Kirkyard Rest Halloween Event

Chapters

Sibling Silence
Fly, you fools!
Aliens? In my forest?
Damned If You Do
Always and forever
Desecration
Broken Hearts
For My Brother
Don't Climb the Stairs
Forgotten Pinkie Pie
Beware False Prophets

Sibling Silence

The stallion before me coughed, blood spraying from his lips. I could feel the warm droplets hit my face and nausea roiled within my guts, threatening a re-enactment of my lunch. He coughed again before slumping back onto the rock and coat that was the makeshift bed I’d created. He closed his eyes wearily.

“Never thought this’d be it, hey?”

Pain lanced through my heart. No, I’d never thought it would end between us this way. Sitting by a dusty, empty roadside waiting for death to finally slide her loving blade between the ribs of the pony I had once called brother. Forcing my way past the lump in my throat, I gave a shaky smile.

“No, never.” I shifted, moving the weight off my hind leg where he had bucked me. “I had always wished that eventually we would saddle up together again. You, me and Buckbale, just how it was when we were kids. Things were better then.”

Dusk sighed, a blood drop bubbling from his nose before bursting. He looked so small, so much smaller than the monster he had once lived as within my mind. “Things were simpler. Then we grew up and it all went to shit.” His voice sounded so weak, so vastly different from the robust laugh I remembered. Tears swam in my eyes and I blinked them away as fast as I could, hoping he didn't see. I didn't want him to think I pitied him, not now, not at the end. Let him have that dignity of being the big brother his baby sister always looked up to. Please Celestia, don't let my pain show.

A hoof brushed my face, moving a lock of hair out of my eyes. “You never could lie to me, dipshit. It’s okay to cry, you know. I brought this on myself. It was never your fault.” Even now he was trying to be kind, holding the blame away from me. I started sobbing into his chest, great heaping ugly cries that bawled my grief into the uncaring stars. He stroked my mane, taking all of my pain away with each slow movement of his hoof.

Things had never been easy for us, growing up with a damaged mother who had too many foals to the wrong stallion. We had struggled for every bit, every scrap of affection, but through it all we’d had each other. The unshakable bond that came from siblings who knew that the great maw of poverty was always waiting beneath them, ready to snap shut at the slightest misstep. It wasn't until we were teens that the cracks began to show, when mom finally found herself another stallion, just as bad as the first. It broke the bond that had once been so strong, and we had drifted, slowly, almost without noticing, into distant hatred. Once loving embraces had transformed into violence and neglect, each of us turned to different coping mechanisms. For me, it was the warmth of unknown stallions. For Buck, it was delusions of grandeur and control. And for Dusk, it was Dash. horribly addictive, easy to find and cheap to make, he had slowly spiralled out of control.

I had spent the last years ignoring him from across the wasteland, hoping he’d straighten out on his own. I had only seen him through rumors, whispers of a homeless transient huffing in alleys. I hadn't wanted to see him, and he wouldn't want to see me. At least, that's what I told myself. Maybe I never saw him because I was afraid of what I'd find when I did.

Then one day, I’d gotten the call. The game of who could ignore the other harder was over, he needed me.

“You’re so stupid,” I lifted my head and smiled down at him, smoothing his mane back. He was so pale and sweaty, shivering despite the warmth in the air. It wouldn’t be long now. “I should have been stronger, been able to see what was happening to you.”

He inhaled and chuckled, a wheezing mockery of his own rich laugh, the sound bubbling and rattling in his chest. The noise of it made me wince. We had always fought, but somewhere that friendly sibling fighting had turned into something sinister, something painful. Then it had turned into a silent war, bricks quietly filling up the invisible wall we had put between us. I’d often imagined slaying him with my own hooves, a bullet to the back of the head or knife between his ribs. Anger had fueled my hoofsteps, hatred at how he had treated me. We had gone beyond sibling rivalry, and descended into the realm of mortal enemies.

Yet here we were. He had called me from across the dust and dirt. His organs were done. Too long had they been abused, too long had they suffered from the side effects of dash. Now they were slowly shutting down. Yet when I had arrived, answering his call, the bastard had tried to rob me. It was only by his own body giving out from underneath him that he had failed, but I was going to be wearing the bruises for months. Whomever said a kiss with a hoof is better than none had clearly never had the shit kicked out of them by a strung out dash addict.

He drew another slow and painful breath. He was weakening. I could feel the air itself getting colder, as if death was sitting right beside us, ready to pounce upon him. I scooted closer, wrapping my tail around him as if I could hold him to the earth.

Neither of us spoke. There was too much to say and not enough words in all the language of the lands with which to speak. Regret. Remorse. Guilt. Anger. All these feelings swirled within me as I sat there holding his hoof, stroking the thin grey fur gently. He’d lost a lot of fur over the years. His coat was patchy, stretched across his thin ribs. They rose and fell in the campfire light, each pause between breaths stretching for an eternity.

Silence, once our weapon of war, now our companion.

“Will you see to my kids?” His gravelly voice startled me out of my reverie.

“Of course. My home will always be open to them. I’ll make sure they never go hungry.” His cheekbones looked hollow in the camp light, a skeleton wearing the face of my brother. His body shuddered and convulsed with a strength given only by addiction. I wanted to weep again, knowing that if he could, he would kill me and sell my corpse for more dash. The pull would never let him be free of its grasp, not even now, not even at the end. I wanted to take his suffering away, pull it into my own heart and see him as the colt I remembered.

“Do you remember? You wanted to be a sheriff once.” I started speaking, if only to fill the hateful silence and keep death at bay for a moment longer. “You used to go around, writing up infringements on things in our home simply for fun. You even collected sheriff badges. We used to play so many games.”

He didn't reply, I don't even know if he was conscious. Blood decorated his muzzle with each breath, his lungs collapsing in on themselves. I wiped it away with my sleeve, ignoring the stench of unwashed stallion.

“I remember. I remember you giving me your lunch when I had forgotten mine. I remember you threatening to beat up the boys who bullied me. I remember you playing your guitar, practising endlessly with that old thing until you could play any song you wanted by ear. I remember being so fucking proud of you.” Tears were streaming down my face freely now, my heart feeling tight and throbbing in my chest. Now that I had started speaking, I couldn't stop. I sat there, telling him everything I remembered of who he used to be. The good, and the bad. The shenanigans that he got up to when our mom wasn't looking. The nonsense games we used to play. The times he supported my imaginary fun. The times he didn't. The times he used to threaten to punch me. The times he did. Everything came out, slowly, then quicker. The invisible wall we had built between us slowly crumbling down, each brick bucked out with a howl of anguish. All our lives we had competed, had played at being the better pony.

All our lives for nothing, for this empty moment by the roadside.

His breath drew in. Out. A sigh escaped him, and like that he was gone. No fanfare, no big showdown. Nothing. He was gone and I was left there holding the empty corpse of the stallion who had once been my biggest rival and closest friend.

Throwing my head back into the night, I screamed. I screamed for the colt who had been filled with such promise. I screamed for the stallion who had lost his way. I screamed for the wall we had built together, and most of all I screamed for the love that I had buried deep, pretending that it wasn't there. The lie that I was immune to the pain, that I was the stronger pony. The better pony.

I screamed because despite it all, despite the bruises and the pain, I would have given anything to have my big brother back.

Fly, you fools!

“YEE-HAW!”

Thunderous cracks rippled through the once quiet ruins of Manehattan, punctuated by furious roaring and gleeful laughter. A manticore, fleeing from an unseen enemy, launching itself furiously into the air, spinning and flailing at the demonic unicorn straddling its head. His stinger whipped at her over and over, but it couldn’t penetrate the unwavering shield she maintained around herself.

Gripping the mane of the beast in her teeth, Nei jerked his head to the side to steer him away from a broken, faded billboard advertising Sparkle-Cola Rad and back down towards the empty buildings. Her manticore landed on the ruins of a skyscraper with a crash, his claws scrabbling for purchase. Grinning, Nei threw her weight to the side, pulling them both off balance so that they fell together down through the buildings. Her steed roared in panic, flapping his wings uselessly before launching himself against the side of the building. Slowly his claws scraped down, halting their fall, a little too early for Nei’s taste. She lived for the thrill of death, lived for her heart racing and her knees turning to jelly. Turning his head at her, the manticore hissed and struck out at her with his stinger, but it couldn’t penetrate the shield that she maintained with her pale blue magic.

Laughing like a madwoman, Nei settled her weight once more and bucked the beast in the side, throwing him back into the fray.

In an act of desperation, the manticore, whom she had mentally dubbed as a “Steve”, began bounding through Manehattan, heading straight for the irradiated crater where a balefire bomb had once decimated the city. Pigeons scattered before them, fleeing from the rampaging beast. Nei rocked from side to side as Steve smashed himself into whatever he could find in his attempt to dislodge her from his head. Crater territory was ghoul territory, and Nei began pulling at Steve, trying to get him to turn back to the east of the city where it was only skeletons and the occasional traveller or raider. Steve shook his head again, deafening roars shaking loose dust and old bricks as they flew past. Nei could feel the heat from the crater, even this far away. Her mind flashed to her little sister, waiting at home amongst her books and potions, but soon that was swallowed in the sheer insanity of the moment.

The wind had undone the braid she usually kept her mane in and it whipped around her face, obscuring her vision. Steve let out another teeth rattling roar, and this time it was answered by an unearthly scream. Shoving her mane back, Nei scanned ahead only to groan out loud. She started ripping at Steve’s mane, trying to pull him into a turn, but he ignored her and spurred himself on, now for his own protection. The crater might not be harmful to manticores, but the legions of feral ghouls roaming around it certainly were. Steve was heaving with sweat and foam, Nei could see he wouldn’t be able to sustain a long run from a horde of ghouls, but he would have no choice. She kicked a hoof deep into his flank, spurring him on.

Howls and squeals grew around her, savage and unhinged. Legions of glowing eyes and gnashing teeth poured out from the once lifeless buildings, undead and rotting bodies racing towards them with the speed that only necromance could grant. Steve’s roaring had turned from rage to fear, and he began to flap his leathery wings, attempting to gain altitude. The still air trapped between skyscrapers offered no help. Nei could see he would need to get higher before he would have any chance at flight, but the buildings around them were infested with ghouls. Climbing one would be impossible, especially with Steve already tired, but she knew it was their only chance. Any closer to the crater and she wouldn't be able to walk away with a few rad-aways, she would have to go to Tenpony to get a full purge.

“HA!” She yelled, spurring Steve onwards to a building that had half collapsed in on itself. The rubble offered a form of stairway, mercifully free of ghouls. It was at the last minute she noticed the glowing eyes, just as Steve made the leap up the building. The ghoul screamed, hurtling out of a pile of rubble and onto Steve’s back, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. Steve bellowed in pain, and began to buck and claw at his back, narrowly missing Nei. His stinger punctured the ghoul repeatedly, but poison can do nothing to the already dead. She pulled a knife from her tail, the blade glowing under the light of her magic, and began hacking at the neck of the ghoul. Being so close to the crater was unhelpful, the cuts she made healed almost as fast as she could make them, but it did serve to distract the ghoul. Releasing Steve, it turned its eerily glowing eyes to her and snapped at her hooves. Nei knew from her sister’s lectures that being bitten by a ghoul was almost certain death due to infection, and she found herself doing a mockery of a dance to keep out of its reach. The screeching horde behind them began to pile up against the building, bodies crawling over each other to reach the struggling manticore.

