Truthseeker

by RB_

Chapters

Rude Awakenings
Screaming and Hybrids
Loose Ends
Dreams of Truth
Symphony of Howls 1
Symphony of Howls 2
Symphony of Howls 3
Chronoconfusion 1
Chronoconfusion 2
Her Mother's Daughter 1 (Rewrite)
Her Mother's Daughter 2 (Rewrite)
Her Mother's Daughter 3 (rewrite)
Tourists From Beyond
Pipe (Fever) Dreams
An Owl in Canterlot 1
An Owl in Canterlot 2
An Owl in Canterlot 3
An Owl in Canterlot 4
Whitechapel Vigilance 1
Origins: The Bat
Whitechapel Vigilance 2
Whitechapel Vigilance 3
Whitechapel Vigilance 4
Whitechapel Vigilance 5
Whitechapel Vigilance 6
Whitechapel Vigilance 7
Waning Gibbous
In Search of Truth and Justice 1
In Search of Truth and Justice 2
In Search of Truth and Justice 3
Origins: The Wolf
In Search of Truth and Justice 4
In Search of Truth and Justice 5
Reports Greatly Exaggerated
Celestial Checkers
Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
Recovery
What Little we Know
Downtime 1
Downtime 2
A Daring Interlude
Waxing Crescent
Larceny on the Graveyard Shift 1
Larceny on the Graveyard Shift 2
Larceny on the Graveyard Shift 3
Larceny on the Graveyard Shift 4
Downtime 3
Origins: The Kid
Uptime
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear 1
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear 2
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear 3
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear 4
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear 5
Origins: The Mailmare
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear 6
Endgame 1
Endgame 2
Origins: The Mare Who Spat in Death's Eye
Endgame 3
The Mundane World
Origins: The Lyrist and the Candymaker
The Cosmos Eccentric
Epilogue: Truthseeker
Symphony of Howls Epilogue

Rude Awakenings

“Do you desire the Truth, young one?”

A moment’s consideration. “…Yes.”

“Then take it.”

A mint-green hoof reaches out into the light.

--ooo000ooo--

Lyra Heartstrings’ day started off, as many mornings did in Ponyville, with a crash. Unusually, this particular morning’s rude awakening was not the result of an attacking beast, invading force, or rampaging pink party mare. The source of the crash was, in fact, rather mundane: Lyra’s skull impacting the floor.

Wincing, she extracted herself from the tangle of bedsheets wrapped around her back half, and pulled herself to her hooves.

A voice called out from the floor below. “Lyra? Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, Bon Bon! Just fell out of bed!”

After fixing the bed and running a brush through her disheveled mane, Lyra trotted down the stairs to the first floor of her home. The rich smells of chocolate and sugar filled the lower floor, Ponyville’s premier confectioner hard at work producing her wares for the day.

Lyra followed her nose into the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“Morning! You’re up early. Did you sleep okay?” Bon Bon replied with a smile. Indeed, Lyra’s morning routine usually began embarrassingly close to noon, and often required Bon Bon’s intervention in order to get started at all. The candy mare herself, on the other hoof, rose shortly after the sun (a habit that was only partially related to the demands of her occupation).

“I feel great, actually. Why?” It was true: much to Lyra’s surprise, she felt more energized than she normally would have, even after having had her morning coffee.

“Really? You were thrashing around all night. I had to go sleep on the sofa.”

“Oh horseapples, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry, the sofa folds out, remember? It was fine.” Bon Bon’s face took on a sly look. “Although, if you want to make it up to me, we’re almost out of milk.”

Lyra giggled. “Consider it done!”

The unicorn trotted out the door to the storefront. After a moment, she poked her head back in. “By the way, your emergency briefcase is poking out of your tail.”

Lyra exited the front entrance of Bon Bon’s Bonbons and into Ponyville proper. Despite the early hour (for her, at least), most of the town’s residents were already up and going about their business. Pegasi worked above, pulling clouds out of storage and carefully placing them to accent the clear, blue sky. On the ground, earth ponies and unicorns tended their gardens or pulled carts filled with produce towards the town market. A grey mailmare made her rounds, greeting each pony as she passed with a smile. A group of giggling schoolfillies ran towards the schoolhouse.

You didn't get scenes like this back in Canterlot, Lyra thought to herself.

A flash of stripes on blue coat from the middle of the group of fillies caught her attention. Funny, I didn’t know we had any zonies in Ponyville. She must be new in town.

The mint mare began her walk to the market, following the cart-laden ponies at a leisurely trot. As the mailmare passed, Lyra called out a greeting.

“Good morning, Ditzy!”

Glancing over at the mare, Ditzy Doo’s smile turned into a look of surprise, and then a small frown. The grey pegasus took a step forward, tripped, and fell— directly into the unicorn, knocking her sideways. “Ooph!”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry Lyra! Are you okay?”

She got up with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. It was just an accident, right?” Lyra had been on the receiving end of the pegasus’ famed clumsiness before; she knew not to take it personally.

"Yeah..."

As she said this, however, an odd feeling came over Lyra, like somepony had just walked over her grave; it sent a shiver down her spine. At the same time, she noted that Ditzy’s eyes had shifted downwards and to the right slightly. It was probably nothing, perhaps just a result of the walleyed mare’s condition, but even so…

Lyra brushed these thoughts aside.

“Even so, I feel bad. Here, have a muffin.” Reaching into her saddlebags, Ditzy pulled out a recently baked blueberry muffin. Which, coincidentally, was Lyra’s favorite. And she had learned never to pass up free food.

Thanking Ditzy for the muffin, Lyra returned to the task at hoof, setting off once again for the market.

The Ponyville market was bustling, as it normally was. Most of the stalls were set up at this point, with most of the stragglers just finishing putting out their goods. As it was such a nice day, Lyra elected to walk through the market, rather than just make a beeline for Sweet Apple Acres’ stall. She stopped to examine a particularly well-stocked fruit stall.

“Oh, hey Lyra!” said a familiar voice from behind the unicorn. Lyra turned around to greet her friend.

“Hey Sea Swirl,” Lyra began. But after a moment, the unicorn’s image flashed, and then began to distort. Her rose-colored eyes faded, revealing a pair of pupil-less blue orbs. Her mulberry coat disappeared, a smooth black carapace taking its place. Thin, translucent wings appeared, holes bored their way through black legs, and long fangs jutted out of a smiling mouth.

Lyra’s heart began thudding in her chest, eyes growing wide, pupils shrinking. The mare was aware of none of this, however. She was back in Canterlot castle, being summoned to a private room by a pink alicorn. Being asked if she wanted to be one of the Princess’ bridesmaids. Feeling her mind being twisted and bent by magic so that she could only say yes. Smiling happily as the last of her self-control was taken away. Guarding the entrance to the crystal caverns as the queen, her queen, had ordered her to.

The creature before her, in a buzzing and decidedly insect-like voice, asked her if she was alright. Lyra responded in the usual fashion: high pitched screaming, tears, and running away, leaving behind several startled passersby and one very confused, and slightly panicked, changeling-in-disguise.

Lyra galloped through the market, mares and stallions leaping to get out of the screaming mare’s path. After a short while, the unicorn’s rational mind started to reclaim order over her jumbled and chaotic thoughts. The castle. I have to warn Princess Twilight! She’ll know what to do!

She could see the gleaming crystal palace off in the distance, its usually distracting size and shine now a beacon of hope. All she had to do was reach its doors before the changeling in the market alerted its comrades and the invasion began. Or a strike force captured her and took her away to be replaced. Or worse.

Not thinking about that now.

Lyra kept her eyes fixed to the castle, almost as if she were afraid it would disappear if she looked away. As such, she failed to see the mare standing in the middle of the road, forelegs outstretched ready to intercept her, until it was too late.

Cold fear gripped Lyra’s heart. She was too slow. They had gotten her. She struggled, but fuzzy grey legs held her in a tight bear hug.

“Lyra. Lyra. Calm down,” her captor said in a recognizable Trottingham accent. “Breathe.”

She continued her panicked screaming. This resulted in a grey foreleg being placed to cover her mouth.

“Lyra, I know you’re frightened, but you have to stop panicking and calm down.” Her captor began dragging her backwards towards a nearby building. Further struggles continuing to be futile, Lyra gave up, and resigned herself to her fate.

Lyra recognized the building’s interior; she came here fairly regularly, and the resident party pony was one of Bon Bon’s best customers. Several of the bakery/cafe's patrons looked at her with confusion and concern. And speaking of party ponies…

“Pssst! Octy! Over here!” a high-pitched voice stage-whispered.

Seeing that Pinkie Pie was behind the strange sight before them, the patrons shrugged and went back to their food, wisely deciding not to get involved. Lyra’s crushed hope at a rescue was swiftly knocked aside by the realization that the changelings had clearly gotten to Pinkie Pie. If they were able to get one of the elements, she reasoned, then what’s to say they haven’t all been replaced? They could have even gotten to the Princess! Chrysalis was able to replace Cadence after all, and Twilight doesn’t even have guards in her castle! It was hopeless even from the beginning!

Lyra was jolted back to reality as she fell onto the floor of a back room of Sugarcube Corner. The unicorn looked at her captor.

Octavia winced. “Sorry about that.”

Octavia’s stronger than she looks, Lyra noted. Her brain used this as further evidence that this wasn’t actually the famed cellist. “Is this the part where you cocoon me?”

The grey mare politely stifled a laugh, while a second set of giggles erupted behind her. “Of course not, silly! What do you think we are, changelings?”

“…Yes?” Lyra started to turn her head to look at Pinkie, but was distracted by a soft click as Octavia locked the door. Her reply brought more laughter. “W-well, how do I know you aren’t!? Why else would you have snatched me off the street and locked me in a room like this, if it wasn’t to stop me from telling everypony about the invasion?!”

Octavia sighed. “Lyra, we are most assuredly not changelings, and there is no invasion.”

“Don’t lie to me! You have agents right here in Ponyville! I know ‘Sea Swirl’ is a changeling!”

“Yes, she is. A fact that I’m quite sure she and her husband would very much prefer you kept to yourself.”

“AHA! You admit it! Where’s the real-“

“She is the ‘real’ Sea Swirl. She’s always been a changeling.”

This shook Lyra out of her triumph. “...What?”

“Sea Swirl has always been a changeling. She ran away from her hive and moved here eight years ago.”

“Y-you could be lying! How do I know you two aren’t changelings too, trying to trick me?”

Pinkie, who had been uncharacteristically silent up until this point, spoke up. “Six years ago, you snuck in to Diamond Tiara’s cute-ceañera so you could eat at the buffet.”

“Wait, really?” Octavia asked incredulously.

“Never pass up an opportunity for free food. You next.”

“We met shortly after I moved to Ponyville. Our shared talents in music got us talking. You admitted to not being able to read music, and I offered to tutor you. An offer which still stands, by the way.”

Lyra nodded, satisfied. “I believe you.”

“Alrighty then! Now that that little mix-up has been thoroughly mixed-down, I think it’s time we got into the real reason we brought you here.”

“And that would be?” Lyra said, turning towards Pinkie.

“Figuring out how you were able to see through Sea Swirl’s disguise in the first place, silly!” the horrible abomination of a thousand nightmares replied in a jovial tone.

Screaming and Hybrids

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,”

“I probably should have seen this coming,” spoke the third mouth of the pink mockery of nature.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,”

“But nothing’s ever broken my glamour before,” Continued the seventh mouth of the vile spawn of nightmares.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,”

“So I honestly didn’t even consider it!”

A wincing Octavia, ears folded down and hooves clamped over them, shouted, “Would you please be so kind as to— ngh— quiet her!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—” A pair of leathery pink ‘hooves’ pushed the green mare’s jaw closed. “MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM—”*smack!*

“Thanks, Octy!”

Lyra blinked, eyes returning to normal size. She rubbed her cheek where the grey mare had slapped her. “That hurt.”

“Not nearly as much as your screaming did.”

“Okay. So,” Lyra said, pointedly looking away from the pink mass of flesh until she could gather her wits. “First of all… What are you?”

“One-half eldrony, on my mom’s side.” Anticipating her next question, Pinkie continued. “Hybrid child of an earth pony and an eldritch abomination. Which is like a big, super-smart, super-powerful, super-funny-looking, usually tentacle-y monster that drives you crazy if you look at it long enough.”

“If it drives you crazy, then how…?”

The rest of the villagers either ran off in fear or fell to the ground in gibbering, frothing madness. Chalcedony Quartz, however, took a determined step forwards. The Choosing Stone had revealed this creature to be his soulmate, and by the Stone he was going to make. It. Work.

“Tradition and stubbornness. It worked out well in the end.”

“Are you safe to look at?”

“Yep! The whole making-no-sense-in-Euclidean-geometry thing didn’t get passed down beyond my mama!”

Bracing herself, Lyra looked towards Pinkie.

She was vaguely equine-shaped: four legs, one head, two ears, a mane and tail, but that was as far as the comparison could go. Her ‘mane’ was made not of hairs but of long and slightly moving tendrils, as was her tail. The eyes were in the right place, but they were small and far too many, arranged like a splash of seafoam across her face. A line of eight gaping (and grinning) mouths ringed with small feelers began at the creature’s muzzle and worked their way down her neck. Smooth, pink, leathery skin covered her in place of a soft coat of fur. A pair of small, vestigial looking bat- no, thestral wings sprouted from her back, and her hooves were cloven into three parts, the front ends spread apart like claws.

At least the familiar three-balloon mark on her flank confirmed that this was still Pinkie Pie.

Lyra forced down her base instincts. “That’s… going to take some getting used to.”

“Is it really so bad?” Octavia asked, curious.

“Yeah. It… yeah. It is.” Lyra winced. “No offense! I mean—”

“None taken, I understand.”

Relieved, Lyra turned to the grey mare. “So I’m guessing that question means you can’t see, uh… this.”

“Indeed. All I see is a perfectly normal looking earth pony.”

“Then why-“

“That’s what we want to find out!” the pink pony— and Lyra had to remind herself that Pinkie was still a pony, despite her appearance— declared. “You were able to pierce an eldritch glamour, and see through the disguise of a member of one of the most convincing shapeshifting races on Equis! And you did it without even meaning to!

“Now, there aren’t many things it could be.” Pinkie continued. “For one thing, those two are like, complete opposites of each other, magic-wise, so it must be something with reaaaaaaally broad effects. Which kind of narrows it down to either chaos magic or a conceptual blessing. Have you had any run-ins with either Discord or a propeller beanie-wearing pink and purple earth pony in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then it’s probably a blessing. Had any weird dreams recently? Particularly ones revolving around some abstract concept like Trust or Justice?”

Lyra thought back to that morning. “…Something about truth, I think?”

“Capital ‘T’. But yeah, that would do it. Congratulations, Lyra! You’re officially an agent of a middle-tier deity now!”

Confetti rained from the ceiling.

“…What?”

Lyra sipped at a strawberry milkshake. It was a few hours later, and she was sitting on her favorite park bench, half-watching the denizens of Ponyville as her mind went over what had transpired earlier in the day.

Following the revelation that she was apparently now the champion of a god, Pinkie had given her a few ideas of what to expect.

“A conceptual blessing does exactly what it says on the tin: it gives you an ability based around the relevant deity’s relevant concept. Seeing as you were most likely blessed by a deity of Truth, with a capital ‘T’, I’m guessing you can ‘see’ through deception!” she had said with a giggle.

Deities liked wordplay, apparently. Oh, and she should be expecting to meet the aforementioned deity in her dreams sometime within the next week. That was something worth remembering.

Returning home had been taxing, too. Not only had she been gone for way longer than she was supposed to, she had also forgotten to get the milk.

This wasn’t an issue, however; someone had apparently left a fresh carton in their mailbox. No, Bon Bon had been concerned about her briefcase. Which was apparently enchanted with a military-grade perception filter which, according to the candymare, should have made it unnoticeable.

“I’ve been getting a lot of that today.” had been Lyra’s response.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell her marefriend about this, but she did know that she was going to. Soon. She just needed to come up with some way to explain it without bringing up Pinkie Pie, who had made her Pinkie Swear not to reveal her true nature, or Sea Swirl, who Lyra had decided to give the benefit of the doubt.

Actually, I should probably apologize to Sea Swirl for earlier. And let her know that I know her secret.

Which would require a second set of explanations.

Grahhhhhhh…

Lyra was shaken out of her internal frustration by the approach of a group of schoolfillies. More specifically, by the blue unicorn filly with the white mane and the stripes.

Lyra had never met a zony before; zebras themselves weren’t very common in Equestria, and their hybrid offspring with ponies were an even greater rarity. And Lyra’s experience with zebras was pretty much limited to Zecora, so her sample size was, admittedly, very small.

But those didn’t look like zebra stripes to her.

Zecora’s stripes ringed her legs, and came down fairly straight from her back. This filly’s markings wrapped around her like snakes or vines, weaving over and under each other in a complex pattern. Emanating from a point on the filly’s back, the lines spread out across the entirety of her coat before converging into a spiral pattern which wreathed her cutiemark, a ringing hoofbell. Other lines led into the filly’s eyes, and more spiraled down her legs.

It kind of reminded Lyra of some of the tattoos she had seen on that one visit to Manehatten.

Lyra held her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them. Sure enough, the markings were initially invisible, fading into view a split second later.

Huh.

Lyra took another slurp of her milkshake, deciding to ignore it; she'd had enough weirdness for one day. Besides, whatever the deal was with those stripes, it probably wasn’t worth having to explain how she could see them.

Loose Ends

Shaking the last dregs of sleep from her mind, Lyra dragged herself out of bed and walked over to her dresser. It had been three days since she had been given the gift of the gods, and life had returned to, admittedly relative, normalcy.

Her meeting with Sea Swirl had gone well. Octavia had tagged along, and the grey mare’s calm presence had helped avert another full-blown panic attack. The changeling and her family had been very relieved to learn that they weren’t going to be run out of town.

Explaining things to Bon Bon had gone about the same. Lyra had admitted to the nature of her newfound ability, but had adamantly refused to explain why the town was awash with gossip about her fleeing for her life through the market, much to the confectioner’s annoyance. Still, the ex-special agent knew the importance of secrets, and had let the subject drop. Lyra hated keeping things from Bon Bon, but these weren’t her secrets to tell.

And she was still waiting on that visit from her patron deity. She had questions that needed asking.

But apart from that, life had been rather mundane, even by non-Ponyville standards. It turned out that, besides Sea Swirl, Pinkie Pie, and that strange filly, nopony else was anything or anyone other than what they claimed to be. And there had been no monster attacks, attempted takeovers, or disasters for a few weeks now.

Honestly, Lyra was getting a little restless. She had the feeling that some large-scale catastrophe had to be on the horizon.

The small explosion of confetti behind her still caught her off guard.

Picking herself up off the floor, Lyra examined the bright pink envelope that had seemingly materialized out of thin air onto her bed. The color, and its sudden appearance, left Lyra with no doubts about the identity of the sender. Inside was a short message asking her to come over to Sugarcube Corner.

A nervous-looking Pinkie Pie was waiting outside the bakery when Lyra arrived, along with Ditzy Doo. As Lyra trotted over, Ditzy stared at her for a moment, whispered something into Pinkie’s ear, and flew off. Whatever Ditzy had said immediately cheered the eldritch pony up, her worried look changing into several wide smiles.

“Hey Lyra! Come on in!”

Pinkie led the Lyra into the same back room they had been in previously, now fitted with a small table and chairs. A pair of steaming mugs of what smelled like hot chocolate were set on the table. Pinkie locked the door, then placed her hoof on it, whispering a few odd words that Lyra couldn’t quite make out. Satisfied, she gestured to the table, and the two sat.

Pinkie spoke first. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad,” the green mare replied, and took a sip of her cocoa. Sweetened to perfection. “I’ve mostly gotten used to the whole Truth thing. Being able to tell when ponies are lying is useful. It’s saved me a few bits in the market.”

“That’s good.”

The two took long drinks from their mugs.

“So was there a reason you called me out here? I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate you looking out for me, but…”

Pinkie sighed. “Lyra Heartstrings, I’m going to make you an offer. I want you to know that you are under no obligation to accept this offer. Neither I, nor anypony else, will think any less of you if you say no. Do you understand?”

