When people met Moonlight Raven, they more or less thought they had her figured out. They were wrong. Even her own white-bread parents were wrong. There were only a hoofful of souls who had some idea of the kind of pony she was, and they still didn't have the whole picture.

An apathetic goth?

A black sheep?

A creepy eccentric?

Partial truths, nothing more.

Sunshine Smiles was the one creature who had the deepest understanding of Moonlight's nature. When the sunny mare delicately attempted to explain it to others, usually anyone who was bewildered or consternated by Moonlight's behavior, the typical response was, “What? Her? I knew she was different, but I didn't sense any of that!”

Then, eventually, they'd hear things. Rumors, really. But harrowing rumors, nevertheless. And they'd stare at Moonlight as one would stare into a dark and threatening cave. That’s usually when ponies started whispering about recent unsolved murders and the like.

Gag her with a spoon. Creatures could be so dimwitted, they actually gave her a headache.

But she had to admit, the whispers weren’t for nothing. Moonlight hadn't ended up in therapy merely because she was disagreeable with her parents. She hadn't been some petulant foal or an angst-ridden filly.

She'd been a subverter. A reckoner. A fucking knife.

Oh yes. She’d been troubled. Much of her youth was spent feeling perpetually vexed by all the unenlightened and weak ponies around her. She’d let off steam by talking to her sister, collecting dead animals for taxidermy, and… y’know. Setting things on fire. As you do.

Moonlight lay in bed, her black silk sheets feeling cool and luxurious against her hide. In the corner, a wooden clock hung on the wall, its body carved in the likeness of a sinister gargoyle. She listened to its steady ticking. At that moment, she meditated briefly on the relentless march of time, herding all on this plane towards death. When would hers come? She wondered.

Some ponies felt existential dread. Not her. She didn’t have any lingering regrets, nor did she fear saying goodbye to Sunshine or this life. Why should she? They were all going to the same place anyway. But she supposed if she had to do her existence over again, she definitely had some notes.

Moonlight blinked slowly up at the ceiling as she thought of her younger years.

As a filly, she’d been on the cusp of being kicked out of school and sent away. Celestia herself had sat down with Moonlight and her parents for a grim meeting regarding some…incidents that had occurred at school. After a fruitless conversation with Moonlight’s clueless caretakers, Celestia had pulled Moonlight aside to talk. The princess’ aura had been stern, but caring and patient.

Knowing.

After nearly an hour of deep and honest conversation with Moonlight, Celestia’s ageless eyes had looked the goth up and down with a solemn expression. The filly had stared back at her impassively, unashamed of the things she’d admitted. Instead, she’d simply wondered, what was it like, being immortal?

It seemed such a shame to be so far removed from death. Celestia was sun, light, and life. She certainly wasn’t invulnerable, and even during that conversation Moonlight couldn’t help but imagine what Celestia’s bloodless corpse would look like… But if harm came to the princess, then the shadows would lose their meaning, surely. Because without light, what became of the dark? Even night needed its moonlight.

So Moonlight had asked, and Celestia’s answer was to quietly lead her to the school’s library.

There, Celestia produced a book on Eastern philosophy and explained that her commitment to duty and order could be understood through the teachings of Neighjing scholars.

“And so too, I think, will these philosophies help you, Moonlight,” Celestia had told the young goth. Her magenta gaze glowed with radiant power at that moment, making Moonlight’s withers tighten. "For you have a choice,” Celestia murmured, bending her long graceful neck to stare levelly at her student. “You can choose to destroy your life along with those of the ponies around you, and in so doing, reap the consequences of your actions…” The princess’ expression softened. “Or you can find a way to live in concert with the world. In harmony.”

Moonlight had only blinked at the princess in response, at first. Her brow furrowed over tensed eyes. Ponies had tried to “help” her before. She wasn’t sure what made this so different. But something about Celestia’s powerful presence—not just mere confidence, but inevitability—pushed her to open the book. And so Moonlight had read. And read…

And read.

It had been a revelation. A new way forward. Thanks to her princess and headmaster’s suggestion, and by her own diligent study, she had transformed herself into something that both fit her values and somehow managed to jive with society. Mostly. It had been enough for her, at any rate. And it had been enough for everyone else, too. Her parents had thrown away the boarding school brochures, and Celestia had never felt the need to speak to her again.

Moonlight had graduated among the top five of her graduating class. She still couldn’t remember any of her fellow classmates’ names. They didn’t matter, blind sheep that they were.

Still. It would be nice to be better understood. Nice. Not necessary. As she saw it, having a small circle that comprehended her shadowy nature was the ideal and limit. If she could become friends with Eerie Lantern, she'd probably draw the line there. But if others understood her underlying beliefs for why she lived life the way she did, which was still only a surface understanding of who she really was, even that would streamline her dealings with others. But actually bothering to get others to comprehend…?

Moonlight was pretty sure it was easier to spank a shaved monkey into singing an aria.

Case in point: whenever she made the rare mistake of attempting to explain chi to somepony not in the know, Moonlight Raven was stared at as though she were crazy. Universal power? Life force? Vital energy? Predictably, most ponies just didn’t get it. Many wandered off in the middle of her speech. The ones who were too polite to do that just asked moronic questions.

Did she perhaps mean unicorn magic? The power of cutie marks?

Sorry, quick question—maybe rude, but they were curious—was she on medication??

Moonlight would change the subject. Or, y’know, just stop talking and leave, because hey, not dealing with idiots was always a swell choice.

Freaking hoof-sucking plebeians.

Like… okay. She supposed she wasn’t very good at explaining things. She didn’t talk to others much besides her sister. Sunshine may have been annoying and naïve, but she wasn’t dumb.

Still, as Moonlight Raven rose from her small dark bed—her room fragrant with the scents of frankincense and myrrh, the surroundings thick with evening shadow—she pondered a better way of phrasing her understanding of Eastern philosophy. This was an effort she usually reserved solely for her sister, but she was actually trying to expand her circle. Even now, despite the setbacks of yesterday. Because as precarious as her position with Eerie Lantern was at the moment, she felt there was still a chance for understanding. Otherwise, the skittish unicorn would never have accepted Moonlight’s help.

So Moonlight began her day—or rather, night—stretching on her mauve shag rug with a few yoga poses as she tried to think of the most succinct explanation. After all, you never knew. She may actually get a chance to say it. And opportunity favored a ready mind, right?

Moonlight’s eyes narrowed as she moved through sphinx, cobra, upward dog, and downward dog. Then, she transitioned straight into a thread-the-needle pose. All the while, she thought…

When used in a broad sense, chi was simply a general term referring to the natural forces of the universe. Like wind and earth. It wasn’t strictly referring to life, but it did fuel existence and shape the world as all ponies knew it. And when referred to living beings, like ponies? It specifically meant biological energy. Breaking down the ancient Neighjing character for chi (氣), you find the pictographs for “air” (气) and “rice” (米). Through a scientific lens, all this was defining was the process by which chi was produced via oxygen and glucose.