Nei shuddered in horror, bucking out hard against the ghoul on Steve’s back. Her hooves connected with soft, rotting flesh with a sickening crunch, and the ghoul tumbled back down into the throng.

“Up here!” Nei’s head snapped up at the shout, spotting a bright green and grey pony leaning out from a floor higher up. Limey! She was a pony from Tenpony Tower, one of the few that Nei could consider a friend. Limey reached her hooves down, stretching out to grab Nei’s hoof as the manticore dragged them up to the safer higher floors. His great leathery wings snapped and flapped, desperate to fly away.

Balancing on Steve’s head, Nei could see she would have to jump if she wanted both herself and Steve to survive this mess. She turned, looking down at the ghoul horde seething and roiling below them, then back up at the outstretched hoof of her friend. Grinning, she released her shield and threw herself into the air, a momentary fall into nothingness before strong earth pony hooves gripped her own. Limey grunted with the effort, pulling Nei into the building with her. Steve gave a rumbly growl and swiped at Nei’s tail as she sailed past him, but freed of his burden he was able to easily climb to the building top and take off, flying back to the safety of his herd.

Nei lay on the dusty and faded carpet of what was once a plush room, gasping for air. Her stomach swam with the slight radiation sickness from being so close to the balefire crater, and her limbs shook with adrenaline.

Limey’s face appeared above her, concerned. “What on earth were you thinking? That was dangerous, even for you!”

Nei didn't reply, instead reaching a trembling hoof up to her friend’s face. “Boop!” She said, tapping Lime on the nose before her leg fell back to the floor with a thump. She began to giggle softly, before giving away to loud guffaws through the sheer exhilaration of her adventure.

Lime found herself beginning to smile despite the ridiculousness of her friend, and soon the girls were collapsed in a heap on the floor of a once prestigious hotel, laughing like lunatics.

Aliens? In my forest?

“Everypony knows not to go near Hollow Shades Woods. It's haunted!”

“It ain't haunted ya git! It’s them aliens, I told ya!”

“It’s ghosts!”

“Aliens!”

“Ghosts!”

“Aliens!”

The two foals were nose to nose with each other, screeching across the campfire. Sighing, Meadow lifted them both in her magic, separating them.

“Girls!” She glared at her daughters, her voice taking on that particular ‘mom’ quality that only came about when she was truly annoyed. Her daughters had the grace to look abashed, even if one of them still tried to kick the other. “Regardless of what’s in the forest, what remains is that it’s a dangerous place. One of which we are unfortunately camping next to tonight. This means you need to stay close to the campfire, stay together, and above all, stay quiet!”

“Strange things happen in these here woods!” Came the cackle of Grandpa Cups as he gummed on an apple. “Weird lights, strange screams, why it could be ghosts and aliens and whatever other demonic critter the wasteland has given birth to!”

Meadow facehooved, her daughters now squealing with fright and hiding under the caravan’s bags. Grandpa Cups could always be counted on to be incredibly unhelpful, especially for a hired guide. Truth be told, she was also frightened. She knew the woods they were camped next to swallowed ponies up, their bones turning up weeks later in neat packages left along the border, often with a small bow on top of them. She wasn't sure whether it was aliens down from the clouds eating ponies for their dinner, or if it was wild ghouls devouring lost souls, but all she knew was that she was not pleased about having to camp here. However, their wagon had broken down, so they had no choice. They were here until the morning, when the light would make it easier to fix.

Rounding up her daughters with a special glare to Grandpa Cups, she settled them down for bed before making herself comfortable by the fire. She would be up all night for the watch, since they could afford a proper guard. Their only guide was Grandpa Cups, and he was deep in the process of emptying the largest bottle of whiskey she had ever seen.

The flames licked at the wood, snapping and popping. Sparks would shoot into the air, and Meadow found herself slowly starting to relax. The woods sang with the soft sounds of crickets and night bugs. The clouds drifted leisurely overhead, occasionally breaking to show a smattering of stars, glowing like crystals against the deep night sky. Meadow smiled, watching her children suck their hooves in their sleep. They may be getting older, but it was always now, when all was quiet, that she could still see just how young and precious they were. It always made her heart melt.

A twig snapped, and it took Meadow a moment to realise it hadn't come from the fire. Meadow’s head snapped around, watching the forest. Huge, deformed dark shapes shifted within it, moving soundlessly. Small lights flickered in around the forest, over the canopy before rising close to the cloud cover and dipping back down again. Something was moving within the woods, she could hear the crunch of the leaves beneath heavy feet. Her breath got faster as her heart began to thud in her chest, and she slowly edged closer to her daughters, trying not to make a sound lest she attract the beasts.

The lights dipped again, coming to settle in the impossibly high branches of the trees before darting off again, but always hovering over the bulky forms rustling in the woods. The moon slipped a glimpse through the clouds, lighting up the edge of one of the beasts and Meadow barely held in a scream. Misshapen, bulging flesh covered an enormous, monstrous frame, which bristled with stiff hairs. The wind rustled, blowing their stench towards her. It was alien, savage, and a primal fear roiled in her stomach. Whatever they were, these beasts with lights from the sky, all she knew is that she didn't want them to notice her family, placidly sleeping by the fireside.

Grandpa Cups let out a particularly loud snore, which Meadow promptly cut off by jamming her hoof halfway down his throat. She stared wildly at his indignant face, trying to shush him, only to flatten her ears against her skull as an unearthly scream broke the quiet of night. Meadow turned her head slowly, realising that they had been seen. The lights flickered rapidly, before disappearing up into the cloud. The night was dark, but the sound of trampling hooves stampeding towards their camp sent ice racing down Meadow’s back. She had to move!

Scooping up her bleary eyed daughters, she began to run from the screaming monsters as they howled with glee, both her daughters crying with pain at being roughly shoved onto her back. Her hooves hit the dirt and she began to run harder than she had ever run before. Marigold began to scream, high pitched and shrill in her ears.

“Grandpa! NO! Leave him alone!” Meadow didn't dare look back, only allowing her legs to speed her along faster. She could hear Cups shouting at something, and a horrific snorting, snuffling noise followed by more squealing. Then Grandpa Cups began to scream. It was brief, full of anguish, and cut off by a wet snap and crunching.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Meadow ran away from the forest as fast as she could. She had almost made it to the edge of the clearing where they’d camped when something grabbed her tail. She tried kicking back, but her children fell off her back and began to cry in fear and pain as they rolled away in the dirt.

“Run!” She shouted, turning to face her attacker. She found herself looking into the eyes of the biggest radhog she had ever seen. Angry, beady eyes filled with hate started back at her before the hog squealed again and charged, knocking Meadow onto her back. She caught a glimpse of her daughters running away, but they were running to the forest, not away! “No!” her voice ripped from her throat, only to be silenced by the enormous hog standing on her stomach. The breath whooshed out of her, and with it any chance of calling for help. The stench of unwashed, foul beast filled her nose right before the hog bent its head to her face and ripped it clean off. She managed a gargled cry and began to hit the hog about the head with her hooves, but before she knew it another hog had torn her leg clean off.

She could feel them chewing on her, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak. The pain was unbelievable, almost consuming her mind. She could only lay there, feebly trying to crawl away from the ravenous beasts. Meadow's eyes rolled, seeing her foals were surrounded by another two hogs who were advancing with contented, predatory grunts. Fear lanced through her, spurring the strength for one last crawl towards her babies before a hog found the softness between what was left of her legs and sunk his teeth in. After that, she moved no more.

Dawn broke.

Hog wild stepped from the edge of the forest into the clearing, shoving her thick curls off her face. ‘What a mess.’ She thought, surveying the torn up ground and campsite. She let her hogs roam at night so they could search out truffles and other goodies, but occasionally they helped themselves to passing travellers. Unfortunately with hogs the size of the ones she reared, stopping them was impossible. All she could do was clean up the mess and pray for the victims.

“Looks like they got t’ a family this time!” She called out to the pegasus overhead. “Thank ya kindly for keeping an eye on them last night, Ah can't always manage the full herd mahself when they get the fire in their blood.”

“No problem!” The red pegasus called. “It was a real horrifying sight to see though. I tried to save the foals, but I couldn't get between them and the hogs. I ended up putting a bullet through them both.” His voice was sad.

“Makes sense n’ all. Mah hogs are the best around, but once they decide t’ eat sumthin, there ain't nothin’ yeh c’n do but pray.”

She kicked the embers of the fire, the torn saddlebags nearby showing childrens toys and canned food. They could salvage some of this. Hog Wild’s heart was heavy. She put up signs not to enter the woods or even be nearby, but most ponies just ignored them and went on their merry way, and it was always the next morning she would find their remains. This time she’d had Radar keep watch, hoping that having a flying lantern over their forest would deter curious ponies, but it looks like it didn't help at all.

Pulling over her wagon, she began to load the mutilated remains onto the cart. Radar landed next to her.

“You want some help?”

“Nah.” Hog Wild shook her head, lifting a tiny jawbone. “Them’s mah hogs, this here murder is on mah hooves. Ah’ll take em home, clean' em up and put them at the edge of the forest. If they got kin, hopefully they’ll find their way back t’ them.”

Radar nodded solemnly. He knew better than to argue with her. He flew off a respectful distance away, and Hog Wild went back to her grisly task.

Damned If You Do

Regrets.

I've always lived my life by not having them. If things went sour, I’d just saddle up and move on. No looking back, no reflection, and no worries. The ultimate freedom to be anywhere, be anything. Nothing was a big deal to me, nothing mattered so much that I’d lie awake at night thinking about it, life was better living in the moment, or so I thought.

Ten years ago, give or take a few months, I had walked out of my hometown with nothing but the clothes on my back and stolen money in my pocket. The lives I'd ruined weren't important, all that mattered was the next big adventure. And now retribution had come calling, I had a debt to pay and come hell or high water, I was gonna pay it.

I stared at the tiny bundle in my arms. She was so small, this little caramel and honey coloured girl. Perfectly formed, a tiny champagne coloured nose wiggled at me from the blankets. Looking back at the dead mare at my hooves, my mind slowly turning over what had happened.

She’d been in my bed for months, I think she really believed marriage was on the horizon. Yet as I do, I'd walked on out of town when things got boring, never looking back. No worries. Same old story, nothing new. New town, new me. Then I'd arrived home one day, the mare I'd abandoned on my doorstep, covered in blood with a bulging stomach that roiled and contracted.

“Save her,” She’d whispered, weak and pale. “Save our baby.”

Shock. My heart felt like it had stopped, then my hooves moved on their own, racing to get Candy, the sweet nurse who served as our only medic. Confusion. Baby. Whose? Ours? I didn't have foals. Candy had shoved me to the side, desperately seeking a pulse. The mare was too gone to be saved, she’d yelled. She’d dragged her inside, screaming at me to help, and like a zombie I’d obeyed. Together we’d strapped the mare down, then Candy had pulled a knife. Numb, I watched her slice open the bloated stomach of the mare, pushing aside organs that slithered out onto the floor. She reached her hooves in and pulled out something squirming before hacking at the umbilical cord. Then she sat back, wiping sweat off her face. I vividly remember the streak of deep red blood she’d inadvertently wiped on her face. Not the bright red of fresh blood, but the deep red of arterial blood, the kind that you didn't want to see, not ever. It stood out so stark against her white mane and pink coat, glistening in the dusty sunlight.

