Comparative Mythology

by Flashgen

Rating: everyone
Tags: Ocellus, Horror, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Young Six
Length: 14718

The Student Six share campfire stories before Nightmare Night.

Sandbar has invited all of his friends from the School of Friendship for a get-together before Nightmare Night. To get into the spirit of the season and learn a bit about each other's races, he decides that they should all share scary stories from their cultures.

Ocellus thinks they seem sort of similar.

Thanks to Petrichord for help with some proofreading and brainstorming.

Published 2019-10-14 19:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-10-19 20:59:00 UTC

Shadow Walkers

The autumn sun was just beginning to set over Ponyville. While some residents were going about their last bits of business for the day, others were setting up festive decorations early. Cobwebs, pumpkins, bats, spiders and all manner of Nightmare Night horrors were being placed in and on the homes and shops of the town, and along the roads. It would have been nice to see the decorations up close, but given that she was nowhere near town, Ocellus was content to view examples of it in the book she had checked out from the school’s library.

Nightmarish Celebrations had been the first thing she’d looked to, on Headmare Twilight’s recommendation, when the topic of the holiday came up. It was a few weeks ago when she first heard about the upcoming holiday, and it was certainly the first time a lot of her friends would be celebrating it. Well, except for Sandbar. There were so many interesting festivities to take part in: costumes, games, candy and treats. Sandbar, though, wanted to do something special before Nightmare Night.

That was why all of them were sitting in a clearing close to the Everfree Forest, around a simple fire pit flanked on all sides by five sturdy logs. As Ocellus flipped through her book, Gallus and Smolder were off near the woods gathering wood for the fire. She could hear them laughing, likely joking with one another as they worked. Yona was sitting at Ocellus’ side, front hooves tapping against the side of the log.

With the sunlight finally dwindling, Ocellus closed her book for the moment. She set it down behind the log, right next to the stack of relevant research material she'd packed, and looked back to Ponyville.

As she looked up, Ocellus caught sight of Silverstream, flying just ahead of Sandbar as the two carried bags of supplies towards the campfire. Silverstream was the first to land on a log opposite of Ocellus, and then fished in one of the bags to pull out a bag of popcorn.

“We got the snacks!” Silverstream proclaimed, before digging into the bag of popcorn as loudly as she could.

Sandbar, doing his best to avoid being covered in flying kernels, set his bags down next to the log furthest from Silverstream’s. He then set to unpacked; it was a veritable smorgasbord by the time that Sandbar was done. Candies, marshmallows, cupcakes, popcorn, caramel popcorn, chocolates, pastries, pies, cakes and even a bag of gemstones for Smolder.

While Yona was busy trying a few cupcakes, Ocellus took a small stick and started to put a few marshmallows on the end. It was only a short wait before Smolder and Gallus arrived back from the woods. After they dropped their kindling and logs off in the fire pit, Gallus took a seat on one of the unoccupied logs. Smolder took a deep breath and let out a burst of flame. In a flash of dragonfire, the fire was lit, and the logs began to crackle. By the time Ocellus could see clearly again, Smolder was sitting on the last log.

Ocellus put her marshmallows over the fire, watching them carefully as they roasted. She heard the sound of gems clinking against one another in a bag before Smolder spoke up.

“So, what are we doing out here again?” Smolder asked, before taking a large bite of a gem.

“It’s for the atmosphere!” Sandbar said, having taken his seat after all the assorted treats from his bags were passed out. Ocellus noticed out of the corner of her eye that Silverstream hadn’t yet unpacked any of hers.

Ocellus pulled her marshmallows away from the fire and let them cool, before looking back over her shoulder at the Everfree. With the sun low, the clear shapes of the trees and branches had begun to fade away into vague dark outlines. The faint sounds of swaying branches, whistling winds and disturbed undergrowth drifted out from within. For a moment, she thought she saw a pair of eyes on one of the trunks, but a second glance showed it only to be a set of small holes cut into the bark.

“It certainly qualifies as creepy enough,” she said, turning back to the fire, and pulling her marshmallows close enough to take a bite. Food was certainly better to experience than read about.

“Exactly,” Sandbar replied. He looked back over his shoulder at Ponyville, where the street lights were starting to go on, and the windows were beginning to glow from within. “If we’re gonna do this, I figured we had to do it right. It’s your first time experiencing Nightmare Night, and you all need a real, authentic experience.”

“You still haven’t explained what exactly we’re doing out here, though.” Gallus grabbed a box of candies, popping some into his mouth. “Just that it’s some pony tradition or something. I thought all the creepy stuff happened on Nightmare Night.”

“Yeah, didn’t we already have some classes about this?” Silverstream asked, taking off from her seat for a moment. “Picking costumes”—she mimicked a dramatic pose worthy of Rarity—“trick or treating”—she did a barrel roll that ended with a short hop in the air—“and some party games.” She made a dive back into her seat, giggling as she thought back to the myriad of classes their professors had hosted about Nightmare Night.

Ocellus was about to pipe up, fishing behind her seat for one of the books, but Sandbar beat her to it. “Yeah,” he said, “but that's all on Nightmare Night. Besides, it isn't just about the costumes and games and treats. It’s about the… mood. You know, getting frightened and frightening. It's a part of the whole season. Facing your fears and stuff.”

Ocellus felt the log shaking, and looked over to see Yona shivering in her seat. Her eyes were focused on Ponyville and the School of Friendship, but Ocellus could guess where they’d looked a moment before.

“It’s alright, Yona. We went into the Everfree back when we first got to school, remember?" Ocellus put a hoof gently on Yona’s shoulder.

“Yes, but forest was bright and sunny then, and Yona not learned about all the scary creatures yet, and it wasn’t pony scaring holiday, and Yona not have to face fears.” Every excuse escaped faster than the last from Yona's mouth. Though she was protesting, however, her shivering and shaking dwindled with Ocellus' gentle touch.

"Hardly any scary, creepy or monstrous creatures come out of the forest, even at night," Silverstream said, hovering over to get in front of Yona. "Professor Fluttershy even said they were all just as scared of us sometimes."

"Yona know."

"We're all here together, too." Ocellus gave Yona a reassuring smile.

"Yeah!" Smolder shouted after she finished a particularly large ruby in a small number of bites. Ocellus noticed flecks of the gem flying from her mouth as she spoke. "Nothing in there could stand a chance against us."

A chorus of laughter came from everyone, and when it died down, Gallus was the first to speak up. "So, we're out here to face our fears, or what?"

Sandbar shook his head. "Nah, I thought we could share some scary stories around the campfire. It'll be just the thing to get you all in the spirit of the season."

Ocellus was already reaching for another book in her stack: Ghosts, Goblins and Ghoulish Figures. It had been a fantastic reference guide on pony myths and legends that seemed appropriate for the season. Also, it was referenced several times in Nightmarish Celebrations and Eerie Ensembles. "Oh, I read a couple of really good ones."

"Oh, that's great, Ocellus, but I was kind of hoping for something different." Sandbar got up, walking around the campfire as he spoke. "We learn about tons of pony stuff at school, and I know a lot of it already, but I thought it would be better if you all told some stories from back home." He stopped in front of Ocellus, resting a hoof between the pages. "That way, we can all learn a little bit more about each other."

Ocellus frowned and started to lower and close the book, but found Sandbar's hoof still in the way.

"Why don't you pick one out and I could read it first, to start things off?" he said, smiling.

Ocellus brightened up at once, and her wings fluttered on her back. As everyone else tried to stay relaxed or feasted on snacks, she found one of the stories that had stuck with her. She passed the book to Sandbar, who balanced it on a hoof as he walked back to his seat.

"Huh, I've actually never heard of this one. I thought I knew all these pony legends." He kept the book in hoof before clearing his throat. "Alright, this is the story of the Shadow Walkers, pony-like creatures that roam dark woods, just like the Everfree, and lure ponies deeper and deeper inside…"

Once, there was an earth pony named Lush Lily, who lived in a town far north called Mustang Marches, located just a short walk away from a forest: the Blue Blossom Brakes. The Brakes were known for their potent herbs, and Lily often went out into the woods to search for certain herbs for her family to use in concoctions and poultices.

One day, she heard about a grove deep in the woods, rumored to hold dozens of herbs in abundance. However, she was worried that a search in the day would risk some passerby following her and challenging a claim to the grove. So, that night, with a lantern and a half-full pack of provisions, she ventured into the woods, alone.

For the first hour, she kept on the path, marking her progress on a map in her satchel. She was experienced exploring the forests in the day, but at night she was worried that she would be unable to make her way back. Her progress was quick at first, but it slowed as she made her way off the familiar paths, and deeper into the trees.