The sudden change in demeanor caught Lyra off guard; she had never heard Pinkie sound so serious before. “…Alright. What is it?” she cautiously replied.

“Equestria isn’t a safe place,” Pinkie began. “There are things in this world that could do great harm to us ponies. Dangerous things. Things you wouldn’t see in your deepest nightmares. Things that would keep even the most secure of ponies awake at night. If they knew about them.

“The royal guard isn’t well equipped or experienced enough to deal with these threats. The royal mages don’t have the knowledge to combat these threats. The Wonderbolts don’t have the expertise necessary to keep the populace safe from these threats.

She stood up. “And so it falls on us to keep Equestria safe.”

“Us?” Lyra asked.

“Us. Ponies like you and me, who have the unique gifts and talents to deal with these dangers. I am a member of a secret underground network of ponies, and other creatures, who work in secret to protect Equestria. And I’d like to ask you to join us.”

“Why would you want me?”

“Well, to be honest…” Pinkie said sheepishly, breaking character, “The nearest pony who’s any good at passively detecting shapeshifters lives in Vanhoover, and he’s too paranoid to travel. The best we can do around here is Octy’s nose, and that’s only useful if they untransform. Which is how we found out about Sea Swirl.”

Octavia’s… nose? “Wait, so Octavia is—”

“Ap-ap-ap! I’m not telling you who’s in unless you are!” her eyes widened. “Unless the curiosity would influence your decision! Oh, I’m not very good at this…”

“So… what sort of things would I be doing? I don’t think I’d be any good in a fight.” That’s more Bon Bon’s thing, Lyra added mentally.

“No need to worry about that; we’ve already got a couple of heavy hitters in Ponyville, and we can always call more in if we needed to. You’d mostly just be making sure everypony in town is who they say they are, and maybe helping out in case anypony else was dealing with shapeshifters, glamour-wearers, or anything else that you can see through.”

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief.

“And if you ever did want to learn to fight, I’m sure I could get Fle— I mean, I’m sure I could get somepony to give you a few pointers.” Pinkie turned back to the green mare. “Any other questions? Would you like some time to think? There’s no rush.”

Lyra shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

Pinkie blinked, surprised. “Really? Just like that? Are you sure you don’t need even a few minutes to think?”

“I’m sure.”

“Wow. I know Ditzy said not to worry, but I wasn’t expecting…” Pinkie muttered. “A-hem. In that case,” she said, slipping back into her serious demeanor. She was, however, unable to hide the huge smiles that had erupted across her features.

“Welcome to the Vigilant Owl, Truthseeker.”

Dreams of Truth

“Hello child.”

Lyra opened her eyes. She was surrounded with white, apparently sitting in an endless expanse of nothing. Before her sat a large stallion who… bore a striking resemblance to Big Macintosh, actually, sharing the stallion’s coat and mane colors, as well as his size. If it weren’t for the longer hair, the three long spiraling horns, and the four extra legs, the two would have been indistinguishable.

“Why?”

“I am Apporoth, Deity of- What did you say?” Clearly, this was not the question he had been expecting.

“Why?”

“Why what, young one?”

“Why did you bless me?”

“Why did I deliver unto you my blessing? I did so because I sensed that you had a strong desire for the Truth.”

“But why me, specifically? Surely I’m not the only one to want to know the Truth, and there must be other ponies who deserve it more than me. Applejack, for instance; she’s the living embodiment of Honesty! Why me and not her?”

“Honesty is, indeed, a wonderful and powerful thing. But it is not Truth.” Seeing his champion’s confused expression, he continued. “Honesty is the revealing of one’s self, to lay one’s self open to others to allow for Harmony.

“But Truth is a cold, indifferent thing. It is knowledge, not of oneself, but of all things. Truth can be Honesty, yes, but it can also be Exposure. It can do great good, and it can do great harm.

“But without Truth, all would be lost, because a stable future cannot be built on lies. And it was this thought that I found reflected in you.

“Tell me, have you never felt that you would have been better off if the secrets of the world were laid bare to you? Most would not truly desire such a thing.”

Images flashed through Lyra’s mind. A briefcase. A pair of sunglasses and a grappling hook. Bon Bon. Sweetie Drops. Caverns of crystal. A pink alicorn. A queen.

“I see you have found your answer.”

Symphony of Howls 1

“Lyra! There you are!”

Lyra turned to face the speaker.

“Hey, Octavia! I’m guessing you’re the pony I’m supposed to be waiting for?”

Pinkie’s message had simply asked her to wait for somepony on the edge of town by the path into the Everfree Forest. How said message had gotten into her box of breakfast oats was something that Lyra had chosen to ignore.

“Indeed. How have you been?”

“Not bad. How about you?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“So, what’s going on?”

Octavia gave a confused look. “Didn’t Pinkie tell you?” The green mare shook her head. “Well, Pinkie thought it would be a good idea to have you shadow each of the local Owls, so you could get to know us, and the types of things we specialize in. And, as I had a bit of work to do today, Pinkie sent you here.”

Lyra nodded. “That makes sense. What are we doing, then?”

“I’ll tell you on the way. Oh, but before we go, Pinkie wanted us to do this by the book, which means we need to introduce ourselves. Pinkie did remember to tell you about that, right?” Seeing Lyra’s confirmation, Octavia gestured to her to begin.

“The glade is dark and full of shade.”

“The owl stands, ever vigilant. Octavia Melody, Howling Symphonist.”

“Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker.”

Satisfied, Octavia began walking down the dirt path towards the forest, and Lyra followed. “Truthseeker, that’s not bad. Pinkie did a good job on that one.”

“Well, yours is pretty cool too.”

“Really? I’ve always found it to be a bit… hmmm… overdramatic.”

“So whyHowling Symphonist?”

Octavia chuckled. “You’ll find out when we get to the forest.”

“So, we are going into the Everfree?”

“Indeed.”

“…The wild forest? The one packed with mare-munching monsters and malicious magical plants?” The grey mare nodded. “And we’re going in… completely unarmed?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Octavia replied. Lyra froze, completely caught off guard by the mare’s casual response, and after a moment had to rush ahead to catch up.

I guess if she says it’s fine, then it’s fine, Lyra thought to herself. Besides, this is what you signed up for, isn’t it?

“What are we going to be doing in the Everfree?”

“I was out in the forest last night for a run, and I noticed that a lot of the animals were acting strange, as if something had frightened them. I brought this up with Zecora, and she agreed. You and I are going to investigate, and see if we can’t figure out what’s got them so worked up.”

Any further questions about their mission, or about Octavia’s running habits, were silenced as the two passed through the entrance into the forest. She turned to Lyra. "Are you absolutely certain you’re ready for this?”

Lyra swallowed nervously. “Yeah.”

“Alright then.” Octavia’s face took on a sly smile. “Now, you were wondering where the Howling part came from?”

All of a sudden, Octavia’s features began to change. Her muzzle elongated and widened into something more similar to a snout. Her ears became pointed, and her coat grew thicker. Her legs thinned and bent, hooves splitting apart into toes, no, paws, with sharp claws extending from the ends.

Octavia looked down, now a head taller than her companion. Her mouth opened, revealing sharp teeth and a long, flat tongue. “Well there you have it.”

“You’re a werewolf!” Lyra shouted in shock.

“Indeed, although personally I prefer lycanequine.”

“But I thought—“

“That those were just old mare’s tales?” Octavia shook her head. “I’d get out of the habit of saying that. Otherwise, you’ll be saying it a lot. Come along.”

The two began their trek into the forest, Octavia leading the way, sniffing at the air every so often.

“So, how does the whole werewolf thing work, exactly?” Lyra asked. “I mean, the legends say you only transform on the night of the full moon, but it’s the middle of the day.”

Octavia bent down to examine a set of tracks. “As with most legends, they’re half right. We are forced to fully transform on the night of the full moon; we also go feral and lose control of ourselves during that time. But we can shift the rest of the time as well, and keep control.” Shaking her head, she led Lyra in a new direction. “Oh, and what you’re seeing right now is a partial shift. I’m currently holding the transformation about halfway between pony and wolf. It makes conversation easier.”

“So what do you do, chain yourself up every full moon?”

“No, that’s a recipe for disaster; a confined lycan is an angry lycan. I go into the Everfree. Plenty of room to run around in, plenty of prey to hunt, everything a feral lycanequine needs to keep itself occupied until morning. It’s the main reason I moved to Ponyville.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not at all! I’ve been doing this for years, and my lycan form has never tried to leave the forest. And even if I did, Vinyl keeps watch when I go out, and the rest of the Owls know to be on their guard. There’s absolutely no danger to the town.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lyra started, “but I was more concerned for you.”

Octavia stopped and looked at her companion. “Lyra, have you ever seen a timberwolf?”

“I’ve seen pictures, why?”

“My fully shifted form is bigger. And twice as strong.”

“Oh.”

The two continued into the forest.

Symphony of Howls 2

The two had been traversing the forest for several hours when Octavia abruptly stopped. The werewolf began taking long pulls of air into her nostrils, a look of disgust crossing her features.

“Smell something?” Lyra asked.

“Yes, and it’s dreadful. Not unlike a combination of twelve-day old rotten meat and equally aged manure. This way.”

Following her nose, Octavia led the duo through the forest. It wasn’t long before Lyra herself could detect the foul stench that lingered in the air. Soon after, the two came across the first signs of their quarry.

“What on Equis?”

“Luna’s moon…”

It was as if Death herself had gone for a stroll. A path like a gaping wound had been cut through the forest, dead plants and the rotting corpses of animals littering the ground. All of the surrounding trees were bare and lifeless. Clouds of flies danced across the ruptured remains of a boar. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air.

Lyra fought the urge to vomit and lost. Octavia bared her teeth, her wolfish features conveying well her barely restrained anger. Taking a deep breath, the werewolf attempted to calm herself before investigating the scene.

Wiping the last of her breakfast off her muzzle, Lyra followed. “What— urp— what could have done this?”

“Something large, quadrupedal with a very unsteady gait, and most likely reptilian,” Octavia replied, examining a set of four-toed tracks, before walking over to some of the better-preserved corpses. “The only inflicted wounds on these animals are small bites, not enough to kill. Decay did the rest; even the scavengers are avoiding this place.”

“Some kind of poison, maybe?”

“Most likely not. Venomous bites wouldn’t kill the trees, and a toxic cloud wouldn’t leave bites.” Glancing at one of the trees, Octavia added, “Although the trees have also been bitten. Odd. Well, only one thing to do now: follow.”

The two had been following the putrid trail for some time when Octavia abruptly stopped, lupine ears twitching.

“I can hear it up ahead. Keep quiet.”

Like a predator stalking prey, the werewolf crept forward, Lyra following as quietly as she could. Soon enough, the two spotted their quarry.

It was about the size of a hippopotamus. The beast’s skin was scaled and hung loose off of its frame, dragging on the ground as the creature shambled forward on malformed and misshapen legs. Long, intestine-like tendrils extended from slits in the monster’s back and sides; the two watched as one lashed out and speared a fleeing rabbit. The poor lagomorph fought as it was lifted into the air, its struggles becoming weaker and weaker until it finally hung still. Finished, the tendril flung the lifeless rabbit away like a foal would a candy wrapper, before plunging into one of the nearby trees.

“First lesson,” Octavia all but spat. “Before engaging, always attempt to make contact. You never know what could be sapient.” Pulling off her signature bowtie, the mare walked forwards. “Oi! You there!”

The creature stopped and turned to face her, revealing a face with two vacant eyes and no lower jaw. “RKKKK-SHAAA!” it cried as it charged her.

“Exactly what I wanted to hear!” she cried in response. Octavia leapt out of the far less agile creature’s path, then brought her powerful hind legs to bear and slammed them into the beast’s torso, knocking it several meters to the side.

“You come into MY home.” As she spoke, her voice became deeper and raspier, and she began to grow.

“You invade MY territory.” Her legs grew thicker as her mane shrank. Her already long coat turned into full-on fur.

“You desecrate MY lands, drain MY prey, wound MY forest.” The last of her equine features disappeared, the wolf released.

“And now you pay the PRICE!” the wolf snarled, and leapt upon the still recovering monster, massive jaws open wide. Tendrils raced towards her, but she intercepted them with her sharp claws, reducing them to ribbons. Now upon the beast, she went for its jugular, sinking her fangs into its throat. The remaining tendrils impacted her hide, plunging in, but she ignored them, focusing on keeping her jaws locked tight around her prey. Within a few moments, it was over. Triumphant, the wolf stood over its kill, raised its head to the skies, and howled in victory.

The massive beast then coughed politely, shifted back to her partial form, and walked over to a wide-eyed and slack-jawed Lyra. “Are you alright?” Octavia asked.

The sun was low in the evening sky when the two mares exited the forest. “Well, that took a bit longer than expected. Say, would you like to come over for dinner? I’m sure Vinyl would love a chance to show off her cooking.”

“I’d hate to impose, but if you’re offering…”

“It’s no problem at all.”

After a few moments, Lyra asked, “Would it be alright if I asked Bon Bon to join us?”

Octavia flinched. “Actually, I’m afraid not.”

This gave Lyra pause. “Why? Is this an Owl thing, or…?”

“No, it’s… does the name ‘Sweetie Drops’ mean anything to you?”

“Wait, you know about that!? But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, lycans are still considered monsters, and with her previous line of work..."

Lyra's eyes widened. “Oh… OH!”

“It’s just that, retired or not, I don’t think either Vinyl or I would feel comfortable…”

“Yeah, no, I, uh… I get it. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Symphony of Howls 3

Lyra and Octavia soon arrived at the disjointed home of the two musicians. Opening the door, Octavia called out to her roommate. “Vinyl, I’m back! And I’ve brought a guest!” The aforementioned alabaster unicorn poked her head out from the kitchen, then trotted over. “This is Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lyra said amicably, not expecting a response. The DJ’s mute nature was common knowledge in Ponyville.

‘Sup. Name’s Vinyl Scratch, a raspy voice announced in her head.

“What!? How did you do that?”

Vinyl tapped the side of her head with a hoof. Telepathic communication. Little trick I picked up a while back, and no, I can’t hear your thoughts. By the way, your mental defenses are paper thin. You’ll want to work on that. She turned to Octavia. So, what was it today?

“A life-draining shambling horror, most likely a product of the Haysead Swamps that snuck under Silver Shot’s radar.”

That was an unfamiliar name. “Silver Shot?”

He’s an Owl, works down south. Nicest lich you’ll ever meet. Turning her attention back to Octavia, she grinned. So, how long?

“…Forty seconds or so,” she replied, blushing slightly.

Vinyl whistled, eyebrows raising from behind her sunglasses.

“Well it’s not like it was much of a challenge, the thing barely had working limbs!”

Still awesome. Anyway, I’ve got salmon going in the oven. Lyra, I’m guessing you’ll be wanting the vegetarian option?

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, really. “Yes please, whatever you’re having would be fine. Unless you’re also a werewolf.”

This got a chuckle out of both of her hosts. I’m not, but I don’t think you’d like what I’m having. I’ll whip you up a salad. Drink?

“Just water, thanks.”

You got it. And with that, Vinyl went back to the kitchen.

“So, is Vinyl an Owl too, then?” Lyra asked her host.

“No, but she works with us occasionally. She has a lot of friends in the supernatural underworld.”

“Equestria has a supernatural underworld?”

Octavia chuckled. “Of course! Lycanequines aren’t the only supposedly mythical creatures hiding in plain sight. Although the term ‘underworld’ is a little misleading; we’re actually very civil. We even have our own holidays.”

A glass of water floated out from the kitchen; Lyra grabbed it in her own magic and took a sip. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well, in lycan culture we have the Longest Night’s Hunt. We get together in packs on the Winter Solstice and go hunting in our fully shifted forms, letting our instincts take over. It’s quite thrilling!”

Something about the wild glint in the grey mare’s eye unsettled Lyra on an instinctual level. “You said Vinyl had a lot of friends in the underworld. Are nightclubs popular with vampires or something?”

This earned a snort from the usually refined mare. “Actually—“

Soup’s on, everypony! Well, there’s no soup, but you know what I mean. Onward to the dining room!

Lyra followed her hosts into the dining room; as it was located to the left of the front door, it was decorated in tasteful browns and greens, with a distinctly traditional musical theme. This was in complete contrast to the hallway they had emerged from, which lay to the right of the door and was thus awash with blues and purples.

“Okay, I have to ask: why did you decide to decorate like this?”

Tavi and I aren’t great at compromising, Vinyl explained as she laid out the dishes. We each like our own style, and we usually try to mix them together. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work all that well for interior decorating.

“In the end, it was just easier this way,” Octavia finished, taking a seat in front of a steaming plate of fish. “Oh, this smells delicious! Thank you, Vinyl.”

Thank yourself for being such a great teacher. How’s yours, Lyra? Too much dressing?

Lyra took a bite of her salad. “It’s wonderful.”

Good! Been a while since I had to make a salad that didn’t involve meat. Satisfied, Vinyl sat down at her own place. Lyra was surprised to see that, aside from a red-coloured drink, her place was bare.

“Is that all you’re having?” she questioned.

It’s all I need, Vinyl replied with a grin. A decidedly fanged grin.

“…Vampire?” Lyra asked calmly.

Vinyl looked put out. ‘Taaaaavi, did you tell her?

Octavia stifled a giggle behind a hoof. “I haven’t said a thing. Also, you never told me it was supposed to be a surprise.”

But usually ponies make a big deal out of it when I flash the fangs…

“Vinyl, earlier today I watched a werewolf fight a… what did you call it, a ‘shambling horror’?” Octavia nodded “Right. Earlier today I watched a werewolf fight a shambling horror. That’s kind of hard to top.”

…Fair enough.

“So I’m guessing that’s blood, then?” Lyra gestured towards Vinyl’s ‘drink’. “Should I be worried about where it came from?”

Don’t worry, it’s donated medical. I haven’t drunk from a pony in… about a hundred and sixty years, I think?

This caught Lyra off guard. “A hundred and sixty— How old are you?”

Two hundred next June. Vinyl smiled, clearly happy that she had at least gotten something out of the green mare. Pinkie’s been planning the party for years. No idea who she’s going to get to do the music.

A few moments passed where the only sounds were those of eating (or in Vinyl’s case, drinking).

“Okay, so this is entirely going off of foal’s stories, but aren’t vampires and werewolves supposed to hate each other?”

“Not hate, at least not anymore. Perhaps a bit of a rivalry, but that’s all.”

It was pretty bad for a while, but things got way better after the massacre of 854. Vinyl added. Turns out working together to ensure the survival of both species is better than facing an army of hunters alone, who knew?

“So how did you two meet?”

Octavia answered. “If it weren’t for Vinyl, I wouldn’t have become a lycan; I’d have become a lycan’s dinner.” She sighed. “The lycan that turned me was a filly named Dela Crème. She was a noble’s daughter; he’d been locking her in the basement of his mansion every full moon. Do you remember what I told you earlier about trying to confine a feral lycanequine?” Lyra nodded. “Well, this was a perfect example of why that is a terrible idea. She got loose, ran wild across half of Canterlot, and nearly mauled to death a certain musician who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Vinyl fought her off and brought me to a hospital.”

“You fought off a werewolf!?”

She was only a pup, and I had experience and rational thinking on my side, but yes. And I’d do it again.

“What happened to her?”

“Currently she’s residing at her family’s rather sizable summer estate.” Octavia answered. “She still writes me, actually. Sweet filly.”

The three fell into a comfortable silence. Soon enough, they had each finished their meals, and Vinyl had brought slices of apple pie out for dessert.

The DJ broke the silence. We’ve spent all night answering your questions, now it’s my turn! What’s your moniker?

“Vinyl! There’s no-”

“No, she’s right,” Lyra cut in. “It’s Truthseeker.”

Not bad, not bad. You’ve got some kind of blessing that lets you detect lies and things, right?

“And see through disguises.”

“Glamours as well. Pinkie thinks she might be able to break perception filters too,” Octavia added.

Cool. How’s life as an Owl treating you?

“Honestly… It hasn’t been all that different.” Lyra fixed her eyes on her pie. “I’ve been an Owl for about two months now, and today was the first time I was called. And mostly I just watched! After Pinkie gave me the induction speech, I was sort of expecting… more? And I know how that sounds, but I feel like I haven’t…”

“Done anything?”

Surprised, she looked up at Octavia. “Yeah.”

