Mimetosby flipwixChaptersCecityPhantasmPerceptionCecityThe streets of Ponyville were relatively quiet that evening, save for a lone mare who appeared to be balancing two rather dissimilar tasks—walking and reading, though the latter task was clearly of far more interest to her. To her credit, the mare seemed to be doing a rather good job of navigating the dark town in spite of the book she had her nose in. The soft glow of the moon was the only light she had to read by besides the street lamps she passed under, but this didn’t bother her; she’d long grown accustomed to reading in the dark, and her eyes were rather good at adjusting to such conditions. Besides—it provided wonderful atmosphere for the murder mystery novel that she was currently too invested in to put down. As she trotted along the empty streets, she paused a moment to stretch her muzzle back and adjust the straps of her saddlebags, as they’d slipped a bit from their proper place. This was the unfortunate consequence of being somewhat lanky but not quite enough to properly fit the next size up; so many of her things seemed to fit too loose, but when the alternative was to cut off all circulation she supposed she would take what she could get. Had she known a good tailor, perhaps this would be something she could have easily gotten fixed—but alas. She knew no such pony, or at least not close enough to ask for favors. Heavens knew she couldn’t afford to get all her things tailored, and were she to only have one or two things fixed the incompleteness of it would surely drive her completely up the wall. But these were not thoughts she should be troubling herself with when there was a mystery novel to be focusing on. Shadow Spade’s adventures always did fill her with a sense of such intrigue and suspense, even if she personally thought the author could have done without some of the long costume descriptions at times. Nonetheless, they were wonderful stories in all other respects, and great inspiration for herself when she was feeling particularly unmotivated. Not that motivation necessarily mattered a great deal, she supposed—discipline was a far more important thing in most occasions, and she found that proper scheduling worked wonders when it came to making sure she did things when they should be done. Still, motivation helped. She let herself become totally absorbed in the book for a while, and in figuring out just who might have been responsible for the griffin ambassador Giovanni’s death. With her mind as focused on the book as it was, the mare hardly noticed her surroundings any more than it took to take the correct turns as she travelled—so it wasn’t exactly a surprise (though still an annoyance) when she suddenly collided with another pony, one who had been going markedly faster than she had, causing her book to go flying as she tumbled to the ground rather gracelessly. “Ow,” Evening Star muttered, face down in the earth, before she felt another pony’s hoof prod her side. “You alright?” came a vaguely familiar voice, tinged with concern, though it was not one that she especially recognized. Groaning in assent, she took a moment to pick herself up and try and shake some of the dirt off of her coat. “Didn’t mean to go runnin’ into you like that,” said the other pony apologetically, and as Evening Star finally looked at her, she recalled that she was one of the ponies who worked out on the nearby apple farm. Not anypony she particularly knew, though. “It’s fine,” she muttered, noticing with a mournful sigh that her book—her new book, that she had just purchased today—had not only been damaged superficially in the fall, but had also closed when it landed. Now she’d have to find her place again! “You should really get inside, though,” the farmpony (she did not recall her name) continued, as if she hadn’t noticed Evening Star’s annoyance at all. “Don’t suppose you noticed how empty the streets are? A cragadile’s gotten loose from the Everfree Forest, and it ain’t safe to wander none until we can clear it out.” Seeming to notice the mild shock in the other mare’s eyes, she gave her a kindly pat on the shoulder. “You should be fine if you go straight home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to catch up to my friends. See ya ‘round!” Without waiting for her reply, the farmpony galloped off, and as she turned to watch her go, Evening Star saw five other ponies watching from just down the street, apparently having stopped to wait for their friend. She did not know any of them personally, but knew one of their names at least—but then, everypony did. The Princess of Friendship stood among her friends with a benign smile on her face, nodding as her friend rejoined the group and then taking off to lead them towards their foe with a few graceful flaps of her wings. That was just typical, she supposed. Ponyville seemed to have a new manner of threat every other day, whether it was large or small. Rolling her eyes, Evening Star turned to keep walking, lifting up her book with a hoof and sighing again as she started searching for where she had left off. Before she knew it, her hooves had carried her home—or the closest thing she had to it, she supposed—and, frowning slightly to herself, she retrieved a bookmark, marked the place she’d gotten to, and then tucked her book away into her saddlebag. Trotting up the steps, she rapped twice on the door to announce her arrival before she dared open the door—she’d learned her lesson after she’d been chewed out for walking in on her roommate in a particularly compromising position once, when she’d gotten hold of one of Evening Star’s more trashy, sappy romance novels and been in the middle of a good cry over it. “Come in!” called the voice from inside, and Evening Star entered the wagon without a second thought. It was, admittedly, rather cramped in here—or, well, a lot cramped. But there was, at the very least, enough space for two mares to sleep (despite some discomfort at the lack of space), and that was good enough for her. The close quarters did mean Evening Star woke up sometimes due to being kicked—the unfortunate result of having a roommate who moved around a lot in her sleep—but that was fine, too; she could always use the free time to work on her writing, anyway. Not that she could do it inside, with how small it was. But that was beside the point. “Hi, Trixie,” she sighed, letting a bit of her exasperation seep into her voice without entirely meaning to. Her roommate seemed focused on some new manner of magical trick she was practicing in the small scale—and Evening wondered briefly if perhaps she should leave the wagon for a while in case of any … accidents. As soon as the thought had crossed her mind, however, the light at the end of Trixie’s horn went out, and she turned her attention to Evening Star with one eyebrow raised. “What’s got you down in the dumps?” she asked, crossing her hooves in front of her and tilting her head expectantly. “You know you can tell Trixie what’s wrong.” Evening Star suppressed an eye roll at the patronizing tone her friend had used, reminding herself that it was just the way she was, and moved over to sit in the corner of the wagon near her, her saddlebags dropping to the floor. “Honestly, it’s nothing,” she said wearily. “Just another monster wreaking havoc in Ponyville. I swear, these crises are happening more and more often lately.” “Wow,” replied Trixie somewhat disdainfully, raising that single eyebrow even higher. “That is nothing. Honestly, Evening, this must be the hundredth time by now! You can’t really be worried anymore, can you?” She laughed a little, giving her roommate what seemed to be a good-natured prod on the side as if to punctuate her words. Evening Star didn’t feel like going to the trouble of pointing out that it wasn’t fear or worry that made the constant disasters bothersome, but instead her own annoyance that they would be happening at all. “Of course,” she mumbled. “You’re right.” She felt for her book in her bag almost entirely out of habit, pulling it out and staring at it for a few moments instead of actually reading it. Trixie broke the brief silence then. “Want me to put that on your shelf for you?” she offered with that air of superiority she always had, grinning and gesturing to the shelf they’d installed high overhead near the very top of the wagon as if Evening Star didn’t already know where it was. With the lack of space in their living quarters, she’d had to get inventive when it came to storing her books, not that she had many more anyway. Before she could answer, Trixie had already lit up her horn, apparently eager to demonstrate her growing magical prowess. Evening Star forced down the sudden and inexplicable envy she was stricken by at the action, wondering where it had come from. “Thank you, Trixie,” she said quietly. She didn’t have the heart to tell her roommate that she could have easily shelved it herself (as it was no trouble for her to reach the shelf if she flew), nor did she mention that she’d actually been planning to read it before bed tonight; as it was, she wasn’t sure she could focus anyway. As she watched, the unicorn levitated the book up and slid it onto the shelf with a little squeak of delight. At least one of them was pleased. It was more or less time to turn in for the night, but even after Trixie had put away her things and curled up to do so, Evening Star could not stop her mind from going back to what she had said earlier. Honestly, Evening, this must be the hundredth time by now…! She had called her Evening, and her heart twinged a bit in melancholy at the knowledge. Her own name had never felt quite right, she supposed … but she recalled a time when Trixie had called her Star, when they’d been closer. Perhaps they’d never been best friends, but -- Well. It didn’t matter anymore. Trixie had met Starlight Glimmer, and then Evening could not be Star anymore, not when Trixie’s best friend was clearly more deserving of the title. She didn’t know why it hurt so much, but it did. She was being silly, she knew. She’d never been one to fret over silliness like that before. She’d always been more concerned with literature than she had been with a social life, and she had never had any regrets for that. Her