The Filly and her Ghosts

‘A-and that’s it,’ said Eira. ‘I didn’t know where I was, but... but you were all so nice to me. I thought maybe I was dreaming, but d-deep down I knew I wasn’t, not really. Then your f-friend had the necklace and the Book... and...’

He blinked, reaching into his bag to retrieve the necklace. He ran the golden chain through his hooves, feeling the weight of the sapphire heart. ‘Cherry doesn’t have a brother,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all my fault...’

Apparently no longer caring that Sweetie and Twilight were there, he put his hooves on the table, placed his head in them and sobbed to his heart’s content, the necklace lying glittering beside him in the lantern light.

Sweetie Belle, feeling ill, did something which an hour ago would’ve been unthinkable: she climbed up on the table, sat down next to Eira and leaned against him, slipping her hooves so that she could draw him into the tightest embrace; and she didn’t bother with words because they had travelled well beyond that point. For a while, the three unicorns said nothing, simply content to listen to the sounds of the train as it spirited them through the snowy wilderness. The whistle. The roar of wind through tunnels. The wheels clacking against the tracks. Each sound brought them closer to Canterlot.

Closer to having to tell Eira the truth.

At last he said: ‘H-how am I going to sort this out?’

‘We’re gonna go straight to the Princesses, silly,’ said Sweetie Belle, letting go of him. ‘Right Twilight?’

Eira furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Princesses?’

Sweetie’s eyes widened as she realised the full meaning of what she had said (there was a reason the colt had called it Celestia’s night). She stared into those big, round eyes of his. His chest was rising up and down, and the filly could almost hear the voice that must’ve been whispering to him inside of his head, begging her to say that it was a slip of the tongue, that she had meant ‘Princess’. But for as much as Sweetie wanted the lie to transform into truth, it wasn’t how she had been raised, it wasn’t what Rarity would’ve done. She kept her mouth shut.

‘... H-how long have I been missing for?’

Eira wasn’t angry: he was scared.

Sweetie glanced at Twilight, but for once the lavender unicorn was out of ideas, and the filly knew that the look of heartbreak gracing the older unicorn’s face must’ve been a perfect mirror of her own. ‘Please tell me,’ said Eira, clutching the necklace as though it was a lifeline. ‘I’ve g-got to know. Listen, if Cherry Blossom’s all grown-up I can still... I can still give her back the necklace, it’s the least I can do.’ His voice cracked. ‘Why are you both looking at me like that?’

If he had seemed afraid back in the library, it was nothing at all to how he appeared now. ‘This isn’t going to be easy to hear,’ said Twilight, bracing herself. ‘So I’m just going to say it: it’s been-

She was cut off by the most gut-retching sound, like a hoard of dragons screeching the music of hell. Twilight gasped. Sweetie and Eira spun around: there, hanging in mid-air, was the pink satchel, and it had burst into bright, green flames which licked the roof of the carriage hungrily. The bag disintegrated leaving nothing but the Book floating above the carpet.

Except it was no longer a book.

‘Get back,’ Twilight hissed, levitating the foals out of their seats and down the aisle. Mesmerized with sheer horror, Sweetie saw the pages of the Book dissolve into a mess of ink, splattering on the floor like blood. All that was left was the black cover; that too fell, splashing in the ink where it screamed in agony, exploding in a ball of dark blue fire; and from the fire arose an appalling being. Was it a mare or a stallion? Whatever it was, it was enormous, almost reaching up to the ceiling. The monster’s fur was made of shadows. It had no cutie mark. Its eyes were pupil-less and glowed red, and it’s mane was long and flowing.

Sweetie remembered vividly Nightmare Moon in the town hall; yet whereas Nightmare Moon had projected the definite sense that she craved respect, to look into this creature’s eyes was to gaze at the darkness between stars. The filly sensed that there was a deep, relentless hunger lying behind those eyes which could never be satisfied in this or a thousand other lifetimes, emptiness of a sort she struggled to understand...

It spoke.

‘Ponies are so trusting of books, even ones they know should never be read.’

The way Eira had described the voice, the filly had imagined something deep and smooth, like some of the more charming villains in her bedtime stories. The reality was different. The sound of it went through her like nothing had ever done before, like a pony was scraping nails over a sheet of steel.

‘Get behind me,’ Twilight hissed at the foals, who were more than happy to oblige. ‘Who are you?’ she spat at the Beast.

