“Well ain't that just a darn inconvenience.”
Lemon Butter stood in front of her wagon, watching the caravan slowly slide down onto its side, the heavy wheel popped almost completely off. It was an easy fix, but it required much more strength than she had in her body. She was going to be stuck here for a while. She just had to hope the first ponies that stopped by would be helpful instead of a nuisance like bandits or raiders. Sighing, she sat down in the dust, scanning the horizon hopefully for the tell tale dust cloud of an approaching caravan. Nothing. Even worse, the sky was creeping slowly from a hazy light to an evening glow, which meant that the night critters would be coming out soon. Looks like she was camping right here tonight. Lemon groaned, dusting off her flank as she dug into her wagon. She'd need a fire, and dinner. Nothing fancy if it's just herself, a can o’ beans would do just fine. Putting together the campfire, she spread out her daisy patterned sleeping roll. It was showing a little wear, so while her beans were slowly bubbling away Lemon pulled out a repair kit and got to work. She was soon absorbed in the methodical pull of the needle and thread, barely seeming to notice when a small caravan pulled up beside her broken wagon.
“You alright, ma'am?”
Startled, Lemon let out a dainty gasp and ducked behind her wagon, hiding from a group of travelling stallions.
“Ah'm fine thank you!” Her small voice shook as she bravely levelled a very elderly, rusted shotgun, the muzzle mostly blocked by dirt. The stallions took one look at the state of her gun and her wagon, the single can of beans on the fire, and glanced at each other. One of them, by the looks of it, the merchant who owned the caravan, stepped forward.
“We mean you no harm, ma'am.” Pulling his own weapons off his body, he popped them all on the ground and kicked them away. “We can see y'all might be needing a little help with your wagon there. Tell you what, we will turn around and you can go run and hide with your valuables, and we will fix your wagon then be on our way. No harm, no fuss. Sound good?”
The shotgun tip wavered, then dipped in a small nod.
“Promise you won't steal mah wagon? She's all Ah got.”
The sweet, southern lilt of her accent and her shy trust brought a delighted flush to the merchant's cheeks.
“Yes ma'am. Swear on this here caravan, no harm will come to you nor your things. We just can't leave a young lady stranded out here. Ain't right. Ponies gotta help ponies.”
Nervously, Lemon stepped out from behind her wagon, lowering the decrepit shotgun and giving the caravan a shy smile.
“Momma always said any stallion who swears on his livelihood cain't be a bad pony. No hidin’ necessary, sir.”
The merchant ducked his head, hiding his smile from the others.
“I'm no sir. You can call me Smokey Pokes.”
“Lemon Butter.” Tentatively, she stepped forward and shook his hoof, her small yellow and brown hoof tiny compared to his own. Looking up at the handsome merchant, a small blush graced her own cheeks. They stepped awkwardly away from each other, and Smokey cleared his throat.
“Well then, I'd s'pose we'd better get started then. C'mon fellas, hop to it!”
On his command, the stallions fanned out around her small wagon, hoisting it from the ground so Smokey could buck the wheel straight back onto the wagon. One of the stallions pulled a small nut from his saddlebag, and Smokey screwed it onto the wheel, pinning it in place.
“There you go, Miss Butter. Easy as pie fix, no harm done.”
“Why Mister Pokes! Ya’ll have done an amazin’ job! How can Ah thank you?” Lemon circled her wagon, marvelling at the fixed wheel.
“No thanks needed, Miss Butter, though we wouldn’t say no to any extra rad-away if you got some. Happy to trade for it.”
“Nonsense! You can have the rad-away, Ah have a spare dozen. Consider it payment for fixin’ mah here wagon. An’ tell yah what, Ah’ll even cook you boys up a fine feast. It’s the least Ah c’n do to not send ya’ll away on an empty stomach.” Lemon paused from where she had dove headfirst into her wagon, peering back over her rump at the group of travellers. “You will camp t’night, won’t ya?”
Smokey reluctantly shook his head. “We gotta keep moving, got an urgent supply delivery to Appleloosa.”
“Yah cain’t even spare one night t’ let me repay yah? Ah got bacon! Caught and smoked mahself.” Lemon triumphantly pulled a slab of rad-hog bacon from her stores, grinning mischievously at Smokey.
The grumbling of five stallion bellies was deafening.
