The Filly and her Ghosts

If the filly wasn’t used to grief, then hatred like this was an almost unknown experience. All she knew was that the instant she laid eyes on Eira, the evening’s events had come crashing down on her like a landslide. She heard Rarity telling her off, saw her printed in the page of a book. She saw Eira running out the library door, running and running.

She knocked him off his seat and pinned him to the floor. ‘Why d’you run?’ she screamed.  ‘How could you leave us?’

‘I g-got scared, I-

‘You got scared? I lost my sister, how d’you think I felt?’

‘BREAK IT UP!’

Sweetie’s vision turned purple; her stomach squirmed as she was lifted into the air as though dozens of invisible hooves were picking her up. But she wasn’t the only one bound in Twilight’s magic: beneath her, Eira struggled to free himself from the lavender glow.

‘Let. Me. Go,’ Sweetie said, punctuating each word with a swipe of her hooves. Twilight shook her head.

‘This isn’t you, Sweetie Belle, and you know it. I’m not letting you go until you promise to behave. And I’m not letting you go,’ she said, glaring at Eira, ‘until you promise to stay put.’

‘Let me at him,’ Sweetie moaned. ‘I’ll get him to stay put.’

Twilight sighed patiently. ‘Sweetie. I’m not saying what he did was right, but, I can understand it. And I forgive him.’

‘Y-you, you do?’ said Eira, a dash of hope in his voice.

‘I will when you tell us everything you know about the Book.’

Sensing that there was no escape, he breathed in deeply and nodded. ‘I, I d-don’t know anything useful mind.’

Twilight shrugged. ‘We’ll see. You want to sit down by our table?’

She released him from the magic, and for a second it looked like he would run away again. But he didn’t. Instead he trotted to the table and sat down, taking off his bag, putting it by his hooves.

‘Hay,’ said Sweetie. ‘No fair, how come you let him free before me?’

‘Because you haven’t promised you’re not going to try and fight him.’

‘But, but he didn’t promise anything either!’

Twilight gave her a look that could’ve frozen fire. ‘Alright,’ Sweetie said, shutting her eyes tight. ‘I promise I won’t punch him. Or call him names. Or kick him or bite him. Is that good enough?’

It was. Twilight hovered her to the seat next to the colt’s and let her go (but there was nothing to stop the filly from getting up and sitting on the other side of the table).

Twilight sat next to her. ‘So the Book-

‘How did you get on the train?’ Sweetie interrupted. ‘I was looking out the window the whole time, I swear I didn’t see you on the platform.’

‘I wasn’t t-trying to sneak up on you, if, if that’s what you mean,’ replied the colt. Sweetie narrowed her eyes.

‘Did you even buy a ticket?’

‘... Ticket?’

He scratched his foreleg nervously. ‘I didn’t know you needed one. I’m sorry. Wh-when I ran, I regretted it straight-a-way, so I came back to say sorry- and I’m really, really sorry. But then I was too n-nervous to knock on the door, so I waited, but when you came out you seemed so upset and I wasn’t sure if I should go up to you or not, so... so I followed you instead. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have d-done that.’

If the floor could’ve opened up, depositing him on the tracks below, there wasn’t a doubt in Sweetie’s mind that he would’ve let it. All that stopped him being the most nervous pony she had ever met was the fact that she knew Fluttershy; but even Fluttershy had no problems apologizing to ponies.  All things considered, was it any wonder he had run away?

Don’t think that, she thought. Don’t make excuses for him.

But she couldn’t help it, and she imagined what might have happened had he actually stayed. Could he have read papers with her and Twilight? A fat lot of use that would’ve been- she’d scarcely glanced over them herself, and did he even know how to read? Did they teach reading a hundred years ago?

A century ago. The vastness of it made her head spin.

Did he know he had been missing for so long?

‘When were you in Canterlot again?’ Sweetie asked in a hushed tone.

‘A... a few days ago I think. I don’t know. I don’t remember anyplace called Ponyville. I d-definitely don’t remember a railway line.’