She heard twigs cracking and leaves crumpling in the woods around her, but when she turned to look towards them, she saw nothing. Dismissing the noises as critters, she pressed on. She did manage to find a few stray herbs in the underbrush, and gathered what she knew her family needed. However, after two hours, she started to feel tired, and stopped in a small clearing to rest.

As she ate in the warmth of a small fire, she heard a screech coming from deep in the forest. It sounded like an owl, and so she ignored it once again. Then, she heard another, and another. With each screech, they became louder and louder, until it sounded like the source was only a few feet away from her in the trees.

She stayed within the light of the fire, holding a spade in her mouth as a weapon. Fighting the shiver of fear running up her spine, she scanned the surrounding trees for any hint of movement. The screeches, however, had stopped, and Lily was left alone, waiting for something to pounce at her as the firewood crackled behind her.

The forest was suddenly silent, not even a stray branch or leaf made a move or sound. In the dancing shadows of the leaves and trunks, she saw nothing.

After a few minutes, confident that the source of the noise had left her alone, Lily let her guard down, and she told herself that whatever made the noise must have passed. She packed up what supplies she had taken out and extinguished the fire. Still, she was shaken enough that she wondered if it was worth it to simply leave what progress she had made and head back home. Despite her still racing heart, she was certain that she could find the grove soon. Trying to calm herself and steel her resolve, she headed deeper into the woods.

As she continued on, the forest remained deathly quiet. As much as she wanted to relax, she found herself keeping her spade at the ready, with her legs and neck tense. Her eyes darted from side to side, glancing at every dimly lit bush and tree that she could see.

In the shadows behind the trees, she swore once or twice that she could see a figure or silhouette. However, every time she turned towards it again, it would vanish from sight, leaving nothing but empty pits of darkness.

Her pace quickened with every second, but her search for the grove soon gave way to trying to find her way out. She turned back, trying to find one of the many paths that cut through the woods, but even when she followed her map perfectly, there was no sign of one.

The oil in her lantern began to dwindle, its flame dimming and the shadows it cast growing more vague. She began to see eyes and limbs and bodies more clearly, and they swayed and moved instead of vanishing when she turned her eyes towards them.

The screeching came again the moment she ran, picking a direction and cutting between trees and through bushes for any sign of a way out. She eventually left her saddlebags behind when the weight became a hinderance, and even dropped her spade, but she kept the lantern close, hoping the light had been what staved off their assault before.

Eventually, the oil was at its end, and as the flame was going out, she saw the figures around her more clearly. Pony-like shapes, twisting in the shadows, stepping closer on legs that moved unnaturally. Before the light went out, she threw the lantern onto a nearby bush, and watched as it burst into flames.

The creatures screeched, cries of pain as they writhed about in the growing blaze, eyes that looked like pits of darkness staring through her. Adrenaline still pumping through her, she ran, until the cries and roaring fire were faint in her ears.

Eventually, she burst through the treeline and into an open field. Behind her, she could see the faint glow of a fire through the trees, but there was no sign of smoke. She told everypony that would listen to her to avoid the woods at night, that there was something lurking in the shadows, waiting.

Ocellus had spent most of the story shifting between watching Sandbar and checking everyone else's reactions. She still felt a shiver of fear run up her spine as the pony raced through the woods to escape, but it certainly wasn't as gripping as her first read.

Yona probably had the biggest reaction, shaking the log where they shared a seat from the moment the story started.

Silverstream, between shoving talonfuls of food into her beak, gave some shocked gasps and excited shrieks. By the end, however, she was much quieter, and glancing over her shoulder at the darkened Everfree.

Smolder and Gallus were much more relaxed, though Ocellus caught Gallus' wings tensing and flexing behind his back, and saw Smolder glancing to the forest as she blew small puffs of smoke from her nostrils.

Sandbar closed the book and walked it back over to Ocellus, who placed it on top of Nightmarish Celebrations behind her. "You told it really well, Sandbar!"

"Thanks. I'll admit it was a little more than I expected." He walked back to his log and sat down, before grabbing a small box of candies. "It's more intense than the Headless Horse, and I couldn't go to bed after my dad told me that one."

"I guess it was okay for a pony story," Gallus proclaimed, waving a talon dismissively in the air. "Kinda creepy, at least. I thought you would want to save a soft pony story for the end, though." The comment got a chuckle from Smolder, and the two bumped fists.

"You can do better?" Sandbar retorted with a smirk.

"Of course!" Gallus shouted back, standing up and spreading his wings wide. It was a moment before he relaxed and tapped his beak with a claw. "I just need to remember one first…"

Große

It had been calm for a few minutes as Gallus took the time to think. Ocellus took the opportunity to get a few snacks, even taking the time to show Yona and Silverstream the proper method of making s'mores according to Camping 101's chapter on "camping confections." The results were predictably delicious, though Yona had managed to burn her marshmallow. Still, she didn't seem to mind.

"Alright, I got just the one," Gallus said, lifting off from his seat and hovering over the fire. With the sun final set, the light of the fire only managed to partially illuminate his feathers and face, shadows dancing along his body in time with the beat of his wings. It almost made the shadows seem alive, breathing.

“Griffonstone sits on a tall peak, but there’s a wide stretch of forest out in a valley far to the east. It’s called the Knochen Wald. The Bone Forest. The trees are a stark white, and rarely have leaves except for a few months in the spring. Even with the lack of leaves, though, the trees get so dense in the deeper parts of the wood that you can’t make out the ground from above. It’s all due to the bitter winds that blow through the valley, but legends say it’s also because of a creature that inhabits the woods: Große, the Tall One.

Loggers would go down to the woods all the time, chopping down the sparse trees at the edge for good lumber. It’s the closest source of wood for Griffonstone, in fact. When they came back, though, they would talk about seeing something moving deeper into the woods, between the trees. Even in the brightness of midday, they could only make out the rough shape: tall and slender. Eventually, one of the loggers, named Gunther, decided that he had to know what it was, and proclaimed to all those that would listen that he would come back with proof of what it was.

Many of the loggers laughed him off because he was young and foolish, but it didn't deter him. With his trusty axe and his resolve, he ventured into the woods. He began at noon, but he traveled slowly, keeping his eyes alert and attentive for the sign of even the slightest movement. By the time the sun began to dip below the mountains, the trees had gotten close enough that he couldn’t stretch his wings out without hitting one, but he had seen no sign of the figure. There weren’t even any tracks.

Still, he had put his pride on the line, and continued forward despite the shadows stretching over the valley. He hadn’t thought to bring a lantern with him, but the night sky was clear that day, and moonlight shone over the barren bone white trees of the wood. It was only an hour into the night that he heard the faint snapping of twigs, not from deeper in the woods, but from behind him. He twirled around, axe ready in his talons and his rear legs tightened to pounce, but he saw nothing.

He called out, thinking that it was one of his fellow loggers, having followed him to play a trick on him, but there was no response. The night was suddenly eerily quiet. Not even the wind seemed to blow through the woods. Then, he saw it, out of the corner of his eye: the shape, tall and slender. It was almost as if one of the trees themselves were moving, headed deeper into the forest.

Gunther’s resolve was renewed, and he charged after the shape, axe still held at the ready in one talon. He couldn’t lift off to fly after it, but his legs moved quickly. As the trees began to slowly grow thicker, he still caught glimpses of it ahead of him, but it seemed to move quicker than he thought possible. In one blink of his eyes, it would be just a few trees ahead, and then the next he would spot it barely moving between a trio of trees fifty feet ahead of him.

Suddenly, the trees thick enough that he couldn’t even spread his wings, he lost sight of it again. He stopped, taking heavy breaths as his pounding heart tried to calm itself. While the trunks of the trees were far enough apart for him to move, their tops and branches had started to cross, and the moonlight projected a web of gnarled shadows down onto him. He thought of going back, taking his axe to the branches to fly into the air. His pride couldn’t be worth so much.

Just as he began to climb the nearest tree, he saw it. It had stopped moving, staring at him from a few trees away. He could clearly make out four legs, gangly and spindly. Even though it was still, they were swaying slightly. He couldn't make out its body or head. It just seemed like a jet black mass atop those legs in the faint moonlight.

He froze. He was certain that if he made the wrong move, it would pounce on him. His grip on his axe tightened, prepared to swing however he could if it came at him. It felt like hours were passing as he waited, watching and being watched. Finally, a delayed reflex came, and he stopped climbing, instead running directly away from the figure.

