The Bewitching Hour

“Like this,” instructed Quiver Bolt, standing on her hind legs. With a slow breath, she drew back the bow's string, narrowed one eye, then let the arrow fly. The shaft whizzed through the forest and struck a bullseye she had painted on a tree trunk with a thud. The missile quivered, her aim true. She smiled and swept back her scarlet mane. “C’mon, sweetie. Won’t you give it a try?”

“...hmph,” came the neutral grunt of the unicorn who would later in life be called Shadow Scythe. She accepted the weapon, fished a fresh arrow from a quiver, and concentrated while the forest rustled around them under a breeze. The sun peeked in through the leaves, shadows cast over mother-and-daughter, and she used her hoof to draw back her knocked arrow.

The shot was let loose. It struck an inch away from her mother's shot. “Hey,” chirped Quiver who whistled. “That was a great shot!”

“Thank you,” answered the young unicorn, her snout drawn in a line.

Quiver frowned and placed a hoof on her daughter's pale shoulder. “Is something wrong? If there's anything I can do-”

Her daughter shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, mother. I just don't want to be an archer. Nor a hunter like father. Surely, there has to be more to the world than... this!” Her snout momentarily curled, her icy blue eyes narrowed. “I suppose that's why father does his research...”

“Y-yes. Your father's a stallion of high ideals. Always believing something wondrous and new awaits us! But there are miracles all around us,” Quiver assured before giving the filly a hug. Yet her daughter remained limp and unreceptive in her maternal grasp. Her expression soured, wondering if she was clinically depressed.

Quiver Bolt planned this trip in an attempt to bond with her daughter. But like usual, she continued to shut her out, seemingly disinterested in life. The only time she appeared lively was when she lost herself in solitary research. She had even caught her child studying her husband Quicksilver Bullet's notes in secret, like she was hungry to devour every ounce of knowledge she could get ahold of.

Then came a faint rattle, and her daughter swiftly knocked another arrow, the bow trained on a barely perceptible snake that slithered through the dense grass. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, her lips curling into what could only be described as a malicious smile.

“Honey, don't!” Quiver warned, pushing down her daughter’s lithe forelegs.

“Why? It could attack us,” she retorted with a sneer, drawing her weapon back, still trained on the limbless reptile.

“It's harmless,” the veteran archer insisted, once more lowering the unicorn’s aim. She exhaled when the animal vanished back into the wild. Quiver tried to shake off this disturbing feeling. She didn’t dare to imagine her own child taking pleasure in another living being’s suffering!

“Pft! How disappointing,” the young unicorn scoffed, almost inaudibly. For a moment, mother and daughter stood in awkward silence, only broken by the low howl of wind rustling through the tree limbs and leaves.

Quiver justified this behavior as her child transitioning into that awkward phase in life called puberty. She recalled her own teenage years filled with angst and a lack of direction. Surely, she would grow out of this over time! She and Quicksilver simply needed to support her.

“Mother...don't you ever want more from life?”

Quiver Bolt shook her head. “Not at all! What more could I want outside of your father you? I’m happy with the life we’ve established for ourselves. And you will be too, one day!”

“...I see,” she replied in an almost wistful tone. “If you ask me, life is pointless without ambition. Only those with stronger wills can truly thrive.”

The older mare released her hold and sighed. “I need to hide your father’s studies better. Come, let's pack up!” She forced a wide smile.

The picnic before their practice had been equally cumbersome. They loaded up what they had taken for the trip in silence and placed them back in the saddlebags. No doubt Quicksilver Bullet was still away on his own adventure, trying to some rare, exotic creatures and document them. But like any devoted wife, she would have dinner ready by the time he came home.

At least their child was dutiful, helping her mother prepare the food and clean the dishes without complaint. Quiver hummed while she set the table, whereas her daughter worked in meticulous, eerie silence. They lived in a large hut out in the middle of nowhere. The walls were lined with weapons and trophies that marked Quicksilver Bullet's many triumphs.

Among the arsenal was the Vorpal Blade, the legendary weapon that had felled the Jabberwocky. Their daughter's first kill, albeit her parents were still ignorant she had a hoof in that, convinced the beast had fallen on the ornamental blade and expired when it breached the heart.

The doorknob rattled, frame creaking open. “I'm home!” Announced Quicksilver.