She was literally referring to kilocalories of energy. Biological electricity. That was all. It made it sound a lot less bitchin’, if she was being honest, but the universe had plenty of mysteries without answers. This didn’t need to be one of them.

Or maybe it could be? It wasn’t as if Moonlight didn’t have some pride in her dark mystique. She was just weary sometimes. Weary of the misunderstandings. She’d been content to be alone for the rest of her life, save her sister, but she knew life could be cruel and any horrible accident could whisk Sunshine away, leaving her truly alone. Morbid thoughts, yes, but that was just who Moonlight was.

Did that fully explain her protectiveness of Sunshine? Maybe.

Moonlight slunk over to her black vanity dresser and gazed at her silhouette in the mirror.

Never mind that her sibling was absent-minded, annoyingly optimistic, and almost the exact opposite of who Moonlight was. What mattered, what really mattered, was that Sunshine tried to understand. Sometimes she even managed to. The other important thing? She kept Moonlight from being bored out of her freaking mind.

Sure, totally. Darkness was sick and all, but the void was something else. That was unrivaled nothingness.

It was more a personal concept for Moonlight and not a universally accepted use of the term. When she thought of the void, she imagined a state of existence. A cage of isolation and monotony so dense you’d need to smoke a pipe or quaff a drug elixir just to inoculate yourself from the endlessness of it. Which was precisely how she’d dealt with it the last time her sister had to leave for a weeklong training seminar in Vanhoover.

So, yes. Sometimes Sunshine could be a real pain in the flank. But the trouble was worth it to keep the void at bay. Without these important functions, she had to admit that she’d probably not speak to her sister at all.

Moonlight sighed heavily, her normally coiffed mane lacking its signature curl as it drooped into her amber eyes. Her horn lit up with her deep soft blue aura, gently illuminating a small sphere around her in the gloom as she picked up her brush from the vanity and began to comb her hair.

She loved her sister. She did… In her own black and pragmatic way.

Because Sunshine kept Moonlight from being bored. Because she understood chi. Because she helped to pay the rent. Because she tried to understand. Because she cooked good food. Because she could be possessed by ghosts in a way that Moonlight couldn’t.

Actually, that last point caused a rare flare-up of envy in Moonlight. She’d tried allowing herself to be possessed once, back when she was much younger, and had underestimated the amount of energy the effort required. It hadn’t gone well. Something about the deep darkness that made up her soul made her unappealing to ghosts looking to experience the vibrancy of life.

Whatever. Moonlight didn’t need to be possessed to interact with the afterlife. She could sense their energy in ways that even Sunshine couldn’t, after all. She just couldn’t interface with them directly. It wasn’t a big deal.

It wasn’t.

She continued to repeat this thought as she set her brush down and stared across the blackness of her room toward her bedroom door. She envisioned Sunshine Smiles hanging from the door’s coat hook fixture, her nostrils dripping blood, her tongue lolling out, and her bloodshot eyes bugged.

Moonlight took a deep breath and sighed again, a deeper exhale to exorcise herself of the terrible image.

The ideas came to her, unbidden. Sometimes she found them mildly amusing. Other times they agitated her. But did she ever feel disturbed? No. She knew this was just the manifestation of the underworld speaking through her. She’d always resisted it.

It was one thing to love the dark. It was another thing to let the dark rule you.

This was another large reason she was conservative of her chi. The Neighjing healers of old had once interpreted biological electricity as a type of living fire. It turned out they weren't quite right, but it was appropriate for the analogy she used to remind herself.

If Moonlight unleashed her living fire, she’d burn everything.

She didn’t feel most emotions like others did. Like, she felt them, all right? But it was just different. Muted. So when she was younger, she’d learned to feign them, to try and put others more at ease. To try and fit in. Not that it had mattered. She’d been shunned by society anyway.

That used to make her angry, but now she was indifferent. Society was comprised of fools, and their laws were like a security blanket they drew around themselves. It didn’t save them from the mysteries of the universe. It didn’t save them from death, that thing normies were too afraid to contemplate. To even acknowledge.

Other ponies were bugs, and she didn’t care to spend energy on the unenlightened. But sometimes, they did earn her ire.

Anger and depression needed controlling and managing. These things she could feel without trouble, and keenly, too. She was good at controlling these emotions now. Not that her sister thought this was enough.

Sunshine suspected that Moonlight suffered from an imbalance of chakras. It was from a different school of thought than the one the goth followed, but Moonlight was familiar with it from her own studies. It had its own merits, she supposed.

Moonlight’s anahata, swadishtana, and mooladhara chakras were weak. These were the chakras that governed love and forgiveness, sexuality and power, and family and social belonging. Moonlight couldn’t disagree, because she was lacking in all these things.

Though she’d argued with her sister some about her swadishtana chakra. Surely Moonlight had some power? She just chose not to exercise it. After all, thanks to her efforts to fit in as a foal, she’d learned to observe others. She could imitate patterns of speech. Certain mannerisms.

All right, fine, maybe her smiles were a bit rusty, but if she thought hard, Moonlight could figure out the right things to say to get ponies to do what she wanted. Sometimes, she didn’t even need to bother with the false charm. She could just leverage the right information.

In the present, Moonlight picked up the brush again with her aura and began to comb her tail, her expression impassive as she recalled the concerned look on her sister’s face when she’d said that. Sunshine had quietly and gently explained to her, with just the tiniest quiver in her voice, that manipulating others was not a power to aspire to. Moonlight had pursed her lips, but ceased her arguments. Sunshine was right, of course. Moonlight knew she was right.

Manipulating ponies was troublesome. It was hard keeping all the lies straight, and it took too much effort to scare them into compliance. It was far more beneficial to speak the truth and abide by laws… As annoying and stupid as Moonlight thought society’s laws were.

When Moonlight had taken to heart the teachings of Neighjing philosophers and scholars, her life had improved. At least in that she was not inconvenienced as much. The teachings of ancient ponies gave her a clearer understanding of others. And herself.

Fire and water had chi, but lacked life. Trees and grass had life, but lacked perceptivity. Birds and beasts had perceptivity, but lacked a sense of right and wrong, of duty and justice—in other words, yi. Ponies and other intelligent creatures had chi, and perceptivity, and yi. Though, this last one, she struggled with.

She had a sense of duty. Yeah. Justice? Sure, totally. Right and wrong? Uh… Yes. She did. Kind of. In the way that she knew doing something “right” would earn her a thank you and maybe even a reciprocal favor, and that doing something “wrong” would earn her jail and fines.

In other words, she gained opportunity one way, and inconvenience the other way. That was how Moonlight saw it. Opportunity versus inconvenience. That was all.

So if she could get away with it…? “It” being whatever she thought she had a right to do?

Even then she usually still refrained. Mostly because she knew that the truth had a way of revealing itself. That, and Sunshine would be upset with her if she found out the goth had crossed lines. Moonlight didn’t want to lose her sibling.