books sold well enough, when she could push herself hard enough to write them, and wasn’t that enough? To the ponies who read the works she put out, she was important. So why didn’t it feel like enough anymore? She didn’t understand. She had never had any friends, not besides Trixie, and even that was more of a friendship of convenience than anything, as she’d helped Trixie with marketing in exchange for sharing her wagon while she wrote and sold her books. The travelling, she knew, was useful experience for her own writing. But then why had she stayed when Trixie had more or less decided to park the wagon in Ponyville indefinitely? They hadn’t moved on to a new town in what felt like ages. So what kept her rooted to the wagon? Was she really that desperate for companionship? Deep down, she was certain she knew the answer—at least to why she had stayed. Evening Star might have prided herself on being unconcerned by friends and social silliness, but deep down, she was lonely—too lonely, in truth, to face the idea of leaving. She shivered, blinking back the wetness in her eyes in the darkness and trying not to hiccup. She was fortunate Trixie seemed to be a heavy sleeper. Eventually, Evening Star felt herself drifting off too, her face sticky with still-drying tears. She opened her eyes to pure darkness, as she had for weeks now. She could vaguely remember a time in which she had dreamed, but that time was gone. Now sleep brought with it only herself and the lonely void, its inky blackness surrounding her until it came time to awaken again. The silence was pleasant, in a way. She sat in solitude in the emptiness and closed her eyes, though it made no real difference either way. A distant sound made her snap them open again. There had never been noise in the void before. Eyes wide and the first hints of fear flaring up in chest, Evening Star strained her ears, glancing about her wildly as if she might make out shapes in the darkness. There was nothing around her. As she listened, she began to realize that the sound was a voice—but greatly muffled, as if being heard from both underwater and far away all at once. There was an urgency to it—and yet, try as she might, she could not pick out the words. “Who are you?” she called out into the darkness, frantic now. “Please!” Then, abruptly, a question bubbled up from within her unbidden, falling from her mouth like a sudden torrent of rainwater through an unpatched hole: “Who am I?!” The voice grew almost imperceptibly louder, even as Evening Star’s wild eyes searched the emptiness for any sign of its origin. She could, at last, make out one word - “... Sparkle …!” Sparkle. Her. She was Sparkle. She knew not why she was so certain of this, but she was, and suddenly her desperation became motivated not by fear of the unfamiliar but instead panic as she realized the dream was ending. No! She had to know more! Had to… “--Sparkle!” came the voice again, and the mare’s ears fell to pin themselves against her skull as the darkness crumbled around her. She woke up. Author's Note just an experimental thing i intend to update every 1-3 days until its completion. hope you enjoyed, possibly! PhantasmTrixie was still asleep when Evening gathered her things to leave the wagon—but early as it might have been, she felt a strong need for the fresh air. Not to mention how hungry she currently was. Maybe by the time she made it to the marketplace, there’d be a store or two open. Perhaps she could pick up some of those cinnamon dusted nuts Trixie liked so much while she was out as well. Pausing in the doorway, she deliberated for a moment on whether or not to bother leaving a note, but in the end decided to do so for the principle of it regardless of whether or not Trixie would actually be worried. Fortunately, she always kept a notepad and quill on hoof - it wouldn’t do to be without them when inspiration struck her, after all. Trixie, I needed to head out to pick up some things. Don’t wait up for me. Evening Sparkle Satisfied with the note she’d penned, Evening moved to stick it to the door for Trixie to see later—until she noticed, as her eyes scanned back over it once more, the error she’d made in her own name. Or was it an error? She supposed many things felt more real than they should in dreams, but somehow she didn’t think this was one such case. Sparkle did feel like it belonged to her somehow, and the slip she’d just made only further cemented the feeling. Evening Sparkle certainly felt more right than Evening Star. Still—that didn’t mean Trixie would understand it. Scratching out the latter half of the name she’d signed, Evening Sparkle fixed the note quickly and then left it in its proper place, leaving the wagon with her (rather heavy) saddlebags in tow as she always did. She doubted her empty stomach was helping much with her frazzled mind, so the sooner she could find something to eat, the better. Again, she found herself relatively alone in Ponyville’s streets, though at the very least the few ponies she did see reassured her that there wasn’t another monster situation going on. It was simply a bit early to be out and about. The soft moonlight was a comfort, at the least, filling her with a sense of safety and familiarity that she couldn’t quite explain. Evening headed first towards the area where the cinnamon nut stand was usually set up, though she was beginning to get the feeling that the whole outing was an exercise in pointlessness. The lack of any ponies around meant that the odds of the shopkeepers having stores open was rather low. Nevertheless, she trotted towards the street corner like a pony on a mission, stopping only when she reached the place and was forced to admit with a sigh that the trip had indeed been a bust. There was nopony there. The gnawing in her stomach was uncomfortable enough that Evening Sparkle couldn’t simply give up hope. Perhaps there would be a few stores open already, if she were lucky. She was not. Only one store appeared to have any lights on this early—a sweets shop that Evening really didn’t think sounded like a healthy breakfast. Still, she was practically starving, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Sighing heavily, she pushed her way into the shop and glanced around. The bright and lively decor—which was predominantly a nauseating shade of pink—did not exactly help her mood, much as it might have been intended to lift ponies’ spirits. Her eyes fell upon the counter, and Evening Sparkle nearly did a double take when she took in the pony there, a dull gray earth pony with a spiritless expression who looked just about as out of place among the vibrant pinks and blues as a Diamond Dog in Abyssinia. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner,” said the pony in a completely flat voice, face unchanging as she stared at Evening. The pegasus could not help but feel a bit unnerved. “Um. Yes. Hello,” she said, her gaze drifting down to the pony’s chest, upon which a sticky note poorly masquerading as a name tag had been placed. “Maud,” it read in rather unprofessional-looking bubbly hoofwriting, complete with a heart and a smiley face for punctuation. The writing appeared to be in blue crayon. “What can I get you?” asked ‘Maud♥😊’, though ‘intoned’ would have been more accurate. The characteristic rise in pitch that came with a question was completely absent—the pony’s voice was as toneless as it had been before. Right. Food. That was why she was here. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, Evening Sparkle let her eyes wander over the display cases, frowning at the number of cupcakes and cakes that filled them. Wasn’t there anything with less than a day’s worth of frosting on it? Finally, she noticed a basket of blueberry muffins on the far right, and figured there was likely no better option. She lifted her head to meet Maud’s gaze again—and was more than a little perplexed to come face to face with that same apathetic look that she had been sporting since Evening Sparkle had entered the store. “Do you work here?” Evening blurted out before she could stop herself, wondering if perhaps it was the environment that seemed to be boring the earth pony so much. “No,” Maud replied simply. There was a beat of silence. “Okay, well,” Evening Sparkle said at last, deciding it didn’t matter whether Maud was a regular employee or not. Curious as she might have been, she was first and foremost starving. “I’d like a muffin, please.” She gestured with one hoof at the blueberry muffins she’d just been looking at. “Okay,” said Maud. “That’s two bits.” The two traded bits for food, and after the exchange was done, Evening Sparkle headed for the door with the muffin bag held in her muzzle. Her mouth watered at the scent of it, close to her nose as it was, but she reminded herself she’d be eating soon enough. As she pushed through the doorway, she could barely hear Maud’s dispassionate voice over the sound of the door—”Thanks for coming in.” Except Evening Sparkle also thought that she heard the pony say something else at the end of the statement—something that had sounded like Sparkle. Eyes wide, she dropped the bag in the doorway and rushed back to the counter. “What did you say?” she gasped. “Thanks for coming in,” Maud repeated, expression unchanging. “...Right,” Evening said, feeling like a stone had lodged itself in her chest. “Thank you.” Sighing, she turned to leave once more, picking her bag back up (thankfully the muffin had not fallen out) and not allowing herself a glance backwards. This… Whatever this was, it was getting to her. She was hearing things now, and suddenly Evening’s certainty of her name wavered. What if she was just imagining how right the name had felt? She had spent a disproportionate amount of time these past few weeks off by herself writing or reading, and often cooped up in that tiny wagon; maybe she was experiencing some kind of pseudo-cabin fever? Frowning, she made her way over to a vacant bench and sat down to eat her muffin. To her disappointment, somehow the confection did not taste quite as delicious as it had smelled—though that may have been in part because it was a bit smushed (courtesy of her having dropped it.) The taste, sweet and slightly tart those it was, was mellower