Grabbing a dirty towel off my bed, she began wiping down the tiny wriggling thing, gently and tenderly. The room felt empty and hushed, as if all the world waited for something.

The baby wailed. A loud, robust cry, and suddenly the world came rushing back in.

“Congratulations,” Candy smiled, handing me the bundle wrapped in the filthy towel I’d used that morning. “It’s a girl.”

Now I stared down at the tiny little girl, who’s face so mirrored my own, squishy and blood covered as it was. Her mother lay at my hooves, blood splashed all over my once clean living room. There must be some mistake, I thought to myself, confused. I went to hoof her back over to Candy.

“Oh no Mister,” Candy stood shakily up, helping herself to my whiskey. My good whiskey, I might add. “I got her out in time. Now she’s your problem.”

I could only look at her, my mouth agape like a fool. It felt unreal, like a dream. Candy saw my face then rolled her eyes, putting the bottle down on my dresser with a thunk.

“Silver, she’s got your colouring. She’s yours, through and through.” she walked over to me, leaning over my shoulder to look at the blood covered baby who was now peacefully napping. Her lower lip moved as if she were suckling at something, and a tiny frown grace her face. My heart gave a thump.

“Now I don't know who this mare was, or who she was to you, but you’ve got a problem. That there baby is gonna need a wetnurse, and real soon, or she’ll die. What you do with your kin is your business, but if you allow a newborn foal to die in this town, I can't guarantee your safety by morn’.”

“But how?” I asked, stupidly. “How is she mine?”

Candy gave me a side eyed glance. “Well when a mare and a stallion love each other-”

“Not what I meant.” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. The baby’s frown eased at the sound of my voice, and my heart thudded again. “I meant, isn't there an orphanage nearby? You said yourself she’d need a wetnurse.”

Candy laughed, a harsh bark of unamusement. “This is the wasteland, sugar. There ain't no orphanages.” She stepped back over to the whiskey and drained it in a pull. “Cherry Mane over yonder had a foal not too long ago, she’s probably still got milk. I'd suggest heading over to her first, see if she’ll take the poor thing. Either way, you gotta pay for the burial of the mare. I’ll go get Mort to come take her away.”

With a nod, Candy disappeared from my home.

Cherry Mane. a pretty but dumpy mare with freckles, stomach always swollen with her husband’s latest spawn. I was sure she’d be grateful for another baby to cuddle. Nodding to myself, moving to grab my hat. The movement jostled the baby in my arm, and she began to wail. What an awful noise! My ears flattened against my head and I looked around for something to jam in her mouth to shut her up. The empty whisky bottle was contemplated momentarily, but I shook my head, instead sitting back on the bed, wiping my hoof off on my vest before sticking it in the baby’s mouth, humming a tuneless song like I'd seen other mares do. The kid stopped crying and began sucking hard at my hoof. I was surprised at how strong she was, that kind of force could suck the poison straight from a manticore! She set herself to gnawing fiercely at my hoof, looking up at me. Startled, I gazed back. She had the same beautiful pink eyes of her mother. I had forgotten that mare, leaving her behind in the dust with all my other worries. Now here I was, holding the tiniest little thing that had the same beautiful eyes, peeking up from a face that looked just like mine. Shaking my head, I removed my hoof and grabbed my hat, dumping the foal in it. Balancing it on my back, I set off for Cherry’s. Any longer with this thing and I’d start to think about things best left forgotten.

Cherry smiled at me with pity in her eyes. “Ah mean it, Silver.” She said softly. “Ah can’t take her. Mah milk is dried up.”

“But she’ll die without a wetnurse!” I repeated, horror filling my heart.

“If yeh c’n get them t’ take it, they’ll survive jes’ fine off o’ pig milk. Not all babies will do, mind, but it’ll give her a chance.”

Pig? Pig milk? I was expected to feed my daughter swine milk? I flinched internally, realising I’d started mentally referring to the baby as my daughter. Since when did I have a daughter? Since this morning, apparently, my mind replied dryly.

“Ah’m sorry.” Cherry repeated, hoofing me a baby bottle and some other supplies. She gave me a sad nod before moving off with her brood clutched around her. I sat down in the dirt, my mind raced as to what to do. Farmer Maggot had pigs, I could barter milk from him, I had some caps saved. Either way, somewhere in the last few hours, I'd started calling her my own. Shaking my head at these dangerous thoughts, I trotted back into town, only to be stopped short by Candy.

“There’s some fellas looking for you.” She said, nervously looking over her shoulder. “Say they’re here to claim the girl was promised to them as payment. I don't trust ‘em, SIlver. Something don’t feel right about them.”

That was excellent news! “Where are they?” Perhaps I wouldn't have to worry about Maggot’s pigs, after all?

Candy frowned, shifting her hooves the dust. “Over at Mort’s. Say they’ll bury the mare, but the girl is theirs.”

She’d barely finished speaking, but I was already gone, a spring in my step and in my heart. All the confusing feelings had stopped, I would be rid of the kid and back to my wonderfully free bachelor life. I could hear the baby gurgling on my back, she’d be hungry soon and it would be someone else’s problem.

Rounding the corner, I spotted the Mortician’s house across the way. Old Mort was out front, scratching at his patchy mane with a hoof while he listened to something one of the stallions was telling him. The three stallions were heavily armed, unusual this far into the desert. Frowning, my trot slowed to a walk. Why would heavily armed mercenaries be looking for Sunflower and her baby? I had gotten close enough to hear the conversation drifting to me across the square. Straining my ears, I stopped to listen before they noticed me.

“She’ll have a good life with us. Mister Strikes always provides the best care for the foals he takes in.”

Mort was nodding, he knew Marble Strikes by reputation. Good stallion, always willing to help out where needed. Everyone knew Marble, and my heart sank. See, I'd done something to Marble long ago. I'd agreed to do a job for him, and the payment had been beyond my wildest dreams. Except when I finished the job, I stabbed him in the gut and stole both the payment and the job profit. It’d fuelled most of my travels for the past few years. I never thought he’d reach me down in New Appleloosa, it was months on hoof from his operations up in Stalliongrad.

Slowly, casually, I turned around. Best not to attract attention to myself by running. Nice and easy walk away, nothing to see here.

“Silver! These gents want a word!”

Fuck you in the ass, Mort. I began to run, the baby squalling on my back. I paused long enough to put my hat in the doorway of a house, couldn't run for my life with a baby, and without Maggot’s pigs she’d be dead by morning anyway. “Sorry, little one.” I whispered, turning and fleeing. The stallions were hot on my tail, fast even for all their weapons.

My heart thundered as I ducked and weaved through the town, kicking up dirt and knocking over indignant passerbys. Shouts rang from behind me but I kept running, my sides heaving with the effort.

CRACK.

The bullet struck me in the flank and I went flying, my ass on fire. The pain was unbearable. Rolling to a stop with a moan, my flank felt hot and wet, blood pumping from the wound.

“You shot him in the ass!” One of the stallions was laughing, a loud and donkey-like bray. I could do nothing but lay there panting with the pain as three shadows came into my line of sight.

“I did. Gotta break his leg though, he’ll heal before we get him back to Mister Strikes if we don't.” I screamed in panic, my hooves scrabbling in the dirt to escape. The townsfolk who were gathering curiously were murmuring. The mayor stepped forward, taking off his hat.

“Boys, I cant allow this in our town. You came to claim a baby and you’ve got her, I gotta ask you to stop torturing my citizens and leave.”

“Hold up, boss. We got a warrant for this one.” The big blue stallion with his hoof on my leg scrabbled around in his saddlebags, producing a crumpled piece of paper. Cold sweat bloomed on my forehead, the seal was from Strikes. My ass throbbed with my heartbeat. “There you go, everything is in order.”

The mayor looked over the paper, his lips moving while he sounded out the more difficult words. He looked down at me, and hope flared briefly in my chest. “Seems all in order. Mister Strikes is well known even out here.” He crouched down, looking me in the eye. My hope withered. “You did a dumb thing stealing from such a good man, son. I hope it was worth it. C’mon y'all, let's leave these men to do their jobs now. Shoo! Git!” The mayor began working at dispersing the crowd. The stallion standing on my leg shoved the paper back in his back with a grunt, bent down and swiftly broke my back leg with a businesslike heave. It took a moment for the pain to arrive, then my entire body felt like someone had run it over with a loaded wagon. Screams of agony escaped my lips, joining the screams of the little baby who’d arrived on my doorstep like the harbinger of doom.

“She needs some milk, cuz. I reckon she was only born this morning.” Someone said, I don't care who. Looking back at my leg, I saw it was broken at the joint, an unnatural angle that I knew would take months to heal, if it healed at all. Sobbing, I tried curling up into a ball only to be lifted by caramel coloured magic.

“Don't you fret none sir, we won't let it fester and will heal you right up in time to be presented to Mister Strikes. I'm an excellent healer.” The stallion smiled up at me, presenting me with his medical bandage cutie mark. Then we were off.

Every step back to wherever the stallions were camped bumped me around in the magic, sending fresh waves of pain rippling through my body. Not once did the baby stop crying, her heart wrenching mewls drilling into my brain with every throb of my wound. By the time we’d arrived, I was ready to kill her just to shut her up. A pudgy mare with swollen teats came running to meet us, grabbing the baby without a word and placing her to her breast. The girl instantly quietened, contented grunts and sweet noises replaced the ear drilling scream.

“Ooh she’s got a strong suckle, this one!” The mare said, happily holding the tiny baby. “I'm glad you brought me along Bale, she’s a fighter.” The blue stallion who’s name was apparently Bale leaned down and kissed the mare on the top of the head.

“I'm just glad you're blessed with so much milk, Daisy. Otherwise she’d have died with the sunrise.”

I found myself placed in a tent, to which the pony holding me in his magic promptly zapped me with a spell. Instantly all the feeling in my legs disappeared, the horrific pain fading away. I trembled with relief, the pain had been excruciating. A pony with a pipbuck appeared, pursing her lips in disapproval. “Did you have to break his leg so badly?” She asked the brown stallion. “That’s gonna be a bitch to heal.”

“You can heal it, right?” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.

She smiled at my question before walking over and smacking me in the mouth. “Yes, I will heal you. But you, however, have lost the right to speak in my presence. Anyone who steals from Master Strikes steals from all of us. You answer only when I ask you a question, is that understood?”

Shocked, I nodded. This bitch was crazy!

“We had to, Juni. He was runnin’. Left the babe behind and all, poor thing.” The brown stallion looked sad for a moment before perking up. “But Daisy’s got her on the tit now and says she’ll be fine.”

The mare named Juni looked pleased, picking up a salve and spreading it on my ass.

“That’s good, I'm glad she wasn't hurt..” She said quietly. “We’re gonna head out in the morning, long road back to Stalliongrad. She’s gonna need all her strength.” Juni looked sternly at me, lifting her spatula with obvious threat. “You will too. You’re damn lucky Bale knew how to break a leg properly or you'd be in a lot worse condition than this.” Her voice softened. “Try to get some sleep. Mister Strikes isn't unreasonable. We will be leaving early, so you’ll need some rest.”

With that, Juni and the stallion left the tent, the flap not quite covering the hooves of the guard out the front. Groaning, I put my hooves over my head. I was fucked.