Sunshine was such a good roommate. And she could be possessed by ghosts. That was cool.

Though her sister had already caught Moonlight before in the middle of perpetrating something unlawful. Just a few times. Tiny infractions, really.

Pouring a mild poison into a teacher’s coffee mug. Trying to set fire to a rude merchant’s stall. Pushing a bully down a flight of stairs.

That last one had been for Sunshine. The colt had been spreading rumors about her. Moonlight’s sister didn’t really care for the justification and angrily made her younger sibling turn herself in. After they’d levitated the bully to the nurse’s office, that is. Moonlight had to explain she wasn’t trying to kill him.

Puh-lease. As if five steps of stairs were enough to murder somepony. What was with everyone? Were they idiots?

If Moonlight had wanted to kill him, there were far more efficient ways of going about it.

That argument hadn’t really gone over well, though.

No. She’d never murdered anyone. Thought about it? Fine. Yeah. So what? Who didn’t think about that now and again? Maybe, she thought about it more than others. The darkness that billowed out from her black heart was powerful sometimes, okay?

Sheep dreamt of grass. Predators dreamt of blood. It was just how the world worked.

Sunshine hadn’t talked to Moonlight for three days over that debacle. The goth had never been so bored before. And annoyed. Like, woah, overreact much?

Still… She’d needed to make better use of her perceptivity. She’d needed to cultivate her sense of yi. It was important to remember, always: opportunity versus inconvenience. So Moonlight had learned. And from that, she’d grown.

But there had definitely been growing pains. She’d revealed too much of her otherness before. Been a little too honest about her thoughts. And as practiced as she was now at self-control, that didn’t mean she didn’t still lose it every once in a while.

Last year she’d poisoned a stallion for making Sunshine Smiles cry. It’d caused him violent diarrhea. In public.

That had earned her both a night in jail and a court-ordered run of intense therapy, which in turn led to a hateful run of medications. More overreactions. The poison had been non-lethal. Still, Sunshine had stayed with friends for a week out of objection to her sister’s actions and… maybe also out of a little fear? Sunshine Smiles insisted that she knew Moonlight wouldn’t hurt her, but…

Ugh. The boredom that brought. Such inconvenience.

During her court hearing, their parents had pleaded for the court’s mercy. “Moonlight Raven has a condition, your honor! She has anti-social personality disorder!” they’d cried.

Those morons really thought they’d been helping by revealing her private medical history to the general public.

Tartarus, she really freaking loathed that they’d done that. So much so that she’d wished bats would eat their eyes. Only… Shit, they didn’t do that kind of thing, did they? Darn. Well. She’d settle for some guano getting crapped on their ignorant heads. Or shedding fur on their food. Whatever.

In lieu of her bat-themed revenge, Moonlight had left some roadkill on her parents’ front porch. To this day they still weren’t on speaking terms. That, she could live with.

As Moonlight worked through a knot in her tail with her brush, her eyes turned up to her dark ceiling in thought. The carved gargoyle clock ticked away somberly, the sound filling the room.

What had she left on the porch again? Ah, of course. She remembered the raccoon whose face had been gnawed and rotted away. The corpse had already been desiccated the day she’d deposited it, with patches of fur falling out, leaving its odor of death not so overpowering. It was not so bad until one beheld the creature’s rictus grin.

Moonlight’s lips tilted up a little as she ran the brush through her tail without any more resistance, the soft glow of her aura illuminating her macabre amusement.

For a little while, before that stupidity with the court and the rehab, it had looked like she was escaping her past reputation. Sure, the ponies of Canterlot still remembered, but she worked in a far-flung suburb known as Barley’s End. There, she’d been simply known as a somewhat spooky eccentric.

Not a vengeful sociopath with violent ideations who collected dead things.

She’d been that way more in her youth, when she was wasteful with her chi and invested in misguided campaigns to get back at anyone who hurt her or Sunshine. She didn’t feel ashamed of her past actions. But the consequence of her past being spread to the people of Barley’s End meant that she was refused business.

There had been a baker she’d liked to purchase loaves from on her way home from work. Now he refused to even let her in the store.

Opportunity versus inconvenience. That was all she saw.

Moonlight supposed if she’d really wanted a fresh start, she could have moved somewhere else, farther away. Maybe Fillydelphia or Manehattan. She’d even find it interesting to pioneer the Badlands now that the Storm King was no longer in power. Rumor was the lands were nearly lawless, and the corpses she could examine… Sometimes she daydreamed about going there.

But that needed so much chi, not just in the moving, but in the forging of new relationships. Even in her anti-social existence, she was still aware that connections were useful and sometimes profitable. Moonlight was poor in those. Still, she had a hoof-full of functional, if not warm, working partnerships.

Her boss, Morticia Mane, did not mind Moonlight’s nature, being somewhat grim herself. They didn’t talk much unless strictly necessary. The emergency medical ponies, or EMPs, who shuttled in bodies from around the hamlet and from deeper within Canterlot—Flash Responder and Swift Aid—were clearly wary of her, but they kept it professional. There was also Booksmart, a librarian at the Canterlot Library who dutifully assisted Moonlight in finding books for her metaphysical research. The older mare only ever looked askance at her when she checked out a plethora of true crime and anatomy books.

But none of them were friends. Not one of them was somepony she felt she could trust on any level outside of their working functions.

Sunshine was different. Sometimes, Moonlight felt what she thought others called love for her annoying sibling. And so too, Moonlight had hoped—still hoped—Eerie Lantern could be her companion in darkness.

Moonlight’s brow tensed as she finished styling her mane and tail. She began applying her makeup, still only using the glow of her magical aura as a light source. She barely needed it, really. While her style was “on point” as Sunshine would say, it hadn’t changed since she’d graduated from Celestia’s School of Magic. Changing one’s appearance all the time took too much energy. A frivolous pursuit. Moonlight could still look nice and preserve her time thanks to her practiced routine.

She aspired to a timeless elegance, akin to the stillness of the dead.

Eerie would have understood that. Moonlight had sensed it first from her aura, and it had been confirmed by the mare’s own morbid words. Eerie didn’t want to be of the living. She wanted to be one with the dead. But she was held fast by her yi, her sense of duty, to remain alive. How else could she help other ghosts? It was a conundrum Moonlight could sympathize with.

“Such a tragic burden,” she murmured in the darkness. With practiced ease, she traced a thick line of eyeliner.

She put the finishing touches on her makeup with some powder on her muzzle and set down her applicator brush. She gazed at her silhouette as the magic faded from her horn.

Moonlight felt something stir in her chest. Wistfulness. Longing.

That strange and skittish mare, Eerie Lantern… She could understand her. She could. They shared so many things in common.

So then how had yesterday’s lunch date gone so wrong?

She supposed it was her fault. Inviting herself over had been the first misstep. She’d been impulsive. She should’ve watched Eerie first. Maybe followed her home and listened at the windows… Though, Moonlight supposed, the ghosts would have spotted her and warned Eerie.

No, on second thought, she should have tried to emulate Sunshine more. Gone slower. Been more ingratiating. Moonlight could never bring herself to be as shiny as her sister, but she could feign charm when necessary. Only…

Moonlight snorted softly. That hadn’t been the point, had it? Why present a facade if what she’d truly wanted was to find someone who could understand and tolerate her darkness the way Sunshine did? She’d wanted somepony she could be herself with. Not more lies. Not more wasteful effort to cultivate fake relationships.

But Eerie Lantern was not just afraid of the living, she also didn’t trust them. Another sentiment Moonlight could sympathize with.

Only, how could she overcome such a barrier? Without guile and manipulation, Moonlight was bereft of her usual tactics. She’d been ready to give up right then and there upon encountering it. After all, changing hearts and minds was not her strong suit. No, she capitalized on others’ goals, bending them to suit her own.

But then that little ghost, Mister Double… he’d…

Moonlight lifted her head, took another deep breath to steady her resolve, then left her bedroom.

Mister had inadvertently given her another chance. In recognition of this, she vowed to bring him peace. She was alive and could do what he could not, and even in her limited supernatural sense she could perceive his suffering. Most importantly, her sense of duty, however faint, compelled her to act.

It was the right thing to do. A worthy cause to expend her precious energy for.

It was an opportunity. Not an inconvenience. Not to her.

She was on-call at the funeral home from midnight to noon. The place also served as a coroner’s office for Barley’s End and the surrounding villages, whenever the sheriff required it. By choice, she’d spent a lot of that time at the funeral home. A long stint, sure, sometimes leaving her with not much to do but finish paperwork and ensure the bodies didn’t jump up and run away. It wasn’t like she spent every waking second there. But she preferred the company of the dead. When not engaged with work, she used the time to study the metaphysical, biology, and forensic science.

After her run-in with the law last year, Moonlight had been limiting how much extra time she spent at the morgue. Morticia may have been grim, but Moonlight was sure she’d object to her spending so much time with corpses unsupervised. To avoid that issue, she’d reluctantly kept her distance.

Not that she did anything untoward with the corpses, like, ever. She wasn’t a pervert.

But Moonlight did like to pull them out of the magically refrigerated drawers and just…gaze at them. She’d cast the same spell she’d used on the small creatures she’d once collected as a child, and with great relish, she’d experience their last moments. Ponies provided much more vivid sensations and even sometimes foggy visions.

Not all the deaths were terribly interesting. A lot of staring at the ceiling while loved ones cried around your death bed. Some deaths hurt too much, thrilling as they were. Others were tragic, and these were her favorite. They were beautiful agony. The last wretched petals spiraling from the fragrant bloom of a pony’s life.

Could she have such an exquisite final chapter written for her life? Moonlight didn’t know. That’d be cool, she guessed. Except that sort of required having actual relationships, however tumultuous. She wasn’t very good at the whole social thing, yet.

At least there would always be her sister…

Sunshine was asleep upstairs. Moonlight wasn’t worried about waking her—ironically enough, her sister slept like a corpse—but she had business at the funeral home. Morticia had gotten in touch with her just before bedtime in the afternoon. An elder pony in the area wasn’t given much longer to live. The family expected them to pass overnight. Her boss would meet with the EMPs who would bring the body in, then if there was nothing out of the ordinary, she’d return home and leave Moonlight to prepare the body for burial herself.

Moonlight didn’t show it, but she was excited. She wanted to savor that anticipation in peace, but…

Eating breakfast in the middle of the night was usually a quiet affair. That didn’t necessarily mean peaceful. Moonlight was resigned to the fact that true peace would only ever be found in the depths of nature when the sun was gone or waning, or when sealed away in the confines of her shadowy room, meditating on the mysteries of existence. But even here in the breakfast nook she shared with her sister, Moonlight was not alone.

Behind her, picture frames and plant pots levitated into the air as a floating duster swept around the shelves. Their ghostly guest.

Moonlight chewed her oatmeal and blueberries carefully, staring ahead at nothing. Then the glossy finish on the table fogged up and words appeared on the dark mahogany surface.

Forgive me for disturbing your breakfast, Miss Raven, but I was curious how your lunch date went yesterday.

Moonlight sighed. She’d wipe the words away with her foreleg, but she refrained. It was a wasted effort, and rude, she knew. “Ask Sunshine,” she muttered before taking another languid bite of her food.

The words disappeared on their own; then new words appeared.

I’m afraid Miss Smiles wouldn’t tell me. The poor thing seemed rather sad. Did things go awry?

“You could say that,” Moonlight replied, her voice somehow going even flatter than usual.

Ah, I see. I am very sorry to hear that, miss. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask. I will leave you to eat your meal in peace. Good evening.

Moonlight’s eyes tensed a fraction. It wouldn’t be noticeable to anypony apart from Sunshine and the unseen presence she was speaking to.

Setting her spoon down, the goth pony turned her head toward the place where the duster was now carefully sweeping over a large antique vase.

“Steadfast Harmony.”

The feather duster paused, then floated over to hover near her. Words appeared on the table again.

Yes, Miss Raven? How may I serve you?

“Stop bending and scraping, Steady. It’s a drag. Sunshine’s told you before, you’re not our servant.” Moonlight’s ear flicked, once, a small sign of her displeasure as she stared levelly at the spot near the feather duster. A tingling aura, one belonging to a unicorn spirit, lingered near her. Moonlight didn’t literally see any ghost auras. She knew exactly where they were, though, purely by feeling. Like a wind blowing from a certain direction, or sunlight warming you from a specific side. The spiritual energy tickled her mind.

The reply on the table was swift.

I am in debt to you both for freeing me. I choose to express my respect and appreciation for you through deference and service, miss. That is all. It was, after all, my greatest talent in life.

Moonlight couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Fine. I guess.”

Steadfast Harmony. A middle-aged unicorn from Trottingham. Her spirit was tied to an antique standing mirror that Sunshine had found two years ago during a rare vacation to the large city. Steadfast had worked as a maid for what appeared to be most of her life, though they had yet to sort out all the details of her past existence.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t find the answers. Steadfast had insisted they not trouble themselves. Why? Because she already had an idea of how she’d died.

The final thoughts that Steadfast had been repeating within the confines of her anchor was:

Why me? Why would he—wait… Who is that?!

Cold-blooded murder. Clearly. But Steadfast was disinclined to uncover the details or even explore any living relatives she may yet have to visit.

Not that lugging around a heavy carved standing mirror would have been easy, and long term possession was tricky for someone even as practiced as Sunshine, but nevertheless, Moonlight and Sunshine had offered.

It was nice to have someone to clean the house, Moonlight supposed. She just disliked the stuffy formality.

And the hovering.