“I guess we can stay the night. Appleloosa will understand if bacon is involved.” Smokey grinned as his friends seemed to magically set up camp around the fire in an instant, attentive and prepared for a small feast. A small guitar was strummed, and the mood shifted into a festive one. Bacon was always to be celebrated.
Lemon Butter hummed along to the campfire songs as she pulled together a cohort of delicious looking ingredients from her wagon, moving her now slightly burnt beans to the side to make room for bacon, tomato, sweet potato, spinach, even some brahmin milk, cheese and powdered eggs. Expensive supplies, but they were worth it for a delicious frittata for the boys who had saved her from being stranded. Surveying her ingredients, she slipped a small jar from her bag.
“What’s that?” Smokey had snuck up behind her, interested in what the pretty mare was cooking up for them.
“Jus’ some herbs an’ spices my momma always used t’ swear by. Goes amazin’ with frittata. Wanna smell?” She smiled up at him, and saw a returning smile spread across his muzzle. It had fallen truly dark by now, and his coat glistened dark in the firelight, surrounded by music and warmth. He reached out a hoof to touch her face, and she leaned into it, answering his unasked question. They stayed like that for a moment, frozen in each other’s eyes, before a throat clearing loudly interrupted them.
“C’mon boss, it’s time for you to sing something! Stop distracting our chef!”
Smokey stayed a moment more in the moment, before turning back to the group, leaving both their faces flushed and glowing. His walk seemed more of a swagger and his voice began to ring out clear and full. Lemon Butter turned back to her cooking, a happy smile still on her face. He was very handsome, and she felt a deep pull towards him. Tonight would be interesting.
The bacon and frittata went down a treat. The travellers even managed to dig up some sasparilla and were now taking turned reliving their adventures in enthusastic pantomime, goading each other on. Lemon snuggled up closer to Smokey, enjoying his warmth and scent. He smiled down at her, pulling her closer.
“I never asked, what were you doin’ out so far all alone?”
“Ah was huntin’. Got a bit distracted and well, yah saw mah wagon.”
“Mmm. I’m glad we came along. You should come with us to Appleloosa, we can always fit one more.”
“Ah’d like that.”
Turning her face to his, she allowed him to pull her into a deep kiss full of promise. Whoops and cheers accompanied them as they pulled apart, and they got up to rejoin the festivities into the evening.
Slowly, one by one, the stallions dropped off to their bedrolls and settled in for the night, each of them falling into the deep sleep of the well fed. Smokey sent a look to Lemon, receiving a nod in return. She’d join him soon, but first she had to check her caravan for the night.
She watched him lay down, and soon he was also deeply asleep. Lemon was almost ready for her evening plans, though before she could continue she had to test something. Pulling a large cowbell from her bag, she stood in the centre of the sleeping camp and dropped it. The bell let out an enormous pell, ringing through the sleeping camp. Lemon held her breath, but nothing happened. Snoring was the only noise. Picking up the bell again, she rang it three times as hard as she could, the deafening sound hurting her ears. Pausing, the noise faded into the evening and she waited, listening. Nothing else greeted her but the sound of sleeping stallions. Momma’s sleeping powder never failed. Mixed into the frittata under the disguise of herbs and flavour, they had all eaten a giant portion, barely noticing that she was quietly eating her slightly burnt beans.
Dropping the bell with a loud clang, she went around to each bedroll, giving each pony a swift kick, waiting to see if they awoke. When she was certain they were all asleep, she got to work. Stripping the campers of their possessions, she tied each of them up and dragged them into a pile, covering them with a tarp. With the stallions taken care of, Lemon Butter moved all of her things from her wagon into their caravan, then hit a switch on her wagon to collapse it completely. Stowing that into the caravan as well, she cleared the campsite of anything even remotely of value, leaving not even a scrap behind. Pulling a well cared for gun from her saddlebag, she slipped it into a holster on her hoof.
She had been tailing this caravan for weeks, learning their route and their habits. Lemon knew they were delivering a massive payload of spark batteries and weapons to Appleloosa, of which would fetch a very pretty price with her associate at Fillydelphia. She knew the merchant was an honourable fellow, so kind and soft hearted, recruiting and hiring anyone with the right sob story. A helpless mare on the side of the road was perfect for his pathetic hero complex. Such a waste of such a good looker. Hitching herself up to the stolen caravan, she began the long trek back east, her strong earth pony legs handling the heavy caravan easily.
