Sunny Starscout tossed and turned in bed. She had tried everything to fall asleep, from warm milk to counting sheep, but nothing worked. Her thoughts were too loud, relentlessly piling on worry after worry about Equestria’s future. What she had achieved just one month ago was nothing short of a miracle, rekindling the magic of friendship between three deeply divided pony communities. Despite losing her lighthouse home in the process, the whole town had pitched in to help rebuild it, their cooperative spirit rekindled at last.
But this was just the beginning. Everypony knew Equestria was greater than just three communities that were a day’s walk apart. There were still an uncountable number of others out there, all with their customs and potential prejudices – in addition to tall tales of curious creatures once allied under Princess Twilight Sparkle. Would it even be possible to unite them all?
Groaning into her pillow, Sunny rolled out of bed and switched on the light. If she were to sleep at all, she needed a distraction.
“Oh, Princess Twilight,”she said aloud to the figurines of Twilight and her friends. “If only you were still alive. Maybe you could help me find my way?”
That got her thinking. She’d already discovered a few trace relics from Equestria’s past here and there. Could there be more secrets hidden amongst the belongings of her late father, Argyle Starshine?
Stretching her limbs, Sunny made her way to the basement, switching on the lights as she went. Argyle had left a lifetime’s worth of mementoes down there, including countless books filled with archaeological research. Being a single father was a time-consuming job, but at any free moment, Sunny could find him in his study, scribbling down report after report. The sight of books piled as high as the ceiling was imprinted on the back of her mind, and though she wasn’t old enough to understand them at the time, she could tell their importance by sheer quantity alone.
Rolling up the old rug that covered the trap door, she found the lock had been busted open. That’s odd, she thought. It looked fine the last time I checked… Eh, it was probably just damaged during Sprout’s attack.
Upon completion, the lighthouse was almost as good as new, but as with any restoration project, there were always some scars left behind from its previous destruction. Grabbing the latch, she leaned back and wrenched the door open, the stiff joints creaking and kicking up a cloud of dust straight into her face, making her cough.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been down here. Even a stallion as open-minded as Argyle had taught the need for a little privacy sometimes. The basement wasn’t a place to play around with, filled with heavy and sometimes sharp objects that could seriously hurt a careless child. This did beg the question, however; had she ever been down here, at all?
Sunny shook her head. Why did it matter? She was an adult now. She knew how to be careful. Were her dad alive today, surely he’d be willing to share at least some of the information he’d collected over the years. Grabbing a small torch between her teeth, she waited for the dust to settle before making her way down the stairs.
The basement wasn’t well lit by any measure. With the lock in place, the townsfolk couldn’t restore electricity there, forcing Sunny to rely on her torch for investigation. A cold breeze washed over her as she reached the bottom, body shivering. She had to admit, places like this always creeped her out a little. She blamed it on her teenage habit of binging horror movies – though the scariest thing about them was always the fantastical racism toward other pony kinds.
Naturally, the basement was stuffed full of boxes, stacked on top of one another so tightly she could barely squeeze between them. With some effort, however, she managed, rearing up to reach over and pull one of the larger down. Breaking the masking tape seal, she shone her torch inside. Jackpot! This one box alone was filled with enough journals to write an entire textbook on the chronological history of Equestria.
What stuck out to her the most, however, was one book which was noticeably different to the others. Though slightly tattered and frayed at the edges, its title was as clear to read as the day it had been written, over a millennia ago.
The Daylight Horror, by Twilight Sparkle, the title read.
Sunny gasped, almost dropping her torch in the process. Of all the legends she’d heard about Twilight Sparkle, her notoriety as a horror-fiction author wasn’t one of them. The brief time she’d spent in Bridlewood hadn’t been nearly long enough to understand the ins and outs of unicorn creativity, much less one from an Alicorn of great renown.
Giggling with excitement, she picked up the book in her right forehoof and carefully made her way back up the stairs. Already her head was filled with possibilities over the book’s contents. She knew that ancient Equestria worshipped a sun-deity known as Celestia, so perhaps that was the inspiration for Twilight’s creativity? One thing was for sure; she couldn’t wait to find out.