“The lunch date, like, went south. Hard,” she went on to her ghostly companion. She turned her attention back to her food, her magic lifting the spoon for another bite of oatmeal. She chewed calmly but with a smidge more energy. Moonlight wasn’t so concerned with etiquette usually, but she knew that Steady hated it when she talked with her mouth full. Also, she’d have to eat faster if she was going to get sucked into a conversation and still leave when she wanted to.

After swallowing, she continued. “We got there, but it turned out Eerie Lantern wasn’t really interested in having guests. She was trying to scare us away with her ghost friends when one of them, a little colt, couldn’t resist Sunshine’s aura and possessed her.”

Oh dear.

Moonlight gave a slight nod. “One of Eerie’s ghosts started making books fly all over the place, big ones, so I grabbed Sunshine and we ran. But the colt ghost was still in my sister. I didn’t realize it till we’d made it to the pumpkin patch. I was going to expel him, but Sunshine regained control and stopped me.”

Were either of them at risk of fusing together?

That was the phenomenon as they had come to call it. Eerie and her ghosts called it melding. They also had a different name for the objects or locations that ghosts tended to be tied to. Haunts. Moonlight and Sunshine had taken to calling them anchors, but she had to admit, haunts sounded appropriately mystical. She resolved to start using the term right away. Plagiarism was a form of flattery, she was pretty sure.

“Sunshine had it in control,” Moonlight said in answer to Steadfast’s question. “But then Eerie showed up.”

She made herself a few minutes late explaining the rest of it. But unless she received an urgent messenger, it was probably fine. She detailed to her ghostly companion the confrontation with Eerie. The telling of Mister Double’s demise. And then… Moonlight’s offer to help.

Steadfast was particularly keen about that.

That was very generous of you, Miss Raven. I may not be familiar with this poor colt, but you have my thanks for taking up his cause. I knew that ghostly foals must exist somewhere, but to hear his tale brings much sorrow to my dead heart.

Moonlight rose from her seat and levitated her now empty bowl to the kitchen sink. She blinked dispassionately at the place where she felt Steady’s spirit linger. “His dark death was interesting to hear, and without him, I wouldn’t have a way to get on Eerie’s good side. It’s worth the effort just for that.”

She glanced at the table to see if Steadfast had anything else to say. When nothing came, Moonlight turned to fetch her saddlebag. She’d already packed a modest bag of bits, a small lunch, and two books inside. One was a history book. The other was a true crime novel. Given the expected death tonight, she figured sitting in the morgue wouldn’t be as big a deal this time around. It had been a few weeks since she’d had an adequate reason and she was glad for the excuse.

Just as she was fastening the straps against her barrel, she felt a cold tap on her shoulder. Blinking, Moonlight turned her head.

In the corner of the room sat Steadfast’s standing mirror. It had once resided in Sunshine’s room, but out of an effort to give the ghost more access to their home it had been moved to the living room.

Steadfast’s spirit was next to it now, and her aura was not just tingling, it was prickling. The reflective glass fogged suddenly, and words appeared on the mirror’s face, written much more slowly than before.

Miss Raven, forgive my impudence, but I feel I must ask. You truly do intend to help the colt, don’t you? Perhaps doing this may benefit your own goals, but even if Eerie Lantern made it clear she wanted nothing to do with you afterward, you would still assist him, yes?

Moonlight considered the words for a short moment. Then she nodded. “Yeah. It’s, like, a matter of duty. Y’know?”

I do. Then I wish you great success. And if there is anything I may do to assist you in this endeavor, I fervently hope that you would call on me.

The goth nodded, then left the house.

Steadfast was aware of Moonlight’s mental condition. Unlike other ghosts they’d briefly hosted in the past, she hadn’t been as disconcerted by it. In the beginning, she’d been wary, but after two years she was mostly at ease with her. Mostly. Moonlight did notice that Steadfast always seemed to be around when she was in the vicinity of the standing mirror. Was she worried that Moonlight might suddenly decide to destroy it? She couldn’t really begrudge the caution, even if it was a useless concern.

Moonlight would never destroy a ghost’s anchor. Why would she? That would be such a stupid waste of chi, and completely counterproductive to her interests. She wanted to know what the afterlife was like. You couldn’t do that if you snuffed out ghosts like candles.

The unfortunate business with Mister Double notwithstanding. She hadn’t realized he was a colt, first of all, and second of all, she’d had no idea where his anchor—no, his haunt had been. How could she have known that ejecting him out of Sunshine so far from Eerie’s house could have destroyed him? At the time it had really felt like they’d been under genuine attack. All that screaming… And those books that had been flying around at high speed had been big. Really big.

Moonlight felt a flicker of irritation, and her withers tightened a fraction with sudden defensiveness. No. She didn’t murder people and she didn’t destroy ghosts. Not on purpose, anyway.

It was inconvenient. Too inconvenient. There was more opportunity if you left others unharmed. What was so hard to understand about that? Did others take her for a fool?

But maybe Steadfast really did understand. She was just being practical. After all, how did you behave around a predator? Only an idiot would turn their back on a tiger.

And with that, Moonlight felt centered again.

As Steady had explained, many years ago, Trottingham’s nobility had once known a number of lords and ladies afflicted with, what she’d called, “predatory temperaments.” The way she’d told it, they went one of two ways: either they became cruel and bloodthirsty war leaders, or they were cold and ruthless politicians.

Those had been different times, and Moonlight could respect both paths.

She supposed, in a lot of ways, she was still trying to figure out her path in life. Society may have come to tolerate her presence, but she was still an outsider. She still lacked a sense of belonging. Somehow, she knew this was what Celestia had really challenged her to find. A place in society.

But could there ever be such a place for one as twisted as her?

The crisp night air gripped her, and Moonlight took a bracing breath, as she trotted at a brisk pace down the paved road. She didn’t mind the cold. Deep in the reaches of unlife, she was sure that existence was frigid. Steadfast Harmony reported feeling nothing except the chill of death.

Moonlight felt sure her hardiness in low temperatures was another sign of her alien nature. She didn’t respond to the cold like other ponies did. During the winter, Sunshine forced herself to get up in the middle of the night just to ensure that her sister was properly protected from the cold before she left for her nightly work shifts.

In the past, Sunny’d had to drag in her younger-by-a-minute sibling in from the snow, half-frozen to death, all because Moonlight had spent too long meditating about the cold supernatural existence that awaited them on the other side.

That was another thing Sunshine was good for. Keeping Moonlight from careening into the shadows she so loved.

The walk to Barley’s End was a decent one. Not terribly long, but not so short, either. It was located at the base of Canterlot’s mountain. She passed by sparse collections of homes and businesses built on the cliffs, and in some cases, abodes built into the mountain itself. Over the years, Canterlot had grown. Soon these scattered dwellings would be connected to become another suburb. But for now, Barley’s End was Canterlot’s first and only true suburb.