than she had expected, just slightly off somehow, and on top of that she found her stomach still complaining by the end. Glaring down at her grumbling belly, she told it (not aloud, of course) to quiet down, frustrated at its illogical actions. Maybe she should have bought two muffins. Hmm. She should probably wait around until the cinnamon nut stand opened. Besides, she could use a distraction from whatever oddities had been plaguing her mind, and writing would do well enough to help with that. Pulling out her notepad, Evening Sparkle sat and wrote for a long while—hours, probably, though she didn’t check—until the streets around her became just loud enough that they threatened to throw off her focus. This was as good a time as any to stop for now, so she stowed the notepad once more and stood up from the bench, preparing to go find the stand again. Since Evening Sparkle had expected the short trip there to pass without issue, however, the world of course had conspired to prove her wrong. She’d barely made it three steps when a pony careened into her, landing her face-down in the dirt (again) and considerably nettled. What was it with ponies and running into her? This pony was a great deal less considerate than the farmpony had been, not seeming nearly as concerned about her wellbeing or offering to help her up as she got back to her hooves with a huff of irritation. “Sorry ‘bout that!” said the colorful-maned pegasus, hovering before her with a somewhat sheepish expression on her face. “Got somewhere to be—you know how it is!” Evening opened her mouth to ask why she’d been flying so low, but did not get the chance to say anything, as before she knew it the other mare was turning away from her. Apparently having stuck around only long enough to make sure Evening was not injured, she took off flying once more, and Evening narrowed her eyes as she watched her go. She swore it was like half the ponies in this town hardly noticed her sometimes. It was ridiculous. Once again, she found herself trying to shake the dirt from her fur after such a run-in with another pony—and this was also one she recognized as being among the princess’s friend group, too. Ugh. She could feel her short mane standing up every which way, ruffled by the fall; Evening was by no stretch of the imagination a vain pony, but she’d been teased by Trixie enough times for her lack of care for her own physical appearance that by now at the very least carrying a hairbrush was something she did. Her coat was largely unsalvageable—she would just have to tag along with Trixie when she went to the spa later that day, as it was time for the showmare’s weekly visit—but her mane was at least something that could be easily brushed. She turned to her saddlebag to retrieve said hairbrush. As she reached into the bag, however, her hoof brushed against something entirely different - the pocketwatch Trixie had given her for her birthday last year. On a whim, Evening retrieved it and flipped it open to check the time—but was disappointed to see that the hands had stopped moving. It must have broken when she’d been knocked down, either today or yesterday. That was unfortunate. Sighing, she placed the watch back in the bag and traded it out for her brush, giving her mane a few run-throughs with the thing before she felt satisfied. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. With that out of the way, Evening Sparkle went quickly to check on the status of the stand, hoping that by this time it might be open. This time, her luck was better. Two purchases of cinnamon nuts later—she was still quite hungry, after all—Evening found herself drifting towards the center of town, where she had noticed quite a few ponies moving towards earlier. There was some sort of meeting going on in town hall. Though she wasn’t exactly a citizen of Ponyville, curiosity got the better of her, and she slipped into the crowd and peered up at the stage, where Mayor Mare was currently addressing the gathered ponies. “...and despite the damages caused by the cragadile, the Princess and her friends disposed of it with ease,” the mayor was saying. With a smile, she stepped aside and gestured proudly to six ponies standing behind her on the stage—one of whom was the pegasus who’d collided with Evening earlier. This was where she’d needed to be? Wow, Evening thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. These sorts of meetings seemed to be held every other day lately. She wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered checking what was being discussed. “The Princess has also generously offered to donate some of her royal funds to cover the damages!” Mayor Mare continued, but Evening was already turning to leave, attention waning. With the frequency of the crises lately, she saw no real point in attending the same meeting day after day, especially when its only purpose seemed to be to praise the princess and her friends. As she turned, however, she caught sight of something in the sky, rapidly approaching the center of town—and it did not look friendly. Eyes widening, Evening gasped as she recognized the creature as a winged slingtail, a hostile animal that lived in the Dragonlands and caused all sorts of havoc with their huge, spiked tails. This struck her as odd—a slingtail, all the way here in Ponyville? How had that happened?—but she had no time to truly question it, as the beast was headed straight for town hall and no one but Evening had seemed to notice it. “Look out!” she shouted, pointing with one hoof up at the monster. Was it just her, or were the monster attacks getting even more frequent? There’d just been one yesterday! Around her, she heard cries and gasps as the rest of the ponies took notice of the slingtail—though none of them likely knew it as such. She would have bet she was one of the most well read ponies here. Glancing back towards the stage to see if the ponies there had sprung to action, Evening noticed the fear on the faces of the crowd as she did, as all around her they huddled closer, shrieking and screaming. Abruptly, something changed in Ponyville—just for a heartbeat, a flicker, but noticeable nonetheless. And then, before Evening could truly consider what she was seeing, the Princess of Friendship’s voice rose above the clamor, and the flicker she had seen was gone—”Don’t worry, everypony! We’ll handle this!” Smiling blithely, the princess flew at the threat, the three friends she had who were incapable of flight carried alongside her with her magic and the other two close behind on their own wings. Evening Sparkle turned and galloped back towards home, not fearing the monster in the sky but instead something else entirely. For the briefest of moments, as panic had seized the crowd in Ponyville, the idyllic little town had suddenly changed. The color had gone out of the world around the gathered ponies, leaving only blacks and grays and long, dark shadows surrounding them. Worst of all, though the flicker had been brief, she was certain she had seen the glint of eyes out in the darkness. This time, Evening did not think she was imagining it. She wished she had been. Author's Note see you next time! PerceptionEvening did not so much as slow her pace by a single hoofstep as she ran for home, feeling as if a great fire had been lit underneath her hooves, spurring her onwards. Her wings fluttered at her sides, flapping just enough to hurry her along but not lift her off the ground—her first instinct had never been to take the sky when startled, though if she were to be totally honest, her first instinct hadn’t usually been to flee at all. But she wasn’t fleeing now, even if it might have seemed like it. Instead, Evening Sparkle’s mind was racing as she considered which, if any, of her small collection of books might have any information on what she had just witnessed. Something was clearly not right in Ponyville, and she would not simply sit around while it worsened. There was research that could be done, and by the stars she would do it—anything to help explain what was going on. Suddenly the odd dream she’d had seemed less like some imagined bit of silliness and instead some smaller piece of a puzzle she was nowhere close to understanding the size of. As she rounded the corner towards the wagon, Evening caught sight of her roommate standing directly in her path, not appearing to yet notice her. At the speed she was going—aided by her wings—slowing down would be difficult, if not impossible, at such a small distance, but Evening had had quite enough of colliding with other ponies, and so veered quickly to barrel off towards Trixie’s left side. It was at this unfortunate moment that Trixie spotted her and also took action to avoid collision; to her dismay, said action was to jump to the very same side that she had corrected towards. There was no time to further dwell on the situation, because the next thing Evening knew, she had run headlong into the unicorn, sending both of them to the ground. As she fell, Evening noticed Trixie’s own saddlebag had come loose in the tumble, and was dropping closer to her than it was to Trixie. It would have been quite possible—perhaps even easy—for her to have reached out with one hoof and grabbed it as she fell, preventing at least some of any potential damage, but instead of being logical, Evening’s instinctive reaction was anything but. Inexplicably, she tried to reach out for the bag not with her hooves, but with magic she did not have. The split second passed, and both Evening and the bag hit the ground separately, because of course she couldn’t levitate anything—she was a pegasus. Why had that been her instinct? This time, Evening Sparkle did not pick herself up off the ground even as Trixie did, instead simply laying there in the same heap she had landed in, raising her front hooves to cover her eyes. The universe hates me. She could hear the sound of Trixie picking up her fallen saddlebag; judging by the lack of complaint about it, it was unharmed. “Next time, a little warning would be nice,” Trixie snorted. “You don’t have to look so emotionally traumatized, though. Everypony takes a spill every now and then.