Come walk with me now, pony dears,
Pray, don't be shy.
My eyes do shine,
My hooves are warm,
Let me allay your fears.
The Night has come,
It's time to play,
Within our Faerie Glen.
My hooves do twitch,
And fangs so itch,
For Nightmare Night again.
Come now, darling, don't you fear,
Now the time is here.
Let your heart soar
And beg for more,
For now the land is ours.
Throughout this Night, we'll dance, we'll play
Within our Faerie Glen.
And once you join and dance with me,
You'll be ours once again.
Any notion that her fellow villagers didn't get into the spirit of Nightmare Night was dashed the instant Harvest Month rolled around.
Brilliant blue eyes scanned the village below as Sure Stroke laid on her belly, relaxing on the softest, fluffiest cloud she could find. A matching scarf knitted so lovingly by her mother while they still lived in Cloudsdale was wrapped around her neck to protect from the cold, her feathers fluffed and rusled with every breeze kicked up around her.
Sure Stroke always so loved this time of year. When her father and his team of weather pegasi rolled out the cold fronts, it meant it was time to help turn their gorgeous cloud city into a haunting vision, a tribute to the very mare who stalked the dreams of naughty little foals.
So too was it in Respite. Although … with a decidedly different flare that made it even more eery, in her opinion.
Absent were the fake cobwebs that so often hung from windowsills and banisters around her ancestral home. Instead, there was changeling slime, oozing from the roof of every house, sprawling onto the porches below like genuine spiderwebs. Little shimmering crystals glowed of their own power, set within the slime itself to give it a rather haunting quality when the sun set and night settled over the land.
It certainly made those delightful little plastic bats and spiders look like they were crawling over some sort of strange goop. Ectoplasm, if she recalled from those ghost stories about faerie forests and tales of spooky houses. Faerie forests from which the changelings were said to come, depending on which of the legends one read.
Something she was starting to wonder herself, the more time she spent in the village. Some of those old tales of charming changelings with dazzling eyes and strange fanged grins offering deals to trick unwitting ponies into their embrace seemed all the more likely than those of swarms blackening the sky. Not to mention that one utterly ridiculous tale about magic seeds and changelings being born from trees.
Especially hers.
Aspire was that in spades. And Esalen too.
Her thoughts shifted to the twins, her boyfriend and her closest friend in the village respectively. They'd been getting rather fidgety with each passing day, as if their carapaces were positively itching for Nightmare Night to come around. As a matter of fact, the entire Caretaker population seemed to have come down with an odd case of such excitement.
Fanged grins, waggling ears, and chittering laughter followed her and her fellow ponies wherever they went. She could hardly help the shiver which ran to the tips of her feathers each time she caught them eying her up. How they made sure to flash a green glow her way and bare their fangs, and asked with far too much innocence to be real if she was looking forward to Nightmare Night.
They were. Oh, she knew it too well. Sure Stroke didn't need Aspire to pull out a history book to tell her the changelings, a race of tricksters and shapeshifters, would so delight in a full night dedicated to it.
But she'd be a liar if she didn't admit that the prospect made her feel … conflicted. On one hoof, there was anticipation. Their games, while strange and geared toward making their pony friends squirm, could be fun once one gave them a chance. But on the other …
Well.
The memory of Aspire's little trick in the forest was still quite fresh in her mind.
A fresh breath of cool air ghosted over the back of her neck. Sure Stroke shivered and cast a glance over her shoulder, watching as the sun sank below the western horizon. The sound of pegasus wings beating through the air made her flick an ear, she turned to aim a smile at Vector as he glided over and landed on one of the clouds off to her left.
"Heya, Doodle," he greeted with a jaunty wave. Vector quicked a brow and tilted his head, his eyes lingering on an empty patch of cloud before her. "No sketchpad? I'm shocked."
With a roll of her eyes, Sure Stroke shifted so she could face him fully. "Just because I love to sketch doesn't mean I don't just like to come up and enjoy the scenery, Zippy," she quipped in return. "Or is there a new rule I'm missing about nicknames having to dictate my free time?"