The colour had drained from his fur, and it was as though the angry fire in Sweetie’s heart was quenched in a torrent of water. ‘Do, do you think it could’ve been more than a f-few days?’ Eira said, grimacing. ‘What if it’s been something like a year or two? I mean, everypony was talking about the new railway line they were g-going to build to Manehatten, and, and-

‘Why don’t you tell us about the Book,’ said Twilight. Sweetie nudged her flank. ‘Why don’t we tell him?’ she hissed in her ear

‘Because we should break it to him gently,’ Twilight whispered back. Yet she wore the look of a pony who didn’t trust her own words, and Sweetie- though it made her heart burst with pain- knew exactly where the older unicorn was coming from. How in all Equestria were you supposed to tell a pony, even one you despised, that they had lost an entire century? Everypony Eira had known was gone. Ponyville hadn’t existed. There had been no such thing as electric lights. There had no such thing as photos of your loved ones.

Though she wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer, all of the filly’s self-restraint wasn’t enough to stop her asking the question: ‘You didn’t- I mean, you don’t have a sister, do you? Or a brother?’

He shook his head. The filly’s heart calmed a little.

This doesn’t change things, Sweetie. You still hate him.

He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve got to st-start from the start,’ he whispered. ‘Otherwise it won’t make sense.’

He blushed. ‘Go on,’ Twilight said. ‘We’re listening.’

The colt smiled weakly.

It made Sweetie so sad to see that it hurt like physical pain.

E I R A ‘ S    S T O R Y

This is a unicorn without a name, and here he is on a winter’s night, wrapped lovingly in a sheet and placed in a basket. He is days old. His big, round eyes are fixed curiously on a nearby lamppost illuminating the snowfall, and it’s a quiet street he’s been left in: a hodgepodge of white stone buildings; glazed windows of many different colours, green and reds, purples, blues; and the road is thin and cobbled. Whoever has abandoned the basket has taken care to leave it on the only doorstep with a shelter- the snow falls everywhere but on the foal.

The basket offers poor protection, however, from the wind and the cold; so though the foal is wrapped in a blanket, he shivers, just a little at first, but by the time Celestia’s night draws to a close he is shaking violently. Yet he doesn’t make a sound. Even at dawn when a young mare opens the door and drops an empty milk bottle from shock, there’s not so much as a peep from the foal, no cry, no moan. He looks up with those round eyes of his, eyes the colour of ice- like the night has forever left its mark on him- and smiles.

The mare blinks.

Rushing into the house, she shouts for help, and a moment later is joined by a formidable unicorn with navy fur and eyes, and with a wand and stars for a cutie mark. This unicorn’s name is Taurus, although, in recent years, ponies have begun to call him The Great and Powerful Taurus (it’s a mark of how respected he is around the town that it is not a title he created for himself).

Taurus looks down at the foal. ‘Really?’ he sighs. ‘Again?’

‘Oh, in the dead of winter, Taurus. He must have been here all night, bless his little hooves.’

‘Bless them indeed. What time does the orphanage open?’

‘Taurus, for the sake of Celestia,’ says the unicorn mare (her cutie mark is of a telescope: even when she was a filly, she had a knack for seeing things other ponies didn’t). ‘Has magic really shrivelled up your heart so much as this? Look at him! There’s something different about this one, mark my words.’

‘We’re running low on dragon scales, Miss Glimmer. On your way back, stop off at-

‘Taurus, listen to me: by all rights this foal should be dead from cold and yet here he is, looking up at you. You said you needed an apprentice. Well?’

‘Well what?’ he snaps. ‘What, Moon Glimmer. Three foal in the last year alone! I run a business, not a charity or a nursery. Why, if we had it your way than we should be knee deep in children by now! Do you expect me to take in every foal dumped on my doorstep?’

Yet as his gaze catches the foal’s, he discovers his answer: Moon Glimmer is right. The housekeeper is right. This isn’t the first time a foal has been left on his doorstep, but whereas those others had cried and cried, this one has managed to hold his tongue. Whereas the others had scarcely managed balmy summer nights without breaking into tears, this one has made it through what has been the coldest night of the fiercest winter in decades.

And the foal is still smiling.

There’s fire hidden within his icy eyes. It’s kept him alive throughout the night, and that it’s that self-same spark that now causes Taurus to say, ‘Fine. You think you know best, Moon Glimmer? Hah! I suppose we can warm him up first. But it’s straight to the orphanage after that, and that’s final.’

