A Dance With The Devil

by SuptMrSeaUnicorn

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Thriller, Original Character, Suicide / Self Harm, Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna
Length: 39973

A chance the Devil gave to him: to dance with her, much like others of many from the past, their stage a fabric of reality.

Countless are in awe of death, a clue of it being a good deal of macabre depictions and romanticisations. All are under her watchful eye from her lofty place amongst the clouds, mane flowing red at night, realising not the epiphany that she walketh, she danceth, she flyeth. And yet Lightning Glare does believe in a different way—believe that she is more than a permanent state, a thing dreaded by life itself, for he had seen her with the eyes of his own, and most others who had could not tell their tale; it is impossible, undoable for them to come back. With the Devil, nothing is done without any reason, and presently so he goes on forth, to venture places he ought never be in, to try to make a sense in this nightmare, to step on a stage for a dance.

This is a prequel story to a project which is still under progress.

Published 2018-06-24 18:10:12 UTC
Last updated 2018-08-20 14:57:08 UTC

Prologue

Prologue

Shrapnels of broken wood and splinters scattered the floor of oak, ready to bite into anypony’s skin dare they near. Across his foreleg were crimson trails, blood streaming from many cuts. He hastily plucked them one by one, flinching and seething every time he did. It hurt when he’d punch it, but he needed the relief, an escape, in a way, a short lived one. Before long, they were on the floor to be with the others. He tried to move, but it was painful, a stagger his walk was.

How long had he been in this state of restlessness? Twenty-two hours past with a sign of rest none, with a mane of a madmare, a day and night whole of muttering to himself, he spent alone in his dank room, the only soul in here. Notwithstanding the fatigue overwhelming the stallion, though, he stayed awake in paranoia, his body a disgrace to what it had been once, one of a stately man, tall and proud and wise. He scratched his head with the back of his hoof.

The thought haunted him: it was everywhere, zoning in on him but never brave enough for a touch, staring at him from all directions. In the ceiling, walls, floor, and windows they watched and witnessed as the stallion slipped into insanity, and he paced around the room madly, trying to conquer them straight between the eyes for several seconds long to no avail.

“T—Thou know what will happen,” he said to himself, rolling them off the tip of his tongue. The stallion shook his head. “Y—you are . . . insane . . .” He slammed himself against the wall. “You’re insane!”

He reached his desk, grabbing a paper and quill, writing as fast as he could. He took out an envelope and cramped the thing in there, salivating and using it as a seal. The stallion snaked it through a gap under his door, and once it had been thought of and done, he jumped up and laughed. He laughed a laugh hysterical. It was a laugh of a pony who had seen everything.

“I am . . . free,” he declared. The stallion chuckled, smiling to himself smally with a trace of peace in it, his eyes glittering under the moonlight. For the first time in what felt like a hundred years, he felt free, and he shall be soon; to wait was the only thing he needed to do.

In a short while . . . three knocks he heard. That was all that it took, and he calmly grinned at the door. “It is open.”

Her eyes were red. So incredibly red with a peaceful insanity. He almost lost himself to her gaze; there was something so odd about it, that expression, those lips, the mien. The stallion was scared not, no. He stared at her, right at her, the blood that drenched on her coat. She said not a word. She did not move. She stared back.

“Are you here to take me away?” he asked of her. Not a reply, a stare so piercing only. “I thought so. You have been waiting outside my door; you think I know not of it?” He gave this moment a silence when she did not answer. “Have you ever thought of what happened to them?” he inquired with a frown. “What you did to them? What you have done?” Then came the air’s song, which was hollow of a meaning. “It was something wrong, I need to remind you. What you did was wrong.

“Ofttimes we tend to do the wrong things for the right reason. Is that it? Were you doing this all to protect yourself? To protect the land of Equestria and everywhere else beyond what could be known?” She tilted her head curiously.

“Are you going to kill me because of what I know about you? No need to answer that. You do. You are going to kill me so nopony could ever find out what you did, of who you are.” The air grew a tad louder in the darkness of night, chanting a deep bellow, rising up in pitch and fading away slowly. She raised her chin.

“I am going to kill thee, yes,” she maintained, a voice of a royal and echoey, yet with the slightest tinge of youth. “But I ought to kill thee with dignity. How wouldst thou wish to die?”

He had been thinking about it these past hours. “I want to die with you hearing my last words, then strangle me until I take my last breath.

“I have always wanted to fly when I was a foal, and I always watched the pegasi dance through the air like a ballerina. That is the thing with me—I cannot be happy with what I have. And so as I aged I accepted it, the fact that I cannot do what I always wanted to do. I know I cannot fly, but I can do other things, and presently I moved on. Though before I did, I was disheartened to achieve my dreams, sad too. But there was nothing I could do. I knew that. I shrugged it off as a childish wish that could never be true. You look around you and you will see ponies that have dreams that have been crushed. And that is when I realised that this world was made not for those who get everything they want. Everypony wants something, and when they get it, they always want something else: that is what happens if they do. Lust could never be satisfied, I say, but I want your sweet embrace. Your cold embrace. I want you to suck the life from me, from this twisted mess we call a world. The horizon neareth me, you know, so you might as well do it. It is something I cannot regret, and I will not want anything else.”

And so she launched herself forward in the speed of light, crunching her hooves against his neck, pinning him against the wall. He felt the wall break behind him, along with his bones. Her coat was as cold as ice, crawling deep to his insides, and with his larynx crushed and working no more, he managed a smile weak and light.

First

Thank you to:

Zaknel
DarkLordYuri
DuskWriter
Opium4TmassS
The Crystal King
Caspar (RevenantReject)
Yorkie Pie
SSJ2PinkiePie
Jamiemichelle
InkSplat

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.”

― Rumi

First

The day was another day just, same as the ones before, and same as the ones that will soon come.

Lightning Glare gazed down at his hooves, studying how the left one would place itself on the earth and the other doing the same. It was rather mundane for him to think about how he walked, albeit he merely wanted to distract himself. He felt several drops of liquid stick and fall off his silver-grey coat. The pegasus quickened his pace. Steadily came the downpour, a drastic increase of strength noticeable.

Soaked and utterly drenched after skipping on the puddles, he liked it not a tad, and there was an uneasy move on his lips. “Darn it,” to himself did he mutter, “I should’ve bought the flowers earlier.” The pegasus set down the soaked bundle of golden marigolds and proceeded to rattle his entire body like a wet dog. To rid the water, he fluttered his feathers, and the stallion thereafter plucked up the drenched bunch.

The wind tugged on the gates back and forth, causing it to creak on the rusting hinges of old. It started to sing a cradlesong of some sort, the soft yet disarranged melodies echoing from the forests of the south. The whispery voice sprawled out into Ponyville in the north, dashing through Canterlot and into the unknown.

The gate flung open as a result of a light shove of a foreleg.

Transformed was air’s pitch to one of a deeper tone, resonating and growling. Lightning felt s deep echo in his spine. A small grimace crossed his face. I—I’m not liking this at all . . . he meekly told himself. It’s like these gravestones just turned to me. Staring at me. He shuddered at the thought. A bitter welcome this cemetery soberly gave him, a gift he would rather decline but accepted anyway. Alright, Lightning. You can do this. You have to do this. For Auriga.

The stallion followed his path own, the air blanketing the entire cemetery coldened. Wisps of scattered fog started to form. Lightning Glare was part of the Ponyville’s Weather Patrol, and he and the others reserved today for light rains and low temperature. It was a poor decision, but a necessary one.

He halted at the sight of a headstone. Lightning approached it, eyes locking on the name of it. Gentle like a butterfly, he surrendered his flowers to the gravestone and the one who lies below. Weak were the showers now since he entered.

He found himself seated on the grass, right in front of the neatly smoothed rock. Stare at it he only ever managed to do, and in the act he committed himself a good deal. In the recesses of his mind, a voice was telling him to stay here for longer. Time felt like it existed not in this yard of the dead. How long had he been here for, exactly? Several minutes? Or possibly a few hours? Either way, a care he won’t give, a care he can’t give. This was too much.

His eyes departed from it, focusing on the ever-so-beautiful crescent amongst its copious neighbours. The sky was blocked by clouds, the moonlight turning them into smoke—white smoke. The pegasus watched as more clouds flocked over to the white orb, the outline still distinguishable under all of the mass.

Those were times he needs remember, he thought of it that way. They were things that he didn’t quite understand. But he didn’t really care of that. They just happened, and how was also another mystery. Maybe someday he’ll get it. It may not be today, but it’ll be someday, he hoped.

But he knew he can’t stay here forever. He needed to go. The sooner, the better.

Lightning Glare took one last glance, getting back up. Phantom-silent was the world; even the rain stopped its drizzle. He couldn’t help but kneel.

“Peace be with you, Auriga.” he whispered. “Peace be with you.”

The pegasus quietly maneuvered through the dead-quiet headstones. Prior to the opportunity, he had to move through the threshold, though, something made him confused, his heart stop, for him to care not of the rest of the world.

The shadow. It moved around him. It was one of great agility, piercing the air. Lightning Glare stood frozen in place. Gears in his mind tore and squeezed and broke each other apart when it so tried to understand. W—Who i—is th—that? He dared not look behind him.

One part of his consciousness was telling him to run, to flee, to leave this place, but alas, the shadow seemed not like the idea, for it threatened to near him whenever he lifted his hoof to make a step. He clenched his pearly whites, briefly interchanging his attention between the gates and the tombs of the dead. Multiple times it moved, round and round him again.

Celestia, Celestia, Celestia! What do I do?! What do I do?! Lightning Glare whimpered as the ghastly shade zig-zagged between the gravestones. He bent down low by one, realising his breath was gaining speed and weight by the second passing. Closing his eyes, he gulped.

Lightning Glare bolted to where he assumed the shadow was. A whistle of the wind was the only sound heard. That air wheezed and growled at the time same, circling and playing and going through his mane and coat. The pegasus reluctantly called, “W—who goes there?”

Lightning Glare knew he was alone a while ago. He could’ve sworn he was. The stallion peeked his head above the tombstones, scanning the area. The shadow wasn’t there, thankfully. If anywhere, really. Good, he thought, nothing’s there. It’s just your head that’s playing you.

The blurry wraith moved right in front of him.

Lightning felt his heartbeat rise, donning eyes the size of dinner plates. Quick and deceptive, it continued to zip around, even faster. In the corner of his eye, he saw it again. He turned around to find that it was not there. Lightning heard his own startled breaths as it went past him. He was sweating up a storm, feeling soaked once again.

The pegasus could hear a faint beg. “P—please! I—I know who you are and why you have to take me away, but you don’t have to do it like this . . . Just . . . just leave me alone!” Lightning lost his consciousness a tad, it felt.

It was Auriga’s voice that begged the unknown listener.

Auriga?! B—but I just visited your grave, didn’t I?!” Again did the shadow keep moving around him from a fair distance. It was to his left, then all of the sudden to his right, and it was back there in front of him. Tracking it was far from possible; it seemed to come from everywhere.

Light tried to control his breathing, an exercise he remembered. Okay, okay, calm down, now. Calm down. It’ll all be over and I can leave. That voice isn’t Auriga’s, Lightning. It may be another pony’s, right? It has to be. Yes, it has to be. His heartbeat kept rising to meet with the clouds, no matter how hard he resisted.

Lightning peeped above. He started moving his head left to right to see.

The phantom was in the distance. Lightning saw the fear contort in the shadow’s face and lips, and he tenaciously gripped the grass so much that they came right off, slamming his body back to the slab of stone. Many breaths came in and out as he frantically flailed his legs on the dirt, crying and whimpering and screaming. A ghost being afraid of something sent visceral migraines and assumptions through the pegasus’ skull.

The ghost shot his head around the scene, and before Lightning knew it, he witnessed as Auriga locked onto him. Lightning gasped. He shoved a hoof on his lips as he realised what just happened. He knew he can’t make Auriga unsee him.

The pegasus hid. He trembled, praying with all of his might to anypony he knew not that Auriga would merely dismiss the sight of him and move on. Out of the nothingness spurted two pairs of hooves, pinning the pegasus against the tombstone.

“Lightning! Oh thank the goddess above!” The ghost looked down to see that the poor stallion was merely stuttering what were no doubt confused begs for mercy, a million more coursing inside his skull. “There’s no time! Listen to me! We have to leave before she comes.” The phantom shot upwards suddenly, scanning the graveyard. “Oh fuck! She’s here! Let’s go, dammit!”

Lightning Glare was pulled up and dragged to flee with the vulgar ghost of a friend, his mind empty. He didn’t know what to think anymore. The pegasus could only breathe as the ghost guided their escape out the gates to the lands beyond.

How they arrived so fast remains a mystery to the pegasus, albeit he and Auriga stood in front of his home. It was a house of wood and stone, pink and red accents littered around here and there.

Auriga’s coat was that of an almost white, palish green, a light red mane, with eyes of sapphire, and a stature height impressive, not to mention the hoofball cutie mark plastered on his flank. “What are you lookin’ at? Get in before she sees us.” The ghost stared at him, commenting. Auriga needn’t repeat himself. The startled pegasus gone for the door.

Lightning Glare watched in hushed silence as Auriga slammed the door shut, quickly locking every lock on its edge. He pulled and pushed it to ensure the legitimacy and strength of the locks. He kicked it hard. Once satisfied with the sight of a heavily locked threshold, Auriga twisted his head to the wholly clueless pegasus, staring at him with the deepest intent. Softly he spoke, “Hey, you alright, Light?” His change of mood startled him.

“Y—yeah. I’m okay now,” replied the pegasus. A light hum was Auriga’s reply. Light could easily see through the expression Auriga spread on his face. Those eye bags below his pair gave the impression that he had been chased for Celestia knows how long. A stallion whole different hid behind that mask.

“Auriga, you don’t look well. Perhaps you can tell me what is it that concerns you?” He’s a freaking ghost, for crying out loud! Of course he’s lost his mind!

The ghost tsked. “Look at you. You have eye bags larger and darker than mine and you haven’t fixed your mane in years. Oh, and your house is still fucking pink,” he said, cheekily giving that stupid smile of his. It became a neutral line so quickly, a grunt leaving it.

His mane was indeed a great mess, he admitted, platinum white edges reaching out to all directions and the rest a black and was as frantic. His tail was of same. Light chuckled humorlessly, his face frowning as he looked himself bottom to top.

“Oh, stop looking at yourself. Light, I’m really sorry, okay? It’s just that I don’t have a lot of time to take in all of this and make you so uncomfortable.” The ghost started to pace to and fro. “First, I’m dead. Second, I’m a damn ghost. Third, somepony is after me and I know I can’t hide forever. What’s next? I’ll die a second time? Can this get any worse than it already is? Can’t a stallion just go to bed without life having to fucking cuck my ass?!”

Light cringed as the ghost went on, incomprehensible remarks flying out of his mouth and his tone darkening. “Auriga, Auriga. Calm yourself, please! I know you're overwhelmed by all of this, so you’ll have to take it easy and think things through.” Light motioned to the sofa. “Come, take a seat. You and I can have a talk. Just like old friends?” Not one thing Lightning could point and name at could be more fake and uneasy than the happy expression he forcefully suppressed.

Nothing. The stallion had the face—the body—wholly unmoving, rock hard and stoic. The spectre couldn’t be any quieter.

He unexpectedly smiled, a rueful one and small. Swiftly, he made his way to the sofa. “Just like old friends, I guess.” He patted the empty space beside him for Lightning.

“Thank you.” The pegasus sat down, studying the phantom beside him. “Tell me, who is this ‘somepony’ who’s chasing you?” Light decided to preface the conversation with a query of his own.

Auriga didn’t move a muscle. He chewed on the edge of his lip. “That ‘somepony’ is Death.”

“Say what, again?” Lightning Glare was thrown off guard. What did he just say? The pony he’s running from is Death?

Auriga mindlessly drew circles in the air. “You know . . . Fuck, you don’t, do you?” he interrupted himself. “Hold on, I haven’t told you about her yet.” The ghost blinked. “Let me explain.” Lightning Glare eased his spine on the cushion as the ghost began the preamble of his tale.

“You see, Death is very . . . unexplainable; Unfathomable is the right word. It’s hard for me to explain to you how she ‘functions’ as a being. You getting this?” Lightning Glare nodded in silent agreement. “She’s kinda this angel of the dead, I would say, like the grim reaper in movies, but not really, nah.” Light had no idea how he got this information, but he merely leaned forward, interested. “I do know her one ultimate goal is to reap souls for . . . whatever reason. She’s Death, you get it, that’s why I’m running from her. And that’s about it. That’s all I know about her.”

“Auriga,” Lightning started, dubious, “how do you feel about this?”

The phantom stroked a hooftip on his chin. “She sounds like Death to me, in all honesty. Ran from her ass for, I dunno how long. Hours at least. Didn’t see her, though. It felt like she was teasing or spying on me.”

Light’s confusion only further deepened. How did he even do that? Then again, he is a ghost, so everything in this world is possible at this point. he mused to himself. So this “Angel of Death” is after Auriga . . . “This may sound a bit odd for me to ask, but Auriga, do you know why she hadn't taken you away already?”

The spectre goggled at Light as if he said he forgot how to breathe. Auriga raised two hooves and shrugged. “I dunno. It’s . . . now that I think of it, yeah, that is kind of weird. Only now has she tried to pin me down.”

Lightning did the same gesture, a lopsided smile crossing his face. “We can figure that out later, Auriga.”

The ghost scrutinized the pegasus’ face for a moment; Light let him. Auriga muttered to himself, cheeks moving and judging, saying to himself the words he wanted to say out loud. “The name of Tartarus happened to you after all this time?”

Light merely shrugged. “I . . . nothing, really. I haven’t a clue.”

The ghost put on what has got to be the largest grin Lightning Glare knew possible. It kind of scared him to see that, really, even if Auriga was a friend. “Did you cry because of me?” he said through the expression.

The pegasus was lost. “I mean . . . Technically not, but . . . Like a small bit. Kind of. Yeah.”

“So you didn’t cry a ton in the past few days.” That was no question. “Honest to goddess, you’re lying.”

An awkward chuckle came out of the pegasus. “How’d you find out?”

“You’re Lightning Glare, for fuck’s sake!” declared the pony in an accent exaggerated. “No pony could ever be like you,” avowed he. “Not one pony.”

“Thanks . . .” Light replied. A compliment or insult, he wasn’t sure what it was.

The displaced tranquillity of the environment around them could not be ignored. Really, it was something Lightning Glare enjoyed. Nothingness. And so he did the one thing he liked to do. He found himself gazing around at different objects around the rooms at random: a metal figure of Canterlot castle, books, paintings, a niche in the corner with a plant, a plush rabbit made of velvet, books with long titles.

That feeling came back to him. Not the one from earlier, no. It had been here for many years past, and he was not certain if it was here to stay. He hoped not. It radiated through his body, originating from his chest, making it hurt and the rest of him feel awkward. He clenched his hind legs and blushed, Auriga taking notice.

“It’s coming back to you again, eh?”

Light nodded absentmindedly. “Have you ever had that dream?” he asked, gaping at the ceiling. “The ones that are nightmares too, but they kind of hold your hoof and teach you something?”

“What kind of question is that?” The ghost shot his head back. “How can something scary teach you something? And would you even remember that?”

“Well, I mean that’s kind of the point, Auriga. This world is full of suffering, so we might as well learn something from our weaknesses. And, hey, fear isn’t all that bad. It makes sure we’re safe and all. That’s why we are afraid. We may not feel safe, but we most certainly are.”

The ghost nodded to himself. “Yeah, I get the point you’re tryna make. Hey, isn’t that similar to the concept of pain? How everything hurts so much to remind us how this world can suck at times?”

Thrice resonated knocks as if the universe wanted to answer the inquiry. The abrupt disturbance originated from everywhere and nowhere. Another trio of bangs erected their ears. This time, it could be discerned to have come from downstairs. Both of their heads twisted to the wooden portal.

The two slowly directed their sight to each other’s eyes. “Quick. I’ll hide and you get the door.” Before Light could reply, he was already gone. A meek sound he only ever managed.

“C—coming.” The pegasus slowly made his way across the living room, growing smaller and smaller as he drew closer the threshold. He stood in front of the portal with the last bits of courage he mustered.

From the door came three lone knocks. It was more forceful and separate; ferocious.

Lightning heard the little voice in his head once more, yelling, telling him that it could be anypony else out there. Why he didn’t run and hide was unbeknownst to him. Maybe he was too afraid to do anything. Shutting his eyelids, he reached out and proceeded to open the portal that would welcome in the outside world.

★★★★★★★★★

He was blanketed by the darkness, its soft hug setting a rather tranquil atmosphere. The ghost always preferred the lack of light. It made his day knowing there would be light after darkness. It gave him a sense of hope in a chaotic world. Notwithstanding the current time, he felt like the goddamn opposite. Like a mess left in the shadow dark in a place unknown, he was lost.

Death wasn’t the only one who was chasing him. Many were after Auriga—each and every one of them his personal demons. Like minions of the devil, they thronged to catch up to him. Some of the savages leapt on him, weighing him down, making it harder for him to evade them. Everypony has a devil or two that chases them, but this was too much.

Auriga felt the day he could no longer move was on the horizon, just the next day.

He couldn’t care less anymore to try to eavesdrop on whoever Light was talking at the door. There wasn’t a point.

He wondered if he was in Tartarus. Perfectly befitting, it would seem. Auriga has heard of the theories which state that this world is a mere nothingness due to it being made by beings from the “real” world outside, mostly hearing it from movies and the like. Most of the time he would dismiss them, like the lot in this cursed world. The day he realised how many ponies were so ignorant was the day he promised to never be himself. He learnt that from a quote.

His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled tapping beyond the door. Lightning peeked from the outside, a lopsided smile spread on his face. “. . . Auriga? Somepony’s outside the door.”

Auriga sat up from the floor. “Is it Death?”

Lightning Glare shook his head, entering the room and sealing the door to a close. “Nope. Pretty sure it’s not Death.” He smiled a little more. “It’s Twilight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah . . . Apparently, she has something; a gift of some sort.”

Auriga raised a brow and produced a toothy grin. Lightning rolled his eyes and twisted his lips sweetly. Twilight had been Lightning’s friend for the longest of time. Auriga wasn’t sure how he was alive after all the wacky things they have done, but he managed to get out okay every single time—his and her friendship growing stronger afterward. He almost asked him to ask her out, but he’ll probably write some philosophical crap in his journal, which would’ve wasted his time.

The ghost’s grin slowly turned into a frown of concern as the revelation dawned on him. “Wait. Did you tell her I’m here? As a ghost?”

Light shared Auriga’s expression. “I did not.”

“Light! Are you there? We need to hurry,” the young alicorn called from the ground level.