"Nah, just pulling your feathers." He shrugged his wings, then jerked his head toward the village. "Everyone's set up for the Nightmare Night fun. You're gonna miss it if you stick around up here too long."
Sure Stroke arched a brow. "We're starting things off at sundown?"
Vector gave a solemn nod. "The most important time of Nightmare Night. The land is dark, the air is cool, and the changelings come out to play."
A quick retort that the changelings, especially in Respite, were always out, about, and playing had to be caught before it slipped free. Sure Stroke knew better than to scoff at their traditions.
One never knew who might let slip that a pony had snarked about the changelings. Doubly so if Vector had any outstanding deals with their mutual friends.
And given how much help he needed in school over the years, she was willing to bet that Vector would be delighted to trade the chance for Aspire to tease her in exchange for balancing the scales.
With a feigned sigh, she rose as if expending some great effort to appease him, the effect ruined by an amused smile. "No hints on what they have planned?"
"Where's the fun in—ugh!" Vector winced, his face screwed up as if he'd been hit between the eyes by a needle.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine. Just a headach. Nothing to worry about, Doodle."
"Fair enough then. Let's head down so you all can show me how Nightmare Night is done in Respite."
The grin he flashed her should've been the first hint that something was amiss. "Doodle, it's to die for!"
After a short flight over the tiny village turned spooky moseleum, Sure Stroke noticed something rather peculiar—nothing.
There were no ponies, changelings, nymphs, or foals milling about, no party games, or shrieks of joy or fright as prankster unleased their machinations upon the unwitting victim. There wasn't even the usual spread set up on the long tables.
Nothing. By Cirrus, she didn't even see mane or tail of Cool Breeze, or hear the angry curses of his wife following as she hunted him down for whatever trick he dared pull on the Queen of the Caretakers.
Respite, for all intents and purposes, was empty.
"Where in Equestria did everyone go?" she voiced her thoughts aloud.
On her left, Vector spoke up, "They're probably getting last minute stuff set up for games and such."
"At this hour? Kind of last minute don't you think?"
"It's cold and getting colder, Doodle." He banked over to gently dig an elbow into her shoulder. "You can't expect everyone to be as hardy against it as we pegasi, y'know."
A fair point. But that didn't quite explain the complete absence of anyone scurrying through the streets to make those last few preparations.
The pair of pegasi touched down on the dirt pathway leading up to Creamy, Frosty, and Chocolate Almond's ice cream parlor. Sure Stroke tilted her head and squinted as she tried to peer into the darkened dining area for any sign of movement. Just a hint of someone around would do wonders to chase away the cold claw gripping her chest.
No such sign greeted her.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Vector?" she said, slowly turning to fix him with a pointed look. "This is a little—" Her voice trailed off as she noticed the pained expression flashing across his face. Her wings flared out, Sure Stroke hurried to his side and laid a gentle hoof upon his shoulder. "Vector? What's wrong?"
Her fellow pegasis shook his head. "I'm … I'm f—fine," he mumbled, his voice strained. After a moment, he shook himself again, then raised his head to give her a tight smile. "Don't worry about it. It's probably just some seasonal cold."
"Are you sure? You look …" Sure Stroke drew back to survey him, as if seeing him for the first time, a frown creased her muzzle. "Pale. And your eyes have terrible bags around them."
Vector let out a ragged breath. "I'm just …" He made to take a step forward, then stumbled, nearly dragging her down with him. Only her quick thinking saved him from taking a snout-full of dirt.
Sure Stroke pulled him to his hooves. Her ears pinned flat against her scalp. "Cirrus! Vector, this doesn't seem like some normal cold! You're …" She blinked. She could feel his hooves, his knees trembling in her grasp as if he'd just come out of a blizzard. Or, more likely, as if he were suffering a terrible fever.
Her jaw set. The young artist stepped around him, wrapping her wing around his shoulders, and held him tight, guiding him bodily down the path toward Nimble and Toola's house. "Come on. Let's go find Ladybug. She'll have something you can take."