“I know how you feel, but for what it’s worth, that’s fairly normal.”

Yeah. ‘Tavi’s by far the most active of all the locals, and she usually only sees action once every couple months. Fact of the matter is, civilization as we know it can’t be in danger all the time.

“Vinyl’s right. Besides which, after you’ve gotten a bit more experience, you’ll be thankful for the times of peace.” Octavia’s expression shifted. “Honestly, after seeing some of the things the others have to deal with, I’m glad they rarely see action.”

Agreed. Remember the mind flayers?

The two shivered; Lyra decided it best not to ask.

Recovering, Octavia gave her a reassuring smile. “What we’re trying to say is, don’t worry about it. Your time will come.”

“Thanks. Both of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

No problem.

Chronoconfusion 1

Lyra once again checked the piece of pink stationery she had found wrapped around the handle of her manebrush earlier that morning. As it had the first two times, the plain, unassuming house in front of her matched the address written on the paper. She trotted up and knocked on the door, which was pulled open after a few moments by a small unicorn filly.

“Oh! Morning, Miss Lyra!”

Lyra couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the adorable filly. “Good morning, Dinky! Is your mom here?”

“Momma’s in the kitchen, follow me!”

As Dinky led her into the house, Lyra couldn’t help but notice just how well kept it was, especially given its owner. The home was decorated simply, but tastefully, with numerous pictures of the mailmare’s daughters hanging prominently on the walls.

“Momma! Miss Lyra is here!” the diminutive unicorn announced as the two entered the kitchen.

Ditzy looked up from the counter, where she was slicing the crusts off of a recently made daisy sandwich. “Hi, Lyra! How are you today?”

“Not too bad, thanks. How about you?”

“Great! Here, just let me finish putting lunch together for the foals, and then we can get going.” Ditzy finished with the sandwiches, then carried a couple of plates over to the table and a pair of waiting children. “Oh, I don’t think you’ve met; this is my nephew, Crackle Pop. He’s staying with me while his parents are away on work. Crackle, this is Lyra Heartstrings. She’s an old friend of your cousin’s.”

“Nice to meet you, miss!” the young colt replied, before digging into his sandwich, Dinky doing the same.

“Oh, and speaking of Sparkler,” Ditzy continued, glancing at the clock, “She should be here right about… now.”

As if on cue, Lyra heard the door swing open, and a few moments later Amethyst Star entered the kitchen. “Hi Mom!” The two ponies shared a quick hug.

Ditzy grinned. “On time as always. Thanks for volunteering to look after Dinky and Crackle today.”

“It’s no problem, you know that; I love spending time with my sister.” It was then that Amethyst noticed her friend. “Oh, hey Lyra.”

“Hey, Sparks.”

“What are you doing here?”

Ditzy cut in. “Lyra’s helping me with my errands today.”

“Ah yes, your mysterious ‘errands’,” Amethyst replied, smirking.

“Of course,” her mother said back with an identical smirk.

This must be a ‘thing’, Lyra thought to herself.

Ditzy cast another look at the clock. “Actually, we’d better get going if we want to get there in time.”

In time for what?

“Dinky, Crackle, you be good for Sparkler, all right?”

“We will,” the two foals chorused.

“Good.” Grabbing a pair of saddlebags, she gave one last goodbye to her family, and trotted out of the house with Lyra following close behind.

The two trotted along, engaging in meaningless small talk until they had left Ponyville proper. Now a ways into the grassy hills outside the town, Ditzy stopped.

“We’re here,” she said. “Time to get started. Ahem. The glade is dark and full of shade.”

“The owl stands, ever vigilant. Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker.”

“Ditzy Doo, Chronovoyant.”

“Chrono- that means time, right?”

“Yep,” Ditzy replied, taking off her saddlebags and placing them on the ground. From inside, she began withdrawing pieces of complicated and delicate-looking brass machinery. “And ‘Voyant’ is Prench; it means ‘vision’ or ‘seer’.” She began to carefully screw several of the components together.

Lyra thought for a moment. “So then… Wait, can you see the future?”

“Bingo! Got it in one. Well, close enough, anyway.” Now finished assembling her devices, she began to arrange them in a two-meter-wide circle around what appeared to Lyra to be a completely arbitrary patch of grass. Each of the pieces of machinery were different, some as small as a hoof, others the size of a mare’s head. Nearly all of them had some sort of dial or readout. Satisfied, the grey mare sat back and continued. “I can see potential futures, and it’s object-specific. I can see the next twenty-two minutes and seventeen seconds of the potential future of any given thing that I can lay my eyes on, with the exception of myself.”

“Is that why... uh…” Lyra gestured to her eyes.

“What? No, I was born with these. It’s why my family moved to Ponyville when I was younger.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ditzy replied with a reassuring smile. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

“...So why ‘potential’ future?” Lyra asked.

“My ability shows me the sum outcome of the current event set, not the actual future that has occurred/will come to be.” Seeing her companion’s blank look, Ditzy blushed. “Sorry, I’m not used to explaining this in laymare’s terms. Basically, what I see is what will happen based on everything that has occurred up to that point in time; this allows me to change the circumstances for a more favorable outcome. I’m not actually seeing the definite future, and interfering isn’t changing the future, since history is immutable; I’ve tested that pretty conclusively. I’m just seeing what would have happened. Does that make any sense?”

Lyra smiled. “Not in the slightest.”

Ditzy sighed. “Well, it’s functionally similar to seeing an object’s future; the difference is only really important in regards to time theory. You can just think of it like that if you want.”

“Works for me! I never pegged you for the science-y type, though.”

“Hang around Time Turner long enough and it rubs off on you. Plus it helps to know what you’re talking about when dealing with time travelers.”

“Wait, did you just say—“ Lyra was interrupted as a growing high-pitched whine began to emanate from the air in the center of Ditzy’s instruments. It was shortly followed by a small ball of bright light, which quickly expanded outwards until it almost hit the ring of machines. Several bolts of lightning arced out from the sphere as the noise grew to a deafening pitch. Then, with a final burst of blinding light, the whine ceased.

It took a few seconds for Lyra’s vision to clear. Where the ball of light had been, a pony was now picking herself off the ground. The mare brushed her blue-grey coat off with a hoof, while a golden telekinesis field pulled back her soft yellow mane, revealing a set of similarly-colored eyes. A pair of blue saddlebags obscured her cutiemark.

The mystery mare groaned. “Dang it Soo, you said you would work on the landing…” Giving her head a quick shake, she turned her attention to her surroundings. “Oh, hey Ditzy! Nice to see you again.” Her eyes fell on Lyra. “Lyra! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Uh… Hi?”

Ditzy giggled. “Dezzy, she hasn’t met you yet!”

“Oh, my bad!”

Ditzy turned to Lyra. “Lyra, I’d like you to meet Dezzy Doo, my granddaughter.”

Chronoconfusion 2

“So, how’d we do this time?” Dezzy asked, withdrawing a notebook and pencil from her saddlebags.

“Let’s see,” Ditzy said, pulling out a notebook and pencil of her own. “Today’s the 23rd of November, 6 AL,” She checked one of the instruments she had laid out earlier. “You arrived at exactly 13 minutes 6.2 seconds past 1 o’clock in the afternoon.” Both mares wrote this down. “When was our last meeting for you?”

“22nd of April, 7 AL, at 2:33:09.2 in the morning. Sorry about that in advance, by the way.”

Ditzy scribbled this down in her notebook. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure to go to bed early that night.” The two began to examine Ditzy’s instruments. “How’s Sooner doing?”

“Oh, she’s as absorbed in her work as always. She won’t be happy that we only made five months, though; we were expecting at least eight.”

It was at this point that Lyra had finally gathered her wits enough to cut in. “Excuse me, but would one of you please explain what’s going on? Because I am completely lost.”

Ditzy answered. “I’m sorry, Lyra; I’ll explain in detail later, but we only have—” she looked over at her granddaughter for a moment, “—two and a half more minutes before Dezzy gets pulled back to her time, and we need to get these readings down before she leaves.”

“Sorry,” Dezzy added apologetically. “The time machine can only hold me here for a few minutes right now.”

“Oh. Alright then.” Lyra sat down on the grass and watched as the two continued their work. A time machine. She has a time machine. An honest-to-Celestia time machine!

A minute later, the two had finished copying down the readings. Ditzy passed her notebook to Dezzy, who began copying a second set of numbers over to her own.

“She’s copying the departure data,” Ditzy told Lyra. Lyra, still uncertain as to what was happening, said nothing, but nodded in acknowledgement anyway.

“Done,” Dezzy declared, just as one of the devices began ringing. “And, by the sound of it, just in time.” She made her way back into the circle of machines.

“Have a safe trip! Tell Sooner I said hello!”

“Will do! Bye, grandma! Nice to see you again, Ly-“ And with a sudden, blinding flash of light, she was gone.

Lyra immediately turned to the pegasus. “Okay, you need to explain this. Right now.”

“Okay, so let me see if I’ve got this straight.”

Ditzy nodded and gestured for her to go ahead.

“In the future, your granddaughter, Dezzy Doo, alongside Time Turner’s granddaughter…“

“Sooner Former,” Ditzy supplied.

“Right. Dezzy and Sooner get a visit from Sooner’s at-this-point-not-yet-born daughter, who is at this time an earth pony, and she gives them her broken time machine. It only goes backwards in time, can only go backwards a set distance, and only works for a few minutes. And she asks them to fix it, because she needs it to defeat some great evil in her time. Am I right so far?”

“Yep!”

“So as they fix it, using research left to them by Time Turner, Dezzy keeps going further and further back in time. And this goes on until they reach August of 977, where her visit interferes with one of Time Turner’s foalhood experiments, causing a magical accident. And the result of this is what, again?”

“Time turner got sent back in time, earned his cutie mark, and accidentally inspired his younger self to pursue science; I got directly exposed to the time stream and gained my futuresight ability, and the temporal energies released by the event fed back into the time machine’s main engine and gave it that last bit of power it needed to return to full working order.”

“And, now that it’s working, she tells you about all of this, and then travels into the future and gives the machine to Sooner’s daughter. Right?”

Ditzy nodded. “Right.”

“So she does… whatever it is she needs the machine for. And then, she travels back in time and gives the machine, now broken again, to Time Turner. This happens thirty-five years from now. And at some point in all this she has become a FREAKING ALICORN.”

“Mmhm.”

“And he studies the machine, and passes it and his notes down to his son. And he passes them on to Sooner, and she gives the machine to her daughter.”

“That about sums it up.”

“Right. And you have no idea what her name is, what she’s fighting against, or how she ascends?”

“Nope, nope, and nope. The only contact any of us have had with thus far in our own subjective timelines was when she gave Sooner her machine, and she was still an earth pony then. But Turner’s notes say that she’s an alicorn when she brings him the machine, so…”

“Okay.” Lyra glanced around at the myriad of diagrams Ditzy had drawn into the dirt while trying to explain the elaborate series of time loops hers and Time Turner’s families were ensnared in. “One last question.”

“I think I can guess what it is, but go ahead.”

“Who built the time machine? If Time Turner gets it from his great granddaughter, and she gets it from Sooner, and Sooner gets it from Time Turner’s son, and he gets it from Time Turner…”

“Trust me, that question has kept me up for more nights than I’d like to admit. It’s healthier just to not think about it.”

“But… But!”

Ditzy looked Lyra in the eyes as best she could. “Seriously. Just pretend it doesn’t matter. For the sake of your own sanity.”

“Alright.” Lyra leaned back and looked up to the sky, letting out a long breath. “And you deal with this sort of thing on a regular basis?”

“Hey, this is only a couple simple time loops! You should see the sort of craziness that happens when a paradox machine gets involved, or a Turner-Twister device!”

Lyra looked back at the grey mare with an almost pained look. “Do I even want to know what those do?”

“Two words,” she replied with a grin. “Alternate. Timelines.”

Lyra stood up. “That’s it, I’m going home, where things don’t require three different levels of thinking to make sense. Nice to see you, Ditzy.”

“You too; say hi to Bon Bon for me. Oh, and Lyra?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take the road that goes by Sugar Cube Corner on your way back.”

Lyra cocked her head to the side. “What? Why Not?”

Ditzy gestured to her eyes. “I don’t think Bon Bon would appreciate you getting cake frosting on the carpet.”

“Ah, gotcha. Thanks.”

Her Mother's Daughter 1 (Rewrite)

That’s odd, Lyra thought to herself. It had only been a few minutes since she had finally managed to drag herself out of her bed, and she was only one-third awake at the moment, but she was certain she didn’t recognize the little paper flower tucked behind her ear. She examined it in the vanity’s mirror.

It was a simple little thing. The petals folded out into a square-ish shape, with more poking out from the center. In fact, it appeared to be made from a single sheet of plain, if slightly thin, paper. Actually, Lyra had heard about this sort of thing; apparently it was some sort of Neighponese art or something, what was it called? It took a minute for her still-groggy mind to come up with the word.

Oh yeah. Origami.

Lyra yawned. Must have been Bonnie, she decided. Didn’t know she knew how to do this sort of thing. That’s pretty cool.

Now slightly more awake, she made her way downstairs in search of the coffee she would need to get up to 100%.

“Morning, Bon Bon!” Lyra said to her marefriend as she entered the kitchen, pulling a pot of coffee out of the fridge with her magic and placing it on the stove to heat up.

It took a few seconds for her to notice the lack of response to her greeting.

“Bonnie?” Still no response. Now that she thought about it, the house was oddly silent; normally it was filled with the sounds of passionate candy making or ponies making orders in the storefront. Today, it was quiet.

Mildly confused, Lyra began to search the house. “Bonnie? Are you here?”

There was no sign of her in the house, nor was there any response to her calls.

That’s odd; Bonnie never leaves the shop unattended during open hours. Maybe she needed to get something from the market?

Shrugging, she returned to the kitchen and retrieved her coffee, grabbing a scone from the cupboard as well.

Lyra stepped out onto the street, her lyre in her saddlebags. It was a nice day, though it looked like the weatherponies had been slacking off; numerous clouds drifted through the sky haphazardly. Still, the air was pleasantly cool, and the sun was shining through in defiance of the cloud cover. Lyra began the short walk from the house to her favorite public rehearsal spot, a bench in a nearby park that sat beneath an oak tree. She had been practicing there for years.

“Hey, Lyra! Any luck?”

Lyra turned to find the source of the voice, Berry Punch, standing alongside Time Turner and Carrot Top. “Oh, hey guys! Luck with what?”

“With finding Pinkie Pie! We’ve been checking up and down this side of town all morning, but no luck. What about you?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her. Why are you looking for her?”

Berry blinked in confusion. “Because… Uh… Huh.” She looked over to Time Turner. “Why are we looking for Pinkie Pie?”

“I… Have no idea,” he replied. “We were supposed to bring her to Twilight’s castle though, right?”

“That’s right,” Carrot Top affirmed. “I don’t think it matters why.” The others nodded their agreement, almost looking relieved.

Something’s wrong. Lyra swallowed.

“Oookay then! Well, you guys keep looking over there, and I’ll… go search that way! I’m sure we’ll find her in no time.”

“You got it! Good luck!” Berry turned around, giving Lyra a full view of the side of her head— and the paper flower tucked behind her ear. Checking quickly, Lyra saw that the others also possessed similar origami figures.

“Hey wait, where did you get those?”

Berry looked over her shoulder. “Get what?”

“The… Nevermind.” Lyra made her escape, heading towards the middle of town.

OKAY! Something is VERY wrong. I’d better find Pinkie myself, and I bet I know exactly where to look!

It wasn’t long before Lyra found herself outside Sugarcube Corner. She made her way past the two stallions guarding the entrance without trouble, and made her way to the rear of the store and the back room that Pinkie usually used for Owl meetings. Making sure she was unobserved, she knocked on the door.

“Pinkie? Are you in there? It’s Lyra. I’m me, I swear.”

After a moment, the door opened a crack. Lyra took this as a sign to enter and did so, pulling the door shut behind her. She took a few steps into the room before she was suddenly forced to the ground by an unseen force. A faint tone rang in her ears, like the sound of a tuning fork but with more reverberations; the musical side of her brain placed it as C sharp.

“What do you want?” an unfamiliar high-pitched voice asked from behind her.

Lyra tried to look in the direction of the voice, but her head was being held still against the floor. “I was looking for Pinkie Pie. Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

“Why?” she asked, ignoring Lyra’s question.

“Because something weird is going on, and she’s the most likely pony to know why. Now, answer my questions!”

A more familiar high-pitched voice broke in. “Wait, Wait! I think she might be okay!”

“Pinkie, you are here! Do you know what’s happening? Bon Bon’s missing, and the ponies I ran into in town are acting weird, and there are these paper flowers—”

“See, she knows about the flowers! None of those zomponies outside noticed. Let her up, Bloo!”

“If you’re sure…” The tone abruptly ceased, and Lyra felt the force pressing down on her let up. Getting to her hooves, she dusted herself off before turning to face the two ponies. There was Pinkie, her eldritch form as bizarre as ever, and standing beside her…

“Oh! It’s you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked the little blue unicorn filly with the white mane and the spiraling markings that traversed the length of her body.

“Ooh, introductions time!” Pinkie said, clapping her hooves together in excitement. “Bloo, this is Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker!” She gestured towards the filly. “Lyra, meet Winter Bell, Child of the Far Plane!”

Her Mother's Daughter 2 (Rewrite)

“Ooh, introductions time!” Pinkie said, clapping her hooves together in excitement. “Bloo, this is Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker!” She gestured towards the filly. “Lyra, meet Winter Bell, Child of the Far Plane!”

“Wait, you’re an Owl?” Lyra said.

“Yeah!” Winter Bell replied, her little face scrunching up in annoyance. “Why does everypony always ask that!?”

Lyra suspected she knew the answer. She doesn’t look any older than Dinky! And she’s an Owl? That’s just… just… irresponsible! She could get hurt, or worse!

She then noticed the look Pinkie was giving her. Despite the alien nature of her features, its meaning was conveyed perfectly: ‘Later’. Lyra swallowed.

Right. We’re in the middle of a crisis. We can deal with the moral implications of a child in the ranks of an organization of vigilantes and monster hunters after we save everyone.

“I’m sorry. Nice to meet you, Winter Bell.”

“Hmph!” she said, pouting slightly. She opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by Pinkie ruffling her mane.

“C’mon Bloo, be nice! We need all the help we can get right now! Or did you forget that we have a crisis on our hooves?”

“Yeah, about that…” Lyra began. “Pinkie, what on Equis is going on out there!? Why is everypony acting so weird? Why are they looking for you? Why aren’t we affected? What’s with the flowers?”

Pinkie took a deep breath. “It’s a crisis situation and I’m not entirely sure but what we do know is thatatsomepointlastnighttheselittlepaper—”

Her rapid speech was brought to an end as Lyra’s hoof plugged her speaking mouth. “Pinkie, any other time I’d be fine with this, but I’m kinda freaking out right now! So, if you could talk at a more normal speed, that would be just great.”

“I’m sorry,” Pinkie said quite coherently, using the mouth right beneath the one with Lyra’s hoof in it.

“Er… right.” She removed her hoof.

“So here’s what we know: Early this morning, those little paper flowers blew into town and ended up behind everypony’s ear, turning them into the unwitting servants of…”

Lyra leaned forward. “Yes?”

“I dunno! We haven’t figured that out yet. Bloo and I were still deciding on a plan when you showed up!”

“We should just go out and make noise until whoever’s responsible shows up!” Winter Bell said, stomping her little hoof.

Pinkie shook her head. “No, Bloo, we can’t do that! Somepony might get hurt! And besides, whoever’s behind this would have the drop on us if we did!”

“I could take ‘em!”

Somehow I doubt that.

“Not if they snuck up behind you while you weren’t paying attention!”

“But we have to do something soon! If we don’t, then—”

“Alright, alright. Hang on,” Lyra interrupted. “Why aren’t any of us affected?” She cast her gaze towards her own flower. “And shouldn’t I be getting rid of this?” her horn began to glow as she readied her telekinesis.

Pinkie’s eyes widened, and she began flailing her forelegs. “No no no, too dangerous! Mind magic can be delicate sometimes, who knows what could happen if you interrupt it like that! You could end up permanently affected, or worse!”

The glow on Lyra’s horn immediately winked out. “Good to know!”