* * *

Four years have passed since that cold morning Taurus took the foal inside to warm his up. ‘I really mean it this time,’ the magician always says, although by now the words are as empty as the old basket stowed away under Eira’s bed. ‘It’s final. The boy can stay one more night, and that’s it. He’s a good lad, I’ll grant him that, but we don’t have enough time for Eira.’

Eira.

That is his name, and he loves it. He loves the story of how he got it.

‘Our Eira sent to us in the height of winter,’ Miss Glimmer, the housekeeper, says to him every night as she tucks him into bed. ‘And he never made a sound the whole night, bless his little hooves. Not even a little cry.’

‘N-not anything?’ says Eira, stammering as though caught in a blizzard. He’s always stammering. It’s as though that winter’s night crept under his fur and never left.

‘Not even anything,’ Miss Glimmer says, kissing him on the forehead. Then, like a well-rehearsed dance, just as she’s about to leave he begs to hear the story one more time, oh please, please, pretty please. Miss Glimmer, of the white fur and the warm, warm eyes smiles back, saying: ‘Only if you promise go straight to sleep afterwards.’

Eira promises, and once more Miss Gimmer tells him all about how he came to be adopted by The Great and Powerful Taurus, the most wondrous magician in all of Canterlot, such a lucky boy Eira is...

He has never known his real parents.

It’s never occurred to him he might want to.

* * *

One night, Miss Glimmer takes Eira to the roof for the first time. However, it’s no ordinary night- it’s five years to the date the colt was left on the doorstep- and by no means is this an ordinary rooftop, for in the light of the moon, Equestria spreads before them, the fringes of the Everfree Forest visible in the distance, and a great river runs through a vast plain, snaking it’s way to the Valley of Canterlot. In the darkness, the city is a wonder: soft lights shining from towers, all those spires trying to touch the vault of stars... it’s the most wondrous sight the colt has ever seen...

Miss Glimmer, smiling at the joy in Eira’s face, nudges his chin, pointing his gaze to the sky. ‘Can you see those two bright stars above the Royal Castle? Princess Celestia made those stars herself- two twins watching over Equestria.’

‘Why did she m-make them?’

‘My dear, for Luna of course.’

Wrapping him in a thick blanket, she tells him a story of nine centuries past, of the Royal Sisters, Princess Celestia who rose the Sun, Princess Luna who maintained the night; but Luna grew consumed with jealousy that ponies played through the day whilst shunning her night, and as time wore on the bitterness transformed her into a terrible monster which Celestia banished to the moon, never to harm another pony again.

‘I, I don’t get,’ says Eira after a while, confusion written all over his face. ‘If she sent Luna to the moon, than d-doesn’t that mean Celestia didn’t love her? Why make stars for her?’

‘Celestia did love her, Eira, and still does: love isn’t a bond that you can break so easily. She loves her sister very much. Banishing her was the hardest thing she’s ever done.’

‘But... but...’

Eira struggles to put his thoughts into words.

‘... B-but Luna,’ he says eventually, ‘she’s been gone for, for hundreds of years! W-wouldn’t Celestia have forgotten about her by now?’

‘Just because you can’t see somepony it doesn’t mean they’re not there. Like me, for instance. Someday you’re going to be a big, proud stallion. You’re going to visit all the places you can see from this rooftop tonight, and you’re going to be happy, and even if I’m old and I can’t join you, it doesn’t mean I’m not with you. Not really.’ She puts a hoof to her heart. ‘Do you understand?’

Eira shakes his head slowly, but it doesn’t matter; Miss Glimmer knows he’ll get it one day. So she wraps the blanket around him tighter and tells him about the other constellations, about Lightening Dash, the Hydra, the Lyre, and about Orion the great earth pony warrior- Eira wants to know it all! It’s midnight, however, and he’s tired, and soon he’s fast asleep next to Miss Glimmer, a smile lingering on his face.

*

Eira waits for Miss Glimmer to tuck him in. A minute passes, five minutes, half an hour, then at long last the door opens to reveal-

Taurus. Suddenly, the colt realises that his father has never once tucked him into bed...