"N-No!" He jerked away, his eyes wide with fright. "Not—unnnngh!—N-Not Nimble's house!"
She stopped, turning to level him with a quizzical stare. Her ears twitched. "Why not Nimble's house? You need medicine, Vector."
He shook his head again. His ears laid flat against his scalp. "She … she and her parents have been just … I just need …" Vector trailed off into an unintelligible mumble. With a groan, he brought a hoof to his head and turned away, stumbling out from under her wing.
His head hung low, his mane fell down to cover his eyes as he let out another pained groan. Even his wings seemed to droop, like he didn't have the energy to fold them.
Sure Stroke bit her lip. Whatever was bothering his friend, whatever had him so frightened of Nimble, she had to get to the bottom of it. He looked—by Cirrus, he was sick!
Slowly, she trotted over to his side and laid her hoof upon his back. "Who do you want to go see then?" she asked softly. "What do you need, Vector?"
For a moment, he didn't respond. His shoulders began to shake, a low sound rumbled forth from his chest.
Her ears twitched. Sure Stroke furrowed her brows and swiveled them about to catch the sound of … laughter?
Vector turned to face her, his face split into a wicked grin, his eyes flashing with hunger. "I need," he purred, slowly turning himself and flaring his wings out in challenge, ready to pounce. "We need you, foolish little pony!"
Yelping, Sure Stroke stumbled back just in time to avoid a leaping tackle. She turned and dashed away, her heart racing as she looked back over her shoulder to see her friend cackling madly and giving chase. That manic grin splitting his muzzle and eyes taking on a familiar green glow.
Changeling magic.
Her eyes went wide. A whimper built in her chest. With a panicked cry, she unfurled her wings, putting on an extra burst of speed as she prepared to fly back to her parents' house and lock herself inside.
Only to collide headfirst with something very solid and quite warm.
Hooves wrapped around her shoulders like a vice. A familiar giggle tickled her ears as she came nose to nose with another friend.
"It's rude to run away from your friends, Doodle!" Toola Roola crooned, her eyes glowing a sickly green just like Vector's. "All ours are waiting, just eager to take a big bite out of their favorite little artist."
Sure Stroke felt Vector's breath ghost over her ear. "You'll learn to love it," he growled. "Just like we did."
Her eyes shot wide. Sure Stroke let out a squeak of fright and flapped her wings, batting Vector across the face, enough to force him to stagger back clutching his nose.
Toola's grip tightened. "Nuh-uh, Doodle! NOne of your—eek!"
Enchanted, charmed, whatever she was or not, Toola Roola was still Toola Roola. A quick jab to her ever-ticklish sides was more than enough to send her into peals of laughter and writhing on the ground, the perfect chance for Sure Stroke to roll off her and scoot across the ground until she could jump to her hooves. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, her eyes flitted between her two friends as they turned their attention upon her once more.
She took several steps back, her wings unfurled and ready to fly. The pair stalked toward her, one step at a time. Their wicked smiles never faltered.
A low, mocking chuckle echoed through the dimly lit town. Sure Stroke scampered away from the parlor, her eyes searching for the source through the shadows and glowing slime.
A pair of pink eyes, glowing a sickly green, peered back at her, slowly drawing near. Esalen stepped out of the shadows and into the light of one of the crystals, fixing Sure Stroke with a vulpine grin. "Well, well, well," she purred. "It seems like our Doodle isn't going to be a good filly and come quietly, is she?"
"Sorry, Mistress Esalen," Vector intoned.
Toola took another step forward. Her eyes seemed to widen with manic glee. "We'll have her seeing things properly soon enough."
"Oh, I'm sure you will," Nimble's voice sounded through the dark. The dancing nymph poked her head out from beneath the porch ceiling, where she hung upside down. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "We can't have this one getting away before we have a bite."
Sure Stroke scampered back from them, her eyes darting from nymph to foal, her heart hammered in her ears.
