Chapters Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed offerings to idols, swore oaths that the killer of souls might come to their aid and save the people. That was their way, their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts they remembered Hell.
—"Beowulf"
"How about the Headless Horse?"
Sweetie Belle's suggestion sounded halfhearted, even as she said it. She did not even move to add it to the list that lay before her—a list of words like "Nuckalavee," "Kelpie," and "Shihuanaba," each of which had been struck out.
"Nah," said Apple Bloom, who sat across from Sweetie Belle on the opposite side of a stack of books. "Somepony does the Headless Horse every year. That's like bringin' a volcano to the science fair."
At the table's end, Scootaloo looked up from a thick, dark grey cloth-bound volume propped against the edge. "How about... Krastos the Glue Maker?" Her eyes narrowed and a little smile spread across her snout as she spoke.
The three made no effort to lower their voices, for though the cardinal rule of silence was posted in block letters at the castle library's doors, it was a Saturday morning, and nopony else was present. Besides, they knew Princess Twilight personally, and the worst she would do was shush them.
The others turned toward Scootaloo, each raising an eyebrow.
"Glue Maker?" Apple Bloom raised one brow. "That doesn't sound very scary."
"Wait," Sweetie Belle said, "let me guess. You can sell your hoof clippings to real glue makers, but Krastos..."
"...Right! He collects 'em early!" Scootaloo thumped the book on the table and swiveled it around to let the others see the open pages.
Sweetie Belle, never one to turn down a vocal performance, read aloud: "'Myths of Krastos appeared in Equestria during the Classical Era, possibly after an origin in zebra folklore. He is preceded by a foul stench and is first drawn to lone ponies who wander too far from others to be helped..."
Scootaloo's grin widened. Apple Bloom looked up and away, in the manner of one turning an idea over.
"Despite the name, there is no part of the pony he does not use, except the tail and horn, which he keeps as trophies. '"
"Gotta admit that's pretty scary," Apple Bloom said. "But it doesn't say what he looks like."
"That's okay!" Scootaloo grinned and rubbed her forehooves together. "We'll design him ourselves. Any ideas?"
"For starters, somethin' scarier than those costumes we made for that talent show," Apple Bloom said.
Scootaloo regarded her coolly.
"I have an idea!" Sweetie said. "My folks took me to the Canterlot Museum once. And there were pictures of these old cave paintings of weird creatures. Kinda like apes, but thinner and standing up straighter."
"Now we're talking." Scootaloo's grin returned. "I bet most ponies never heard of anything like that!"
"Well, those things must've been pretty important to whatever ponies drew them, because they were the only things drawn in that cave."
"All right!" From a saddlebag beneath her chair, Scootaloo produced a broad sheet of construction paper and a few coloured pencils. With these, she began to sketch the outline of a lean, upright figure. "If nopony has any objection, Krastos will be two-legged and really tall. Sweetie Belle can stand behind the stage curtain and use some magic to make the arms move. Apple Bloom is strongest, so she can form the legs. I'm lightest, so I'll stand on her back..."
"Hold it, hold it." Apple Bloom shook her head and waved her forelegs apart.
"Aw, you can do it, Bloom," Scootaloo said. "You've carried way heavier things than me."
"That ain't it. It's just... I dunno, Scoot. I never heard o' no 'Krastos' before."
"C'mon, Apple Bloom!" Scootaloo made a hoof-bumping gesture at the air. "Didn't you always want to enter the Monster of the Year contest?"
"It's just..." Apple Bloom leaned on one elbow and stared glumly at the tabletop. "The contest ain't as big as it used to be. Last time we had a chance to enter, Golden Oak was still standin'. But we went crusadin' instead. I know that was important, but even if we win now, not as many ponies are gonna see it."
"Well... all the more reason! You don't wanna regret missing your last chance, do you?"
"I guess not, but..."
"Wait!" With this interjection, Sweetie Belle reared up and planted both forehooves on the table. "I've got it! I know how we can give everypony the scariest Nightmare Night in history!"
The others turned to her, brows raised in surprise.
"The scariest ever?" Scootaloo said. "How?"
"Well, a couple months ago, the whole town convinced Rainbow Dash they were all zombies..."
Two nods in response.
"So, what if we did that in reverse? What if..." She leaned forward and her voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper. "...we convinced everypony that Krastos the Glue Maker is real? "
"Real?" Now Scootaloo was whispering as well.
"Yeah. You know how fast rumors travel in Ponyville. We just put something in the Free Press , talk Krastos up a bit at recess..."
"Yeah! But, uh..." Scootaloo's enthusiastic expression switched to one of concern. "Is that going too far, you think?"
"Well, we're not hurting anypony's reputation this time," Sweetie Belle said. "And you're supposed to play tricks like this on Nightmare Night. It should be okay as long as we tell everypony the truth right after the contest."
"Hey, can I see that?" Apple Bloom pulled the book close and examined the inside cover. "'Encyclopedia Infernus , published 1683, Celestial Era.' This thing is older than Granny. Interestin'—it says 'Property of Golden Oak Library.' Must've been checked out when Tirek blew it up."
"Okay..." Scootaloo turned the pencil back upon the paper. "Since Apple Bloom and I will have to hide in the costume, we'll give Krastos a long coat that reaches to the ground—made of the hides of his victims, we'll say. Sweetie Belle, think Rarity will let you borrow some brown naugahyde?"
"Sure, but the hard part will be keeping it a secret why I need it." Sweetie Belle put one hoof to her chin in thought. "Maybe give him a broad-brimmed hat, too. And his head can be an old nylon stocking with some stuffing in it, so it looks like his face is covered by shadow."
"Perfect!" Scootaloo began to sketch an outline. "Apple Bloom, any ideas?"
"Well..." Apple Bloom shifted her forehooves a bit. "I guess I can scrounge some old farm tools for him to wave around."
"Great! Get a sickle and some shears." Scootaloo drew these at the ends of the figure's arms. At last she held the paper up for the others to see.
Sweetie Belle let out an impressed whistle.
"We'll get a point for originality, I reckon." There was now an impressed undertone to Apple Bloom's voice.
Scotaloo began to roll the paper up. "Cutie Mark Crusaders, we've got just under six weeks 'til Nightmare Night, and there's lots to do. Let's get going!"
The three hurried to leave and, in their excitement, forgot to return their books.
* * *
Not five minutes later, the castle's chatelaine strode into the library and happened to pass by the same table. As Princess Twilight was of a particular mind, she paused to retrieve the abandoned books.
Before she could close the one that still lay open, her gaze fell upon the open page, and she paused, frowning and skimming her eyes over the first few paragraphs. She turned it over and read the title, once, twice, to be sure there was no mistake. At last she shrugged and placed the book on the nearest truck. "Must have remembered wrong," she said to herself.