She then noticed something. “But then why don’t you have one, Pinkie?”

“It ripped itself up. I don’t think whatever magic’s in these things can understand my brain. That’s why everypony’s looking for me, I think.”

“Oh. That, uh… makes sense, I guess. What about me?

She tapped her hoof to her chin. “Hmmm… Well, it’s obviously to do with your blessing… Oh, I know! Maybe the blessing counts the instructions from the flower as lies!”

“That works. What about the kid?”

“Hey!”

“Oh, that’s easy! Bloo’s got her magical space whale momma in her head to protect her.”

“…Care to run that by me again?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Winter Bell said.

“No, I can tell that. My blessing lets me know when ponies are lying,” Lyra replied. “I just can’t figure out what that’s supposed to mean.”

“It means I’ve got a magical space whale living in my head.” Her eyes darted upwards for a moment. “Momma says ‘Hi’, by the way.”

“Um… Hello to her, too?”

She looked to Pinkie, hoping to get answers.

“Bloo’s adopted momma is an Elder, they’re like these big alien whales made out of sapient heartsong. She’s sitting in Bloo’s soul right now.”

Lyra’s head tilted to the side, her face contorting into a look of utter bafflement. “Sapient… Heartsong?”

Pinkie turned to the filly. “How is she, by the way?”

“She’s getting better. She says she’ll be back to full strength in a few more years. But that’s not important right now! We need to do something about what’s going on outside!” she said, her voice cracking higher as she went on.

The reminder of the current emergency snapped Lyra out of her confusion. “Right. What do we do, Pinkie?”

“I dunno! Like I said, we were still figuring that out. Bloo wants to go in eldritch-powers and soul-song blazing, but if we did that, who knows who or what could get caught in the crossfire!” Pinkie punctuated this sentence by miming a small explosion with her hooves. “Meanwhile, I want to try a sneak attack, but I don’t even know where to start!”

“Why not the castle?” Lyra asked. She received two blank stares, prompting her to explain. “The ponies outside said they were supposed to bring Pinkie there. Did you guys not know that?”

“I came here right after momma woke me up.”

“I was too busy being chased to ask,” Pinkie said. “Still, this is great! Now we can take the fight to them!”

She rubbed her forehooves together, an unsettling smile spreading across her face… and her neck.

“And I have the perfect plan…”

The doors of Sugarcube Corner burst open, a pink blur shooting out of them like a cannonball. The various mind-controlled townsponies outside immediately turned in the direction of the disturbance, which, upon reaching the middle of the street, resolved itself into Pinkie Pie.

“Hello, friends! Looking for somepony?”

“It’s Pinkie!” they cried. “Get her!”

“Ooh, are we playing tag?” she said, breaking into a gallop. “I guess I’m ‘it’!”

Her escape came to a halt as she paused to contemplate her situation, her hoof tapping against her chin. “But then, shouldn’t I be chasing all of you?”

She ducked, one of her would-be assailants sailing over her in a botched attempt at a tackle. “Oh well! Come on everypony! This way!”

Lyra, watching from the window of the bakery, gave a silent cheer as Pinkie led the entire crowd of ponies eastwards—the direction opposite of Twilight’s castle.

She turned to Winter Bell, who was standing on the ends of her hooves and straining just to see over the windowsill. “Alright, our turn. Let’s go.”

After making sure the mob was far enough away as not to notice them, the two of them began running west.

Her Mother's Daughter 3 (rewrite)

The doors to Twilight’s castle slid open quietly on well-oiled hinges. Cautiously, Lyra peeked through the gap, sweeping the entranceway with her eyes.

“Alright,” she whispered, “the coast looks clear, but we’d better be careful. We have no idea what we’re dealing with, so—hey! Wait!”

Winter bell had, while Lyra was talking, already slipped through the door. “Come on!” she said. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Hold on!” Lyra said, rushing in after her and blocking her path. “We have to be cautious! You can’t just run in like—whoa!” She was interrupted again, this time by the resonant tone from earlier ringing in the air as she was forcibly shoved out of Winter Bell’s way.

“Stop! Wasting! My! Time!” the little filly shouted. “Every second we waste now is another second they have control over my dad! I won’t let them hurt him anymore!”

She dashed off, deeper into the crystalline halls of the castle.

Lyra meanwhile, despite being dazed from the sudden force, was having a revelation.

“Oh. Oh crap.”

She broke into a gallop after the filly, shaking her head to clear the confusion. Each hoofstep echoed off the walls of the palace, announcing their presence to anyone who might have been listening.

Crap! Her dad. Her dad is… so that’s why she kept trying to hurry things ahead! I can’t blame her, I’d be the same way if Bon Bon—Bon Bon! I didn’t even think of that! She’s out there somewhere, too, I’m a terrible—

She caught a glimpse of Winter Bell’s tail darting around a corner.

“Winter Bell, wait! I know you’re worried, but we have to at least stick together!”

“I don’t need you!”

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Throne room!”

This gave Lyra pause. “Why there?”

“Where else would it be?!”

“…fair enough. Still, slow down!”

The chase continued for a few more minutes, the two flying through the winding crystal corridors and up several flights of stairs. Winter Bell’s shorter stature proved her downfall, as her shorter legs allowed Lyra to eventually overcome her head start. With a final leap, Lyra sailed over the filly and skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path. Triumphant, she made her final stand, though the effect was marred somewhat by her lack of breath.

“Look, Bell… I know… you don’t… like me, and… you want to help your dad, but… we need—”

“Uh, Lyra—”

“No, listen!” she said, stomping her hoof loudly for emphasis. “We need to work together! You need to save your dad and I need to save Bon Bon. So, we have a common goal! If we work together, we can—”

“That’s great, miss Lyra, but—”

“Get them!” someone shouted from over Lyra’s shoulder.

“—we’re already at the throne room!”

Lyra spun her neck around, looking behind her. Indeed, there was the throne room, and inside…

The first thing she noticed was Applejack. The normally down-to-earth farmpony was at this juncture much the opposite, floating several feet off of her crystal throne in an aura of perverse light. Energy crackled and popped off of her in waves, red and pink mane stripes and apple markings appearing and disappearing with each discharge. The other throne-holders were in a similar state, flickering in between their normal shape and the forms that they had taken during the fight with Tirek. Lyra was relieved to see that Pinkie Pie was absent from their number.

The second thing she noticed was a new mare, one she did not recognize. Her coat was a dark green, and her off-white mane hung long and loose around her horn, lit a pale pink and writing something in an old-looking book. Going by the unpleasant look on her face, Lyra deduced that she was the one who had called for their capture.

The third and fourth things she noticed were the unicorn and the alicorn, paper flowers nestled in their manes, leaping towards her with their horns lit and their faces twisted into scowls.

“Ponyfeathers.”

Lyra darted to the right, grabbing Winter Bell with her magic and flinging the two of them past the edge of the doorframe. The sudden heat and loud crash behind her let her know how close it had been.

A tone sounded from beside her, and with a crash, the doors to the throne room slammed shut.

“Are you alright?” Lyra heard herself saying over the rushing sound of her heartbeat.

“Fine!” came Winter Bell’s reply.

Something slammed against the door.

“How long can you keep the door closed?”

“I’d worry more about how long the door will last!”

Okay, Lyra thought, you’re only being attacked by an alicorn and the most powerful unicorn this side of Canterlot. You can think of a way out of this!

Another impact sounded against the doors, showering the floor with splinters.

…Okay, what would Bon Bon do? Probably something cool, with a grappling hook. Which I don’t have.

“I have an idea!” Winter Bell said, even as the door snapped further.

“Please tell me it’s a good one, because I’m fresh out!”

“It is,” she said.

“Well alright then! What’s the plan?”

The tone cut out abruptly.

“This!”

With a shuddering crash, the doors blasted open, flying down the hall in several pieces. Wasting no time, Winter Bell leapt forward, skidding to a stop right in the middle of the opening.

Lyra instinctively started forward to stop the filly, but stopped as she watched the bands swirling across her coat begin to glow.

Her confusion quickly turned to horror as she saw their attackers, their horns bright with charged magic.

“Winter Bell, no—”

Two things happened in quick succession.

The first was the discharge of the unicorn’s and the alicorn’s charged spells, twin lances of pink and turquoise which shot out at the defenseless filly.

The second was the sudden blast of sound.

The wall of noise reverberated off of the smooth walls of the palace, utterly annihilating all other sound with its power. To Lyra’s ears, it sounded like a thousand church bells, all ringing at once in perfect harmony, in perfect clarity, their sounds joining and intertwining into something far more than the sum of its parts. It was more than just a tone, more than just a note. It was the note.

Even as the sound threatened to deafen her, the musician couldn’t help but revel a little in its perfection.

And at the heart of the sound was Winter Bell, her markings glowing intensely, brilliantly white. The power she channeled carried her off her hooves, floating her in the air. For just a moment, Lyra thought she could see something else in the space around the filly, embracing her, but it was impossible.

The bolts of magic, overshadowed before the might of what had become of their target, impacted against a wall of invisible force. Yet instead of dissipating, they remained, pooling against the barrier, the two colours melting together into a single mass of pure magic.

And with a crescendo, the magic was sent away, flying through the air at great speed towards the mare at the heart of it all. With a scream, the mystery mare brought the book, leather bound and ancient, up to protect her.

With a blast that couldn’t quite overpower the fading sound of the bells, the magic met the book, and Lyra’s world went white.

When Lyra’s senses returned to her, the first thing she felt was an odd squirming behind her ear. Raising a hoof weakly, she batted whatever it was away. It landed on the floor in front of her muzzle, a twisting, writhing mess of paper. Somewhere deep in the numb recesses of her brain, Lyra likened it to an insect that had recently had its head crushed underhoof.

Blinking, Lyra turned her attention to the rest of the scene.

There were Twilight’s friends, slumped unconscious in their thrones, their breaths heavy. On the ground not too far from her were Twilight and Starlight, similarly out of it. And before them was Winter Bell, the little filly curled up on herself. She looked at peace, her breathing normal, her eyes closed softly.

There was still one more occupant in the room, however, and their pained groan quickly reminded Lyra of their existence. Turning her head, she watched as the mare who had, until recently, held control of Ponyville struggled to her hooves. She was badly singed, but aside from that, appeared mostly uninjured. By the pained groans, however, it was obvious that she was at least very sore.

“What in the Princess’ name… is that filly?” the mare coughed out.

Lyra began her own ascent to standing, the sluggishness quickly clearing from her mind as her quarry began limping away.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” she called out to the mare, who had now reached the door.

“I don’t know who the two of you are,” the mare said, “but I’ll warn you now: you would do well not to mess with me again.”

“Heh, you think there’ll be a next time?” Lyra said, cautiously walking towards the mare. She was slumped against the wall now, using it to support her weight as she walked down the hall. “You’re finished! Give up now, and maybe the Princess will go easy on you.”

The mare snorted, though it was pained. “’Princess’, ha! That dirty thief won’t be getting her hooves on me that easily.” She reached one of the great glass windows and turned, fixing Lyra with a grim stare.

“I will get that which was meant to be mine,” the mare said, gritting her teeth. “No matter how long it takes.”

With what could only have been the last of her strength, she rammed her body against the window, shattering it. Lyra could only stare in shock as the mare did the one thing she would never have expected:

She jumped out the window.

Lyra darted forward, but it was too late; she reached the jagged hole only in time to watch in sickening silence as the unicorn’s body plummeted to the ground, several stories below.

Only in time to stare at the mess on the ground below.

After a while, a sound from behind her caught her attention. Turning, she watched Winter Bell stir in her slumber.

It was enough. Walking away from the window with a feeling of finality, she returned to the map room and scooped up the filly in her magic, laying her gently on her back.

With a final draw of breath, she began walking, leaving the castle behind.

The following few days were busy ones.

The destruction of the book had taken the paper flowers, and their victim’s memories of the event, with it. As such, the entire population of Ponyville all woke up at once, far from their beds and with no explanation of how they’d gotten there. As one would expect, fear and confusion were abundant.

And then the body had been found, and everything had gone to Tartarus.

The small town had been flooded with reporters, guards, and investigators, all trying to unearth the mystery behind what the papers had dubbed, ‘The Missing Morning’. The identity of the dead mare had been established fairly quickly; her name had been Hollyleaf, a florist from Manehatten who had disappeared without warning about a month prior.

Lyra, looking at the mare’s face plastered across the front of the morning paper, could see little resemblance between the kind-looking unicorn in print and the monster she had encountered in the castle.

She took a sip of her coffee, and glanced up at the door to the kitchen. Sounds of culinary work drifted out through the opening, as did the sounds of Bon Bon’s humming. Lyra smiled at the sound.

Bon Bon herself had been rather more concerned about the sudden outbreak of memory loss than the rest of the town, and had been doubly suspicious when Lyra had returned with numerous scratches and scrapes that she wouldn’t explain. But, she had kept the interrogation to a minimum, which Lyra had been grateful for, though not nearly as grateful as she had been to find out that her marefriend had come out of the event less injured than she was.

Her thoughts drifted to Winter Bell’s own reunion, with her father; Lyra had stood off to the side as the little filly had tackle-hugged the stallion’s leg. Winter Bell had been bawling. The stallion (Noteworthy, as it turned out) had just looked confused, despite immediately moving to comfort his daughter.

The happy memory was immediately chased away by the memory of the window.

Gulping her coffee down involuntarily, Lyra fought back the bile threatening to rise up her throat; she’d had plenty of practice the last couple of days.

It’s fine, she told herself. You’re fine. Everything turned out well, and that’s what matters.

That’s what matters.

Exhaling, she put down the paper and her cup of pick-me-up and grabbed her lyre. She sent her memory back, back before the window, before the blast. She cast her thoughts back to the beautiful uproar Winter Bell had unleashed.

Smiling, she began to play.

Tourists From Beyond

Grappling Hook 101

“I’ve made up my mind,” Bon Bon declared, standing up from the table. It was a Saturday, and the candymaker had closed her shop for a couple hours in order to have lunch with Lyra.

“About what?”

“Since you aren’t going to let me in on your secret—” she held up a hoof to stave off Lyra’s reply. “and since whatever you have become a part of is CLEARLY dangerous, especially considering what happened last week, I have decided that it is my responsibility, no, my duty, to look after your safety.

“And so,” she continued, “Like the responsible marefriend with combat experience that I am, I have decided that I am going to train you in self-defense.” She pulled an object out of her tail and placed it in front of Lyra with a thunk.

“Meet me on the north edge of Ponyville in five hours. Make sure you aren’t followed.” She then returned to the storefront, leaving Lyra to stare at the recently polished grappling hook the ex-agent had set before her.

Pipe (Fever) Dreams

Tourists From Beyond

“I need you not to leave your house tomorrow night.”

Lyra was currently in the back room of Sugarcube Corner that Pinkie liked to conduct Owl business in. Pinkie had summoned her via letter (this time tucked between the pages of a novel Lyra had been reading).

“Why’s that?”

“You know how the sun and moon rotate around our planet, with a little help from the Princesses?”

Lyra nodded, wondering where Pinkie was going with this.

“Well, Equis is also rotating around the center of our galaxy, with a little help from a guy named Llwybr-Llaethog - he’s like this living black hole surrounded by tentacles made out of dark matter, it’s weird- and the Milky Neigh is itself rotating around the center of the universe, with a little help from Bydysawd, the Center of All Things. Make sense so far?”

“…I think so?”

“Good! So, as it happens, Equis is going to end up crossing through a particularly notable star alignment tomorrow, starting at about one o’clock in the morning. And, it just so happens that the exact location of the center of this alignment is going to pass right through Ponyville!”

Lyra took a moment to digest this information. “Okay. So, what is this star alignment… thing, going to do?”

“Oh, nothing really; alignments don’t do anything unless you can call on them, and mainly all that’s good for is eldritch magic, like what I do. This sort of thing actually happens more often than you’d think; there are a LOT of stars out there.”

“So why do I have to stay inside, then?” Lyra asked.

“Because it’s not the alignment itself that’s going to be the problem; it’s who comes with it. An event like this is bound to attract some of my cousins! And I don’t mean the Apples.”

“More eldronies? What’s wrong with that?”

“Not eldritch ponies, silly- well, except for my sister. I’m talking about eldritch abominations, like my granny Ynysddu! The kind that turn your brain into taffy if you see them.”

Lyra calmly took another drink from her smoothie. “So then, why aren’t we evacuating the town?”

“It shouldn’t be necessary. Maud –that’s my sister- and I will be there to keep everybeing happy and under control, and to erect perception filters in case anypony getting a late-night snack happens to look out their window. But with your ability…”

“Oh, I getcha. My blessing cuts through perception filters…”

“So it would be really, really bad for your brainium if you were to run into our little star party,” Pinkie finished. “So, Pinkie promise me you won’t go outside or look out your windows tomorrow night!”

“No problem, I didn’t have any plans anyway. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Lyra did the motions.

Lyra was awoken by a distant crash. Groggily, she lifted her head up from her pillow. Blinking until her eyes grew into focus, she was greeted by the silhouette of her marefriend against the open window. The moonlight glinted off of her grappling hook as it spun, gaining momentum before it was thrown out into Ponyville. Silently and with practiced ease, Bon Bon swung out into the town.

Then Lyra’s brain caught up to the rest of her body.

She flung herself out of bed and galloped to the window. “Bon Bon!” she yelled out into the night as loud as she dared, scanning the street for the mare. There was no sign of her.

Horseapples, what do I do, what do I do!?

But there was only one option.

I’m sorry, Pinkie! And she ran to the stairs.

Lyra had been so careful. She had made sure that she and Bon Bon went to bed on time, she had closed all the blinds, and had even locked the windows just in case.

Yet now she found herself on the streets of Ponyville, stumbling about with her eyes cast firmly downwards. Thankfully (or not, depending on who or what she might run into), the moon was nearly full, and illuminated the way nicely.

“Bon Bon!” Lyra hissed. There was no response.

At least, not at first. Soon however, Lyra began to hear the faint sounds of… something, just at the edge of her ability to hear them. A very slight break in the stillness of the night. Concentrating, Lyra discerned the direction of the almost-sound and headed towards it, careful to keep her gaze locked to the dirt and stones of the road.

As Lyra pressed onward, the noises began to take shape, first as incomprehensible whispers. The strange and alien sounds that danced at the edge of her consciousness disturbed her, but the mare paid them no mind.

Then came the music.

As Lyra carefully rounded a corner, the whispers exploded into a cacophony of discordant, piped notes that despite their disharmonious wail also resonated perfectly. Sounds utterly opposed to one another mingled, danced, and merged together into blasphemous chords. Lyra prided herself on her musical ability, but this music was wrong in a way she could put neither to thought nor to words. It was almost pervasive in the manner it wormed into her consciousness, echoing within her mind in such a way that it grew no quieter after Lyra had jammed her hooves over her ears.

And despite her having ceased moving forward, it was growing louder.

Lyra kept her eyes and ears shut tight, even as she sensed the thing approach. She could feel it as it grew closer, even as its piping grew louder in her mind; she did not know why. She could only shiver in the fear of this unknown thing as it came to a stop before her. Lyra waited… and waited… and waited, for what seemed like an eternity and yet she knew was only a few moments, waited for this thing before her to move, to attack, to flee, to do something, anything else.

She could take it no longer. Lyra opened her eyes.

An Owl in Canterlot 1

Pipe (Fever) Dreams

All she got were snippets.

“-ra? Oh Celestia, LYRA!”

“No, I told you to stay inside! You Pinkie Promised!”

“Bon-“ Lyra croaked out, but then the cacophony washed over her once more, drowning out everything else. She could not hear, she could not feel, she could not see, her senses overwhelmed by ever-present, all-consuming noise.

And what wasn’t taken by the noise was filled with the impossible image of It.

The cacophony ebbed and flowed.

“-eed to get her to Canterlot-“

“-y should I trust-“

“-rain won’t be here for another-“

“-aud could take her, she can’t get any worse-“

“-only way-“

“-hurry-“

An unfamiliar, monotone voice. “Hold on.”

A moment of weightlessness.

Another unfamiliar voice. “-blazes are you doing-“

“-Pie, Queen in Pink.”

“Maud Pie, Queen in-“

“-Truthseeker-“

And, suddenly, a voice in her head, fighting to be heard over the cacophony. Miss Heartstrings! I can help you, but I need your consent! Do I have your permission to affect your mindscape?