His body twisted as he dove and dashed between the close trunks of the trees, his wings and legs scraping against the bark as he fought back the urge to fly, certain it would leave him exposed if the creature had chased him. By the time he realized what direction he had fled in, it was too late.

He looked over his shoulder, catching the creature’s flickering form between a few trees, and the moment of distraction was enough. He tripped over a root, his axe loosened from his grip and lodged into a tree as he went spinning and tumbling. A particularly thick patch of trees seemed to rise out of the blackness created by the dense canopy and his momentum was stopped, his vision dazed as his head slammed into a trunk.

As the daze cleared, he did his best to move, but any attempt to dislodge himself made no progress. There was only the sound of the bark scraping against his body as he struggled. His lungs burning and his heart pounding, he stopped, taking slow breaths to try and calm himself. Then, he heard the snap of twigs from in front of him. He strained, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, but it seemed not even a sliver of moonlight could make it through the trees.

Snap.

Another branch, this time behind him. His tail flicked about, and he tried to turn his head to see, but it was no use.

Snap.

This time is was to his right.

Snap.

His left.

Snap.

In front. He renewed his struggles, twisting his body, hoping that something would give, even if it had to be him.

Crack!

One of his legs gave way to the pressure.

Crack!

Then the other. He twisted himself free and did the only thing he could think to do, and climbed. Clawing and pulling himself up, he made his way for the canopy, even as the pain in his broken legs grew more and more intense. The snapping of the twigs was gone.

Crunch!

Now it was trees. Thunderous, powerful booms as entire trunks were torn in half, but now all of them were coming from behind him.

Up and up he managed to claw, ripping through the branches, and the moonlight slowly began to peek through. The breaking trunks were closer by the second, and he threw himself upwards, stretching his wings out as his talons ripped and clawed for all they were worth. The branches dug into his wings, but they gave way, and he finally felt the faint breeze of the air.

He didn’t look back. He flew straight up, wings and heart beating as fast as they could. He saw Griffonstone in the distance, and flew as fast as he could. The thunderous sounds of breaking logs and branches and the faint snap of twigs were gone in the distance. The forest was silent.

Gunther told his story to the others. They laughed at him and called him a coward. He didn’t care, he was alive. He refused to go back to the Bone Forest again. However, one of the loggers he worked alongside did bring him something after a week. They found his axe when they came out one morning, lodged into a tree stump at the edge of the woods.

Ocellus let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her throat and mouth felt dry, and the breath that followed was a shallow, shaky one. She then noticed that a hoof she had rested on Yona's leg to try and calm her shaking had changed to a firm grip, and let go. Yona was now just as still as Ocellus, though her breaths were coming much faster.

Smolder was much more attentive, and Ocellus could make out claw marks in the log next to her as she lifted one up. “That was pretty good,” she said, flatly and quickly.

Sandbar swallowed a lump in his throat, and Ocellus could see Silverstream shaking a bit on the other side of Yona.

Gallus hovered back to his seat, looking triumphant. “Tough act to follow, huh?”

“C-certainly makes sitting next to the c-creepy woods a liiiittle creepier,” Silverstream muttered, flexing her wings. She then reached into one of her bags, pulling out a large graham cracker and nibbling away at it.

“I mean, it’s nothing for a dragon.” Smolder sounded sure of herself, though Ocellus saw her wings flexing just like Silverstream’s. “We can’t exactly get stuck in some trees.” She took a slow breath, and then pushed a tight jet of flame past her lips, which dissipated into heat after a few inches.

“Yeah, sure. I’m surprised you didn’t say that dragons aren’t afraid of anything though,” Gallus retorted, holding a trio of marshmallows over the fire.

Smolder chuckled, but looked into the flames. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

The Hollow Caverns

Smolder pulled a small emerald from her pouch of gems. She clicked her claws against it, spinning it in her grip as she looked into the fire. Taking a bite of it, she chewed it over, and then sprayed a dusty, green flame out onto the fire. It made the campfire blaze, several of the weaker bits of kindling giving way and sending a spout of orange-green fire into the air.

While Sandbar added an extra log to the fire, Smolder finished the emerald and stood up. Taking off into the air, she hovered over the fire, which, still burning with green dragonfire, began to billow smoke into the air. The smoke shrouded Smolder's body, but the firelight was bright enough that barely any shadows covered her.

When she spoke, her voice was deep and powerful, and Ocellus could hear it echoing back from the Everfree behind her.

“Dragons aren’t afraid of many creatures. We’re strong, powerful and big when we get old enough. Our scales are tough. Our bellies are filled with fire. Our wings can carry us far. Still, we aren’t always like that. When we’re young and small, drakes challenge each other to all sorts of things. Tests of endurance and strength and courage. A long time ago, older than my parents’ parents’ parents’ parents, there were a trio of drakes that were inseparable: Rockcrunch, Billow and Char. They were the first to discover the Hollow Caverns, and come back to tell the tale.

They spent their days together like most drakes do: lava surfing, wrestling, rock smashing. However, one thing that they enjoyed more than anything else was gem hunting. They would delve into the caves that dotted the Dragon Lands searching for radiant rubies, succulent sapphires and dazzling diamonds. Eventually, though, all of the shallow caves emptied out, but the trio still wanted more gems.

“We should have hoarded them," Billow said, wanting to have saved and savoured them, but she was always outvoted by the other two.

“We should dig deeper into the earth," Rockcrunch said, certain that there was a trove of gems just a bit deeper in one of those caves, but they were too weak to break the unforgiving stone.

It was Char that suggested something worthy of a dragon. "We’re strong and brave, why don’t we leave the Dragon Lands? We can go somewhere no other dragon tries to go. There must be mountains of gems out in the Bitter Wastes, waiting for us!"

The other two looked to him, and then each other. It wasn’t fear on their faces, certainly, but they were unsure. To the east of the Dragon Lands was a large stretch of barren land, called the Bitter Wastes. While the Dragon Lands are inhospitable to most creatures, they do have volcanoes, lava, caves and a warmer climate, but the Bitter Wastes hold none of those things. They were simply empty, as far as the eye could see, and eerily cold.

Rockcrunch and Billow knew that there were other places that might have gems nearby, but there was always a chance an older, stronger dragon would have laid claim to them. Without a fight, they conceded to Char's plan.

The three of them made their way out east, soaring above the barren land. From high up, they looked for any sign of a cave or cavern, but all they saw was barren ground.

After a few hours, ghe red glow of the lava flows were faint on the horizon behind them, and their wings were beginning to frost. So, they decided to set down to rest.

Char was the first to land, and as he set foot on the ground, it began to crack. Spider web fractures spread out from him, and he barely lifted off in time before the earth gave way. As dust surged up from the collapsing earth, the three beat their wings to drive it back. As it cleared, they saw a pit, with the entrance to a cave at the end.

Char was cautious, and let out a burst of fire to light the cave. It wasn't wide enough to fly through, but his attention was drawn to the walls. In the dragonfire's light, they were glittering with dust. He landed, finding the earth of the pit sturdy, and approached one of the walls. "Gemstones!" he proclaimed, while the others landed and came behind him. "There must be a cavern full of them somewhere below."

As the three entered the cave, they walked single file, with Char ahead and Billow in the back. They could feel a chilling wind that came from deeper inside the tunnel, rushing out to the open air of the Bitter Wastes behind them.

Together, they walked through the tunnel, lighting their way with dragonfire. Every so often, they would come to a fork in their path, and continue to follow the faint gem dust that lined the walls. After about an hour, they even started to see little gems forming in the walls, but they let them be, eager to find the true hoard that waited for them.

At the back of the pack, Billow swore that she heard the sound of something behind her or coming from the paths that they didn’t travel. Char dismissed it as just the wind, or the distant sound of some rocks being dislodged from a cave wall by chance and time.

Finally, one burst of Char’s dragonfire was returned with a dazzling array of lights from around the corner. He rushed forward, the others close at his heels, and they turned the corner to see a cave filled to the brim with gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, jades, citrine, diamonds; there was every kind of gemstone they’d ever seen in caves in the Dragon Lands, and some they had never seen before in their lives.

They took to dislodging them from the walls, putting them in a pile at the center. It didn’t even occur to them that they’d have to carry the hoard out of the caves; at that moment, they were too excited to care. They even took the time to feast, eating their fill and then some. By the time they had come down from it all, nearly exhausted from the joy, they gathered up as much as they could in their arms and headed back out of the tunnel.

Once more, they followed the glittering dust on the walls; it would lead them back to the surface, after all. Billow was the first one to notice something odd, and stopped the others. "The wind shifted," she said. It had come from in front of them on the way in, and was at their backs as they headed towards the surface, but within a few steps, the wind was now in front of them again.