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Even Trixie. It’s not a big deal.” When Evening said nothing in reply and didn’t move from her spot on the ground, one of Trixie’s hooves prodded her side a bit too firmly to be comfortable. “Hello? Equestria to Evening Star? Anypony in there?” Evening groaned wordlessly in response, letting out a heavy exhale that shifted her bangs a bit. “Oookay,” Trixie said. “I was about to go meet up with Starlight for our spa session, but it seems like you need a stress reliever a lot more than I do. Wanna come with?” Instead of answering the question directly, Evening rolled onto her side (finally moving her hooves from her face) and blinked up at her roommate, raising an eyebrow. “You might have some difficulty making that appointment,” she said. “There’s another monster attack happening right now.” “Wait, seriously?” Trixie leaned forward, peering down at Evening with narrowed eyes. “Maybe I was too harsh on you yesterday for worrying about it. That is pretty ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes, straightening back up and prodding her once more. “Now are you gonna get up or what? We can just go in like ten minutes. I’m sure the princess will have dealt with it by then. Hey, did you get any cinnamon nuts? Or maybe some pretzels?” Evening huffed and finally stood up, reaching back to nose through her saddle bag for the cinnamon nuts she’d bought for her friend. “Here you go,” she said as she held them out to her, although the fact that she was holding them in her mouth made the words sound a little more like gibberish than anything else. Trixie’s eyes lit up. “You know me so well!” she exclaimed, snatching the bag with her magic and wasting no time in opening it and digging in. Evening pushed past her as she ate, entering the wagon and flying up to examine the spines of the books on her bookshelf. While some of them were mystery or adventure novels, she did have her fair share of nonfiction titles as well—the question was whether or not any of them might have helpful information. Though she was a pegasus, magical theory had always interested her enough that she’d done quite a lot of studying of the topic, and not just for her own writing. She was becoming increasingly certain, as more evidence accumulated, that whatever was wrong with Ponyville, it was definitely something magical. Now if only she knew where to begin looking… Aha! Her copy of the all-purpose magic encyclopedia Magical Compendium, an extremely thick book which took up no less than a sixth of the entirety of the shelf, would surely have something in it that could help. Grabbing it with both hooves (as it was a huge enough title that trying to do otherwise would have likely resulted in catastrophe), she left the wagon once more, struggling a little bit to fly straight while lugging around something so heavy. Trixie squinted at her as she set the book on the grass outside with a rather loud thump, exhaling heavily and trying not to pant from the exertion of just carrying it that far. “Planning to do some light reading at the spa?” Trixie asked teasingly between bites. Evening only nodded, not sure if she trusted her voice at that moment. She was hungry enough to break one of the cardinal rules when it came to reading, and so Evening Sparkle paused to grab her own bag of cinnamon nuts before she flipped the book open to its index, though of course she was very careful not to get anything on its pages. She considered for only a moment which section she should start out looking in before coming to a decision—something like that could only be under the illusion school of magic, surely. Frowning, she tracked one hoof down the page to find where “illusion” would be, but froze when she saw that the numbers to the right of the word were completely illegible. As she watched, they shifted constantly, changing even as she looked on, and her breath caught in her throat. No. Whatever spell had been cast on her book, she was not going to let it stop her from getting to the bottom of this. She didn’t need the index, anyway. Narrowing her eyes, she flipped the pages further with her nose, then leaned back to stare—and stare she did. The text within the book itself was much the same as the numbers had been, constantly shifting and changing at a rate too fast for her to read anything at all. A heavy weight settled in Evening’s chest as she flipped through the rest of the book, but every page was the same. With a cry, she slammed it shut and jumped to her hooves, wings flaring out behind her. “Uh,” came Trixie’s voice, and Evening jumped a little as she whipped her head around to stare at her. “What’s got you so worked up? Writer’s block?” Evening Sparkle opened her mouth, then shut it again. She repeated this a couple more times, struggling to find the words, and wondering if she should say anything at all, until finally she pushed the book over to where Trixie sat, flipping it open to a page at random. Trixie blinked down at it for a moment before she lifted her head again. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” Evening rocked backwards as if she’d been struck. “The—the page!” she sputtered, pointing wildly with one hoof and trying to stop her body from trembling as it did. “Evening,” Trixie said slowly, staring at her. She spoke like she was talking to a foal. “It’s blank. Are you okay?” “What?!” She rushed to look down at the book, but the words on the page still shifted. “I… This book is blank for you? What about the cover?” Her mind raced as she fought to keep calm—to figure out just what was happening here. Trixie stared at her a moment longer, seeming skeptical, but finally she flipped the book closed with her magic and glanced down at it. “It’s blank too. This is one of your journals or something, isn’t it? For you to write your stories in?” Even as she spoke the words, she didn’t sound certain of them. “I’m not gonna lie. You’re kinda scaring me.” Abruptly, Evening fell back onto her haunches, one hoof raising of its own accord to rest against her trembling muzzle. “I’m… I…” Her muscles felt tense, her wings still splayed out behind her as if her body was telling her to run. Closing her eyes tightly, she let out a shaky breath and forced herself to focus. If she was going to explain, and if she wanted Trixie to believe her, looking like a panicked foal wouldn’t help matters at all. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she opened her eyes again and lowered both front hooves to rest on the ground. “I haven’t been dreaming lately,” she said, an eerie calm settling over her words. Starting at the beginning was likely the best way to go about things, she figured. “Instead, I’m in an empty void. I’ve tried not to let it bother me—frankly, I’ve just assumed that it’ll pass in time, and that worrying about it would be pointless. But lately—” Trixie lifted one hoof in a gesture for silence, and Evening faltered, blinking at her. “Wait,” Trixie said. “Like… like you’re surrounded by darkness, right? I’ve seen it too.” Her voice was the most serious Evening Sparkle had ever heard it. “That’s… okay, I’ll admit, that’s really creepy. Especially that we’re both dreaming it.” She took a deep breath. “But what does that have to do with your book?” “The book’s not supposed to be blank,” Evening replied. “I can see the cover and the index—but the inside is … beyond odd. It’s changing, like there’s some sort of spell cast on it.” She paused. “Can you check again? Does it still look blank for you?” Perhaps bringing the weirdness of everything to Trixie’s attention would change the book for her—or apparently not, it seemed, because she nodded as she flipped it open. “Yep,” she affirmed. “Totally empty.” “Alright,” Evening sighed, slowly getting to her hooves. She was relieved that Trixie seemed to be taking this well enough. “I think—I think Ponyville has had some sort of strong illusion or memory charm placed on it. I’d need to gather more evidence before I could say for certain, but that’s my prevailing theory.” “Well, horseapples,” Trixie said. “That doesn’t sound good. Uh, actually, that kind of sounds like hero stuff, not stuff we should be dealing with. Shouldn’t we tell the princess?” She glanced around, ears flattening against the top of her head, and swallowed visibly. “Maybe,” replied Evening Sparkle. She looked away, angling her head towards the ground and shuffling her hooves a bit. “But how can we know who to trust?” The heaviness in her chest had moved to her stomach now. “What? She’s the princess! If we can’t trust her, we’re pretty much doomed!” Trixie exclaimed. Evening heard the sound of her taking a couple of steps back, and lifted her gaze from the grass below to rest it on the other mare instead. Trixie’s jaw was slack, and she shook her head in disbelief even as Evening looked on. “I’m just not sure yet, that’s all. Isn’t it better to be careful?” There was a brief but heavy silence. Then— “Fine,” Trixie said, sighing heavily. “But we are telling Starlight. You can agree to that, can’t you?” “I suppose so,” she replied. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure about telling Starlight either, but if it was what it took to get Trixie on the same page as her, she would do what she had to. Giving her coat a shake as if clearing dirt from it (when, in fact, it was her own trepidation she sought to shake off), Evening turned to the road, depositing her unfinished cinnamon nuts back in her saddlebag. “Shall we go?” “Sounds good to me,” Trixie told her, but the cheeriness of her tone sounded forced. “To the spa!” Then, with an overly dramatic flip of her mane, the unicorn took off at a quick trot, head held high and tail swishing behind her. Rolling her eyes, Evening Sparkle hefted up the heavy tome in her hooves and hurried to follow her (or a certain degree of hurried, considering the weight of the book she held), not wanting to fall behind. Whoever or whatever had cast the magic had surely misjudged her if it thought she would give up just because she’d hit a wall. She would get to the bottom of this, no matter what obstacles stood in her way. Author's Note sorry if this chapter is a bit uhh... lackluster? i've been really sick & feverish lately but i still wanted to force something out ;;;;;; not beta read as always, so if you notice errors please let me know!