Lyra said something that she hoped sounded like a yes.

And suddenly, everything ceased. The cacophonous music abruptly relented, the images of its master faded from her memory, and her tumultuous mind at last grew still.

Lyra slipped into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

-End of Part 1: Introductions-

-Begin Part 2: On-the-Job Experience-

An Owl in Canterlot 2

An Owl in Canterlot 1

Lyra awoke in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, to the sight of an unfamiliar creature watching her from a stool in the corner.

“Oh, good! You’re awake!” a Canterlot accent-tinged voice proclaimed from the general direction of the creature, which, despite being a roiling mass of flesh and eyes, did not have any mouth Lyra could see. “I will go fetch the mistress and Miss Pinkamena, I am certain they will be overjoyed to see that you have recovered!”

Lyra watched as the thing flowed off of its seat and on to the floor, then made for the doorway.

“You, uh… You wouldn’t happen to be a relative of Pinkie’s, would you?”

It stopped. “Oh, no, madam! I am but a humble shoggoth, in the employ of Miss Maud.”

“Oh. Okay.” The shoggoth slithered out of the room.

Left to her own devices for the moment, Lyra wriggled her way out of bed and stood up, a chorus of clicks and pops accompanying her movements as her limbs stretched. She walked over to the room’s only window and pulled the curtains apart. What greeted her were the white buildings, purple roofs, and gold trimmings that could only belong to the city of Canterlot.

Here again, huh, Lyra thought to herself. It’s been a while. She sighed.

“Lyra! You’re okay!” She was suddenly pulled into a bone-crushing hug from behind. “I was so so so SO worried!”

“Pinkie! Can't… Breathe!”

“Oopsie! Sorry about that!” Pinkie released her from the death-grip. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad, all things considered,” Lyra replied. “Although most of last night is a blur. Care to fill me in?”

“Oh, sure! Well, after your little run in with Nghaniedydd, who is very, very sorry about what happened by the way; he was just really excited to meet another musician! But anyway, after you collapsed, he came and told us what happened. Although it took a little while for us to figure out what he was saying; he’s kind of hard to understand ’cause of the whole flesh-clarinet-mouth thing he has going, but once we did, Maud and I rushed over there as fast as we could, and we found Bon Bon on the way! So then we were all freaking out and I didn’t know what to do and Bon Bon was really angry at me and Maud suggested that we take you to see Dr. Dissonance here in Canterlot! She’s always been good under pressure like that! So, Maud and I used our awesome eldritch powers to bring you here, so that Dissy could rummage around in your noggin and fix you! Oh, and Bon Bon and Ditzy will be coming on the first train, so be ready for that!”

Lyra blinked, her head spinning slightly. “I only got about seven words out of all that. Could you say that again? A little slower this time?”

“Sorry!” Pinkie repeated her previous torrent of words at a more reasonable pace. As she spoke, two other ponies walked into the room. The first was an older, light-orange unicorn wearing a green sweater; his head was bald and the image of a thought bubble adorned his flanks.

Following behind him was a pony Lyra could only assume was Pinkie’s sister, Maud, with the shoggoth slipping in behind her. While Pinkie held a mostly pony-like shape with a few very noticeable alterations, her sister appeared more eldritch than pony (whatever that meant).

Maud’s face was almost entirely hidden by a curtain of long, twisting feelers; a single solid, unblinking eye nestled at their center. The tendrils hung down to the base of her neck, which was, unlike Pinkie, free of mouths. A blue-grey frock covered her midsection; from the back of the dress exploded a plethora of longer tentacles which aided her forelegs (hooves split, like Pinkie’s) in walking. Her skin was a smooth, leathery grey, which faded gradually into the purple of her coiling appendages.

Lyra had learned when she had first joined the Owls not to be frightened by appearances. When Maud caught her looking, Lyra gave her a small smile and went back to focusing on Pinkie’s story.

“...and Ditzy’s going to bring Bon Bon here on the morning train, which should be here in about two hours.”

Lyra sighed. “Guess there’s no chance of keeping this a secret from her now, is there?”

“’Fraid not.” For the first time, Pinkie seemed to notice they were no longer alone. “Ooh, introductions time! Lyra, this is my sister, Maud, Queen in Grey...”

“Hello,” Maud answered in an even monotone.

“And this is Boulder, Maud’s shoggoth...” She gestured to the shoggoth.

“A pleasure to properly make your acquaintance, Miss Heartstrings.”

Pinkie pointed to the unicorn. “And this is Dr. Cognitive Dissonance, Mindscaper! He’s the one who patched up your consciousness!”

“Very nice to meet you in reality, Miss Heartstrings. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to ask you a couple of post-operation questions, just to make sure everything is in order. Standard procedure, you understand.”

“Oh sure, go ahead.” Lyra thought for a moment. “Actually, I’m not entirely sure what you did do to me in the first place.”

“That’s to be expected. Try to think back to last night, specifically pertaining to the incident that brought you here.”

Lyra tried, and... “I can’t! It’s all just a blur.”

“That is because I dove into your mind and removed your memories of last night. You should still be aware of what transpired, but not be able to remember details. Does that sound about right?”

“Yes, and that’s amazing! You can enter other pony’s minds? How?”

“A spell I devised during my younger years,” he replied. “One which has made me an invaluable asset to many ponies, The Vigilant Owl included.”

Lyra frowned. “Wait, you don’t... mindwipe other ponies or anything, do you?”

Dissonance grew offended. “Of course not! Never without a pony’s express permission! I am a psychologist, Miss Heartstrings; I strive to help ponies by assisting them in dealing with trauma, and in very desperate cases by removing or altering their memories directly, as I did with you. I am not some heartless machine who would violate the highest sanctuary of another living pony simply because it was ‘convenient’ to do so.”

“Oh. Good!” Clearly there was some history here; Lyra decided it best not to pry, lest she risk another such outburst. “So when you said you were valuable to the Owls, you meant...”

“You are not the first pony to come to me who had something they wanted or needed to forget,” he replied simply. “And if you ever feel the need to remember what transpired last night, I do keep copies. Although judging by your response to whatever it was, I would advise against doing so.”

Lyra shuddered. “Yeah, no, I’m good thanks.”

“Indeed. Well, it appears everything is in order; if you begin to develop chronic headaches or discover you cannot recall any information not pertaining to last night, please contact me immediately. Miss Pie knows my address.”

“Will do, Doc.”

An Owl in Canterlot 3

An Owl in Canterlot 2

“Thanks again, Doc!” Lyra called out to Dr. Dissonance as she, Pinkie, and Maud (Boulder having compressed himself into Maud’s pocket) exited his practice.

“So, now that that’s taken care of… I’m starving! Who’s up for breakfast?”

Lyra glanced at a nearby street sign. “Hey, I know this place not too far from here that does great pancakes, want to go there?”

“Ooh, Pancakes sound great! What do you think, Maud?”

“Sure.”

“Pancakes it is! Lead the way, Lyra!”

As Lyra entered the diner, she was greeted by familiar smells and familiar faces- and one familiar face in particular.

“Hey, Johnny! You still running this dump? Thought you said you were going to retire years ago!”

The older stallion looked up. “What, and let you get away with not paying that monster of a tab? I don’t think so!”

“Hey, I’ll pay! Just as soon as I get my big break!” Lyra replied in the traditional manner.

“And when that day comes, I’ll be rich enough to retire to upper Canterlot!” He guffawed loudly, Lyra joining him after a moment of trying to look offended. “Good to see you, kiddo! Where’ve you been all these years?”

Lyra pulled herself onto one of the stools at the counter; Pinkie and Maud sat to her left. “I’ve been on an extended vacation to Ponyville!”

“You call six years an extended vacation?”

“Hey, Ponyville’s a nice place! Nice neighborhoods, good ponies… Oh! This is Pinkie Pie, and this is her sister Maud. Pinkie, Maud, this is Johnnycake, maker of the finest quick breads this side of the Canterhorn.”

“You bet your right flank I am! I’m guessing you’ll want your old usual, right Lyra? What about you gals?”

“Chocolate chip! With extra syrup and whipped cream, and blueberries and strawberries on top!”

“Just plain, please.”

Johnny blinked. He leaned over the counter and stage-whispered to Lyra behind one hoof. “Are you sure they’re related?”

Lyra took a long look at the two eldronies. “Not a doubt in my mind.”

“Well, alright then,” he said, turning around to face the stove behind the counter and pulling a frying a frying pan off of a rack with his telekinesis. He talked over his shoulder as he cooked. “So, how’s village life treating you?”

“Way better than city life ever did,” she replied with a snort. “I have a house, a half-decent income, and the most beautiful marefriend in all of Equestria. You couldn’t pay me to move back!”

“Ooh, the little kiddo’s all grown up! A marefriend, huh? What’s she like?”

“She’s smart, and caring, and beautiful, and she’s an amazing cook, and…” Lyra’s happy smile turned into a grimace. “And she’s probably really mad at me right now.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something?”

Johnny snorted. “Because I’ve met you, kiddo. Now spill.”

She sighed. “I may have been keeping something a secret from her. Something really big, and…”

“Let me guess: she found out.”

“Yeah…”

Johnny turned around, levitating three large plates of pancakes over to the mares. Lyra picked up a knife and fork and cut off a large chunk of hers, swirling it around in the maple syrup before placing it into her mouth; the familiar flood of fluffy, sugary, blueberry-y goodness immediately raised her spirits.

“Mmm… Even better than I remember.”

Johnny chuckled. “Well, I try. Now, while you’re busy stuffing your face, here’s my advice: don’t worry about it. Whatever it was you did, doesn’t matter; if this gal of yours is half as good as you think she is, then she’ll forgive you. It might take a little while, but she will.

“And if she doesn’t,” he continued, “then buck her, she isn’t worth your time. Got it?”

Lyra giggled. “As wise and sagely put as if Princess Celestia herself had said it.”

“Hey, I’m trying to help you out here!”

She laughed again. “Thanks. And you’re right.”

“SECONDS PLEASE!”

The two’s conversation was interrupted by the sudden demand of Pinkie Pie, who had already wolfed down her entire stack of pancakes in the time it had taken Lyra to eat one. Maud, meanwhile, had only taken a few bites.

Johnny blinked in astonishment. “You sure they’re related?”

Maud slowly brought a morsel up to her face. Her tentacles rose up to accommodate it, revealing what looked to be a short beak.

“Pretty sure.”

“You come back soon, y’hear! I don’t want to have to wait another six years to see my favorite retirement-fund-on-legs!”

“Love you too, Johnny!” Lyra called out as the diner’s door swung closed behind her.

“Oof! I don’t think I could eat another bite!” Pinkie exclaimed. “…Well, maybe a couple. Or a couple dozen. Those were gooooood!”

“Yeah, I’ve never met anypony who made better pancakes then Johnny. What did you think, Maud?”

“They were great.” she replied. “Boulder liked them, too.”

“Indeed! They were most delicious!” Boulder affirmed from Maud’s pocket.

Pinkie looked at the sun, gauging the time. “We should probably get going if we want to get to the meeting place before Ditzy and Bon Bon do.”

“Meeting place?” Lyra asked, confused. “I figured we were going to meet them at the train station.”

“Nope, too crowded! We need somewhere nice and private for Owl business. Which is why,” Pinkie, having checked the street signs, began trotting down a side road; Lyra and Maud followed. “We’re heading to Miss Grimoire’s bookshop!”

That sounded familiar to Lyra. “Grimoire… Bookshop… You can’t mean Grimoire’s Grimoire’s?”

“That’s the one! I’m surprised you’ve heard of it!”

“I think Twilight and Moondancer dragged us there one time when we were fillies…” She thought back for a moment. “And there was an old rumor about the owner…”

“She’s immortal.” Maud announced.

“No she isn’t!” Pinkie shot back. “I keep telling you, the identity is being passed down through a long line of apprentices!”

“Occam’s Razor, Pinkie. She’s an immortal.”

“Reverse Occam’s Razor, Maud! Immortality is too simple!”

“You lost me.”

Pinkie craned her neck around to look at Lyra. “Dusty Grimoire is the owner of Grimoire’s Grimoire’s, and she’s reeeeaaalllly old. Like, a few centuries old, at least! Older than Vinyl!”

“Oh, okay.” Lyra nodded. “Why’s that?”

“Nooooopony knooowwws!” Pinkie said in a spooky tone. “But we all have our theories. Maud thinks she’s just an immortal— which she isn’t! I say she’s an assumed identity taken over by a new pony once the current one gets too old. ‘Tavi’s pretty sure she’s a golem of some sort, Ditzy thinks she’s a god in disguise, and Bell’s certain she’s some sort of alien. Pretty much everyone in the Owls has a different explanation, and there’s this huge betting pool about it.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

“If we did that, it would ruin the game!” Pinkie replied, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Duh!”

There was a short lull in the conversation as the three navigated the streets.

“So, Maud,” Lyra said, looking to break the silence. “How did you and Boulder meet?”

“Ooh, Maud LOVES telling this story!” Pinkie squealed.

Maud cleared her throat. “It was a dark and stormy night. Little did I know my life was about to change forever…”

An Owl in Canterlot 4

An Owl in Canterlot 3

“…And after Pinkie disrupted the hypnotic field, Boulder and I led the freed shoggoths against their former master. While Nhymestl was powerful, he could not stand for long against our numbers. And thus he fled to the outer reaches, never to return.” Maud said, ending her story.

“That’s incredible!”

“Ooh, ooh! Over there!” Pinkie stopped to point at a pair of ponies shopping nearby.

“Oh, Fancy Pants? Y’know, they say he’s the only half-decent noblepony in all of Canterlot.”

“They aren’t entirely wrong, and no, I mean his wife, Fleur Dis Lee!”

Lyra looked at the lithe white unicorn, who trotted so close to her husband that they were touching flanks. “What about her?”

“She’s an Owl!” Pinkie whispered.

“She’s an Owl!?” Lyra hissed back.

“Mm-hmm! Graceful Huntress. She may not look like it, but she’s the latest in a long line of monster hunters!”

“I once watched her take down a Timberwolf Rex using only her rapier,” Maud added. “It took her less than a minute.”

“Does Fancy know?”

Pinkie giggled. “Hasn’t got a clue!” The three began walking again.

“Wow. Next you’ll be telling me Hoity Toity fights ghosts or something— He doesn’t, does he?”

Pinkie giggled. “That prissy pony? No way! All the ghosts would have to do is get a little ectoplasm in his mane, and he’d be too distracted trying to fix it to stop them!”

Lyra laughed, somewhat relieved. She had been half expecting—

“And besides, that’s Photo Finish’s job! Oh, we’re here!”

The bookshop was fairly typical in appearance; large windows, their sills packed with books both old and new, revealed an interior just as crammed with bookshelves. A wooden sign over the door read ‘Grimoire’s Grimoires’, and in a smaller font below that, ‘Books Bought and Sold’.

Pinkie pushed open the door and led them into the shop, which was crammed with bookshelves from floor to ceiling.

“Miss Grimoire! Are you here?”

“Is that Pinkie Pie I hear?” From behind the bookshelves emerged a unicorn who looked old enough to be Lyra’s grandmother. The mare’s light blue coat seemed to sag off of her frame in places, her grey-white mane was pulled back into a tight bun. A pair of dark green eyes peered out over a pair of spectacles, the kind typical of librarians and bibliophiles; despite her apparent age, those eyes held within them a sharp intelligence. “And Maud too! How are you, dearies?”

“Good, Miss Grimoire!” The two replied, Pinkie with enthusiasm and Maud in her typical monotone.

“So, what brings you girls to my shop today?” she asked, eyeing Lyra. “Business or pleasure?”

“Business! We need to use the meeting room.”

“Oh, so you don’t have anything for me today? A pity; I did so enjoy the last one you brought me. I assume she’s one of us then?”

“Yes in-deedy!”

Miss Grimoire turned to face Lyra. “Very nice to meet you, dear. Dusty Grimoire, Librarian of the Forbidden. If you ever come across any odd, dangerous, or magical tomes in your work, you can bring them to me for safekeeping.”

“Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker. Pleased to meet you, Miss Grimoire. And, I may have already—” Lyra cut herself short, catching the frantic gesture Pinkie was making behind Grimoire’s back. “Uhh… Never mind.”

Pinkie breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then straightened up when Miss Grimoire turned back to face her. Dusty levitated a keyring over to the pink mare. “Well, here you go; should I be expecting anypony else?”

“Just Ditzy Doo and a non-Owl named Bon Bon. They should be here in the next half-hour or so.”

“Okay, I’ll send them back when they get here.”

“Thanks, Miss Grimoire!”

The mare chuckled. “Oh, it’s no problem at all, dear, you know that.”

The three made their way through the maze of bookshelves, pushing their way into a hallway at the back of the shop. Pinkie inserted the key into the third door on the right, unlocking it and gesturing for the others to enter.

The room was small and mostly empty, apart from a few chairs and a large wooden table that took up most of the center of the space. Pinkie leapt into the chair at the head of the table; Maud climbed into the chair to her left. Lyra followed suit, sitting across from Maud so that she was facing the door.

And they waited.

They didn’t have to wait very long. The door swung open, revealing Ditzy Doo, who walked into the room without saying a word. She was shortly followed by Bon Bon, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her curly mane and tail were disheveled, and large bags had formed under her eyes. As she stood in the doorway, her eyes swept the room; when they found Lyra, a look of relief flooded her face. Running forward, she leapt over the table and into Lyra, pulling her into a deep hug. “Oh, thank Celestia, You’re okay, I was so worried, I thought—”

Lyra reciprocated the hug, wrapping her forelegs around Bon Bon’s neck. “It’s okay Bonnie. I’m okay!”

The two held this pose for a few more moments before Bon Bon let go and took a step back.

“Look, Bonnie,” Lyra began, “I know you must have a lot of-“

Bon Bon’s hoof made a loud *SMACK* as it collided with Lyra’s face. This being Bon Bon, ex-secret agent and still-very-fit-despite-having-retired-and-become-a-candy-maker-thank-you-very-much, it hurt. A lot.

“Oww… Okay, I probably deserved that, but…” Lyra said, wincing. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

“You… complete… IDIOT! What were you thinking?! From what Pinkie said last night, it sounds like you KNEW what was going to be out there yesterday! Why on EQUIS would you run out there knowing that those… those monsters would be out there!? Do you have no sense of self-preservation!?”

“Okay, first of all, those ‘monsters’ were eldritch abominations. Pinkie’s kind.” Lyra corrected.

“It’s true!” Pinkie interjected.

“AND YOU!” Bon Bon yelled, turning her wrath upon the pink eldrony, who visibly flinched under her gaze. “I know you’re responsible for all of this! All Ditzy would tell me on the train ride was that you would explain everything when I got here! So whatever it is you filled Lyra’s head with that made her PUT HER LIFE AT RISK last night, it’d better be good! Because so help me Celestia, I will bring you down if it is anything less than—“

“It was for YOU, BON BON!”

The candymaker fell silent, turning to look towards Lyra in shock.

“Yes, I knew what was going on. Pinkie herself specifically warned me about going outside, because of my ability. I knew exactly what was at stake if I left the house.”

“Then why—”

“And it’s because I knew that,” Lyra continued, “That I had to follow you. Because I knew what was going on, and you didn’t. I had no idea what the situation was at the time; for all I knew one of Pinkie’s cousins had decided to rampage across town. But what I did know was that neither of us could handle it.”

“But—”

“Your training wouldn’t have done any good,” Lyra interrupted, ignoring Bon Bon’s panicked look at the mention of her previous life around the others, “against a being which defies your very worldview! Pinkie and Maud, on the other hoof, have been dealing with the eldritch since they were fillies. They’re part eldritch themselves! I trust them to handle any situation involving anything that you and I can’t comprehend.”

“Then why did you follow me?”

“To protect you!” Lyra cried. “I knew what we were dealing with, so I had to stop you! Because I didn’t want to lose you if something went wrong! Because I couldn’t live with myself if I stayed behind and the next morning you came back a gibbering wreck, or worse! Even if it meant risking my own sanity!”

“But— But!“

“And—” Lyra stopped, and looked to Pinkie for confirmation. Pinkie, sensing Lyra’s intent, nodded.

She swallowed. Time to bite the bullet.

“And… It’s my job.”