It was not until some time later, when it no longer mattered, that Twilight fully remembered she had read the name Krastos once before, in her old copy of Predictions & Prophecies .
"Cupcakes—so sweet and tasty
Cupcakes—don't be too hasty ..."
Sugarcube Corner had no room for a jukebox, so Pinkie Pie's work-songs, echoing from the kitchen, had to suffice. About half were her own composition, but for variety she interspersed them with earth-pony folk songs. Pinkie would even take requests, for the fee of a genuine smile and a "please."
The three mares at the best window-table had no requests, as they were more familiar than most with Pinkie's repertoire of impromptu ditties. Their attention was variously upon their teas and a copy of the Foal Free Press , at which one of the trio was now wrinkling her snout in clear disgust.
"To be quite honest," Rarity said, "that Truffle Shuffle should have stuck to food criticism. As Editor, he's let the Press slide into being a showcase for bubblegum fluff and freelance columns from cranks. Why, just look—" She pointed to the leftmost column. "'Giant Two-Legged Skeleton Found in Tar Pit.'" She turned the page. "'Star Swirl Was Mare in Disguise.' And worst of all..." She pointed to the top of the second page. "'Seeking Legends: Krastos the Glue Maker, Part 3.'"
From the next table over, somepony made a loud "shushing" noise, and the three turned to see a wide-eyed Roseluck sitting alone. "You shouldn't say that name!" she whispered loudly.
"For heaven's sake, Roseluck," Rarity said. "Don't tell me they've got you thinking Krastos is real too!"
Roseluck glared, dropped a few bits on her table, and stood to leave, abandoning a half-eaten banana split.
With a "hmph," Rarity tossed the paper onto her own table's unoccupied middle and gestured dismissively with one hoof. "'Glue Maker,' indeed. How trite!"
"Yeah," Fluttershy said, staring straight through her tea. "Really trite."
"Who's on the byline?" said Twilight between sips.
"It says it's by one Gumshoe Intrigue," Rarity said.
"Weird." Twilight looked up and away. "Somepony was in the library last month, reading about this Krastos. Maybe it was him. I've never heard anypony talk about a 'Glue Maker' legend. If Gumshoe is a pen name, maybe I should write a letter to the editor..."
"And if it is," Rarity said, "it's not a terribly creative one. Why, it's almost as bad as..."
A jangle of chimes cut Rarity's thought short, and into the Corner trotted the Ponyville chapter of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, all bustling against one another to get through the door. There followed hurried greetings—"Hi-Rarity-hi-Twilight-hi-Fluttershy!"—as they trotted to the counter, where Mrs. Cake stood ready to take orders. As they each bought a small ice cream bowl and proceeded to the table across the main floor, Pinkie launched into another song: "Three blind mice. Three blind mice ..."
"Hey, can I have that?" Twilight said, indicating the paper.
"By all means." Rarity pushed it across the table. "Though I cannot imagine why, unless you have a secret love of crackpot theories."
"See how they run. See how they run ..."
"Well, all old stories have a little truth behind them," Twilight said. "And sometimes a lot, actually."
"They all ran after the farmer's wife ..."
"All right, all right." Rarity looked away and made a fending-off motion with one hoof. "Nightmare Moon, the Crystal Empire, and Tirek were all real..."
"And Discord," Fluttershy said, still staring at her tea leaves as though trying to read them.
"Who cut off their tails with a carving knife ..."
"Right. Those were all possible, as improbable as they seemed before. But this 'Krastos the Glue Maker...'"
From the table opposite came a loud squeal, and the three mares turned to see Scootaloo looking at them—but only for a fraction of a second before she pressed a hoof to her temple and grimaced.
"Did you ever see such a sight in your life ..."
"Ow!" She sucked a short breath through gritted teeth. "Brain freeze!"
"... As three blind mice? "
"As I was saying..." Rarity tossed her mane flippantly. "It's not just Roseluck. I've overheard ponies around town talking about 'Krastos' as if it were at all plausible! And it isn't just a few; I can hardly walk the streets without hearing the name. All these ancient monsters coming back to Equestria have gotten everypony looking out for the next one!"
Twilight tapped her chin. "The encyclopedia entry said Krastos was from zebra folklore, so if it were real, it wouldn't appear in Equestria anyway."
Behind her, the doorchimes jangled again as three fillies scampered out of the Corner.
Twilight turned to stuff the newspaper into the saddlebag that lay beside her seat. "Still, it will be interesting to ask Zecora about it when she's back from wherever she's been off to. Starlight will be back from the Empire next week, so maybe I can finally introduce them. Fluttershy?"
The latter gave a start at the sound of her name, nearly spilling the dregs of her tea. "Y-yes?" Fluttershy met Twilight's gaze with wide, dilated eyes.
Twilight looked at her sidelong. "Uh, I was going to ask you to tell me if you saw Zecora. Are you all right?"
"Fine! Fine." Fluttershy glanced quickly from one pair if questioning eyes to the other. There was a long pause.
"Dear, dear Fluttershy." Rarity made to extend a comforting hoof, but her friend was a little too far away. "Surely you aren't frightened by all this talk of a Glue Maker."
"No... well, yes." Fluttershy lowered her gaze. "It's just, these things turn out to be real more often than they should. But..." She took a long breath, puffing out her chest a little. "You're right: It probably doesn't exist, and if it did, it would be far away from here." She stood up. "Sorry, but I have to go; it's time to feed the silkworms. Twilight, if I see Zecora, I'll let her know you want to talk. Excuse me."
She turned and trotted out, a little too quickly to seem nonchalant. Behind her, Twilight half-stood, as if thinking of following, but paused, shook her head, and returned to her seat.
"Maybe a good night's sleep will clear her head," Twilight said.
Applejack and Apple Bloom had just reached the edge of town as the morning sun crept over the Everfree's treetops. Applejack normally showed up to market day early, but a busted spoke on her cart's wheel necessitated a delay, and as Mac had already gone out to plow the south field, Apple Bloom was now hitched beside her, with both hauling away as quickly as they dared. Earth-pony strength would have allowed a gallop, but this might have caused an overturn, and bruised apples would not sell. They trotted in silence, not only to save their breath, but in quiet dread of the trouble ahead. Competition for the best spaces on the main street often brought out the worst in ponies, for all living things compete most viciously when the stakes are small.