Flopping down onto her sofa, she switched off all the lights, save for a single, small lamp on the table next to her. The mood had to be perfect. With great care, Sunny opened the book, bending the cover slightly to ensure none of the pages stuck together.
Preface
Dear Diary
I’m writing this as a separate entry to my regular friendship journal, as recent events need to be recorded in their own, separate chronology. As Princess of Friendship, it’s my responsibility to ensure the safety of all ponies under my leadership, including in times of natural—or magical—strife.
Today is Sunday, October seventeenth, Celestial Era year eleven-hundred and twenty-three, and something strange is happening in Ponyville. Among the adult population, there has been a forty-per cent uptick in the frequency of nightmares.
This, by itself, wouldn’t normally be a cause for concern. The Summer Sun Celebration is just around the corner, and it will be the last which Princess Celestia and Luna attend as royalty before retirement. I’ve been preparing extensively for this event, and while I am prepared to handle the stresses that can come with any big change in leadership, the same cannot be said for the average pony.
Change is always as stressful as it is inevitable, and It’s no secret how much has changed since I arrived in Ponyville some years ago. From the redemption of Princess Luna—which I wrote about extensively in a separate biography, with Luna’s permission—to my ascension to Alicornhood, Ponyville has gone from a small, rural settlement south of Canterlot to a bustling multi-cultural hub. My School of Friendship has been the most recent addition, and though it’s been successful in accepting creatures of all stripes, it didn’t come without its share of controversies – and nightmares.
However, it’s the details of these nightmares which present the problem; every dream is the same. Every single pony I’ve interviewed has described being consumed by a bright, all-consuming light that erases them from existence.
At first, I related this to my extensive plans to automate the solar and lunar cycles. If I can understand the magic Celestia and Luna embody, I can potentially set the corresponding spells to feed off the world’s natural magic, thus making the day and night pass without intervention. While no spell can ever be perfect, the chance of the sun becoming anywhere near powerful enough to kill ponies are astronomically small.
Even so, I’ve contacted Princess Luna about the nightmares as a precautionary measure. Perhaps she can get to the root of the problem faster than I can? Dream walking is a magic that’s still a little out of my depth if I’m honest. I’ve asked the ponies afflicted to report their dreams in a journal and to report the results to me. If I can log and plot the data points, I can better inform Princess Luna and ease their minds.
I hope that this text, tentatively titled ‘theJournal of Nightmares’, will be short enough to act as a supplement to my regular diary entries, as opposed to a full book’s worth of information. Only time will tell how this develops, but at the very least, I can gain a better understanding of dream mechanics for the future wellbeing of all creatures, not just ponies.
As expected, Twilight’s book was a historical goldmine. From the way she wrote about them, Sunny gathered that Celestia and Luna were not gods, but Princesses in their own right, directly raising and lowering the sun and moon each day, respectively.
If anything, it was a testament to how far Equestria had fallen, and how much further it had to go in reclaiming its lost magic. If ponies could rekindle but a fraction of Celestia and Luna’s power, it would revolutionise every aspect of pony life for the better.
Leaning her head back, Sunny let the notebook flop open against her chest as she stared up at the dimly lit ceiling. So much of her life had been defined by dreams and fantasies. While she was living proof that, sometimes, dreams could come true, she knew that not every fantasy was achievable.
Celestia and Luna could easily have been an invention of Twilight’s story, building on the familiar myths to keep her readers engaged. To most ponies, the idea of using magic to control day and night would be absurd; but then again, so was the idea of friendship between pony kinds. The line between history and legend was no longer clear cut. How many secrets did ancient Equestria still have left to uncover?
Sunny let out a long sigh, rubbing her hoof down her face and making a ‘pfft’ sound with her lips. She was overthinking things again. This ‘journal’ was just the tip of the iceberg; she could evaluate the factual details another time. The story had her hooked, and she couldn’t wait to see where it would go next.