“These tunnels are obviously deep," Char said. "The wind comes from the surface, from other places where the ground might have broken." Even if they had not seen any other holes or caves on the surface while flying, the others agreed and continued on. Then they saw the gems in the wall again.

"Gems grow all of the time," Char said, taking one gem from the wall and popping it into his mouth. "We just stumbled on some forming. They taste even sweeter." The others took a few, and they all continued on. Then, in a burst of dragonfire, they saw the dazzling colors come from around a corner.

Confused, they all walked forward, and found nearly the same cavern they had left. Gems of all variety covered the walls, and there was even a pile of them near the center of the cavern. Char accused Billow of getting them turned around when she had brought up the changing wind, that maybe she had imagined it. After arguing, they simply ate a few of the gems from the pile and returned to the path with their hoards held closer than before.

Once more they felt the wind shift, from behind to in front of them, but they said nothing. Once more they saw the small gemstones on the wall, but they said nothing. Once more they saw the dazzling display of colors from their dragonfire, but they said nothing.

They turned back around. At forks in the path, they took other routes. They even tried to avoid the glittering dust, but it would always return in the walls.

They tried to find another way out of the cavern, but there was only one path. They tried to dig their way up, but the rock was too tough to break. They tried to leave the gems behind, worried they had angered some creature that lived there. They always found themselves back there.

After hours, Char was angry, more than worried. Coming back into the room, he smashed the gems and yelled, "Come out! Are you afraid to face our might?!"

As he stomped his feet on the ground, the floor of the cave gave out. All three of them took to the air as gemstones fell into the pit that opened up below, and a great chilling gust whipped up against them. After a few moments, though, the wind settled; for the first time since entering the caves, the air was still. The pit was pitch black, even to their eyes, but Char took in a breath and blew his flames as far as he could.

They didn’t illuminate a single wall, but in the distance below, he could see something shimmering back. He flew down as the others waited near the tunnel out of the cavern.

He took another breath and blew. The shimmering was closer, and he could see the walls of the massive cavern above him. They reached out to walls far beyond his sight.

He flew lower again, took a breath, and blew. The shimmering was brighter. It must have been even more gemstones than what rhe cavern above had held. Maybe it was where they had all come from.

He took another breath and blew. The cave floor came into view, and he froze.

He could make out a few things: gemstones, shattered and cracked, dragon scales, glittering in the light of his fire, and bones, stark white against it all.

Suddenly, the air above and around him was sucked down, a deep chill surrounding and penetrating his body. A shuddering gasp of breath came from somewhere below, and the contents of the floor shifted.

He beat his wings, fighting against the force pulling him down, and was able to make it back to the mouth of the pit. He shoved them aside, scrambling into the tunnel, and then heard them following behind.

The great chilling wind returned, howlingfrom the deep. It was a roar more fearsome than any dragon had ever bellowed.

The tunnel around Char shook and shuddered, rocks and gems and dust dislodged as he felt the ground under him move and writhe and breathe. The roar echoed in his ears, but he continued to keep running, and then clawing as the pathway tightened around him. He didn't know if Billow and Rockcrunch were behind him, or if the shouting was from him alone, but he kept digging.

The frenzied scramble to the surface felt like an eternity, but finally the path forqard crumbled out of a wall of rock, and Char saw moonlight coming from the surface as he fell out into the pit. As soon as he could spread his wings, he was off into the air, back above the cold Bitter Wastes. Billow came out seconds later, and then Rockcrunch, both slowly lifting off the ground on damaged wings.

The trio saw the faint glow of lava flows on the horizon, and headed back to the Dragon Lands, gemless and terrified.

Only Char looked back behind them. He saw the earth close up around the pit, a cloud of dust rising into the air, and then blowing away to show the Bitter Wastes as nothing but empty and lifeless again.

Ocellus had been looking deep into Smolder’s eyes as she spoke, though her mind wandered to the imagery. With the gentle autumn breeze blowing against her back, she could almost feel the non-existent walls about her closing in as she listened. When Smolder stopped, the sensation began to fade. Still holding onto Yona, she began to fidget in her seat, fluttering her wings for a quick moment.

Above the campfire, the smoke finally clearing, Smolder relaxed and flew back over to the log to take her seat. She shot Gallus a glance as she did, and Ocellus could see that he was taking quick breaths in despite his attempts to seem calm. After a few moments of silence, he turned towards her, waving a claw in her direction.

“That was uhh… pretty good, yeah. So dragons are scared of some big creature hiding under the ground?” he asked.

Smolder sighed as she leaned back, looking into the fire. The dragonfire in the campfire had faded, leaving only the normal hues of orange and yellow in the flame. “Nah, it’s just some story to try and explain a place near where we live.” She took a clawful of gems from a bag, stuffing them into her mouth.

“What do you mean?” Ocellus asked, her wings finally calming on her back.

Smolder seemed ready to talk with a mouthful of gem shards, but took a few moments to finish chewing and then swallow. “I mean the Bitter Wastes are real. They’re just this oddly cold place close to the Dragon Lands. It feels weird, you know? No dragon would want to say that they’re afraid of a big stretch of open land where it’s always cold, but they’re fine saying they get creeped out by something under it that makes it that way.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Gallus said, his own wings flexing. Ocellus noticed his breathing had finally calmed down. “Dragons are kind of tough. It would be weird to be… afraid of a place just because.”

Smolder nodded. “Exactly. That or it’s just a story some drakes made up ages ago to show how tough they were to go to some place where the worst thing that could happen is you get some frost on your wings.” She blew smoke out of her nose as she chuckled.

“So have you gone there?!” Silverstream asked excitedly.

Smolder stopped laughing, the sudden halt forcing the smoke into her mouth, which came out in a series of rough coughs. “I mean… no, I never had a reason to!” she said, crossing her arms and kicking a bit of dirt towards the fire.

A series of giggles and laughs came from everyone else, though they all died down quickly. Gallus put an arm around Smolder’s shoulder, pulling her close. “Eh, it’s alright, Smolder. I wouldn’t go into The Bone Forest either. Place is just too creepy.”

Smolder rolled her eyes, and the two started shoving each other playfully. Ocellus laughed for a moment at the sight, but then reached down to pick up one of her books. Flipping through the pages of Ghosts, Goblins and Ghoulish Figures, she let her mind wander a bit over the stories that her friends had already told.

They had to come from somewhere, and she wished that she had a book on other creatures’ stories like this pony one to research further. Gallus and Smolder's were both sort of about places, though Ocellus noticed they also had some other things in common. The biggest one was that both the dragons and griffon were left unable to fly, at least for part of the story. There was also something moving around them, even if it was only mentioned in passing during Smolder’s story. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but she thought back to the story about the Shadow Walkers as well.

That was already fairly similar to Gallus’ story, with a pony wandering into a forest late into the night, being chased by creatures and then barely managing to escape. It was about an earth pony, though, so there wasn’t anything that would tie it back to a fear of losing the chance to fly away from danger. The pony did find themselves seemingly lost, as if circling in the same place, and that was close to Smolder’s.

The chances of a pony and griffon story being similar was understandable with how close the two races were to each other, but how could dragon stories be that close?

“Yona not like these stories.”

The words pulled Ocellus out of her thoughts, and she placed the book down on her lap before looking over at Yona. She seemed more composed than she was originally, but Ocellus noticed the telltale signs of mild fear and discomfort: teeth biting into her lower lip, dilated pupils, and the gentle but awkward tapping of her front hooves together.

Ocellus put on a smile and placed a hoof on Yona’s shoulder once again. “If you want to go back to school, we can.”

Yona swallowed and shook her head. “No, Yona not want to leave friends out here next to spooky forest alone.”

Silverstream talked between shoveling candies into her beak, “We’ll be fine— Professor Fluttershy— only talked about— creepy monsters coming out from— the Everfree like— four times at most!”

Ocellus was worried that Silverstream’s slip would have set Yona off, but the yak was surprisingly resilient. She did catch Sandbar’s hoof tapping Silverstream's back out of the corner of her eye though, before his voice cut the silence. “We can take a break from the stories if you want, Yona.”

Yona shook her head again. “No, Yona want to share.”

Gallus and Smolder’s play shoving and gentle ribbing of each other that had been going on in the background died out, and Ocellus gave Yona another reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure we’d all love to hear it, if you want to share.”

“Yeah, totally!” Sandbar echoed, preparing a few more marshmallows on the end of a stick. There were similar approvals from Gallus, Smolder and Silverstream as well.

Yona smiled, and stood up from the log before walking closer to the fire.

