Concerning Changelings and Other Matters
Concerning Changelings and Other Matters
Opening a brand new box of books was something of a euphoric experience for Twilight Sparkle. The crackling of cardboard as she cut it open with a blade sounded like a heavenly choir welcoming her paper offerings into the world. The smell of new books, crisp and fresh, rivaled the must of even the oldest tomes of her collection in how it made her head spin.
The start of autumn had brought with it a nearly-unending series of new book boxes she and Spike meticulously undid together, to the Dragon’s great dismay, who often eclipsed himself shortly after starting, and spent more time trying to find the books Rarity had ordered than actually helping out Twilight with the mountains of new arrivals. She was on the final box, and enjoyed the activity alone, away from Spike, who was still sleeping.
“You’re going here.” She sang-sung to herself while sorting the books into piles. The first one, a heavy, leatherbound volume, went to her ‘bedtime reading’ pile, where it crashed on the ground and lifted dust.
“And you,” she said with an excited flutter of her ears, “are going there.”
She took out a smaller, green book. It was unmarked, but she knew exactly what it was. Concerning Changelings and Other Matters. The slim treaty slid down to the floor, right next to her, in an almost reverential manner. It was a forbidden tome from Princess Celestia’s own personal library. The twisted words of a crazed mage of old. Lesser Unicorns had gone mad from the words contained within the parchment pages. But after what had happened at her brother’s wedding, Twilight would have gone mad twice and even more if it meant preventing another disaster of this magnitude. Celestia leaving it unsecured among the rest of the book pile didn’t quite sit right with her, but then again, the only one who would have had access to it was Twilight herself. The Unicorn almost got up and installed herself to read it right there and then, but resolved herself to finish classing her books first.
She went to lift another volume out of the box, but the golden gleam of Concerning Changelings And Other Matters caught her gaze. It teased her from the corner of her eye, begging to be opened.
“Then again, I could delegate,” she mumbled under her breath. She touched the soft cover with a hoof, and the velvety feeling sent shivers of restlessness coursing through her. There was no way she could focus on classing the others with that one calling out to her.
“Spike!” She waited for the pitter patter of the Dragon’s feet to sound through the library, but the air stayed still.
“Spike, I need you right now!” She frowned. It wasn’t like him to ignore her. Usually, when he did, it was because a comic book had hooked him to its pages, and the light rustling of the pages in the echoey library would eventually betray him. She lent her ear to the silence and waited for the telltale sound.
Her heartbeat sounded like a drum in the still air. She tried to focus, tried to ignore the worry that settled inside her with every second her mind spun the silence into a terrible thought or another. Memories of monsters and twisted creatures kidnapping her and her friends, chasing them, pushing them nearer and nearer to the end came to her. The pounding slowly rose in a crescendo, harder, faster. She licked her lips, her mouth drying by itself as her breathing picked up, the image of a shadow spiriting away Spike in his bed flashing over her thoughts.
She shook her head, and the images vanished. Everything was not demented Alicorns and gods of chaos and Changeling queens.
Although with the frequency of her and her friends’ encounters with such creatures…
She steeled herself and trotted to the stairs with purpose. Her mind was focused on a single thing: give Spike the verbal smackdown of his life if he was still sleeping so late in the day.
Anything to keep her thoughts away from her own fear.
The library creaked and groaned in the still air. She had never really noticed before how noisy the library was in dead silence. It had always made the sounds of wood settling, but never with this intensity, with such deafening cracks and snaps every time she put her weight on one of the stairs’ steps.
“Spike?” She tried as she reached the top of the stairs. She froze, and the whole world stopped for a second.
His basket was empty.
Like a well-oiled machine, her brain pushed a cog back into place, and her gears started again. She blinked as her mind reflexively pushed away the unwanted thoughts that screamed inside her.
“He’s probably gone to take a walk.”
She had spoken out loud, although she stood alone in the room darkened by the gathering clouds outside. Her eyes scanned the bedchamber in a split second. Nothing on or under the bed. Nothing hiding behind the bedside table. The window was untouched.
She hesitated on top of the stairs before heading down, a feeling of something missing creeping up her spine. She trotted past the open box of books, magicked her saddlebag on her back, slid Concerning Changelings And Other Matters inside — no need for anypony to accidentally stumble upon it while she was gone — and went out the door, shutting it behind her without locking it. She would be out for just a minute, the time to confirm Spike was all right. No need to stress out.