‘W-where’s Miss Glimmer?’

Taurus stands in the doorway uncomfortably (for all his skills with magic, this, talking to his adopted son, has never been something he’s been good at). ‘We... need to talk, my boy’ he says, his voice shaky. ‘Downstairs. You’ll need some hot chocolate.’

‘... Where’s Miss Glimmer?’

When Taurus doesn’t answer. Eira feels an impish creature clawing the insides of his belly. ‘Where’s Miss Glimmer?’ he asks again, but the stallion shuffles his hooves. ‘Where is she? Dad, where’s Moon Glimmer?’

At the mention of Miss Glimmer’s full name, The Great and Powerful Taurus does something Eira has never seen him do before, something so startling that the imp in his stomach grows wild: the stallion begins to cry.

And now Eira is crying.

He wanders up to his father, presses his face in his mane, and Taurus puts a hoof around him. The moment stretches out like a rubber band pulled to breaking point; the longer it lasts, the more it feels this silence will never end, that the rest of his life will be spent crying into his father’s mane...

*

A year passes, but at speed at which a glacier drifts down a mountainside. Eira struggles to understand how he has made it through this past year with no Moon Glimmer to tell him stories, to play with him, hug him, hold him, comfort him. In those times when he’s alone, he can almost hear her cleaning in the next room; in conversations, he always senses those particular moments when she would’ve spoken.

Eira is yanked out of his thoughts as somepony walks into the shop. ‘W-welcome,’ he says, perking up behind the counter. ‘How may I help, sir?’

He gapes at the sight of the customer. Who can blame him? The pegasus is colossal and one of his wings is withered; on his left flank, a huge scar cuts through his treasure map cutie mark, and on his right flank, stretching up to his mane, three slashes like monstrous claw marks. Over his left eye he wears a patch. On his face he wears a scowl.

‘Taurus,’ he growls. ‘I need to see Taurus. I need to see him now.’

‘I’m a-afraid he’s busy s-sir, but...’ The pegasus’ good eye narrows, forcing Eira to consider his next words with astonishing care. ‘But... b-but I’m sure he’ll make an exception. What did you say your n-name was?’

‘I didn’t,’ says the pegasus.

Eira gulps. As fast as his hooves can take him, he rushes to fetch his father.

*

It’s evening, and Eira struggles to remember the last time he saw Taurus so excited. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he tells the colt. ‘Found in the Everfree forest, past Luna’s castle- by Celestia, look at it!’

It is a Big Black Book with no writing or pictures- for as innocent as it appears, Eira can’t shake the feeling that it’s precisely the sort of thing Moon Glimmer would’ve talked him out of buying. ‘W-why’s it special?’ the colt whispers (he can’t help but whisper). ‘What did the pegasus say about it?’

‘My dear boy, can’t you sense it? That tension, that push and pull? It wants to be hidden yet the same time it wants, needs to be found... whatever is living inside this feels as powerful as the Princess herself. Maybe even-

He lowers his voice to match Eira’s whisper. ‘Maybe even Discord.’

‘... So we’re g-going to destroy it then, right?’

‘Destroy it?’ Taurus laughs. ‘Destroy it? Hah! Silly boy, think of what we could learn from it. All we have to do is figure out how to unlock it’s secrets.’

The Great and Powerful Taurus prods the book with his horn, and though nothing happens it doesn’t perturb him- if anything the challenge fuels his excitement like coal stocked in an engine. A manic look appears on his face, unlike anything Eira has ever seen...

‘D-Dad, I, I don’t like this. Get rid of it.’

Taurus blinks. ‘Get rid of it? My boy, haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’

Eira’s heart beats hard against his chest like a drum, and his forehead is sweaty, and what he wouldn’t give for Moon Glimmer to be there, tell his father exactly why he should rid himself of the Book (he remembers those horrible nights where he would press his ear to his door, listening to muffled arguments and shouting matches between his father and the housekeeper: suddenly, they make a lot more sense to the colt). When Eira speaks again, he does so with more passion than he ever thought possible of himself. ‘Dad, listen to me! I know I don’t k-know as much magic as you, but I’ve got a really, really bad feeling about this. Please!’