Tsasan

As the stars began to come fully into focus around the shining surface of the moon, the autumn chill seemed to build up even more. While Ocellus could feel it against her chitin and wings, it didn’t really bother her. However, she noticed Gallus, Silverstream and Sandbar all trying to get a little closer to the roaring fire, or at least holding out their limbs to it.

Yona, standing much closer to the fire, and now on the opposite side of the semi circle the other five formed, was sweating. If she minded the heat so close to the flames, she didn't show it. Her eyes focused on the fire, and she began to speak. Her voice seemed to carry farther to Ocellus, and though she wasn’t shouting, it echoed back from the forest, much like Smolder's had, “Yaks tell many stories to their young, to keep them from wandering away from the village alone...

The wilds around Yakyakistan can be dangerous, especially away from other creatures to the north. Yak tell tales about beasts beneath the snow drifts, hiding in caves, and that blend into the jagged peaks of the mountains. All beasts seem to enjoy eating tender young yaks the most. The most important story, however, is the one we tell to keep young yaks inside during blizzards: the story of Tsasan.

Many, many moons in the past, the Prince of Yaks was a young calf named Yin’gar. His father had fallen ill during a bitter winter, when the sun had not risen for weeks. Until he was to come of age, his late father’s advisors ruled in his stead, and taught him all he needed to know to be a good leader for yaks. No yak in all of Yakyakistan felt anything but sorrow for the young prince.

His family's hut was the largest in the village, and so while others held court below, Yin’gar sat in his room upstairs, and looked out beyond the walls. He thought of his father’s spirit, wandering the wastes outside the village, protecting the village along with the other ancestors. He wished that he could be with him, to feel whole again.

One night, the snow began to fall slowly, but by the time he fell asleep, it was a raging blizzard. Against the windowsill, he awoke from a nightmare, and heard his father calling his name.

It was then that he saw a glow within the blizzard, just beyond the walls of the village. He focused on the darkness, and the glow came into the shape of a yak. Yin’gar was still young, but he knew the tales of his people. He was certain that his father was calling to him in his time of anguish. It was a vision that he should follow. And so, everyone else having gone to sleep, he tiphoofed down the stairs, out into the village and then beyond the walls, out into the storm.

His coat was thick, and the cold did not bother him. His hooves were strong, and they carried him steadily despite the powerful winds. His mind was sharp, and he kept focused on the figure, glowing brightly in the blinding blizzard. His ears were keen, and he followed the voice, calling his name. Eventually, forging his way through the snow, Yin’gar saw the figure walk into the entrance of a cave.

Suddenly, the glow about the shape faded, and the call of his name quieted, from a shout over the raging storm to a whisper. Stepping into the mouth of the cave, Yin’gar was finally given relief from the bitter cold of the blizzard and he shook the snow free from his coat.

He called out his father’s name, but the only answer back was the echo of his words and the faint whispers of his name. Soon, even those were silent, and all he could hear was the wind outside.

The figure did not move until Yin’gar took a cautious step towards it. It slinked away, deeper into the cave, fading into the blackness of its depths. Still, Yin’gar tried to speak to it. “Why did you call me here, Father?” he asked. “Is it to show me something? Some treasure hidden away here? An heirloom that must be returned home? A quest left unfinished? Please, Father, tell me…”

With every step he took, the figure retreated, but Yin’gar could hear it speak once more, quieter than a whisper. “Yin’gar… Deeper… Follow…" With no answers, Yin’gar still followed it.

The cave seemed to stretch forever, but finally the figure did not retreat. Yin’gar’s eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, so he noticed the cave walls around him and just behind the figure.

Yin’gar took a step, and the figure did not move.

He took another, and it still did not move.

As he began to take a third step, he noticed that the air was growing colder. A frigid, deep cold cut through his thick fur. He caught sight of ice, slowly forming on the walls and floor, spreading out from where the figure stood.

The figure spoke, louder, but Yin'gar heard it from inside of his head.

“Yin'gar. Stay. Stay. Forever.”

Eyes he had not seen before opened on the figure, and they were blacker than the depths of the cave, more frigid than the winds howling outside and they pierced through him as if he were not there.

Yin’gar scrambled on his hooves to turn, running for the cave entrance as fast as he could. As he turned, a shrill shriek came from the figure, followed by the sound of ice shattering.

The layer of ice on the walls and floor raced to catch him, but he was fast. A patch appeared in his way, but he was sturdy enough to keep himself upright. He saw the front of the cave, wall of ice forming at the mouth, trying to bar his way. Yin'gar put his head down, aiming his little horns at it, and he prayed for his father’s strength.

His horns slammed into the ice, and it shattered. Shards scratched at his skin and cut his fur and mane, but he kept running. The shrieks echoed into the winter night, but he never looked back.

The bitter winds of the blizzard attempted to cloud his path, but he found the lights of the village. He broke through an entire section of the wall in a rush to get back in, and he collapsed as the rest of the village awoke.

It took him weeks to recover, from the cuts and the bitter cold that wracked his body. Every time he would glance out into the still raging blizzard, he would see the figure. Every time it would call out to him, still in his father's voice. Every time he would have to fight the urge to go.

Tsasan seeks to lure yaks away from their villages and their families, to take them to places where they will never leave. To stay with them…

“...forever.” Yona’s final word echoed back from the forest behind Ocellus, and then again from a treeline off to the left, quiet and faint. The effect sent a shiver down her spine, and caused her wings to flutter reflexively, as if they were trying to shake off an accumulation of ice that wasn’t there.

She noticed a similar reaction from Silverstream, but Smolder and Gallus were more reserved. Sandbar gave a shiver, front hooves wrapped around his barrel before he got up to walk closer to the fire. “That was uhhh, pretty chilling,” he muttered, before giving a chuckle.

Ocellus caught Smolder's and Gallus’s eyes roll in tandem. Silverstream, however, gave a giggle before looking at Yona. “Are blizzards really that bad in Yakyakistan?”

Yona nodded. “Yaks haven’t had a bad storm since elders were Yona’s age, but they can get bad. Even strong yaks like Yin’gar and Prince Rutherford can’t go out in them alone. Tsasan good lesson to keep young, headstrong yaks safe!”

“You must have been told it a dozen times,” Gallus said, his tail flicking back and forth behind him. He waved his claws in front of him when Yona glared at him. “Not that that’s bad! We don’t really get bad storms up near Griffonstone. They sound pretty intense though.”

“It’s the same with the Dragon Lands. It’s kind of weird to see creatures talking about snow and ice like they’re… dangerous,” Smolder said, punctuating her sentence with a flick of flame from her mouth.

"You just told a story about those really cold wastes, though," Silverstream piped up, raising an eyebrow.

"Cause it's weird. Snow and ice are just the weather. It's totally different!" Smolder retorted, lifting out of her seat and pointing a claw at Silverstream.

“Tsasan not just about blizzard,” Yona said, once more looking into the fire. “Tsasan prey on yaks’ care for family. Winter is season of ends.” She walked back over to her seat next to Ocellus and sat down quickly, the motion rocking the log enough for Ocellus to almost fall off.

Ocellus thought on the words for a moment, and from the silence that hung in the air, only broken by the rustling of leaves and the crackling of the fire, so was everyone else. It was Sandbar who finally spoke up.

“But winter gives way to spring.”

Ocellus caught Yona’s smile before she nodded and looked to Sandbar. “Yes. Snow thaws, ice melts, plants come back and yaks remember the lost. The lost stay with yaks forever, and make spring warmer.”

"A lot of stories aren't really about what happened," Ocellus said. She looked at Gallus and Smolder, who both gave her confused looks. "I mean, Smolder said the Hollow Caverns were trying to give a cause for why the Bitter Wastes are so cold.

"And Gallus, the Große probably isn't real, right?"—he gave a reluctant shrug—"Maybe it's just a cautionary tale to keep griffons from getting stuck deep in that forest. The same with the Shadow Walkers. It's just about expressing fears. I noticed a lot of scary pony stories are about ponies acting weird, or becoming something strange."

"Like the Headless Horse, or the Rusty Horseshoe, yeah," Sandbar said with a nod. "And it's the reason the Everfree is so creepy, because the weather just happens, and animals are wild there. It's not how things are for us."

There was another pregnant pause, and Ocellus started to reach for her book before stopping. She didn't know if it would really hold an answer to the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

Something about every story her friends had told seemed familiar. Besides the fact that every creature in them had managed to escape their predicaments, however, she couldn’t put her hoof on it. It was like a fickle flame in her mind, and every time she'd turn to see it, the motion would cause the light to flicker out into a wisp of smoke.