Whitechapel Vigilance 1

An Owl in Canterlot 4

“Your… job?” Bon Bon asked, confused. “Lyra, last I checked, you were a lyrist.”

“And I used to think you were just a candymaker. You aren’t the only one with secrets, Bonnie.”

Bon Bon winced. “Would you stop bringing that up!” she hissed, her eyes darting towards the others.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about us,” Ditzy said, grinning mischievously. “Miss Drops.”

Her eyes grew wide. “How— How could you possibly know about that?” She looked towards Lyra, worry and suspicion playing across her features. “Did you tell them?! Please tell me you didn’t tell them!”

Pinkie spoke up. “We’ve known since before you retired. We did used to be in the same line of work, after all.”

“The same line of work?”

“Protecting Equestria,” Pinkie answered, slipping into a serious tone. “In secret. Hunting monsters. Fighting evil. Making sure hidden things stay hidden and sealed things stay sealed. Keeping ponies safe from things they were not meant to see, so they can go about their lives without living in constant fear.

“Every pony in this room besides you is a member of a secret, underground network of ponies, and other creatures, who work from the shadows to keep Equestria safe from things that nopony else can deal with.”

“What do you mean, ‘nopony else can deal with’? We have a royal guard for a reason—”

“You of all ponies should know that we can’t rely on the guard for everything! What would the guard have done last night? Or the royal mages? Or the Wonderbolts? They don’t have the knowledge or experience necessary to deal with things like that. We do.”

“But you’re just civilians!”

“We just want to keep everypony safe and smiling.” Pinkie said. “And if we have to work to do that ourselves, then so be it.”

“But— I—” Bon Bon fell back into a chair. “I… need a minute to think about all this.”

A tense silence filled the room. Lyra began to worry, but then she noticed Ditzy Doo was smiling. Can’t be too bad, then.

At last, Bon Bon broke the silence. “Well, I guess I’m coming out of retirement. How do I become a member?”

“What!?” Lyra cried.

“Well, somepony has to be around to keep this idiot out of trouble, right?” she said, gesturing to Lyra.

“Hey!”

“I was hoping you would say that. We could always use a mare of your talents.” Pinkie said, attempting to keep up her serious façade despite her huge smiles.

“So, how do I join? Is there a ritual, or an oath, or…?”

“No need. Welcome to the Vigilant Owl, Mare in Black.”

There was a long, dramatic pause.

“…Mare in Black?”

“No, Mare in Black. It’s your moniker, a codename of sorts. Kind of similar to mine and Maud’s, actually.” Pinkie giggled.

“But why Mare in Black? I don’t think I’ve ever worn a suit in my life…”

“…It was the best Maud and I could come up with on such short notice. Time for introductions! Pinkamena Diane Pie, Queen in Pink.”

Maud introduced herself next. “Maudlin Elizabeth Pie, Queen in Grey.”

“Ditzy Doo, Chronovoyant.”

Finally, it was Lyra’s turn. “Lyra Heartstrings, Truthseeker. And, Bonnie— Thanks.”

Before Bon Bon could say anything, Pinkie interrupted. “Now, the next thing you need to learn is the greeting…”

Origins: The Bat

Whitechapel Vigilance 1

Lyra was shaken awake by a somewhat-irate looking Bon Bon. “Lyra! Wake up!”

“…All right, I’m awake…” she sat up in the bed and shook her head back and forth for a moment in a failed attempt to clear out the cobwebs. “What’s going on?”

“That DJ pony,” she stated, “has been standing across the street from our house trying to look inconspicuous for the past half hour.”

Lyra rubbed her eyes. “So?”

“So, I went outside to confront her about it, but she wandered off when she saw me coming. And then she was back a few minutes later! You’re her friend, right? Do you have any idea what she could be up to?”

Lyra sighed, and dragged herself out of bed fully. “I’ll go ask her.” She wandered over to the door.

“Ask her? I thought she was mute?”

“Only mostly,” Lyra replied as she stumbled out of the room.

Vinyl noticibly straightened as Lyra exited the storefront and crossed the street.

Finally! I’ve been waiting here for, like, two hours! Lyra heard in her head as she approached the vampire.

“Vinyl, why are you stalking our house?”

I was waiting for you!

“You could have just come in and asked Bon Bon to get me!” A thought struck her. She glanced around to make sure nopony was within earshot. “Or do you need to be invited in first?”

She snorted. Don’t be stupid.

“Well, why not then?”

I’m not going in there with her. Vinyl gestured at the store as she thought this; Lyra could hear the venom on ‘her’.

“Wait, you’re still afraid of Bon Bon? You know she joined the Owls, right?”

That doesn’t change anything.

“For Celestia’s sake, Vinyl, she doesn’t bite!”

Oh, har-har.

Lyra facehoofed. Deciding it was too early in the morning to deal with this tactfully, she decided to take drastic measures. Lighting her horn, she wrapped the DJ’s purple shades in her telekinesis and yanked them off her head.

Vinyl winced, her magenta eyes squinting against the morning sun. HEY!

Lyra paid her no mind, darting back across the street with the glasses in tow. After a moment, she heard Vinyl’s hoofbeats behind her, but she made it through the shop’s door. Bon Bon looked up from behind the counter as Lyra shot into the store and ran over to her. A moment later, the door banged open as a very angry Vinyl barged in.

What’s the big idea!? I wear those glasses for a REASON, you know- Vinyl froze in place as her watering eyes met Bon Bon’s confused gaze. Ohhhhhh crap.

“Vinyl Scratch, meet Bon Bon,” Lyra said with a grin. “Bonnie, this is Vinyl Scratch.”

Don’t-

“She’s a vampire.”

For a moment, nopony moved. Then, in an instant, Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. She leaped on top of the counter and readied herself to attack. “Lyra, get behind me,” she commanded.

“Wait—”

Vinyl responded by dropping into a low stance, as if she were a cat preparing to pounce. She bared her long fangs visibly and emitted a guttural screech.

Bon Bon snorted in response. “What, no last minute speech? No elaborate threats? I’m disappointed.” Her eyes flicked over to Lyra for a split second. “Lyra. Now.”

Lyra made sure to stand directly in between the two, despite her every instinct yelling at her to run. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought. On the plus side, she was now very much awake.

“N-Now, hold on! Bonnie—”

“Lyra, get out of my way.”

“She’s vegetarian! And my friend! I can vouch for her!”

“Her kind are masters of deceit and trickery. Whatever she’s told you, she is NOT your friend.”

Lyra scoffed. “Truthseeker, remember? I can’t be lied to!”

“Then she found a way!”

“You’re being stupid, and you know it!” Lyra admonished. “Both of you are! Now calm down, and let’s talk about this like civilized ponies.”

“That is not a pony—”

“BON BON!” She looked into her marefriend’s eyes. “Please, just trust me. I promise, she’s okay.”

The two continued to hold their stances for a few more tense seconds. Abruptly, Vinyl broke the stare, returning to a more relaxed position. After a moment, Bon Bon did the same, slipping back down from the counter. Her distrustful gaze, however, remained solidly fixed upon the vampire.

Lyra let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. She levitated the DJ’s shades back over to her; she slipped them on immediately. She then flipped the sign on the door to closed.

“Okay. So, Vinyl, what’s up?”

I… have a request. A friend of mine is in trouble with the Society, and I think your ability might be able to help her.

“The Society?”

The Société de la Sanguine, Vinyl explained. The vampire sect of the underground.

“Ah, gotcha.”

“Excuse me,” Bon Bon interrupted. “How exactly are you communicating?”

“You can’t hear…?” It clicked. “Vinyl!”

Just because she isn’t trying to kill me doesn’t mean I trust her.

Lyra glared at her.

Fine! Hello, Bon Bon.

“Telepathy?” Bon Bon glared at Vinyl suspiciously. “If you try anything-“

“SO,” Lyra interrupted, “how can I help?”

I need you, Vinyl began, to help me catch a murderer.

Whitechapel Vigilance 2

Origins: The Bat

Panting from the exertion, the once proud vampire dragged herself along the dirt road, her alabaster coat marred with cuts and wounds, her rear legs bent at odd angles.

Within her mind, she screamed, the mixture of panic and fear consuming her thoughts.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was a vampire, a predator; ponies lived so that she could feast. And she had been thirsty.

So, the one the ponies feared as the Bloody Queen had gone hunting.

Subtlety had been ignored as she had galloped into the village and announced her presence. She was a vampire, and her kills numbered in the hundreds; she had nothing to fear from mere mortals. The Queen would spend the night reveling as she drained every last drop of life from its inhabitants, as she had so many times before.

But the bastards had been waiting for her. In her hubris, she had underestimated their cleverness; before the break of dawn she had been caught in their trap, had her horn broken, been shackled to an iron frame, and been placed on display in the middle of the town.

Even then, she had not worried; she had taunted them, threatened them, described in graphic detail exactly what would happen to them once she had escaped.

And so they had forced her mouth open and carved out her tongue, cauterizing the wound with hot coals forced down her throat; it would not grow back, no matter how much blood she drank.

And, for the first time since her turning, the one known as the Bloody Queen had felt fear.

What had followed was a week of starvation, torture, and humiliation. Weakened by her hunger, she could do nothing as the passers-by had insulted and spit on her, as the children had pelted her with stones, as the blacksmith had broken her legs with his tools. As time went on, the wounds had stopped healing.

Then, on the seventh day, her luck had changed. The idiotic drunkard had made a poor meal, but it had been just enough for the Queen to break her limbs free. In the dark hours of the early morning, she had fled that place, her still useless legs dragging limply behind her as she dragged herself away.

But the sun had risen hours ago; they would be searching for her. And she was at the very end of her strength. Her legs ached; her chest burned, and the hunger ate at her from within.

Finally, her body could take the abuse no longer; she pitched forward, her vision filling with black as her consciousness faded away, taking the pain with it.

She awoke to the feeling of a warm liquid flowing into her mouth. A coppery smell filled her nostrils. Instincts taking over, she drank greedily, gulping down the blood until no more followed.

Invigorated by the meal, the Queen opened her eyes. She appeared to be in a small hut, or a cottage; it was modestly furnished, mostly populated with simple furniture, but filled with flowers, vines, and other plants.

And before her, holding a red-stained bowl, stood a pale-brown pegasus pony.

The Queen attempted to stand, only for the pony to intervene. “No, no,” she said in a soft voice. “You need to rest those legs if you want them to heal right.” Looking down, she saw that her rear legs had been tied to splints and bandaged. Now curious, she checked over the rest of herself. The many cuts and wounds she had endured had been treated, some with simple wrappings, others with a green, organic-looking paste.

Her tongue, however, remained gone.

She turned her attention back to the pony, who was setting the bowl down on a nearby table. “You’re lucky I found you,” she said. “You looked like you were about to die!” She turned back to the Queen, smiling at her, as if relieved that she had saved the life of one who would have gladly destroyed her.

It was then that the Queen noticed the bandage, tinged slightly crimson, wrapped around the pony’s foreleg.

She tried to speak, but with no tongue and parts of her vocal cords burned away, all that came out was a garbled mess of half-sounds and wheezes.

“I’m sorry,” the pony spoke up again, sounding genuinely sad; her face was pained. “There was nothing I could do.”

The Queen thought for a moment. With a burst of inspiration, she mimed the act of writing. The pony seemed to get the idea, leaving for a few seconds before returning with a writing slate and a piece of chalk. The Queen attempted to pick up the chalk with her magic, but found that her horn was still non-functioning; undeterred, she took it in her mouth and frantically scribbled down a single word:

Why?

“Whatever do you mean?”

She gestured to herself, then to her bared fangs, then to the bandage on the pony’s leg, and finally back to the word on the slate.

Why?

“Why did I save you?” The Queen nodded in affirmation. “Why shouldn’t I have?”

The vampire bared her fangs again.

“Why should that make a difference?” the pony queried. “You needed my help.”

The Queen didn’t understand, she couldn’t. How could a pony treat someone like her with compassion? Especially when, had their roles been reversed, she would have had none?

Picking up the slate once more, she erased her previous question and replaced it with a new one:

Name?

“Flutterholly,” the pegasus replied. “And what is yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She began to write.

Bloody Q-

She stopped, frowning. For a few moments, she sat there, staring at the slate.

Then, she erased the board once more, and began to write a different name.

Virtuosa Scratch.

Vinyl.

Whitechapel Vigilance 3

Whitechapel Vigilance 2

Lyra sat aboard the express train to Manehatten, mulling over the events of yesterday in her mind.

Lyra and Bon Bon drew back in shock. “A murderer!?” they shouted.

Yes, Vinyl replied grimly.

“But there hasn’t been a murder in Equestria in… in decades!” Bon Bon cried. “If there were, it would have been all over the papers!”

It’s being kept quiet, Vinyl replied. And it hasn’t been just one.

“What… What do you mean?” Lyra asked, not sure if she wanted the answer.

There have been eight victims so far.

Lyra fought back the bile that bubbled up from her throat; Bon Bon grew serious.

“How did they die?”

That’s the problem. Each one died from extreme blood loss, through a cut in the neck. The bodies were found completely drained of blood.

“Well then, I think it’s fairly obvious what you should be looking for.”

No! Vinyl stamped her hoof. This isn’t the work of a vampire!

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

Because the fourth victim, Crystal Cup, was a vampire. Drinking the blood of another vampire is incredibly dangerous to us, but she was drained like the rest of them.

“That would be an excellent way for a vampire to cover their tracks." Vinyl shot her an angry glare. "And even if we assume it isn't one of yours, what makes you so sure it was a pony responsible?"

The murders all took place in Manehatten. If it had been some sort of monster—

"Somepony would have seen it by now. What if it's a shapeshifter?"

Then that's one more reason to bring Lyra along.

“What does this have to do with your friend?” asked Lyra.

Vinyl sighed. Snowbound. With Crystal Cup dead, she’s the only other vampire who was living in Manehattan at the time of the murders, among other things; some of the Society’s bigwigs think she’s behind it, and they’re pressing the council to take action.

A look of fierceness came over her features. But I’ve known Snowbound for a long time; she couldn’t hurt a fly! There’s no way it’s her!

“What will they do if they decide she’s responsible?”

The traditional punishment: stuff her in an iron coffin, seal it, and dump it in the ocean.

Lyra paled.

A sudden jolt to the train car shook Lyra out of her memories. She took a look out the window; the skyscrapers of their destination were outlined against the light of the morning sky. Lyra had not been to Manehatten since she was a filly; under any other circumstances she would have relished the chance to visit the city that never sleeps. Unfortunately, she was here for business, not pleasure; and a rather grim business at that.

A loud snore erupted form the pony on the seat across from her, drawing the irritated glares of a few of their fellow passengers. There, sprawled across the bench and thoroughly unconscious, was Vinyl Scratch, headphones on and blaring music despite their owner being unable to hear it.

Lyra turned to the mare sitting beside her. “Do you think we should wake her up?”

“I think I’d prefer it if she stayed asleep,” Bon Bon replied, casting an unpleasant look at their travelling companion.

“And what exactly do you want the two of us to do about it?” Bon Bon asked.

I’m not asking you to do anything, Vinyl replied, hostility in her mental voice. I only want Lyra’s help.

“If you think for one second I’m going to let Lyra waltz out of town with a Celestia-forsaken vampire without my protection, then you must be going senile.”

And if you think for one second that I’m going to bring a hunter into Society business, then you need to lay off the sweets, because clearly they’re not just going to your flanks!

Lyra massaged her temple with a hoof. “Would you two knock it off?” She looked towards the vampire. “Vinyl, I’m sorry, but I would prefer it if she came. Besides, she’s supposed to accompany me on Owl business for the time being. Pinkie’s orders.”

Ngh… fine. But I’m not happy about it, and I’m not letting her anywhere near Snowbound.

“And if it turns out that she’s responsible?” asked Bon Bon.

She. Didn’t. Do it! Vinyl yelled, stomping her hoof for emphasis.

“It’s a deal,” Lyra said, preventing another round of arguing. “What do you need us to do?”

The three mares stepped off the train, their luggage balanced on their backs.

What struck Lyra first was the bustle; even in the train station there was a crowd. Ponies rushed back and forth, pushing their way past each other to get to their destinations. Over to one side, several vendors had set up shop, selling newspapers and snacks. Noise filled the air, a cloud of ambient chatter that filled her ears.

Perhaps it was just because she had grown accustomed to Ponyville, but Lyra found it all a bit overwhelming. Not bad, necessarily, but a bit much.

Vinyl, on the other hoof, was ecstatic.

Aww yeah, it’s good to be back, she cried out over the psychic link as they made their way to the exit. I love Ponyville, but this city always feels so alive!

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen the appeal…” Bon Bon muttered as she fought her way through the crowd.

“Which way’s the hotel, Vinyl?”

This way, follow me! It’s only a few blocks from here. We can drop our bags off, and then I’ll take you to see Snowbound.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival at the top floor of the apartment complex. Lyra followed Vinyl into the spacious hallway; Bon Bon had been left at their hotel, albeit unhappily.

A few twists and turns later, and Vinyl stopped in front of a door: 522. Raising a hoof, she gave the door three hard knocks. After a moment, the door was answered by a tan-colored earth pony mare with a braided red mane.

Hey, Rosa!

“Oh, Vinyl! Come in, come in!” She ushered them inside, closing and locking the door behind them. “And you are?”

“Lyra Heartstrings, nice to meet you.”

She’s going to help me clear Snowbound’s name.

“Oh, thank goodness! She’s been so worried these past few days, I can tell.” She gave Lyra a smile.

“Well, I can’t promise I’ll be much help, but I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all anypony can ask for, Miss Heartstrings. I’ll go fetch Snowbound.”

She trotted off, leaving Vinyl and Lyra standing in the apartment’s main room. Lyra took the chance to observe her surroundings.

The apartment was spacious and brightly colored, with the walls painted a soft white. The room’s large windows were covered by thin cream-colored curtains, which blocked out the direct sunlight but still left the apartment bright and cheerful.

What struck Lyra the most, however, were the bookshelves. Towering things of stained wood, they took up most of the walls of the living room. What’s more, they were all packed to bursting with novels; often there were extra books piled in front or to the sides of the shelves where there was no more room. Some of the books looked brand-new— and, Lyra noted, some of them were— but many had the creased spines and earmarked pages of repeated readings.

Her perusal of the shelves was interrupted by the Rosa’s return, with another pony following her.

“Hello, Vinyl. How have you been?”

Not bad. But I’m more worried about you, Snowbound.

Lyra hadn’t really known what to expect in regards Vinyl’s vampire friend, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Whitechapel Vigilance 4

Whitechapel Vigilance 3

She’s just a filly!

Indeed, Snowbound looked to be only a few years older than Winter Bell. The diminutive pegasus possessed a light grey coat and a long cyan mane which hung like a curtain down to her knees. Her large mulberry eyes looked at Lyra with curiosity.

“Who’s this?”

This is Lyra Heartstrings. She’s a friend of mine from Ponyville, and a member of the Vigilant Owl.

“Nice to meet you, Snowbound.”

“Likewise. An Owl, hmm? I don’t suppose you would know a stallion by the name of Silver Lining, would you?”

“Sorry, I’m afraid not.” Lyra said. “But I haven’t been with the Owls for very long.”

“Oh, that’s a shame; he helped me out with a bit of trouble I was involved in some time ago. Well, he’s likely to have passed on by now anyway… May I ask for your moniker?”

“It’s Truthseeker.”

She’s like a living lie detector, Vinyl added. I figured that could come in handy.

“Well, thank you for coming.” She flew up onto one of the sofas in the room, and motioned for the others to do the same. “I’m afraid you may be too late, however.”

“What do you mean?” Lyra asked as she took a seat in her customary upright position, Vinyl laying down next to her.

“There’s been another murder.”

Lyra’s blood ran cold.

What!? But you said the last one was only a few days ago!

Snowbound sighed. “Unfortunately so; I got a message from the Lieutenant only a half-hour ago saying the police had found another body, and that he would come and inform me of the situation as soon as he got the chance. You could stay until he gets here, if you’d like. He shouldn’t be long.” Seeing their nods of affirmation, she turned to Rosa. “Would you mind making tea, Rosa?”

“Not at all.” She trotted off to the kitchen.

“Is Octavia well? I confess, I’m surprised you didn’t bring her along as well.”