“Coming!” Lightning stepped closer to the phantom, leaning his muzzle beside his ear. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay here.” The pegasus wheeled around and turned the doorknob.

A purple princess blocked his path, standing bold and proud. “Oh, hello again, Twilight.” She seemed not to notice Light and his reply, only glancing at what lay behind him. In opposition, the pegasus blocked her view by scooting to the right. He awkwardly chuckled. “. . . Nothing to see here!” he spat out enthusiastically, swaying a foreleg in an upside-down arc. The princess punched him out of her way, Lightning falling to the ground with a bang.

Two things he heard: the groaning of Lightning Glare who was knocked out on the ground and the sound of his own whimpering. Before his pair of frightened, blue eyes was the alicorn princess. And she was transforming into the shadow he had seen in the graveyard.

Her stature was similar to the celestial and lunar princesses, adorning long legs, height, and generally large and willowy body. Her wings looked massive, even when the pair were folded. Only her mere silhouette could be discerned; the moonlight was too weak for him to see her other features.

She advanced the apparition with her nose stuck down to the planks below her and a gait of a professional model. Lightning Glare moaned loudly after her grand entrance. That damn lady’s speed would make a wonderbolt flush.

Fight or flight. His muscles were tightened to a point where his bones felt like they would shatter into brittle pieces. The spirit dashed to his left right before she had the chance to swoop in and grab him. Auriga made his way to Lightning, still on the ground, scratching his forehead, wasting not a single second.

“Light! Are you okay?” Auriga poked Light, urging him to respond. He could feel her coming closer. Perhaps this was not a good of a plan he thought it would be.

“I . . . I . . . think so.”

He leaned closer to him. “Get up, now. We have to go before she ge—”

The ghost was yanked from his position. A pair of cold limbs wrapped around his body, cloaking the entirety of him. Auriga, by the passing second, grew more and more lightheaded. The edges of his vision had blackness on it, the darkness steadily swelling to the centre, which would eventually drown him in a lightless void.

The last thing he heard before being put in the dark were the screams of his name from a pegasus scared for his life.

★★★★★★★★★

A thought hadn’t ran through his mind, and he only absconded to the open, and he did it as fast as his four legs would let him. But he did not know where he was running to. A moment of attention to where he may end up at, he did not even try to give.

Fortunately, she wasn’t in his line of sight, and he oddly relied on the fact that he could not “sense” her as a relief to calm himself down a little bit. He did not know why he could “feel” her presence when she was close. It was the same feeling somebody gets when they feel they’re being watched. And this feeling . . . he was too certain of it.

As the stallion moved through the town, he slowly started to feel the fatigue kicking in. He stopped to catch his breath, breathing in and out. Light took this opportunity to gather his thoughts on the events that transpired only moments ago.

Auriga . . . She took him. She took him away from me! He felt his jaw clench due to a blended mix of emotions: sadness, anger, and a rising trepidation. Grunting, he slammed a hoof against the fertile ground. He was talking to himself so quickly that he could not distinguish the words in the slurs. She certainly knew they were obscenities, though.

“Light? Light!” Abrupt was the stop of his swearing. He swore the sound of his voice belonged to a specific alicorn he was tricked to believe he met. And so Light did the only thing he can really do at the present time. “Wait! Come back!” the disembodied voice of the purple mare called behind him. Pushing her out of his mind, he continued to further himself, panting. “Come back!”

The entire world whizzed around him: trees, houses, several ponies alike, all of which were transfixed at him and staring. He cut through the night air like a knife to melted butter, air gushing through his feathers as he felt the inevitable fray for moving with all his might. He stopped dead on his tracks when Twilight landed in front of him, flying this whole time. He whimpered quietly, accompanying legs of rubber as he shivered in the late night.

“Easy, easy,” consoled she. The expression displayed of him made it clear it wasn’t working. He only cowered under her gaze, looking at her as if she was a ghost. “It’s me,” she softly stated. The pegasus looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Is there anything wrong?” Her only reply was the cacophony of the whimpering growing stronger. Light’s legs stressed under the weight of him, and he collapsed with a thud of finality.

He could feel the soft hooves of hers rub along the fur of his, urging him to get up or at least say anything. The words of comfort that came out of her mouth drowned in a dirty cesspool of his unexplainable premonitions. Light imagined himself in that very same slush of filth, forever hopeless of any escape, like this situation. The light was so far away . . .

This’ll be with me forever, he slowly told to himself. The guilt will stay here. Until the day I’m in my deathbed. Until everypony forgets my name. Until the end of time. Even after reciting those thoughts, he could get not the fact it could be accepted. That he could accept it. Now, he wasn’t sure if he was even Lightning Glare anymore. He let time do the healing. He thought himself as a coward for allowing it to heal his soul. He thought himself a selfish. It was a hard pill to swallow, the fact that Auriga was gone. He wasn’t certain if he should take it and move on.

The faint sound of a yell rang in his ears. It repeated itself, a strong roar compared to the last time it stated itself. He slowly transitioned back to the world of reality. “Snap out of it!”

“W—what?!” His eyes were large and heavy, already struggling to observe his surroundings. The first thing he saw was a pair of blazing velvet irises, instantly recognizing the beholder of the shining pair.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright,” the alicorn said to herself in relief. She held up a hoof for him to grasp. “What happened?”

“Hold on. How do I know you’re really Twilight?” he suddenly threw at her. Those eyes of his narrowed, reducing to mere slits he used to scan her person as if she were some security threat.

A confused Twilight stood before him. There was a small frown on her face, written by confusion opposed to anger. “How do you know I’m Twilight . . .” A mere second was needed for her to think of something that would prove to him her authenticity. “Your seventeenth birthday”—she pointed at him—“I gave you a copy of The Facts in the Case of M. Trottingham. Ever since you can’t stop talking about it.”

Instantly he dropped his skepticism and face along with it. Crawling behind his back and weighing him down, a rather familiar feeling replaced it: shame. How he dreaded it for the entirety of his life; how it yanked him down to the depths; how it made him completely stop. If the episode he experienced was a hurricane, then this was more of a flash flood—weaker but strong still, arriving as soon as his previous demeanor departed hastily.

Light found himself wedged in a difficult position. On one hoof, the thought of him initially treating Twilight in a manner like that left a bitter taste in his mouth. On the other, she was eyeing him with concern. Celestia knows what’ll happen next. The precursing behavior of his made him want to simply vanish from the scene altogether.

“Lightning?” she called to him. “Are you alright?”

The pegasus shook his head slowly.

“Did something happen?” she urged for his reply. “You were running like a madmare.” Not a single word was said, and the silence shimmied its way between them. Light seemed to deny she existed—the stallion settling his haunches down, incredulity in his eyes.

For a while he sat there, in the same place.

“It’s . . . a long story,” he managed to say once the quiet decided to go. Before she had a chance to speak, he added in a begging tone, “Don’t ask. Please, don’t ask.”

She wearily eyed him. The stallion slumped to the ground with legs of boiled noodles. “Tell me, Light. There’s clearly something wrong here.”

“Like I said, it’s a long story. And I said: don’t ask.” The words came out from his buried nuzzle, the forehooves of his cloaking the entirety of his head.

She made an uncomfortable expression. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Lightning. I want to know what is it that makes you this way.”

A pathetic motion of his ears was her only reply.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” he heard Twilight ask disappointedly.

His reply was of the same.

Engulfed in darkness, seeing not a thing in sight, he partially enjoyed this lack of . . . anything. He was left with only himself, free to do whatever he may please. It was similar to a vacation, a long break from the harshness of reality, a trip to the land of your own imagination and be in quietude. He felt like he was in a mother’s womb, fragile as glass, unknowing of the world around him. This was the place he sought like many others.

A swoosh came from nowhere, taking his attention. The sparkling coming afterward was one of undeniable use of magic. He looked up. Sadly, he wasn’t in his void of a world anymore.

Rows of bookshelves towered over him, closely coming together behind him, forming an arc, then finally meeting on the other side of the circular room. No longer did the moon light up the scene, but rather a lone crystal chandelier that illuminated the area with its blue luminescence. The windows that looked to be up in the heavens allowed the viewing of the inky sky, pinpoints of light sparkling on the tapestry. Glassy tree trunks branched upwards from the sides, their purple colour also gleaming like the stars beyond the upper reaches.

The sight of this place took the pegasus to his hooves. Twilight was before him, giving him that same look he had given him in the long time they had known each other. She said not even a word, merely watching him. Studying him.

The pegasus distanced himself from the lavender mare. He breathily concurred a hushed, pained chuckle. “I’m . . . sorry?” Light commanded his wings to massively shrug. Light dropped the act and frowned. After the events of the past hour, there had been something on his chest. It sent pokes all around his spine, teasing him. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he poignantly declared.

Nothing was on her face. And then she smiled. Barely noticeable, those lips never departed as one side lifted up. Her eyes glimmered. “Well, at least we both are,” she concurred on the bright side. “I have no clue either.”

A smile he managed to do as well.

Then it struck him. He was in a library. Thousands of reading material lined the high walls around him. Light didn’t know the words they hold, but if he could find that one specific thing . . . He already started his hunt, abandoning her presence.

“Twilight, do you have any books about the afterlife? Absolutely anything at all will do.”

She appeared by his side. Her ears perked curiously. “Books on the afterlife, you say . . .” The alicorn started down the hall, averting her eyes to a lot of spots on the shelf.

“Take as much as you can, please.” Light had not intended to sound so firm.

He watched as Twilight Sparkle moved abreast the wall—extracting books out of their cramped confinements to the world outside. Once done, the alicorn flew all of the hard-bound reading material to a table nearby. A small mound had been made then and there.

“Thank you.” Light heard himself say. He proceeded to delve into the pages. Word by word, he absorbed absolutely anything, from the most absurd of thoughts to ones that could be close to the scope of reality. Endless, they seemed to be. Only twice did a disruption occur: once when Twilight coughed a small cough and a sniff from him.

He scanned a long passage from a book entitled A Tale of Gods & Ponies. The nonfiction book told that throughout the history of all ponykind that the belief of the afterlife had already existed. The first gods were of mysterious nature. The greatest architects and builders designed and built a grand temple several ten miles from Canterlot, the oldest in all the world. Hundreds of thousands still flock to it in the present day, admiring the gold and bronze pillars and a black marble ceiling that seemed to reach for the stars, all still in pristine condition after a millennium. He had always known that the greatest achievements of all ponykind was in the name of not just the gods, but to all cultures, traditions, and existential thinking in all the realm.

There would be no afterlife without life, the book informed. The notion of a heaven and hell and gods and goddesses had been seemingly implanted in the mind of fellow ponykind, as if it were common knowledge. This has led some to argue about the fact that either ponykind invented these heavens and hells and gods and goddesses or they had simply known they were real, stating that they let themselves follow their hearts. But what if these gods created us to believe in other gods—wrong gods? the book pointed out. Or maybe these gods simply vanished and never came back? The dilemma was etched in our minds and souls. For as long as there is intelligent life, the battle between atheism and creationism appears to have no end—only a beginning, like the gods and goddesses depicted in history.

“This is about Auriga, isn’t it?” A voice broke away the quiet. He ceased his reading, glancing at the purple alicorn. Lightning dared not to let his mouth open.

“No . . .”

“It is, isn’t it?” worriedly spoke out she, hoping it wouldn’t. “The books I have you to read . . . they’re telling the theories of existentialism and what happens after you die.”

Lightning Glare pressed his two lips forcefully.

From her came an exasperated sigh of long. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m always here to help you with these kinds of things.” The pegasus’ ears turned flaccid, cheeks reddening at that. “That’s what friends are for, Light.” She stood up quickly. “I won’t let you bottle up your emotions that way. You have to let it out.” The stallion still remained silent. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”

A grace to flush he still managed to have. “It’s not that I’m doing this because I don’t want to tell you my feelings,” he very timidly said. “There’s something that you probably should not be so eager to yearn for,” counselled Light. “I’m not sure if you’ll even believe me or not. You’ll think of me as insane, Twilight.” He paused. “I think I should first try to sort things out first.”

Intrigued, Twilight questioned, “What things?”

Light shook his head. “Just . . .”The pegasus sighed. “I can’t keep this secret forever, can I?” he shyly told himself. Not a word came from her. Not even one.

“Twilight,” he started, “please hear me out when I say this. I went to visit Auriga’s grave an hour ago. He . . . was a ghost. He urged me to leave and we did so. We talked for a while before a knock came from the door; Auriga told me to get it as he hid.” The words of his were sluggish as he told her. Her teeth gritted along each other inside her closed mouth through the entirety of it. “Then . . . somepony who . . . took the form of you broke in and took him away.”

Her mouth went leeway. For a moment her jaw dangled, accompanied by her tongue too. He let her process the information for some time. The gears that made her head work were jammed and stuck and broken.“What?”

“I know, I know. It may seem unbelievable, Twilight, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe any of this . . .” Light placed a hoof on his chest slowly. “But I know what I saw. Auriga and the pony he was running from . . . they were there.” The ears of his sagged and his neck slumped down.

Light pressed his face on his crossed hooves on the table. The alicorn was utterly silent. A snuffle escaped the broken mess that was Lightning Glare. He felt the tears spread across his burning cheeks, ashamed that he knew Twilight was watching. He trembled more when his voice and words replayed from his memory.

He felt pats on his back. “Everything’s going to be alright,” he heard her say.

For a while he had been there, weeping in the dark, sullen gasps of air coming out and sweeping the room with its piteousness. The breath he so desperately tried to shallow, but alas, it only worsened. Acquiesced, Light let the waterworks run. The salty tears dried on his coat and face. He was only sniffling now.

Light no longer cried, but he knew Twilight was still there—watching him. The last bits of courage he found had long disappeared. Only did he make his skull meet further with the wood of hard.

Light waited it out after he was finished.

That’s strange. Twilight hasn’t said anything. He very slowly peeked from his safe-haven. Her face was unassuming. Sympathetic, even. He brought himself up.

“Are you alright?”

The pegasus shied away.

He gave a solemn nod.

“I’ll be here for you,” she stated. The alicorn placed a hoof on the table. “You’re going to be better now.”

A glance he took at the large hill he’d have to scale in order to find the answer he seeked. From the size of the thing, he felt like he was going to climb a mountain—a mountain composed of books of songs and stories.

★★★★★★★★★

He fancied not the sight before him.

The hourglass and pentagram chased him, much like how Death seemed to do width Auriga. It was a flashing probe in the void. Time seemed to tick and tock and tick and tock. Anywhere he got to was no use. The pentagram rotated round and round as it graced him with its presence. Sand squeezed through the small neck of it. As soon as its time was up, the hourglass rotated itself, gravity taking its toll, pulling down the grains to the bottom.

Light was certain the image conjured had come and gone and repeated for hours. Mattered not what he tried to do; is attempts were feeble, he had declared long ago. Not even the sound of his screaming did he manage to hear. The void drowned his desperate cries for mercy before the tongue of his managed to produce the sorrowful words. For the countless number of times since forever did it once more turn. Had it always have . . .

Then it disappeared. And he was in a dark hallway. He could see the outline of the walls in white like chalk on a chalkboard. Lined on the sides where insults, telling him to die, go away, shut up. He felt himself slowly turning insane.

Then he was falling. The ground below gave way, and he fell. Light flapped his wings, finding no use of them once he discovered he was still plummeting down. The haunting symbols grew outwards to all of the directions he could see, and it terrified him. Light pushed with the use of his pair full of feathers with a renewed vigor for the safety of the life of his.

He saw a pinpoint of light hover above him, so the pegasus shot up a grasping hoof. It faded away, a dismay to him, it was, sinking into the waves of a sea of darkness. His hope had also fallen to the sky and sank and swayed up to the waves.

Space. Its vastness made him feel small, yet the stars helped alleviate that feeling of loneliness. There were none of them here, the lot of them departing into a place of unknown, and that’s when he felt truly alone.

A vermillion halo appeared, and the stallion let out a gasp. Brighter than anything else he had ever laid his eyes on, he concluded with no trace of doubt. The outline remained sharp, even with the intensity that burned his eyes. It only increased in intensity.

The vastness of empty space was filled by the outward moving edges of the circle and everything contained within. The hourglass swelled up to grow in a size even he couldn’t fathom. He hadn’t the time to realise that it couldn’t be long now.

Now he was in the hourglass. How he could see even with the darkness outside, Light didn’t know. How he was even here, he couldn’t begin to imagine. He slowly followed a traced path running along the edges of the bottom. The pegasus remarked a few words to himself, knowing full well what they meant when no voice could be heard. Light felt the pressure of a heap of sand come down his hair and onto his face. Light covered his eyes and pushed his feeble body against the glass, staying as far away from the centre.

A meek, unheard whimper came out of him. The continuous flow of sand came pouring from the chamber above; a small collection of mass was created then and there. A hill took its place right after that. In what felt like a short time, the circular compartment was full of sand halfway to the opening.

After all this time only more came. Noticeable was the speed of it, and he knew he hadn’t time save for several minutes last. The infinitesimal little pieces collected around him. He was on the verge of total submersion. There was sand up until the bottom of his chin. He struggled to wiggle free from this irritating prison.

“Stop it! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT, STOOOOOP ITTTTT!!!”

There came a feminine voice. Soft as silk, like a queen’s, but whispery like the wind, it was. It echoed once more. “Would you rather live a beautiful lie or face a harsh truth?” He thought of this as the end.

“I—I don’t know! I don’t know! Just let me go!”

“I can do that not, for it is you that traps thyself. I have no power over you. Do you need be freed?”

“Just STOP that and STOP playing these games! I need Auriga back, now!”

“Then you will follow every command I utter to thee. Hark to me.”

★★★★★★★★★

The darkest hour had arrived a quarter hour ago. The moon was full during this night. Twilight would go out on the fields with her telescope to track the array of constellations the night had to offer; some were big, some were small, but all of them undoubtedly left the eyes dazzling wonders.

Her mind was on the comet shower that would occur a fortnight from now. She would bring her telescope once more like all other times to observe it and leave it be along with her scholarly mindset, so she could just watch it out of pleasure. The shooting stars needed to be appreciated through different means.

The purple alicorn sauntered down the high halls. Passing by the library, she heard the muffled noises coming from inside. Curious, she slowly peeked inside. She saw a pegasus hunched down on a book, muttering to himself in rapid-fire speed. He would slam an angry hoof to the table every now and then. His hair looked like a bird’s nest if it hadn’t looked like one already.

“Light . . . ?”

The pegasus snapped out of his delusional state. His eyes locked onto her, waving a dismissive hoof, shooing her away. “I’m busy, Twilight. Can’t you see?”

“Yes, I can see. But I can also see that you’re tired,” she gave back. He frowned at that. “Rest, Lightning. For your own sake, please.”

Only a moment did he notice her. He returned to his browsing.

She sighed.

“Hey!” Lightning cried out when the book was yanked out of his vision. “G—give it back!” The purple aura never left—traveling the book to the alicorn. She grabbed the book out of the air, clutching it hard.

“Sleep,” she said simply. “You can continue this tomorrow.”

“Twilight, please, just give it back. I—I can maybe talk with you about this some other time, okay?” He knocked over some books whilst he neared. “Come on, Twilight. We could end this now, you hear me?” He chuckled. “Then we could go to bed, and sleep, yes, sleep, and get stuck in our nightmares because everytime it just needs to happen! Then I get to wake up once more and dream of another nightmare and this stupid cycle repeats, it just repeats, I say, with no end, yes, no end, I’m sure of it, but we could ease the pain, we could ease the pain, we could ease the pain.”

“Light! What’s gotten into you?!”

Lightning perked his head up to meet her gaze. He had a face that had no idea what the beholder should be feeling. Then, as if it had remembered what happened ten seconds ago, he turned its lips into a twist of terror.

“T—Twilight! I—I was . . . oh Celestia. I—I’m . . . I’m . . .” A lack of confidence visible in him, Light reached up to his mane and snaked his hoof through it. The strands lurched here and there randomly. From afar still, she could see the fear and restlessness in his eyes. He looked absolutely awful.

She managed to interrupt whilst he was stuttering incoherently. “You’ve lost your sanity, Light.” Twilight looked at his eye.

He scratched the back of his neck feebly. “I‘ve only been awake for at least thirty hours only, Twilight.” He smacked his lips, a smooch wet making her eye twitch. Now he’s lost it all.

And Twilight lost it all too. “You’ve been awake for at least thirty hours?! What the hay were you thinking? Are you nuts!”

Light only shrank so much that it looked as if he wished to disappear completely.

The stallion fought against his bonds as the alicorn wrapped him around her aura. It hurt her to see him like this. She hasn’t a choice, and she had to make one quick. Twilight could see the tears as he begged and cried and writhed in her prison. His pleas were reduced to mere gurgles and moans. He’s a fighter, Twilight had to admit; six minutes of battle in total.

The journey to a place he not knew was noiseless and peaceful.

She let the window open. How cold it was in here. He was a bundle of anxious shaking by the time they arrived; she rocked him back and forth in the way to give him the slightest comfort. She continued to rock him still, watching him like a fetus in a mother’s womb. Light nuzzled the magic like a foal tired of playing after a long day of play. He never not moved, though he said not a thing, eyes sewn shut.

Light released a tired sigh. He furthered into the dream realm, she knew. Twilight stopped the rocking. His body rotated gently in air, a bittersweet sound coming from him, his mane getting messier more. A tad cute, Twilight did have to admit, awaiting his full presence in the expanses of Luna. He muttered ever-so-solemnly; Twilight could hear but not understand, and she realised he was not fully asleep. So she waited.

A thousand moons have passed when the stallion fell into a slumber with a sad twist of his lips.

The alicorn decided to stay for a while, picking up a book and reading by his side. He would murmur a few pointless things, but she knew he was asleep. His snores were soft and willowy when they travelled through the air. He looked the most peaceful when asleep, looking like a stallion who had accomplished life itself, looking like a pony who finally found peace.

She reached out to pat him slowly. Twilight smiled sadly before slipping out the door. She put a spell on it to make sure he didn’t leave the room. It was easy to cast, but it wasn’t at the same time. It hurt.

An envelope lay on the library floor, right in front of here, one she hadn’t yet seen.

A key was in there. And a note. The note was rectangular and white. Crumpled too, like scratch paper thrown in a rubbish bin. She did not feel victorious after that altercation, and her dauntless spirits broke out of her and escaped. What is this?

The writing on it was a tad crude.

She read it.

Hello.

I’m feeling a little down right now. Whoever’s reading this, no matter who you are, I just want to say that in a world full of too much of everything, you are here. You’re all still here. You’re in a rock, hurtling through space into a void of nothingness. You are all already in the void. We have always been. Does this life have any meaning? I personally haven’t a clue. Maybe its meaning is to find its meaning, if that makes sense. Bad, good, whatever you may be, I have one thing to say to you.

I like you for making this world more interesting. More real.