The travelling teacher hired by the Mayor smiled encouragingly at the small class of unicorn foals, and Noir felt a tremor of excitement. This was their first magic lesson, and she was certain she would get her cutie mark in awesome powerful magic!
“Now remember how I told you. Find the light within, and push the light into your horn. You’ll feel some pressure, but that is just because it is your first time. Every unicorn has their own well of magic, and it gets easier to use with practise.”
Noir closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she reached inside herself for that tiny glowing ball of ‘something’. It felt good, warm and it strangely smelled of cotton candy. She began to pull on it, then pushed the warm light into her horn, imagining lifting the pencil in front of her. More motes of light joined the one inside her, each a different colour and glowing. She found her own light pulling those lights slowly into it, some of them winking out completely, others fading as their light was pulled in. It was like a sea of small stars inside her and they all were made of magic! She could feel a deep pressure in her horn, like someone was trying to squeeze it really really hard, and pushed even harder. Her face scrunched up, and she tried to pull more of the light into her horn.
She felt a pop, like a dam breaking, and opened her eyes to see the pencil floating in front of her surrounded by sparkling grey magic. She had done it! Noir could almost feel like she was cradling the pencil in her own hooves, but instead she made it zoom around her. Magic was awesome! She giggled, floating the pencil back and forth around her.
The teacher let out a groan, and Noir finally looked up, her green eyes widening in horror. Every unicorn in the classroom had collapsed, pale and sweating. The cutie marks of those that had them were fading before her very eyes, other's coats her becoming washed out. Some of them were strangely still, their bodies grey and empty looking. Noir let out a shriek in horror, trying to drop the pencil but instead the magic inside her began to glow even brighter, absorbing more of the glowing motes of light..
“Help me!” she cried, trying to run away from the pencil.
“Cut the stream inside you! Imagine a big pair of scissors and cut!” The teacher gasped out weakly, her cutie mark slowly beginning to fade.
Noir closed her eyes again, imagining a big pair of red handled blade slicing through the biggest cold and terrifying light inside her. Sobbing in fear, she hacked at it over and over until she felt the pressure in her horn release and the pencil clatter to the floor. The lights within her all faded away leaving only her own, now pulsing with new swirls of colour that felt wrong on a level she couldn’t explain. Noir curled into a ball, too terrified to open her eyes. She heard more adults crash into the room, drawn by her scream. She listened to their whispering, their cries of dismay as they checked her friends for signs of life, curling her tail around herself to hide from their terrified murmurs. She heard the scream of a mother and found herself behind hurled against a wall. Terrified, she looked into the grief maddened eyes of a Toffee’s mom.
“Give it back! You give her back right now!” Spittle landed on Noir’s face, and terror spiked into her heart at the thought she may have killed tiny Toffee Crisp. She nodded, frantically trying to pull the swirls of strange colour from the ball inside her, but it wouldnt let them go. Instead they pulsed brightly then vanished into her own light.
“I can’t,” she choked out. “It won’t let me.”
The mare dropped her, sobbing as she slipped back onto the floor cradling Toffee in her forelegs. Noir stared around the room, taking in the weak and pale teacher sipping at a water bottle, the shaking and sweaty foals, some of the foals were grey and still. She did this. Her magic took from them. The cotton candy light inside her was nothing but poison.
Her mother skidded into the room, her panicked eyes taking in Noir’s stricken face and the bodies sprawled on the floor. Her face paled and she tried to scoop Noir up, but Noir screamed and cowered away, shivering in terror.
“Don’t touch me! I’ll eat your magic too!” Noir curled into the smallest ball she could, the tears hot and wet upon her cheeks. Magic was supposed to be fun, not this. Anything but this.
A gravelly and sickly sounding voice rasped through the room. “She has void magic.” The teacher looked gravely down at the shivering foal. “She cannot create magic on her own and instead rips it from those around her. I haven’t seen this anywhere but in books.”
“Can she be cured?” Her mother asked softly, a hoof barely brushing Noir’s mane, as if she feared making the contact with her own daughter.
“Not that I know of. She will only ever be able to perform void magic.” The teacher pulled on the bottle of water again. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but she can never do magic without sucking out that of those around her.”
“They aren’t dead,” Another voice joined the chorus of concerned murmurs. The nurse. Noir breathed a sigh of relief. “The foals are alive, but barely. Their magic is almost gone but they will live.”