He is relieved to see some of the mania fall from the stallion’s face, but it’s short lived. ‘You know,’ Taurus says at last, deliberating his every word. ‘I’ve tried to ignore it, but I’m... I’m sorry. Moon Gimmer’s gone. She was better at this than I’ll ever be. I can’t do it anymore.’

Eira stands there in stunned silence. ‘I’m, I’m sorry?’ he says. Taurus sighs.

‘My boy, let’s be honest. You’ve always known it.’

‘K-known what? What, what are you saying?’

Taurus holds his head in his hooves, again choosing his words with care; when he speaks, Eira’s fears materialize into horrible existence. ‘What I’m saying is: one more night. Then tomorrow you’re packing, and then I’m going to do what I should’ve done the night you were left on my doorstep.’

The colt is shaking his head. ‘Do what, Dad?’ he whispers.

‘Eira. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.’

‘M-make what harder than it has to be?’

‘Eira, listen-

‘NO YOU LISTEN,’ Eira shouts, discovering a voice he never knew existed. ‘You c-can’t throw me out like old rubbish, you’re my Dad!’

‘I am not your father,’ Taurus snaps back, standing up to his full, considerable height. ‘Your father was a swine who abandoned you the first chance he got.’

‘Y-you don’t know that.’

‘Hah! I don’t know that? I’ve raised you, looked after you for eight years and for what? The way you keep yourself, all those hours spent alone reading in your bedroom, and that’s not to mention the way you freeze up in front of others. I’m expected to pass on the title ‘The Great and Powerful’ to you of all ponies? You’re my son, but let’s face it, you’ll never be my equal.’

It’s like the lid has blown off a long dormant volcano; the stallion speaks as though he would’ve said all this year and years ago were it not for a certain mare. ‘But that’s why I read,’ Eira screams back. ‘So I can learn, s-so I can be a unicorn you and Moon Glimmer can be proud of!’

‘My boy, hold your head up when I speak to you.’

Tears stream down the colt’s face as he looks his father in the eye-

Except just like that, in the time takes to throw out the rubbish, Taurus is no longer his father. ‘Dad,’ Eira says, his voice breaking. ‘I want to make you proud...’

The stallion doesn’t respond. Eira tries again. ‘Dad.’

‘Get out,’ says Taurus. ‘Go to bed.’

But still Eira stands there, and the sight of him makes Taurus explode with sudden rage. ‘GET OUT! OUT!’

Eira runs, crying feverishly, and somehow all he can think of is Moon Glimmer, his Moon Glimmer. It’s as though she’s has been taken away from him a second time, his dear mother, oh come back to him, oh please.

*

The next day passes in a haze of nerves and packing, and when evening finally comes- and when Taurus leaves to run an errand- Eira, though it is the scariest thought he has ever had, knows what he has to do. In the old basket he places a thick yellow envelope, and, downstairs, he puts the basket on the shop counter. ‘I’m sorry Dad,’ he says under his breath (hearing a voice, even his own, is comforting). ‘I’m taking the Book too. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.’

The reality of what he’s doing smacks into him with the force of an asteroid strike, and he stares and stares and stares at the basket, that self-same basket he was left in on a snowy night all those years ago. He wonders about his real parents. He’s been doing so a lot recently...

The memory of a summer’s evening sneaks into his mind: he is warm in bed, and he says to Miss Glimmer: ‘D-did my parents love me?’

Miss Glimmer frowns. ‘Darling, what a thing to say. Of course we love you. We love you the sun, the moon and the stars.’

And now Eira is the one who’s frowning. ‘I, I meant my real parents,’ he explains. ‘If they loved me, why did they leave me?’

‘I’m sure they had their reasons. Just think- they left you on the doorstep of Taurus, of all ponies, so they must have hoped for the best. Eira, look at me, look at me right in the eyes: you are loved. You’ll always be loved. I’ll always be here for you...’

The colt shakes his head, his eyes stinging from warm tears. He promises himself not to look back, not for anything, then he smashes the glass cabinet the Book is displayed in, shoves it in his satchel. He runs out of the door into the streets of Canterlot, and in his panic the city is a blur of lights and marble, unicorns dressed up, visiting plays and operas, eating in restaurants, talking, laughing. His heart skips a beat when he spots a soldier of the Royal Guard; how long does he have until Taurus gets home and reads the letter? Will he tell the Guards? Will he use magic? Eira hadn’t considered this, but it seems like such an obvious thought now that he’s had it- surely the magician knows at least one spell to track a missing pony.