I’m a fool. Pathetic, insecure, and a nopony. But I’ve met good friends here who aren’t. I don’t despise them, no. Only adore them, really. They can do what I can’t. I’ll never give them enough thanks for making that life more bearable.

The only reason this letter has been made is that I want to give anypony—especially my friends—some closure. What happened to Light? they may ask. I hate things that are too close yet so far.

I killed myself. That’s what I did. I hid my body so none of you can see it. There’s no point in finding it, anyway.

Twilight, if you’re reading this, then I have something for you in my bank account in Canterlot. There’s the key. You already have access to it; there should be no problem. Just get there and you’ll know what it is when you see it. It’s the only thing I can leave to you.

I know some ponies say that I need to stop saying “sorry” too much, but I really am. I’m sorry for being me! I can’t change that now. But you can! Don’t mull over me! Live your life like I was never there. I don’t care if you remember or forget what I’ve done! Save yourselves from being somepony like me, an anxious nopony who’s too scared to even try.

Forget about who I am and be who you want to be.

You are the reason I never wished to be here to make these mistakes.

With Love, Lightning Glare

Second

Second

What’s gotten into Light? she asked. Why does he do this to himself? She stared at the keys.

Twilight Sparkle scanned the lavish lobby of the bank. Gilded walls closed in on her, but they were far apart, making the space massive. Many commonfolk peppered said space, and the aristocrats had their noses high, showing off jewellery of pure gold and diamonds and pearls and rubies.

“I would like to make a withdrawal, please.” She slid the key and withdrawal slip to the cashier. He glanced at it both for a moment.

“Right this way.” She followed him through tight security, tighter than what she expected. The corridor she went through was small, and on her sides was the place of many unknown treasures. She was surprised when he skipped them all, keeping his pace and still moving, the vaults gradually becoming bigger. In truth, she had never seen Light’s safe deposit before, but she did have a place in his signature card.

Her jaw fell when she looked at the size of his safe deposit door. It was massive, the metal lustrous. The banker stuck the key in, turning it, revealing the trove of his treasures. He nodded to her and left.

Twilight had to admit the space was big in there. There was a pile of bits on the corner, but that didn’t catch her eye. There was a tricycle, a kite, some vintage clothes that hung from their hangers, and a picture of him and his parents.

Lightning, sweet Celestia, how much do you pay the bank?

Wait. What was that, behind the clothes? It was dark. Twilight reached in and revealed what was in there. Writing.

The eyes of Death watches always. Go to princess Celestia and show her the suicide letter.

This chamber held many secrets. From the floor to the windows, everything had a meaning, and everything was put there for a reason. It had been planned when Canterlot Castle had been built many years past, in a land and time whole different, but still Equestria. It was weird, the fact of that, but it is true.

He wants to kill himself, she heard herself say, he feels so terrible for what he is.

Princess Celestia looked at the note with concern, furrowing her brow. “How long has he felt like this?” The monarch sat high on her throne, crown and regalia shining, mane flowing. Twilight made a face whilst Luna watched.

“He’s been like this for as long as I met him,” she answered matter-of-factly. “But nopony knows how long he’s been feeling like this.”

The princess nodded silently, eyes glued on the suicide letter. A silence grew between them.

It had been three hours past since he fell into a sleep and when she had found the note he thought would be his last. His last . . . Light always thought like that. So final, in a way. Everything had to be a first and a last and everything in between to him, like he can’t let go of a moment, any moment, in fact. You could punch him in the face and he would hold on to it forever like a good memory to laugh at. And she kind of appreciated that, in a way.

“Did you talk to him after you found out?”

“I didn’t. I tried to wake him up, but that did nothing. He’s quite a heavy sleeper.”

“What happened before all of this?” Luna broke in whilst the older sister read intently.

Oh, boy. “That’s . . . very hard to explain, princess.”

Her brow moved. “Is it one matter personal?”

And this is one of the reasons it’s complicated. “Well . . . not quite exactly.”

“So what is it?”

“I don’t know, princess.” She was nonplussed by the remark. “I’m as confused at this situation as you, in a way. Light talked about this being named Death and—”

“What?!”

“What?!”

The two princess gawked at her like pairs of lummoxes.

Especially Celestia. “This . . . how could he have known she even exists?” And how long could he have known? She is something not even historians and professors know of. Nopony should know of this. There isn’t any record of her in any library anymore and . . .” Perhaps the princess said too much; Twilight gazed at her like a goddess that fell from the heavens. Princess Celestia already knew what that meant, and Luna smacked a hoof on her face.

Her sigh was that of regret. “Perhaps I should take this with a mountain of salt.” She looked at Twilight seriously. “I need your consent that you may never speak of this, dear Twilight. This is a topic as fragile as glass, and it should be taken with care, not lightly, but care. Do you promise not to speak of this with anypony else other than Luna and I?”

Twilight felt like an avalanche hit her. Keeping a secret this important with the princesses? It felt odd, this feeling going through her, resonating from her heart and pumping through her veins and arteries and fueling her soul to unprecedented levels. “I promise,” she said quietly, like a squeak.

The princess smiled warmly. “Good.” She looked at her two guards. “Leave us be,” she commanded. The two left, leaving them alone, shutting the doors.

The princess started her tale at once. “Long ago, before the earliest lords and lands and kingdoms of young and old alike, there was a being that all knew and all feared. A being so final, so irrefutable, a monster so real. She isn’t a monster from our nightmares as fillies, no. She is a whole beast entirely. A beast that existed as long as life itself.” Twilight leaned in to hear when her voice was of a whisper. “That monster is Death. Death . . . a being we all have to face in the end. A being that lives on . . . forever and ever.”

Twilight took a moment to think about that. “Wait . . . so you’re saying that Death . . . Death existed before life itself?”

The princess nodded.

“Is there any other thing he had mentioned of her?” princess Luna asked.

“Kinda, actually. When he was asleep, he murmured a few things I thought was pointless mumbling, but now I think is . . . creepy.”

“What things?”

“One of them was ‘I don’t know; I want both but I don’t know.’ One was ‘The eyes of Death watches always.’ The last was ‘Stop, stop, stop, stop . . .’ It just kept on going.”

The two sisters looked at each other in deep concern.

“Twilight,” Celestia started, “there is a correlation with one of the things you just said and Death.” She paused. “Here’s the thing: the phrase ‘the eyes of Death watches always’ is inscribed on a painting, and we haven’t seen it for four hundred years. The first time it was seen was the last, unfortunately.”

Luna nodded. “Mayhaps I should continue on, sister.” She strode to where Twilight was. “There is a tale, and therein lies the connection between the painting and Death.

“During my banishment and before the songs of creation and before the days of old themselves, there once was a mare named Flaura. Flaura was a mare who loved flowers, oh, yes. Marigolds and roses and lilies and the like, all admired by her like foalhood friends. Once she put them all in a single bouquet, carefully picking the colours to see fit, and she was delighted with herself in her creation. She lived the rest of her days perfecting her creation, again and again to a point where she put it into a painting. The vividness was unlike anything of its time, for she made her own paint, and to this day, nopony could ever make something remotely close to what she did. There was a special feeling when looking at her works.”

“Wait, do ponies even know this painting exists?” Twilight brought up.

“No, Twilight. Nopony but us three know of its existence.”

Luna nodded. “But alas, she did not last. Death is inevitable, no doubt, like my sister said, and something had happened to her that dragged her into the realm of the deceased. My sister invited her to the Grand Temple to present her works to the Equestrian public, and all the sudden the lights went out, and . . . and there she was, standing over Flaura. And she . . .” She smacked her lips. “Albeit thou know how ponies are: stubborn. It seems that even Death has not the power to take the poor mare with her at first; even a wiht harboring powers of great strength like her seem to not overrule some qualities of the living. Impregnable she looked to be, escaping from the jaws of Death like no pony had attempted, like it was easy, and we still don’t know why is that, how she resisted her power.

“Death is a being of ultimate wisdom and power, yes, but that does not mean she hasn’t her limits. Only those who own their minds can read it and understand it in a way others simply can’t. That’s one of the things we know she can’t do: read minds.

“However, notwithstanding all of what Flaura did, she could not fend for herself for ever, and the freedom she once had was rather short-lived. And then Death did something to her . . . something that . . .” Luna shook her head in disgust.

Twilight asked carefully, “What was her punishment?”

Luna looked at her seriously. “It . . . it was . . . it was certainly more terrible than any death I’ve seen.”

The purple alicorn found herself intrigued and terrified for a moment. “What happened to her?”

The Lunar alicorn suppressed a whimper. “Her soul was to haunt the painting forevermore.”

Twilight Sparkle couldn’t believe it. A being of power like that existing and dooming some poor mare into a painting for all eternity? How? How was it possible? How did this Death do something like this? How was this all real? “I . . . I can’t believe this . . .”

“I remember seeing her stand over her and turn her into it,” Celestia said. “I remember her face.” She frowned. “And the painting,” Celestia told with a sigh. “It had been stored into an undisclosed location. Even we don’t know if its whereabouts. I believe it is somewhere near Canterlot, though. But that’s just speculation.”

“There is also the code,” princess Luna said.

“Ah, yes. The code.”

“Wait, there’s a code?” She was bedazzled by the prospect.

“Yes, Twilight. There is a code. Normally, it would say . . . oh, what was it again? It’s been a long time, Twilight, so forgive me if some of this may be fuzzy.”

“Princess, if I may ask, why hasn’t anypony other than us know of this painting?”

The princess looked so scared all of the sudden, glancing around every little niche and corner, as if somepony was watching there. “The ponies who share about it and the ponies they share it to . . . I silenced them and had an agreement. It’s amazing, really, how a secret like this has been held for so long.”

“But . . . but we have to make this right!”

“We’ve thought of that, Twilight Sparkle, we really have,” Luna interrupted, “but you have to understand that it is for the best for the safety of all the other ponies out there.” She breathed, “There are two evils that we needed to choose. And we chose the one that would keep the rest of ponykind oblivious.”

“Spike! Is Light in there?”

Her talk with the princesses was certainly . . . interesting. It was weird to have all of this interesting information, and she could not believe some of it too. She hoped for the better, that she would understand. The dragon looked at her, who was by a door.

“Yeah. He’s in here, sleeping, just like when you left. And he does sleep pretty heavily, actually.” He laughed at that. “Heh, it’s like he’s not actually in there.” He lazily opened the door with his claws, glimpsing inside. His attitude changed fast. “Oh. Um, Twilight, I think I need to re-answer that . . .”

A pentagram, hourglass and circle oozed on the wall, lines of text surrounding it, fading away slightly.

There seemed to be no meaning behind it all, the scribbles on the wall surrounding the shape; everything in it was just a mess. Thou ought find a clue what it means, one said, what all of it means. She found herself reading a few out loud. And Twilight asked in her mind some questions of her own too; many about Light and Auriga and a few about her sanity.

Twilight and Spike sweeped their eyes around the space, searching for his whereabouts, as if he would jump out and say everything would be fine. She kind of hoped for that. Twilight noticed the books scattered on the floor, exposed, pages torn out and covers opened. She leaned in on a few to discover a theme: ancient architecture.

“What do they mean . . . what do they mean . . .” she whispered to the wall. “Where are you?”

“I don’t like the sound of this. This is getting weird,” Spike commented from behind.

“Yeah, Spike.” She looked around the room once more. She pointed at the wall. “But I wonder why this was left here. And how.”

“Some sort of cryptic message? A clue to where he may be?” the dragon suggested.

“Yes, probably, but we’re going to have to find that out if that’s the case,” she said. “Other than the pentagram and hourglass, there’s nothing but writing.” She sighed. Twilight sulked a little.

“Is there something wrong, Twilight?”

She seemed not notice him but shook her head anyway.

“I . . . Don’t take this the wrong way, Spike, but I frankly can’t tell,” Twilight said calmly.

“Why not? Is it top-secret?” he said like a foal, circling both claws in the air and contorting his face.

“You could put it that way. But I want you to know that this is very important. Anypony who knows of it, or even talks to me is in grave danger.” She thought of a preface on how she could explain some of this, but she sewed her lips shut. “Spike, don’t ever talk of this to anypony, you understand?”

The dragon looked concerned, but he relentlessly answered, “Alright, Twilight, if it’s that important.”

“Thanks, Spike, I knew I could trust you. Now let’s look for Lightning Glare.” The worry returned to her face, remembering he was gone. The two began their search once again. Whilst Spike looked around the hallways outside, Twilight checked the window. Brittle pieces were left on the edges, poking out, dangerous. Her head came out of the frame, looking down and seeing a broken chair down on the grass.

Spike left and gone, going around the castle and looking for an infinitesimal clue for him. She idly crossed her legs in the centre of the room, swaying in the moonlight so bright it poured in and casted her long shadow, a mime.

A long darkness graced and moved behind her. It was probably Spike’s.

The atmosphere danced around her, and she wondered of the dance Light’s having with Death. Dust moved around in the scope of the moonlight, shining like the chandelier she was under, in a night that felt forever eternal, shining like specks of gold and diamond. It was strangely quiet, but it wasn’t that strange if she thought of it. Everypony was asleep, but it was still odd.

An idea struck her. “Maybe if I . . .” She shot a beam of magic at it. The pentagram’s lines suddenly changed colours.

★★★★★★★★★

I’m free. I escaped. I’m not there anymore.

Light liked the cushions he sat his haunches on. A dawn’s horizon it was, red and powerful, not forgetting the sweeping of the sun in the sky, cleaning it into a cloth so perfect, paving a way for the moon. It reminded him also of the velveteen rabbit he owned. He’s had it circa a decade in the past, as a gift from Twilight. Even with his coming of age, he possessed it still, an unambiguous reminder of the past. He played with it like a filly would do to a doll, and being older helped not in the way others had perceived it. Weird to have, he knew, but he helped himself not—he couldn’t. He’s my special friend—a friend I’ll hold dear forever.

“Excuse me sir, but would you like some treats?” he heard her say. There was a trolley filled with food and drinks of all kinds, swaying lightly along the rhythm of the moving train.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed you. Erm . . . the chocolate bar would be nice. And a milk glass, please.” The steward handed said items, Light giving her the appropriate payment. She gave a smile and a thank you and departed.

He looked at the bar and milk. Then around the train. He focused his sight on the window, looking opposite the train’s direction as clearly as he can. Had Spike and Twilight found out he was gone yet? They must’ve. The pegasus clenched his hoof. He just left them—all of them—without a word. And they were concerned of him, he was sure, even if he cared not of what ought happen to him. He only looked at the consequences in the dilemma he stuck himself in. The lot he knew could think of anything that might’ve happened to him.

He felt selfish.

The appetite left him; Light placed the bar and milk beside him. His gaze found the window once more, but not at where he once was, but where he was going. Canterlot. More specifically, the site by Canterlot . . . The Grand Temple of Hermes, a temple so grand, so tall, so . . . unreal. And he really was going there. He’d read about it before, but he never actually thought he would visit a place like that.

The figure of the peaks could be seen, and perched high amongst them was the castle. The tiny lights of it flickered from the circulation of winds, creating a golden halo around it. That was nothing compared to the lights of Canterlot, which was a flame on top of a torch up high, illuminating the darkness of Equestria and eventually the world.

He made fit nopony was looking at him. Crouched down he did, and rummaged from the bag he “borrowed.” He took the map out, tracing it with a hooftip. She told me the guards would be here, one in each space in between the pillars. She told me that I only have a short amount of time before they come back and ruin everything. Then you can go to the centre and get him back.

Lightning wanted to follow her every order perfectly.

You can’t ruin this; you just can’t. You’ve screwed up many times before, but this time you’ll succeed, you understand me? You have failed yourself so many times before, but you’re not going to let you anxiety get the best of you. Remember what it is; it’s a monster. And if you give it what you want, then all of this will be destined to fail. You can’t let it . . . You just can’t let it . . . But it’s here. It always has and it always will be.

Are you sad? Why are you sad? You’re not sad about him? Why? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you think like normal things and just not cry every single time? Why do you have to think like this if it’s all pointless in the end? You know it’s going to be nothing later but . . . no . . . I will care about this later. That’s what that monster is going to do to you . . .

All he could feel was his own four legs carry him through all the noise: ponies saying things, luggages rolling and loading and dropping, the horn of the train blowing into the air. He occasionally bumped on somepony. The pegasus only had his mind to meddle with at the moment.

What has Twilight told you? You’re living the good life: good friends, good house, good job, good everything . . . you haven’t the reason to be this sad for such a long time, even before Auriga’s death. And yet you are. You are sad, but you also feel nothing. A—A . . . absolutely nothing.

“Where to?” The taxi stallion asked politely.

“Grand Temple of Hermes,” he said very calmly.

The taxi cab he remembered not boarding zoomed. Wait, did he actually remember anything before it? I guess it doesn’t matter, he mused, looking back.

It felt like a short ride.

“Fifteen bits.”

He paid the money and he left.

In its opulence, he saw it, and it was much bigger than he anticipated. Sixty meters tall, in all its glory. There were large spotlights that lighted the beast, but the pillars shone so bright he could see it reflect the city on the mountains. The pillars were magically hardened, so the golden exterior was still in the purest form, but the bronze inside helped it lift the massive marble roof of black onyx. Tourists were littered all around, taking pictures of it, whilst some just sat there and feasted it with their own eyes, taking in the large monster of a beast of a temple.

The temple stood on top of a small hill, grand staircases sprouting from different sides, but the temple itself looked more like a mountain compared to the hill beneath.

As he approached it, the pillars towered over him, seeming to grow taller and taller. The breadth was impressive still, like it could swallow the earth and everything beneath it. Light could see flecks of gold particles flicker and cavort, knowing that they came from the pillars themselves. It was myth that gold delivers warmth to the body and soothes it, but for certain it does soothe the soul of one and many.

There was a mare with large-rimmed glasses idly talking to a few. “What time does the temple close?” He asked the docent.

“Very soon, I expect. Only a quarter hour before the guards tell everypony to leave, sir,” answered she.

“Thanks.” Briskly, he snaked through throngs of crowd, arriving at the mouth of the beast and getting swallowed.

Saying the space was opulent would be an understatement. Every surface was a canvas filled with paint and gilded, giving a feeling he’d been transported to another time, another place, another reality. Massive tapestries hung from the walls and ceiling, depicting the gods and stars and goddesses and stories and songs and tales, all of old. There were pillars in here, albeit all were of a shade different, forged with different kinds of marble, aged. Only a few ponies were here—most had gone and left already. The few who remained chatted amongst themselves.

The pegasus saw all the lights dim. He was left scared, and the others too. He hasn’t a doubt they were confused and scared, because he heard a few of them. Out of the nowhere, darkness moved. It just moved around the space, around the ponies, around him. The black was so great he could not see clearly who disappeared. He just shivered there. He heard the barks of guards . . . And they disappeared.

Nopony was here anymore. That he was certain. Or was he? Was he that sure he was alone? The space felt big still, even in the dark. The gods and goddesses in those tapestries watched and . . . What was that? He looked at it closely.

Softly waves moving started to glow in the darkness, a pure, vivid cerise. They pumped light out like a beating of a heart, brighter then dimmer and again and again. More of them illuminated until they all showed.

It also showed her face.

Her mane was of a deep red, but that was nothing compared to her eyes. Her eyes were a whole new thing. So red . . . so vivid . . . so piercing. He stared at them. He only stared at them. The rest of her figure slowly appeared with help from her mane’s light. It was like she was underwater; all the slightest movements were the most graceful thing. Her mane undulated and swam in the air, her coat a dark shade. The only two things that had colouring appeared to be a hat filled with marigolds on the top of her head, sprawling out into a bouquet. Her hair was softly swaying fire as its sheen reflected the light of the night and the peppered speckles of moondust spilled on her mane like the night and the speckles the stars.

The deep whistle of the world was all that could be heard.

“Are you ready?” Her voice was the same as from his dream; soft, young, whispery.

Silence.

“Ready to . . . what?”

She tilted her head, her hair slowly following their beholder. She looked at him for a while, staring through his windows to his soul, like she knew what he wanted, like she knew who he was, like she knew what he thought, like she knew what he’d done.

She breathed ever-so-quietly. “Ready to die?”

He tilted his head in a manner same as what she did, taking all the time in the world to realize what was happening. He, strangely, felt not afraid. Maybe it was because he had already known who she was. Light had known her for his entire life. Death was the first thing he ever took seriously.

Staring into the eyes, he came closer.

“It’s like I’m safe,” he said. “It’s like I’m not afraid of you.” Her blazing irises kept watch. “For the longest time, I always wanted to know what it would be like to stare at death in the face. To know what was happening. To know if it was that daunting.”

Her face unchanged.

“And now . . . know that you ask me that . . . I feel like I already was ready. Ready to leave. Ready to go . . .”

The world quieted down for a minute. She just nodded.

Death spread her massive wings, taking flight up to the ceiling. From up above, he could discern the tiny engraving he’d seen not before. A pentagram in a circle engraved in the marble. Suddenly, it lit up and rotated, spinning around and slowly levitating down. It had a red halo of magic around it when it came and landed with a thud small and light. She went up though it.

She had gone, and he was left there. “Hey, wait!” He flapped his pair own and followed her. The space was short, but it stretched out so far, and it was still filled to the brim. Vast piles of gold and silver and jewellery lined the walls, their sparkles discernible in the shroud of dark. He saw her red mane flow from a distance, and he followed it.

She stopped.

He dared slip beside her to glance what she looked at. A large safe of aged metal stood there. Waiting. She twisted the knob to the appropriate numbers, and after twenty turns, it unlocked. She shifted to the side, pointing inside. Hidden in the corner, he saw something. A gigantic painting. It appeared to be of a bouquet of many flowers, many colours swirling and splashed on the canvas. It looked so beautiful, the swirls of the night sky so realistic and fluid—being the background.

Light carefully removed it with a struggle and placed it on the floor, taking its first seeps of air from a new age. The oil was still perfect, so vibrant it felt like a window into reality. For a painting depicting flowers, of all things, he was wholly impressed. It hovered off the floor with the same, red glow, beside Death, whilst she went down the hole.

In the dark once more, he saw her study the painting, and for a brief moment, the quiet moved through the air, going through everypony in its curtain.

Light saw a zap. And another. Orbiting sparks appeared from the painting, and Death spread her wings once again, bowing down to it. It was the brightest thing he had ever seen, brighter than the sun, brighter than the sky, brighter than the stars. The earth rumbled, and for a second long he thought he was actually going to die. Then it was dark again.

Death turned back to him. Her mane dimmed a tad, and she moved out of the way, as if welcoming him to come. He struggled to see what had happened to the artwork, even with her light. Slow steps he took, trying to figure out the painting’s shape.

Something moved. He was sure not what it was, but it moved. Clumsily, really, like it just woke up and was dizzy after a very long slumber.