True to Juni’s word, we left before daybreak. I was strapped to a wagon, with Daisy and the baby riding with me, another small baby in a sling at her side. The spell on my legs mercifully didn't wear off, so the trip was relatively comfortable. Daisy beamed at me, cooing at the babies as they fed and cuddled.

“Your daughter is a real cutie, Mister.” Daisy commented, holding the foal tenderly. “Such beautiful eyes. From her mother, I presume?”

I nodded wearily. Poor Sunflower, she hadn’t deserved such a grisly end. She’d been a sweet mare, and always eager to please. Daisy pulled herself over to me, folding the blanket back so I could see the baby’s face. Bright eyes stared back, and she gave a milky smile. Even I had to admit she was adorable.

“She's a real lady, this one. Polite as you please.” Daisy chirped happily. “Thing is, I don't even know her name!”

“I uh.. I haven't given her one.” I mumbled, looking away in shame. It's true, I'd just been referring to her as ‘the baby’ or ‘the girl’. I hadn't even thought of a name.

Daisy looked shocked, but quickly hid it. “Well that just won't do! A girl’s gotta have her name. You're a papa now!”

The baby waved pudgy hooves at me, bringing an unconscious smile to my face. She had been the reason for my past catching up to me, but it wasn't her fault. She was innocent in all this. “How about Pastry? Her momma always loved desserts, and talked about opening a bakery one day. Pudding, for her grandmother.” My own mother was hardly worth anything, but Sunflower’s mom had welcomed me with open arms into their family. They'd all been hoping I'd join them permanently, and now Sun was cold and dead in the dirt. My breath hitched in my chest. I wonder if her mom knew?

“Pastry Pudding ey? That’s cute. I like it.” Daisy was positively twinkling down at the baby. “Pastry Pudding. You are just a pudding aren't you? Yes you are!”

Naming her changed something. I don't know how or what, but suddenly something inside me just clicked. This wasn’t some random baby. This was my baby. My daughter, and her name was Pastry Pudding. Fumbling, I reached towards the bundle, suddenly desperate to hold her. Daisy wordlessly placed her in my arms, a mother’s understanding from years of experience rearing her own. I looked down in wonder at the tiny girl, her hooves now being slobbered upon as her eyes watched the roadside pass by. Pastry Pudding, daughter of Silver.

From that day on, while everyone else in the caravan was cold to me, Daisy went out of her way not to be. She was always warm and friendly, happy to let me hold Pastry and teach me how to be a parent. I learned how to change diapers, how to bottle feed, how to burp. Pastry endured all my clumsy attempts with the sweet patience she had been born with, fussing only if I was too slow. The miles passed by quicker than I thought, and my leg healed steadily. Strangely enough, I had no desire to make a run for it. Pastry still needed Daisy’s milk, and would for a while. Every day brought something new with it. Pastry liked being cold, and she hated being swaddled. She liked pretty coloured toys but was also happy to chew on rocks if she could. I loved learning about her, this little piece of my heart. Soon, Every moment of every day was spent tending to her needs, and I loved it all. How could I have tried to abandon my beautiful little daughter to save my own hide? The shame of it burned and bit at me in the night as I lay awake listening to Bale and Daisy attempt for baby number eight.

All too soon we’d arrived in Stalliongrad. The gates loomed ahead of me, and I shifted awkwardly. My legs were healed perfectly, but now I wore a bomb collar in case i ever thought of running. Get too far away from the detonator, and boom goes my head. Bale always wore the detonator in a bag around his neck, which meant I stuck close to Bale. Thankfully, so did Daisy and that made it bearable. We rolled into the small village, the sounds of bustling activity all around me. Foals shrieked and ran across the wagons path, ponies called out to the mercenaries like long lost friends. The sinking feeling in my stomach got even lower. Everyone here was so kind, so happy. Why wouldn't they be? Marble Strikes provided safety, security and a home. All he asked for in return was loyalty. Except I knew what that loyalty cost. Marble Strikes had everyone sign a contract when they joined him, and in that contract was a clause that gave up your freedom to him. Everyone around me was a willing slave to a pony who offered them an oasis in a world fed by madness and pain, and they always signed with a smile.

Marble would only offer contracts to those he’d rescued, those who he knew needed a place to stay. A lifetime of devotion in return for a lifetime of safety. As a result, every single pony in his employ was a blind devotee. It was a cult. A grey pegasus landed gracefully in front of the wagon, her pale eyes staring cooly down at me. I cringed. This was the worst of them all, this was Buttermilk, secretary to Marble Strikes and his strongest devotee. She’d kill for him, I’d seen her do it.

“I see you found it.” She turned away from me, addressing Bale. “Welcome home, Bale.”

Bale grinned, pulling Daisy to him. She stepped forward, uncovering the bundle containing Pastry and showing Buttermilk. The mares cooed over my daughter, ignoring the unloading of the wagons. I wanted them to hand Pastry to me, but from the looks Bale was shooting me, I had better keep my mouth shut. Buttermilk touched Pastry with a wing, eliciting a giggle. She smiled at her, before turning her cold eyes back to me. “Master Strikes is waiting in his office. Please follow me.”

She accepted the dusty bomb detonator from Bale with a grimace, holding it delicately with her feathertips away from her. Buttermilk was beautiful, and I felt the dirt and dust from the long trip keenly. I knew I smelled atrocious as well, especially in comparison to the floral fragrance radiating from the mare leading me through the halls of the run down manor Marble called home. Where I'd once been an honoured guest, ponies now looked at me in disgust and anger. Stooping to hide my face, I lowered my ears. This was the worst.

Buttermilk tapped gently on the mahogany doors before opening them, bowing deeply with her wings spread. Guards on either side of Marble stood to attention. Here I was, at last in front of the most powerful stallion I knew. One who was betrayed, stabbed and run from.

“Silver Bullet, otherwise known as Silvertongue.” Marble was a green earth pony with a pale blue mane streaked with the beginnings of grey. He looked at me impassively, and I withered beneath his gaze. “You have done me a grave discourtesy, son. I offered you work, and instead you took whatever you could from me.” He leaned forward with his hooves together, peering down at me. “I would ask why, but news of your true lifestyle has reached my ears. I cannot deny your nature.”

I didn't reply. I just wanted to sink into the earth and go back to Pastry.

“However, I am a patient, forgiving stallion.” I looked up, not daring to hope I'd get out of this alive. “You know the terms of staying in my town. Safety, security, and love in return for everything you are. I am willing to offer these terms to your daughter.”

To my daughter? He meant to take Pastry? That bastard! “You can't!” I snarled, lurching forward. Buttermilk held a feather over the detonator, glaring me into submission. “I mean, she cant sign, she’s a baby.”

“Indeed.” Marble said, dryly. “However if her last remaining legal guardian signs her over to me, then we won't have an issue. I will consider your debt paid. You would no longer be welcome in these parts, but you would be free to go.”

My mind was yammering, anger and fury mixed with worry and fear. On one hoof, Pastry would be safe, albeit a slave. On the other, I'd never see her again and that was simply unacceptable. “No.” I said, firmly. “You can do as you like to me, but I won't sign her into your fucked up cult. I will raise my daughter, not you.”

Marble raised his eyebrows at the conviction in my voice. “You seem certain.”

“I am. I will never let you have her.”

“You tried to abandon her back in New Appleloosa.”

“That was before I'd gotten to know her. Before-” I swallowed, nervous at admitting it outloud. “Before I’d named her.”

“Indeed.” Marble slid a contract out of his drawer, the paper pristine and white. He must have paid a fortune for it. “There is another way.”

I didn't like this. “What did you say?”

“I said, there is another way. Sign yourself to me. You are untrustworthy, so you will be chipped at first. Prove yourself to me, prove your devotion to your daughter, and you will both have happy, prosperous lives here until she comes of age and can choose her own fate.” He slid the contract to me. The terms were clear. My life and servitude, for the debt and comfort of my daughter. She’d grow up out of the wasteland, be educated. All I had to give up was the life I'd lived till now.

“Of course, you don't need to sign.” I looked up in confusion. “I can simply sell you to Obsidia for her mines. No consent required. I must recoup my lost profit, after all. Your daughter would be looked after until she too is old enough to be sold.”

My choices were bleak, I stared blankly. Sign Pastry to him and she’d be safe but a slave and I'd never see her again. Sign myself to him and Pastry grows up safe, but I wouldn't travel again. I'd be the slave. Dont sign, and I'm sold off to the mines and so will Pastry once she’s old enough. Damned no matter what I do. I cursed my past self for stealing from one of the most powerful ponies in Equestria.

“I’ll sign.” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch that?” Marble’s voice was polite and measured, giving nothing away.

“I said I’ll sign! For myself, not her. She gets all the perks, you get me. Deal?” I was in no position to demand anything, but I had to keep my pride.

“I knew you'd come to see things my way.” The paper and a pen slid toward me glistening in the sunlight. They were innocently malicious, but I knew I had no choice, not if I wanted to keep Pastry in my life, and Celestia help me, I did. Picking up the pen, I signed with a flourish. My soul for my daughter.

Buttermilk swept the papers up and they disappeared into the safe. I watched them go glumly, not moving even as one of the guards injected me with a tracking chip. I was stuck here, now and forever.

Marble stood, offering a hoof. I could see a thin scar on his ribs where I’d stabbed him. “It was a pleasure, Mister Bullet. I am pleased to be working with you from now on.” I took his hoof, shaking it with a mild distaste. “If you’ll please follow Butter, she will take you to your new quarters.”

“Pastry will be living with me, right?” I was tired, but if Pastry wasn't living with me then my work here wasn't done. Marble stopped, looking at me quizzically.

“Of course. You’re one of us now, after all.”

Always and forever

Dear Daddy,

Today Mommy and I went down into the stable. Mommy says we’ll be safe here from the zebras, and that you are staying outside to keep fighting them since you’re the C-A-P-T-A-I-N. I learned how to spell Captain for you, Daddy. Mommy says you’ll join us once you've kicked all the Zebra’s butts. Go Daddy! I'm gonna keep writing in this book you sent me, since you said no matter what I write, you'd be able to read it in your diary. I hope its true. The stable is really pretty! It's so big and shiny, there is an elevator and a huuuuuge staircase that takes you all the way down to the bottom where the big power machines go woosh! Mommy said it's dangerous and I can't go alone but that's okay.

I drew a picture of you and me in the stable! I gave you a cape because you're my hero!

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

The food down here is a bit gross. It's kinda squishy and not as tasty as mommy’s cooking. I told them so too, but they just laughed and mommy said I had to eat it anyway. I don't like it but I guess it isn't so bad. The walls were shaking a lot today. It was a bit scary but mommy said we’re safe in here and it's just the big, angry zebras making a fuss. There are lots of other foals here too, mommy said we will be starting school tomorrow. I didn't think they had school underground but I guess that even boring old Mister Thistle needs to be saved from zebra too. Are you eating lots of yummy food, Daddy? I wish I had some cake, like the one from the bakery with the fancy sign and stinky coffees. Mom says there is coffee here but that it tastes like a MULES ASS. then she told me never to tell that she said that but i think you should know that mommy said a bad word. I wonder if I’ll make friends tomorrow.