Tavi’s performing in Vanhoover right now; she’s not back until next Tuesday. But actually…

The two vampires began catching up; Lyra took the moment to gather her thoughts.

A ninth victim… It just seems so impossible. What kind of pony could do something like this?

Her mind conjured up the image of an evil sorcerer, slit eyes glinting with madness beneath a pitch black hood as he prepared a helpless pony for sacrifice.

That could explain the blood loss, actually, if it was a reagent for some sort of spell… Is that how that works? Can you even use pony blood in spells, or is that a myth?

Well, there must be some reason the victims are drained, right? What can you use blood for? Transfusions? Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with any other uses for pony blood.

Snowbound’s voice stirred her from her musings. “So, Miss Heartstrings. Tell me about yourself.”

“Actually, could I ask you a question first? I’d like to get this out of the way.”

“Oh, certainly.”

“As Vinyl mentioned earlier, I’m able to tell when a pony is lying,” Lyra said. “I just want to confirm your innocence, so I’ll ask: are you responsible for the death of any of the victims?”

“No; I had nothing to do with these murders,” Snowbound said with confidence.

Lyra waited a moment, and when her blessing failed to activate, she smiled. “Okay! You’re clean.”

Snowbound smiled back. “Good; I’d hate for there to be any doubt. Now, I believe I was asking about you?”

“Oh, there’s not much to tell, really.”

She pouted slightly. “Come now, there must be something. Judging by your cutie mark, I assume you’re an instrumentalist?”

Lyra nodded. “I play the lyre.”

“Do you do that professionally?”

“Yes.”

“Concerts?” she asked, cocking her head to the side slightly.

“No, mostly events. Birthdays, weddings… funerals. What about you? This place can’t be cheap.”

She chuckled. “I play the stock market, mostly; I’ve also been known to dabble in writing.”

It was at this point that Rosa returned, a tray with five teacups balanced on her back. Lyra thanked her before levitating a teacup and saucer over to herself from the tray.

“Oh yeah? Anything I would have heard of?" she asked, taking a sip of the tea. While definitely more of a coffee pony, Lyra had spent enough time in Canterlot to learn to appreciate Princess Celestia’s favorite beverage.

Vinyl grinned. Ever read A Hearth’s Warming Tale?

Lyra nearly choked on her tea in an effort not to spray it all over her host’s carpet; Vinyl began laughing.

“You wrote A Hearth’s Warming Tale!?”

“It’s not that big of a deal…” Snowbound said, blushing. “Besides, Vinyl was the one who gave me the idea.”

Hey, I only told you about a Hearth’s Warming’s Eve party I ran the music for once! You’re the one who came up with the story.

“Wow…” Lyra leaned back into the sofa’s cushions. “You know, that’s Princess Twilight’s favorite Hearth’s Warming story.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Though she seemed to be trying to hide it, Snowbound was beaming with pride. “Do you know the princess, then?”

“Oh, everypony in Ponyville knows Twilight Sparkle. Plus, we were friends when we were fillies. She used to read that story to me and our other friends every year.”

A knock at the door ended their conversation. Rosa put down her teacup and went to answer the door.

“Ah, Lieutenant Cuffs! Come in, we’ve been expecting you. Your tea’s over there, on the table.”

“Thank you, Rosa.”

Lieutenant Cuffs was a grey unicorn with a curly brown mane and a pair of hoofcuffs for a cutie mark. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. Despite the several open seats on offer, he remained standing, holding his teacup beside him with his magic.

“Afternoon, Snowbound. I assume you got my message?”

“Good afternoon to you as well, Lieutenant; I did indeed. Oh, before we begin, I’d like to introduce Vinyl Scratch and Lyra Heartstrings. They’ve offered their assistance in clearing up this situation.”

He nodded his greetings to the two of them. “Well, If you think you can help, by all means do so; we certainly aren’t getting anywhere on our own, and the bodies are piling up.”

“Your note said that there had been another victim. Is it true?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We got called in early this morning; some dock workers spotted something floating in the East River.” He sighed. “Again.”

“Could you describe the condition of the body?” Snowbound asked. “Spare no details.”

“It was wrapped up pretty tight in a plastic sheet, the sort painters put down to catch drips; it kept the body dry. She was a pegasus mare, yellow coat and brown mane, and a paintbrush for a cutiemark. We’re still waiting on an ID. Cause of death was almost certainly blood loss through the deep cut across her throat. No blood, on her or on the plastic.”

"Wait,” Lyra interrupted. “Her throat was cut?”

He nodded. “Likely with a knife of some kind; it was very clean.”

“Shouldn’t that automatically rule out vampirism?”

“Normally, yes. Unfortunately…” Snowbound pulled back her lips and displayed her teeth, revealing two large gaps where her fangs would have been; the gums around them were blackened and dead-looking.

“Why— What happened?”

“I pulled them out a long time ago.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want to hurt anypony else,” she replied simply. Lyra noticed Vinyl wince slightly out of the side of her vision at the statement. “However, it seems my good intentions have now made me the perfect suspect.”

A moment of silence passed, before it was interrupted by Vinyl. Lyra, ask him about the other victims.

“What can you tell us about the others?”

“Well…”

Whitechapel Vigilance 5

Whitechapel Vigilance 4

“There have been eight other victims, all found under similar circumstances. The first was a unicorn by the name of Glorious Dawn; at first we thought it was some kind of freak accident, but then we found the second victim, Flash Fire, a week and a half later. A week after that was Biscuit Break, then Crystal Cup a few days after her, Nimbus Chaser, Tea Time, Heavy Load, Sun Streamer, Mountain Carpet two days ago, and now this new mare.”

“And all of these ponies were found the same way, wrapped in plastic and dumped in the river with their throats cut?” Lyra asked.

“Yes.”

Lyra felt the familiar tingle of her blessing run down her spine. “That’s not true— are you absolutely sure they were all exactly the same?”

“Well…” He took a sip from his teacup as he thought. “Mountain Carpet didn’t have the sheet.”

Just an accidental lie of omission, then— probably nothing to worry about.

Any connection between them? Vinyl asked; Lyra relayed the question.

“Not that anypony on the force has been able to find.” He snorted. “Probably would’ve caught the guy already if there were any. Most of them were unicorn mares, though. Heavy load and Mountain Carpet were both earth ponies, and Nimbus Chaser was a pegasus. Carpet was the only stallion.”

Suspects?

“Do you have any suspects?”

“Several; friends and family of the deceased, mostly, but we’ve investigated them all and found nothing. I can get you a list of names and addresses, as long as you don’t tell anypony who you got it from.”

“Anything you can give us would be appreciated.”

The lieutenant took one last drink from his teacup, and returned the empty cup to its saucer. “Alright, I can make copies of what I can and have them here by tomorrow afternoon. Now, I’d best get going before anypony notices my absence; as always, this meeting never happened.” He began walking towards the door.

“Wait, one more question.”

He stopped and turned to face Lyra. “Yes?” he asked, impatience in his voice.

“Do you… Do you have any idea what their reason could be? I just can’t imagine why anypony would do something like this.”

“At this point? I’m starting to think they’re just doing it because they can get away with it, and I hope to Celestia that I’m wrong.”

“Hey, Lyra. How was the visit?”

Lyra shut their hotel room door behind her, and trotted over to the bed where Bon Bon lay curled up with a novel. Climbing onto the bed, she sat beside her marefriend.

“It was… informative. How much of it were you able to hear?”

Bon Bon’s eyes widened. “You spotted me following you? I must be more out of practice than I thought…”

“No, I just know you well enough to guess that you wouldn’t leave me unguarded around ponies you thought were dangerous. And you’re holding that book upside-down,” Lyra said with a giggle.

Bon Bon looked down at the book in her hooves, then face-hoofed as she realized that Lyra was correct.

“Of all the amateurish mistakes…”

“Aww, it’s okay.” Lyra said, nudging her with her shoulder playfully. “You’ll always be the best retired secret agent ever to me.”

Bon Bon smiled, then leaned over to give Lyra a quick nuzzle. “That’s semi-retired now.”

“My mistake.”

The two sat like that for a while, enjoying the moment. Eventually, Bon Bon broke the silence.

“What did happen at the meeting? I wasn’t able to hear much through the door.”

Lyra summarized what had occurred during her visit with Snowbound, taking care to emphasize the part where she had solidified the filly vampire’s innocence.

“…and we left not too long after he did,” she finished.

Bon Bon let out a long exhale as she processed the new information. “Nine victims, and no leads…”

“Yeah… I can’t help but feel we’re in over our heads,” Lyra said, rolling onto her back. “I mean, if the professionals couldn’t find anything, then what are we supposed to do?”

“Actually, as cynical as it sounds, I wouldn’t recommend putting much stock in the ability of the police.”

Lyra blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Back when I was with the Agency, we would often have to work with the local law enforcement while on assignment; it was standard procedure.” Her eyes narrowed. “It was also very frustrating, since they usually just got in the way.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s important to remember that most police officers are trained mainly in crowd control and arrest techniques, and most of the cases detectives deal with are limited to petty theft. In this sort of situation? They’re just as in over their heads as we are.” She thought for a moment. “Actually, more so.”

“Why’s that?” Lyra asked.

“Well, for starters, we have you and your blessing; that’s a pretty big advantage, especially if we can come up with some suspects. Then there’s Vinyl. As much as I hate to admit it, her enhanced senses as a vampire will likely be useful, at least for evidence gathering.”

“What about you?”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I was a fully-trained field operative. I have the advantage of experience.”

“Yeah? And what’s your experience telling you?”

“It’s telling me that if the police couldn’t find any clues working at this problem directly, then we need to attack it from a different angle.” Bon Bon rolled off the bed and began pacing up and down the length of the hotel room. “Personally, I think we should focus on any information we have that they didn’t.”

Lyra followed her back and forth with her eyes, enraptured. This was a side of Bon Bon— or, perhaps more accurately in this case, of Sweetie Drops— that she had never gotten to fully experience before, and it fascinated her.

“Particularly,” Bon Bon continued, “the fact that one of the victims was a vampire. Vampires are very difficult to subdue, something I know from personal experience. Assuming they’ve been feeding, they have the advantage in strength and agility, and their senses are heightened as well. The implications of one turning up dead are worrying, to say the least.”

Something in Bon Bon’s speech caught Lyra’s attention. “So you have fought vampires before!”

“Only once. It was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life.” Her tone carried an edge of finality that dissuaded Lyra from asking more questions about the past. Instead, she focused on the present.

“How do you kill a vampire, anyway? Stake through the heart? Garlic?”

Bon Bon laughed. “If only it were that easy! No, vampires are sustained by their own internal form of magic, which uses blood as a fuel source; changelings work in a similar way. As long as they have a reserve of that magic, it will enhance their abilities, as well as heal their injuries. The only way to kill a vampire is to either deplete their reserves, which requires you to injure them repeatedly until they run out, or to completely destroy them in one shot. And seeing as we have a body…”

“It has to be the former,” Lyra finished, rolling back onto her stomach and putting a hoof to her chin. “Which means the murderer must be good in a fight.”

“Or they found some way to subdue her before killing her. Or they are also a vampire, despite what Vinyl says. Or, most worrying, something even stronger.” Ending her pacing with a sigh, Bon Bon returned to the bed, sitting down beside Lyra. “Regardless, I think we should focus our investigation on the vampire until we can come up with anything better. Vinyl probably knows where she lived; we could start there.”

“We could do that tomorrow morning, before the Lieutenant gets us his files.”

“Sounds good.”

Lyra leaned against her marefriend. “You know, I’m really glad you came along. Sometimes I just don’t know what I would do without you.”

Bon Bon smirked playfully. “That makes two of us.”

Whitechapel Vigilance 6

Whitechapel Vigilance 5

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Lyra asked, ducking her head under the police tape draped across the doorway.

What, the signs saying ‘Crime Scene, Do Not Enter’ weren’t enough for you?

“Well…”

The apartment’s windows had been covered with thick sheets of canvas, forcing her to squint as she surveyed the room. Her hoof bumped against something in the darkness; lifting it up with her magic, Lyra discovered it to be a half-full carton of long-discarded noodles.

Wow, this place is a dump! Vinyl said, eying a stack of greasy pizza boxes that had been piled haphazardly on the connected kitchen’s countertop. And ‘Tavi thinks I’m bad…

The lights came on suddenly, blinding Lyra. Blinking repeatedly, she turned towards Bon Bon, who had discovered the light switch.

“I thought vampires couldn’t eat solid food?” she asked.

It probably wasn’t hers, Vinyl explained. Crystal Cup was a complete party animal. That’s how I knew her, she kept turning up in clubs I was playing.

She chuckled. Usually didn’t leave alone, if you know what I mean.

Bon Bon began searching through several stacks of unopened mail that had been left on a table by the door. “Seems like a poor use of an immortal life to me.”

Vinyl shrugged. Eh. She was young. Clever, but young. Celestia knows she could have been doing worse.

“So was she the youngest of the three of you?” Lyra asked. “You, Crystal Cup and Snowbound, I mean.”

Yep! Snowbound’s a couple decades younger than me, but Crystal Cup was only around 40… I think. Pretty sure, anyway.

“Oh, okay.”

Vinyl peered at Lyra’s face. What, not surprised that the adorable nine-year old is actually almost seven times your age?

Lyra laughed. “Honestly, I was expecting her to be older than you!”

Bon Bon, now having moved on to the living room proper, paused in her searching to shoot a glare at the other two. “Save the chit-chat for later! For now, we need to get looking. We don’t want to get caught trespassing at a crime scene.”

“Sorry!”

Sorry!

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t apologize, just get looking. Lyra, I think that’s a bedroom,” she said, pointing towards an open doorway. “Could you take a look in there?”

Lyra grinned and gave a mock salute. “Sure thing, boss!”

What about me, ‘boss’? Vinyl asked.

Bon Bon shot her a glare. “You’re searching in here, where I can keep an eye on you.”

She shrugged. Whatever keeps me on your good side, Drops.

“You aren’t on my good side. And that isn’t my name.”

Lyra swallowed as she left the front room. I hope those two can keep away from each other’s throats long enough for us to catch… A chill passed over her as she realized that, distracted by her company, she had almost forgotten why they were here. Focus, Lyra. You have a job to do.

She cast a glance around the bedroom; nothing in the mess stood out to her. “What should we be looking for, anyway?” she called out over her shoulder.

“Anything suspicious,” Bon Bon’s voice came from the other room. “Letters, notes, hidden caches… anything the police would have missed or overlooked.”

Oh! came Vinyl’s voice, accompanied by the sound of hoof meeting head. Blood locker! Duh!

“Blood locker?”

Blood locker! Vinyl said, walking into the bedroom with Bon Bon following close behind her. She raised her snout into the air and sniffed, then walked over to the wall beside the bed. Smelling it for a moment, she smiled and lit her horn. Magenta magic enveloped a section of the plaster and, much to the surprise of the other two, pulled it out of the wall entirely to reveal a hidden compartment. Inside was a very compact miniature refrigerator, a pile of papers and envelopes stacked on top of it.

Vinyl popped the door of the fridge open and grabbed a blood bag from a small pile of the things. Tearing a hole open with her fangs, she tipped its contents down her throat… and then caught the looks of revulsion the other two were giving her.

What? I’m hungry. She slurped the last of it down. ‘Sides, this stuff’s expensive. I’m not letting it go to waste!

Something about the bag makes it so much more disturbing… Feeling just a little greener than usual, Lyra grabbed the papers in her magic and floated them in front of her.

“What are these?”

The kind of things you don’t want ponies to see when you’re a monster that isn’t supposed to exist, Vinyl said as she snatched the documents from Lyra’s magical grasp. Sorry, but these are for vampire eyes only. She held the pile up to her eyes and began skimming each paper’s contents. Bon Bon made to protest, but Lyra cut her off with a hoof and a head shake.

After a few moments of reading, Vinyl’s eyebrows rose up from behind her sunglasses. Dropping the rest of the stack on the bed behind her, she unfolded the remaining item into a nearly three-foot square.

Bingo. Here, take a look at this. She turned the paper around so that it faced them.

It was a detailed map of Manehatten, complete with street names and points of interest. What stood out from the mess of roads and walkways, and what immediately captured Lyra’s attention, was the series of marker-drawn red x’s that had been left in one particular area.

“The East River…” Lyra murmured.

Stepping closer to the map, Bon Bon traced the path of the markings with her hoof. They started on the west bank, near the bottom end of the river, and made their way up along the river’s edge until they reached the other end, crossing several bridges in the process. They then began again at the bottom, this time on the eastern side, and made it about half as far as the other side before ending abruptly.

“It looks like the police weren’t the only ones investigating,” she said.

“But why does it stop like that on the right side?”

“Probably because that’s as far as she got before she was killed,” Bon Bon said. “Which means that there’s a decent chance she stumbled across something she wasn’t supposed to somewhere past where the x’s end.”

Then that’s our next move. We can be over there in an hour.

Bon Bon shook her head. “No, we should get the police’s files first and go through them. Crystal Cup died weeks ago; any evidence that’s still there isn’t going anywhere. Plus, knowing what’s in those files could add context to anything we do find.”

After mulling it over for a bit, Vinyl shrugged. Can’t argue with that. She folded the map back up and stowed it in her bag. I’ll go to get the files, do you want to meet back at the hotel?

“Sounds like a plan.”

Whitechapel Vigilance 7

Whitechapel Vigilance 6

When Vinyl returned to the hotel, she had with her an unmarked manila folder, the contents of which was quickly spread across Lyra and Bon Bon’s bed. The majority of the files consisted of profiles, small stacks of paper with photographs stapled to their corners. Lifting one off the bed at random, Lyra began to read off the front page.

“Flash Fire. Unicorn mare, twenty-three years old. Firefighter. No close family. Body found on the seventeenth of September.”

She grabbed another one. “Biscuit Break. Unicorn mare, thirty-four years old. Owned a café called the Stray Crumb; there’s an address. Parents live in Canterlot, has an older brother named Soft Stitch who’s taken over her business. Found dead on the twenty-fourth of September.”

“There’s one for her brother, too,” Bon Bon said. “Soft Stitch, Unicorn stallion, age thirty-seven. Previously worked as a nurse in Canterlot, now owns the Stray Crumb Café."

Vinyl picked a couple up and levitated them in front of her muzzle. Mountain Carpet. Earth pony stallion, twenty-five. Student at Manehatten U, lived on campus; botany major. What in Tartarus is a ‘botany’? She shuffled it to the back of her pile. Oh, here’s Crystal Cup’s. Twenty-two, ha! Unemployed, lived alone, no close family.

She tossed the files back on the bed. Well, this was a huge waste of time.

“No, these are very helpful,” Bon Bon said. “They give us a place to start. The addresses of the victims and their relatives are especially useful; we can pay them a visit, ask questions.”

“And if anypony’s hiding anything, I’ll be able to tell! We’ll have the whole thing wrapped up before dinner.”

Vinyl made a face. Yeah, I’m not gonna be a lot of help with that. Here’s an idea: you two go do that, and I’ll go check out the spot on Crystal Cup’s map.

“Fine by me,” Bon Bon said. “You’re more suited for that anyway.”

And it’ll save you the trouble of keeping an eye on me for a few hours, right?

Bon Bon ignored the slight, much to Vinyl’s apparent satisfaction. “Just don’t run off anywhere without us. Come back here if you find anything.” She swept the various files up and into a pile. “It’s a plan, then. Let’s go.”

─────

The next few hours saw Lyra and Bon Bon travelling all across Manehattan, paying visits to the addresses listed in the files. Most of the ponies who answered their doors were surprisingly willing to talk to the pair, once they were asked about their dead relatives; several of the ponies had assumed they were working with the police, as they had been told that nopony outside of the police was to know about the murders. Those who were more reluctant to talk found themselves subject to a rather insistent Bon Bon.

The two met parents and siblings, best friends and roommates. They met sobbing and grim silences. They met the victims, if only in the stories of those who knew them.

They did not meet a solution. And so, they found themselves walking through the doors to the Stray Crumb, in the hopes of meeting a decent lunch in addition to one of the suspects.

The bitter smell of coffee grounds hit Lyra like a cart, sending an electric tingle down her spine and into her limbs. Her eyelids snapped open, and her mouth turned upward into an easy grin.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“If you say so,” Bon Bon said, leading the way to an empty table, one of only a few in the establishment. The wooden chairs creaked slightly as they sat down.