As the two arrived upon the street, Applejack found herself a little relieved at the sight—at least for a moment—as several of the prime spots still lay empty. But relief gave way to curiosity and a quiet sense of unease, for none of the merchants' carts had been unpacked and many had been left standing here and there, the harnesses laying where they had been dropped. The owners had gathered together in the street's exact centre, shoulder to shoulder, all facing toward the middle and murmuring to one another.
Applejack pointed with her snout toward the nearest unoccupied space, and they steered the wagon into it.
"Apple Bloom, set us up." Applejack began unhitching herself.
"But—" Apple Bloom looked toward the crowd and shifted her forehooves a bit.
Applejack intensely met her sister's eyes. "You're old enough to do it yourself. Set up and serve the customers, Apple Bloom."
Apple Bloom made to speak, but checked herself, closed her mouth, and nodded.
As Applejack reached the crowd's edge, she tried to get a look at the object of their attention by standing on her hind legs and peering over their heads. She only glimpsed those toward the middle, looking at something low upon the ground.
From among the murmurs, she made out a few words from the mare closest to her: "What if it's him —you know, the Glue Maker?"
Just as Applejack began to consider forcing her way into the crowd, a voice from behind called out, "Everypony, excuse me please!" Applejack and most of the nearby crowd turned to see Twilight and Spike hurrying toward them, followed closely by a brown stallion Applejack recognized as Dr. Turner, the town clockmaker. Twilight, expression grim, motioned for Applejack to follow as the crowd made way for her. As the four drew near the crowd's middle, she mentally braced herself for what might lie there.
When she finally came into view of the object, she stopped, squinted, and tilted her head a little, for what she saw made no sense. It was carved from light grey stone and had once resembled a pony. The main body lay on its side in the dirt, with jagged stubs where its tail, wings, hooves, mark, and head had been. Only the head was anywhere to be seen, perched upon the side of the stone torso. The horn was gone, but the face was the most recognizable in Equestria.
This had been the town's statue of Princess Celestia.
"You see, Your Highness—just as I said." Turner indicated the remains. "Luckily, nopony seems to have contaminated the evidence. That is, as far as I can tell."
Twilight crouched for a closer look, brow furrowing and frown deepening. "So it was broken off at the knees, cracked into pieces, and dragged here during the night... and nopony noticed until this morning?"
"No, Highness. I saw the plinth before I saw this . There were no pieces left, and I saw no drag-marks on the ground. Either I am not as observant as I thought, or this was carried here."
Twilight stood up and addressed the crowd, voice raised. "Has anypony seen the missing pieces?"
Most of those gathered stood silent. A few shook their heads.
"I say," Turner said, "you don't suppose this is simply an elaborate joke in very poor taste, rather than some sort of threat?"
"Maybe," Twilight said, "but I've learned that things like this can be signs of something big."
It was then that a new voice spoke, its owner approaching from the east: "There is not one who'd make this joke, among these honest ponyfolk."
Everypony turned to see that Zecora, while not hurrying, was already close enough to take in the details of the ruined statue. A few ponies in the crowd exchanged glances, but did not interfere as she drew up to the centre of the scene.
"It's good to see you back, Zecora," Applejack said. "Sure wish the circumstances weren't so, well..."
"Yes, good to see you." Twilight indicated the statue. "I think you're right about the townsfolk. But have you ever seen anything like this?"
Zecora frowned and intently scanned first the head, then the broken limbs, then the wing-stumps. Her gaze rested longest upon the gash on the flank where the mark had been. "Culprits aplenty there may be," she said at last. "You have many an enemy."
Turner cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but what ought to be done?"
Twilight stood straight and put out her chest, assuming a regal bearing. "To start with, we'll gather the rest of my councelors. Doctor Turner, I'm afraid I have to deputize you for a bit. Go to Sugarcube Corner and tell Pinkie Pie to follow you to my castle. Applejack, you do the same with Fluttershy and Rainbow. I'll get Rarity... and the Mayor, too. Zecora..."
But the latter had already turned away and begun heading east. "As hiding now this foe may be, I'll search the forest Everfree."
"I... all right," Twilight said. "Be safe. And keep us up on anything you find."
With no break in her stride, Zecora glanced back and nodded.
"We'll meet in the map room in fifteen minutes. Let's get going!" Twilight's voice was raised, and Applejack realized she was trying to allay the crowd's unease by showing that something was being done.
"Right," Applejack said, raising her own voice. "See y'all there."
As Applejack set out, she heard Twilight asking the crowd to return to their business. She resisted the urge to move faster than a trot, as the sight of her galloping might have hurt Twilight's chances of keeping them calm. She did not head for Fluttershy's homestead immediately, but veered toward the cart where Apple Bloom had been trying to watch the proceedings while setting up.
Applejack lowered her voice to just above a whisper and tried to look unconcerned. "Apple Bloom, go home and tell Mac and Granny to stick together and watch out for danger till I get back."
"But..." Apple Bloom glanced toward their mound of unsold wares.
"Leave the cart. Go!"
Apple Bloom complied, hurrying into a narrow shortcut between two sundry shops.
A few minutes later, Applejack was knocking at the door of Fluttershy's cottage. This would once have necessitated slow, gentle tapping to avoid spooking the owner, but these days one could sharply jab the door, and Fluttershy would hurry to answer, knowing the reason must be urgent.
But this time she did not.
Applejack waited, trying not to fidget, counting off ten seconds before knocking again. "Hello?" She tried to project her voice through the nearest window. "Fluttershy? Angel? Harry?" She turned and looked to and fro. "Anyone?"
For now that she stopped to listen, Applejack could not remember whether the homestead had always been so quiet. Had there not usually been a twittering or splashing or croaking? But as Applejack turned her ears about, they only caught the dribbling of the creek.
Perhaps her friend was out back, tending the chicken coop. As she trotted around to the rear of the homestead, which lay only a few steps from the edge of the Everfree, Applejack at last heard something—short flappings and flutterings, separated by moments of silence. Rounding the corner, she saw it: a single brown hen, one wing caught in the fence around the coop, flapped weakly against the mesh, trying to free itself.
As Applejack drew near, the hen's struggles grew more and more violent. She managed to avoid its beak and claws as she pulled at one wire, widening the gap just enough so it could flap free. It did not return to the coop, but beat its wings just hard enough to properly launch itself over the fence and vanish into the underbrush beyond the property line.
And now, utter silence. The homestead was deserted.
No—not entirely deserted. Applejack caught a slight movement from beneath the ramp of the empty coop. A tiny pointed nose sniffed at the air from within a hole in the dirt. Though she had never liked rodents, Applejack knelt down, removed her hat, and tried to mimic the softness the Fluttershy's voice.
"It's all right. Come on out. I'm a friend of Fluttershy."