‘I’ve given up on owning a name,’ said the Beast (Sweetie put her hooves over her ears, but it was impossible to block out that horrible voice).

‘What have you done with our friends?’

‘Your friends are gone. You’ll never see them again.’

‘... That’s not true.’

‘I never lie.’

‘How do we know that?’

‘Because you already do.’ The Beast took a step closer to Twilight. ‘You’re smart enough to know- or think you know- that the only sensible way to live in the world is to be truthful, to never hold back in telling your friends and family that you love them. Yet haven’t you ever wondered if you would still love your parents if they weren’t your family? Would the ponies you call your friends still be important if you didn’t know them?’

The Beast advanced towards Twilight. She stood her ground.

‘When you’ve existed as long as I have, you realise, Twilight Sparkle, that there is nothing special about friendship. So you tell yourself that you had a bond with your friends before you even met, but what if you had never met them at all, what would that bond have meant then? Would it still have existed? Would it have mattered? You can’t have a connection with ponies that you don’t know...’

Now the Beast was hissing right into Twilight’s ear. Sweetie was paralysed with fear for the older unicorn.

‘The only true way to live is to know that, in the end, everything leaves, nothing is important. And if nothing is important, why bother lying? That’s the answer to your question: you know I’m telling the truth because there’s no reason to do otherwise. Don’t worry about your friends. They aren’t worrying about you.’

‘Stop it,’ Twilight said, silent tears streaming down her face. ‘That’s not true. Friendship’s important, it’s worth fighting for.’

‘Why fight for something if it’s only going to end?

‘Because that makes it even more special,’ said Twilight, forcefully. ‘If we know something won’t last forever but we do it anyway, that gives it value.’

She bowed her head and charged at the Beast, her horn aglow with powerful magic; but the Beast laughed, picking her with it’s shadowy mane (the mane seemed to have a will of its own), and hurled her down the aisle where she crashed in front of a screaming Sweetie Belle. Groggily, the librarian looked up at the filly before being plucked up by the mane again, and Sweetie’s heart stopped when, as if in slow motion, the Beast opened its jaws wide, wide, wider than what ought to have been possible. Realising at the last second what was going to happen, Twilight struggled desperately, frantically, twisting, pulling, biting. Her eyes locked with the filly’s-

‘Sweetie Belle-

The Beast stuffed Twilight into its mouth and swallowed her whole. Time stood still.

That had not just happened. It can’t have.

‘TWILIGHT!’

In a moment, Sweetie was going to wake up in bed drenched in a cold sweat, and Rarity was going to be there, Rarity who would climb inside the tent, sit beside her and listen to Sweetie as she recalled the nightmare: their argument over the Manehatten silk, about the chest, the Book, Eira, Twilight, every single detail. Rarity would clutch her tight, drying her tears, and together they would sleep until the dawn broke. Sisters looked out for each other. Sisters loved each other, were always there when you needed comforting...

Pure energy seemed to surge through the Beast; purple light burst from its eyes, almost blinding Sweetie it was so bright. ‘G-give her back,’ the filly said, her voice shaking like a leaf on the wind.

‘You and Twilight never told Eira the truth, did you? At any moment in his story you could’ve told him that a hundred years have passed since he was last seen in Equestria, but, selfish little ponies, you kept it to yourselves.’

Sweetie shook her head wildly to let Eira know that it wasn’t like this, that Twilight had been right on the verge of revealing the truth. But the damage was done. The colt wore the same expression Twilight had right before she had been eaten...

With a mighty roar, the Beast lunged at them. Sweetie shut her eyes knowing that this was the end-

It didn’t matter, not if it meant that she would be reunited with Twilight, with Rarity. Love flowed through her veins, purest love which drowned her fear, helping her prepare for the last breath she would ever take...

It never came.

She opened her eyes.

Half the lanterns were blown out, making the carriage gloomy, and all that remained of the Book was the puddle of ink on the carpet, surrounded by a few charred pieces of the satchel. There was no trace of the Beast. They were very much alone.

‘Where did it go?’

‘I-it vanished,’ Eira replied, his voice scarcely loader than a sleeping mouse. ‘It was going to eat you, and, and I was going to pull you back, but then it... disappeared into thin air...’