It shaked frantically in its place, swaying.

“Damn . . . Fuck me . . .”

That wasn’t Death’s voice. That wasn’t Auriga’s voice. That wasn’t Lightning’s voice.

“W—who are you?” he breathed.

The mare’s voice was confused, with a light accent. “I . . . I do not know . . . I am not sure I exist at all.”

“Y—you must be somepony,” countered Lightning Glare. “You must exist. You’re here right now. Do you have any idea who you are?”

Her silhouette came into full view, a slender figure. “I . . . I clearly know only where I am. The Grand Temple of Hermes—built years ago by the architects.”

“Wait . . . a few years ago? The temple has been standing here for four hundred years.” He was breathless.

“What did you say? Four hundred years? It is not possible! I . . . I was invited here by the princess a few days ago . . . I remember it. She told me to bring the painting so it could be in display, yes, in here, the grand temple. And then everypony disappeared, and . . .” The silhouette was struck with horror. “S—she came.”

Light looked at Death’s place behind the mare to find her gone.

“Is she here? Where is the devil? Is she gone? I need know!”

“Who is she?” queried he with caution.

She whispered, “Death!”

He pointed behind her. “Well, s—she was here a while ago, right there.”

The shadow grabbed him, and he catched a slight glimpse of her face. It was of distress. “We need leave, now. It is not safe here! Come, let us go!” She ushered him to the entrance. The mare slammed on the door and cursed when found locked. “Damn! It is locked!”

“I—I’m getting freaked out. W—what’s going on?”

“I will explain later. We need leave only, and fast!” the mare whispered. She ran off in a jiffy, frantic yet careful.

Lightning just pressed his back on a pillar, his heart skipping a beat. In the veil of night, the paintings and statues and objects many were not seen, but they haunted him—they’ve haunted this place for as long as they’ve been here. They were all alive, but only one could speak.

In the inky vastness, he saw light pour in. The door’s mesh covered window revealed a corridor. The exit sign glowed a deathly green above its lofty place above. He had not noticed it before; it was probably an emergency exit.

“Ah!” He swore his heart exploded from shock when the mare snatched him from his place to run with her.

“Be quiet! She still may be here,” the mare urged. She hauled him all the way to the exit.

The alarms sounded when she smashed the weight of her body on the threshold, a crude way of opening. The compact corridor they went through turned left sharply, barely illuminated. He felt like he was being swallowed through a narrow esophagus of a large beast, drowned in lightlessnes. Deeper and deeper and deeper they went, escaping.

The fields far and wide greeted them, gently embracing by tingling their hooves. The mare looked absolutely exhausted, gestures of pain taking over her body. She breathed heavily and slowly, the sounds going unnoticed.

“Hey, are you alright?” He had no idea who she was, obviously. The mare answered not, still taking her time and breaths. Her mane was a mint green, eyes a light red, coat of beige. She felt small, for she had crouched down. It was if she was a child, young and tired.

“I have not an idea,” she answered suddenly.

“Well,” he started, interrupted by her sigh, “we should, erm, just go. Or maybe I should go and you go and we’ll both go on our ways.” He saw her not listening, merely establishing a glimpse of the structure behind her. She tossed away a wisp of her hair.

“When had they put these lights?”

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe a few years back? Ten years?”

“But I that is not possible! The temple had been made only a years few back! How could they have put said lights if the foundations haven’t even been built?”

Now he was confused. “What? Like I said, the temple had been made four hundred years ago.”

“No! What of you, from the future?”

He would’ve answered, but she looked at something outside his line of sight. He turned to see what it was, and he wished they would have just continued their squabble.

Those eyes, once more, had attracted all of his attention. Her wings stretch upwards, so big that all he could see was the eclipse of the moon. She was a dark figure in the sea of lighter swirls of darkness, the only colour her eyes. He heard her whimper beside him, and for once, he heard the sound of somepony who seemed more afraid of him, more afraid than anyone.

“R—run.”

Those wings flapped downwards, lifting her up. She lingered in the air for a few more seconds before a black aura blasted toward their direction. Lightning swung to the side, the blast missing him. He looked behind him to see she was gone, black scorch marks on the ground.

Light shot back his head to Death, only to feel a burning sensation. He couldn’t even scream.

★★★★★★★★★

Twilight pointed. “In here.”

The three princesses filed in the room silently. The black and coloured junk on the wall was messier than before, but the meaningful was as clear as day.

“Mother of me . . .” Celestia dared near it, as if she couldn’t rely what she was seeing.

“Twilight, do you know what it means?” princess Celestia asked.

“If you look at the four different sides of the pentagram, you would see that the ratios of lengths between them is one is to one point six one eight. It instantly reminded me of the golden ratio, and that’s exactly what it is. But other than that, I don’t know, princess. I’ve been wondering that ever since I found it.” She took a moment. “That’s why I brought you here.”

“Unfortunately, I know not of this,” answered Luna, disappointment in her tone.

They all turned their curious heads to eyeball it. The tar dripped on the wall, creating what looked to be a mere, poor fake of what it had been. Twilight spoke, “What should we do know?”

Princess Luna headed the door. “I need continue my duties, as always. I will be back as quickly as I can.” Without another word, the night’s harbinger passed through the doorway, leaving the two in a fog.

“Come, dear Twilight. I need to talk to you in private.” With that, the princess and she walked an ephemeral. The castle felt odd with royal guards lining the corridors; Twilight had never seen security this tight before. But the seemingly impregnable army before the library doors had her flummoxed. All gave a slight bow when they entered.

The library looked to be raided. Books were littered everywhere, writings of red marker on the crystalline pillars, torn and now blemished scrolls of parchment. It was like a crime scene. The princess gave her a gloomy smile. “We think your friend Lightning Glare had been here whilst we talked in the castle, Twilight. Just don’t touch anything; we may prove useful in another time.”

Twilight saw some of her favourite books on the floor, ruined. She picked one up. Peace & War. One of my favourites. She would’ve turned into a madmare at the sight of her book destroy, but that was not a concern. “What . . . happened to him?”

“Well, Twilight, we’ll try our best, an—”

“No. That’s not what I meant, princess. I mean . . . what did happen to Light?”

She saw not her face, but Twilight could feel the sympathy in it. “It’s okay, Twilight. Like I said, we’ll try our best.”

The purple mare turned. “Try your best at what?”

Celestia’s expression developed to become sullen. There was a beauty in her eyes, filled with sadness, but the princess tried to hide it. “Frankly, Twilight, this is why we’re here. You know your friend Lightning is gone, and I guess you want to find him, no?” The conjecture threw her off.

“I mean . . . you are right, princess. I do want to find him.”

She nodded. “So here’s what I’m going to say: you are to remain here and not participate in anything related to this unless asked. You will not speak with this to your friends or family or anyone. Do you understand, Twilight?”

By some means, Twilight wanted to say no—that there must be some other way. But she knew Celestia was right. She slowly nodded acquiescently her head in consent. The princess’ expression, sudden as the rise of the sun, softened. “I’m really sorry, Twilight. I really am. It must be hard for you, especially in a fashion like this. Remember that we will try our very best to find out what happened to him. And—”

A sonorous slam of doors pierced the still air. Princess Luna had overt discomfort on her expression. And concern too, it looked. She was breathing deeply. “It is worse than I thought.”

“Why? What is the matter, Luna?”

“The dream realm . . . it . . . it is broken. Somepony teared through its indestructible veil, and they have not an intention to be found.”

“But how? Isn’t the dream realm only accessible through you?” said Twilight, bemused wholly.

“No, it looks like. Now it seems as if they managed it hastily and enfeebled it. Drastically.” She looked straight at her sister. “The dream realm may forever be broken if it receives much damage.”

“Death,” Celestia uttered, “it can only be her. It has to be.”

“What did you see, Luna?” Twilight came closer.

“It appears as if a certain dream has been infiltrated. The entirety of all of the dreams have been disturbed too; it is utter chaos, I say, chaos! I tried to enter said dream, but I couldn’t. It had been blocked off.”

The solar alicorn was muttering to herself, a hoof on her chin, whilst Luna eyed her with scared eyes. “Check it out, Luna. Make sure she doesn’t disturb the rest. She can escape to the real world once more if we’re not careful.”

“Wait! Can I join?” Twilight begged.

“No, Twilight. That is not an option,” Celestia pressed.

“But you wanted me to know what happened to him, right? If he’s even there? This is the perfect opportunity—the perfect chance to at least know! I know it’s dangerous, but I really need to know what happened, princess. Think about it—Death wouldn’t do this for no reason—nopony would” She put a hoof on her closed eyes. “I need to know what happened to my Light . . . my light.”

The three were phantom-quiet. No one said a word, mindlessly taking note of their surroundings instead of each other. She broke the silence. “Twilight, you are right. You have the right to know what happened to him and in a way you want to. But please stay safe. Promise me that.” The one who rose the sun, who rose the light of the world telling her this gave her a sense of freedom. Twilight nodded solemnly.

“I will, princess. You can count on me.”

The lunar alicorn stepped to the centre of the two, and her horn lighted. The darkness swallowed everything around them, and for a brief moment, Twilight saw a sad smile of her teacher, and she got swallowed, too. Eventually, she would be well into the realm of dreams and nightmares.

Third

Third

The fireflies were moving stars. Like children they frolicked, but softly as well, seeming gentle and welcome for anypony’s touch. The bunch moved to be embraced by the trees, bedazzling many outlines of trunks and branches. All leaves everywhere looked sable. Everything he saw was, really.

Light tossed away the rubble on his hair and fixed his person. He looked everywhere to find a way in the satin darkness, shiny and black. The pegasus was unhurt, but that was a concern not. The explosion had done not a thing, it seemed, and he breathed to himself many times before he trudged into an even deeper forest.

Every slightest movement and pindrop-esque tap made the little pony in his head jump and hit the ceiling of his skull, furthering him into insanity. There were no crickets or owls or any living being save the fireflies and him, and he secretly wished against himself that there were more animals, notwithstanding their savageness and beastly nature. He wanted not to be alone.

But I amn’t. I have the fireflies. They’re my companions. You’ll be fine, Light, you’ll be fine.

He heard a restful streaming of water. And even when clear not, with the help of some fireflies, the touch of the moon, and a stroke of luck, he saw the spring of water. The rocks and moss wrapped around it perfectly, the moving of the water a pleasant sight to the eyes. His rump met the velvety earth. The world around him was without sound, noise, chaos, and with the stream of the water, he felt a little safer. Light practically melted into nature’s carpet.

He smiled at the sight of it. In front of him was a firefly. It looked smaller than the rest and flitted around more calmly too. He held out a balmy hoof, expecting it to fly away. To his surprise, it landed on it with a fast swoop. He imagined it to be smiling happily. Light liked to think of it like that.

“Hey there,” he cooed to it, and in response the little bug brightened. He laughed, hushed, taking his time to appreciate the small thing. The pegasus grew silent then, and the bug and he stared at each other’s gazes, its wings buzzing inquisitively. How wonderful it was, this bug, this little creature, this innocent, little creature.

It spread its wings outward and flew upwards, leaving him be.

He stood, watching the light speck dissipate into the dark. Light didn’t want it to go, no, he wanted it to stay here, just staring into its perfect gaze, its light, its warmth, its mere presence. The pegasus extended his wings, ready for flight, but never taking off. He just stayed there, helpless. The light of it died out, washed away.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, but he knew it would not come back.

There was a ruffle behind him. He turned around to see the mare, the very same mare he mysteriously met. Her eyes appeared to be red, as if she cried, and she was still. She looked him right in the soul. Her mane was thrown to her back, and she was littered with dirt and filth, a twig stuck in her hair. Her head twisted a slight tad, her features softening the slightest. She turned and left.

“Wait!” he called out, reaching for her. He was incredulous. The mare listened not, never turning back. “Come back!”

He stuck out his wings, flapping them and going after her. The lofty canopy of the rainforest was still thick of vine and twigs, and he tried maneuver around them as quickly as he can. A shadow below he saw, similar to the mare’s outline. This was his chance. A moment he chanced upon. He swooped down, but before he could tackle her, she tripped. The mare tumbled, rolling down a small depression, a bedlam, crashing down into a bed of soil and rocks.

Light landed at the scene, terrified. “I—I’m sorry! O—oh look at you! I—I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll make you feel better. Don’t worry.” The pegasus shot off, looking for a particular herb. He returned to the stream where he swore he saw several; it was purple and tall. Light plucked the lengthy leaves and wrapped them around her body, also taking this time to gently clean her. She had more bruises than he thought, and when he was done her body had been wrapped hoof to head.

He placed the mare by a trunk of a tree, a comfortable looking niche. Light put a bunch of leaves under her head to act as a pillow, a cushion. He breathed. Light looked at her once more before starting a bonfire. It was hard not to make one, in fact: a circle of rocks, twigs, dry leaves, wood as fuel, and a bow drill to start fire. Not long after, Light had a flame, and he quickly tossed the stick to the side. And after that he sat. He allowed himself the luxury of facing the mare on the other side of the fire.

Light could see her sleeping through the burning of flames, of which smelled badly. He minded not, though, because that truly didn’t matter to him. That mare. That mare had appeared out of nowhere. It was like she was from the past: her speech, her memories, everything. He wondered what she would say when she woke up, what would she have done—who she truly is.

“It’s going to be alright,” Light croaked, sure not if it was to him or the mare. “It’s going to be.”

He wondered about Death, about Auriga, about Twilight. He wondered where Auriga was now, and if he would ever see him again. He wondered what Twilight was doing, what she and her group of eccentric friends are doing. And he wondered what Death had in store for him, if she even had a plan for him at all, or if she would just let him die so that nopony ever has to know what truly happened that day.

This little piece of world—with the mare fast asleep and fireflies gone—felt like his own. Like this was all for him to enjoy, take in. And that . . . that was kind of nice . . . He smiled. Light saw a flower beside him; it was blue. Blue. Blue was rare in nature, he knew—only a few of all animals known made an actual blue pigment. He was bored, so he took a hold of it. He twirled it around, here and there, taking notice of the fragile edges.

A light crackle of the fire soothed him, and he decided to start on the flower with a tiny bite. Delicious. Nibble by nibble, little by little, in the shroud of the fire’s warmth, he wondered not what would happen now, but wondered what was happening at this exact moment, right here, for that was the only thing that mattered to him at the moment.

Her closed eyelids flinched, and they opened. They were lazy and tired, but nonetheless tried to concentrate. The mare gave a sidelong glance of her wounds, finding them cleaned and wrapped up. She found him, then she went back to her tender bruises and cuts. Her breathing merged wonderfully with the crackle of fire, and all other things were put in the background at the moment.

She seemed to refuse of something, because she shook her head in clear regret. “You healed me,” said she, lifting slightly the limbs with her wounds.

Lightning Glare nodded. “Yes, I did.”

The mare avoided the sight of him, it seemed, and her ears were flat, her mouth a straight line. She then frowned to herself. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why had you healed me?”

“I . . . just wanted to help, that’s all. I couldn’t leave you out there.”

“But you could have.”

“I guess I could have, yeah.”

“But you did it not.”

The pegasus made a motion with his head. “Like I said: I wanted to help.”

The mare looked at something else, slowly nodding to herself and whispering things that drowned in the fire’s noise. Tired yet concerned was what he perceived of her expression, and maybe she felt like she hasn’t a clue what to feel. He understood that feeling.

“What . . . what’s your name?” Lightning Glare brought up, having decided that he needed it.

Her malaise cheeks pressed in discomfort. The mare’s head turned away a tad. “Already had I told you. I know not of it.”

“If you don’t know your name . . . then how can you remember the princess inviting you to the temple? And the painting you mentioned? How can you remember that and not your own name?”

The mare was struck with a lightning of terror. She faltered inarticulately. “I—I . . . argh! That does not matter, damn you. You need not know of it!” she roared, struggling in her bonds. She spun and rolled, attempting to wiggle out. Light came and pushed her back to her niche when she went what he felt was too far.

He raised his hooves in frank acceptance. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? But you need to stay here; I can’t let you go just yet.”

“Why not?!”

“Look at yourself; you’re injured. Please, I won’t ask of your name again if you don’t want to; I won’t. Just stay here and be safe.”

The mare gave him a big frown. She huffed at that and nickered indignantly after a short, slight struggle. She slumped on the trunk in trounce. He gave her an empathetic smile before settling back down in his spot. She pouted at the sight of his face. “This is not over, hear me? Mark my words!”

The pegasus listened not: he seemed to be, but not really; he was on something else. They had a staring contest for a few minutes, no clear winner in sight. Flaura gave him a death stare, getting more and more intense until he knew she would break. Steam boiled from her ears. She sighed, curdling in a ball to the ground. She stared off into a rock, blank eyes digging deep into its features, unmoving, trance like. Light stood, glancing at her once more, then trekking out into the thick.

A while it had lasted, but he finally found the stream. He was getting thirsty, so he came right down to drink from it. Pure as water can be, he noted. Light sat his rump down on the same spot once more, and he took a quiet moment for himself. The forest had silhouettes of trees that shot out hauntingly, albeit under the light they were not so bad. Beautiful, even. The reflection of the water shined white in a black canvas, several stones underneath poking out to feel the cool, draughty air. In the reflection, he saw himself. That stallion.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled sadly. “I’m . . .”

★★★★★★★★★

Orbs flew upwards around her, but some of them were spiraling out of control.

There was a saying that a storm’s centre was of peace, whilst the edges spun in great speeds, but this storm seemed the opposite. The large twirl spiraled many orbs downwards, sucking them into a large tear in the fabric of the realm. They came shooting out another opening, and in they went and repeated. The backdrop was a lake of shades of munsel and mauve and midnight blue, twisting and mingling with one another to birth millions of stars.

An orb flew up near Twilight’s face; Rainbow Dash’s dream. Everything seemed normal in the standards of the realm; she was in a race with a flying pizza slice, deftly winning. She had a smirk of a champion. Through the orb had cracks on it, and its colour was a washed out version of what it should be; black and white.

“Where do we go, princess?”

Luna looked struggled herself. “Frankly? I do not know. Death masked her way too well. Though I feel a few magical presences of conscious ponies in a few. We need look through them.”

Twilight’s gaze returned to the thousands en mass.

Princess Luna walked close to one. “We can only start at those, Twilight Sparkle. It’s either they’re lucid dreaming or possibly Lightning himself. Best we hurry, lest things go the way we do not want to.” The young alicorn gave a nod of understanding, and the princess noted her before her horn glowed a pale blue. She and Luna stepped into a dream, the world engulfing them, swallowing them, eating them in a void stomach.

Brown, howling fog threatened to blast them with irritating particulates. The wind was thick with them, and for a moment, Twilight Sparkle felt like she was standing in the middle of the Frozen North and its winds of their own, rolling around her in great speeds. “Where are we?”

Luna seemed not to hear. She was only looking at another direction. Twilight decided a glance at the sight. A shadow, dark and unmoving.

“Come with me.” The princess formed a magical shield, motioning to Twilight. They both slowly neared the figure, its mane flapping with the wind. The wind howled a deep growl, a snarl to their ears.

When they approached it close enough, it turned a tad. Luna and Twilight stopped on their tracks, and the figure seemed to stop too. Its silhouette pierced them with their gaze. It turned around completely. It was Starlight Glimmer.

★★★★★★★★★

Light twitched his right wing, up and down slightly, and he was bored. The mare said not a word in a long while, but she was awake and alert of the atmosphere of the forest. She seemed upset . . . and conflicted. It’s like she wanted to be mad but had more important things to think about. A drizzle light and slow showered them with mist, albeit the canopies blocked most, and they wouldn’t give a care anyway if it hit them. A few times had she put her head up, as if wanting to say something, but she never said anything, and put it back down.

The mare had her forelegs crossed, her eyes red. Light beared the sight of it no longer. He needed to talk. “So . . . anything . . . you want to talk about?”

Her lips frowned and she tossed her head to the fertile soil. “I do not understand. I merely do not understand.”

He scooched a little closer. “Understand what?”

“Of many things. One is our different points of view. They match up not. You say the grand temple was made four hundred years ago, but I say it is of recent. It’s like you are from the future. It maketh no sense at all.” She shook her head in frustration. “Do you play me?”

“I promise you I’m not. We’ll . . . we’ll try to figure it out.” He ruffled his feathers. “What exactly were the last things you remembered?”

Much did she relent, and it took her awhile for a response. “More than princess Celestia inviting me to the temple? Nothing much. I had a short sojourn in her palace. And before that? I painted and painted and painted and all I ever did was paint. And that’s that.”

“Ah.” He silently question her statement of him being from the future. And yes, the fact that she appeared just when a painting disappeared . . . what was that about? Was she . . . No, no, that’s insane. Why would she be turned into a painting? It must be some coincidence. It must. “So . . . what else? That’s all?”

She nickered and waved what little she could with a hoof. “Are you trying to know of my past?” Her eyelids narrowed.

“Well, frankly, uh . . . some part of me admits that. But I do respect your privacy and all, so . . .”

“Aha! You have confessed!” The mare’s legs buckled in victory. “You admit! You admit of it! What have you to say know?” She grinned evilly.

“Um . . . sorry? I guess that’s the best I can manage. Look, I really am sorry, okay?”

Her eyes turned shallow instantly. She grumbled and slouched back to her little niche.

★★★★★★★★★

“Starlight! What’re you doing here?” She does not answer, her expression more stoic than what she’d seen. The unicorn gaped at her for moments few, glancing to the other every once in a while. Her lips revealed nothing, but her eyes were wide and unmoving.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to just . . . check on you and all,” lied Twilight. She noticed her demeanour. “Um . . . is there anything wrong, Starlight?” Twilight tried to shoot out a hoof, but retracted it.

The unicorn chanced a glance on her before turning away to gaze at the brown hills and dead trees. Twilight unsuredly turned to princess Luna, silently wishing her help. She only gave a single, solemn nod, though, motioning to Starlight Glimmer.

Twilight patted the unicorn’s back. “Starlight, I need to know what’s wrong. Would you please tell me?”

“T—they arrived, and chased me. And I am here, in this place,” quavered Starlight, repeatedly. “Again.”

“Who are they?”

“You don’t wanna know,” she whined, shaking her head.

Luna and Twilight shared a concerning glance. “We are unsure if we want know, but we need to. Perchance may you tell us of what you saw, Starlight Glimmer?”

Starlight pouted slightly. “They were . . . they were these black things. They don’t have a definite form or shape; they were gas in the air. They make you afraid, like you want to run away from them. I tried to fight them off, and I was able to stall them for some time, but they seemed . . . indestructible.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “Death and her minions,” she whispered, too quiet for Starlight to hear. “Twilight Sparkle, we need to leave at once! She may be hiding around; lurking.” Princess Luna materialized a blue portal, appearing quickly. Its waves swirled around playfully, peacefully.