She waited a few moments, hardly breathing, until one by one, with many pauses to sniff for danger, there came scurrying three white mice. They stopped and stood in a line, close enough to the hole that they could easily leap for it if there were a need. Six red beads regarded Applejack cautiously.
"Where's Fluttershy?" Applejack breathed.
There was a long pause. The mice looked to one another, to Applejack, and back again. Then, in single file, they turned and slowly trooped, not toward the cottage, but up the coop's ramp.
Applejack followed, leaving as much distance as she dared. The coop's door was a tight fit for a pony, but at length she found herself crouching in the dirty straw that covered the floor. Ahead of her, one of the mice rose onto its hind legs and pointed with one claw. Applejack at first thought it was pointing at her, but realized it meant for her to turn around.
She turned, and looked, and saw.
Applejack launched herself back through the door and bolted back toward the town at a full gallop, crying out for help from someone, anyone, who might hear.
For just above the coop's door, stuck to the wall by a drop of dried blood, there was a single long, butter-yellow feather.
It was noon before the town and nearby farms had been thoroughly searched, and past mid-afternoon before the search party had been reorganized into the long skirmish line that now stretched along the edge of the Everfree, awaiting the command to move in.
Twilight met Rainbow Dash in the centre of the line, just above the treetops. Rainbow had assumed a military manner, and Twilight suspected she refrained from saluting only out of respect for Twilight's unofficial mandate of informality.
"The right wing is ready," Rainbow said.
"So is the left. All right, here goes." Twilight pointed her horn straight upward and loosed a magenta bolt that turned to bright green as it burst some fifty yards overhead with a mighty bang.
The ponies in the line were not soldiers and were only accustomed to working in small teams for harvests or season-changings. Thus, the line did not begin to move all at once: Those more eager started forward first, and their fellows, having been ordered to keep one another in sight at all times, had to hurry to catch up. From above, the line's shape seemed that of an extraordinarily long earthworm, flexing this way and that as it moved—though, as Twilight had planned, it moved sideways, combing through the forest.
"Good." Twilight let out a small breath. "If we can hold it together, we'll cover a lot of ground before nightfall."
Fifteen, thirty, sixty minutes passed with little progress. The ground-locked ponies' going was easy at first, but as they began running up against streams, cliffs, and swampy patches, the line slowed, bent, and broke into sections. Twilight and Rainbow flitted back and forth, shouting instructions downward and ordering squadrons of pegasi to lift ponies over the worst obstacles. By the time the two were able to meet above the middle again, Twilight had broken into an obvious sweat and Rainbow's tail was flicking with annoyance.
"Okay," Rainbow said without preamble, "this is officially taking too long. We're about to start losing daylight. And if the wildlife isn't driven off by our approach, we'll have to defend..."
From below, there came a long, keening wail—a high note of primal fear from which the two mares at first shied instinctively. Recovering in an instant, they circled about in the air, looking for the source. A spray of blue sparks shot up from where the line of searchers met the rough path that led to the ancient castle. This was a prearranged signal, not of danger, but of a need for assistance.
In the next moment, Twilight and Rainbow had alighted upon the path, where Applejack was trying, without success, to calm a small piebald colt, who was now jabbering in clear terror and gesticulating at the path back to town. At the sight of Twilight, he bolted straight for her with a cry: "Help! It's after me! It's coming!"
All those present turned toward the path, and Rainbow kicked at the ground a little. But a few tense seconds passed with no sound but the colt's rapid breathing.
"What is coming?" Twilight said at last.
"We just got back from 'oliday," said the colt. "An' Dad sent me on an errand... but everypony was gone and... the monster chased me all the way 'ere! " His voice cracked.
The three mares turned back toward him, their faces variously questioning and sympathetic. Applejack made to lay a comforting hoof on his shoulder, but he shied away.
Twilight crouched down to address him with what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "Don't worry. You're safe now. We're good at making monsters go away. What did the monster look like?"
The colt kicked at the earth as though ready to bolt again, and his turgid eyes darted left and right. He swallowed, panted, swallowed again before speaking, all in a rush. "It... it was tall an' thin an' walked on two legs an' it tried to cut me with a sickle and... and..."
"Two legs?" Twilight said.
"Red eyes!" His voice cracked again, and he fell back upon his haunches, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. "Red eyes! Red eyes..."
The three mares traded looks of concern and incredulousness. Twilight made to speak, but a new voice cut in as a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows that hid the path ahead.
"He speaks the awful truth, I fear. We must not linger long out here."
Zecora threw back her hood, and her deep frown told those present that she meant every word.
"Zecora!" Twilight said. "Did you find... I mean, what did you find?"
"I searched the forest all the day, and found a place I dared not stay." Zecora's intense gaze met that of each pony as she spoke. "Deep in a cave of loathsome smell, I glimpsed at horrors I'll not tell. Such visions made my blood to freeze, for zebra shamans know of these."
Rainbow made to speak, but seemed to think better of it as Zecora's manner assumed a little ferocity—a creasing of the brow and baring of the teeth.
"And so your nerves you must all steel." Zecora leaned forward a little, eyes narrowing and tone lowering to a harsh whisper. "Krastos the Glue Maker... is real !"
Looks of confusion all around. For a long moment, nopony moved.
"And... Fluttershy?" Twilight's question emerged meekly. She had already guessed.
Zecora closed her eyes, hung her head, and moved it just a little—right, and left, and right again.
Now it was as if some spell had fallen upon the small company. In their manner, confusion gave way to disbelief, shock, and grief all at once. They stood in a limbo between these passions, and the slightest nudge or breath upon one might send them all to pieces.
But a voice broke the spell before any of them could give in. It held steady—too steady to be mistaken for calm, but clearly built upon a foundation of fortifying breath. Its tone made clear that there would be time for grief later. The voice belonged to Twilight.
"We have to get everypony back to town."
"Yes, I think you're right." Rainbow's words emerged from between clenched teeth.
With a gasp, Applejack reared up and turned back toward the town. "Twilight, the young 'uns!"
"What?"
"In the schoolhouse!" She kicked at the ground, ready to break into a gallop. "We left 'em with Cheerilee!"
"Both of you, run back and check on the kids," Twilight said. "Spike should be at the castle; tell him to send a message to Celestia that we're under attack by an unknown, very dangerous force. I'll..."
Before another word could be spoken, Rainbow and Applejack took to the air and the path with all speed, and in seconds they vanished from sight.
"...All right." Twilight placed a hoof on the shoulder of the colt, who was now quietly sobbing, his face buried in his forelegs. She pointed her horn upward and loosed a bolt of energy, which burst a bright yellow in the sky—the signal to return to town. "We have to make sure everypony gets back safely." She turned to Zecora. "Then, I need you to tell me everything."