She felt a weight on the log next to her, and looked over to see Silverstream sitting next to her, smiling expectantly. Ocellus looked back and forth between her pile of books and Silverstream for a few moments. “Yes, Silverstream?”

“Are you gonna tell a creepy changeling story, or can I go?” Her talons were pressed into her cheeks as she waited, smiling, for a reply. It gave her a much more sympathetic look, though it wasn’t really needed.

Ocellus laughed and shook her head. She was wondering how she was going to bring it up. “No, no. Uhh… Changelings don’t really have stories.”

Silverstream gave a gasp of excitement at Ocellus’s “no,” flapping her wings rapidly, but it turned into a confused exhalation. She tilted her head to the side and dropped a few inches back onto the log as her wings stopped. “Why not?”

Ocellus noticed the others looking at her as well. She took a moment to try and order her thoughts to best explain it. “We didn’t have a reason for them,” she stated plainly. “Before we were reformed, we just did what the queen said. Infiltrators needed to know creatures’ stories a little, sometimes, but we never had our own. Instead we, well, have a sort of instinctual memory.” Ocellus tapped her chin with a hoof, wondering if she had found the right words.

“You mean you just know stuff?” Smolder asked.

“Yes, but not all at once,” Ocellus corrected. “We’d just remember them when it came up. Like the fact that bugbears are dangerous if we aren’t transformed into one. As soon as we see a bugbear, we just remember that, and either turn into something that can hide, or something that can fight.

“That’s all different now, with Thorax in charge. Some changelings back home are trying to write, I think. One of them even asked me to bring some fiction books back for research material.”

“That seems so weird,” Sandbar interjected. “Like you didn’t even have any that you told each other?”

Ocellus shook her head. “No. It just… wasn’t important. The hive was about being efficient then, for a lot of reasons. Stories weren’t efficient when you can just… burn the important bits into every grub's memory.”

“I wonder if it will still happen with new changelings,” Gallus said, before popping a roasted marshmallow into his mouth. “I mean are they born… changed now?”

“Uh huh. I guess we’ll find out when they grow up,” Ocellus said, before looking back to Silverstream. The hippogriff still looked confused, and a little disappointed. “So, yes, Silverstream, you can tell one next.”

Her mood immediately lightened up, wings going from zero to hummingbird in the blink of an eye before she began to circle the air above the fire, chanting, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

The Kelpies of Charybdis

It took about a minute of Silverstream’s jubilation and celebration for her to glide back down towards an empty log, hover and then turn back to the others while landing. “I’ve got just the story!”

“Try not to make it too happy,” Gallus deadpanned, which got him a sharp elbow in the side from Smolder.

“Oh, no, it’ll be tooootally spooky and scary and terrifying and terrific. Why doesn't terrific mean the same as terrifying? Anyway, it'll be great, promise!” Silverstream cleared her throat and did her best to imitate Yona or Smolder’s booming, strong storytelling voices. The effort was less than effective. “It was a perfectly normal day on Mount Aris…

Every hippogriff was enjoying themselves, doing what we normally did. Flying around; playing games; Collecting shells on the beach; making jewelry out of shells and metals and gems and minerals; celebrating with feasts. Then, a terrible wind blew from the east, out over the ocean.

It was a stronger wind than anygriff had expected for that time of year, and there had been not a cloud in the sky for weeks as far as the eye could see. Nonetheless, the sounds of thunder echoed from the east, and dark clouds began to fill the air. Lightning struck with a thunderous crack near the high cliffs of the mountain and the peaks of the castle. Debris fell and hippogriffs ran for cover, clutching their young to them.

Suddenly, one of the clouds parted, and a massive ship came out from—

“The Storm King?” Smolder interrupted, though Ocellus noticed that Gallus’ beak had opened a second too late to do it first, and Sandbar had only started to open his jaw.

Silverstream gasped and twirled in the air to face Smolder, putting a claw to her beak. “Shh shh shhhhh! Don’t ruin the suspense!”

“Sorry, I just…” Smolder rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not really a legend… or an old story, is it?”

“But it’s scary!” Silverstream retorted, floating over the fire to get closer to Smolder as she held a talon out accusingly.

“Hey, hey, come on,” Sandbar said, galloping over to stand between the two. Smolder, however, hadn’t shown the least bit of aggression. “No offense, Silverstream, but Smolder’s kind of right. I wanted this to be about learning some of everycreature’s culture, you know? The Storm King is important, but… he invaded kind of recently, didn’t he?”

“... Yeah,” Silverstream relented, her wings flapping slower and slower until she landed with a thump on the ground. “I just… it’s all hippogriffs talked about the whole time we were seaponies hiding away."

She started to count on her talons. "We had stories about the invasion, about the Storm King finding us in Seaquestria, about wandering too far into the ocean and being stolen away, about the Storm King invading nightmares, about him sending terrible sea creatures to attack us!" Her voice raised with each story she summarized, until her voice cracked with the last shriek. Ocellus noticed her wings shivering.

"There must have been some other stories, from before you had to go into hiding?" Sandbar asked while rubbing at one of his ears.

Silverstream scratched at her chin. "Well, my mom told me some once."

“And what did your mom tell you?" Gallus asked with a smirk. "Besides to lay off the sugar.”

“We couldn’t have sugar in the sea, silly. It all dissolved.” Silverstream replied with a giggle. “She just told me some stories that she said her grandmother told her when she was young. Really, really old ones.”

Sandbar trotted back over to his seat and sat down. “Well, tell us one of those.”

Silverstream nodded, and flew back over to her spot in the air, facing everyone else. She cleared her throat, and rather than trying to imitate Smolder or Yona again, spoke in a quieter tone, one that subdued her normal bubbly personality.

“Before the Storm King, we were only hippogriffs, and Mount Aris was our home. We would venture out into the seas by ship, or sometimes fly across them to reach nearby mainlands. However, the waters around us were home to strange creatures that we had to be cautious of. A lot of those turned into Storm King stories, but my mom told me one she said was really important. It was about the Kelpies, and a strange place they lived, a village called Charybdis.

Long ago, there was a young hippogriff named Meadowcreek. She lived down by the seashore, in one of the tiny villages at the base of Mount Aris. However, she was a lonely soul, spending her evenings alone on the beach, away from others her own age. She wanted to make friends, but every attempt she seemed to make was met with nothing but failure.

One evening, skipping stones into the sea, she wished for things to change; she wanted a friend, someone to confide in, that would love and trust and welcome her with open arms. She was about to toss another stone, but was thrown off as a sweet voice called out from behind her, “Hello!”

She whirled around, and came face to face with another hippogriff. Her coat was the color of the foam of high tide, and her mane was a light green. Meadowcreek stammered out a greeting in reply.

The hippogriff took flight and came closer. “My name is Ocean Foam. Are you lonely?” Her voice was sweet and calming to Meadowcreek, and she let her heart open to Ocean Foam. She told her about how lonely she felt, and how there didn’t seem to be anyone that would be her friend. Ocean Foam simply smiled and hugged her. "I'll be your friend!"

They talked for hours, until the sun began to set, and Meadowcreek asked Ocean Foam to come back to her home for the night. Ocean Foam declined, saying that she had her own home to return to, but promised that she would come back the next day.

Ocean Foam was true to her word, and every day when Meadowcreek was done with her work or chores, or just feeling alone, she would come to that stretch of beach away from the village, and find Ocean Foam waiting for her. They talked and bonded and became close.

One day, Ocean Foam asked Meadowcreek if she would come to her home. Meadowcreek had her own family, and little siblings that she had to look after now and then, but she was certain that her family wouldn’t miss her if she went to spend time with her friend. Enthusiastically, Meadowcreek agreed, and as the sun began to set on the horizon, the two took flight out over the sea.

At first they seemed to be flying for one of the near mainlands, and Meadowcreek asked if Ocean Foam lived in Maregara or Callcis across the strait, but Ocean Foam shook her head. "No," she said, "we only need to go this way to catch a current." And so, halfway across the channel, they turned towards the north and the open sea. Meadowcreek was not familiar with the small island settlements that lay to the north of Mount Aris, but she trusted in her friend.

An hour passed, and they were still over open water. Meadowcreek asked if they were getting closer, and Ocean Foam laughed sweetly and said that it might take awhile longer. Meadowcreek tried not to mind the ache growing in her wings, and continued to fly. There was nothing she could see in any direction except for the ocean on the horizon, and the faint outline of Mount Aris to the south.

Another hour passed, and Meadowcreek was starting to grow tired. She asked, again, if they were almost there, and Ocean Foam smiled and said that they were very close.