Even as she told herself that, her heartbeat pulsed in her ears, her quickened blood running cold. Or maybe that was just the weather. The Pegasi had arranged a thick cover of clouds overhead to block out the sun and get the land ready for the Running of the Leaves. The dull grey of the sky seemed to bleed into Ponyville, the normally smiling townsfolk watching her pass without a wave or a hello. The bright architecture looked like a washed out watercolour. The smell of ozone drowned out the usual smells of baked goods and flowers that permeated the town.
Before she even had realized it, her steps took her to Carousel Boutique. Rarity’s imposing residence and workplace towered over the surrounding area. The purple banners adorning the shop shivered and shook in the rising wind, casting lulling, hypnotic shadows on the walls under them, like the place itself was asleep. Twilight hesitated on the doorstep and peeked around at a window. If Rarity had taken the day off to rest, Spike wouldn’t have gone there to disturb her. However, despite its darkened exterior, a faint light shone inside the upper floor of the Boutique from a slightly ajar window. Far from the gigantic array of spots Rarity used on the clock, the soft glow was more akin to a desk lamp or a candelabrum. If Rarity was awake, she wasn’t working.
Twilight couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen Rarity inside Carousel Boutique not busying herself with clothes or patterns. She could have been working on such a pattern at her desk, but it was in her study upstairs, and not downstairs.
Twilight knocked at the door and waited.
For several seconds, she stood there fidgeting in place. The wind rose higher around her, whistling in the reddened trees, moaning in her ears.
She bit her lower lip. If Rarity wasn’t coming, she didn’t want to be disturbed. She turned her back to the Boutique and eyed the swaying trees around her. Autumn didn’t usually start this strong, and the wind was now almost howling a low sigh. She started off toward the Library with dead leaves rustling and whirling around her, catching in her flowing mane, wishing she would have brought a coat with her.
After a few steps, she looked back to the darkened Boutique. Her teeth chattered as the wind blew cold and hard. The sky rapidly darkened. The telltale smell of ozone stung her nose.
A storm was brewing.
“Oh, what the hay.” She banged on the door, each strike more insistent than the last. “Rarity, it’s Twilight! May I come in?”
Silence.
“Rarity!” Her hoof sounded against the wood with a series of dull thuds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “There’s a storm coming, can I—”
She started as the door creaked open before her and a high-pitched voice called from within. “Come on in, Twilight.”
She hurried inside the shaded Boutique. The door clicked behind her, locking the sounds of the coming squall out.
“Sorry my sister didn’t open for you.” Sweetie Belle’s voice said, almost mechanically. The small Unicorn filly stood besides the door with dark rings under her eyes. Her curly pink and purple mane looked oddly washed out in the grey light. Sweetie Belle trotted into the main room and headed for the kitchen. “She doesn’t want to be disturbed. Want a glass of water?”
“Uh, sure?” Twilight watched the filly make her way out of the main room, dragging her hooves like it demanded tremendous efforts on her part. The soft rush of the water tap sounded for a moment, accompanied by the sound of glassware on glassware, and the faint hum of magic.. The main room served as the seamstress’ display room, and was a tight but comfortable place most of the time. A few spotlights surrounded a small stage in the right side, while a dress display and a makeup station neighboured each other on the left side. Hanging drapes and curtains helped to create an illusion of grandeur and majesty. However, that majesty was squashed in the shade, and Twilight couldn’t help but feel like she was intruding in some abandoned showroom.
The only thing she didn’t recognize in the decor was the big brown box in a corner of the room. Fashion magazines and books lay around it. Rarity must have received her order of books a short while ago. It was unlike her to leave such a mess laying around, especially since it looked like a scatter made from a frantic search through the box.
The pitter patter of hooves on carpet took her out of her contemplation. Sweetie Belle came out of the kitchen, carrying a glass of water in her magic. The green glow shone on the curtains like an infection, turning the deep purple of the fabric a sickly red. A shiver overcame Twilight as a twisted face covered in dark chitin and drooping, tattered blue hair forced itself in her mind’s eye, green magic shining on the carapace like flames.
“Are you all right, Twilight?” Sweetie Belle levitated the glass down to Twilight’s hooves, and the older Unicorn took it reflexively.