CecityThe streets of Ponyville were relatively quiet that evening, save for a lone mare who appeared to be balancing two rather dissimilar tasks—walking and reading, though the latter task was clearly of far more interest to her. To her credit, the mare seemed to be doing a rather good job of navigating the dark town in spite of the book she had her nose in. The soft glow of the moon was the only light she had to read by besides the street lamps she passed under, but this didn’t bother her; she’d long grown accustomed to reading in the dark, and her eyes were rather good at adjusting to such conditions. Besides—it provided wonderful atmosphere for the murder mystery novel that she was currently too invested in to put down. As she trotted along the empty streets, she paused a moment to stretch her muzzle back and adjust the straps of her saddlebags, as they’d slipped a bit from their proper place. This was the unfortunate consequence of being somewhat lanky but not quite enough to properly fit the next size up; so many of her things seemed to fit too loose, but when the alternative was to cut off all circulation she supposed she would take what she could get. Had she known a good tailor, perhaps this would be something she could have easily gotten fixed—but alas. She knew no such pony, or at least not close enough to ask for favors. Heavens knew she couldn’t afford to get all her things tailored, and were she to only have one or two things fixed the incompleteness of it would surely drive her completely up the wall. But these were not thoughts she should be troubling herself with when there was a mystery novel to be focusing on. Shadow Spade’s adventures always did fill her with a sense of such intrigue and suspense, even if she personally thought the author could have done without some of the long costume descriptions at times. Nonetheless, they were wonderful stories in all other respects, and great inspiration for herself when she was feeling particularly unmotivated. Not that motivation necessarily mattered a great deal, she supposed—discipline was a far more important thing in most occasions, and she found that proper scheduling worked wonders when it came to making sure she did things when they should be done. Still, motivation helped. She let herself become totally absorbed in the book for a while, and in figuring out just who might have been responsible for the griffin ambassador Giovanni’s death. With her mind as focused on the book as it was, the mare hardly noticed her surroundings any more than it took to take the correct turns as she travelled—so it wasn’t exactly a surprise (though still an annoyance) when she suddenly collided with another pony, one who had been going markedly faster than she had, causing her book to go flying as she tumbled to the ground rather gracelessly. “Ow,” Evening Star muttered, face down in the earth, before she felt another pony’s hoof prod her side. “You alright?” came a vaguely familiar voice, tinged with concern, though it was not one that she especially recognized. Groaning in assent, she took a moment to pick herself up and try and shake some of the dirt off of her coat. “Didn’t mean to go runnin’ into you like that,” said the other pony apologetically, and as Evening Star finally looked at her, she recalled that she was one of the ponies who worked out on the nearby apple farm. Not anypony she particularly knew, though. “It’s fine,” she muttered, noticing with a mournful sigh that her book—her new book, that she had just purchased today—had not only been damaged superficially in the fall, but had also closed when it landed. Now she’d have to find her place again! “You should really get inside, though,” the farmpony (she did not recall her name) continued, as if she hadn’t noticed Evening Star’s annoyance at all. “Don’t suppose you noticed how empty the streets are? A cragadile’s gotten loose from the Everfree Forest, and it ain’t safe to wander none until we can clear it out.” Seeming to notice the mild shock in the other mare’s eyes, she gave her a kindly pat on the shoulder. “You should be fine if you go straight home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to catch up to my friends. See ya ‘round!” Without waiting for her reply, the farmpony galloped off, and as she turned to watch her go, Evening Star saw five other ponies watching from just down the street, apparently having stopped to wait for their friend. She did not know any of them personally, but knew one of their names at least—but then, everypony did. The Princess of Friendship stood among her friends with a benign smile on her face, nodding as her friend rejoined the group and then taking off to lead them towards their foe with a few graceful flaps of her wings. That was just typical, she supposed. Ponyville seemed to have a new manner of threat every other day, whether it was large or small. Rolling her eyes, Evening Star turned to keep walking, lifting up her book with a hoof and sighing again as she started searching for where she had left off. Before she knew it, her hooves had carried her home—or the closest thing she had to it, she supposed—and, frowning slightly to herself, she retrieved a bookmark, marked the place she’d gotten to, and then tucked her book away into her saddlebag. Trotting up the steps, she rapped twice on the door to announce her arrival before she dared open the door—she’d learned her lesson after she’d been chewed out for walking in on her roommate in a particularly compromising position once, when she’d gotten hold of one of Evening Star’s more trashy, sappy romance novels and been in the middle of a good cry over it. “Come in!” called the voice from inside, and Evening Star entered the wagon without a second thought. It was, admittedly, rather cramped in here—or, well, a lot cramped. But there was, at the very least, enough space for two mares to sleep (despite some discomfort at the lack of space), and that was good enough for her. The close quarters did mean Evening Star woke up sometimes due to being kicked—the unfortunate result of having a roommate who moved around a lot in her sleep—but that was fine, too; she could always use the free time to work on her writing, anyway. Not that she could do it inside, with how small it was. But that was beside the point. “Hi, Trixie,” she sighed, letting a bit of her exasperation seep into her voice without entirely meaning to. Her roommate seemed focused on some new manner of magical trick she was practicing in the small scale—and Evening wondered briefly if perhaps she should leave the wagon for a while in case of any … accidents. As soon as the thought had crossed her mind, however, the light at the end of Trixie’s horn went out, and she turned her attention to Evening Star with one eyebrow raised. “What’s got you down in the dumps?” she asked, crossing her hooves in front of her and tilting her head expectantly. “You know you can tell Trixie what’s wrong.” Evening Star suppressed an eye roll at the patronizing tone her friend had used, reminding herself that it was just the way she was, and moved over to sit in the corner of the wagon near her, her saddlebags dropping to the floor. “Honestly, it’s nothing,” she said wearily. “Just another monster wreaking havoc in Ponyville. I swear, these crises are happening more and more often lately.” “Wow,” replied Trixie somewhat disdainfully, raising that single eyebrow even higher. “That is nothing. Honestly, Evening, this must be the hundredth time by now! You can’t really be worried anymore, can you?” She laughed a little, giving her roommate what seemed to be a good-natured prod on the side as if to punctuate her words. Evening Star didn’t feel like going to the trouble of pointing out that it wasn’t fear or worry that made the constant disasters bothersome, but instead her own annoyance that they would be happening at all. “Of course,” she mumbled. “You’re right.” She felt for her book in her bag almost entirely out of habit, pulling it out and staring at it for a few moments instead of actually reading it. Trixie broke the brief silence then. “Want me to put that on your shelf for you?” she offered with that air of superiority she always had, grinning and gesturing to the shelf they’d installed high overhead near the very top of the wagon as if Evening Star didn’t already know where it was. With the lack of space in their living quarters, she’d had to get inventive when it came to storing her books, not that she had many more anyway. Before she could answer, Trixie had already lit up her horn, apparently eager to demonstrate her growing magical prowess. Evening Star forced down the sudden and inexplicable envy she was stricken by at the action, wondering where it had come from. “Thank you, Trixie,” she said quietly. She didn’t have the heart to tell her roommate that she could have easily shelved it herself (as it was no trouble for her to reach the shelf if she flew), nor did she mention that she’d actually been planning to read it before bed tonight; as it was, she wasn’t sure she could focus anyway. As she watched, the unicorn levitated the book up and slid it onto the shelf with a little squeak of delight. At least one of them was pleased. It was more or less time to turn in for the night, but even after Trixie had put away her things and curled up to do so, Evening Star could not stop her mind from going back to what she had said earlier. Honestly, Evening, this must be the hundredth time by now…! She had called her Evening, and her heart twinged a bit in melancholy at the knowledge. Her own name had never felt quite right, she supposed … but she recalled a time when Trixie had called her Star, when they’d been closer. Perhaps they’d never been best friends, but -- Well. It didn’t matter anymore. Trixie had met Starlight Glimmer, and then Evening could not be Star anymore, not when Trixie’s best friend was clearly more deserving of the title. She didn’t know why it hurt so much, but it did. She was being silly, she knew. She’d never been one to fret over silliness like that before. She’d always been more concerned with literature than she had been with a social life, and she had never had any regrets for that. Her books sold well