Meadowcreek strained to see any sign of land close. She spotted an island off to the west, but they were not headed towards it. They only flew north, where there was no sign of anything but waves. Even those slowly began to vanish beneath her, along with the light of the day.

Before another hour passed, Meadowcreek stopped flying. She had put her trust in Ocean Foam, and had not wanted to ask her exactly where she lived before seeing it. However, so far from home, with no land in sight, she couldn’t hold back the question any longer.

Ocean Foam continued to smile, and floated over to Meadowcreek. They hugged, and in the moonlight, Meadowcreek noticed for the first time that Ocean Foam’s mane didn’t really look like hair anymore. It seemed like seaweed.

“I live in Charybdis. It’s very close, and I’m sorry for not telling you. I didn’t think you would come with me if I told you how far it was. But everygriff there will love to meet you!” Ocean Foam’s tone and cheer was infectious, and Meadowcreek felt her strength return to her. The ache in her wings faded just a bit.

It was only a few minutes more before the land seemed to come from nowhere beneath them. On the flat island was a small village, of a dozen simple houses. The sea around it was calm and still, making a perfect reflection of the moon above. As the two glided down, Meadowcreek couldn't see anyone else.

She asked where the other villagers were, but Ocean Foam said they were all busy, getting ready for a ceremony, something special they did to welcome newcomers. They went towards a small hut near the shore, Ocean Foam's home. Inside, they ate, talked, and laughed. Ocean Foam’s hair seemed like hair again, and Meadowcreek was certain it had been a trick of the moonlight.

Then, there was the sound of a horn being blown, and Ocean Foam said that the preparations were done. Meadowcreek followed her out the back door, her body and wings still aching a bit, and saw a crowd of hippogriffs standing at the edge of the island, looking out into the ocean. They had coats the colors of the ocean, but their manes were all the same as Ocean Foam’s. In the moonlight, their manes looked like seaweed again.

Everyone was quiet, and when they turned to look at Meadowcreek, she began to hear the sound of rushing water past them. Everyone stepped out of their way as Meadowcreek and Ocean Foam walked to the shore.

Ocean Foam said that when newcomers came to Charybdis, they were allowed to see into the whirlpool, and that it would show them a vision of their futures. The sound of rushing water grew louder, and as the crowd parted at the shore, Meadowcreek beheld the sight of a great whirlpool in the ocean.

It was easily fifty feet across, and it swirled away, not even disturbing the water about it. As Meadowcreek looked deep into it, she began to feel even more tired, as if the long day were suddenly catching up to her. She felt like she hadn't slept for days. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Her head filled with visions of her living on the island, friends with everyone there. She was respected and loved and cherished. She even saw her family living there as well, and everyone's hair had changed to match Ocean Foam's.

Slowly, the waters sank, the whirlpool growing deeper into the ocean. It sank far deeper than should have been possible with how close it was to the shore. The sounds of rushing water slowly gave way to a groan, muffled by the waves, and then that soon gave way to an ear-splitting cry.

Meadowcreek saw something come into being at the center of the whirlpool, down where it seemed like she could not hover without the water swallowing her up. Eyes. A beak. Writhing tentacles. A voice in her head called for her to join them. To become one with Charybdis.

Panicking, her heart pounding, Meadowcreek backed away from the shore. She turned around when she came into contact with someone behind her. It was Ocean Foam, but not her.

Her hair was seaweed. Her face and body were scaly. Her talons came out from fins and there was a strange webbed tail behind her. All of the others looked the same.

Ocean Foam’s voice, sweeter than it ever was when it made Meadowcreek feel like she finally had a friend, called for her to become one with Charybdis. The crowd joined in, their voices like a chorus. For a moment, it reminded Meadowcreek of her mother singing her a lullaby. All of those images of her there, happy, played over and over in her mind, even as she tried to forget them.

Meadowcreek took to the air, and flew as fast as she could. The chorus of voices called to her. Her wings ached. Her body felt drained of all energy. Still, she flew and she screamed, her voice going hoarse as she called for help. She was a mile from the last island she passed when her wings gave out, and she fell into the waves, splashing about and crying for help.

She awoke on the shore, coughing up salty seawater, surrounded by hippogriffs. They weren’t the inhabitants of Charybdis, and when Meadowcreek asked about the place, no one knew of it. The next day, they took her back to Mount Aris on a boat. Meadowcreek never went to the shore alone ever again.

Silverstream landed back on her seat, and Ocellus felt an odd sensation. It wasn’t like noticing that she had been holding her breath, or the times that her wings had fluttered to verify that she could still spread them, sitting on the log in a clearing too far from the woods to be claustrophobic. Instead, it was a feeling in the back of her head, trying to grasp at something that was on the tip of her tongue, hazy yet familiar. At the same time, her entire body seemed tense and stiff.

“So were kelpies like… seaponies?” she heard Gallus ask as she reached for the book of terrifying tales and began to flip through its pages, eyes scanning as quickly as she could.

“I don’t really know,” Silverstream replied, her tone sounding more somber than her chipper demeanor seemed capable of producing. “My mom never really said. I think she was worried they were out there, and dangerous while we were hiding from the Storm King. It wouldn’t have been that odd for someone to have seaweed in their hair or to look, well, fishy…”

Ocellus's grasp on the flow of conversation fell away as she flipped through the pages and continued to reach for that flickering flame in her mind. Past stories on banshees, strix, basiliks, the Headless Horse and others. Soon their names blurred together, until she suddenly stopped on the entry about the Shadow Walkers.

“Ocellus?” someone asked, but she was reading it over again. A creature that dwelled in the woods, stayed out of sight, ran ponies around for hours and exhausted them. It tried to draw them deeper, away from their homes. It was just like Große and Tsasan and the kelpies. It drew them in circles and tried to exhaust them, like whatever was in the Hollow Caverns, or the kelpie. It horrified; a lot of things did that, but it was still something. Most of all, though, in all of the stories, they let them go. Word spread. Fear spread.

Still, there was something more connecting them, linking them. Ocellus still couldn’t grasp it, even as she closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her hooves on her temples. She took slow, steady breaths, and tried to ignore Yona’s sudden shaking of her shoulder.

She could remember, she just had to focus. The flame went out every time she looked within, but the smoke it left behind was taking shape. If she could just concentrate and—

Ocellus’s eyes shot open, and she moved them quickly in every direction. Her slow breathing gave way to sudden gasps for lungfuls of air, though her throat did its best to try and keep her quiet. Flashes of green magic tinted her vision as her form shifted, outside of her control. Each shape was accompanied by shallow rationalizations in her mind.

Fight it. Bear. Bugbear. Hydra. Wyrm. Dragon. Roc. Manticore. Outnumber. Wolf. Lion. Hyena. Fly. Hawk. Eagle. Phoenix. Owl. Ambush. Cobra. Panther. Tiger. Run. Cheetah. Gazelle. Hare. Falcon. Hide. Chameleon. Mouse. Ant. Hide.

Hide.

Hide.

Hide.

Finally, Ocellus managed to wrest control of her reflexes and shifted back to her natural form. Her vision came back into focus, and she saw that she was away from the fire, closer to the Everfree. All of her friends had gathered closely around her, looking concerned.

"Are you okay, Ocellus?” Sandbar asked, reaching a hoof out to her.

Ocellus felt sick to her stomach, a side effect to rapid transformations, but managed to keep herself from vomiting. She nodded her head and was aware that she was on her back. “I-I’ll be fine, I just need…” she said as she got to her hooves, and then suddenly failed to hold back her stomach any longer.

She could hear them whispering to each other.

"What was that all about?"

"Maybe she just got freaked out."

"Was my story that scary?"

"Yona hope Ocellus is fine."

Once she was finished expelling the contents of her stomach, she headed back to her seat. Her recollection was suddenly clearer, the image she had tried to grasp before taking a clear shape.

The others quieted down and went to take their seats as well. Before they could sit down, Ocellus cleared her throat and spoke up.

“I have a story now. It’s about all of yours.”

Revulsion

“What do you mean, Ocellus?” Smolder asked, stepping between Ocellus and the fire.

Ocellus felt calmer now, though her stomach felt like it was tying itself into knots. She looked at Smolder, but didn’t smile. “I’ll explain. Just sit down, please. I’m alright now.”

Smolder looked from Ocellus to Sandbar and the others. After a moment of silence, she took her seat, and everyone else followed her lead. Yona sat down on Ocellus’ left, a hoof resting on her shoulder, and Sandbar moved to sit on her right.