“Welcome, honey,” beamed Quiver Bolt, trotting over to nuzzle her lover. After their short embrace, the hunter placed his coat and hat on a rack. “You should have seen our child today! She almost managed a bullseye on her first shot!”

“Haha! Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied with a grin and stroked his wife's mane. “She takes a lot after you, I'm sure!”

“Oh, please! You're quite a skilled shot too,” she reminded, gesturing to the blunderbuss on display. Then, planting a kiss to his scruffy cheek, Quiver led him into the kitchen, where their daughter had already seated herself. They too settled in, the room filled with succulent scents of buttered slices of bread, salads, and the aroma of tea and spiced wines to make a small feast.

“So, how was your trip, father?” The pale unicorn asked after finishing her mouthful.

“Sadly, I didn't make much progress today,” he admitted. “I have to step it up if I don't want to be seen as a joke.”

“You're not a joke, honey,” reassured Quiver, planting another kiss on his fuzzy cheek. She enjoyed the feel of his bristled beard on her face, and the faint taste of alcohol on his lips, since he would often indulge in some light drinking during his research into the borders of the world.

The couple sat side-by-side and nuzzled. She had risked and sacrificed much for the sake of her beloved, aware that her reputation had taken a dive once she started to date the 'crazy' cryptozoologist. But she didn't care. Let the rest of the world think whatever they wished to. Looking at their beautiful daughter further convinced her she made the right choice.

The family closed their eyes, and the parents said a short prayer before they dug in. Unlike her parents, the younger unicorn only nibbled at her meal, most of her attention instead focused on her father's discarded newspaper.

While she read, her mom and dad thanked whatever false god they believed in for their cozy, domestic atmosphere. To the one who would be Shadow Scythe, it was a reminder that they lived outside civilization, a fact she wasn’t happy with.

“You two graduated from a prestigious academy,” the young unicorn spoke up suddenly.

Both of them nodded. “It's how we met,” reminded Quiver, who glowed and leaned her head on her husband's shoulder.

“I want to study somewhere like that too. If I work hard enough...”

Quiver Bolt frowned. “Dear, don't be in such a rush to grow up! There will be plenty of time for that later. But whatever you decide, we'll support you.” Her husband also nodded, both of them aware of what a prodigy their daughter had proven to be already. Their hearts swelled with pride at the sight of her, confident that one day she would surpass all their expectations.

*****

Groans rose from Shadow Scythe, waking up with drool running down her lip when she lifted her head. Her black-trimmed white hood had been cast back, her pale mane a mess, the dark circles under her eyes thicker than before. She was in a private section of another library, having drifted off after hours of research that had started from the moment the doors were opened.

“Just what I need. More stupid dreams,” she grumbled, failing to swallow down a sniffle as tears splattered on the open book. The reaper slammed the cover and stood up, disappointed that she still found nothing new to learn after all her hard work. Another wasted day.

The reaper headed upstairs and rose to the rooftop. Night had fallen over the city, quiet save for the insects in the distance. She tried not to think about her parents, yet the knowledge she had ultimately disappointed them haunted her.

Shadow Scythe surveyed the buildings that stretched out under a starry sky, lost in wistful contemplation while she scanned the area. Once again, she found solitude as she wiped her face on a sleeve hemmed in black. The air was cold enough to make her shiver, despite the layers of bandages protecting her under pallid robes. She stroked her fractured horn, a reminder of failure.

Her reverie was broken when she spotted a silhouette atop another roof. “What the-” She could have been looking on a likeness similar to her own, only this hooded figure's cloak was tattered inky blackness, and its crescent moon rust-colored scythe was thicker than hers.

Who was this? And how long had they been spying on her..?

She curled her lip and teleported over, desperate to catch the stranger unaware before they escaped. Her scythe manifested in her thin hands and gleamed under the moonlight that caught its surface. But while her arrival was almost instantaneous, when she materialized no one was there. Only a faint magical signature that somehow felt familiar.

It couldn’t have been Belladonna or one of her insufferable friends. And she doubted that self-righteous hypocrite, Zeloph, would stoop to stalking her. So who could it possibly be...?

“Gahh! I’m starting to get paranoid. Whoever you are, I'll deal with you later,” she swore aloud and lowered her weapon.

Returning to the library before it closed, Shadow Scythe was unaware her deathly assailant continued to watch her every move, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity...