she was.

And she was already as comfortable as she could ever hope to be; she didn't want to lose yet another safe haven.

So hungry.

She'd avoided feeding for so long because she hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself ... but really, who would miss one tiny little filly? Equestria was full of them. And they were all the way out in the Everfree Forest, where nopony dared wander unless they were amazingly stupid or under some kind of thrall. The way Tootsie Flute had been.

That must have been why she'd dared follow Lyra in the first place.

Nopony would know. And if one missing filly was really such a big deal, they could always just make more.

So hungry.

There was a very simple solution to all of this.

Lyra smiled.

"I suppose you could call me a kind of seapony," she said. Her voice was soft and deep; soothing. When Tootsie Flute had first woken from her daze, Lyra had seen the fear in her eyes as she'd gradually realized where she was, but the fear was seeping away as the child listened to her speak. "I may not be from the sea, but I love to swim. Thank you so much for bringing me my lyre, little filly."

"You're welcome," Tootsie said softly. Her legs were trembling slightly, Lyra noticed. Probably from carrying Lyra's adult-sized saddlebag for so long.

"You must be tired," Lyra continued, keeping her voice as soothing as possible. "Why don't you come and join me? Bring me my lyre and step into the water. I can sing for you and show you how to play. Come into the water."

Almost too eagerly, Tootsie Flute nodded. She began stumbling forwards towards the lake. Even if Lyra wasn't using song, her voice alone was enough to lure Tootsie right into the trap. It would be a simple matter to lure her in."Give me my lyre," she commanded, and the filly did so, pulling it from the bag and holding it out. Lyra took it, eyeing it greedily. "Come into the water," she repeated, glancing back up and smiling once more, baring her sharp, pointed teeth. "It's so warm and comfortable. It'll be soothing, and then we can sing together."

Tootsie Flute hesitated.

Before she could begin to doubt and snap herself out of the spell on her own, Lyra began to pluck the strings of her instrument.

"Do you hear that?" she said "Isn't it pretty? If you come closer, I'll show you how to do this. And then you can make music, too."

Every note of the song was a thread. Gradually they wove together, forming a net of music that closed in around Tootsie Flute, closer and closer, drawing her nearer and nearer to the shore.

Then she stopped, moments before touching the water.

"I ... I don't know how to swim," she mumbled. Her eyes were still glazed over from the trance, but she retained enough awareness to stop herself from following the music any further.

"That's all right," Lyra cooed, gliding to the shore. She might as well meet the child halfway, especially if it would end . "I'll hold you. I'll keep you safe. Come and climb onto my back, and I'll carry you. You have nothing to fear from this lake." Still she plucked the lyre.

When in unicorn form, Lyra was often forced to do things with her hooves. Her horn was a false one that held no true magic, and what little magic she did have was weak Those around her tended to think that her habit of using her hooves for everything was just another endearing eccentricity of hers; they didn't know that she didn't do it by choice.

Her true magic was in her music. It was her greatest weapon, not to mention her greatest curse. Part of the burden of being a kelpie was her hopeless addictions to that which made her what she was - the water and her music. Living without it during the day, when she was forced to live in the guise of an ordinary mare, was torture.

It was only when the child was in the water that Lyra would have any power over her. As long as Tootsie Flute remained on dry land, she had no claim to her. She needed her to touch the water.

Plucking the lyre, picking out the melody, casting the spell and weaving the net, drawing the child closer and closer to her. Singing.

The child was already lost.

Tootsie Flute stretched a hoof forward and reached for Lyra.

Lyra smiled at her, baring a mouth of needle-sharp teeth, but the filly saw only the music.

The moment their hooves touched, Lyra yanked.

Tootsie Flute fell into the water with a splash and a cry of surprise.

At first, she didn't even fight it. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, letting loose a stream of bubbles ... yet she simply floated there and allowed Lyra dragged her even further into the murky depths of the lake. Then she began to struggle.

But there was no escaping a kelpie. Not when it finally had a hold on you. Not when you were already in the water.