Applejack ran.
Roots, blow-downs, and the small mud ponds that formed in forest trails in Autumn did not slow her. There was only herself, the path, and the schoolhouse on the opposite side of town. She could not have told how long it took to reach the forest's edge, nor run the shortest route through the nearly deserted town. She did not see another pony until she was halfway up the small hill upon which the school stood.
Then, in a moment, children were all about her.
Running.
Screaming.
Away from the school—leaping from its only door.
Applejack slowed enough to glance at their faces as they galloped by. Apple Bloom was not among them.
She made for the open door as the last of them scrambled out, slowing only enough to crouch and spring through. She halted just within and looked about. The schoolroom was unlit, but light from the late afternoon sun streamed in the windows, casting long shadows from overturned desks and scattered chairs. The building had recently been wired for electric lighting, and Applejack pressed the switch beside the door.
Nothing happened.
Applejack's ears swiveled. She tried to slow her breathing, but the pounding of her heart was loud enough to drown out the steps of anything that might sneak up.
From somewhere, there came a rustling. Applejack held her breath. There it was again—from the supply closet in the corner. Applejack crept toward it, as silent as hooves upon a wooden floor allowed. It was a long moment before she faced the door, nerves taut as piano wires, ready to deliver a stone-shattering blow. She silently counted to three, seized the doorgrip, and flung it open.
Out tumbled three roly-poly bodies, shrieking in surprise and tripping one another up as they squirmed to their hooves.
Applejack was upon them in an instant, seizing one of their number in her forelegs, hugging more tightly than she ever had before. Tears of relief streamed down both sisters' faces. For just a little while, all was well.
* * *
Twilight hovered steady above the entrance to the forest's main path, again surrounded by a brilliant magenta glow. Along the treeline, searchers emerged singly and in groups before making their way toward her beacon. In the west, the sun began to dip below the horizon.
As the mass of ponies gathered below her, she pondered the next move. The monster might still be in the town, but if it had hidden itself in the surrounding farmland, or fled the township entirely, it would be impossible to track in the dark. Then there was the matter of lighting. The town had been wired with electric street lights the previous year, and the chief engineer should have switched them on by now. But the only lights came from single windows here and there—lanterns lit by ponies who had been unable to join the search. Twilight frowned.
The crowd of searchers were now close beneath her, looking up with expectation and worry upon each face. Still hovering, Twilight looked down and did her best to assume a military manner, as she had seen her brother do when addressing Guardsponies.
"Everypony, listen up! We're going to search the town! Split into groups of five! At least one pony of each tribe per group! If you encounter anything hostile..."
But then, screams from below—cries of sheer terror mixed with "Help, help!" Twilight cast a broad light upon the ground and made out the figures of a filly and a colt, about ten years of age, galloping from the town and toward the crowd. As they reached the crowd's edge and began trying to hide among the nearest adults' legs, Twilight flitted down, approaching from the side so as not to unnerve them further.
Immediately, the two ran to Twilight and threw themselves at her hooves, gibbering. Twilight knelt and extended both wings, taking both in a comforting embrace. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."
The filly, who Twilight recognized as the youngest Hooves sister, gesticulated toward the town. "He's there! He's after me! He's coming!"
Twilight shone her light upon her and gasped, for the hair of her right cheek was matted with drying blood. "What happened to you?"
"There was a noise and something grabbed Miss Cheerilee and we ran! And, and, and he came out of the shadows and he cut me! He cut me! "
"Who?" somepony said from Twilight's left. "Who did it?"
"Him! The Glue Maker!"
The filly's voice was not loud enough to reach all the crowd, but its message, carrying from one pony to the next, made its way throughout in seconds. The crowd's low murmur rose as its shape rippled and shifted, hundreds of hooves kneading at the earth.
Twilight again took to wing, lighting her horn and projecting her voice as much as she could. "Everypony, stay calm! There's no need to..."
Too late. Primitive fear of the unknown had finally banished the crowd's rational thoughts, and as one they were seized by their ancestors' instinct for flight. They broke and ran this way and that, some toward their homes, but most to the south and north, away from either the forest or the town. Some formed small groups of friends or relations, but many ran blindly, or helplessly looked about for somepony to help them as they fled.
Within seconds, only Rarity, Pinkie, Zecora, and Turner remained, all standing in a loose circle, fidgeting with nerves and looking to Twilight expectantly.
By this time, sunset had given way to a deep dusk.
* * *
Cranky was in an uncommonly bad mood.
He had woken up to find the last of his milk had soured, and as market day had been cancelled over some sort of mischief, there was no place to buy more. The early chill of autumn had gotten into the house, and his afternoon stroll had not helped the stiffness in his joints as much as it once had. As Matilda would be at her mother's house in Canterlot until the next day, and the chores were done by noon, there was little to do but sit on the front porch and lose himself in a book. Among the things Cranky hated, one of the greatest was boredom.
When the evening's dim began to make reading impossible, he stood, lit the kerosene lamp that hung from the porch roof, and returned to his rocking chair. But no sooner had he cracked his book again than there came a drumming of hooves on the ground, and from the bushes off to the left emerged two mares and a filly, who began hastily cantering through with no regard to property lines. Compounding Cranky's astonishment, he recognized them as Derpy the postmare and her cousins, Dinky and Sparkler.
Cranky stood up against the porch railing and shouted to them as they passed. "Hey! You! What in tarnation is goin' on?"
"Run for it!" Sparkler yelled without so much as a glance toward him. "The Glue Maker is coming!"
"'Glue Maker?' What kind of gag is—"
But the three had already crossed the yard and vanished into the gathering darkness.
"Oh well." Whatever this was, Cranky was not buying it. He put his book down, stood, stretched, and plodded around back for the day's last visit to the outhouse.
Halfway down the stone path, a nasty stench assailed his nostrils. He paused, grimacing not only at the smell, but at this last annoyance of the day. It was not the ordinary outhouse smell, but the particular odor of something that had died and rotted. With Cranky's luck, it had probably fallen into the tank before expiring. He wrinkled his snout and moved to investigate before the last light of dusk vanished.
As he reached the outhouse door, his left forehoof fell upon something soft that made a squelching noise. Reflexively, he tried to pull his hoof away, but it budged only a little. Without thinking, he put his right hoof down to brace against the ground, but it struck the same gooey substance. He pulled at one, then the other, then both at once, but it was as if rubbery shackles had fastened his hooves to the stones of the path.
Cranky paused, bewildered, trying to appraise the problem. His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dim light, and he could now make out a patch of some pale substance spread over the ground, into which he had stumbled. He leaned a little closer and sniffed. Through the death-stench, there was another smell—sharp, acrid, distinctive.