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

School was today and there is the world's meanest filly in my class. She has a nose like a pig and greasy hair that goes almost to the floor and she stinks and I hate her. I tripped over which wasn't my fault but she only pointed her nasty little hoof and laughed at me! Evil witch! Her name is Dumpling and it suits her because she is as fat as a cow. I still made lots of new friends and the teacher was very nice even if she was reaallllllly old. Like, she must be ten thousand years old. I am very sleepy and Mommy says that i need to go to bed early. I think it's a scam. Daddy don't forget to come home in a week since it's my fifth birthday. I would very much like the dancing pony in the glass ball that was in the window of Mayer’s toy store last week pretty please. It has a pink dress and glows in the dark. Mommy says she might be a bit busier this week because there is a funny smell coming from a crack in the wall of The Downstairs. I asked if I could see it and she said no.

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

It's my birthday today! Mommy says that maybe you can't come because you are still fighting the zebras, but i know that you wouldn't miss my birthday dinner because the cook here promised to make mashed potatoes and gravy! I love potatoes especially when they have lots of butter. Yummy! Don't forget my present!

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

Where were you?

* * *

Dear Daddy

Why didn't you tell me that you had been sent on a top secret mission by Princess Luna!! I can't believe it! Mommy told me everything because I cried and cried when you didn’t come, she said the ONLY reason you missed my birthday was because you were doing something super heroic for the REAL PRINCESS LUNA OMIGOSH!!!!!! That's amazing Daddy! I can't wait to rub it in that fat cow’s face tomorrow, she said you didn't come because you didnt love me and had made a new family. I'm gonna punch her just like you showed me! Mommy says I should be nice to Dumpling because she doesn't even have a daddy but I DON'T CARE. I don't want to be nice to somepony who laughs at foals when they trip over instead of helping them up! She's as mean and ugly as a stupid zebra and I hate her. I hope your mission goes well Daddy! Do your best! I drew you and the Princess. Maybe she could see it?

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

I got in a lot of trouble today and was yelled at by everyone. It wasn't my fault! Well, maybe it was a little bit. I told Dumpling that you were on a top secret mission for Princess Luna, and she laughed at me! She even called me a liar! SO I PUNCHED HER IN HER FAT FACE! She started crying like the piglet she is, but then she dropped her cane thingy she uses to walk around and fell down. She only has three leggies, mommy said that she lost one when the Zebra blew up her home. But when she fell over all the adults came running and I'm the one who got in trouble! She dropped it all on her own after I hit her! Her lip was bleeding and everything too, so it looked very bad. I have detention and the Overmare is gonna meet with Mommy and Dumpling’s aunty to discuss what they should do. I hope there is corn for dinner.

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

I'm sorry I didn't write for a long time. After I punched Dumpling, Mommy told me that the zebra’s took away Dumpling’s mommy, daddy, little brother and her leggie all at once, and that what Dumpling needed right now was a friend. Mommy has been super busy lately, i've hardly seen her. She keeps going down to the bottom of the stable and coming up in a big yellow suit that covers everything, even her face. Anyway, I am trying to be Dumpling’s friend. I guess she isn't so fat and stinky either, she just was having trouble with brushing her teeths with one leggie gone. Her aunty had been doing it for her but she couldn't always do it since she works with mommy and they are very busy. We tied a toothbrush to her stump and she could do it right after that. She cried a little, and I cried. I think we will be good friends. Are you proud of me?

I miss you daddy. I miss the tobacco on your shirt. I miss the way you lift me in your magic and twirl me in the air. Come home soon Daddy.

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

The adults are acting funny. We've only been in the stable three weeks and they are already talking about unlocking the door because there is a bad smell downstairs. So bad that mommy got super sick from breathing it, like it was eight million farts or something. She is in sick bay now so I'm staying at Dumplings. She says hi by the way, I told her how the diary works, that you can see everything I write. I will draw a picture of us, I don't have many colours though. The adults look worried, I wonder why the stable door wont open when they tell it to? The food is getting worse. Dumpling and I are gonna have a pillow fight.

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

Something is happening downstairs. Mommy still isn't home yet and now Dumpling’s aunty is sick too so we are staying with the teacher in the classroom. It's kind of fun! Her name is Mrs Bubble Tea but she says that when we are not at school to call her Bubba, like a grandma. She smells funny but has yummy candies hidden everywhere. The door to Downstairs was locked today and everyone was forbidden from opening it. The Overmare was shouting at someone to get the stable door open. I dont know why because even though the food is bad, i kind of like it down here. After all, it’s where i met Dumpling!

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

I'm a bit scared. There are growls and cries coming from The Downstairs. Dumpling and I snuck into sick bay to see Mommy but she wasn't even in there! No one was. I can't find Mommy anywhere and the growling is so loud, it sounds like screaming. The Overmare made the radio play super loud in the whole stable to help ponies sleep but i want to know where my MOMMY IS! I wish you would come home and help them open the stable door because they seem to really want it to get open. Maybe Mommy is outside working on opening it from that side? I don't know. Dumpling and I have made a blanket fort and Bubba is making us hot chocolate. The growls are scary, Daddy.

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Daddy I'm writing this in a hurry. I found Mommy! Dumpling climbed into an air vent so she could see through the door window to the downstairs because she can fit into small spaces better with three legs. She said she saw my Mommy pushing against the glass except she looked very very sick! Like she had her skin melting or something. Maybe she caught a zebra flu. All I know is that we have made a plan to sneak her out of there! When she gets out and is better and you come home is it okay if we make Dumpling my sister? She hasn't got any family except her aunty and I want her to be my new sister. Please? Dumpling and I are gonna get mommy out as soon as we have a chance!

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Dear Daddy,

We will do it tonight! We know the Overmare hides the key in her office, and Dumpling can pick a lock really well! We are gonna sneak out of the classroom, then Dumpling is gonna go through the vents until she gets to the door to the Downstairs. Then I'm gonna distract the guard since there is only one at night with my banshee cry that you taught me, and the Dumpling is gonna open the door! Wish us luck Daddy, Mommy will be home soon!

Love always and forever,

Marigold

* * *

Daddy something is really wrong with mummy we got the door open but she ate dumpling and then a whole bunch of ponies came out from the downstairs and they look all melty like her and she bit off dumplings face and ate it what's going on

Daddy you need to come save me

Daddy they are outside. I got into the air vent like Dumpling but they are moving down under me. I can see them so I'm writing to you to come and make them stop. They eat ponies! MOMMY EATS PONIES! The overmare and the guards fired bullets into them and they didn't even die, they just kept eating! I don't know how many are left. I'm really thirsty and I need to go potty! Daddy please

Daddy im so thirsty

I love you

Daddy

Desecration

Havoc hoisted the body of the mare in her magic, stepping to the side to avoid the dripping fluids from her bloated stomach. Turning the body, she inspected the head. Intact, little to no damage and only mild swelling. She cant have been dead more than a day or two, long enough for the belly gases to build but not enough for the true rot to begin. Good. Havoc lay the mare gently into the wagon of corpses and kept walking, hauling the heavy load through the marsh. Bodies shifted and belched with gases as she walked, the squeak of her hazmat suit creating a cacophony of disturbing noises that would have frightened any pony if they saw them. Havoc pulled out a list, scanning through the fog building up on her mask.

“Who’s next?” She murmured to herself. The list was compiled by her sister every morning after receiving reports on their little radio of dead bodies. Then it was Havoc’s grim task to make the rounds, picking up the dead for a small fee. The townsfolk didn't have to worry about burials, and her sister got new playthings. Not that the folk calling them knew that, after all. Doubtful they'd be so eager for their services if they knew what became of the bodies they called for collection. “Mare, died early this morning from buckshot. Looks like they left her under the big oak.” She hitched the wagon tighter and began to trot over to the hill where a large, dead oak lived. It’s spindly branches reached into the cloudy sky like daggers, a popular place for shifty people to meet and for bodies to be left for collection. If it was a buckshot wound and only this morning, why rigor mortis wouldn't have even set in! Havoc’s step quickened and she began to puff in her eagerness. A real nice find like that would keep her sister very happy for a while. She reached the tree, and sure enough there was a mare’s body laying delicately in the mud, surrounded by flowers. She must have been loved. Havoc closed her eyes, gathering her magic in her horn and releasing a cooling spell. It wasn't a must, but it would keep this one particularly fresh until she got back to base.

The mare was heavy, her limbs still loose with the relaxation that only death brings. Grunting with the effort, Havoc shoved the mare into the wagon, the wheels creaking and sinking a little lower. The mare had been a little plump before her chest had been caved in by a spray of buckshot. Humming joyfully, Havoc began the long trek home, eager to get the bodies into the deep freezer by sundown. She’d had a busy morning, and the heat would speed up any rotting which would affect the brains of the ponies. She also had left her own project unfinished, a beautiful mechanical hoof with delicate wiring that looked just like the muscle fibres of a hellhound’s arm. She hoped it would prove just as strong. Excitement fuelled her hooves and the miles passed swiftly beneath her.

The sun was high overhead when her home came into view, the wagon chafing against the sweat on her back. Their home was a mostly intact old farmhouse, with ramshackle extensions added on here and there from scrap metal and old bricks giving an overall lopsided appearance. The stench of decay seemed to hang over the place, as if even entering here would risk life and limb. Havoc smiled, happy to be home. A ball of grey and neon came flying out of the house, shrieking excitedly.

“Youre back! Did you get them all?” Her little sister Hemlock peered around Havoc into the wagon of corpses, her eyes sparkling with glee.

“I did, and you wont believe how fresh one of them is!” Havoc unhitched herself from the wagon, starting to unload the bodies onto a gurney. “I think today is the day you get to try soul binding!” Hemlock stared at the recently deceased mare, reaching out a hoof to brush the lifeless face in awe.

“Is the potion ready? We should get started soon before the soul leaves this world completely.” Havoc nudged her sister, who blinked and instantly darted off towards the morgue. Wheeling the bodies in front of her and carrying the special mare in her magic, Havoc followed after. They'd been practising and preparing for months, hoping to snag a body that still had a soul attached but so far none had died recently enough. This mare was less than half a day old, there was a good chance that her soul still clung to the earth. Other ponies may scoff at such fanciful ideas, but the necromancer sisters knew that it was possible to harness a soul. Many moons ago they’d found a zebra journal, the contents indecipherable, but they’d both known it had contained great power. Through research and raiding long decayed libraries they had pieced together a spell, one that had been hastily copied from another book lost to time. A spell that, in theory, could bind the soul of the recently deceased to an object, and hold it there for eternity. As soon as she had found it, Hemlock had been dying to try it on one of her brain bots.

Havoc placed the mare on the table in the morgue and slipped off the hood of her hazmat suit, her breath frosting in the icy air. The generator that kept this place close to freezing often conked out, but it was working well today. Hemlock nudged her out of the way, eager to open up the mare’s skull. Leaving her to it, Havoc slumped in a chair, the fabric cool and crisp under her fur. A special brain bot slumped beside her, the arsenal of weapons that Havoc had personally designed currently still and lifeless. Normally the brain of a deceased animal or pony could fuel one of these babies for months, a rudimentary android running of spark-batteries and brain electrical rhythms to create mayhem in the wasteland. They made pretty good bodyguards until they inevitably went mad, you could even program them to say a few phrases like ‘Die, Zebra Scum!’. Hemlock had always theorised if she could strap a living brain, a soul, into one of their machines, she could create a machine that could strategise and fight with a will behind it instead of mindless machinery. The whine of the bone saw lulled Havoc into a doze as Hemlock pulled the brain gently from its case. She placed it into a dish of a pale potion with an unearthly glow, carefully kept brewed at all times for this one opportunity.