Twilight blinked to chase away the vision. The muscles in her neck were tensed from fear, and she rubbed at them to relax the knots in them. “I’m fine, I just… No, nevermind.”
Sweetie Belle turned a knowing look to the ground. “I get it. I always forget my magic is green like theirs. She’s having a hard time too, you know.”
“A hard time?”
The wind howled outside, and the Boutique’s wooden sign batted against the wall in a rhythmic thumping, like a knock at the door that begged to be answered. It’s shadow wavered inside the boutique. Sweetie Belle threw a wary look outside and shivered. Twilight cocked her head to the side. Never had Sweetie Belle been afraid of storms before.
“Ever since we came back from your brother’s wedding, she has horrible nightmares.” She added in a small voice. “Me too, actually.”
“Sweetie Belle, I’m so sorry. Truth be told, I’ve been having trouble at night too.”
The filly shook her head. “Not your fault. Anyway, we’ve been seeing that new therapist who moved into town recently. He’s really good. You should go see him sometimes.”
She levitated a small business card to Twilight. The older unicorn put it in her saddlebag without a glance at it. “Thanks, I’ll check that later.”
“Mmhmm.” Sweetie Belle stared at empty space for a moment before focusing back on Twilight, like her brain took time to process what was happening. “I don’t have nightmares anymore.”
Twilight looked her up and down. The filly was in a mess. Her unkempt mane drooped over her dark, sunken eyes, and she swayed slightly in place like she was about to fall over. “You… sleep well?”
“She keeps me awake,” Sweetie Belle whispered. She glanced to the upstairs and back at Twilight. “She doesn’t sleep either.”
Twilight took a few steps in the room. Now that she got a closer look, dust was gathering on Rarity’s sewing apparatus, and cobwebs hung from colourful fabrics like gossamer lace.
“It doesn’t look like she’s been working much either.” She stepped around the ponnequins and prodded at the clothes on them. A thin film of dust puffed in the air.
“She hasn’t.” Sweetie Belle sunk into a chair and yawned. “She barely left her study in a week.”
The white Unicorn had been conspicuously absent since some time. “You haven’t seen her at all?”
“She goes out to eat and then goes back in.” Sweetie Belle shivered in a way that wasn’t lost on Twilight. “She doesn’t even let me in. She doesn’t even comb her mane anymore. And for three days now she hasn’t even come back.”
Twilight turned to the stairs, looking up to where Sweetie Belle had been casting nervous glances. Without the Boutique’s usual lights, a thick darkness filled the staircase. Without the gentle rumbling of the sewing machines that usually came from upstairs, silence blanketed the area, interspersed only by Sweetie Belle’s gentle yawning and Twilight’s heartbeat.
“I wanted to ask her if she’d seen Spike,” Twilight said slowly. “Has he come here?”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. Her curls swayed in the air around her. “I haven’t seen him since he came to bring Rarity the book she’d ordered a week ago.”
“The book?”
Sweetie Belle nodded. “An old book on Prench haute couture. She ordered it with her magazines but the mail ponies said they shipped it with your books instead since it had been held up. It’s one of those old books without a title. You know, the boring ones. She’s been obsessed with it ever since she got it.”
“A book without a title?” Twilight spoke in a hushed voice, dread and realization creeping in her tone.
“It was green like Fluttershy’s favourite dress, but with a weird golden gleam on it.” She wrinkled her nose. “It came with a lock, but Spike undid it easily.”
The strap of Twilight’s saddleback undid itself with a dry sound. Surrounded in a lavender glow, Concerning Changelings And Other Matters floated in front of her.
She opened the cover, and fear seized her heart with the crackle of an old page.
Prench Haute Couture: The Masters
The book fell to the ground with a resounding thud. Twilight charged up the stairs with a whinny of dread, Sweetie Belle close behind.
The door to Rarity’s study burst open with a flash of lavender light and a battering rush of hoofsteps beat the ground in tune with the rumbling of clouds outside.
Purple curtains lashed at the air, shaken by the violent winds outside. On a small desk next to the open window, a green velvet-bound book lay open to the last page.
Lightning crashed down, and a flash of light illuminated the golden letters.
This concludes Concerning Changelings and Other Matters. I pray no one will ever have to gaze upon these cursed pages.