Tootsie Flute floundered, trying to escape Lyra's grip and break the surface. Lyra snapped forward and sank her teeth into Tootsie's leg. Blood welled from the bite and clouded the water. The filly screamed through the water, letting loose another stream of bubbles, but Lyra only dragged her deeper.

Lyra wondered at death sometimes. She'd never seen it herself, except for when she'd fed long, long ago. It looked almost like ecstasy, now that she was once again seeing it up close. Ponies opened their mouths as they drowned, she noticed, clawing at her and digging into her skin with their hooves, eyes wide and startled as they thrashed. Almost as though in the throes of passion.

And then the filly grew still. A single bubble floated to the surface, spinning like a whirligig before bursting out into the still night.

Ribbons of purple mane floated before Lyra. She saw sightless eyes and an open mouth, full to the teeth with water, and so she began to drag the lifeless body of Tootsie Flute back to the surface.

Lyra broke through the water and dragged the bobbing corpse behind her as she glided to the bank.

She sang as she did so, turning her face to the sky and opening her mouth. Her song came high and keening. She couldn't hold it back.

The filly's body was still fresh. Her mouth watered just from looking at it.

So young. So tantalizing. And the hunger ... it was so painful. So ugly.

It had been so long since Lyra had last fed. She licked her lips. Giggling to herself, she sank her teeth into the throat of the filly and tore.

Clouds of red blood stained her once-perfect lake.

What was that taste? she wondered. Metallic and cold to some, but sweet as honey and wine and spices to her. And the flesh - sweet, sweet flesh. Some would find it sour or rotten, with an aftertaste like vomit against their tongue, but this filly's flesh was rich and sweet and absolutely delectable to her.

There was only one thing she could do at that moment.The body and the blood were both right there, begging for her to feed.

She bit down on the filly's neck, and ... delight, blind delight ... her face was wet with blood and water, but that was right. It was all right. It was right, it was right, it was right, it was ... so delicious. She'd needed this! How had she gone so long without feeding?

The blood was hot and wet and soothed that ragged, itching thirst burning in her throat like nothing else. As much as she needed to swim, drinking of the water in her lake was never enough to relieve that thirst. Only blood could do that. It was such release. Like when she swam, or when she sang and played her lyre; it was freeing something dark and toxic that was trapped within her.

If all she needed to do to ease the pain was to swim and sing and eat, then why didn't she do all three more often? Why try and hide it?

It was just one small filly. One small, harmless, helpless little filly. Nopony would miss her.

She'd gone so long without eating, starving slowly but certainly and kept only from death by her own immortality. Lyra had almost grown used to it - to the hunger and thirst. But now that she was finally feeding again, she already felt the lust rising in her belly for more. More sweet, sweet blood and flesh. A delicacy that she had restrained from for far too long, feeding instead on stolen cattle and sheep. But they weren't enough. Never enough. They made for far too poor a substitute to ever truly satisfy her.

She wanted more.

All but the liver. She never ate the liver in her victims. It tasted bitter and wrong, like poison. She tended to leave the liver on the shore, to be dealt with by some wild animal. That, or abandon it in the water and let it wash up somewhere where she didn't have to worry about it.

The liver was the only part she refused to eat, however; she refused to let anything else go to waste, making use of the entire thing. She'd gone so long without any pony flesh at all. How could she waste a single bite now that she finally had some?

First, drinking blood from the wound in the child's throat until there was nothing left to drink. Then, tearing at her flesh, mauling the filly's corpse with her needle-sharp teeth and feasting on her delicious skin. So tender. And then, she began to move inside, tearing out the heart, the kidneys, the lungs, devouring them all, not paying the slightest attention to which organ was which in the midst of her frenzy.

She ate it all. Not a single bite went to waste except for that one unsavoury organ. She lapped at the blood and gnawed on the flesh and stripped the bones clean until finally there was nothing left but the liver on the shore.

A mixture of blood and saliva trickled from her mouth.

She wiped it away and sighed - she was still drooling.

For the first time in all her life as Lyra Heartstrings, her hunger felt satiated.