And it was deathly quiet in the cobbled roads. Moonlight slowed down a little to appreciate the way Luna’s moonlight cast long shadows that twisted into tormentous shapes across the streets. She passed by the local blacksmith’s, the forges dark and empty. She passed by the Foam Head, the local tavern. She stopped to eye the wooden stocks in the heart of the town’s plaza.

They didn’t used to be a normal fixture for the hamlet, but after an incident last year with the town’s resident tinker pony, Silver Spanner, the stocks were now rolled out for short term lesser punishments regularly. It seemed they’d been used recently and the town’s sheriff had neglected to put the stocks away. Moonlight lamented that no one was ever kept overnight, but she did get a ghoulish pleasure whenever she saw the latest unfortunate fool to end up trapped this way. Usually, it was in the afternoon on her way home from work after a long night shift.

Canterlot had taken objection to the stocks' implementation. Something about it reflecting badly on them. Cruel and unusual punishment. Whatever. Moonlight didn’t care about irrelevant politics.

She just loved how wicked cool the thing looked, silhouetted by the moon.

When she arrived at the mortuary, she felt mildly annoyed to see Morticia Mane waiting inside for her.

Morticia was a dark purple unicorn with a long dark mane that draped over her neck and swept to mid-leg. Like Moonlight, she had heavy eye makeup, but whereas the goth preferred a colorless lip gloss, Morticia favored a matte blood-red lipstick. Moonlight’s employer was also dressed in a slim black dress, no train this time, but she’d seen Morticia in outfits that featured as much along with dark sequins that glittered. For funeral showings or meetings with clients. Now? She was dressed practically, if still fashionably.

The funeral home owner rose from her desk in the small office nearest the front entrance. “Moonlight,” she called. “I’m glad I caught you. You may have more than just Mrs. Dartwing to care for tonight. I just got word that another pony in a nearby town was moved to hospice care. They’re losing the fight to some sort of blood disease. Do you think you can handle it, or would you like my assistance?”

Moonlight didn’t even need to think about it. “No, I’ve got it. I don’t think I can finish two bodies in one night by myself, but I can at least have the second body ready for you when your shift starts later.”

Morticia gazed at her with tensed eyes and pursed lips. “All right. Just don’t slack on safety protocol. I’m sure Flash and Swift will alert us to any special risks regarding handling the corpse, but I want you extra careful regardless.”

The goth nodded, completely unfazed. Sometimes they took in cases like this one. Not all local hospitals had funeral homes willing to handle deceased bodies that could be carriers of disease. That and handling forensic work at all hours was what made Morticia’s Funeral Services for the Loved and Departed such a unique and sought-after establishment.

It also made it very difficult to find other employees. With just Morticia and Moonlight working, they were terribly short-staffed. Morticia had “Help Wanted” ads out for two more mortuary assistants, but it had been months since she’d even interviewed a candidate. Moonlight had tried to get Sunshine to consider the daytime position, but her sister had been adamant that she preferred, “working with living bodies, thank you very much!”

Morticia lingered by the funeral home entrance, her brow furrowed. She watched as Moonlight began to make her way to the rear doors that delved deeper into the building. The front area was home to Morticia’s office, where she spoke to clients, as well as a small waiting lobby where coat hooks lined the walls for visiting guests to hang their belongings. To the right was a doorway to a modest selection room, where different caskets were displayed.

Directly from the funeral home’s main entrance was a set of double doors that opened into a large space filled with seats. That was the state room, where families and friends could pay their last respects before cremation or burial. In the back of the state room was another set of double doors that led to the preparation room. This was where Moonlight did the majority of her work. Morticia had figured out early on that Moonlight wasn’t keen on interacting directly with the breathing clients.

Just as the goth pony opened one of the doors to the state room, Morticia called to her again. “Moonlight?”

Moonlight paused and looked at her.

Morticia’s gaze felt shrewd as she searched her employee’s face. “I’ve never left you alone with two bodies before. Are you sure you’ll manage? I don’t mind staying.”

Moonlight stared back at her for a long time.

The ripple of her incarceration last year still lapped at her hooves, apparently. Maybe Morticia had heard a new rumor. Or maybe this had always been a concern of hers. Why else did she insist on seeing each body as they arrived, no matter the hour?

To know what the corpses looked like beforehand in case Moonlight did anything inappropriate.

The goth sighed. Inconvenience upon inconvenience.

“I can handle it. Get some rest. We don’t know when the EMPs will get here,” Moonlight said with a terse nod.

What she really wanted to say was, Go away, but that seldom helped in these situations.

Morticia gazed at her for a moment longer before finally nodding and turning away. “All right, kid. Fine. But I may hang around after the first body gets here in case the second comes in soon after that. Even if it means napping at my desk. I don’t really feel like trotting back and forth over and over if I can help it. Ruins the hooficure, if you catch my drift.”

Moonlight sighed a little but turned to resume her trek to the prep room. She heard Morticia leave and let her eyes narrow just a fraction.

So her recent run-in with the law had damaged Morticia’s trust in her. Great. Having a reputation wasn’t any fun unless she could use it as leverage. These days it just kept finding ways to annoy and hinder her.

At times moving to the Badlands felt more and more like a good idea.

However, it was time to put more work toward her promise. Additionally, Moonlight had already taken the most important step the day prior. After her quick stop at the library to pick up the two books she currently carried, she also took some time to search for any news regarding Black Clover.

Given its size and resources, the Canterlot Library was one of the first to implement the use of microfiche readers, and their collection of microfiche, which were just microphotographs of newspapers and magazines from across the kingdom arranged on four by six sheets, grew regularly. Eager to help, Sunshine had sat alongside Moonlight as they poured over records from Dodge City and its surrounding towns.

Though they didn’t find anything about Black Clover, they did find something about Breezy Puff, Mister’s youngest sibling. Six months ago, the mare had celebrated her seventy-seventh birthday, and there was an announcement about it in a Dodge City newspaper. Satisfied with that information, the siblings had left the library. Moonlight then hurried on her own to Canterlot’s Government Administrative Offices.

There she’d stopped by the Royal Office of Vital Records just before they closed for the evening. She’d been exhausted—ordinarily, she’d have slept hours ago—but this was worth the effort. Speaking to the clerk, Moonlight had made rare use of her charm to first ingratiate herself to the mare, then she’d tactfully requested information regarding Breezy Puff’s current place of residence.

“Are you a relative of Breezy Puff?” the clerk had innocently asked. Simply following protocol. Checking off boxes.

Like a good little drone.

Moonlight had pursed her lips and turned the corners of her mouth down like she’d observed Morticia and the EMPs do when discussing the circumstances of a client’s death. She'd said in her gravest, most earnest voice, “I’m afraid I’m a mortician working out of Barley’s End, miss. I’m very sorry to say that I’m seeking next of kin for a deceased client.”

“Oh my!” the clerk had gasped, her hooves flying to her mouth.