Then her rump came in contact with smooth, warm carapace. Her ears stood ramrod straight as cool breath teased the tips.
"Aspire's gonna be miffed that he didn't get first taste," Zephyr whispered, idly teasing her coat with the tip of one of his fangs. "But after all the time hearing you and him boasting about how delectable she is, Essy, I don't know if I could wait another second."
A ragged scream tore from the back of her throat. Sure Stroke didn't even think, she simply acted, bucking him full in the chest and galloping off into the darkness in a blind panic. The sounds of angry hissing, mocking chittering, and hooves pounding against the ground as they gave chase filled her ears.
The chase was on. Her changeling friends, and enchanted foals, her hunters, and herself the prey.
She cut through the edge of the forest, her hooves thundering against the dirt path did little to dull the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Nor that of her friends chasing after her.
Friends?
Hunters. Friends didn't hunt friends. Not like this.
Not with Vector and Toola Roola under their spell.
A shiver ran down her spine. Sure Stroke ducked under a branch and skirted around the truck of a great oak tree, darting low as Nimble came shooting over her head, close enough that she could feel the nymph's chitinous hooves reaching out for her.
Nimble hissed a curse. "You're running out of room, Sure Stroke! Give it up now, and we'll make it quick!"
Another startled squeaked escaped her lips. Of that, she had her doubts. IF there was one thing she learned, one thing that would always remain constant, it was how changelings loved to play their games.
Especially when it came to food.
Up ahead, she saw her haven. The Wood brothers' shed. If she could slip in quick enough, if she could put enough distance between them without losing them, maybe she could trick them into thinking she'd cut through their yard and run to Queen Euphoria.
She stole a glance over her shoulder, something two parts fear, one relief. They were maybe three lengths behind her. Close enough to be a worry, but not so far that they might stop and think if she turned a sharp corner and disappeared.
After all, it was hardly a secret that she could move when she felt motivated. The little pudge in her belly aside.
With every second, she drew nearer to the shed, she could hear them closing the distance though. Quick or not, her friends were far more active. Running, chasing, playing in the forest, and so much more over the years gave them all they needed to keep pace.
Perfect.
She feinted left, then shot around the edge of the shed, leaning into her turn as much as she could without letting her hooves go sliding out from under her, and prayed the door hadn't been locked.
As if fortune itself had interceded, it was cracked just enough for a young filly her size to slip inside and duck into a hiding spot without bother. An invitation Sure Stroke was quite happy to take.
The young artist hurled herself inside, then quickly pressed herself against the wall, pricking her ears up to listen out for her pursuers as they went galloping by at full speed. Their mocking calls and laughter filled her ears, but not once did they give any indication they'd caught onto her trick.
She stayed that way a few moments longer, barely daring to breathe lest they be lurking nearby. Finally, as the silence of night held itself, save for the sounds of their hooves fading into the distance, Sure Stroke let out a heavy sigh and slumped to the floor with a nervous, breathy laugh.
"The mighty hunters and tricksters," she muttered to no one in particular. "Outwitted by a pudgy little filly. They're never gonna hear the end of it when class—"
Class. Would there even be class if they were running around charming foals? Would Queen Euphoria just kick them straight out of the village?
By Celestia, what had come over them? Sure, Vector had mentioned the changelings so loving Nightmare Night, but this was taking it all much too far!
Her mind raced. They wouldn't risk it. Not unless there was something else driving them. It had to be something she was missing!
What sort of fey mood had stricken her friends to drive them to act so strange? Some sort of lapse, perhaps? Did changeling nymphs suffer some sort of lapse back to the days before Queen Morrigan surrendered the Black Crown to Princess Amortia when Nightmare Night came around?
Speculation. All she had was speculation. What Sure Stroke needed was a concrete answer.
She rose on shaking hooves and let out a shuddering breath. Queen Euphoria would have the answers. She always did.
By Celestia, she hoped Queen Euphoria could make things right.
Sure Stroke stole a quick peek through the crack to be sure they weren't still lingering about.