Ocellus took a few short breaths and looked around at her friends as she spoke. “Changelings are special, in a lot of ways, but the important thing right now is that we’re empathic. We used to feed on love, but we could sense it too; we could smell, see, and sometimes even feel it. That’s not the only emotion we could sense like that though. Sadness, regret, envy, joy, pride; they each had a taste or a scent or even a tint to them.

“It helped a lot with getting trust, working our way into cultures and adapting to be a part of them. The thing about lots of different cultures and races, is that they all seemed to have some emotions that really shined. Love in ponies, pride with griffons, desire in dragons… A long time ago, when changelings observed races, that was how they named them, for the emotions that they saw the most.”

Ocellus paused, looking down at her front hooves and running them together. The memories, locked by generations and hives and colonies far past were still fresh in her mind. She wondered if they would fade at all.

“What does that have to do with our stories?” Silverstream asked, her voice cracking as she tried to sound cheerful despite the worried expression she wore.

Ocellus looked into the fire, watching a log collapse and send a shower of embers into the air. “There was one creature we never learned the true name of. We only had the emotion that we saw from it. It wasn’t like other creatures though. Even if a pony feels love a lot of time, for their friends or special somepony, they still have sadness, joy, disappointment, shame or any number of other emotions beneath the surface. They’ll bubble up and show themselves, or leave a scent on the wind.

"This creature only showed one emotion. It was always pointed at changelings, as it watched us from afar. It only felt Revulsion...”

Long ago, a scout for a hive was patrolling their borders. Near the exit of a tunnel that led underground, the scout saw a figure standing in the tree lines. It was tall, but shrouded in the shadows of the canopy. The scout tried to move closer, to see it better, but then felt the creature’s gaze turned on it. There was a sudden burst of Revulsion in the air, the scout’s stomach twisted, its wings fluttering in response to the rush of the powerful emotion.

The scout managed to run away, to alert the Queen. She insisted that soldiers assemble to assault the creature, and remove it from the forest. A horde was assembled, and the soldiers found the figure still standing just past the tree line. They changed into powerful forms, and attempted to assault Revulsion.

Bears, tigers, bugbears, manticores, chimeras, hounds, hydras and wyrms were not strong enough to kill Revulsion. As a group, they attacked it as wolves, lions, falcons, phoenixes and even in their natural forms, but they could not overwhelm Revulsion. Retreating, they attempted to ambush it if it left, as panthers and jaguars and cobras, but Revulsion never moved. Nothing they did to Revulsion made it leave. Nothing they did could kill it. Still, it let them live, and its feeling for them grew stronger.

The soldiers returned and told the Queen of their defeat. The Queen was angered, but as Revulsion had not killed the worthless drones, she did the task herself. She then ordered scouts to search the lands, far and wide, for other creatures like Revulsion. The years of their search went by, and the emotion of Revulsion weighed on the hive. Like a great miasma, it choked the attempts to gather and feed on any other emotion. It made even the Queen sick and weak. The air was tinted by a deep, rancid crimson.

Finally, the scouts returned, and they told tale of other Revulsions. All of them acted the same. All of them felt the same. Revulsions’ emotions for changelings never wavered, and they could always sense them despite their forms. Some scouts, however, had managed—by luck or circumstance—to observe Revulsion from a distance. They noticed how it changed its shape in subtle, small ways. They saw it mold the earth and weather and nature about it. They observed its feeding grounds, near the other creatures.

They saw it appear in great woods near Love and Pride. They saw it scour the seas near Astonishment. They saw it burrowed beneath the barren wastes near Desire. They saw it hide in the great snowfalls near Jubilation. They saw it in the plains of Shame. They saw it in the mountains of Inferior. They saw it in the deserts of Passion. They saw it in the jungles of Longing. They saw it in the forests of Envy.

Everywhere it tread, it inspired Fear. Still it only felt Revulsion.

The Queen asked if they had found a place it would not tread, and one scout said they had. A great mountain in a barren land where no other creature lived. The Queen gathered those drones fit to travel and left the others to rot in the miasma of Revulsion. Revulsion followed them. With no other option, the Queen continued onward.

By the time they reached the wastes, her hive was abysmal, decimated a dozen times over, but she would see them survive. With her last bit of strength, she gave her essence to a clutch that had been brought with them. Her husk left behind, the drones carried her progeny to the mountain. Revulsion followed. The sickly crimson filled the air. The miasma worsened. From inside out, some wasted away.

Suddenly, within sight of the mountain, Revulsion stopped. Its emotion remained intense, but it would not follow. In the mountain, hollowed out, the Hive made its new home. The clutch was born. A Queen survived as others perished. Revulsion watched.

Years passed. Revulsion’s gaze lessened, enough for drones of the Hive to sneak by it, to gather food. One day, it was gone. No trace was left behind, except for the aftertaste of the miasma. It hung for decades, burned into the land Revulsion had tread.

Ocellus took a deep breath as she finished, and then exhaled it slowly. Looking around at her friends, she saw a mixture of confusion and uncertainty in their expressions. Smolder had crossed her arms, looking down at her feet. Yona was fiddling with her hooves as she looked into the fire. Gallus and Sandbar were both rubbing the back of their necks, oddly in time with one another. Silverstream tapped her claws against her chin and beak, and was the first one to speak up.

“You remembered all of this?” she asked, and Ocellus nodded in reply. “From our stories?” Ocellus nodded again, the knot in her stomach starting to undo itself a little. “And the weird changeling instinct memory thingie is triggered when you remember threats?”

Ocellus nodded once more, and looked into the fire. Through Ocellus’ and Silverstream’s stories, they hadn’t fed it more firewood, and the flame was dwindling down to embers. Amidst the darkness, it seemed brighter than anything else.

“It fed on fear. It would find what creatures feared, spread stories into their cultures, and then feed on those lingering horrors. I don’t know why it hated changelings though. Maybe because if we alerted creatures to shapeshifters existing, its ability to get food would cease? Or maybe it was because the Queen wouldn't let us fear it.”

As Ocellus let the silence take hold again, there was still a nagging thought at the back of her mind. It was something familiar, but hazy. She looked to her books, curious if there would be any information, in any tome, of a time so far back in history that it took this long to come to the surface.

“Is it still around?” Sandbar asked, and Ocellus looked around, sniffing at the air.

The memory of that awful emotion was still fresh in her mind, but there was no sign of it around, and no changeling had ever mentioned the creature to her. Finally, she shook her head.

“I don’t think so. I think, as time marched on, there was less for creatures to fear. The stories remained, and changed, but it wasn’t enough for them to feed on. Maybe the wilds also vanished, conquered year by year.”

Gallus let out a nervous laugh, his body relaxing. “I could have sworn you were gonna say ‘yes’ and that there’s one sitting in the Everfree.”

It took a moment, but Smolder let out a snort of smoke and started laughing as well. Sandbar and Yona chuckled after a few more moments. Seconds later, Silverstream was fighting back a giggle and that set Ocellus off. For about a minute, they all collapsed into laughter as their nerves gave way. The fire seemed brighter still.

“Maybe we should get back to the dorms,” Sandbar suggested as the laughter began to thin. Ocellus looked to Ponyville. The lights were starting to go out in houses, and even from so far away, it was clear to see the streets were empty.

Everyone began to get ready to go, and while the others went about putting out the fire and gathering up the leftover snacks, Ocellus put her books back into her saddlebags. Part of her had worried the same as Gallus when those memories came to her, but it was for the best. Whatever Revulsion was, it was so far back in changeling “history” that those reactions were buried incredibly deep. It was by chance that she'd even recalled them.

She shook her head, trying to force her thoughts back to more current affairs. She wondered if there was still time to get a good costume ready for Nightmare Night as she put the book about pony traditions away. Then again, she could just change her appearance. That would probably get her disqualified from any contest though.

As they left and walked back to school, she was at Sandbar’s side, asking about other pony traditions, and if he knew any stories that weren't in her books.

Arriving back at the School of Friendship, everyone said their goodbyes and good nights, and Ocellus walked into her room. Her body felt exhausted, still drained from the rapid number of changes she had undergone. Leaving her books inside of her bag for the night, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers over herself.

Closing her eyes, sleep began to come quickly. Memories of the night and stories fell away, but in their place, something else bubbled up in her mind.

Images flashed in her mind: forests, caves and islands. Terrified creatures. Their bodies exuded fear, delicious and rich. Their villages grew fat with it.

She closed her eyes tighter, and curled up under the covers. Her stomach twisted.

She told herself it was just her imagination going wild, even as the image of a changeling flashed before her.

She hated it, with every fiber of her being, for betraying what it was.

By morning, when Ocellus awoke, the nightmare had faded. In the early morning light, she felt sick, and the room was tinted a faint crimson.