enough, when she could push herself hard enough to write them, and wasn’t that enough? To the ponies who read the works she put out, she was important. So why didn’t it feel like enough anymore? She didn’t understand. She had never had any friends, not besides Trixie, and even that was more of a friendship of convenience than anything, as she’d helped Trixie with marketing in exchange for sharing her wagon while she wrote and sold her books. The travelling, she knew, was useful experience for her own writing. But then why had she stayed when Trixie had more or less decided to park the wagon in Ponyville indefinitely? They hadn’t moved on to a new town in what felt like ages. So what kept her rooted to the wagon? Was she really that desperate for companionship? Deep down, she was certain she knew the answer—at least to why she had stayed. Evening Star might have prided herself on being unconcerned by friends and social silliness, but deep down, she was lonely—too lonely, in truth, to face the idea of leaving. She shivered, blinking back the wetness in her eyes in the darkness and trying not to hiccup. She was fortunate Trixie seemed to be a heavy sleeper. Eventually, Evening Star felt herself drifting off too, her face sticky with still-drying tears. She opened her eyes to pure darkness, as she had for weeks now. She could vaguely remember a time in which she had dreamed, but that time was gone. Now sleep brought with it only herself and the lonely void, its inky blackness surrounding her until it came time to awaken again. The silence was pleasant, in a way. She sat in solitude in the emptiness and closed her eyes, though it made no real difference either way. A distant sound made her snap them open again. There had never been noise in the void before. Eyes wide and the first hints of fear flaring up in chest, Evening Star strained her ears, glancing about her wildly as if she might make out shapes in the darkness. There was nothing around her. As she listened, she began to realize that the sound was a voice—but greatly muffled, as if being heard from both underwater and far away all at once. There was an urgency to it—and yet, try as she might, she could not pick out the words. “Who are you?” she called out into the darkness, frantic now. “Please!” Then, abruptly, a question bubbled up from within her unbidden, falling from her mouth like a sudden torrent of rainwater through an unpatched hole: “Who am I?!” The voice grew almost imperceptibly louder, even as Evening Star’s wild eyes searched the emptiness for any sign of its origin. She could, at last, make out one word - “... Sparkle …!” Sparkle. Her. She was Sparkle. She knew not why she was so certain of this, but she was, and suddenly her desperation became motivated not by fear of the unfamiliar but instead panic as she realized the dream was ending. No! She had to know more! Had to… “--Sparkle!” came the voice again, and the mare’s ears fell to pin themselves against her skull as the darkness crumbled around her. She woke up. Author's Note just an experimental thing i intend to update every 1-3 days until its completion. hope you enjoyed, possibly!
PhantasmTrixie was still asleep when Evening gathered her things to leave the wagon—but early as it might have been, she felt a strong need for the fresh air. Not to mention how hungry she currently was. Maybe by the time she made it to the marketplace, there’d be a store or two open. Perhaps she could pick up some of those cinnamon dusted nuts Trixie liked so much while she was out as well. Pausing in the doorway, she deliberated for a moment on whether or not to bother leaving a note, but in the end decided to do so for the principle of it regardless of whether or not Trixie would actually be worried. Fortunately, she always kept a notepad and quill on hoof - it wouldn’t do to be without them when inspiration struck her, after all. Trixie, I needed to head out to pick up some things. Don’t wait up for me. Evening Sparkle Satisfied with the note she’d penned, Evening moved to stick it to the door for Trixie to see later—until she noticed, as her eyes scanned back over it once more, the error she’d made in her own name. Or was it an error? She supposed many things felt more real than they should in dreams, but somehow she didn’t think this was one such case. Sparkle did feel like it belonged to her somehow, and the slip she’d just made only further cemented the feeling. Evening Sparkle certainly felt more right than Evening Star. Still—that didn’t mean Trixie would understand it. Scratching out the latter half of the name she’d signed, Evening Sparkle fixed the note quickly and then left it in its proper place, leaving the wagon with her (rather heavy) saddlebags in tow as she always did. She doubted her empty stomach was helping much with her frazzled mind, so the sooner she could find something to eat, the better. Again, she found herself relatively alone in Ponyville’s streets, though at the very least the few ponies she did see reassured her that there wasn’t another monster situation going on. It was simply a bit early to be out and about. The soft moonlight was a comfort, at the least, filling her with a sense of safety and familiarity that she couldn’t quite explain. Evening headed first towards the area where the cinnamon nut stand was usually set up, though she was beginning to get the feeling that the whole outing was an exercise in pointlessness. The lack of any ponies around meant that the odds of the shopkeepers having stores open was rather low. Nevertheless, she trotted towards the street corner like a pony on a mission, stopping only when she reached the place and was forced to admit with a sigh that the trip had indeed been a bust. There was nopony there. The gnawing in her stomach was uncomfortable enough that Evening Sparkle couldn’t simply give up hope. Perhaps there would be a few stores open already, if she were lucky. She was not. Only one store appeared to have any lights on this early—a sweets shop that Evening really didn’t think sounded like a healthy breakfast. Still, she was practically starving, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Sighing heavily, she pushed her way into the shop and glanced around. The bright and lively decor—which was predominantly a nauseating shade of pink—did not exactly help her mood, much as it might have been intended to lift ponies’ spirits. Her eyes fell upon the counter, and Evening Sparkle nearly did a double take when she took in the pony there, a dull gray earth pony with a spiritless expression who looked just about as out of place among the vibrant pinks and blues as a Diamond Dog in Abyssinia. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner,” said the pony in a completely flat voice, face unchanging as she stared at Evening. The pegasus could not help but feel a bit unnerved. “Um. Yes. Hello,” she said, her gaze drifting down to the pony’s chest, upon which a sticky note poorly masquerading as a name tag had been placed. “Maud,” it read in rather unprofessional-looking bubbly hoofwriting, complete with a heart and a smiley face for punctuation. The writing appeared to be in blue crayon. “What can I get you?” asked ‘Maud♥😊’, though ‘intoned’ would have been more accurate. The characteristic rise in pitch that came with a question was completely absent—the pony’s voice was as toneless as it had been before. Right. Food. That was why she was here. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, Evening Sparkle let her eyes wander over the display cases, frowning at the number of cupcakes and cakes that filled them. Wasn’t there anything with less than a day’s worth of frosting on it? Finally, she noticed a basket of blueberry muffins on the far right, and figured there was likely no better option. She lifted her head to meet Maud’s gaze again—and was more than a little perplexed to come face to face with that same apathetic look that she had been sporting since Evening Sparkle had entered the store. “Do you work here?” Evening blurted out before she could stop herself, wondering if perhaps it was the environment that seemed to be boring the earth pony so much. “No,” Maud replied simply. There was a beat of silence. “Okay, well,” Evening Sparkle said at last, deciding it didn’t matter whether Maud was a regular employee or not. Curious as she might have been, she was first and foremost starving. “I’d like a muffin, please.” She gestured with one hoof at the blueberry muffins she’d just been looking at. “Okay,” said Maud. “That’s two bits.” The two traded bits for food, and after the exchange was done, Evening Sparkle headed for the door with the muffin bag held in her muzzle. Her mouth watered at the scent of it, close to her nose as it was, but she reminded herself she’d be eating soon enough. As she pushed through the doorway, she could barely hear Maud’s dispassionate voice over the sound of the door—”Thanks for coming in.” Except Evening Sparkle also thought that she heard the pony say something else at the end of the statement—something that had sounded like Sparkle. Eyes wide, she dropped the bag in the doorway and rushed back to the counter. “What did you say?” she gasped. “Thanks for coming in,” Maud repeated, expression unchanging. “...Right,” Evening said, feeling like a stone had lodged itself in her chest. “Thank you.” Sighing, she turned to leave once more, picking her bag back up (thankfully the muffin had not fallen out) and not allowing herself a glance backwards. This… Whatever this was, it was getting to her. She was hearing things now, and suddenly Evening’s certainty of her name wavered. What if she was just imagining how right the name had felt? She had spent a disproportionate amount of time these past few weeks off by herself writing or reading, and often cooped up in that tiny wagon; maybe she was experiencing some kind of pseudo-cabin fever? Frowning, she made her way over to a vacant bench and sat down to eat her muffin. To her disappointment, somehow the confection did not taste quite as delicious as it had smelled—though that may have been in part because it was a bit smushed (courtesy of her having dropped it.) The taste, sweet and slightly tart those it was, was mellower than she had expected, just