“Twilight, what’s going on?” Starlight questioned, pointing at the portal. “Why are you two suddenly leaving like that?”

“It’s complicated. I’ll explain it to you when we come back home. I—” The portal disappeared, exploding into dissipating ripples. All turned and saw. They were coming. Gaseous beasts cloaked and floated, skimming through the dusty atmosphere, approaching them fast.

Starlight already left and screamed, dissipating into the horizon. Luna spread her wings, lifting herself to meet their eye level. Twilight heard the blasts of magic go off above her head, and she knew she hadn’t much time, so she took off, floating right beside Luna. “Twilight, go find Starlight! Keep her safe!” the princess commanded. Twilight needn’t another second. She soared and soared, battling the sand moving opposite her direction, irritating her eyes and wings.

In the distance was Starlight. She swooped down. “Starlight! Are you alright?”

She whimpered. “Yeah, I think so. Where’s princess Luna?”

Eruptions sounded behind them, approaching them fast. “She’s holding them off for now.”

Twilight felt a thud beside her, princess Luna landing. “We need to go. That includes you, Starlight Glimmer. It is not safe for any of us here.” And with that, a portal materialized in front of them. They could hear them coming closer, and before any of them could, they entered the portal.

★★★★★★★★★

“When I leave my bonds, I shall return you to your ancestors. When I leave my bonds, I shall chase you till the end of the world. When I leave my bonds, I will slam you down the earth so hard it will cause earthquakes. When I leave my bonds, you ought wish you died before you met me. When I leave my bonds, I will eat you for supper like a flower.”

This had been going on for a while.

Lightning Glare, abashed, had retired from his spot to hide behind a tree. He tried to block out the words she had said, the words she was saying now. They were cuts to the heart, and there seemed no end to it. But I shan’t let her know! She’ll get tired of herself eventually, right?

And he was right. Silence quickly replaced her complaints and moans. He was relieved. Air shot right through him, causing him to shiver. Light decided to return to the fire to get some heat. He stood and went his way. She was gone.

She wasn’t there on her spot. Her leaves were peppered with blood. They looked worn, like they had been tugged on for hours on end, on the ground. Oh no. Light grabbed a stick from the bonfire, the flame tossing his terrified silhouette for the forest to watch. Waste any time he did not, and he was gone before he knew of it.

He would’ve called for her name, but alas, he knew know of it. “Hey, where are you!?” Only the movement of the leaves seemed to respond, and they were meaningless. Light furthered deeper in the forest, never looking back. It was darker than it had been before, and all seemed lost.

He heard the sound of pain. Her voice. Guided by the torch’s light in his hoof he had taken, Lightning Glare flew to the spot where she lay. Some of her wounds looked better from the looks of it. Others fared not well. She recoiled. “Don’t touch me!” she yelped. The mare tried to stand, albeit she could only fall whence she came. Finally, she fell with a finality so strong it seemed she would never stand again.

“Oh, goodness, are you alright?”

“Yes, I look completely alright.” she snidely remarked. The mare grunted in pain. Light approached her, reaching out a hoof, but she shooed him away. “Let me go, please! Can’t you leave me be?!” She attended to her own wounds, trying best to avoid him.

Lightning’s hoof retracted and extended and retracted again and again, unsure what to do, stuck in an endless cycle. He struggled in both his words and mind; the two argued between what to do, and even they don’t know what they want. His head decided to shoot away to another direction.

From his eye’s corner, he could see her give a sidelong glare at him, full of confusion, full of regret, full of ire. “What are you waiting for?”

Light felt the kettle that was his insides boil. It boiled. It boiled hard, He had been holding this heat for far too long. N—no! Y—You can’t do that! he told, just keep it in! “I’ve been trying to help YOU!” The world froze in cold at that. Lightning Glare inhaled. Then exhaled. He closed his eyes. He wanted to cry. But he told himself not to. Not now. Not now. It’s not the right time.

“All this time, I just tried to help you. I just wanted to . . . help you. This may seem odd to you, but I don’t want to see you hurt; I don’t want to see anypony hurt. I would let you berate me for the rest of my life, until the end of time, just for me to see that you’re okay. I just want to see you okay. I just want to see you here, standing in front of me. I don’t know who you are, and you don’t know who I am, but that does not matter. You’re the only being in here that I can be with at the moment; there’s absolutely nopony else but us. So I need to see . . . I need to . . .”

He sighed. This was too much. “I’m . . . sorry if this has to be about me. I don’t know why it always has to involve me . . . oh, who am I to kid? What am I doing?” He shook his head. “What . . . am I doing . . . ?”

You should not have done that, you know. You twat.

Her expression was unreadable, eyeing every fiber of his being. The mare’s lips seperated a little. She circled around the pegasus, an emotion discernible in her irises. She sat down in front of him slowly, extending her blood-stained limbs.

He felt his breath cut short. “I—I . . . r—really?” She silently nodded, looking straight at him. He saw a twinkle in her eyes. He swore he felt a twinkle in his eyes too, like a firefly had spawned and lit up a void. He told her to wait there, for he need get the leaves. And when he came back, he was delighted to see she was still there, curious at the sight of him.

Light wrapped her once again tender wounds, loosening it for the sake of her comfort. When he finished, the mare headed back to the little camp, and he followed her. They sat at their previous places, and the mare eased at hers.

The pegasus ran a hoof through his matted mane, cradling his forelegs. Even with the coziness of the fire, he was still a little cold from the forest, and he shivered. Light waited there, unsure of what it was he was waiting for. It teased him; he knew not if it would come even, and that made it worse. Or maybe his entire world turned upside-down in an instant, from the moment Auriga brought him home and told him of Death.

“Flaura,” told the mare. He looked up to meet her gaze through the mingling flames. Light’s eyes deepened. “My name is Flaura Rosa.”

He gasped softly.

“Light.” He tilted his head. “Lightning Dawn Glare.”

★★★★★★★★★

Celestia planted her hooves on the marble, feeling the gelid stone and its jagged depressions. It lustered still, though, reflecting the gold and bronze pillars, their peaks not seen. From behind her, she could hear the tumult of a crowd: guards, onlookers, media. The princess would deal with them later, especially the media. Too much was happening now.

“Your majesty, we have assessed the area. There appears to be no trace of any kind of weapon used. We have yet to do a headcount,” said the royal guard commander beside her.

“Good. Keep an eye on the crowd outside, commander. I want the highest level of security set up, lest catastrophic things may occur. No one leaves and enters. How are the throngs out there?”

“Chaotic, as we expected. We’ll try our best to tend to them. Also, there are reports from the outside of an alarm going off.”

“Look into it later, commander—for now with the crowds.” With that told, the commander bowed before meeting with his men by the entrance. She saw him pass the threshold, the massive doors slamming shut.

A pin dropping to the floor could be heard in here. All eyes were on her, and why wouldn’t they be? The leader of a nation had suddenly came, amidst all this confusion, in security this tight.

She coughed dramatically. “My little ponies, what happened in here?”

“All the lights went out, princess,” one spoke near to her, loud enough for everybody to hear, petrified. “And we screamed. We tried to get out, but all the entrances were locked. Then, one by one, the hollers around us started to stop, until there was no sound. I blacked out, and woke once more, on the floor.” The gathered agreed amongst themselves, nodding and remarking.

“I see. Anything else?”

“I’m afraid not . . . That’s all I can remember?”

“Did you see anypony?”

“No, princess.”

Celestia observed the room. It looked exactly the same as before. It was too perfect. All the tapestries and art were untouched. There was no trace of anyone interfering with anything. The only trace was the aforementioned alarm of the emergency exit. Her eyes meandered until it stared high into the pentagram, and she wondered what else it could be hiding.

★★★★★★★★★

“I understand not why Death brought you,” commented she. “Why had she taken you?”

“Maybe it’s because she didn’t want anyone to know about her? She had been looking for me too, and I’m pretty sure I needn’t know of her existence.”

“Eh, that maketh no sense. She would have left you anyway, unless you have any concrete proof. I know she knows nopony would believe in you if you were to holler about her down an alley. Do you have any concrete proof of her?”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Exactly. So why need she bring you? For my case I understand, albeit for you? Unlikely.”

“So what of it?”

“I haven’t a clue . . .”—she rubbed her leg—“and I feel guilty for dragging you to this mess.” She frowned, scared of looking at him.

“No! You needn’t feel like that. You did the best you could at the situation, and you did try to help me escape with you. Remember that, you did help me escape, even if you didn’t know who I was. You didn't even know my name! And yet you still lead me the way.”

She hesitated.

“We’ll get out of this mess, that I promise you. We just need to solve the puzzle.”

Flaura gave him a glance, silent. She frowned once again, feeling her velvety coat with her hoof. “So what of this puzzle, then? Where do we start?”

“Stop right there. Do you know of any other reason she may have brought you? Forget that, let me ask you this: what were your actions before you came into contact with her?”

He smacked his lips, tapping his hoof to the ground. Light said nothing, only squeezing his legs. The pegasus reclined back to the trunk of a tree, his wings slightly flailing around in discomfort.

“Is anything the matter?”

“I . . .” A breath escaped his nostrils, and the pegasus bit the corner of his lip. He looked lost, and his eyes darted around, trying to find some answer to this. “No.”

“Liar,” she deadpanned, pointing at him. “You’re bad at it, lying.” She crossed her forelegs. “What is the matter, Lightning Glare? You need tell me.”

“I . . . look. About the whole events precursing the temple is . . . probably the reason why Death has an interest with me, but I amn’t sure of it.” She encouraged him with a move of her head. “I had a friend who died around a week ago, and he . . . appeared as a ghost. I saw her, Death. She took him away. And I had a nightmare of pentagrams and falling and instructions to go to the temple . . . and . . .”

“She directed you to the temple?” hypothesised she. He nodded.

“I assumed she wrote something on my wall when I woke. It was a pentagram once more. I . . . it was a reminder, I knew immediately. She was taunting me by bringing it back right after I wake up, to let this nightmare continue on . . . I went to the temple, thinking I could find Auriga, and Death appeared, took a painting, you appearing right after. And the rest . . . you know how the story goes.”

Flaura looked quite saddened halfway through his continuation. She coughed. “Alright. So it seemeth we cannot make anything out of this,” said she after a long silence. “I cannot think of a reason why she needeth you.”

“Well, in any case, I hope we find out.” he said.

“And this Auriga fellow is why you followed her commands?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“I apologise for the bluntness, but utterly inane that seemeth be, is it not?”

He chuckled at that. “I hadn’t known what was with me at the time. I guess the emotions in me took over and went on its way,” he intoned.

She nodded in understanding. “I see. Your emotions sent you here, in this good situation,” she snided, rolling her eyes. Flaura’s expression darkened. “My sorries for this, but you do realise you may return home never, no?”

He froze. Twilight, her friends, his home: he left them. Light felt it on his coat. It crawled on his back once more, threatening to bite him and infect his body with the shame he had had. The pegasus quivered, and it seemed she noticed.

“Something the matter?”

Light blinked. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. I just left my friends and home and . . .”—he massaged his forehead—“I just realized what I had done, you know? I regret that.”

“It’ll be alright. You yourself said it: we’ll get out of this mess. And I promise you to the goddess we’ll get out of this game she’s making us play. I will bet my ass to the gods up there if we do not.”

He couldn’t help himself but to giggle a bit. It does not miss her eye, for she did a half smirk and half scoff. “You have a life still. I like that, and I honestly prefer for you to come back and enjoy it.” She

“Thanks,” he told, “and I really hope you return back to yours too.”

Fourth

Fourth

Flaura Rosa’s legs trembled a tad, and Light caught her when she fell. She had requested to try walk, if she could even, and he’d accepted it. They couldn’t stay here forever, after all. Thankfully, her wounds seemed to be looking well. Not fully healed yet, no, but alright in the time meaning. They should heal in a few day’s time, he thought, and she need keep care in that time. He placed her back up in a standing position, guiding her as if she was a filly a few years old, wanting to stroll.

He was reminded of that when he saw her try, a foal trying to walk for the first time. It wasn’t an easy experience per se, but once one achieved it, they will never forget it. Seeing Flaura taking her steps made him want to help, but he knew that she would rather not.

Flaura patted a clearing, applying more pressure and bringing her body forward. She winced slightly but never stopped. The earth pony brought out her other hoof and did the same thing as her previous one, this time not expressing anything. It looked to be a meticulous process, walking. But he knew she could do it.

What turned into a slow crawl turned into a moderately normal walk, a little hop once in a while. She smirked at him. “See? I can do it. What do you think of me, a babe? I needn’t your help. I’m more of a stallion that you are.”

He silently snorted at her little jest. “You’ve had your jape. Understand that I was merely worried you would fall again. You’re wounds are not yet fully healed, you know.” She rolled her eyes at that.

“Give not that remark to me, Lightning Glare. I know what I’m doing.” Light nodded, not wanting to argue to her. She snorted.

Whilst she tried to maintain her balance, he sighted a tunnel in this unusually thick forest. It looked to be black but unusually clear, like someone wanted them to go down there. “Now that you can walk, do you want to find a way out of here?”

Flaura nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please. I want nothing more than to leave, and I’d sooner leave now than later.”

“Alright, then.” He motioned to her legs. “But are you sure you can walk properly? We possibly have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Oh, please. I jog two hours a day. And I barely haven’t breaks of any kind, mind you. Manage this I can, and I shall prove that to you.”

“Well, alright, then. If that’s what you want.” He pointed to a direction. “It looks to be clear there. We’ll head down and see what we can find. If there’s nothing, we’ll come back and start looking the other way.” She blinked in response.

The two plodded the small pathway, walls of black shrubbery seemingly wanting to meet. They needed walk in a single-file line at a point, Flaura taking lead. He checked behind him to see if they had anyone following them. No one. A breeze of air was cold around them.

Her walk seemed to be better, and she seemed have no difficulty in walking now.

Flaura seemed to freeze in place when she chanced upon something on a tree. He moved beside her to see what it was. It was written in black, and it was so dark that even the blackness they were in could do no justice to it. The liquid it was written in oozed, dripping down the bark. Keep going forward, and do not look back.

“Who in the hell . . . ?”

“It’s her,” Light breathlessly declared, no hesitation in his voice. “The writing, it’s similar to Death’s one that I found on my wall. It has to be hers.” She was quiet, gaping at the thing. “What do we do?”

“We go forward,” she said confidently. “If it leadeth us to our deaths, then perhaps it really was all pointless.” Flaura eyed him. “Take not this the wrong way, but I’d go in there and see what is in there for myself.”

He hesitated. “Well . . . if you say so. Let’s just . . . get this over with, I guess.” She scrutinized him through a gaze before she turned away, starting her trek. He gulped, right behind her tail.

★★★★★★★★★

The sight of chaos made her feel a little better.

Starlight Glimmer looked like her lungs broke and was trying desperately to breathe, whilst Luna cycled through dreams, checking them one by one, throwing them away afterwards, having a state similar to Starlight’s.

The princess grunted. “Where art thou?!” Luna demanded to an orb she held. She threw it away to the void.

“Twilight, I’m going to ask this again: what the heck is going on?” Starlight eyed her, suspecting. Twilight nervously chuckled.

“We’re in an important mission,” Luna offered before Twilight could say anything, dropping her act with the orbs. Twilight meekly nodded in feign understanding. “I . . . was taking Twilight around to show her how to deal with fixing nightmares.” Well, she wasn’t technically lying.

“Oh, okay. I just got a little worried there. I thought there was something fishy going on.” She smiled. “And princess Luna, what’re you looking for?”

“I am merely looking for a specific dream we need check, lest consequences may happen.”

“Consequences? What consequences?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Luna said. “I just want you to go back home, Starlight Glimmer. I’ll bring you back and you’ll wake. Tell your friends where we are; it may be some while until we come back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, princess.”

“Now begone.” Luna shot a beam of magic at her, and she disappeared.

“Princess, is there any chance the shadows will show up on any other dream and risk of coming into the real world?”

“If they appear, yes. But the more important question is if they will. I’ve looked over a bunch of dreams and none of them are there . . . She is probably only targeting us.” Luna pulled Twilight closer, checking around her. “Have you ever wondered why I left you here?”

“No. Why?”

“Because of your indomitable determination. You want to find Lightning Glare, no? I’m sure you’re determination will be powerful enough to find him; I just know it. It’s not easy to do this alone, but with you on my side, we can find him and maybe her.”

The dreams abruptly stopped moving. They pinned in place, and suddenly they all dispersed into nothingness as the glow of the stars and galaxies dwindled, leaving them confused. The last star seemed brighter when away from his brothers, when put in a nothingness. Twilight strained to see it as it left them all in the dark. Luna brightened her horn, creating a nimbus azure and bright, and no shadow casted from them.

“What’s happening?”

Luna answered not, keeping sight and inspecting the vastness. They say true silence will drive anypony mad—a silence that can make you hear your own organs, a silence that can deteriorate, a silence that can make you mad. Twilight started to perceive the rushing of blood through her veins and arteries, sounding like a boom, because it was the only thing filling her ears. Her breathing echoed around her head, and she swore she heard moving black things that she knew were not real from the void.

Then light came through. It was weird were it was coming from—a moving thing Her racing blood faltered not, though, for the thing started to fade away but come closer. It came back, the colour red brightness. It was twisting and rolling.

Death was here.

“Run, Twilight! I’ll stall her!” Luna discharged an ungodly amount of magic to her, the explosion so bright that even if she ran away for her life the other direction, everything went white. It took a while to clearly see again. Death was still there when she looked back. She heard the princess fire shoot at the wiht many times, and judging from the continuous fire, it seemed not affect her.

Luna’s attacks could no longer be heard. Everything was silent again, except for her ragged breath and run. She ran and ran. Death landed in front of her, the alicorn stopping.

She waited for Luna to come out and distract her, but she did not come. Twilight wondered how many ponies tried to break free from the iron grip of death. How many did escape? How many will? She thought of of her friends, her dear friends. One day, they’ll be right where she is, in front of Death herself, in the end. She tilted her head curiously at the trembling mare.

Twilight stumbled to her knees. “M—make it quick . . . please.”

Death blasted her. She disappeared into disintegrating smoke, smoldering matter left.

★★★★★★★★★

How long have we been walking? Light asked of himself for the fifth time as he tramped through forest dirt and weeds. His hooves reeked of mud, and he felt lightheaded. Light was surprised Fluara walked with absolutely no exhaustion shown. It was like she didn’t need to rest at all. I guess she really does jog two hours a day. Look at her go.

“Flaura, are you getting tired yet? I don’t know how long we’ve been walking,” he managed. She wheeled around, taking a good look of his pathetic body.

“I think you need ask yourself that.” She stifled a snigger. “You’re getting tired now? Do you want to stop to get some rest or do you want me to carry you all the way?”

“Would you say yes if I requested the latter?” He gave a small and tired smile. She stuck her tongue right out, jiggling her head.

“Come on, you babe. We shall stop once we reach a clearer area, that I promise you.” She nudged him slightly with a knee. “Hurry on.”

He waved her off. “Alright, alright, fine. Let’s go.” The two turned, continuing their trek, deeper and deeper into the luscious black.

The Everfree was a haunting place to be in, even in the day he knew, and especially during the night as well, but it was nothing compared to this forest’s level. Even the moon’s light seemed to weaken, and the stars disappeared all together. He felt scared. But she was here, and Flaura is frankly more than enough for him to say that he’s okay. It’ll be okay.

She reminded him of Auriga a little: the attitude, the outlook of life. No way in Tartarus am I going to tell her. This is all confusing as it is already, he mused, thinking how she would react. She’s stressed, really. And I can’t blame her on that one.

The ruffles of her walk could not be heard. Light saw her lurk in her place, her only movement the rising and falling of her chest, but even that seemed delayed. There it was. A door. Coloured mahogany. Lustrous. Hushed.

Flaura placed a light hoof on the doorknob. Her face was that of concern when she looked back at him, presumably for help. He tensed visibly, silently asking her the same question they had in mind. Flaura blenched her head away slightly. She unlocked the door, opening it.

One moment she was in front of him, and the next she was on the other side of the threshold. Flaura waited for him to go, but he went not—not just yet. He took a step forward. He took a step back. Light felt his breathing quicken. “Come,” she said, her voice a little demanding, “we have to see what is on the other side.”

He took a step forward. He took no step back.

This forest was different, he was sure of it. Many elements were the same, although the colour of the light was bluer. It was just like they were traversing under the sea. “We are where?” she questioned, more to herself than him, he had the feeling. Light focused on the shadows of the leaves around them.

“I don’t know, but it looks like we have to keep walking to find out.” The plan does not need any more discussion, for they trekked out to the light they saw in the distance.

It had been a while long since he’d encountered constellations, and now they were here. Close to all the lot of them were on the sky, shining brighter than any day. This must be the clearest I’ve ever seen them, he thought. Light listed some of their names when he saw them. Cygnus, Lyra, Draco, Vulpecula, Hercules. If you were to go south, then you would see Hydra, Taurus, Gemini, and of course, Orion. It slapped him when he was in full cognizance. Auriga is by Orion. Auriga.

“This forest is scintillating. It teems of life and wonder,” he distracted himself. The mare gave a silent nod. It truly was a beautiful place. Collin. Huh. It was written on the soil, most likely carved from a stone. There it was, written crudely, as if somepony just got here. And it generally faced to his direction too, staring back. Collin . . . The mare nudged Light, tugging him to see. Hunched on the ground be a colt, away.

His fluffy coat waved by wind, right at them. “Hey,” the young one remarked, “stay right where you are.”

They moved not an inch.

The colt stood, Light seeing him properly. He was a youngling, with eyes swarmed with the spirit of inquiry. Short was the colt, shorter than most, but with the way he raised his body made anyone taller take a good look of his purple eyes, an even darker shade of it as his coat, with stripes of black and indigo as his mane. His posture wasn’t swanky, though. Maybe playful was the right word. Light wasn’t sure if the bat pony was actually serious or only playing some game.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Lightning. And this is . . .”

“Flaura. I am Flaura.”

“Lightning. Flaura.” The colt scrunched up his face. His face broke into a wide grin. “Hello and welcome! My name’s Collin, as you would’ve guessed right now,” he said, pointing at his name. “What’re you two doing here?”

“We’re just trying to find our way back home,” Light said.

“Home?” The colt’s eyes widened. “Do you want to come back to mine? We have a lot of good ponies there that can help you!”

“Any help would do,” Flaura answered. “And are you sure they shall help us?”

“It may take some time, if I’ll be frank myself, but I’m sure you’ll find your home eventually.” He simpered. “Come with me if you want some help. And maybe cookies too, if you’re hungry.”

The look on Flaura’s face spilled of doubt. “I think we just go with it,” Lightning whispered, out of the young one’s earshot. The colt waved merrily from the distance, calling their names. And they did follow him, into this town he spoke of.