“Havoc!”

Havoc snapped out of her doze, sleepily shuffling over to the table. The mare’s empty skull gleamed with old blood and she had to resist the urge to rub her hoof on the skull. Bones felt so weird, nothing like the smoothness of metal machinery.

“It’s time.” Her sister sounded nervous, and excited. Nervicited? Havoc smiled at the thought. “Can you manage the spell?”

Havoc tossed her fluffy mane out of her eyes, giving her earth pony sister a confident grin. She’d practised this spell over and over, Havoc knew how important this was to Hemlock. “Naturally. Leave it to your big sister!”

Taking a deep breath, she focused deep within herself. Havoc allowed her body to relax, carefully forming the Zebrican runes within her mind. Her magic usually felt warm and full of joy, this magic was something else, something older and more sinister. It was cold, and a creeping sense of wrongness crawled up her spine, but she was undeterred. Focusing the spell onto the brain, she began to chant in an ancient, foul tongue, her eyes glowing and malicious waves of magic radiated from her horn. She could feel something within the magic, a mote of light hovering nearby and knew it was the soul of this mare, not ready to let go. Lashing out with the spell, she grabbed the mote of light, twisting it towards her, all the while howling in the long forgotten language of the stars. The room began to shake and the lights flickered, ignored by the two mares. The sensation of wrongness reached a peak, drilling into her own brain with a pain like she’d never experienced before but still Havoc held onto the mote of light, forcing it into the potion. The liquid flashed with a blinding beam of light and both mares were thrown backwards. The corpse tumbled from the table with a sickening crunch, then all was still. The light above them swung back and forth.

“Did it work?” Hemlock had dragged herself from under the couch where she’d been thrown, jamming her beanie back onto her head.

Havoc groaned, clutching at her horn. That spell had pulled all her magic reserves from her, she wouldnt be lifting so much as a coffee cup for weeks. “I think so? We won't know until we hook it up.” She slumped back down to the ground, her part in this was done.

“I’’l try now.” Hemlock’s voice sounded shaky, but her hooves were steady as she pushed the empty brain bot casing over to the potion. She’d modified this bot’s casing to have the magical speaker hooked directly into the neuronet, which in theory would allow a brain to speak directly through the speakers. Only in theory, all the brainbots she’d made so far had been from dead ponies or beasts, only able to parrot back preferred lines in reaction to stimulus. This one, she hoped, would be different. The brain felt slimy and slippery in her hooves as she transferred it into the casing, pumping the preservation fluid into the glass container. The brain floated there silently, hooked into the neuronet.

Havoc dragged herself up to the table to watch her sister work, excited to see if that fouled magic had been worth it. She sipped at a health potion, hoping in vain that it would restore some of her depleted magic. Hemlock looked at her excitedly.

“Moment of truth.” She flicked the brain bot’s switch, and the machine hummed to life. The neuronet sparkled, electrical impulses flickering through the enchanted diamonds.

“Where-Where am I?” A disembodied robotic voice, distorted slightly by the speaker, warbled out into the room.

“It worked!” Hemlock screamed in triumph, throwing her hooves around Havoc. The sisters danced in pure joy, their plan had worked! The brain was alive!

“Please, I cant see, I cant feel my hooves.” The voice had no emotion or inflection, but it still managed to sound afraid. “Where am I? Who are you?”

Havoc turned back to her creation, tapping a few more switches. “There we go, that should give you a sensor screen. You should be able to see us now, in your own way.”

The brainbot was silent for a moment, before speaking again. “Why cant I see you normally? Why are you all green, like a figure on a terminal?”

“It's just the way the scanner is. We had to build you out of scavenged parts, you know.” Havoc walked around the pony, tweaking a few things here and there. Hemlock knew everything about biocybernetics, but robotics was her jurisdiction.

“Build me? What do you mean? Where’s my husband? Where’s Peony? She's my daughter. What have you done with Peony?” One of the robotic arms twitched, waving like a hoof. Havoc smiled in satisfaction, all the parts were functioning normally. This bad beast would do some serious damage once the brain figured out how to work its weaponry. She couldn't wait to set it loose into a town of raiders!

“Relax,” Hemlock said smoothly, leaning back on the morgue table. “Your family is just fine, they’re back in town probably mourning your death.”

“My death?” The robot stopped waving its arm.

“Yup. Died of buckshot straight to the chest. So we came and got your body, a service to your family, and now you have an amazing second life as my greatest creation!”

The robot whirred, the lights on the neuronet glowing rapidly. “I’m dead?”

Hemlock sighed, moving the gurney out of the way. The mare’s carcass was folded grotesquely behind it, where it had fallen during the spell. “Scan for yourself.” She gestured at the body.

The robot floated softly up to it, the sound of the magical air cushioning it’s propulsion hissing softly. It seemed to stare at its previous shell for an eternity. “This is a joke, right? I’m in hell now or something?” It turned back to the sisters, the brain drifting softly in its liquid.

“Nope!” Hemlock said cheerfully. “Your brain is now in one of my sister’s state of the art brain bot casings, and I programmed everything in there. Your job will be to act as a guard, going into buildings we can’t and putting down any threats you find. Why, we’ve outfitted you with the best weaponry we could find, you could theoretically take out an army!”

Havoc smiled at how overjoyed her sister was, this was her passion, the reason she existed. Finding new and creative ways to bring life back into things who thought themselves dead and useless. She noticed the robot’s flamethrower beginning to whirr on, looks like it found the weapons file.

“I don't think so,” Havoc stepped between the brainbot and her sister. “Harm either one of us and the self destruct sequence coded into your hardware activates. It’ll kill you, then whichever one of us who still lives will hunt down your little family and put their brains in casings. Understood?”

The brainbot whirred, the diamonds on the neuronet playing a beautiful dance. Havoc knew the brain would be calculating the probability of survival, of succeeding in murdering both of them before the explosion tore it apart. The flamethrower powered down.

“Good bot.” Havoc gave it a friendly pat on the head, turning to her sister. “There’s a raider encampment two days away. Care to take it for a spin?”

Havoc’s face lit up and she squealed with glee, pulling out her map of the surrounding area. Bowing their heads, the girls got to planning their newest adventure.

Behind them, the sound of soft sobbing trickled out of the speaker.

Broken Hearts

“So, Screech.”

The pale unicorn mare looked up from her charcoal sketch, her nose smudged with dust. She raised an inquiring eyebrow at the cobalt stallion sipping a mug by the fireside.

“Tell me a story from the north.”

Screech tilted her head, reaching for her chalkboard. She was a mute, and it was never far from her hoof. Wiping it clean, she scrawled her response.

“Why?”

“Why not? The night is young, you are beautiful and I am bored.” He took a sip from his mug, grimacing at the taste of gritty tea. Screech flushed at his complement, even if she knew he didn't really mean it. Blaze was a total flirt, he had been to every mare and stallion who’d cross the path of the waystation she lived at. She’d come down from her stable high in the crystal mountains to experience some of the trading that happened at the station, but so far it had been pretty slow. She’d spent the days filling her sketchbook, staring across the desolate wasteland. Compared to the crystal white snow capped mountains surrounding their stable, the bleak brown dust and dead trees were downright hideous.

“What kind of story?” Truthfully, living a sheltered life in a secure stable far from the misery of the wastes had led to a very boring life for her. She didn't think she had anything interesting to say.

“I dunno.” Blaze stretched out in front of the flames, warming his hooves. “Something spooky. Or fun. A memory. Whatever you want.”

Screech frowned thoughtfully, wiping her slate clean again. She didn't really know many stories outside of the ones her grandmother used to tell, passed down from her grandmother in the before time.

“Do you know about the Wendigos?”

“Wen-di-goes?” Blaze spelled her word out slowly. “Nah, what’re they?”

“Monsters. They live outside our stable, dancing in the storms. My grandmother said they used to feed off hatred and fighting, which was rare in Equestria, but the war changed them. I think they were affected by a balefire blast. Now they feed off the life force inside you. Get caught in the snow, and they’ll turn you into one of them. Demented, frightful things. I pity them. Though, they aren't the worst that the mountains have to offer.” The chalk stopped, her magic glittering out. Blaze finished reading her slate, his eyes wide in the firelight.

“Sweet Celestia. What could be worse than demonic beings living in the snow?” He reached out with a hoof, hoofing another log into the flames. The fire cracked and popped, sending sparks spiralling into the night sky. A tin clattered, Screech looked up to see the gloomy Sweet Nothings heading to his cabin with a towel wrapped around his mane. He glanced over at them before looking away and scampering off. She was glad to see him settling in, however reluctantly.

Turning back to Blaze, she began writing again. “My great great grandmother saw them. She wasn't from Equestria, not like you think. Something happened to the Crystal Empire where she lived, something that made it vanish for an eon. When it returned, the zebra blasted it to kingdom come, destroying everything. She always said it was the best thing the zebra ever did, on account of the Umbrum.”

“What are Umbrum?”

“I'm not entirely sure. They are the living embodiment of fear and suffering, spreading it wherever they go. The Wendigo feed off hatred and fighting, but the Umbrum take everything. Ponies are left husks, unable to feel anything except pain and emptiness. They were sealed by the crystal heart long ago.”

“What's a crystal heart?”

Screech paused, gathering her thoughts. She couldn't reveal too much about the heart, it and its location was one of her family’s most closely guarded secrets. But she also didn't want to outright lie.

“It's a kind of spell, one that gets renewed every year. I guess you could call it a form of sealing spell.” Technically the truth, but it was also a physical crystal heart and one of the most powerful artifacts in the entire world. The energy it could generate was almost infinite. It was the only thing standing between their stable and its total destruction by the necromantic monsters waiting in the icy storms.

Blaze shifted uncomfortably. “So these, these Umbrum. They like suck out your soul?”

Screech’s horn glowed as she lifted her chalk. “The Umbrum aren't like you or me. They are beings made of smoke and gossamer, not bound to the physical plane. Some say they were the creation of Nightmare Moon or Discord, but we crystal ponies know they were remnants from an ancient evil older than Equestria itself. Either way, there is no escape from them. Walls and doors mean nothing to them, they can slip into even the sanctity of your dreams to feed. Your soul is laid bare, your worst fears and nightmares their playthings to enjoy. Once the Umbrum invade, you can't escape. They can't be killed by any method known to ponykind, even setting them ablaze is meaningless. My people tried to fight back, for years they waged a great war that devastated our people and the land surrounding our home, until eventually the last survivors succumbed to the overwhelming power of the Umbrum.”

Blaze was looking decidedly pale, his mug of tea forgotten. “But you said they were sealed, so something must have worked once.”

“Yes, but the cost was great.” Screech chose her words carefully. “A pony, a great princess, carved out her heart and offered it to the Umbrum in a desperate plea for them to leave. They laughed, rejoicing in her suffering and pain, but the act had stirred something in her citizens. It wasn't joy, or even hope, but defiance. Crystal ponies have always had a strange magic when we all come together, but this time it manifested in a great spell. The defiance and pain of all my people created a-” Screech paused, tapping her chalk. “A spell. It wasn’t forged from joy or friendship, like the Hearth’s Warming spell, but from exhaustion, emptiness and witnessing their beautiful leader tear out her own heart for them. It welled up inside of them, spewing forth over the Umbrum. You see, ponies need water to survive, but too much will kill us. It's the same for the Umbrum, the sudden influx of desolation was too much and it sealed them away. Our greatest fear is that the spell will fail, releasing them back into the world. Equestria would never survive.”