slightly off somehow, and on top of that she found her stomach still complaining by the end. Glaring down at her grumbling belly, she told it (not aloud, of course) to quiet down, frustrated at its illogical actions. Maybe she should have bought two muffins. Hmm. She should probably wait around until the cinnamon nut stand opened. Besides, she could use a distraction from whatever oddities had been plaguing her mind, and writing would do well enough to help with that. Pulling out her notepad, Evening Sparkle sat and wrote for a long while—hours, probably, though she didn’t check—until the streets around her became just loud enough that they threatened to throw off her focus. This was as good a time as any to stop for now, so she stowed the notepad once more and stood up from the bench, preparing to go find the stand again. Since Evening Sparkle had expected the short trip there to pass without issue, however, the world of course had conspired to prove her wrong. She’d barely made it three steps when a pony careened into her, landing her face-down in the dirt (again) and considerably nettled. What was it with ponies and running into her? This pony was a great deal less considerate than the farmpony had been, not seeming nearly as concerned about her wellbeing or offering to help her up as she got back to her hooves with a huff of irritation. “Sorry ‘bout that!” said the colorful-maned pegasus, hovering before her with a somewhat sheepish expression on her face. “Got somewhere to be—you know how it is!” Evening opened her mouth to ask why she’d been flying so low, but did not get the chance to say anything, as before she knew it the other mare was turning away from her. Apparently having stuck around only long enough to make sure Evening was not injured, she took off flying once more, and Evening narrowed her eyes as she watched her go. She swore it was like half the ponies in this town hardly noticed her sometimes. It was ridiculous. Once again, she found herself trying to shake the dirt from her fur after such a run-in with another pony—and this was also one she recognized as being among the princess’s friend group, too. Ugh. She could feel her short mane standing up every which way, ruffled by the fall; Evening was by no stretch of the imagination a vain pony, but she’d been teased by Trixie enough times for her lack of care for her own physical appearance that by now at the very least carrying a hairbrush was something she did. Her coat was largely unsalvageable—she would just have to tag along with Trixie when she went to the spa later that day, as it was time for the showmare’s weekly visit—but her mane was at least something that could be easily brushed. She turned to her saddlebag to retrieve said hairbrush. As she reached into the bag, however, her hoof brushed against something entirely different - the pocketwatch Trixie had given her for her birthday last year. On a whim, Evening retrieved it and flipped it open to check the time—but was disappointed to see that the hands had stopped moving. It must have broken when she’d been knocked down, either today or yesterday. That was unfortunate. Sighing, she placed the watch back in the bag and traded it out for her brush, giving her mane a few run-throughs with the thing before she felt satisfied. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. With that out of the way, Evening Sparkle went quickly to check on the status of the stand, hoping that by this time it might be open. This time, her luck was better. Two purchases of cinnamon nuts later—she was still quite hungry, after all—Evening found herself drifting towards the center of town, where she had noticed quite a few ponies moving towards earlier. There was some sort of meeting going on in town hall. Though she wasn’t exactly a citizen of Ponyville, curiosity got the better of her, and she slipped into the crowd and peered up at the stage, where Mayor Mare was currently addressing the gathered ponies. “...and despite the damages caused by the cragadile, the Princess and her friends disposed of it with ease,” the mayor was saying. With a smile, she stepped aside and gestured proudly to six ponies standing behind her on the stage—one of whom was the pegasus who’d collided with Evening earlier. This was where she’d needed to be? Wow, Evening thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. These sorts of meetings seemed to be held every other day lately. She wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered checking what was being discussed. “The Princess has also generously offered to donate some of her royal funds to cover the damages!” Mayor Mare continued, but Evening was already turning to leave, attention waning. With the frequency of the crises lately, she saw no real point in attending the same meeting day after day, especially when its only purpose seemed to be to praise the princess and her friends. As she turned, however, she caught sight of something in the sky, rapidly approaching the center of town—and it did not look friendly. Eyes widening, Evening gasped as she recognized the creature as a winged slingtail, a hostile animal that lived in the Dragonlands and caused all sorts of havoc with their huge, spiked tails. This struck her as odd—a slingtail, all the way here in Ponyville? How had that happened?—but she had no time to truly question it, as the beast was headed straight for town hall and no one but Evening had seemed to notice it. “Look out!” she shouted, pointing with one hoof up at the monster. Was it just her, or were the monster attacks getting even more frequent? There’d just been one yesterday! Around her, she heard cries and gasps as the rest of the ponies took notice of the slingtail—though none of them likely knew it as such. She would have bet she was one of the most well read ponies here. Glancing back towards the stage to see if the ponies there had sprung to action, Evening noticed the fear on the faces of the crowd as she did, as all around her they huddled closer, shrieking and screaming. Abruptly, something changed in Ponyville—just for a heartbeat, a flicker, but noticeable nonetheless. And then, before Evening could truly consider what she was seeing, the Princess of Friendship’s voice rose above the clamor, and the flicker she had seen was gone—”Don’t worry, everypony! We’ll handle this!” Smiling blithely, the princess flew at the threat, the three friends she had who were incapable of flight carried alongside her with her magic and the other two close behind on their own wings. Evening Sparkle turned and galloped back towards home, not fearing the monster in the sky but instead something else entirely. For the briefest of moments, as panic had seized the crowd in Ponyville, the idyllic little town had suddenly changed. The color had gone out of the world around the gathered ponies, leaving only blacks and grays and long, dark shadows surrounding them. Worst of all, though the flicker had been brief, she was certain she had seen the glint of eyes out in the darkness. This time, Evening did not think she was imagining it. She wished she had been. Author's Note see you next time!
PerceptionEvening did not so much as slow her pace by a single hoofstep as she ran for home, feeling as if a great fire had been lit underneath her hooves, spurring her onwards. Her wings fluttered at her sides, flapping just enough to hurry her along but not lift her off the ground—her first instinct had never been to take the sky when startled, though if she were to be totally honest, her first instinct hadn’t usually been to flee at all. But she wasn’t fleeing now, even if it might have seemed like it. Instead, Evening Sparkle’s mind was racing as she considered which, if any, of her small collection of books might have any information on what she had just witnessed. Something was clearly not right in Ponyville, and she would not simply sit around while it worsened. There was research that could be done, and by the stars she would do it—anything to help explain what was going on. Suddenly the odd dream she’d had seemed less like some imagined bit of silliness and instead some smaller piece of a puzzle she was nowhere close to understanding the size of. As she rounded the corner towards the wagon, Evening caught sight of her roommate standing directly in her path, not appearing to yet notice her. At the speed she was going—aided by her wings—slowing down would be difficult, if not impossible, at such a small distance, but Evening had had quite enough of colliding with other ponies, and so veered quickly to barrel off towards Trixie’s left side. It was at this unfortunate moment that Trixie spotted her and also took action to avoid collision; to her dismay, said action was to jump to the very same side that she had corrected towards. There was no time to further dwell on the situation, because the next thing Evening knew, she had run headlong into the unicorn, sending both of them to the ground. As she fell, Evening noticed Trixie’s own saddlebag had come loose in the tumble, and was dropping closer to her than it was to Trixie. It would have been quite possible—perhaps even easy—for her to have reached out with one hoof and grabbed it as she fell, preventing at least some of any potential damage, but instead of being logical, Evening’s instinctive reaction was anything but. Inexplicably, she tried to reach out for the bag not with her hooves, but with magic she did not have. The split second passed, and both Evening and the bag hit the ground separately, because of course she couldn’t levitate anything—she was a pegasus. Why had that been her instinct? This time, Evening Sparkle did not pick herself up off the ground even as Trixie did, instead simply laying there in the same heap she had landed in, raising her front hooves to cover her eyes. The universe hates me. She could hear the sound of Trixie picking up her fallen saddlebag; judging by the lack of complaint about it, it was unharmed. “Next time, a little warning would be nice,” Trixie snorted. “You don’t have to look so emotionally traumatized, though. Everypony takes a spill every now and then.