“Hey, do you know how you got here?” Collin asked. In truth? Light did not know. He wished he had, but he did not, and that was rather unfortunate.

“No, Collin. We, uh . . . don’t know how we got here.”

“Oooh. Alright!” He swiveled around. “You know, my town has a lot of great ponies! There’s grandpa and grandma and all the others, yeah.” The lot trudged in silence, whilst the colt walked backwards, and he dodged every obstacle like he had eyes on the back of his head.

The waves of light swirled around the air as if they were submerged in water. Many sources they came from, all plastered on boxy profiles scattered around. The place looked to be with many small hills, creating abodes more lofty that others. “Here we are!” exclaimed Collin, waving a hoof to the sable figures.

They were painted in neutral tones, unlike what he expected: the brown of wood. Some of these houses he has no idea if an architect would approve. The houses were kind of silly, in a way. The curves and roofs were odd, like somepony in the inside hit it with a sledgehammer and the result being the damage you see in comics, but nonetheless, Light didn’t want to mind.

Nestled in the trees were long branches that he assumed were reserved for animals, particularly bats. “Do bats stay up those trees?” Flaura brought up, as if reading his mind.

Collin shook his head. “No, silly! It’s for us! My town is mostly made up of bat ponies, so we chill up on branches like that and stay there for the rest of the night.” He chuckled. “Hey, you know, one time I saw a timberwolf maul a bird to death on the ground. Wait, I’ve seen it many times before, actually, now that I remember,” he added nonchalantly. “Grandpa tells me not to look, but I don’t know what he’s talking about. There’d be red paint everywhere!”

“What?” Light whispered to Flaura. She shrugged, annoyed.

“Anyhoo, let’s get that out of the way. See, tha—”

A mango splattered on Flaura’s head, exploding to wet chunks of sweet and sour fruit. She glared upwards to find a pair of bat ponies, snickering under their hooves over their mouths. Flaura’s face and especially ears reddened. “Why, you little sons of bitches, damn you!” The two scoffed in amusement and flew away with ease, Flaura wiping off the mango residue on her face. “I ought fucking find those two and slam their hea—”

“Look, an acorn!” Collin pointed, eyes bright. “Hey, what’re you all waiting for? Let’s get it!” And before they knew it, the little colt was gone, fast in his leave and talk. Light patted her back whilst she continued to rub the rest off.

“It’ll be okay.”

“I know that. Though for now I would consider myself royally pissed at those two,” she spat. Flaura murmured to herself something, making a face.

“I’ve heard bat ponies can be a little bit mischievous . . .”

“No shit, genius.” She threw the bits away.

He shrugged in defeat, hooves in the air. “Yeah, I really do. They can be a little playful. Maybe we should just follow Collin for now, though.” They could hear him talk to the acorn like it’s a new baby who came home from the hospital. Weird.

“I have only met this foal and this is one of the first things I see,” she jested bitterly. They both came over to see him cradle the acorn . . . like it’s a baby who came home from the hospital . . .

“Hey, you two! Look who I found! I named him Ian!” He rubbed it across his left cheek.

Flaura stared at Lightning Glare, giving a neutral appearance. “I have finally seen everything.” She turned around. “You mentioned of ponies who could help us, right? Where they are, show us.”

Collin pointed to a house in the distance while eating a mango he didn’t have before.

Flaura knocked on the quaint, little door. Light was sure Collin was behind him, because he heard his loud and rather slaphappy chewing. “Grandma? Grandpa? Are you there?” from a mouthful he called.

The door opened slowly. An old mare and stallion smiled at the sight of the two strangers. Her golden mane and silver streaks draped down her white coat. He, on the other hoof, was almost all grey in every aspect of his body, his physique still muscular, his veins exposed on his rolled up white polo. But his eyes shone a tranquil green, popping out from the colours rest. For their age, they still looked young. “Why, hello! My name is Athena. Who may the two of you be?” the mare greeted, her bat pony wings stretched.

“Flaura, and this is Lightning,” she said. “We’re lost, and we need ask if you know the way back.”

“You’re lost?” The mare uttered. “Oh, how awful! Where do you live, dear?”

“In Canterlot.”

“And I’m from Ponyville.”

The elder mused shortly. “I’m sorry to say, but we don’t have a clue how to go there.”

Flaura was baffled. “You don’t know?”

“I might have something in the house that might help. In the meanwhile, you two could stay and have some tea. Oh, and we need to look at those wounds there. That’s a lot of leaves and blood I see.”

“I needn’t it,” she said. “I will be fine.”

“I insist.”

“It’s okay.”

“If you say so. Come in, and Collin may show you around.” The colt suddenly appeared between them. The elders made way for them. Flaura kept repeating the word Ponyville when they entered, rolling it off her tongue.

It was more spacious in here than what it seemed from the outside. It looked like a lodge you’d see in the mountains. Warm, orange lights were present, but they were pretty dim, giving off an atmosphere. It was quaint, in one word. Light liked this. This was a house he could live in forever.

But a fast blur dragged he and Flaura around when he needed more time to appreciate the place.

“This is the kitchen—man, I wished grandma would make chocolate pizza, maybe tomorrow, this is the fridge, where I keep all my science experiments, this is a candle: his name is Bob, this is the living room, where boring family talks happen, this is my bedroom, where I sleep and hugsie wugsie my stuffy penguinie . . . And is grandma and grandpa’s bedroom, where they sleep, duh, and this is an empty bedroom: we don’t really use that bed, and—OH, here’s a long list of guys I have around the house: Bob, Twilly, Plate-O, Nickel, Magic Carpet, Bowl—a, and—”

“Calm yourself!” Flaura yelped, sweat on her body. Light’s hoof hurt from all the pulling Collin did to him. He was stronger than he looked.

“Oops! Sorry . . .”

“Collin, Collin, it’s fine,” Light assured. “Just please take it down a notch, would you?”

“Hmmm. Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, wanna see my pet rock?”

“Collin! The tea’s ready!”

He gasped so hard the weather surely was affected. Collin tugged them to the kitchen once more. Presented to them on the counter was three cups of tea, and the colt immediately grabbed one and downed it in one go. Light ignored that and reached out, grabbing one and taking a sip. He took another. It’s amazing.

“Wonderful is this tea!” Flaura complemented, and Lightning Glare said something of the same, basically chugging it and licking it.

The colt chuckled. “Only my grandpa makes the best tea.”

“Why, thank you, Collin. Why don’t you entertain our guests while I help Athena look for some maps.

“Sure, grandpa!”

He smiled before leaving, the grandson giving the same back.

“You can sit over here!” Collin prodded a roomy couch. Light sat, and Flaura did too, having a more relaxed posture. The colt poked his head from behind him. “So . . . Light—wait, can I call you Light?”

“Ponies call me that as a nickname, actually, and you’re free to use it if you want to.”

Collin appeared in front of him. “Good! So Light, I’mma ask you somethings: what do you like to do?”

“Um . . . reading, I guess, yeah. Reading.”

“And what stuff do you read about?”

“Any topic, really. From fiction to biographies to geographies to simple coffee table books, I like to read them all.”

“Welp, that’s interesting, really, having a curiosity like that.” Collin looked surprised all the sudden. “Is there anything you don’t like?”

“Well, if it’s a generally bad book, then I won’t like it. For exampl—”

“Like those really bad fairytales where some dude saves a girl from a monster and she apparently falls in love in him for the sake of the plot?”

Light coughed, then sniffed. “Kinda like that, yes. And don’t tell me you read those kinds of novels.”

“Please, I’d rather get eaten alive by a hungry hippo made of marshmallows and never enjoy the means of existence than read a ‘novel’ like that.”

Flaura gawked at him, turned away, and looked back, a subtle change of her face’s emotion. “
Continue,” she said.

“Collin, what do you like to do?” Light brought up.

“Oh gee, um . . . well, I like doing stuff, I guess. It doesn’t really matter to me, just as long as I’m having fun. I find fun in a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Doing science experiments is my favorite one. I remember the first one I ever did: There was an egg that didn’t float in the water, so I added salt to it, and KABAM!” He karate chopped the air like the foal he was. “It floateeeeed.”

“That’s cool,” Light said.

The colt giggled. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Are there any other science experiments you’ve done?”

“Many! One was with a balloon, a bottle, aluminum foil, and other things. Then there was this one time I made butter by shaking a jar of heavy cream. It was fun! And I ate it all. It tasted weird.”

“Huh. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I thought so too. But the world really is filled with stuff like that, you know? Stuff that you don’t know was possible, but is. I find that a lot when exploring.”

“I have to agree on you with that one.”

“Speaking of things that I enjoy, what was your childhood like, Light? How was it?”

“Oh. Um. I mean, it was generally quiet and such. I like to stay at home most of the time.”

“And you’d read?”

“Yeah, I would read. I read a lot.”

“Oh, okay.” Collin smiled wide. “So how’s life?”

“Sad,” said Flaura. “Very, very sad. And awful. And unfair. And tiring.”

“Awwww. Don’t be like that. Just look at the positive side! You’re here with me! I haven’t heard anypony talk like you do!”

Flaura slumped down on the couch, crossing her forelegs, her view away. She looked uncomfortable.

“Have you ever tried to write a book, though?” Collin looked at Light. “I’m sure you have.”

“Actually . . . I never really tried.”

“What?! Why?”

“It’s not my thing, Collin, it really isn’t. I prefer not to be the creator of things. I like to be anything but a creator.”

“And why is that?”

What do I say to that? Either say I’m scared or that I’m to bad to try. “I just don’t find it interesting to write. I have tried to write before, but it didn’t exactly work out.”

He was lying.

“Oh. Well, if you say you’re so bad at it, then maybe you could ask my grandpa for some tips and stuff. He’s really good in writing, even if he’s an astronomer!”

“Well, that would be nice. Also, he’s an astronomer?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I would like to speak to him about that. It would be interesting.”

Collin’s grandmother stepped in the room. “My, it seems that we can’t find any maps in here! I’m very sorry, dears. Tell you what: why don’t you two sleep with us for tonight, and maybe we can find some maps in the library tomorrow? I’m sure you both are tired from your travels.”

“That would be wonderful,” agreed Lightning Glare. It would be rude to reject an offer like that.

“Same here,” answered Flaura.

“Great! You could use the other bedroom we don’t use. Shall we?”

Light and Flaura studied the room. It was clearly still kept clean. There was no dust in sight and furniture was still in here, vintage looking. On the table was an oil lamp and a small picture frame. Light picked the frame up. It was that of a mare and stallion, not Athena or Cronus, but of another, younger looking couple. They looked very happy, hugging each other and pecking their lips. They must be Collin’s mother and father.

Flaura lethargically plopped down on the bed. He noticed only one large one was in the room. “Looks like we need to sleep together.” Light informed. She seemed not care, drowning her head in pillows. Flaura let out a low purr.

“I am tired.” she mumbled from her position.

Light chuckled lightly. “Do you want to sleep now?”

“I would very much like to.” She scooted over to the left side of the bed, allocating space for him. Flaura tucked herself under the comforter whilst Light inserted himself in. They faced away from each other, the two taking some time in arranging the blanket. It turns out Flaura really liked it. Flaura scratched her flank, grunting, then letting go, and all was quiet.

There they lay, waiting for something.

“I’ll . . . turn off the lights now.” Light turned off both lights from the table and the one on the bedside table. He could barely see her, but he knew she was there, staring at him.

“Do you see those shadows moving around the room?” she asked, motioning to the space around them.

Light took a while to study them. “Yes, I can see them.”

He could hear her nod. “I have always wondered why they keep appearing in the dark. Always do they appear after a moment and seem to flash around. Do you know why they do that?”

Light curdled up like a ball. He smacked his lips. “I think I know why they keep appearing.”

“You know? Tell me—why?”

“They’re in your head, Flaura. They’re not actually there.”

She peeped around again. “But I can see them, though. They feel so real and I feel like they could attack me at any moment. I recall of my mother and how she would swat them away.”

Light softly poked her foreleg. “Flaura, do you believe in ghosts, gods, or any of the like?”

“I believe in ghosts, yes, for I have seen them before. And whilst the gods are unmerciful, I believe they exist too.” she said meekly.

“Alright. And have you heard a lot of ghost stories as a foal?”

“I have, yes. All before I started seeing them.”

“That explains it. Flaura, you see ghosts because you believe they’re there. The brain is a powerful thing. Every single thing that you experience, you feel, you see, you smell, you taste, you hear will all be processed by the brain. If you trick it or break it, then your perception of reality will be so too. All those stories from your foalhood made you see those ‘ghosts’ you were talking of. It felt real, and so you brought it with you until this very day. Now you see them in this room, you see them coming closer, but do you notice something? They never attack. Never. They always stay in the dark, it seems.”

Light quickly reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Their part of the room was glowed with a strong orange. No ghosts were there, or ever have been.

“See? They all are not there. But in your mind, they do lurk. That’s the only place where they exist. And it’ll stay that way if you let it.”

Light saw the relief in her, and that made him feel a lot better. He was about to shut the light off once more, but he felt a squeeze on his hoof.

“Would . . . would you leave the light on? I am still scared.”

Lightning Glare smiled. He left the lamp right on the same spot.

Fifth

Fifth

“At last, I can compete with thee in terms of a mane messier. What do you think?”

He groaned a low hum. A large amount of saliva drooled out his lips, creating a large puddle on the bed and pillow. Do I slaver a lot. He rubbed it off and his eyes. “Good . . . morning to you,” he said, naughty strands of mane flailing and covering part of his vision. Light noted that her green mane had been tied into an ostentatiously messy bun. And he had to kind of agree with her; she was a close second compared to his hair.

“And a good morning to you,” she gave back. “If you could consider two hours after noon a morning.”

“Oh. It’s really two?”

“Yes. You could come and eat your meal, if you want. Collin and I broke the fast four hours ago. Eggs and toast and milk we had. Yours is still on the table for you.”

“Well, thanks.” He smiled. Light got off the bed, quickly making it. The pegasus looked his eyes up, clearly seeing his mane in shambles. “Oh, and Flaura, by the way, my mane is much more messier than yours.”

“Are you sure of that? That’s it? Nothing else?”

He blew a tuft. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure,” replied he. She gave an indignant tsk at that.

As expected, Light saw a plate filled with food, a glass of milk beside it. The day seemed not bright. Maybe it was because of the towering canopies that blocked the sun, or perhaps the weather had been planned—a cloudy afternoon. But whatever the reason may be, it was crisp and nice.

Light started on his toast first. Flaura observed him eat, intently watching. He had a gulp of milk, the glass now half-empty.

“So, where’s Collin?”

“The colt is doing a thing that is ‘important;’ I haven’t a clue. He was gone for most of time, save breakfast. I ought tell you: the foal is up to something, and I’m confident it’s of a weird nature.”

“Huh.” Light took another bite. It was crunchy and hard. “How was your day so far?”

She blinked. “Fine, if you want me frank. I had my mane done by the grandmother, in what she called a ‘messy bun.’ She thought it looked appropriate for me.” Flaura poked it carefully.

“Is that so? Well, she is right; it does fit you.”

“Why, thank you. I think it looketh nice, yes.”

“It sure does.” Light was halfway his first toast, but he was not hungry. He never had that urge, really. Light put the fork down. “I think I’m done now. I amn’t that hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten for gods know how long,” Flaura pointed out. “That’s a tad long without food, no?”

“I’ll be fine,” Light said, getting up and stretching his wings. The two stared awkwardly. “What . . . do you want to do now?”

“Erm, perchance we can go to library in search of the maps she talked of,” she recommended. “I waited for you to come with me.”

“Sure, we can do that, I guess.”

Precisely what he thought, the weather was cold and breezy, like there had been a snowstorm. But that snowstorm would’ve been soft, for the leaves that fell moved anything but hard. Light noted that there was nopony around. The townsfolk must’ve been in their cabins, dozing off under daylight. He wondered why Collin was up in this time, for the bat ponies are nocturnal.

“Over here.” The library was a much larger cottage than the rest, but still looked the same. It was also painted a dark purple.

Light opened the door for her. “After you.”

She gave a smug smile whilst entering.

Filled to the brim of the room was books, scrolls. Even the ceiling had some bookshelves hanging off it, metal bars sticking out beside them for what he assumed was for the bat ponies. Lamps lighted from the corners, reminiscent of the medieval times.

A bat pony mare seemed to drowse from her chair, the librarian most probably. Light walked up to her. “Um, excuse me, but can you direct us to the maps, please?”

The bespectacled pony jerked up and slapped her thigh mushily. “Wha? What?” She coughed and realised there was somepony in front of her, patient. “Oh. Sorry! What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to know where the maps are.”

“Oh. Well, then, right this way, good sir!” The mare launched, hitting a bookshelf and crashing down, books falling with her. He cringed. The mare’s hoof hastily pointed to a corner, the limb collapsing back into the pile.

Flaura had her hoof smacked on her face the entire time. “You get the maps and I’ll help with her mess . . .” Light went on his way, glancing back in concern.

The drawer was full of maps. Light took one out. The Map of Thestralvania. Huh. It’s this town . . . The town was bigger than he thought, some parts hidden in thickets. They were in the clearest part of it, near the centre. Light new that bat ponies rathered a dim atmosphere. He rummaged through some maps: one of Canterlot, Applewood, Maretonia, the Frozen North, Yakyakistan, Mount Aris and Basalt Beach.

The Map Constellations.

Flaura treaded, eyeing the scroll. Light found a spot, leaning back against the shelves and landing his plot on the carpet.

“It’s the map of the stars.”

“Is your home amongst the stars in space itself?” Flaura remarked, scoffing.

“No, but I like to see this first. Is that fine?”

She snorted. “Fine.”

Light spread it. The pictures were even more detailed than he would’ve thought, but they were. There were two circles, representing the north and south hemispheres. Many familiar names came up.

Flaura pointed onto one. “Auriga.” she stated.

“Yeah. Auriga.”

“Is he an astronomer, your friend?” Flaura asked.

“Nope. He’s more of a sports guy.”

“Oh.”

“Mhmmm.”

“So why is his name Auriga, then? It makes sense not, now I think of it.”

“Ponies can get confused as to why his name is that.”

“Elaborate.”

He leaned back. “When Auriga’s mother was young, she wasn’t loved by her father. She sang really well, and he made her do things that made her lose her childhood; she hadn’t it. She was his money making machine. He would hit and slap and punch her when she did even the slightest mistake. Some parents do this because they needed to discipline their child, but in this case, it’s not: it’s to be a perfectionist. When older, she fell in love with Auriga’s father, a charioteer. She finally felt love.

“Auriga kept on reminding me that his mother never received love, and he told me the story. He asked his mother on why she had named Auriga. She told him that the word Auriga meant ‘the charioteer.’ And she told him that even if she and his father were gone, they would be watching him in the sky, as a constellation, streaking through the sky in a chariot forevermore. That’s his mothers story.”

“Wow,” she said, furrowing her brow. “She must love him very much.”

“She did. She really, really did.”

Flaura rubbed her foreleg. “So . . . let’s find the map, shall we?”

Lightning fished for the map until he found it.

He grabbed on side of the parchment while she took the other, and they pulled. Many illustrations of cities new and old jumped out of the page with their bright colours, clearly making a picture of his land.

“Oh, my . . .” Flaura placed a hoof on the map. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. She was, undoubtedly, silently surprised. She mumbled words under her breath, her eyes darting all over the names.

Light scanned the map. “We’re . . . here,” he declared. “We’re right here. Thestralvania.”

It was a town deep in the woods, south of Foal Mountain. To the west was Canterlot, and even more so and a bit south was Ponyville.

That’s the target.

“Alright. So we’re here . . . and you need to get here.” He circled Canterlot. “Then I’ll go here.” He circled Ponyville.

“It’s closer than I thought,” Flaura admitted, out of her daze. “It’s only a few days worth of walking to Canterlot. We need only few rations and water and we can walk there.”

“Yup. We can head up the trail and get you back. I can take a train back home.”

She blinked, looking confused. “A . . . train?”

“Yup. It’ll only take a few hours to get to Ponyville.”

“Ah.” She smacked her lips. “Do that, then. With the . . . train.”

“Alright.”

Light was about to put the map back, but Flaura placed a firm grip on it. “I want to see it. Please?”

Flaura studied the map with great curiosity. It seemed she had great interest in the larger cities such as Manehattan and Fillydelphia, but particularly at Canterlot. She stared hard at Canterlot, like she’d never seen it before. And he thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a little peek on Equestria.

The east and west coasts had a lot of the major cities, mainly because they were ports, some of them dating back a time long ago. Their towers shining white with their metal and glass was as clear as day on the map, less frequent than central Equestria. Where the old settlements are in here, central Equestria. Rivers of many snaked their way through city to city, and in the centre was Canterlot. It was where he was born, where he grew up, under the watch of his parents, until he moved to Ponyville. It was a nice place, with good food and scenery, but the quietness he so wanted could be found not here, so he seeked a place elsewhere, anywhere but there. He had found the perfect place.

Flaura dropped the map to her thighs, fishing for another map. Her eyes glistened when she found it. The map of Itaily.

“You are Itailian, right?” Light asked. He felt kind of stupid to ask that.

“Yes, I am.” Flaura confirmed. “Though I talk not a lot of my mother tongue.” She hushed when she placed a hoof on the map. “I wished I knew Itaily more. That would be nice . . .”

Something about her guise was afraid. She looked afraid. Scared. A cafard. It was haunting, her melancholy. And yet she also seemed neutral; she really did. Flaura stroked the map like it was a child of her own.

“I . . . have to go. I will be busy.” Flaura hastily raised to her hooves. She waved the map to the bat pony. “May I have permission to borrow this?” The mare stuck out her tongue, cheekily smiling. Flaura bursted out.

★★★★★★★★★

She felt pecking on her face.

Her face was being nipped by the crow, eager in its goal. “H—hey! Get off!” Twilight scooted it out with a wing, the bird raising high and scowling. Its brethren materialised by its side, the lot flying off into their next adventure.

She breathed. The air was much cooler than she thought, infested with the sounds she knew not of; sounds of merchants and foals and trotting, yelling things she did not understand, she didn’t hear anything like it back home. It was scary being here. And distant too. A ring of a massive bell rung, shattering the wind and the ground and her eardrums.

“AH!” Luna yelped, clutching her forelegs. The princess hyperventilated. “W—where are we? Where is she?”

The open window allowed for the thrashing of a cloth, an old rag. There was no glass at all, just ragged stone edges crafted hastily. Twilight threw away the veil.

They were nowhere near Equestria.

She placed the cloth back to its place.

“Princess, to answer your question, I don’t think the question is where, but when.”