At that moment, he heard a small sound from behind his left ear: The click of a pair of shears.
They met again in the high street.
Applejack, with three fillies following close, had decided to cut back through town and regroup with the others. But as they retraced her steps, they saw ponies fleeing through town in a rout, taking cover in houses or running into the gathering night. When they got to the high street, they saw a bright magenta glow headed toward them from the opposite side, and with a call of "Twilight, over here!" made straight for it. They met in the middle, almost exactly where they had that morning, and tried not to look at the defiled statue's remains as they spoke.
"Twilight, Zecora—where're the others?" Applejack said, eyes straining into the darkness around them.
"I sent Pinkie and Rarity with Dr. Turner to get the lights back on," Twilight said. "Everypony else..." She gritted her teeth and gave an annoyed snort. "Well, we're on our own. Where are the other kids?"
"They ran away just as I got to the school. I think the young 'uns all escaped, but Miss Cheerilee..." Applejack glanced back at the three fillies, who looked about to burst into tears again. "Well, it sounds like it was a close one."
"No..." Twilight exchanged a knowing glance with Zecora. "It was deliberate."
"Pardon?"
"Zecora explained the whole thing," Twilight said. "Krastos is not a natural creature." Her ears flicked and her eyes darted about, as if the thing might appear at the mention of its name. "It's a tulpa ."
"A what?"
"A thought-form. Zebra shamans sometimes create them, but they're usually just imaginary friends with minds of their own." Twilight looked to Zecora, who nodded curtly. "But in ancient times, some discovered a magic that could bring tulpas into reality. They created Krastos to destroy their enemies, but when that was done..." Twilight took a fortifying breath. "It wouldn't stop. They had to destroy it and tried to erase all the records, all the stories that it had ever existed."
"Physical form it will achieve," Zecora said, "but only if ponies believe."
"It exists 'cause ponies believed it did?" Disbelief mixed with terror on Applejack's features. "That don't make any sense!"
"Zecora explained that too," Twilight said. "Tulpas are made of thoughts, and that includes this one. Once the spell is cast, a tulpa can keep taking physical form whenever enough people believe in it. And the more who believe, the more powerful it becomes."
"So..." Applejack spoke slowly, turning the facts over in her mind. "It showed itself to the kids so they'd run and tell everypony..."
"And now the whole town is doing the same thing." Twilight looked away, toward the cluster of distant lights on Canter Peak.
All at once, Scootaloo bolted forward and flung herself upon the ground at her hooves, eyes shut tight in a vain effort to hold back tears. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It's my fault!"
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle followed close behind, and in a few moments the whole story had tumbled out amongst sobs and apologies: the contest, the old book, their plan to fool the town.
"And he looks the way he does," Apple Bloom said at last, "because we imagined him that way!"
With this final revelation, the three prostrated themselves face-down, their hooves over their heads as if to ward off punishing blows. Applejack and Twilight were upon them in an instant, nuzzling and whispering assurances. "Shh..." "It's okay..." "You couldn't have known..."
Zecora at first made to do the same, but stopped and stood tall, standing guard over the pool of magic light. It was she who first noticed the stocky figure who emerged from the darkness a moment later, panting from exertion and running as fast as his stubby legs could go.
"Twilight, Twilight!"
Said pony raised her head and smiled in relief at the sight of the newcomer. "Spike?"
Spike stopped beside Twilight and rested his hands on his knees, speaking between haggard breaths. "I've been looking all over for you. Everything's gone crazy. What happened?"
"Krastos is real, and everypony is running scared."
"No!" Spike's interjection was one of disbelief, not denial.
"We need help," Twilight said firmly. "Where's Rainbow Dash?"
"W-what?"
"I sent Rainbow to tell you to send a letter!" Twilight scrambled to her hooves, and a tremor of worry crept into her tone. "Where is she?"
Spike threw his palms wide. "I haven't seen her since this morning!"
All stood still. There was no sound, save the whimpering of the three fillies.
Twilight was the first to act, raising one hoof to her chest, breathing deeply, and making a casting-away motion. When she spoke, her voice was flat. "Spike, take a letter, please."
There followed a momentary search for anything that could be written upon, and Zecora was the first to spot a leaflet half-hidden by a wagon's wheel. They had no quill, so Twilight scorched a message upon the back with a narrow beam of magic heat. Without waiting, Spike snatched the note and sent it in an unusually strong burst of green flame.
"All right," Twilight said. "Now, we sit tight until..."
With an unexpected belch, Spike ejected an apparent response, and Twilight grabbed it from the air before it could reach the ground. She glanced over it once, twice, then wordlessly turned it to show the others.
It was the same note they had just sent.
"W-what does it mean?" Applejack said, looking up from where she still lay hugging a trembling Apple Bloom.
Zecora's ears flattened, and she absently kicked a little at the ground. "With this event, it would appear, he's grown more powerful, I fear."
"Okay..." Twilight again scanned the note, as if in the hope that her eyes might have deceived her. "Okay, okay... We can send a priority telegram instead..."
"Princess!"
The shout came from an alley beyond the main street and arrived along with a drumming of hooves on cobblestone. Before anyone could call back, Turner burst into the pool of light, followed close by Pinkie and Rarity.
"Dr. Turner!" Severity entered Twilight's voice as the newcomers drew close. "Why are the lights still off?"
Turner halted in front of her and spasmodically gestured into the distance behind him. "The lines are out!"
"Well, fix them!"
"No, I mean they're gone !" Turner's voice cracked on the last word.
"What do you mean 'gone'?" By now, Twilight was almost yelling in his face.
"I mean gone!" Turner struck the ground with one hoof. "The lines were cut at the power station, and they've vanished as far as we dared search!"
Behind him, Pinkie and Rarity gravely nodded assent.
"Well...!" The intended reprimand caught in Twilight's throat as the facts sank in. Her next words came out low and flat, and instead of meeting Turner's eyes, she began to stare straight through him. "The telegraph runs on electricity. Spike's magic isn't working. Our fastest flyer... We're completely cut off." She turned back to Zecora. "Okay, you know more about tulpas than anyone else here. I am officially open to ideas."
Zecora, her face lined with concern, scratched at the ground with the edge of a forehoof, as if the cobblestones might yield some secret. "This tulpa is a thought made true..." She spoke slowly, as if turning the notion over in her mind. "Perhaps there's one thing we can do."
All present turned toward her, expectation on their features. The fillies, whose sobbing had ceased, began to rise to their hooves.
"Fights with ideas may be won." She stood tall and looked left and right, scanning for something in the distance. "If we act quick, it can be done."