“I see.” A deep, feminine voice said coldly. The mayor had joined them at some point, and Noir began shaking. She knew that tone, the mayor was only that serious when a Really Bad Pony was going to be Punished. “Is there truly no cure?”
“Void magic users are rare, and it’s usually a result of radiation or some other poison. She can’t make her own magic, and will pull magic from everyone, regardless of if they have horns or not. If they don’t have much magic t’ begin with, she’ll kill them.”
There was a shuffle of hooves and a soft presence knelt near Noir and her mother. “I am sorry, Petit, but Noir will have to leave. We can’t have a Void in our town, we have sick ponies here. Perhaps she can find her place out in the wasteland, away from other ponies.”
Noir felt her heart grow cold at those words, the pain that threatened to envelop her growing numb at the shock. The wasteland? It was full of monsters!
“She could wear a magic suppression ring! There has to be something! She didn’t kill anyone!” Mama still hadn’t touched her.
The teacher gave a long sigh. “The suppression ring would only amplify her power, I’m afraid. Void magic doesn’t follow the usual magic laws. Our magic will return eventually, thank Celestia. She didn’t kill anyone this time, but next time she may not be so lucky.”
“She can’t give Toffee’s magic back! The Void needs to leave! Or I will force her to leave!” Toffee’s mama shrieked, her tears softly falling to the floor.
“I won’t let you throw my child to the wasteland! It’ll kill her!”
“Her staying here will kill us!”
The mayor stepped between the screaming mares, her voice soft but firm. “Petit, Void needs to leave. You can stay or go, but she will not be welcomed within these walls past sundown.” She paused, almost as if she didn’t want to say the next words but had to. “If she is still here past then, I will give the order to shoot on sight. I must protect my town.”
Noir stood up, the ponies around her pulling back in fear. Even her own Mama recoiled from her in case she touched her, pain burning in her eyes. Mama was always scared of the wasteland, and now Noir had to be brave to protect her from being thrown out of her home. Her legs trembled, and so did her voice.
“Mama, I am Void. I don’t belong here, you do. Maybe I belong somewhere else. Maybe there is someone out there who can fix me. But I can’t stay.” she looked sadly at Toffee's still form, her heart breaking at what she had done. Her legs threatened to collapse but she locked her knees, trying to retain some dignity. “Can I take some stuff like food and my toys?”
The Mayor nodded. “Of course. We aren’t evil. I will guide you to what you need.” Meaning ‘I will make sure you leave this town myself’. Noir could read what her words really meant.
She paused, looking back at the room of terrified and tired ponies. She looked at her mother’s face, as if trying to memorise every hair. “I love you, Mama. I’m sorry. Be good.” Petit burst into fresh tears as Noir fled from the room, the Mayor following after.
* * *
Noir shoved supplies into her bag, the Mayor pulling food and water rations out for her to pack. Stinging tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them back.
“I’m sorry, Noir.” The mayor said quietly.
“S’ok. Just take care of Mama, she’s been sad a lot since Papi died.”
“I will.”
Noir latched her saddlebags closed, looking around the dingy makeshift home put together with scraps and remnants of the past. It wasn’t much but it was the only home she had ever known.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Together they walked towards the gate, the Mayor signalling towards the guards to open it. They looked confused as to why a foal was being sent out alone, but they complied anyway, tugging on the ropes that pulled open the heavy scrap metal gates. The gates swung wide and Noir stepped through them on trembling hooves, the wasteland brown and empty before her. She looked back to see the mayor’s tearful face as the gate’s began to close.
“Congratulations,” The mayor said sadly. “You got your cutie mark.”
Noir looked down as the gate slammed shut to find a black hole on her flank, cracks rippling out from it. Her saddlebags thumped down in the dust, as she sagged against the gate sobbing, her legs finally giving out. She had almost killed her friends, her Mama couldn’t bear to touch her, and now she had a cutie mark that showed the world what she was. A void mark for a void pony. How did it come to this? She felt hollow. This wasn't fair. Dimly she heard the Mayor’s voice through the gate, speaking to the guards.
“Her magic is toxic to anyone around her. If she is still here at dusk, put her out of her misery. But do it quietly, I don’t want any more panic.”
“Yes Ma’am!”
Her ears sagged and she steeled her heart. She had to survive, had to find a way to get rid of this magic. Until then, she had no right to this town, this life or even her name. The pony now known as Void stepped forward onto the road, the wasteland sprawling before her hooves.