Luna treaded in front of the window, allowing the view to be absorbed. She shook her head when the epiphany arrived. “No, this can’t be . . .” Luna’s horn sparked, but nothing happened. She tried once more, to no avail. Luna casted another spell, lighting her horn. The light didn’t stay for more than a second as it merely vanished into nothingness. “I—I can’t get us out of here! I don’t know how!” The princess pulled the cloth out from its pins.

A glistening bay appeared before them, jagged rocks forming it and carving out the outline of the border between land and sea. The great Mount Vehoovius loomed, the breadth making the mountain that Canterlot was on look like a mere bump, made by accident, irrelevant.

Just out of sight of the volcano was a smudge of red and grey, a smaller town than where they were standing on. The difference between the modern day and “now” was clear when they chanced a glance at the ponies below.

“Mount Vehoovius . . . the Tricorner Villages of Marapore, Ponypeii, and Lusitano . . .” She gulped. “Neighples. Princess, we’re in Neighples.”

The door creaked loudly. Ramblings happened outside—a chaos. Clambering in, the sounds of the ponies neared. Luna took a hold of Twilight’s hoof, running their way down a flight of stairs. They snaked their way out a dank corridor till the sun greeted them with a bright slap on the eye.

The wind was powerful. Things flew on the air, but the ponies seemed not to mind. Ponies. There were ponies. They were off in their business, doing things that they needed to. Stallions done their work, the mares attending to their foals, and the foals of those mares running around, playing, laughing, smiling, dodging themselves and the rest. They looked very, very happy.

The song of metal clashing against metal sounded across the city, to join with the sound of commonfolk. It was a sound unfamiliar to the princess’ ears; she had never remembered hearing such things. The keen swords and knives and daggers and bows with arrows that lined the stalls had proudly done a job well done: scaring her.

Some of the ponies’ eyes were on them, especially to Luna. They looked at her like an angel who fell from heaven. They said no word, though, never giving more than a long stare. Their hooves shuffled underneath them to get a better view.

It felt like the entire city watched them; she was unsure of the lot and their intentions. “Where do we go?” Twilight whispered to Luna.

“We go where anyone hears us not. It is not safe to be here.”

They hurried their move, but not by too much, for the world was looking at them with a great intensity.

Luna headed a direction that was a great field of grass, on the foot of the volcano. Even it blocked the view of clouds behind it, an impregnable fortress made of cooled magma from the planet itself. She wondered what it must’ve felt for ponies to live so near it, even with a magical protection.

What kind of dream is this? What kind of nightmare? Bringing us into a whole new world like this . . . But I’ve made my choice.

The density of the buildings thinned as they came closer to the outskirts. The line between the middle class and poor was as clear as ever—the houses being exquisite and large, far away from the main crowd. They were boastful and tall, showing of their owner’s wealth. There were some raised brows when they passed, but like most, they were left alone. She immediately locked on to a home that was larger than the rest, and she knew that this was the home of Sterling Silver, a mare of wonders and magic. Twilight looked back to the city to discover how tall this place was, truly above all, and how she was in the thick of the greatest time in history.

The gaping size of the Meditrotanean sea filled her sight, many boats in the water. Most, if not all, were merchant ships used for carrying cargo to distant places, other continents. She had learned the Roamans never really dabbled into the water, barely having any warships in their arsenal. The ponies here even didn’t have that many too, even being near the water. They saw no use.

Luna unfurled her wings, taking off into the horizon. “Come.” Twilight flapped her way up, up above the world.

From up here she sighted the Tricorner Villages: Marapore, Ponypeii, Lusitano. They had been nestled close to the volcano, nearer than what she imagined. And farther from them to the north-east lay the Ponytenio National Park, a barren wasteland. It felt worlds away, the distance great.

Luna touched down on the cool blades of green. Twilight was just right at her side.

“What did you want to talk about, princess?”

“Why we’re here.” Luna motioned to the landscape. “Out of all places, she picked here. Right here. I was hoping you, of all ponies, would know why we stand where we stand.”

“Did Flaura come from this city?” Twilight asked.

“As a matter of fact . . . yes. She is from here, Neighples, this very city.” The princess shot a hoof to it.

“Aha! That may be it, princess. There’s a correlation. But now I wonder why is that. Why would Death bring us here, out of all places?”

“Hmmm, yes, it is odd, why she wants us here. We are still in square one, I need point out.”

“I know, princess, and we may very well be for a long time. Maybe forever, actually. There’s just a lot to process about.”

“Yes, and I am certain there is a lot more going on in this. Death does things not for no reasons There’s always a reason for something happening.”

“I see.”

Luna attempted to ignite magic to results none. “It appears I can do not spells too, even the simplest ones.” Twilight tried it, and it didn’t work. Luna let her freely to try whatever she might do of it: no outcome.

“It seems I can’t do it either, princess. Do you think Death had something to do with it?”

“I think so. She doesn’t want us to leave this place, or perchance know of the ramifications as of now. She’s hiding something from us. As I stated: there’s a lot more going on in the background.”

“Princess, what if we die in here if this is a dream?”

“Then we’ll return to the real world. But since we cannot come back to the real world . . . I have no idea what will happen.”

“Is there any other way one can die in the dream realm and not come back to life?”

“There is no other way. However, if one tries to commit suicide in a lucid dream and chants those words . . . they shall die in real life.”

Twilight nodded. “Okay . . . I have to ask, what was that spell you tried to do before? I don’t think I know it yet.”

“It is a mere thing I do to keep check of the dream realm. Normally, I would be able to distinguish between what’s real and what’s not in these dreams.”

“That’s what I’m concerned about, princess. I noticed that it feels very life-like in here, like it’s not even a dream at all. Who’s to say that we’re in some elaborate scheme?”

“I am very well aware of thy concerns; it is a pressing matter. Furthermore, the ramifications will change because of our actions. We need to do three things: find a way out, a way to distinguishwhat this place is, and find Death. You and I shall go back to the city, and we need to act as fast as possible, for both of us are in the dark. We have no idea what’s happening, less so in what eventually will.”

“We also have to look for Light,” she reminded. “That’s the reason why I came.”

Above them were crows that cried out mockingly.

★★★★★★★★★

“Heya, Light!” Collin hung from above him, swinging around playfully, nibbling a cookie. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh, I’m just reading a novel I picked up. I didn’t see you come in.”

“That’s because I didn’t! And what you’re doing sounds fun!” Collin let go of himself, landing on the floor with a loud smack. “Oh.”

“Oh, my, are you alright?” He held out a helping hoof for him. Collin shooed that away, though, getting back up as if nothing happened.

“Hai! My name is Collin fam!” He grinned.

“Okay . . . ?”

“Oh. Welp.” Collin scooted beside him. “So, how’s Flaura?”

“Well, you know, she’s in your room. I don’t know how long she has been in there, but she never came out to meal with my and my grandparents. She said she was busy with something. “

“Really? What did she say?”

“‘I am going to be in my room. I will be busy. No disturbances.’”

“Huh. She left me here a while ago too, saying she will be busy.”

Collin laughed. “I wonder what it is.”

“Whatever it may be, it seemed to be very important. She brought with her a map of Itaily.”

“Welp. Now it kinda makes sense. So, Light, I need to ask you something very important. And when I say important, it’s important important. No games. I need your complete honesty. Understand?”

“Um, yeah, okay. No games.”

“And you will not speak to anyone about this. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great. How are you feeling about being here? What had you felt, Light, before being here?”

“What do you mean by ‘before being here?’ Is it with my life or the past few days?”

“The past few days.”

“I guess I kinda felt . . . troubled? I don’t know; it’s a lot of feelings. All pouring in and never leaving. It’s too hard to manage them all, even if it’s not at once, and most times it’s impossible to do that either way. It’s just . . . a big cesspool, I would call it.”

“Is happiness in this ‘cesspool?’”

“I . . . honesty don’t know. It’s too confusing to see if it’s even there.”

“Oh. Alright, then. That’s done.” He simpered. “Do you have a plan or route to leave?”

“We have thought of some things, yes. I showed Flaura a while ago.”

“How does it go?”

“We’ll simply walk to Canterlot, and I will catch a train back to Ponyville.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah, it does. Maybe the walking part would be hard, but that’s the plan.”

“Yep! Oh, and speaking of Flaura, did you notice her mane. It looks so cute!”

“Hmmm. Yeah, I did notice. She kinda rubbed it all over my face the moment I woke up.”

“That’s interesting, though. Flaura did ask for her mane to be done right after she woke up. I wonder why she would do that.”

“Really? What do you think of it, then?”

“Frankly? I have no idea, Light. I have no idea . . .” Collin tugged on his wing suddenly. “Hey, why don’t we go home and eat something. I want a sandwich.”

“Hmmmm. You know, that sounds nice. Yeah, I think I’ll tag along.”

“Done with your meals, dears?” Athena plucked the pates from the table and gave a loving smile.

“Yes . . . grandma . . .” Collin slumped down, rubbing his belly. “Wow, am I full today . . .” He burped so loud that Flaura surely would’ve heard it from the other room. Light patted his head.

“You shouldn’t have eaten my leftovers, Collin.” he advised, but it was too late to say it.

“Welp. That didn’t work out, did it?” His grin was massive.

He could help not but smile. “It didn’t.”

“Heh. Well, I’ll be off to do some stuff. Baiii!” The colt zoomed back to his room, and furniture dropped, fell. Lightning’s mane pointed to the direction of the little, zany colt’s door.

Okay.

Light yawned. The somnolence was growing in him, he knew, and he also knew it would be some time before he would actually fall asleep. I’ll probably wake fourteen hours later again. I always do. But not tonight. I need to wake up early tomorrow.

Light closed the door behind him slowly. Flaura was adrift on the bed, dozing off. Light lay down unceremoniously beside her. The map was on her side, a little soggy. It’s wet.

He pushed that aside.

Lightning tucked himself under the thick sheets, sighing to himself. Today was a day, and tomorrow is going to be another. It would continue on until he died. Then the story’s end comes in. The end. The . . . end . . . of the story. My story.

Light thought of the plan that he thought of for many years. He’d need everypony to be gone for it to work, though, so he had to wait. Wait. Wait. Always had he waited.

Flaura rolled over, her mouth wide open and drooling, her mane a mess. That made him stop and sleep.

Sixth

Sixth

The tavern was filled to the brim with boisterous colts and men.

Once having a decision to just have a tiny sip and break, Luna and Twilight had entered the place, fully aware of the ponies chancing glances at them, but never minding it and expecting so. A buff stallion had given them their beverages, a lad who seemed to be the oldest amongst the bunch in the establishment. He was clearly under thirty, and yet all the others most were half his age. She swore she saw a little boy in here.

And even with the lingering thought of underaged foals consuming alcohol, they had some fun, nonetheless. Well, except for the first few hours, for a bunch of ‘em asked some very peculiar questions that she would rather not think of again. Luna and she were about to talk of plans, where to tread on next, but decided to leave it for later. They were burned out.

She felt like she was in those old themed restaurants with the gothic art and gilding and such, yet Twilight knew this was all either a very realistic dream or actually real. She was a little drowsy to make more thoughts right at the moment, though, even with Luna’s warnings and her own. A little sober, much?

The lunar alicorn muttered those four exact words to her, making her lift her head off the table, and then asked, “How much have you had the pleasure to drink, Twilight Sparkle?”

“One,” she said, “not including this.” It was easy for her to get that way. Twilight remembered she drank the bottle a quarter hour ago.

“What’s the concentration of this?” Luna picked her wooden mug up and scrutinized it. Twilight guessed it’s too late to revert her back easily. “I’ll snap out of it eventually.”

Then, like a curse fell upon the place, all the men left in unison, standing from their seats, leaving their mugs, and going out the single door, like some knew their mothers would come calling, slapping them for their tardiness. Boy did they leave fast; the tavern was almost empty in under a minute.

Twilight noticed the sun slowly coming down to be eaten by the horizon, drowning in the horizon’s blackness.

“That’s odd,” she noted

“Want to find a bed and breakfast, Twilight Sparkle? I am getting a bit light-headed myself.”

“There would be no harm, princess. I don’t really wanna stay in this place in the night.” Twilight took one last sip from the half-full cup; she never tasted anything so good in her entire life.

“This city sure is bigger and more crowded than I anticipated,” Luna admitted, when seeing the ponies once they were out. They managed a way through a crowd, some from the bar, packed and loud and bickering under the cool.

“Crowds like these can happen because transportation wasn’t so advanced; population densities can be two or three times higher than even the most compacted cities like Manehattan and Colt Kong,” replied Twilight, matter-of-factly.

“Interesting indeed.”

It was a very interesting, Twilight agreed, but not just of that—no. It was more of the differences comparing here and there, and there being modern day Equestria. It reeked of foul on any place they went, not mattering the place, and nopony seemed to mind. The line between peasant and commonfolk and noble was as present as it could possibly be, she needed to note again, and in these times, no matter how hard one worked, they would be stuck in the status they were birthed with for all their life. Twilight thought of it as sad, but those are how things were at the time, and nothing could be done about it. Interrupting the past was not what she needed.

Twilight accidentally bumped into somepony, a stallion donning a cape with gold stitching and a coat of a similar design—flowers gracing every edge, frilly much that it was bizarre. He raised his brow. Twilight’s heart pounded at the sight of him.

“S—sorry,” muttered Twilight.

“It is quite alright. There is not a harm in carefulness, now, is there?”

“I guess not.”

“Very good. At the moment, I ought leave; I have a very important deed that shall be completed! Thought a time on the beach is what I prefer, it is an evening so nice, agree not?”

“It’s lovely,” Twilight answered.

“Right, back to my business!” he said with pride, and with that he left. Twilight immediately came to Luna and nudged for attention.

“What is it?”

“I just met Antonio Rosa,” she announced excitedly.

“And who may he be?”

“A noblecolt, one of the most famous of the time.”

“Why’s he so?”

“His size, lands, servants, gold, and influence was unlike anypony had seen before. It’s one that basically made him king at that point.”

“Ah. And does he have a wife?”

“He does; a noblemare by the name of Tyche Valentina. A fine mare in her class too.”

By a lucky chance, they unconsciously drifted into a place where they were not met by the hassles of many moving ponies, a place of peace, Twilight may call it. It was positioned perfectly—in a way so they can see the bayside and the orange horizon, like it was made for it perfectly. Their eyes focused on the sky.

“I want to go somewhere,” the princess said.

“So am I. Where do we go?”

“Up to your liking.”

“Let’s rest by the pier then,” Twilight answered, slightly inspired by the preferences of Antonio, looking at the glistening, salty water.

“Then we shall go to the pier.”

The distance of the walking space between any building and the ledge out to sea was amazingly small, and yet ponies found their way, the pegasi wasting no time and staying in the air, whilst the unicorns and earth ponies made their way quick and in order. An occasional pony would be naughty, and that’s inevitable.

There was no railing of wood lining the border dividing the masses, so there was nothing there to stop their fall into the salty water. Speaking of salty water, its smell was powerful, as if Twilight herself could taste it in her own mouth. It lulled her, the stoical song of crashing tides.

The horizon halved the sun, light haemorrhaging to the bottom where the other part would’ve been, a bright orange she didn’t knew. The sun she knew was a different orange, not yellow, and so it was weird to her, but all the more interesting. It moved slowly, Celestia somewhere controlling the sun and the moon, simultaneously.

Luna tsked at the sight of the beauty.

Then she said very calmly, “My sister liked the idea of having different hues at different places very far away, where the other side of the world could not see it.”

“I’ve never heard about that before.” Twilight told. “I wonder why she would do that.”

“Celestia always wanted to give different people something unique,” she said. “It’s a thing she’s done for a long time.”

They waited until the sun disappeared, knowing it would rise to light another kingdom far, far away. And behind them was the moon, big, beautiful, bright. The purple sky soon disintegrated into black, dotted with stars. Luna gazed at the sight of them.

“You best leave now. It’s coming,” a voice with a thick accent said. It was from a colt draped in cloth. All the others too departed from where she knew not—back into their homes she guessed, or anywhere safe from the way the moved: haste. The colt gave a nod and disappeared with them, quickly concealing his being.

The whole area was empty, save Luna and Twilight. It was weird—the fact. Ponies had been doing business here minutes ago, and all the sudden they rushed out the streets, like it was routine, albeit with the terror still present, clearly. Unless it was a part of it.

“It is better if we go to someplace safe,” said Luna, “for I have a feeling something is wrong.”

Nodding, they headed anywhere where safe seemed to lurk.

Trudging the streets, at present it seemed as if the entire place city was abandoned—shrouded by howling winds. It reminded Twilight of ancient cities in ruin in the modern day, left clouded with lost troves of stories.

Somehow she felt a shrinking around her, like apiece of the world’s walls forged closer, and they were sneaky in their move; therefore nopony could ever suspect their sight, resulting them to rely on their feeling, the knowledge that something is there—a one of dread.

And it did dread her, greatly, and what scared her was she isn’t so sure what exactly stimulated this emotion. That she asked from herself, to find no such specific answer, but one as a whole: the newness of this. Had she gone through spooky, clammy places in the past? Yes, for certain, but if taken into consideration the fact that she and Luna may be in the past or in a dream, the physical incarnation of death possibly in their tail, and the vanishing of Lightning and Auriga, thenit would be precise to say she was terrified, utterly.

Twilight yelped. Something tossed her over like random rubbish, and she was on the cold, hard ground. A shadow’s wavy form stared back at her. It was hard to discern exactly what it was, but it turned out to be a mare who had the same emotion as her, it seemed, and she took off without a slight apology.

Luna assisted her to stand. A hair-raising scream came from the left. From a narrow walkway.

The body was lying on the floor, a pool of blood blossoming out of his neck that was snapped in half, his spine exposed, his head facing her direction, looking at her, eyes wide open—staring back in shock.

He was suddenly lifted into the air slowly by a red aura, as if his soul was ascending above this world, above this existence, to be amongst the stars in heaven. The magic slowly shut his eyelids and mouth, making it look like he was at peace. It folded his limbs in a respectful manner, wrapping it around an imaginary blanket. The stallion looked to be ready for rest.

His body drifted above, out of her sight, and all that lay by his original spot was a cloth drenched in red, a cloth of exquisite gold stitching.

★★★★★★★★★

Lightning Glare bide a time his. Time was faster as one grew he knew, for he had felt it himself, yes, but he also knew because of an article he read. Like he said, he did like to read, and he knew this for a long time. As the major life-changing experiences he had increased in number, he noticed that time felt faster, and so that may be a cause for the hands of the clock in his head to pick its pace. It isn’t what he wants. Light wanted more time, and if he can’t, then he wanted to feel as if it didn’t exist.

He soothed the keys of the typewriter: a tad pressure to wobble them, but not much to keep it from marking the paper, flaccid on its place. It appeared very old—an antique. The date engraved on the side confirmed this. It was made sixty years ago, thirty-nine years whole before he was birthed.

It already was night, a chilly one, even if the trees blocked the circulation of wind, so Light was offered a green, chunky-knitted cardigan from Athena, which he gladly accepted. He liked it very much, for a women’s garment. The grandfather was lacking of clothes at the moment. I should wear stuff like this more often,he said. It’d be interesting.

Not to mention that his velveteen rabbit has more clothing than he ought have. Light didn’t like to call him an it. He’s more than an it! Much, much more. Clearly.

“Hallo, Lightning.” A voice chirped deeply. Cronus started his way towards him, a cup on his hoof. He placed it in front of Light with no question. “Heard ya like some Cappuccino, so here.”

“Thank you.” He downed it quickly, while still a tad hot. He finished it until it was half-empty.

A chair the elder grabbed, and he seated adjacent to Light. He droned a monotone tone, looking as if he thought to himself. “Alright. Let’s start at some relatively easy and short things. Now, I’m not gonna teach you about grammar and editing and all the technical stuff like that; I’ve heard Collin say you know about that already. What I’m going to teach you . . . several things, yeah? On a personal level, they are the prerequisites—the backbones—of good writing, and just storytelling in general, in any way or form. And you know what they are?”

“Nope.”

“Guess.”

“Timing?”

“Nope.”

“Plot?”

“That’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Characters?”

“A tad close.”

“Uh . . . writing and development?”

“Not either. Think, just think. What thing is the elephant in the room, the one thing needed for a satisfying climax, ending. What is it that people tend to avoid?”

Inspiration struck him. “Conflict.”

“There we go; now you go it. Conflict. In many ways, conflict adds meaning to a plot, a story.It makes it interesting. Imagine this: a world where there is no pain, no suffering, no sadness, no anguish, no hate, nopunishment—a world where there are no consequences for your actions. If you, under these circumstances, go through no fight in your entire existence, then something’s wrong, my friend, something’s wrong. It’s just not possible for a world like that to even exist. It’s not possible to create a world like that and have ‘people’ on it. They’re not people anymore if they are subject to none of that.

“It’s what makes you and I and all of us. Pain. Even if a world like that exists theoretically, then it’s bound to crumble down, and only then will true meaning be found. Through pain and conflict we learn about us. And it can be applied to stories, too. It makes the characters feel more . . . real, if you know what I mean. And, yeah, you do want to make your characters feel more real, because the art of storytelling is a kind of escapism. Tell me, why do you read?”

“I read because it takes me to other worlds, to places no one has ever dreamt of going.”

“There. And yet some things stay the same, no? An example is how the characters react to events and what they do. Even the most wild fantasies and all fantasies have one thing in common: rules. They have a set of predefined rules that govern their everything. That’s what makes something realistic—not just if it can actually happen. There’s more to it than that!”

He grabbed a pencil and showed it to Light. “What do you see?”

“A pencil.”

“A pencil. What do you describe of this pencil?”

“It’s yellow in colour, short, with a black nib, a red eraser on the back with the bottom covered in metal.”

“Nope, nope, nope, that’s not gonna work, at all.” The grandpa stowed the little instrument away. “I was looking more of a . . .backstory.”

“Oh. Um . . . can I see it, then?”

He handed him the pencil. Upon a very close inspection, it seemed to show signs of wear, albeit handled carefully. Near the eraser’s end was the hastily written inscription: S.Y 964. Then came the epiphany.

“This is very old,” said Light. “Several decades since you wrote that over here, and the fact that its short means it's used. But I still don’t know what ‘S.Y’ means.”

“School Year,” chirped he, in a way that is awfully close to Collin’s. “I was ten at the time, attending in a small, quaint schoolhouse in Canterlot. It was an interesting experience. Need I tell more?”

“Please do.”

He hung a foreleg on his seat backrest. “There’s nothing too interesting about my life: it would be the most boring movie ever if it were made into one. I had parents, went to school, graduated, met Athena when we were both young and dumb, I remember.” He chuckled. “But it doesn’t really matter that it may seem boring. I mean, it is my life, so that’s that.”

“Huh. I guess you’re right.”

“You guess? It is right, Lightning. It just is.”

“Oh. I—I’m sorry . . .”

Cronus stifled a guffaw. “Kid, it’s alright. And the explanation I gave was farfetched, don’t you think?”