Then Moonlight had bobbed her head like Sunshine did when listening to their neighbors' latest woes and troubles. Newlyweds, struggling financially. The goth didn’t speak to the neighbors. She thought they were mouthbreathers. But she could mimic her sister’s care and consideration, with some effort. And a bit of a headache.

“It’s truly tragic, miss,” the goth had said with the slightest warble to her voice. “Their funeral is soon, and their last dying wish was to have their loved ones there. I know it’s, like, a bit of an imposition, but it would mean so much if I could get Breezy Puff’s home residence. It’s super important. My boss is breathing down my neck about it!” Just to seal the deal and add a layer of legitimacy to her claim, Moonlight had dug out her employee ID from her saddlebag and flashed it.

The clerk’s eyes had seemed to widen with every uttered word. At the sight of Moonlight’s ID, finally, finally, she’d nodded her head rapidly and rose from her office chair with all the flair and gravitas one would expect of some pony staying an execution or something.

“You wait right there, Miss Raven,” the clerk had said, her eyes shining. “I’ll get the requisite form for you to sign. I’m afraid I’m not empowered to get you the information immediately, but I’ll make sure my supervisor sees it in the morning. Normally such a request would take at least three days to process, but I’ll make sure my supervisor approves it!”

Moonlight had assured her it was fine and thanked the clerk. She promised to return the next afternoon after her night shift was done.

She was confident this wouldn’t get back to Morticia. Ponies were usually so trusting, and anyway… Who cared? Her cause was just. She wasn’t going to let red tape stop her.

In the meantime, Moonlight wanted to learn more about these ponies and this violent incident so long ago. Sites of death were powerful fonts for power, and if she could, she’d like to visit it. She was also curious as to what Mister’s killer’s motive had been. So many dead foals… For what? Moonlight hungered to know.

She sighed contentedly as she entered the preparation room. It was sterile and cold, with long white counters ladened with clean equipment waiting to be used. On the far wall was the mortuary refrigerator, with each body drawer being magicked with temperature enchantments to keep the bodies nice and cool until they were ready for preparation, autopsy, or display. The center of the room featured two preparation tables where bodies could be laid for the grisly work, whatever it may be.

The far wall had large magic-run machines that helped with the transfer of bodily fluids and embalming fluid. Near them were a set of filing cabinets for current and recent subjects that detailed the condition of the bodies, steps taken to prepare the bodies, and in forensic cases, what autopsies revealed. Anything six months old was moved to Morticia’s business records in her office.

Near these filing cabinets in a corner was Moonlight’s desk. She didn’t get her own office like Morticia, but she didn’t need or want one. She liked the stillness of the preparation room. Her desk was unadorned. Not that she didn’t enjoy decoration, but she had a feeling her animal bones and gargoyle statuettes wouldn’t go over well.

Moonlight removed her saddlebags and set them on her desk. While it was true her ability to research was somewhat limited thanks to the late hour, she still had tools at her disposal.

First, the books she brought. The tomes she unpacked from her saddlebags and laid on her desk had been carefully chosen to extract necessary information she’d try to follow up on when her shift ended.

The history book first. She’d checked it and the other book out from the Canterlot Library on her way home from her afternoon with Eerie and Sunshine. It was a book that covered the history of Dodge City. Its major events, yes, but also its development.

She wanted to know what happened to the swamp where Mister Double and the murderous stallion had perished. Had they destroyed all of it? And what had been built in its place?

Moonlight opened the tome, the pages turning easily as she read over Dodge City’s story. This book was the latest publication to cover the topic, being only three years old, and so she trusted its relevancy. Its accuracy she would have to cross-check, but Booksmart had assured her that the book’s research was reliable.

Placidly, the goth read about Dodge City’s early years, where settlers had first lived in sod houses before upgrading to plaster and shingle homes. The ponies had mined in nearby Rambling Rock Ridge and farmed in the plains near Hayseed Swamps, barely scraping by a living. Then one day, someone discovered oil and the tiny village that had been Mister Double’s home grew exponentially.

Levees and water drainage systems were put in place in the surrounding swamplands to allow the burgeoning city to grow on all sides. It was around this time, nearly seventy years ago, that the swamp land upon which Mister and his killer likely died was reclaimed. Moonlight flipped to the back of the book and alternated between staring at the early settler maps and current-day maps.

It was no good. She needed to examine her next book if she wanted to put the pieces together. Moonlight set the Dodge City book onto the desk, the tome still open to the map pages, and pulled out the next book:

The Gaze Snatcher: The Shocking True Story of Equestria’s Most Diabolical Psycho

It wasn’t an exceptionally large book. Booksmart had informed Moonlight that no other title seemed to cover this killer in as much detail. He was a paragraph in most true crime encyclopedias. A footnote, even, in the Dodge City history book. Compared to other mass murderers and serial killers, the stallion who had killed Mister wasn’t as infamous. But thanks to a tip from Eerie on the killer’s nickname, she didn’t need to do much for a solid heading. Booksmart, being the meticulous librarian that she was, had found this book in short order.

Opening it to the first chapter, Moonlight was greeted with a crude sketch of the killer. He was just as Eerie had described. Hulking. Dark. With a beastly face—veiny and lumpy, and mad. His true name was unknown, but the guards and early news sources had taken to calling him Crimson Gaze, mostly due to his strange glowing red eyes.

“I don’t want to say it where Mister can hear,” Eerie had informed Moonlight and Sunshine solemnly outside of her home the day before. “I’m afraid it’ll haunt him more than he already is.”

Past that, the lavender unicorn didn’t have much more information to add, save for some names of Mister’s family. It was still enough.

Moonlight gazed over the new book with curiosity. Whereas other true crime books of this nature would spend time detailing the early years of a killer, this title lacked such information. Mostly because, along with the stallion’s name, no one knew anything. It was like Crimson Gaze had simply materialized from the ether and began slaughtering innocent foals across the kingdom.

One thing was for certain, however. As Moonlight poured over the sad and grisly accounts by which the foals before Mister had met their violent demises, it eventually would be established via eyewitness accounts that with each death, Crimson’s eyes grew brighter and brighter.

Alongside such reports were his poor eyesight, of which he was apparently obsessed with correcting. Only… Black Clover hadn’t been the first foal to escape Crimson, and survivors of his attacks would go on to state that before the stallion had ripped out their eyes, or tried to, he’d seemed to have a terrifying sixth sense for things. It was unlike the keen observations of a blind pony utilizing their other senses to navigate a world they couldn’t see, but far more like a powerful spell was being used to sense energies.

Moonlight furrowed her brow as she considered this. If Crimson Gaze had been attempting to fuel an ongoing dark spell with the consumption of foal eyes… then what was he really trying to see? It clearly hadn’t been some area of effect spell, otherwise Mister Double wouldn’t have given the stallion the slip in the swamp. And yet, he’d been able to use it on Mister and Black Clover somehow. So what had he…?

The goth’s eyes widened. “Spirits,” she breathed. Or spiritual energy to be exact. Could Crimson have been attempting to see… ghosts?