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Even Trixie. It’s not a big deal.” When Evening said nothing in reply and didn’t move from her spot on the ground, one of Trixie’s hooves prodded her side a bit too firmly to be comfortable. “Hello? Equestria to Evening Star? Anypony in there?” Evening groaned wordlessly in response, letting out a heavy exhale that shifted her bangs a bit. “Oookay,” Trixie said. “I was about to go meet up with Starlight for our spa session, but it seems like you need a stress reliever a lot more than I do. Wanna come with?” Instead of answering the question directly, Evening rolled onto her side (finally moving her hooves from her face) and blinked up at her roommate, raising an eyebrow. “You might have some difficulty making that appointment,” she said. “There’s another monster attack happening right now.” “Wait, seriously?” Trixie leaned forward, peering down at Evening with narrowed eyes. “Maybe I was too harsh on you yesterday for worrying about it. That is pretty ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes, straightening back up and prodding her once more. “Now are you gonna get up or what? We can just go in like ten minutes. I’m sure the princess will have dealt with it by then. Hey, did you get any cinnamon nuts? Or maybe some pretzels?” Evening huffed and finally stood up, reaching back to nose through her saddle bag for the cinnamon nuts she’d bought for her friend. “Here you go,” she said as she held them out to her, although the fact that she was holding them in her mouth made the words sound a little more like gibberish than anything else. Trixie’s eyes lit up. “You know me so well!” she exclaimed, snatching the bag with her magic and wasting no time in opening it and digging in. Evening pushed past her as she ate, entering the wagon and flying up to examine the spines of the books on her bookshelf. While some of them were mystery or adventure novels, she did have her fair share of nonfiction titles as well—the question was whether or not any of them might have helpful information. Though she was a pegasus, magical theory had always interested her enough that she’d done quite a lot of studying of the topic, and not just for her own writing. She was becoming increasingly certain, as more evidence accumulated, that whatever was wrong with Ponyville, it was definitely something magical. Now if only she knew where to begin looking… Aha! Her copy of the all-purpose magic encyclopedia Magical Compendium, an extremely thick book which took up no less than a sixth of the entirety of the shelf, would surely have something in it that could help. Grabbing it with both hooves (as it was a huge enough title that trying to do otherwise would have likely resulted in catastrophe), she left the wagon once more, struggling a little bit to fly straight while lugging around something so heavy. Trixie squinted at her as she set the book on the grass outside with a rather loud thump, exhaling heavily and trying not to pant from the exertion of just carrying it that far. “Planning to do some light reading at the spa?” Trixie asked teasingly between bites. Evening only nodded, not sure if she trusted her voice at that moment. She was hungry enough to break one of the cardinal rules when it came to reading, and so Evening Sparkle paused to grab her own bag of cinnamon nuts before she flipped the book open to its index, though of course she was very careful not to get anything on its pages. She considered for only a moment which section she should start out looking in before coming to a decision—something like that could only be under the illusion school of magic, surely. Frowning, she tracked one hoof down the page to find where “illusion” would be, but froze when she saw that the numbers to the right of the word were completely illegible. As she watched, they shifted constantly, changing even as she looked on, and her breath caught in her throat. No. Whatever spell had been cast on her book, she was not going to let it stop her from getting to the bottom of this. She didn’t need the index, anyway. Narrowing her eyes, she flipped the pages further with her nose, then leaned back to stare—and stare she did. The text within the book itself was much the same as the numbers had been, constantly shifting and changing at a rate too fast for her to read anything at all. A heavy weight settled in Evening’s chest as she flipped through the rest of the book, but every page was the same. With a cry, she slammed it shut and jumped to her hooves, wings flaring out behind her. “Uh,” came Trixie’s voice, and Evening jumped a little as she whipped her head around to stare at her. “What’s got you so worked up? Writer’s block?” Evening Sparkle opened her mouth, then shut it again. She repeated this a couple more times, struggling to find the words, and wondering if she should say anything at all, until finally she pushed the book over to where Trixie sat, flipping it open to a page at random. Trixie blinked down at it for a moment before she lifted her head again. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” Evening rocked backwards as if she’d been struck. “The—the page!” she sputtered, pointing wildly with one hoof and trying to stop her body from trembling as it did. “Evening,” Trixie said slowly, staring at her. She spoke like she was talking to a foal. “It’s blank. Are you okay?” “What?!” She rushed to look down at the book, but the words on the page still shifted. “I… This book is blank for you? What about the cover?” Her mind raced as she fought to keep calm—to figure out just what was happening here. Trixie stared at her a moment longer, seeming skeptical, but finally she flipped the book closed with her magic and glanced down at it. “It’s blank too. This is one of your journals or something, isn’t it? For you to write your stories in?” Even as she spoke the words, she didn’t sound certain of them. “I’m not gonna lie. You’re kinda scaring me.” Abruptly, Evening fell back onto her haunches, one hoof raising of its own accord to rest against her trembling muzzle. “I’m… I…” Her muscles felt tense, her wings still splayed out behind her as if her body was telling her to run. Closing her eyes tightly, she let out a shaky breath and forced herself to focus. If she was going to explain, and if she wanted Trixie to believe her, looking like a panicked foal wouldn’t help matters at all. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she opened her eyes again and lowered both front hooves to rest on the ground. “I haven’t been dreaming lately,” she said, an eerie calm settling over her words. Starting at the beginning was likely the best way to go about things, she figured. “Instead, I’m in an empty void. I’ve tried not to let it bother me—frankly, I’ve just assumed that it’ll pass in time, and that worrying about it would be pointless. But lately—” Trixie lifted one hoof in a gesture for silence, and Evening faltered, blinking at her. “Wait,” Trixie said. “Like… like you’re surrounded by darkness, right? I’ve seen it too.” Her voice was the most serious Evening Sparkle had ever heard it. “That’s… okay, I’ll admit, that’s really creepy. Especially that we’re both dreaming it.” She took a deep breath. “But what does that have to do with your book?” “The book’s not supposed to be blank,” Evening replied. “I can see the cover and the index—but the inside is … beyond odd. It’s changing, like there’s some sort of spell cast on it.” She paused. “Can you check again? Does it still look blank for you?” Perhaps bringing the weirdness of everything to Trixie’s attention would change the book for her—or apparently not, it seemed, because she nodded as she flipped it open. “Yep,” she affirmed. “Totally empty.” “Alright,” Evening sighed, slowly getting to her hooves. She was relieved that Trixie seemed to be taking this well enough. “I think—I think Ponyville has had some sort of strong illusion or memory charm placed on it. I’d need to gather more evidence before I could say for certain, but that’s my prevailing theory.” “Well, horseapples,” Trixie said. “That doesn’t sound good. Uh, actually, that kind of sounds like hero stuff, not stuff we should be dealing with. Shouldn’t we tell the princess?” She glanced around, ears flattening against the top of her head, and swallowed visibly. “Maybe,” replied Evening Sparkle. She looked away, angling her head towards the ground and shuffling her hooves a bit. “But how can we know who to trust?” The heaviness in her chest had moved to her stomach now. “What? She’s the princess! If we can’t trust her, we’re pretty much doomed!” Trixie exclaimed. Evening heard the sound of her taking a couple of steps back, and lifted her gaze from the grass below to rest it on the other mare instead. Trixie’s jaw was slack, and she shook her head in disbelief even as Evening looked on. “I’m just not sure yet, that’s all. Isn’t it better to be careful?” There was a brief but heavy silence. Then— “Fine,” Trixie said, sighing heavily. “But we are telling Starlight. You can agree to that, can’t you?” “I suppose so,” she replied. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure about telling Starlight either, but if it was what it took to get Trixie on the same page as her, she would do what she had to. Giving her coat a shake as if clearing dirt from it (when, in fact, it was her own trepidation she sought to shake off), Evening turned to the road, depositing her unfinished cinnamon nuts back in her saddlebag. “Shall we go?” “Sounds good to me,” Trixie told her, but the cheeriness of her tone sounded forced. “To the spa!” Then, with an overly dramatic flip of her mane, the unicorn took off at a quick trot, head held high and tail swishing behind her. Rolling her eyes, Evening Sparkle hefted up the heavy tome in her hooves and hurried to follow her (or a certain degree of hurried, considering the weight of the book she held), not wanting to fall behind. Whoever or whatever had cast the magic had surely misjudged her if it thought she would give up just because she’d hit a wall. She would get to the bottom of this, no matter what obstacles stood in her way. Author's Note sorry if this chapter is a bit uhh... lackluster? i've been really sick & feverish lately but i still wanted to force something out ;;;;;; not beta read as always, so if you notice errors please let me know!