Blaze looked uneasily at the dark silhouettes of the mountains, looming over them in the night. He’d never suspected such an evil lay dormant, hidden away from the wasteland. It was bad enough here, imagining a world where even hope was stolen from them was almost too much to bear. Where once the mountain range had been a welcome sight, a comfort from the emptiness of the rest of the blighted land, now he felt they oozed malice.

Screech watched him for a time before turning back to her sketch. The Umbrum terrified her, and she knew better than most that the prison holding them was weakening.

The heart was cracked, and she was powerless to stop it.

For My Brother

I see it in my eyes, in the lines around my mouth. Sometimes I hear it when I laugh, or in the anger when I shout. It's inescapable. He’s always there beside me, no matter where I turn.

I tapped my hoof on the mirror, gently tracing out the eyes that we shared. Mine were green, his were blue, but everything else was the same. How I missed him, how I wanted to speak to him. So many times I could have reached out, so many times I chose not to, and now I stand here haunted by his memory, because now it’s too late.

The lines on the page blurred in front of me and I furiously wiped the tears from my eyes. No matter how many times I read it, no matter how many times I said it out loud, it didn't feel real. I wanted to run out into the street and scream at the world, shake it from its slumber and force it to stop turning because every single moment that passed was another moment without my brother. How dare the sun continue to rise when the light has left my heart, when a piece of me that I never realised was so important was suddenly torn away.

I was left hollow. My hooves smashed against the desk, beating it in fruitless fury, for nothing short of a miracle could turn back the clock. I knew all too well that miracles don't exist. The mirror in front of me trembled with the strength of my grief, the page slipping to the floor with a gentle rustle. Furiously, I stamped my hoof over it, smashing and tearing the hateful words as if destroying them would somehow undo what has been done.

Weeping, I sunk to the floor. Great ugly sobs that shook my entire body, pouring from my soul. I was never close enough, always so far away with my own life, and all the while he was struggling to find a path out of the darkness that had swallowed him. I knew he was lost, but knew that reaching out to find him would eat away at my own life, just as it had our mother. How many times had she written to me of him, the pages stained with tears and crumpled with anger. He’d spiralled into the world of dash, briefly resurfacing every now and again when a new foal had been born. Seeing his amazement and wonder at his own foals being born into the world had fuelled the hope in our own hearts, the unspoken plea that this would be enough to see him clean, this would be the light to guide him from the dead end he was speeding his way to.

Every single time that hope was lost, and eventually I had pulled away. I couldn't watch the brother I had adored destroy himself over wounds inflicted by those who came before us. Selfish, I'd thought, selfish of him to choose addiction over family. Only now, as I was curled up on the cold and rough ground, did I realise that I am the truly selfish one. Too selfish to make the hard choice to continue to be there for someone who only knows how to take.

The tears flowed hot and unchecked down my face, staining the glossy fur that was my pride. It would be rough and stiff in the morning, but at that moment I didn't care. All that mattered was the immense cavern that had taken residence in my chest, so wide and deep I could no longer feel my own heartbeat. Lifting my pipbuck, I scrolled through the files desperately searching for the last words we’d truly shared. I scrolled and scrolled, months passing by in a blink before I found them.

Happy birthday.

He’d wished me a happy birthday.

The sobs subsided as I grew quiet, staring at those words, searing them into my brain. His last words to me. I'd tried to contact him when I found he was sick, but he had never responded. These precious words were the last thing he ever truly said to me. I held the pipbuck close to my chest, aching to immortalise them inside my heart. I knew now I would never delete this message, this pipbuck had suddenly become more precious than gold to me. The last birthday wish from my brother to me, held within these ones and zeroes. No matter how far gone he’d been, how deep the addiction had pulled him, he had still made the effort to wish his little sister a happy birthday.

That was the kind of guy he was. The kind of brother. For all his faults, he wasn't a bad pony. I had always known that, and yet still I allowed the chasm to open between us in my desperation to not be pulled under by his violent lifestyle. The chasm would forever remain uncrossed with the echo of a long ago Happy Birthday shouted into the uncaring emptiness.

Holding the pipbuck to my chest, I hobbled over to my chair and threw myself down. The tears came and went as the hours ticked by, the sun slipping below my window to make way for the moon. I didn't know what the future would hold, and quite frankly it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I didn't let go of this moment, not even to sleep. If I let go, somehow it felt like I was letting him go, and that wasn't going to happen.

The night passed and I kept watch over his last words to me. A silent vigil for the conversations left unsaid and the love that through everything, had never faded.

Don't Climb the Stairs

Inspired by u/searchandrescuewoods

Spitfire stopped in her tracks, the wagon she was hauling creaking behind her. She tilted her head from side to side, still not believing what she was seeing.

“Spit?” Beamer came out from behind the wagon where she’d been keeping an eye out for bandits, pulling a small revolver out of her holster. Her mutilated wings shifted uneasily, still not used to being earthbound. “Everything okay?”

“You see what I'm seeing?” Spitfire continued staring, afraid to take her eyes off them. Beamer turned, following her gaze.

“What the fu-”

Nestled in the middle of the forest, as casual as you please, was a set of stairs. They looked like some giant pony had simply lifted them out of a mansion in Canterlot and set them down in the middle of a cleaning, they even still had an ornate bannister attached. The sun filtered through the trees, illuminating the stairs in an almost inviting way. Spitfire pulled the heavy wagon closer to the clearing, peering up at the top of the stairs. Sure enough, they led to nothing. Just.. sitting there. Being stairs. The wagon’s wheel caught on a rock, pulling her to a stop. It wouldn't fit in any further and she had a strict policy of not unhitching herself during travel unless she was sleeping or shitting, anyone could make off with her wagon and her whole life was in there.

“What do you think they are?” Beamer stepped past her, moving softly through the trees. The wind shifted, blowing gently against them. Spitfire paused, smelling the wind. Something wasn't right, the wind had lost the scent of the forest. It should smell of pine, sap and living things. This wind smelt like nothing. Almost nothing. She breathed it in, the faint trace of rotting flesh tickling the back of her nose. Dread nibbled at her mind.

“Beam, don't get any closer.” She didn't know why, but Spitfire knew that Beamer shouldn't get any closer to those stairs.

Beamer paused, her eyes still focused curiously on the stairs. “Why?”

“I don't know. Something isn't right here. This feels wrong.” She bucked the wagon back onto the road, the smell of the damp and dirt in the forest rushing back into her nose as she turned away from the eerie staircase. “We’ll ask Trip when we get to Hollow Shades, they might know something about it.”

Beamer paused, and Spitfire had a momentary flash of fear that she would take off and run up the strange steps, but instead she turned back to the wagon. Trotting into her place at the back, the teenager holstered her revolver, giving Spitfire a wave to continue their journey. Travelling to Hollow Shades was always challenging, the path meandered and twisted through a dense and dark forest. It forked, twisted, turned back into itself and writhed like a snake amongst the leaves, turning even experienced travellers back and out of the forest. Spitfire had only found the right path by pure chance once, and since then had developed a keen nose for when the path was playing tricks on her. She didn't need any spooky stairs making it even harder.

The boxes in her wagon shifted around, bumping as she walked. Beamer started singing in her high, pure voice, a song of melancholy nonsense. Spitfire found herself smiling, the uneasiness of before melting away in the soothing sounds of the forest and her foster daughter’s song.

She stopped, her mouth open again. Beamer came around from behind the wagon, curiously flicking her ears. It was unwise to stop in this forest, the pathway would sometimes flee and it would take days to find the right one again.

“What is it?” Beamer came trotting up, only to stop and stare. Where there should have been a fork leading to a figure eight path, there was a clearing. In the centre of the clearing, surrounded by motes of dust dancing in the beams of sunlight, there was another set of stairs, more ornate than the first. Great iron spirals decorated the bannister, seeming to dance merrily in the light. The plush carpet stairs looked soft and inviting, nestled amongst the moss.

“Beamer. “ Spitfire spoke low and quiet. The forest was devoid of the usual sounds of chirps and crickets, the scent of pine faded and replaced with a faint odour of decay. There should be songbirds hiding in the trees, this was one of the last places in Equestria they existed. For this kind of deafening silence to befall them only settled into Spitfire’s stomach as a deep and terrified foreboding. “Beamer I want you to climb into the wagon, slowly. Don't make any noise.”

“Bu-”

“Get. In. The. Wagon.” Spitfire hissed through clenched teeth. Beamer’s mouth snapped shut and she slipped between the canvas sheets covering the wagon, softly and silently. Spitfire felt her settle between the boxes before squaring her shoulders. This was going to be tough. The pathway had faded and vanished, this clearing had no business being here. By now they should have been within earshot of Hog Wild’s pigs, loud squealers that they were. Instead, all she could hear was a hushed silence, and the temptation of the stairs just begging to be climbed.

Turning her wagon gently around, she planted her hooves firmly on the pathway she’d been following until now. Picturing Trip Task clearly in her mind, Spitfire closed her eyes and broke into a gallop. Her hooves pounded against the dirt, rocks and sticks jabbing at the tender skin of her forelegs, yet she kept running with her eyes squeezed shut. Spitfire wasn't sure what kind of bullshit these stairs were but she knew that she didn't want any part of them. She ran as fast as she could, her wagon lurching and crashing behind her in the forest. Opening her eyes briefly to mark the trail, she could still see glimpses of a well lit clearing behind the trees, each time with a more lavishly decorated staircase sitting in the centre. The last one she saw was a beautiful marble spiral with golden trimmings. Slamming her eyes shut again, she kept running. Her breath came out in great heaves, the fire in her lungs nothing compared to the unbridled fear cold in her stomach. Whatever she did, she couldn't stop until she smelled the forest again.

The wagon bounced and Beamer shrieked from inside as she was thrown around, but still Spitfire kept galloping as if Nightmare Moon herself was on her hooves, which is probably why she ran smack into the backside of a large pig, who let out a very disgruntled squeal before running off towards the barn. Rubbing her nose, Spitfire stopped, staring around her with wild eyes.

“What in tarnation are you runnin’ from?” Hog Wild was standing before her, covered head to hoof in muck and mud from whatever she’d been doing. Her usual bouffant curls hung lank and filthy. “Ya’ll okay in there?”

Beamer fell out of the wagon, dizzy and staggering. She lurched over to the pig trough and vomited her entire breakfast into it before groaning and collapsing on the ground. Spitfire gasped for air, only managing a few words.

“In...woods….stairs.”

It was as if someone had set fire to Hog. Her eyes widened, she turned back to the town centre and galloped fast enough to leave muddy streaks on the ground. She ran up to the town bell and began bucking it as hard as she could, the peals echoing around the entire town. Ponies came pouring out from hidden entrances from the underground stable, armed to the teeth with all kinds of weapons.

Spitfire had gathered herself enough to unhitch her wagon, joining the townspeople. She didn't know why the mention of stairs had so terrified Hog Wild, but she intended to find out.