“It’s pretty busy in here, huh?” Lyra said, looking out at the chattering crowd. “Must be a pretty popular place. I bet they have killer sandwiches.”

Bon Bon slid a menu over to herself from the center of the table as Lyra did the same with her magic. “Don’t forget why we’re here, though. We need to meet with Soft Stitch and ask him about his sister.”

“I know, I know.”

Bon Bon’s expression softened a bit. “Are you doing alright? I know this must be stressful.”

“What, me?” Lyra said, scoffing. “I’m completely fine. Besides, it’s not like this is my first time on a mission or anything. Really, I should be asking you that!”

“I’ve been doing this sort of thing a lot longer than you have, Lyra. I’ve been through things like this before.”

She sighed. “But you’re right. I worry about you, though.”

Lyra smiled. “I know. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

Their waitress took that moment to approach, a blonde earth pony with her mane pulled back. She greeted them with a friendly smile and a forgettable name. The two ordered matching sandwiches, Lyra going for a cup of coffee as well.

The waitress turned to go, but Bon Bon stopped her.

“Excuse me, is there a stallion named Soft Stitch working here?”

“Yeah, he’s my boss.”

“Could you tell him we want to speak with him? Tell him it’s about his sister.”

The mare’s eyes widened. “About Biscuit Break? Have you found her?”

Bon Bon shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Did you know her?”

“Yeah, she was my boss before she disappeared, we were friends. Is the search going well, at least? The police haven’t come around for a few weeks.”

“It’s going fine”, Bon Bon said. “I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually.”

The familiar tingle ran down Lyra’s spine at the lie. It mixed well with the guilt in her stomach.

The mare smiled. “That’s good to hear. I’ll go get Mr. Stitch for you.”

Lyra watched her retreat.

Bonnie did that so easily, she thought. It’s almost scary. I couldn’t do that.

Soon enough, their table was approached by a stallion, a pair of food-laden plates and a steaming mug levitating beside him. He strode up on long, slender legs and delicately set their orders in front of them with a smile.

He was pretty good-looking for a stallion, Lyra decided, though that may have been because he looked rather feminine, his face and body more rounded and slender than most.

“Hello,” he said in a voice that matched his looks. “My name is Soft Stitch. Bubblegum said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes,” Bon Bon said, immediately taking charge once again. “Have a seat, Mr. Stitch.”

He did so.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about your sister, if you don’t mind.” Lyra said, pulling out a notepad and a worn-down pencil.

“Are you police, then? I’ve already told them everything I know.”

“No, we’re working independently on the behalf of one of the victims’ families,” Bon Bon said, the same line she had used on all the other ponies they had interviewed today.

He raised his eyebrows. “A private investigation? But I was told by the police that this wasn’t to be made public!”

“Yes, and that is why it would be very helpful if you wouldn’t mention us to anypony either. Including the police. Now, could tell us a bit about your sister?”

“Biscuit was one of the kindest mares I’ve ever known,” he began. “She had a lot of friends, a lot of them customers here. She loved this place, too, it was her whole life. She was always so happy here, always greeting everyone with a smile and a cup of whatever they needed. She took me in after I lost my last job, you know. I didn’t even ask her for it even, she just sent me a job offer as soon as she heard I’d been let go.”

His smile disappeared. “When she—when she vanished, I had to keep this place running. I didn’t want to let go of the one thing I had left of her.”

He looked almost to tears now. “I miss her so much…”

Lyra reached over and gently laid a hoof on his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry Mr. Stitch. But I promise, we will find the pony responsible for this, and we will make them pay for what they did to your sister, and all the other ponies they hurt.”

Soft Stitch looked at her, a slight smile adorning his face. With all the apparent sincerity in the world, he said, “I certainly hope so.”

Lyra’s blood ran cold.

He had lied.

It’s him.

She fought back the urge to jerk away from him, to scream. She pulled her hoof back and sat back in her seat, keeping her expression as normal as she could.

He’s the murderer.

She must have let something slip through, though, because Stitch was giving her a funny look. “Is everything alright, miss?”

“Uh, fine! I am.” She coughed. “I’m fine.”

Sweet Celestia, he’s the murderer.

Bon Bon was looking at her too, now. Her eyes quickly shifted from Lyra’s face, to Stitch’s, and then back to Lyra. One of her eyebrows lifted slightly.

Lyra gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

“When did you last see your sister, Mr. Stitch?” Bon Bon asked.

“The day before she went missing, a couple days before the police found her. The third of last month, I believe.”

The questioning continued as normal, Bon Bon going through the list of questions they had ran through so many times already. Though her appetite had gone, Lyra forced herself to eat at least a few bites of her sandwich, for the sake of appearances. Bon Bon was doing the same, by the looks of it.

After what felt to Lyra like an eternity, the interview came to a close.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Stitch,” Bon Bon said. “You’ve been a big help. Oh, what do we owe you for the sandwiches?”

“I’ll get your bill for you.” He stood up, stretched his legs out, and headed back the way he had come.

“It’s him.” Lyra said the instant he was out of sight.

“You’re sure?”

Lyra nodded.

“Alright. We’ll go out and regroup with Vinyl, decide what to do from there.”

The agent disappeared for a moment. “Are you alright, Lyra? You looked like you were going to be sick.”

“I’ll be okay once this guy is far, far away from us. And behind bars. Or banished. Or—”

“Shh, he’s coming.”

“Here’s your bill, ladies,” Soft Stitch said, dropping the bill on the table. “And if you have any more questions, you know where to find me. Oh, and—please, for the sake of my sister, please find whoever’s behind this and bring them to justice.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stitch,” Bon Bon said, dropping the bits on the table, “we’ll make sure of it.”

The two stood up from the table and made their way outside. The streets were expectedly busy given the time of day, and they quickly found themselves swept up into the flow of the crowd.

They made it about a block before a commotion behind them caught Lyra’s ears.

“Miss, please—excuse me, sorry—wait a moment!”

She recognized the voice. Oh no.

There was Soft Stitch, pushing his way through the flow of ponies on the sidewalk to get to them. Lyra glanced over at Bon Bon. She’d furrowed her brow.

“Be on your guard. If he tries anything, I’ll take him down. Otherwise, act normal. We can’t let him know we know.”

“Got it.”

They moved over to the edge of the sidewalk while they waited for him to reach them. Which eventually he did, huffing and puffing just a little bit.

“I’m very sorry, ladies, but I gave you the wrong bill! I’ve charged you too much for your sandwiches.”

He’s not lying, Lyra thought. This can’t just be a coincidence, though.

“Oh, it’s really no problem,” Bon Bon said. “Besides, we’re in a bit of a hurry, so…”

“Oh no, I insist, and it’ll just take a moment—”

A pony walking by bumped into Soft, sending him stumbling forward. Lyra flinched.

“Here, why don’t we get out of the way so we can sort this out in peace?” he said, gesturing towards a gap in the lines of buildings only a few steps away, the only one for a ways. Bon Bon, after a moment, headed inside, Lyra following her into the alleyway with trepidation in her step.

Stitch was the last one in, blocking the narrow exit with his body. He withdrew a coin-purse, which jangled as he held it aloft.

“Now, it should only be a couple of bits—oh dear.”

Pulling open the clasp of the purse had released a single golden bit, sent it tumbling towards the concrete floor of the alley. Lyra’s eyes tracked its descent automatically, her horn lighting to catch it before it hit the ground.

This was a mistake.

“Lyra, get down!”

She snapped her head up, just in time to see Bon Bon diving towards Stitch, one hoof outstretched and aimed at Stitch’s horn.

She was a moment too late. A flash of light lit up the alley, and when the light faded, the two of them lay fallen.

Stitch groaned, and began to stand.

Bon Bon remained motionless.

Lyra opened her mouth to scream, but another flash from Stitch’s horn interrupted her. A wave of numbness swept over her body, relaxing her muscles and draining her energy. Her legs gave out, crumpling underneath her as she collapsed, though she could only barely feel the impact.

“Well, that went about as well as I could have hoped,” she heard Soft Stitch say.

Lyra tried to say something, but whatever spell he had cast on her had turned her mouth uncooperative; just the act of forming words was a struggle.

“Whu d’ yuh duh?”

“Hmm?” he said, leaning over her. “Oh, you’re still awake. Well, no worries, I promise you’ll be out soon enough. The anesthesia spell hasn’t failed me yet!”

He wasn’t kidding; Lyra could feel her consciousness slipping away.

He stepped over her; Lyra could hear his hoofsteps heading away from her, presumably towards the back of the alley. She looked forward. Beyond the fog that was encroaching on her vision she could see Bon Bon’s prone figure, and beyond that the glowing light of the street. She could see the ponies out on the street, going about their business only a good three meters away from her. If only one would glance into the alley!

The distance suddenly began to grow, and Lyra realized she was being dragged backwards, away from the safety of the streets.

It was getting harder and harder for her to stay awake, now.

An orange glow lit around Bon Bon’s legs, and she too was pulled into the back of the alley, left to lie beside Lyra.

A rustling sound came from beside her head, and Lyra watched as something was draped over their bodies, a tarp of some kind, sending her into darkness.

“Sleep tight,” the stallion said. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

His receding hoofsteps were the last thing Lyra heard before the spell at last plunged her into unconsciousness.

Waning Gibbous

Whitechapel Vigilance 7

A hoof against her face brought Lyra back into the waking world. She gasped, her eyes shooting open at the touch.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Soft Stitch said, his muzzle only inches away from her own. ”We’ve got work to do.”

She opened her mouth to scream, but his hoof quickly smothered it.

“Now now,” he said, smiling like a doctor to a foal. “That’s not going to help you, so let’s make this a little less painful for the both of us, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Lyra nodded.

“Good, good.” He pulled away, standing up and stepping back.

It took a moment for Lyra to register that he was upside-down, and a moment longer to realize that he wasn’t. The blood her racing heart was pooling in her ears helped, as did the tears flowing up her face instead of down.

She tried to move, but found she couldn’t do much; her forelegs had been tied behind her back, and her hindlegs were secured by a length of chain to a beam across the ceiling, leaving her suspended upside-down only a couple of feet off the dirty concrete floor. Her head had been secured too, by what felt like a strip of metal around her forehead. A quick attempt at freeing herself told her that her magic had been cut off as well, and the sharp pain from her horn indicated that is hadn’t been a clean job.

Unable to do anything herself, she turned her attention to the rest of the room.

Her restraints afforded her only a limited view, but from what she could see she appeared to be in a basement of some kind. The walls and floor were all concrete, and the only lighting came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling above them. A sheet covered something on the right wall.

Stitch was saying something.

“…And if you’re good, this won’t hurt any more than it needs to, alright?”

“What have you done with Lyra!?”

Bon Bon.

“Oh, your friend? She’s right here.”

He stepped out of the way, revealing Bon Bon in a very similar predicament to Lyra’s own.

“Lyra!”

“Bon Bon!”

“Aw,” Stitch said, “Isn’t that sweet?” He gasped. “Oh, are you two lovers? Oh, how wonderful!”

“Let us go, Stitch,” Bon Bon growled. She jerked at her restraints, though it didn’t do much good.

“Oh, I would if I could,” he said, slipping a set of plastic surgical coverings over his hooves. “But, unfortunately, you’ve seen too much. Besides, your friend—Lyra, was it?—I can’t just let her go!”

“W-what? Why?” Lyra stammered.

He looked at her, raising a hoof to his chin as if appraising her.

“Your eyes, I think. You have wonderful eyes.”

What?

“What are you going to do to us?”

He laughed, short and loud. “What, you hadn’t figured that out yet? I thought you were detectives!”

His horn glowed, and a matching glow appeared over the sheet-covered thing.

“I’m going to add you to my collection.”

The sheet was whisked away. Lyra and Bon Bon both gasped at what it had hidden.

Rows and rows of mason jars lined the polished steel shelves, each one filled with red, though several of a far darker shade.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he said, walking over to the shelving unit, the bags on his hooves rustling with each step. “There’s two hundred and forty-four of them, and each one’s a quart…”

He seemed to lose himself for a moment, staring at the macabre display.

“Beautiful…”

Lyra couldn’t accept that, she wouldn’t. “You—Y-you killed nine ponies… You kidnapped nine ponies, you murdered them, you murdered your sister, right here… for, for that!?”

“I had to!” he said, snapping around to face her with a snarl. “It’s—I get these urges, if there were some other way, like back at the hospital, I would have—" He stopped, suddenly. "Nine? Did you say nine ponies?”

“There were nine victims, you monster.” Bon Bon said.

“That’s, that’s… that’s impossible! I only took eight!”

Lyra felt nothing. He was telling the truth…

“But that doesn’t make any sense! There were nine victims!”

“I’m telling you, I only took eight ponies before you two!” he growled, before abruptly stopping, his mouth twisting into a grin.

“This is a trick. You’re tricking me!” He laughed. “Well, it’s not going to work. Besides, I think we’ve wasted enough time.”

He looked between his two captives, before finally settling his eyes on Lyra. Nodding to himself, he lit his horn, dragging a large metal basin out of the corner and leaving it directly under her. The screech of metal against concrete echoed throughout the basement.

“I should save the best for last,” he said, grasping a scalpel in his magic, “but I just can’t help myself.”

Bon Bon began struggling again, frantically twisting her body about and rattling her chains to no avail, screaming threats at Stitch the entire time. He ignored her, striding over to Lyra and bending down, his gleeful face filling her vision.

Lyra became suddenly very aware of her own heartbeat, thudding like a bass drum in her chest, again and again. She could almost feel the pulsing of her jugular as the cold steel of the blade’s edge pressed against her throat.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Stitch said. The pressure against the knife grew stronger—

The sound of a metal impact rang through the room from somewhere to Lyra’s left. Stitch looked up, startled.

“Wha—”

A white blur blasted into Soft Stitch, sending him and his scalpel flying away. He crashed into the left wall, the white form atop him resolving itself into a very welcome shape:

“Vinyl!”

The white mare, her face twisted into a snarl, hissed as she reared up and brought her forehooves down on Stitch. He raised his legs to defend himself, but still shouted from the impact.

The scalpel, which had fallen not far from Lyra’s head, glowed orange and jerked through the air, embedding itself deep in Vinyl’s shoulder before Lyra could shout a warning. Vinyl appeared barely to notice it, even as a dark stain began to spread through her coat around the wound. She brought a hoof down on Stitch’s horn, silencing the spell he had been about to cast.

A blue glow matching the glow of Vinyl’s horn encircled Soft Stitch’s neck. Spinning around, she lifted him off the ground and hurled him at the other wall in one clean movement. He soared through the air like a ragdoll, his legs flailing about as he crashed back-first into his precious collection.

The impact shook the shelves, sending much of their contents careening down on top of him. The jars fell like bombs, their contents exploding out of them as the broke against the concrete floor.

Stitch was drenched in crimson, the blood sticking to him and pooling around him and the broken glass. The metallic stench of copper flooded the room.

Stitch opened his eyes.

“No… no…”

His forelegs reached out, trying desperately to sweep the rapidly spreading pool back towards him. “No… you can’t…”

He was shaking, his eyes wide. “Y-you can’t… No, no, no… No, they’re all gone…”

His head snapped up.

“You! You took them from me!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you!”

“Vinyl!” Lyra shouted, “He’s getting up!”

When Vinyl didn’t respond, Lyra twisted her head around to look at her.

“Vinyl?”

Something was very wrong with the vampire. She swayed back and forth jerkily, and her raspy breaths came rapid and uneven through gritted teeth. Her shrunken pupils danced around the room, focusing first on Stitch, then on Lyra, then Bon Bon, then back to Stitch.

“Out of the frying pan…” muttered Bon Bon, pulling once more at her restraints.

“Vinyl, what’s wrong!?”

“It’s all the blood,” Bon Bon said. “It’s overwhelming her; she can’t control herself. She’ll drain Soft Stitch dry, and then she’ll have us for seconds.”

“Vinyl wouldn’t do that!” Lyra shouted, pulling at her own restraints with equally little success. Vinyl had her head pressed to the floor now, her hooves pinned over her head.

“She’s a vampire, Lyra! I kept telling you, but you wouldn’t listen! They may look equine, but at the end of the day they’re still just monsters!”

Soft Stitch had finally scrabbled to his hooves, his face twisted in hideous fury.

“You’re dead!” He screamed, dashing forwards.

Vinyl screeched, flinging her head up to the ceiling. She reared back, and met Soft Stitch’s charge with a heavy blow to his head, knocking him flat. He didn’t get up.

She staggered over to Lyra. A quick bit of telekinesis and the chains suspending her went slack, dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor. Vinyl’s teeth made quick work of the ropes binding her hooves, and soon she was free and standing, albeit achingly.

Lyra pulled the mare into a hug, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you…”

Vinyl pulled away quickly. Later, she said, although it seemed to be with great difficulty. She staggered away, towards an open grate in the floor that had been hidden from Lyra’s vision, and dropped down into it.

That must be how she got in. But how did she find us?

…There’ll be time for that later. She limped over to Bon Bon and began freeing her, a process made difficult by her lack of magic.

“Just a monster, h-huh?” Lyra said, still choking up from relief. “I t-told you she wouldn’t hurt us.”

“I…” She seemed to be at a loss for words. “That shouldn’t be—”

“Shush.” Lyra pulled the ropes loose, allowing Bon Bon to free her hooves.

“What do we do with him?” Lyra said, eying Stitch’s unconscious form wearily.

Bon Bon stood up, shaking out her legs. “Restrain him and leave him here. We can leave a tip for the police, tell them about this place. That way, we won’t be directly involved in their case.”

“Makes sense. Is my horn okay?”

“Just a cut. It’ll heal.”

“Phew!” After a moment, she began to laugh, loud whooping laughs that filled the chamber.

“What’s so funny?” Bon Bon asked, but Lyra was too busy laughing to answer. The mood proved infectious, though, and soon she began smiling too.

“C’mon, you silly pony,” she said with a giggle. “Help me tie him up.”

“Sure thing.”

─────

“I think I owe you an apology.”

Following their escape, Lyra and Bon Bon had left the same way Vinyl had, through the open grate. A half-hour’s trek through the sewers had brought them, blinking, into the daylight via a drain outlet; an outlet that drained directly into the East River.

Vinyl had met them at the end of the pipe—or more accurately, they had met Vinyl, dry-heaving over the water.

A few minutes of recovery time later, and Vinyl had been ready to head back to the hotel. She’d explained how she’d found them on the way, how she’d followed the map to the drain and smelled faint traces of blood on it. She’d then returned to the hotel and waited, and when the two hadn’t returned, had gone back to see where the drain led.

They had left their tip, an anonymous letter, tucked under the police station’s door. Vinyl had posted a letter to Winter Bell, explaining the situation.

And then they had returned to the hotel and all taken very long, very relaxing showers before ultimately collapsing into their beds.

Which led back around to now, the three of them sitting in a gently rocking train car the morning after.

You don’t have to—

“No, I do,” Bon Bon said. “You may be a, you know—“

A vampire.

“Right. But you aren’t a bad pony, and I shouldn’t have treated you like one.”

Vinyl laid back in her seat. It’s cool. You’re not the first, and I know you have your reasons. I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about you anymore.

She fixed Bon Bon with a look that could be felt even through her shades. I don’t, right?

“Not anymore.”

Same for ‘Tavi?

“…Octavia?”

“Werewolf,” Lyra supplied.

Bon Bon’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “There’s a werewolf living in—”

“Bonnie…”

“…Right. Can I at least meet her, make sure she’s taking precautions?”

She is. But sure. Vinyl sat up, a grin spreading across her face. Hey, we should do dinner!

“Oh, that’d be nice!” Lyra said. “I think it’s our turn to cook for you guys, though.”

You sure you can? We have pretty unusual tastes.

“I’m sure we can manage!”

The conversation slowly devolved into food-related small talk, mostly between the two ponies who had any talent for cooking. Lyra, meanwhile, took to staring at the rolling green hills flying past the window.

It’s over. It’s all over.

And yet, there was still something nagging at her, something she couldn’t quite let go. Perhaps it was her blessing, or just her own stubbornness, but…

There were definitely nine victims… But if Stitch was telling the truth, and I know he was…

Then who—or what—killed the extra pony?

In Search of Truth and Justice 1