"What do you have in mind?" Twilight said.
By this time, the moon had begun to rise, casting silver light over the town's rooftops. Zecora's gaze stopped upon the open space near the schoolhouse outside of town, visible through a gap between houses.
With a curt turn of her head indicating for the others to follow, Zecora set off for it at a brisk trot.
Taller than the steeple of city hall, Krastos the Glue Maker towered over the edge of town, his sickle and shears poised to strike. He had appeared there all at once, and if someone had looked closely at just the right time, they might have seen a flash of magenta light. Twilight hovered around and around the illusion, adding details and concentrating to keep herself in the air as she worked.
Between the illusion's feet, Turner stood nearly head-to-head with Zecora, assisting her as she measured different fluids, borrowed from the chemist's market wagon, into a tall iron pot. Off to one side, six ponies stood together—three mares looking on, and three fillies behind them, trying to avert their eyes from the sight of the thing.
Among these, it was Rarity who spoke first, quietly enough that only those next to her could hear. "I hate to say it, but this plan does depend a bit too much on luck. The illusion is detailed enough to look genuine, yes. But for one thing, enough ponies need to look up and see it..."
Before she could say another word, Zecora nodded to the doctor, and he leapt back from the pot with a cry of "Everypony cover your ears!" before they both flattened themselves on the ground and took this exact advice.
No sooner had all those present done so than there was a mighty bang! , which echoed along the town's streets and over the fields about them. A great billow of crimson smoke erupted from the pot. It rose straight upward, not as a single puff, but as a columnous plume that ran among and over the details of the image of Krastos, casting some into contrast and hiding others from one second to the next. Even to those at the illusion's base, who had been watching the proceedings, the un-thing before them looked as though it had just emerged from the mouth of Tartarus.
As planned, Twilight propelled herself upward, surrounded herself with a brilliant horn-glow, and began flying around the illusion's head in broad circles. Finally, she added one more detail to the illusion: blasts of alicorn battle-magic, streaking from her horn to the head and body of Krastos. In seeming response, it raised its arms and tried, unsuccessfully of course, to strike its diminutive attacker.
"They'd have to be blind and deaf to miss that ," Applejack said from Rarity's left.
"I... suppose," Rarity said, a little cautious optimism entering her voice. "I simply hope enough ponies see it so that awful tulpa thing really is weakened."
To Rarity's right, Pinkie made a shushing sound. "Weren't you listening? Belief makes tulpas stronger or weaker! We have to will this plan to work!" She glared at the mock battle above. "This is gonna work. This is gonna work. Come on, help me chant! This is gonna work..."
Gazing up, the others made to follow her advice, but were interrupted by a loud clang from the iron pot. They looked back down in time to see two objects roll from the top of the hillock. The first was the pot, which was now on its side, spilling a quantity of pale fluid across the ground. This produced a loud hiss, bubbled, released one last puff of smoke, and fizzled out. The second object—small, grey, vaguely oblong—bounced and rolled down the hillock, coming to a stop at the hooves of the three mares.
It was the severed head of the statue of Celestia.
Someone had thrown it and knocked over the pot.
As the three stood frozen at the sight, Turner, who had narrowly missed being struck by the head, reared up and wheeled about. "Who threw that? Who..."
Zecora lowered her head and kicked at the dirt. "It is him," she said.
All at once, there followed a flurry of action. Rarity cast the widest horn-glow she could, though it did not reach far. With sharp urging, she and Applejack formed an escort for the fillies, herding them with all speed toward the hillock where Zecora and Turner stood scanning the darkness beyond the glow. Pinkie leapt into the air and shouted as loud as she could: "Twilight, help! He's here!"
The illusion vanished, leaving only the last of the rising smoke. Through this came Twilight in a sheer dive, only slowing just in time to plant four hooves heavily upon the hillock. There followed a brief confusion of activity and exclamations—"Where is he?" "I can't see him!" "Keep looking!" "Mind the young 'uns!"—as the adults formed a circle around the fillies. They stood looking outward, so that no direction was not watched. Twilight and Rarity flooded as much ground as they could with hornglow, casting long shadows from objects in every direction. But hornglow could not replace sunlight, and everyone knew it would be easy to hide in the shadow of a tree, or a boulder, or the schoolhouse that stood on the next hillock over.
They waited, all straining eyes and ears, trying to calm the hammering of their pulses. One, two, three minutes passed.
It was Rarity who broke the silence. "Well, he's clearly outnumbered." She turned her head back to look at her companions. "I don't think he'll..."
Her statement ended with an abortive choking gasp. Everypony turned to see her trying in vain to brace against the turf while a lasso, thrown about her neck with unerring aim, dragged her fast toward the dark beyond. Zecora, Pinkie, and Turner rushed to grab the rope's near end, but Twilight, with a yell that was part war-cry and part terrified scream, flitted over the whole company and landed between them and rope's unseen owner, horn leveled to attack. There followed as fearsome a torrent of magical bolts as was ever seen on the battlefields of Equestrian history. As Twilight strafed her head from side to side, objects before her burst in flashes of red and orange light, super-heated in an instant: stones exploded, trees and bushes went up in smoke, and small craters pockmarked the soil.
The rope went slack, and the others pulled the lasso from Rarity's neck. As she sat panting and blinking, trying to regain her breath, they formed a three-point guard around her.
At last the fusillade of bolts ceased, and Twilight stood, panting from exertion and scanning the small field of smoldering embers before her.
"I think I got it," she said. "But just to be safe, we'll head back to my castle and look tomorrow..."
Beside Twilight, a shape moved.
Neither she nor anyone else had seen or heard this shape approach, and there was no time even to look toward it before a tremendous blow came down on her head, and she crumpled to the ground, stunned. But her companions saw the shape—tall, thin, two-legged, and dressed in a broad hat and long coat made of some unrecognizable material. Time slowed in their vision, and they froze, trapped between the instincts to fight or flee. The shape stooped down and seized Twilight by the horn, lifting her up as though she were a fresh kill. It raised its right hand, in which it held a fiendishly curved sickle. This it moved toward Twilight's exposed throat.
But it hesitated, for without warning the air was filled with a single long, brassy sound.
The air vibrated with it—a long whole note that sang of joy, and warmth, and light. The conscious minds of the ponies and zebra began to turn back from the abyss of animal terror, and as one they looked up toward the source of the music.
It was the bell in the schoolhouse's tower.
It rang out again, and this time both Twilight and the sickle fell as the shape pressed both hands to the sides of its head. A second sound joined the first—a high shrieking that was like a knife in the eardrums of those around it. It was a few seconds before they realized: This noise was coming from the shape.