There was no sign of them. No grinning nymphs, glowing eyes, or charmed foals. A small mercy at this point.
She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, and steeled herself to sneak her way through the village to the Queen's house. She'd have to be quick and silent, enough to get around some of the best hunters to ever walk the land.
Easier said than done. Sure Stroke stayed low to the ground, her wings flared out and ready to take flight. Her ears swiveled this way and that, listening for the slightest rustle of leaves or crack of branches.
None such came. None save for the sound of someone spitting and the sudden squelch as warm, fresh changeling slime splattered across her back.
Shrieking, Sure Stroke bucked and tried to unfurl her wings and flap, desperate to knock it off. But with her every effort, the gooey, gelatinous substance stretched with her and pulled her wings back against her side with a rubbery purr. Her breath caught in her throat, she tried to brush it off, but only managed to get the edge of her hoof stuck in it a moment before she jerked it back out.
A chitter filled the air, tickling her ears with its mirth.
Then her eyes tracked up to the roof of the shed. There, standing in the moonlight, his messy mane and sleek carapace sillhouetted in the glimmering light, and his face illuminated by the glow of a nearby crystal, was a smirking nymph.
Her smirking nymph.
Aspire let a deep purr roll in the back of his throat. His wings buzzed as he lazily lifted himself off the roof and floated down to the ground. "If you want a Doodle caught right," he said, "it pays to do it yourself. I guess that's the last time I trust Essy to come fetch you for me, sweetheart."
Sure Stroke's ears drooped. She stepped back, her eyes darting about for any avenue of escape. But with each place she thought to try, she found her hopes dashed.
They were all there, waiting with wicked grins and glowing eyes. Dark chuckles and merry chitters echoed all around her.
They hadn't fallen for her trick at all.
She'd been played.
"A—Aspire, please," she stammered, taking another step back from him.
"Oh, don't you worry, Doodle. I'll keep you nice and safe and warm once we're all done." A slow, predatory grin split his face. He began to prowl toward her, flanked by the rest of their friends. Esalen hastened her steps to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, licking her lips even as he spoke, "Just relax. You remember just how much you loved my charm last time. It'll all feel better once you're under again."
"Are you sure I can't take care of her?" Esalen crooned. "She'd look cute painting in my room. I could take her from city to city and have a full gallery to myself."
"Hmmm, tempting. We'll talk after she's ours, but for now …"
Sure Stroke whimpered. Instinctively, she tried to unfurl her wings again, but found the slime's grip even stronger than before.
It was hardening. She was doomed.
And they knew it.
"Come with walk with me now, pony dear," Aspire chanted. "Pray, don't be shy."
Esalen joined in a mocking song, "My eyes do shine, my hooves are warm, let me allay your fears."
With wicked, snickering chitters, Nimble and Zephyr added together, "The Night has come, it's time to play within our Faerie Glen. My hooves do twitch and fangs so itch for Nightmare Night again."
Her backside bumped against cold wood. Sure Stroke felt her heart leap into her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she found herself pressed against the Wood brothers' shop. Well and truly trapped.
When she turned to face them again, Aspire was nose to nose with her. He hissed and quickly pushed her back, pinning her shoulders to the wall. Slowly, he leaned in to press their snouts together and gave a mocking nuzzle, another purr rolled deep within his chest.
Together, the nymphs and foals chanted, "Come now, darling, don't you fear, now the time is here. Let your heart soar and beg for more, for now the land is ours. Throughout this Night, we'll dance, we'll play within our Faerie Glen. And once you join and dance with me …"
Aspire's eyes stopped glowing. He waggled his ears and cupped her cheeks, planting a deep kiss upon her lips.
Sure Stroke squeaked into his mouth, allowing him the perfect chance to snake his serpentine tongue inside and tease hers with the twin forked tips.
He broke the kiss after several seconds, licking his lips greedily to savor her taste. Then he leaned up to whisper in her ear, "You'll be ours once again." With a cheeky grin, he planted another kiss on her lips and said, "Happy Nightmare Night, Doodle."