Heart thumping in her chest, Moonlight continued reading. Towards the end of the book, the account of Mister’s death was covered. His bravery in thwarting Crimson Gaze, and his rescue of Black Clover. Eerie’s account filled in the gaps the villagers and historians couldn’t possibly have covered, but what the book did offer was the aftermath that Eerie had been unable to provide.

Mister Double had indeed been held by his mother as he gradually died in her embrace, wrapped in his favorite blanket as she’d wept over him. A proper doctor would be sent for, but he didn’t arrive in time. The village healer would lack the means to treat the poor foal’s injuries.

Enraged, the villagers defied the royal guards demands for the return of their prisoner and carried the killer stallion back into Hayseed Swamp. Back to the outpost shack where he’d held Black Clover. And there, they’d beaten him within an inch of his life, tarred and feathered him, then hung him from a sturdy tree. It was old-world justice in the truest sense.

As the book wound down with a mournful monologue about the failures of law enforcement, the tragedy of dead foals, and how Crimson Gaze deserved no sympathy, Moonlight sat up when the author began to detail a monument that would be constructed by the ponies of Mister’s village.

A grainy black and white photo displayed a simple plaque being levitated so that the words were visible. Standing beside it front and center was Mister’s family, along with Black Clover, who was sporting an eye patch, and his own family. Surrounding them were what Moonlight assumed had been the mob that had disposed of Crimson Gaze.

The caption below the photograph read, “A dark monument that offers cold comfort to those who had suffered at the hooves of this butcher. Placed at the base of the very tree upon which Crimson Gaze drew his last breath, a plaque reads, ‘Here a brave colt gave his life to save his friend, and with great passion, those who loved him, avenged him. A terrible crime was met with terrible justice. May the innocent rest in peace, and may the living never forget.’”

Eerie had said she and Scarlet had only done enough research to uncover Mister’s surviving relatives and the general fact that all this had occurred. Somewhat defensively, Eerie had reiterated that they hadn’t felt the need to dig deeper as seldom did recalling time of death aid in ghosts moving on. And of such a short life, what could they uncover that wouldn’t also lead to triggered memories of that horrible final moment? They’d felt it safer to deal with Mister only in the present.

Moonlight suspected Eerie’s reluctance to investigate also had to do with not wishing to uncover the salient details of each crime. But Moonlight had no such compunctions. A foal’s death was just another death.

Still, this bit about the memorial… She levitated a notepad, ink pot, and quill from her desk drawer and murmured to herself as she wrote down some notes. “Ask Booksmart for detailed maps of Dodge City. Where is the memorial plaque?” She paused and looked back at the true crime book, still open to the photo showing Black Clover and his family standing next to the tree. The colt was older here. Standing next to him were other young ponies. Had these been Mister’s other friends? Sweet Bug? Lil’ Bulrush?

After a moment’s hesitation, she added a new note. “Are any of Mister’s other friends alive as well?”

The rest of her shift she spent her time resuming her research of Dodge City. Its history was fairly fascinating. The city had been rather lawless in the beginning, hosting a score of murders and even widespread organized crime. It was better now, but Moonlight had a long list of other locations she was interested in visiting as well, including the site of a mob massacre that had occurred a little over forty years ago. Such a site of death was sure to evoke potent visions, she thought.

But then the other delight Moonlight had been anticipating arrived. Dartwing Dipper, an elderly pegasus from the nearby village of Steedington. Her teal coat was faded, and her sagging skin had that telltale scent of the old and infirm. Morticia had been alerted about the arrival and brought in. She spoke briefly with Flash Responder and Swift Aid then came to speak to Moonlight.

“It’s pretty open and shut, this one,” the older mare sighed as the medical wagon could be heard clattering down the cobbled road.

“I can handle it,” Moonlight said. Her tone was still unhurried and maintained its flat affect—it belied the excitement coursing through the goth. Staring steadily at her employer, she said, “Will you sleep in your office until the next body comes?”

“I think so,” Morticia said with a yawn. She looked over Dartwing Dipper’s corpse, laid carefully on its side on one of the preparation tables. “I’d like to sit in for the preliminary examination before I do.”

Moonlight’s lips thinned. “All right.” She levitated a clipboard over to her and moved to stand near the deceased mare’s head.

Even for deceased clients not involved in an investigation, Moonlight and Morticia performed a simple examination that detailed the initial state of the body. It was important, both for itemizing any additional services they had to undertake for preparing the corpses for showings and also in case they stumbled across evidence of foul play. Moonlight had only ever had the joy of finding such evidence one time.

These sorts of examinations were ideally conducted as soon as possible before rigor mortis completely set in. Dartwing’s body was so fresh, she was easy to move and manipulate. Like a giant doll.

Ordinarily, Moonlight truly enjoyed this phase of the process. She enjoyed all stages of autopsy and body preparation, honestly, but something about having total control of a once-living being sent a thrill through her she didn’t really get anywhere else. Little wonder she daydreamed what other ponies would look and feel like as corpses, even her own sister.

But with Morticia here, she couldn’t play with the corpse at all. Couldn’t fiddle with its limbs, couldn’t stare into its glassy eyes, couldn’t lay her head on its cold and motionless chest. That was bogus. Totally bogus.

Still, something was better than nothing. She could still feel Dartwing’s body shifting under her magical aura, a buzzing across her brain that gave hints of shape and weight if not texture or temperature. And eventually, Morticia would leave. Then Moonlight could work in peace.

Because she did work, despite Morticia’s sudden newfound wariness. Moonlight may take a perverse pleasure in her labor, and perhaps you could make an argument that she was still taking some liberties that any loved one would take objection to, but she wasn’t a pervert. She wasn’t.

She just wanted to know what it was like to die.

And as she filled out her examination form and jotted down notes under Morticia’s careful gaze, she knew that despite her brokenness, despite her lonely existence as an outsider, she knew—

Society needed dark souls like her. Because she didn’t quail from the shadows. And the world should be grateful that she remained dedicated to her principles, prioritizing opportunity over inconvenience.

For Moonlight was a seeker of things beyond the veil, and for a little ghostly colt, she’d gladly use her dark talents to ease his suffering. All for a taste of the beyond.

All for the chance of a friend.

Author's Note

Ah, our "harmless" sociopath, Moonlight Raven. My interpretation of her, anyway. I'm going to have fun bringing all these misfits together! And gosh, is this really the longest chapter so far? Ah well. I thought it was important to have a deep dive into who Moonlight is.

Honorable mentions for end-of-chapter song choices were Alien Sex Fiend's "Walk the Line" and Type O Negative's "Black No. 1". You can hear all of these songs on my Eerie Lantern Spotify playlist.

It only took me a few months to update instead of two years. Aren't you guys proud of me? Now that I've gotten over the massive hurdle that was the last chapter, I think I can actually envision this story being completed someday. Hooray! The Ghost Gang is back!

As always, comments are desperately desired and appreciated. Thanks for reading!