“What’s the matter, Miss Wild?” Trip came trotting out, her mane in total disarray.

“Spitfire’s here.”

“Well yes, we were expecting her.” Trip looked warmly over to Spitfire, a faint pink blush at the tips of her ears. “She hardly warrants the town alarum.”

“Nah, aint that.” Hog stepped down from the bell podium. “She seen stairs in the woods.”

The silence was deafening. Trip Task rounded on Spitfire, gripping her face with a fierceness she’d never shown before. “Are you certain?” She demanded desperately. Spitfire nodded, her cheeks squished against her teeth. “You saw stairs? Did you climb them? Did you climb them??” her voice had risen almost to a panicked scream.

“No!” Spitfire gasped, wrenching her head from Trips’ hooves. “We didn't go near them. Something was wrong with them, they were breaking the pathways. Clearings where there was no business being clearings. I took Beamer and ran, praying the paths would lead me here and they did.” Trip looked relieved, dropping her hooves to the ground and stepping back. “What are they?” Spitfire demanded.

“We don't know. But if they're there, you can't leave here for a moon. No one can. They appear sometimes, but are always gone with the next new moon.”

“What? Spitfire was outraged. “I have deliveries to make!”

“Doesn't matter.” Trip shook her head, the townsfolk starting to disperse. “You can't leave. If you do, they’ll only be waiting. It's a miracle you got here at all.”

“What do you mean? They're only stairs!”

“Stairs that reappear in clearings every turn you take. Stairs that get more and more tempting every time, until you just can't help but climb one. What harm could it do? Except you climb and climb and never find the top.” Trip looked sad, as if she was recounting something she’d seen before. “Then you do, and you come back down as if nothing had happened.”

Spitfire was extremely confused. “Then what's the issue?”

“You'd be just fine. But a foal here would vanish in the night. We don't know how or why, but that's the cost. Climb the stairs and they take a foal. And eventually, you will climb the stairs.”

“How?”

“No idea. Could be Discord’s magic, leftover and corrupted in the war. Could be zebra trickery. All we know is that’s what happens.” Trip looked pleadingly at Spitfire. “Please stay. If you leave, you can never return.”

Beamer walked up to them, her pale face still slightly green. “We can stay, can’t we Spit? It ain't worth the risk.”

Spitfire frowned, not liking what she was hearing. As an earth pony, she naturally hated magic of any sort. Untrustworthy stuff. She glanced over her shoulder at the forest, only to catch the faintest of glimpses of a clearing deep within the trees. A shudder ran through her body at the memory of the silence surrounding those clearings.

“We’ll stay.”

Relief spread across Trip’s face, and she pulled her friend into a fierce embrace. “Thank you.” She whispered in her ear.

Forgotten Pinkie Pie

Breathe.

Step.

Breathe.

Timing was everything. Misstep, breathe out of sync, and the prey would catch on they were not alone. My hooves felt cold against the dark cave floor, the roughly hewn stone carved by millennia of rain and rivers sharp against the sensitive tips. I knew these caves as well as I knew the sound of my own heartbeat, and that was all I could hear in the darkness.

I'd been following her all day, ever since she’d stepped hoof into the nest of caves I called my home. She was lovely and plump, walking primly in obviously new spelunking clothes. She stood no hope in the labyrinth of caves, but her determination to reach the fabled Mirror Pool drove her into the darkness.

Step. Breathe. Don't lose the synchronisation. The pony ahead of me walked carefully into the cave, lifting her lantern high as she explored the beautiful crystalline carvings etched into the walls. She muttered to herself as she took notes, completely oblivious to my presence. I paused, hiding behind a stalagmite. Counting my own heartbeats as she wandered around the cave, close to my space. The light of the lantern was bright and painful, but I forced my eyes to never move from the mare. She passed by, never noticing me.

Prey. I could smell her in the dark. These caves were my domain, I knew each curve of stone intimately. Those who entered always smelled of the outside, of sunshine and cotton candy, just like the pink mare who’d brought me into the world. She had the scent of flowers, sweat and dust. Good smells, healthy smells. The mare paused in front of a passage, holding her lantern as far as she could down it.

“Unnatural darkness.” She was still talking to herself. “Probably shouldn't go alone, but I don't want to turn back. Who knows what lies ahead.”

Yes. Go down the pathway, go deeper into the cavern. I knew what lay down there, a pool of glistening brightness, iridescent and swirling with malicious magic. My birthplace, my home. Irresistible temptation for such a nice, scholarly looking pony. The mare shook her head, letting out a trembling sigh before taking off down the passage. Silly mare. This was the only way out of the cavern. Moving quietly, I stalked down after her, staying just out of the reach of her lantern's light. We walked together, keeping in time with her meandering hoofsteps, until the cool glow of the pool met the warm lantern’s glow. Her hooves moved quicker now as she ran into the cavern, letting out a gasp of pure awe and joy.

From the cavern walls grew out glowing blue crystals that glittered with every colour of the rainbow, dripping from the ceiling and sprouting from the floor. They were everywhere, framing the jewel of the cave. A large green pool, glowing faintly with a pulsing magic, sat nestled in the centre. Spirals of sparkling magic swirled invitingly in the depths, mesmerising and bewitching to the untrained mind. Mist seemed to hover over the surface, billowing gently with the disturbance by the mare. I crouched at the entrance, waiting.

The mare stepped forward, her eyes wide at the enchanting sight. “The Mirror Pool! It exists! I found it!” She squealed, dancing in place. Setting down her saddlebags and lantern, she began lifting out magical devices, test tubes for samples and small strips of paper. She was close to the pool now, so close.

Like a flash I sprung from my hiding place, racing across the cave and pummelling into the mare. She fell forward with a shriek, her front hooves landing in the water. The magic within the water swirled away from the intrusion, and I grabbed her mane in my hoof, shoving her head in as well. She scrabbled to get purchase, trying to push herself out of the water, but my weight on her back had thrown her off balance. Now was the hard part, they would always fight the hardest when they couldn't breathe. Steeling myself, I braced a hoof against a nearby crystal and held on for the ride of my life. The mare bucked beneath me, struggling for air. Still I held on, not allowing her to rise. Bubbles floated up around her head as she screamed under the water, wasting precious air. I shoved my hoof harder against the crystal, giving more leverage to fight against the panicking pony. I could feel the muscles in her body heaving and roiling beneath me as she gave the last of her life to the unyielding cruelty of the Mirror Pool. her hooves thudded against the ground in her desperation, bloodying themselves against the sharp crystals. Still I did not yield, pressing down as hard as I could.

Her struggles eased, but I wasn't fooled. Prey had escaped me before by feigning death, so I held her head down and counted backwards from a thousand. There was no sound in the cave any more, simply dripping water and my whispered breathing as I counted.

“Zero.”

No movement. Relaxing, I climbed off her, dragging her corpse from the water. Her face was swollen and blue, her eyes bulging and bloodshot. My mouth watered, the eyes were my favourite. As I lifted her head, I caught sight of myself in the water, lank pink mane on dirty pink fur with cruel blue eyes, so much like the original me. I stared for a moment before shaking my head. Ever since she’d left me here, I'd thrived in the dark, feasting off those who wandered too close.

Tugging my prize, I made my way to the back of the cave, mumbling lyrics to a half forgotten song.

“Giggle at the ghosty…”

Beware False Prophets

“Please present your pass.” The pony standing at the door to the stable scanned his eyes over the pass presented to him, barely registering what he was seeing. “Thank you. Next.”

Slowly the long line of brightly coloured ponies shuffled forward, each one presenting the precious pass that allowed them passage into the depths of the stable. Stable-Tec had sent out the notice that all those who held a pass were to report to Stable Nine for processing. Just a precaution, they said, nothing more than a drill to ensure ponies could get in quickly and safely should the worse happen.

“Thank you. Next.”

The pony presented her pass, nervously looking over her shoulder at the long line of bored looking ponies behind her. Her saddlebags were heavy on her back. “You sure this is just a precaution?” She asked the guard as he scanned her pass. He flicked his eyes over her, hoofing back her pass.

“Yep. Nothing more than just a check to make sure we can do this right.” His voice was melodic and deep, he must have a beautiful singing voice. So many ponies who should have been fulfilling their cutie marks destinies were now soldiers. It was the same old story everywhere you went. “Thank you. Next.”

Sirens wailed, cutting across the clearing. As one, the throng of ponies looked up at the sky, scanning for the bombs that the sirens always heralded. Streaks of brightly coloured smoke trailed through the clouds, seeming to head straight for the mighty city of Cloudsdale. A hush fell over the crowd as the first missile struck home, the resounding boom taking a few minutes to reach their ears. Even from this distance they could see a piece of Cloudsdale break apart, the carefully sculpted cloud dissipating into the explosion.

She didnt know who the first to scream was, but suddenly everyone around her was howling in fear and anguish. The next explosion ripped apart the Cloudeseum, where many of them had spent time cheering on their favourite wonderbolt. The mare found herself shoved rom behind as the mob began to panic, all trying to cram into the stable at once. The guards were shouting something, she couldn't hear them over the shrieks and cries. Hooves kicked and bucked her as the crush began to push through the door, and the mare felt one of her ribs crack. She pulled her saddlebags tighter, protecting their precious cargo from the mob, keeping low and trying to find her way to safety.

She was swept along with the crowd, unable to see or feel where she was going. All she could see was a mass of brightly coloured ponies all pressing in together tighter and tighter as they streamed into the stable from the world gone mad outside. Faint booms thudded in her ears, more bombs finding their marks she supposed. Holding her hooves over her head, she waited for the panic to subside and the crush to stop.

A foal near her leg began to cry. She could only stare helplessly at it, her own body too tightly wedged to move closer. She tried making faces at the foal to calm it down, but it only sobbed even harder. Its mother reached a hoof down, rubbing the foal’s head gently. The room was hot with all the ponies inside, and soon the air conditioning of the stable whirred on, sending a cooling breeze down on them all. Sobs and shouts gave way to murmurs and whispers as the stable door swing closed with a clang, sealing them inside.

A stallion stepped up to the podium, his horn glowing as he magically amplified his voice.

“Fear not, citizens!” The mare could see the guard from before standing at the back of the room, their eyes meeting briefly as she scanned the crowd. There must be over a thousand ponies in here. Not as many as she’d hoped, but it would be enough. The stallion raised his hoof, still speaking. “We are safe from the explosions on here. Stable-Tec guarantees their stables can each take a megaspell straight to the door and remain unscathed! All we must do now is remain calm and wait.”

“What about my family? They were in Canterlot!” A mare called, sending another wave of fearful whispers and mutters across the crowd.

The stallion looked sad. “If they manage to get to the Canterlot Stables, then they will survive. If not, we have to hope. The Zebra will not win this war, it is only if we lose hope do they win! Look around you! We are all ponies here! They cannot reach us!” He cried in triumph.

The mare shook her head, pushing the switch in her saddlebag. Stupid ponies, so confident in their stables. Didn't they know that the Legate was a living god? Stables meant nothing to him. Her bag began to beep gently, and she climbed on the back of the nearest stallion. He glared up at her, opening his mouth to chastise her, only to snap it closed as he realised something was wrong with her stomach. The fur wasn't blue, it was faded.

Her stomach was striped.

“FOR ROAM!” The zebra mare screamed, right before the balefire egg in her bag exploded.

Based on Wolf in sheeps clothing