But only slightly. She still wanted more.

There was no time for that, though. She'd stolen a night for herself to satisfy all three of her hungers - for music and water and even, miraculously, flesh - and now morning was coming. If she didn't want anypony to be suspicious, she needed to step back into place before they noticed her missing.

Perhaps it wouldn't be such a hard thing, though. The filly had followed her purely by chance, seeking the allure of the song that she'd still been under the spell of. Maybe Lyra could do the same with others. If Lyra just stuck to those ponies in the background, those ponies whom none would notice or care when they disappeared, then maybe she could do this more often.

She could lure them away, deep into the Everfree Forest. To her lake.

And then she could eat.

All but the liver, of course.

The next morning, Lyra felt as though she'd been turned inside out. It was the worst part of mornings. Although she felt refreshed and exhilarated and ready from her swimming, it wouldn't take long before her stomach would begin to churn and the dizziness would overtake her. Soon, the pain would be back and she'd have no choice but to bear it until she could once again escape to the water.

Already the shape she'd shifted into felt too heavy for her. As a unicorn, her limbs were stiff and aching, and it would just get worse as the day went by. At least she wouldn't also have to deal with the hunger pains too, for once. Her stomach was full.

Normally when she returned in the morning's, the town was still and silent and she was able to make her way back to the loft she and Bonbon shared without anypony noticing. But she still needed to think of a reason. Bonbon would probably demand an explanation as to where she'd been all night.

Her lyre jangled in the saddlebag slung over her back, and she pushed open the door to the confectionery shop belonging to Bonbon's family.

Sitting at the table was her roommate and a purple unicorn with her face buried in her hooves who glanced up sharply the moment Lyra entered. "Lyra!" Sparkler cried, rising clumsily from the table and stumbling forwards. There was no trace of sarcasm or anger in her gleaming eyes for once. Just pure desperation. "Have you seen my daughter?"

"Where have you been all night?" Bonbon demanded at the same time.

Lyra didn't even flinch.

"You haven't found her yet?" she cried, turning her gaze to Sparkler and forcing alarm into her voice. The words came so easily, as much to her surprise as anypony else's. She'd have expected it to be more difficult. But she was already a pretty good liar, she realized. She'd gone her entire life in Ponyville lying to everypony she met, after all. Lyra the Liar.

"How did you know she was missing?" Bonbon asked sharply. Yet there was no suspicion in her voice. Just worry.

"She came to see my performance yesterday," Lyra replied. "I thought I saw her wander into the woods, chasing something. I tried to go after her, but I couldn't find her. I thought she might've gone home, so I stopped looking, but ... she's still gone?"

Sparkler's face fell.

"She never came home," she whispered. "I ... I don't know where she is."

Her shoulders began to tremble, and Bonbon wrapped her hooves around her in a comforting hug.

The unicorn sobbed.

Lyra, meanwhile, stopped paying attention. She'd diverted attention from herself and that was all that mattered.

But why in Equestria was Sparkler so upset? It was just a stupid filly. She could have more whenever she wanted to if she liked them so much. A single filly couldn't do much, anyway. She'd get over it soon, Lyra decided.

As Bonbon lead Sparkler away, out of the confectionery and down to the station to file the missing foal's report, Lyra left as well.

Some would think it callous, that she would still insist on holding one of her outdoor concerts when an innocent filly was missing. They didn't understand how badly she needed it.

And besides, there was no sense in worrying along with the rest of them. The filly was gone and that was that. At least she'd been put to good use.

There had to be others out there. Other silly little foals who could easily be lead astray by her magic.

Lyra kept her eyes open as she played, hooves dancing expertly across the strings of her instrument. Those passing by would occasionally stop and listen, offering her smiles and appreciative grins before continuing on their way.

She said nothing and merely continued playing, utterly engrossed in her song.

This time, though, she watched them all.

All around her, mares and stallions and fillies and colts drew near. Closer, closer.

She smiled.

She was getting hungry again, and it was like a veritable feast was being displayed before her.

It was such a beautiful day.