Though there wasn’t a storm forecast, nopony seems to have informed the weather of this fact: vicious clouds gather in the darkening sky, and the first flashes of lightning lick the ground. By Celestia, tonight of all nights.

And right on the precipice of walking through the city gates, the scared little colt stops, staring at those cold lands which lay beyond the walls. Those mountains. Those forests. He thinks of the tales Moon Glimmer used to tell him, of young pony folk ambushed by trolls in the night, of unicorns battling ferocious dragons, of Mother Equestria herself throwing trial after trail at adventurous ponies, ice and fire, gales, avalanches, storms. He can smell something, an earthy scent. Not the smell of Canterlot.

The land past the walls: they don’t even smell right.

‘I... I can’t do this...’

The first roll of thunder is so loud that it shakes the ground on which he stands, and the clouds begin to cry. All his life, he’s been the quiet colt who keeps himself to himself, avoiding over ponies, always alone, always...

And then from nowhere he hears Moon Glimmer’s voice sounding in his head, so clearly that she could’ve been kneeling right beside him, whispering in his ear: just because you can’t see somepony it doesn’t mean they’re not there...

And at long last, he understands. When he reaches Manehatten (for that is his plan) he won’t be alone. When he’s worked long enough, made enough money in Manehatten to travel all of Equestria, he won’t be alone.

Shutting his eyes, thinking of his adopted mother, Eira takes the first step into a wider world.

After a hundred paces, the gates close behind him.

After two hundred paces, he is drenched.

***

‘You alright?’ whispered Twilight. ‘If you don’t want to carry on-

‘N-no, I do, I’m sorry. I just... need to t-think about this next part.’

Sweetie Belle’s eyes were watering and her cheeks felt warm. To think that she had wanted to hit Eira, bite him, kick him! Now, she wanted to hold him, remind him that the world was full of love; yet it was such an easy thing to thing to think, so hard to actually do.

Eira gulped. ‘Al-alright. I’m, I’m ready again.’

He launched back into his story, describing how he’d taken the high path, knocked on the first door he came across, the house of a perfect stranger; but there was something in the way he said it that made Sweetie Belle arch an eyebrow. Regardless, she didn’t interrupt.

***

‘S-Eira,’ he says, holding out a hoof which the pink filly shakes hesitantly (she is wearing a beautiful necklace with the most marvellous centrepiece: a stunningly blue sapphire shaped like a heart).

‘What in Equestria are you doing way up here?’ says the orange stallion. ‘Weather like this, you could have been killed!’

‘... C-can you keep a secret?’

The stallion frowns. ‘I’m afraid we weren’t raised to keep secrets. You’re soaking wet- I’m sure Cherry Blossom wouldn’t mind if she leant one of her towels. My name’s Apple Pie by the way. You want to sit down?’

Eira sits down at the table, but something feels off: the wind batters the windows with a vengeance, there is a draft, and the candles are constantly threatening to blow out. He feels like the Book is staring at him through the fabric of his bag, evil eyes piercing darkness, glowing red-

It’s a silly thought.

... Right?

‘You know, it’s funny,’ says Apple Pie. ‘I think I’ve seen you before.’

Outside, the rain grows heavier. Eira begins to tremble. ‘I, I work in a magic shop in town,’ he whispers. ‘Or used to.’

‘Used to?’

‘I’m... I’m running away.’

As if on cue, lightning. The colt jumps.

‘... Look, l-listen,’ he says, gulping, because he can’t carry on like this. ‘I’ve, I’ve got to be h-honest with you.’

Putting the Book on the table, he proceeds to explain all about it, of the pegasus who gave it to them, of how it seemed to bring out the worst in his Taurus. When Eira finishes, he spies a new found respect in Apple Pie’s eyes. ‘You can stay the night,’ the stallion tells him. ‘But in the meantime, I want the book out of the house.’

Eira nods. This is fair enough.

But then...

Then...