At the third toll of the bell, the thing bent forward, contorting this way and that as its screaming grew louder. The brimmed hat fell from its head, and beneath was only darkness—a shadow, or perhaps a silhouette, made solid and marked only with two points of unblinking red light.
The fourth toll. The shape sank to one knee as a small figure broke from the trio who had been cowering on the hillock, weaving between the legs of the adults, galloping forth and stopping close enough to look straight into the lights.
"You're not real!" Fresh tears wetted Scootaloo's cheeks as she raised her small voice against the noise. "And... and I'm not afraid!"
The thing did not move to strike, but recoiled from her even as it writhed in agony. It was then that the small band of defenders saw they were not alone, for the figures of ponies began to emerge into the pool of light with cautious steps—the remaining townsfolk, drawn by the illusory sound and sight of their liege lord battling a gigantic monster.
The fifth toll. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle galloped to Scootaloo's side, and the three shouted as one: "You're not real, and I'm not afraid!"
From within its long coat, the shape produced three tails—two of ponies and one of a donkey. It brandished them about as it struggled to rise to its feet, and those close enough to see flinched back at the sight. But at the sound of the sixth toll, it spasmed, dropped its trophies, and fell back upon the ground.
The remaining defenders of the hillock, along with a few of the foremost townsfolk, rushed to the fillies' rescue. But then they saw the shape and realized the impossible: It had been hurt. One by one, they added their own voices to the chorus, which grew louder with each second as more and more arrived. In their midst, Twilight struggled to her hooves, shook herself, and joined them. Soon dozens of them surrounded it, and the killer had no more shadow to flee to. It recoiled inward, as if trying to hide within itself, at every repeated chant: "You are not real, and we are not afraid!"
The seventh toll rang out, a louder and clearer note than ever the bell had sang in years of existence. The shape's howl of pain and rage might have been heard from the heavens. Now from one place, then another and another, shafts of blood-light shone from jagged cracks in the body and limbs of the thing—multiplying, growing, joining together, until the shape was more crack than shadow, and the witnesses averted their eyes, for the light had grown too much. At last there came a flash of brilliant white light that banished the red, and for a moment lit the environs like the day. Then it was gone, and silence and night returned.
And behold: A burn upon the earth was all that remained of Krastos the Glue Maker.
But now, more sounds from the bell tower: A groan of pain, and hooves on roof tiles. Ponies looked up to see a silhouette leap from the roof's edge and glide unsteadily toward them on ragged wings. They made way for it as it approached, for it did not slow enough to keep from tumbling end over end upon its landing before sprawling flat on its back.
A few primary feathers were missing, the blue coat was marred by smears of dried glue, and the colorful mane was matted in rust-red patches of dried blood. But there was no mistaking the living, breathing image of Rainbow Dash.
With cries of relief, her friends fell upon her at once, hugging her, scolding her for scaring them, plying her with jumbled questions. Bit by bit, with many pauses for breath, Rainbow answered.
"It almost got me... Chased me all over... Hid in the bell tower... Passed out... Woke up, saw it was gonna kill ya... Tried to distract it." She tried to roll over, found she could not, and settled for raising her forehooves up and casting an imploring look at the ponies standing around her. "Little help?"
In spite of it all, somepony laughed.
One year later, Twilight and Applejack met upon the path leading to the old schoolhouse.
They nodded hello and fell into step, plodding toward the school. Autumn leaves rustled underhoof. The path had begun to sprout grass, for want of use.
"How does Apple Bloom like the new teacher?" Twilight said at last.
"Fine," Applejack said. "Miss Scribbler is fine."
"Well, good. And the new schoolhouse?"
"It's nothin' like the old one. That's what matters."
Silence fell again. A moment later, the two emerged from the edge of a copse of trees, and the old school came into view. But for the unkept grass and bushes around it, and the mildew on the windows, it looked nearly ready to open. The two mares stopped at the bottom of the hillock, and remembered.
"I've decided what will be done," Twilight said.
"That's good," Applejack said. There was no gladness nor edge nor affect in her voice. She merely said it.
"The schoolhouse and grounds will be preserved in perpetuity. So will the houses of..." A little crease appeared on Twilight's forehead and was gone just as quickly. "... The victims. Each will have memorials, and there will be a historical marker here." She indicated a prominent spot on the lawn, near to the path.
"What'll it say?"
"I'm working on that—researching how markers are written." Twilight's gaze drifted up, as if to avoid looking at the battleground too long. "It has to be perfect."
"What good will it do?" This time, a little harshness crept into Applejack's tone.
Twilight looked to her friend, blinking in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"You build a memorial. Fine." Applejack glared a little and pointedly stared forward. "What good does it do?"
"Everypony will know what happened."
"Doesn't do our dead much good, does it." Applejack's words were flat.
Twilight took a long breath before answering. "What do you suggest?"
"I don't know." Applejack began to study the ground between her forehooves. "It happened, and all we can say is we stopped it before it killed anyone else. But what's even the point of it all? Nopony gained anything; nopony would be worse off if it had never happened. Apple Bloom..." She shut her eyes tight, and her voice cracked. "She has night terrors, Twilight. I don't know if they'll ever stop. And she still hasn't tried to talk to her friends again."
Slow, with utmost tenderness, Twilight extended one wing, draped it over Applejack's shoulders, leaned close, and spoke softly. "You're right. That's why this is important. The old zebra shamans' hiding of the truth didn't work; we won't make their mistake. Because everyone will know we destroyed that thing, it will never be able to come back again. The truth will serve as a warning to all people not to let themselves be destroyed by ideas."
At the last word, Applejack's eyes flew open, and she wrenched away from Twilight's embrace. Her next words were spoken through gritted teeth. "You call that thing an 'idea'?"
Twilight spoke quickly and waved a foreleg in an allaying gesture. "Applejack, tulpas are ideas! There are good ideas and there are bad ones. This wasn't the first time ponies have been killed because of a bad idea."
"So?" Anger and sorrow were wrapped in a single word.
Twilight hung her head. "So, there is something else that we can do—that we must do. The Bearer of Kindness is dead, but did Kindness die with her?"
Before Applejack could answer, the schoolbell rang.
Both ponies jumped in surprise, and as the air around them vibrated, Applejack dashed into the schoolhouse while Twilight flitted up to perch on the roof beside the short bell-tower. They searched inside and out, and they disturbed the year's layer of dust, and they flung open every door and cupboard.
But no one was there.
Meeting outside the door a few minutes later, they looked first at each other, then up at the tower, then back, each expecting the other to remark on what had just happened. At last, Applejack turned and began to proceed down the path.
"Come on, Twilight."
"Where?"
"I think the others might be in need of company."