As they stared at the puddle, the filly felt a familiar, creeping sensation in the pit of her stomach, much as she had done earlier in the bedroom with Apple Bloom; though she couldn’t see anypony else other than herself and Eira, she was sure that they weren’t the only ones in the carriage.

‘You feel it too, don’t you?’ Eira whispered. Sweetie nodded. They huddled together, two little ponies with nowhere to hide.

In her mind, Twilight was looking at her, was calling out her name-

‘Eira,’ Sweetie whispered. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t know how to.’

It was tricky to know what to make of the colt’s silence. In a way, she almost would’ve preferred it had he been shouting his guts out at her, screaming that she no right to conceal the truth, that she should’ve been honest, that she ought to have told him the moment she had realised: at least Sweetie would’ve known, then, exactly how he felt.

‘We’ve g-gotta get off the train,’ he said, his voice flat. ‘Do you think this door opens?’

The filly knew what he was thinking: being in the end carriage, the door led directly onto the tracks. She spotted a little box tucked in the corner labelled: FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY. Well, if this wasn’t an emergency than what in Equestria was? Opening it, she found bandages, plasters, a sewing kit, and a little gas lantern small enough to hold in your hooves, or maybe even hang from your horn...

‘What?’ said Sweetie, picking up the lantern with her mouth. When Eira continued to give her a funny look, she put it down again. ‘I never learnt magic, OK? I don’t know how to levitate things.’

The door handle was stiff. She pushed on it harder. ‘Help me,’ she hissed. She kicked the door and then kicked it again, hard as she could, the memory of Twilight giving her extra strength.

One last kick-

‘WHOA!’

The door swung clean open and Sweetie lost her balance. Everything felt light; there was no ground beneath her hooves, and she was tumbling into the darkness of a mighty valley: the train had been travelling over a bridge. The blackness below was impenetrable; the drop must’ve been hundreds and hundreds of feet, and she was going to fall right through the tracks...

For the second time in as many minutes, time slowed down, and Sweetie could see everything with hawk-like vision: the glow of Canterlot’s lights in the distance, the look of surprise on Eira’s face as she fell away from him. I’m going to die, she thought dully, bluntly, and with her heart pumping terrifically and her brain clouded, it was the only one that entered her head. That, and Rarity.

Rarity.

Would she mind dying if it meant she could be reunited with her sister? Love flooded through her again, but it was different this time, because before she’d imagined the Beast would eat her up in a heartbeat. Now she had a thousand foot drop to think about her love, and time was trickling by so agonizingly slowly. What if she ended up in a different place to Rarity? What if... what if her sister still hated her, blamed her for everything that had happened? If she’d left the chest alone then right now they’d be leaving the party, laughing at Pinkie Pie’s antics, waving goodbye to Twilight and the others. Perhaps Rarity would’ve been in such a good mood she would’ve forgiven Sweetie for the silk incident.

Perhaps this. Perhaps that.

Or maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe I’m supposed to die tonight.

Sweetie yelled as she had the shock of her life: she stopped falling...

Eira’s horn was glowing blue with magic- a similar colour to Rarity’s- and he had caught her! He levitated her up into the carriage, put her down gently, and then breathed heavily from the effort it had taken.

‘I think,’ he wheezed, ‘you should p-probably take up magic. Comes in handy, see?’

He tried to smile. Sweetie Belle gaped at him.

‘You... you saved my life...’

‘It, it was nothing really. Just-

She threw her hooves around him. ‘I thought you were angry at me.’

This time he really did smile. ‘Hay! G-give me some credit. I’m not going to let a friend fall to their death!’

Sweetie let go of him, the horror of her fall weighing on her mind like a mountain; without pausing to think, she kissed Eira on the cheek, catching not just the colt off-guard but also herself- her face flushed every bit as much as his.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘D-don’t mention it.’

He looked out the door and gasped. ‘Look.’

Sweetie looked: they had crossed the bridge. Thick forests of conifers rushed past them, blanketed in snow, and the ground was merely feet away from them. All they had to do was jump.

‘R-ready?’ Sweetie said. She picked up the lantern again. She was shaking, but not because of the bitingly cold wind rushing through the door...

Eira nodded, and strapped his satchel around his back. ‘At the same t-time?’

The filly nodded back. They stood beside one another, two foals who had lost everypony dear to them; but they would get them back, by Celestia they would get them back. They would find the Princess in her castle, an alicorn who possessed enough power to raise the sun and the moon into the sky,  and with her help they would solve everything...