In the space of a heartbeat everything goes wrong. The draft kills not only the candles but the fire as well; silver light fills the room; and there is a voice, an awful voice which comes from the Book. The colt is frozen to the spot from fear: he can only watch, horrified, as a shadow emerges from the Book, engulfing both Apple Pie and the sapphire necklace (the filly had taken off when it had become uncomfortable).

The shadow vanishes. The candles and the fireplace relight themselves, and Apple Pie is nowhere to be seen. Eira and Cherry Blossom glance at each other; neither of them need to say how very, very scared they both feel right now...

When Cherry Blossom opens the Book, the bottom falls out of Eira’s world as he sees Apple Pie and the necklace illustrated on the page, and it swiftly dawns on him that he is responsible for this, that he’s the reason the filly before him no longer has an older brother, no family, nothing. But it can’t be true, it can’t be. He... he’s a good colt! He’s nice, he’s polite, he sees the best in ponies! He’s not a monster, he’s not he’s not he’s not he’s not.

‘We, we’ll take it to Princess Celestia,’ he says desperately, resisting the urge to throw up. ‘She’ll fix it!’

But Cherry Blossom glares at him, her eyes filled with tears (the sight pierces Eira like a knife). Before he can stop her she rushes out into the storm, and he’s about to run after her-

He can’t leave without the Book.

I’ll take it to the Princess, he reassures himself. She’ll fix it, she’ll know what to do. It’ll be alright. It’ll be OK.

‘... Eira...’

Eira yelps, knocking into a chair as he looks around the room franticly. Yet he is alone, he must’ve imagined it...

... Deep down, he knows that’s not the truth...

‘Eira,’ the voice sounds again, deep and smooth, as silky as a cushion. Eira turns his head towards the Book. ‘That’s right,’ the Book says in his mind. ‘You’re cleverer than Taurus: he had a lot more trouble accepting the voice was coming from.’

‘Y-you spoke to him too? What did you tell him?’

No answer. It takes all of Eira’s willpower to remain stood up tall and not on the floor in a blubbering heap. Beads of sweat run down his face, mingling with silent, terrified tears.

‘Let, let Apple go,’ the colt says more bravely than he feels.

‘How sweet of you to keep in your thoughts.’

‘L-let him go.’

‘You are a troubled one, aren’t you? Delicious! Who would’ve thought that the quiet colt from the magic shop would ever have it in him to run away?’

‘Let him go.’

‘Hmm. Moon Glimmer. Pretty name. Pretty unicorn.’

‘Stop it,’ Eira cries. ‘Get out of my head! T-that’s private.’

He feels something enormous brush the edges of his mind; so the Book is more than merely a powerful magical object. The Book is alive.

‘I’ve always preferred foals,’ it says. ‘You all feel the world so much more intensely than grown-ups. Your heartache, I wish you could taste it, it’s simply divine; yet... there’s so much potential there as well. It seems a shame to eat you up here and now.’

A strange numbness spreads through Eira, infecting every part of his body, making his hooves shake, his head throb. For a brief second he considers running for the door; but there, the sound of the lock. Just like that, he is trapped.

He shuts his eyes.

He sees Moon Glimmer reaching out for him.

‘M-make it quick,’ the colt whispers, focusing all of his mind on his dear mother (she’s so close, he can almost touch her). The Books chuckles.

‘You think I’m going to eat you, dear boy? But you don’t eat an apple before it’s ripe: no, I’ve got something else in mind for you...’

The next thing Eira knows, he’s surround by darkness so thick he can’t see his hooves in front of his eyes. He hears Moon Glimmer as though from a great distance; she’s calling out his name

And

he’s

crying

out

hers;

he spirals through a void,

falling

falling

falling

FLUMP.

Eira groans as he wakes up in the snow. He rubs his head, feeling as though he has been asleep for days.

‘W-where am I?’

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud but how can he help himself? It’s snowing, it’s freezing. He’s not in Cherry Blossom’s house. In fact he’s not even on the mountain: it’s night-time in a strange town, and the houses seem empty aside from the one in front of him, the most peculiar one he has ever seen- a tree with windows, and the windows are lit...

Picking himself up, he trots through the snow to knock on the door.