“Now, when I think of it, you did go too far.”

“There. I’ll go back into what we need to talk about. What was the importance of me telling you about this pencil? What do you think it was?”

“Well . . . you, um, showed me two different ‘sides’ of this pencil, the one that I see and the one that you see, so I think it has to do with the fact that there are different perspectives around it.”

Cronus petted his back like a friend old. “You’re getting close. It is not the same thing to you and I, when we both look at it. If we don’t see it as same, then we have a different . . . ?”

“Meaning.”

“There you go! Now you got it! What it means is not the same for us, but that doesn’t mean you cannot be on the other’s shoes, for the matter. In storytelling, things can be meant as other things—symbolism. Things that may not seem what they are, they have depth. And you want depth in your stories. They make them feel more real. Lightning, would you put symbolism in your stories?”

“I think I would.”

“And why so?”

“It’s a great way to get a point across, in a way that isn’t so obvious. All the books I read have them, and while the messages they give don’t exactly correlate to the theme and topic of the story, they do give other lessons.”

“Good! You’re aware of them, while most are oblivious. It’s nice to see you appreciate small things like these.” He patted Light’s back. “And these can be implemented in the real world. While some may seems flawed, you have to understand, interpret it. Keep your mind open in these sort of things, got that?”

“I do.”

“Well, I suppose that’s all I’ve got for now.”

“Yeah. Hey, thanks for this, even if it may seem short.”

“Not a problem, not a problem. I like sharing stuff like this to people. Say, you wanna drink some beer sometime?”

“I don’t drink. I’ve never had alcohol before.”

“What?! What are you, twelve?”

“Heh. People say that to me all the time.”

“Then we’ll prove them wrong.”

“I dunno . . .”

“Come on! It’s just a little drink, a little sip, perhaps?” His voice was low and slow, but opposite of the emotion behind it. Cronus gave a hearty chuckle.

“. . . I guess I can. There’s no harm in a ‘little sip.’”

“Great! I look forward to that.”

“I’m looking forward to that too.”

Cronus eyed a clock on the wall. “It’s time for me to go—have to make sure Athena gets to bed early. Goodnight, Lightning.”

“Goodnight.”

The grandpa tipped an imaginary hat before signing off. Light was left alone to watch nothing.

“Done?” A voice called on over. It was Flaura.

“All done and good, Flaura. where you waiting out the door the whole time?”

“It does not matter. I . . . need to talk to you about a matter very important.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmmm. And I need it be a secret, got it? Do not tell anypony of this. I needn’t let them find out.”

“Alright. Shut the door behind you.” Flaura closed it with a look of great reverence. Her walk was languid, so slow. An occasional stop was there, a while it took, and she started moving once more.

“Come . . . sit on the floor, will you?” He did what she did so, and Flaura joined him. Her eye avoided him, pleading almost. She rubbed her foreleg.

Light didn’t say a word.

“Do you know . . . how we were confused of our different points of view? Concerning the creation date of the temple and such?”

“Yes . . . why is that?”

“There is no way for me to tell in a manner lightly. I wish there was, I wish there was, but there’s not another way, I don’t understand, I don’t understand what is happening, I don’t understand what’s happening!”

“Flaura! You don’t need to be afraid in telling me. You have to let it out.” He remembered Twilight’s words.

“Nah. It’s . . . It’s nothing. I . . . It’s not important, I say.” She feigned a snicker and a grin.

He frowned, looking nervous. What do I even say? Should I just let her go? What do I do? “It’s clearly not. Flaura, something’s happening. You’re not going anywhere if you bottle it all up.”

“Lightning, it is nothing. Forget about it.”

“You’re telling me that you came all this way, looking all nervous and scared, having something important you need to say to me . . . and just run away like that? Flaura, something’s up. Please, tell me. I won’t say a thing, like you told me, I promise. I have no reason to hurt you.”

“I am beyond hurt, Lightning Glare. You know not of the pain I feel.”

“Then make me understand. Make me understand how you feel, Flaura. That’s the only thing I need to know. Please.” She gave him a piercing, sidelong glare, pressing her maw against itself.

She started to back away from him, to the door. A hoof he held out.

“Fucking . . .”

“Come here,” he uttered, his throat lodged with an unexplainable emotion. “W—we can do this together. I—It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. This is not okay!”

“Then it will be okay. You just have to let me.” Light extended his hoof a tad more. “Take my hoof. You don’t need to be alone.”

Flaura stumbled on her stand. “I—I need to be alone. I a—am alone. I don’t know where I am and w—who the lot of you are and what I’m s—supposed to do here . . . I don’t . . . why? Why?” She trailed backwards as she rambled.

“Okay, okay. You’re obviously in stress . . . and you need time, I know that, so why don’t we just sit down for a minute and cool down. I—It’s all very confusing, Flaura, but we’re going to need to cooperate with each other if we’re going to be stuck in wherever we are now, okay?”

She looked conflicted. “This . . . this is very confusing, I agree.”

“So let’s take this step by step. One at a time.” He pointed his handing-out hoof to her then himself, it waiting for anything to happen. Light nudged his head very slightly.

She rubbed her foreleg. “I don’t know what to do . . . Lightning. I don’t know what I ought do.”

“Me too, Flaura. I don’t know what I am going to do. I am confused too. But I’m here, and that’s what matters, and it would really mean the world to me if you would stay too.”

Flaura let her head hung loose, uncomfortable sounds from her maw muffled. She let her body subside. To prevent even the smallest fall, Light pushed himself to become her bulwark, cushioning Flaura. He tried pulling her up, but it was a use none, for she resisted his power, limp and dangling like a corpse, and he decided to sit her down instead.

“Mmmm . . . ” she moaned, stifling a sniffle. “I wanna see mamma.”

Light seized. I wanna . . . see mamma. “Flaura . . . I . . .”

“It’s not your problem,” she blurted inoffensively. “It’s not your fault. I should have not said that.”

“But I’m grateful that you did—Flaura, you want to see your mother?”

“I insist. But I can’t. I do not have the power to.”

“You do not have the power to and you don’t know what to do,” Lightning agreed, “but there is something that you want. You do not know how to do it or if you even can, but there is an agenda here. You came up to me and said you have something important to say. But you didn’t want to say anything in the last minute. You showed me your honest thoughts right here on the spot, trying to get away . . . This is something about me, isn’t it?”

Struck her the lightning did, her head a boiling teacup filled with embarrassment, ready to blow at a second given. She hesitated his look, but nonetheless stared at his hind, sitting legs. He awaited a response.

“Yes,” she spurted. “This is something of you and I.”

“About the temple dates and such.”

“Mmmm.”

Light informed calmly, “I’ll give you time if you want; it looks like you need it. Just know that I’ll be in the other room, only ready if you’re ready, got it?”

“No, wait! I don’t want you to leave; when had I ever stated a thing of that? Please, you can stay here with me, you know—fun!”

“Okay, then. I’ll stay.”

“Yes. Stay. I want you to stay.”

And so forth they stayed there. Flaura didn’t have her forelegs crossed, but she kept her limbs close to herself, as in trying to hide the rest of her body, looking so vulnerable. It was odd seeing her like this. Light thought it strange.

“Lightning, there’s . . . there is no doubt you can perceive of a problem with anyone. I don’t know how you do it, but nevertheless . . . thank you. I want to thank you.”

“You’re thanking . . . me?”

“I am. I have wanted to.”

“Then I have to thank you too, Flaura. Thank you.”

“Why?”

“For being here, with me. I said that it would mean the world to me if you’d stay, and you’re still here! There were times when you could’ve ran away, and even in despair, you ultimately decided to let me help you. I cannot thank you enough.”

She smiled at him for that, him smiling back, a piece of mane on a fall from her bun. Flaura held her cheeky mien and looked at his down.

“I cannot believe you have wanted to help me, in times like these. It’s something that I cannot pay back fully, albeit I said fully, so I am able to pay a part of it.” She took his hoof. “And now I recall you say a thing of taking your hoof.”

Flaura, with a suppleness, twirled his hoof around hers. Light played along, feeling her beige coat, very soft. Her smile was now sad, his eyes glimmering so bright. Flaura wrapped her forelegs around his neck, shoving her snivelling nose near his scruff. “I am not from this time,” she shakily whispered, “I am from four hundred years ago. I was that damnable painting for the time whole, and now . . . I don’t know who I am.”

It all made sense.

“I merely . . . Light, I’m so alone,” she sobbed. “I don’t know who I am anymore. Am I still Flaura? Why am I here? Why do I exist still? Why do I suffer still? Is there a reason for me being here? Can . . . can I go home?”

Light only swathed her back with the forelegs of his own. It was the only gesture he thought was appropriate at the time. She sniffled into his coat, and so did he. Light gently stroked her mane. It was the best he could do.

Seventh

Seventh

The alcohol had the same taste as before, like it should, but it felt different. It was as savoury too, but she just didn’t feel like tasting it, and so she let the thing sit there, pending for her to pick it up. Twilight only basked at the candlelight, like many more with her, her head rested on the hard, wooden table. Her mind was set on the dead body of the great noblecolt, and how they desperately tried to get help from anypony. And whilst they didn’t help, to the aura and the like they firmly fixed their expressions of belief—that some unknown force lifted him up and made him disappear. Sir Palladium told of murders similar to it being a trend of some sort, and that the method of killing had been the same: a neck snapped, lifting him or her up and neatly arranging the body like a responsible child with his toy after play.

“I shall take care of it,” he had told them at the scene, “and find whoever has the audacity to mess with us.” The conceit he exuded made her proud of something she will not even do, and she really liked that.

“I realise something, princess,” she said after a while, Luna merely looking like she collected the thoughts of her own. She set her drink down.

“And what may that be?”

“All the murders they said took place were of important figures: noblecolts and noblemares and scientists and wizards, particularly the Rosa family.”

“Interesting,” she replied simply. “Nopony lower than their ranks have been murdered, from the knowledge I cite.”

“Yes, and to my suspicion, it’s either somepony from a lower rank who’s doing this for any reason or a noble doing an inside job. I think it’s the latter.”

Luna knocked over her mug suddenly. No one there seemed to mind. “Or it could be the reason we’re here.”

Twilight’s jaw loosed.

“Twilight, Death’s mane is of the colour red. A shining, beautiful palette of red that brighten her black coat. Even being a pegasus, she had the power of magic, magic we know not of, and that magic so happens to be of the same colour as her mane.”

“I . . . princess, you’re saying she did it?”

“That’s what I believe, that I am sure of.”

“Alright, we got that straight. So, we’re assuming Death had a part in this, and yet we don’t know why she would . . .”

“We may never know that,” Luna said. She waved both hooves near her head. “But that matters not. We just need to stop whatever she may have in plan. If she’s not involved in this, then she’s involved in something else.”

“And how do we exactly do that, princess? We can’t stop her because we have no magic, and even if we had it would be pointless! She’s just invincible.”

“All hope may seem lost, but there never is a time that it actually is. Recall the time I said what her weakness was.”

“She can’t read any minds.”

“Precisely.”

“But I don’t really see how that would do anything, princess. I don’t understand.”

“That is the point not of what I said. The point I’m trying to make is that there will be hope, in any situation. There must be another weakness in her.”

“I guess that makes sense, yeah. Thank you, princess.”

“I am glad. Now, we’re going to have to get to her.”

“But how do we do it, and what will happen?”

“ . . . We will see. Even I can’t be certain, but for now, we focus on finding her, confronting her.” Luna nodded. “She made a very intricate path for us to go down on, I am sure. We shall traverse until the end.”

“Do you think we’re ever going to find Lightning, Luna?”

The tension swiftly entered with the wind—from the front door. And the former was much strong that it could be cut with a butter knife, like the ones they have on the bar—a plentiful, plentiful bunch, waiting to be used.

“I am not so certain of that, I need to say.”

“Okay, then.”

Twilight saw a little filly running by their table, a doll on her hand. She giggled as she maneuvered out of a colt’s grasp, apparently chasing her, with a great determination to take back the doll from her grasp, it seemed. The two were yelling something to each other, and she had no idea what it meant.

“I remember Light’s velveteen rabbit,” she told without a mind in her tone, “and he used to play with it a lot.”

“How, exactly?”

“He would talk to it for long periods of time. I thought of it as weird at first, but I would see why a pony like him would do so.”

“What would he talk to him about?” Luna enquired.

“Anything he would want, really. That’s what he told me. But . . . I think he talks to him because he wants to release his thoughts and such. That’s how I see it.”

“He?”

“He, princess. The rabbit is a he.”

“Oh. Well, if that is the case, he is a he, then.”

Twilight managed a soft chuckle as the two foals appeared and rounded the tables, more and more, having not a care in the world. They were free and happy.

“Don’t you think Lighting’s an oddball?”

“I think of him as that, judging from what I know.”

“I do too. But there’s something about him that makes me . . . how should I say it—come back, you know? It’s very intriguing.”

“Odd may he be—and intriguing—it does not mean he’s not interesting, to say the least. I sure do hope we find him.”

“As do I, princess. As do I.”

Luna sipped a drink whilst looking at the window. “We should check on Tyche Valentina. I have a feeling . . . Did you see her face, Twilight Sparkle? Did you see the horror when she found out?”

Twilight’s ears flopped. “Yeah, I remember.”

The princess plopped her drink on the table. “If Death will not do harm to her, then she herself may. I do not want to go to a guard’s outpost once more to report any death, nor do I want to inform the news like wildfire.”

“The media will be the media, no matter what era they live in, I suppose.”

Luna snorted at that.

The estate was with green fields, made of multiple buildings, and there was no other pony in sight. Posts of guards were present, but they had been abandoned. Twilight heard from rumours that she had been isolating herself, relinquishing even the most necessary people, making her home feel quiet. And yet this quiet wasn’t the quiet Twilight wanted. It was more of a scary kind— haunting.

They managed to get to inside. The door was left open, and they realised the lock was not there. The torches that flanked the hallways gleamed a deep orange, and they produced the only sound. The windows revealed the outside world, a pit and a void. Twilight opened the first door she saw. Nothing. Then the other. Nothing, too. Soon she sweeper the hallway, almost all doors opened once done. There was nopony here.

The two headed out front and began to circle the massive estate. They passed a paneless window, and a shadow danced around. It turned out to be a black curtain. They passed another window to find nothing. Then the third. After that the fourth. A thing’s shattering sound easy filled the night’s ambience.

Twilight heard the whimper of a mare, a very scared yet peaceful whimper. It was accepting, but it could not believe whatever was happening, that’s what it felt like. To be honest, she was of the same, and Luna was as well. They all were. The two crouched by the opening.

“Death,” a voice said, “is the start of peace.”

“The start of peace it is for me, albeit for others? It is not. It is only regret—regret that cannot be satisfied.” It was the voice of Tyche Valentina.

“Problems they own need be justified by themselves; why ought we save them from their own suffering?”

“Thou believe of it not, I say. You do not even know what thou say of, I say, I say!” Tyche groaned loudly suddenly, panting heavily.

“What of that thou said? Repeat it, I dare of thee. Repeat it to me, right between my eyes. Thou know I could do it right now.”

“Whatever would happen if I did?”

“The question important more is what would happen to the rest of them,” she said. “It is very clear that thou are against my beliefs, no? If that is—and it is—then I should very well say to thee of the fates of the others . . . and the oneswho have met their destinies . . .”

“T—the murders . . . no. No, no . . . no, thou did not . . . Antonio . . .”

“Who else could have done it, I ask of you? Who else could have done this all?!” There was a gut-wrenching blow, followed by a desperate gasp.

“P—please, why are thou doing this, I beg, I beg!”

“I reveal not my secrets,” the voice said after a long silence. “I do not show what I think or who I am, for I only am, and always will be. Thy time is short, so savour these moments last. Savour it before peace.”

“I want not peace,” Tyche said. “I only want the thought that everypony else is.”

“They will be in peace too. But there ought to be more to invite them, no?”

“I . . .”

“Of the topic we last had, it is under my suspicion thou care of what might ought happen to the rest, am I right? Now I present you with a choice: be in peace or let them be in peace.”

“I want peace! I want peace! Let them stay out of this, please!”

“Thou have a choice not.” There was a loud smack. “Thou cannot choose the last time you breathe. Even if mere mortals think they have the power to move that time, it is already determined by logic. Not by me, not by ponies, not by anypony. It is an illusion made by the power of thy ignorance. But nevertheless, peace will come to thee—wait and seat, and thou shall see.”

Twilight peeked on over a little.

Death was there, her mane swaying peacefully, inappropriate for a time like this. She clutched Tyche upwards like she was just some random item. She whimpered. She gasped. She sobbed.

Death took her off the ground with her red magic, holding her limbs and torso in place, like she was laying with her legs out on a flat plane. The wiht levitated a knife. It was beautiful. Very beautiful. Pristine. And massive too, like a sword, with a very sharp edge, an edge so sharp it looked not possible. She meticulously aligned it to her jaw, placing in a way so it would theoretically slash downwards to her pelvis.

“My methods were of a nature similar. But I reserved something special for thee.”

“Make it quick,” she stated with a proud finality, closing her eyes. “Let it be done.”

“I intend to savour this moment. Do not say that to me, now. I shall be honest: I did not enjoy the deaths of the others, but for thee? I am in a whole new ecstasy. Make thyself comfortable, for the show is about to begin.”

She sunk the blade to her flesh, sprouting a rivulet of blood, its move a crawl down her neck. Tyche tried to scream, but she was silenced by Death’s red glow. She shushed her, caressing her cheek. “We need not anypony hearing us, do thou agree?” The wiht allowed the cold metal to travel downwards, creating a divide leaking of blood. It was done in a way where it was not so deep in her skin—in fact it should not be terribly painful, but that did not seem to matter from the expression on Tyche’s face. She ended the incision at her bottom, then staring between her eyes. Tyche’s tears dropped from her face along with blood, transparent white and red coming down together in unison.

Death let her mouth go. Tyche retched slightly in horror at the sight of her body. Her way of purge was to breathe a ragged breath and a desperate gag. She sobbed softly. Death kissed her cheek softly, saying, “It shall be alright. Thy end is coming soon. But thou need to wait.”

She gently grabbed a foreleg, circling her wrist with the blade. Tyche moaned in pain as a response. She tried to get out of her grasp, but it was no use. She was staying here. She was.

Death was done with her second foreleg, and if imagination were to be used, it seemed she wore two bloody bracelets, forged from incisions. Death asked her a question. “Which is painful more: the physical form or the thought that you may never see them again?” She started on her third limb. “Even if thou do escape, they shall not; that I promise thee.” Death finished her cut. “And even if thou do escape from me tonight, then thou shall never be free, forever.” Blood leaked from her last, a little more hastily cut if compared to others. It bled more gruesomely.

Death grabbed her foreleg with no mercy. That earned a groan from Tyche. “Look at thee—so vulnerable and afraid. Mere mortals understand not of what will happen to them. They think they have the power to do anything.” She stuck the blade to a spot on the last incision, bringing it down to her chest. The long cut ended at her other foreleg, creating a steady stream. It was in the shape of a cross. A deathly cross.

Death started to cut something similar to her hind legs. She reached the edge of one of her teats and stared at it for a moment, her face expressionless. Death was fast when she moved through the both of them, but on Tyche’s end, it must’ve felt like an eternity, a hundred years of agony. The slice ended on her other hind leg.

Tyche had the audacity to peel her eyes open, to see what has become of her, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted to predict what will become of her. Soon. It’s like she knew what was going to happen, what Death will do to her, and how long it would take.

“Did thou know of a fact? I shall inform you: the coat, the skin is a vital organ, as important as the heart, the gut, anything else in there that thou may need to survive, to live. Without them, thou will die. And the skin happens to be the organ that covers thee. That protects thee. I shall expose thy inner body, so it too could see the outer world, and so thou can feel the vulnerability of no outer layer. Shall we start?”

Tyche disagreed feebly. Death grabbed her head, making her nod—nod enthusiastically, like she wanted it like no other thing.

“Yes? Then we’ll get started.”

Death hoisted her higher, dangling her as if she was no more than a piece of meat in the marketplace. She pinched a cut on a hind leg, starting to peel her skin off while she was alive.

The skin removed in a way that the process was slow, and yet Death looked like she had no struggle. The sound it made was like tape being removed from a surface, and yet the wetness of it made it all the more natural. Death had to grasp the poor mare with an iron grip, already thrashing violently. Tyche was screaming as loud as she can. “Thou need be silent. Stop acting like a babe. A filly’s resistance would do not a justice to thee.” The chunk of skin fell to dangle, still attached to her, the blood gushing from it intense. More came from her herself. Death started to tug on her other hind leg’s skin. An ocean of red came pouring out. The wiht let an aura cover her legs, partly on the one she was working on. “We need not let thou die so early, no? I shall stop the blood for thee.” Tyche squirmed uncomfortably as her grip tightened. The other piece dangled lifelessly.

Next was the torso, a big part of the body that definitely had a lot of skin. Death tore her coat from two places she grabbed, opening it steadily like a cardigan. She didn’t use magic—it would interrupt the process. Tyche used this opportunity to struggle. That disturbed Death’s procedure. Her tearing was messier now, more blood leaking and the tender sound of tendons and muscle and skin making Tyche belch and cause her more pain and misery. She could only help herself for so long, retching in her own mouth, eventually the vomit coming out and dripping on her exposed muscles. Slowly but surely was the fact that her nerves were being ripped, and it was definitely not a clean process—they are torn to be mere shreds. Tyche would feel all of it. It’s the most painful thing she has experienced, no doubt in that, and surely will. She spurted out blood.

Death finished peeling off her front. Now it was time to take out the back. She pulled the bottom upwards, the sound only being the second loudest after Tyche’s despairing yelp. Her legs buckled restlessly, violently trying to escape by instinct.

The oversized jacket that was her skin blanketed her, unattached, moving slowly. The wind was strong all of the sudden, and to this she shivered.

Death gently lifted her chin with a hoof, their noses only three inches apart. Tyche cannot look at her, not after what she’s done, but that did not matter to Death, for she made her look at her, forcing her eyelids open.

“I—It’s cold . . . It f—feels so cold . . .”

“It has been fun, Tyche Valentina, but unfortunately this could not last. I wished it lasted forever, but that cannot be. Farewell.”

The knife appeared out of nowhere, stabbing her at the chest several times. At this she did not even say a word. Tyche just let it be, taking it with the last strength she will ever have, from the adrenaline her heart forced.

Death let go of her magic, letting her frail being drop down. Blood rained everywhere. It was both amazing and disgusting to see how much of it came from the mare. There was a lot of matter in one’s body, and Twilight discovered it to be a truth she did not want to accept.

Tyche’s head faced down, her mouth and nose under her own liquids. She was still breathing, but there was no attempt to escape or to do anything. She just accepted it.

The mare breathed for the last time.