‘Three,’ said Eira (he said it slowly, it was obvious he was dreading this as much as Sweetie was). ‘T-two. Two and a half. One...’

The train shuddered sickeningly, sending a chilling feeling oozing through Sweetie. Quickly, she glanced back at the carriage but it was still empty, they were still alone.

‘Sweetie, what is it?’

‘I, I don’t know...’

She could see the fear in his eyes. Should they jump? But maybe that’s precisely what the Beast wanted them to do. Yet at the same time the train didn’t feel safe; every time Sweetie closed her eyes, she saw Twilight.

What would Twilight have done?

What would Rarity do?

It began to snow again, but the wind was lessening, and through the door the landscape didn’t seem to be moving as fast...

The train was slowing down.

A minute later it ground to a halt. All was dark. All was silent. The foals looked at each other, unsure of what to do or what any of this meant.

‘I think we should leave,’ whispered Sweetie. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling staying here.’

Though Eira seemed too nervous to even think about opening his mouth, he nevertheless nodded and tightened up his bag. He descended down the little metal ladder that hung off the back of the train, stepping lightly onto the tracks, Sweetie following behind him (as she touched the glorious, solid earth, she promised herself that would never step hoof inside a train for the rest of her life).

‘... Oh goodness,’ she said under her breath.

‘Oh goodness’ was right, for the train hadn’t stopped at all: rather, the back carriage had been disconnected. It rested on the tracks, lonely, the snowfall piling up on it: an oddly unsettling sight.

The snowfall was growing heavier. Just visible through it were the lights of Canterlot, gleaming not so much as half a mile away...

‘... Eira? What’s up?’

The colt was studying the forest as though he had seen a ghost.

‘Eira?’

‘C-can you see it?’ he whispered, pointing at the trees. Sweetie held up the lantern in her mouth, expecting to see monsters, ghouls, spirits; but then her heart sank because she saw something far worse. Just like that, she knew exactly why the Beast had brought them here.

Though you couldn’t see it buried in the snow, the filly knew that there was an old dirt road running beside the railway line. And where the road ought to be, she made out a sign weathered with age, pointing at a little path which led into the forest. There was only one way for the path to go: up the side of the mountain...

‘Oh Celestia, don’t do it,’ the filly whispered. ‘Don’t think about it!’

‘But I’ve, I’ve got to.’

‘But you don’t,’ Sweetie pleaded. ‘Whatever that thing is, it wants you to go up there. We’re so close! Please, I just want this be over. I just-

‘Just what?’ snapped Eira. ‘What then? You’ll go back home and you’ll be with your family and everything will be alright? Well thank Celestia, it’s a happy ending for all, isn’t it?’

Maybe it was the sight of the path, or maybe it was because the Beast’s revelation had had time to sink in, but some long dormant part of Eira awakened, obliterating his stutter, making him shout at the filly. And Sweetie Belle didn’t know what to do. It was different when Rarity shouted (they were at one another’s throats so often); to see this, a shy, shy colt speak so angrily...

‘We’ll make it better,’ Sweetie whispered. ‘Celestia will-

‘Celestia can’t bring back my Moon Glimmer from the dead. She’s gone forever, and you know it.’

‘N-no, she said she’s always gonna be with you.’

‘Well she’s not. She... she left me...’

The lights of Canterlot had been swallowed up by the snowfall. Sweetie was shaking. Eira was crying.

‘I, I have to do this,’ he said. His voice had cracked. ‘I have to see the house.’

‘Wait, you can’t leave me to just-

She was ignored; Eira was already running towards the path, his horn glowing with magic to light the way. Sweetie rushed after him, ploughing through the snow.

‘Wait.’

She had thought, perhaps, the cover of the trees would shield her from the snow, and any other time they probably would’ve; except the storm was rapidly turning into a blizzard. Even with her lantern it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead of her.

If she lost him... if she strayed off the path and didn’t notice...

Sweetie was seized with sheer terror.

‘WAAAIT! WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!’

But the only reply came from the howling wind freezing her to the bone, the snow blowing into her eyes, and her heart telling her that she had to carry on, don’t give up, don’t give up dear little Sweetie Belle.

The wind intensified. She wondered if she had risen above the treeline, was walking exposed on the mountain.

She couldn’t see the glow of Eira’s horn.

... She was lost.