Flicking through the notebook, she counted at least a hundred more pages worth of text. Much like Sunny’s investigation, Twilight was just getting started.
Week 1
Dear Diary
I wish I could say my correspondence with Luna worked out for the better. As far as nightmares went, she hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary! I’ll admit the sample size is relatively small, but I would’ve thought she’d notice some form of a trend. I won’t lie and say it isn’t frustrating, but it’s only a minor setback.
In her defence, my initial report was a little vague. I’ve now written down a list of the specific ponies afflicted, and she’s assured me she’ll keep a special eye on them going forward. That’s one thing off my mind, at least. For now, I’m turning my investigation toward the source of the problem. With any luck, I can nip it in the bud before it gets out of hoof.
What’s bugging me is how contradictory this sleeping sickness is. To conventional wisdom, it’d be easy to assume the afflicted would be reluctant to sleep, or at least have shorter sleep cycles, right? Well, the opposite is true! They’re sleeping excessively, and even when they wake up, they spend a lot of time in a daze, barely aware of their surroundings.
I’ve crunched the numbers, and if my data is accurate, the average number of hours the subjects sleep is seventeen hours. At the extreme end, one or two have been sleeping so much, they’ve almost lost track of time! I wonder if the extended haziness is affecting the formation of long-term memories?
The more I think about it, the more obvious it is that these nightmares are a symptom of a larger problem, not just stress. If I want to fully understand this illness, I’ll need to study test subjects directly.
The tricky part will be finding a pony whose sleep I can monitor. Depending on the condition’s severity, a direct medical approach may tamper with the results. Even if stress isn’t a direct cause, I can’t rule out it as a contributing factor. For now, I think I’ll focus on using magic to do science. I know that sleep spells are often prescribed to patients suffering from insomnia, though I’ll have to be careful to ensure the sleep feels natural.
Despite the prominence of the illness, I’m still optimistic that it’s not too late to find treatment. I have two avenues of investigation open to me, and the more thorough my research, the sooner I’ll arrive at a concrete answer.
Sunny re-read the entry’s last paragraph several times over, frowning as she did so. What kind of horror story was this? It was starting to read more like an article in a science magazine than anything else.
Maybe I’m looking at this wrong? Maybe this did really happen?
The journal had no preface or anything to suggest it was a work of fiction. Even stories claiming to be ‘based on true events’ had at least some disclaimers. Perhaps it was simply a work in progress, never finished?
She let out another frustrated harrumph, her ignorance of Equestrian history exposed. Her quest for friendship was off to a grand start, but when even the unicorns had become averse to magic, it was hard not to worry such knowledge was lost forever – or worse, re-written in the face of prejudice.
Sitting up for a moment, Sunny stretched her hooves and took a deep breath. Why am I working myself up over what I don’t know? Even if the old magic is gone for good, the new magic of friendship still works just fine. All I have to do is figure out how to best use it.
She was just getting started on her journey to reunite friendship, so of course there was a lot to do. That’s why she had friends to help her. For now, whether Twilight’s story was fact or fiction didn’t matter. She could just enjoy the story as is, and maybe apply some of its ideas later.
Shuffling back down, Sunny rolled onto her stomach, fluffed the pillow and picked up the journal again.
Week 3
Dear Diary
I’m officially calling this condition ‘Sleepless Light Syndrome’, or SLS, for short. Where do I even begin? Everything I’ve done to relieve the symptoms has been in vain. Not only has the condition worsened, but it’s spreading. I think once word got out, more ponies started to report symptoms – or at least, what they think are symptoms. It’s quickly becoming a moral panic! And on top of all that, Princess Luna hasn’t been able to access any of their dreams. None! You’d think the Princess of Dreams could offer some window into sleep disorders, but apparently, she’s too busy to help with—
Okay, let me step back a bit. I guess it was short-sighted of me to think an illness like this could be cured so easily. Not helping matters is the fact that Fluttershy now also has SLS. Sweet Celestia, I wish I had some lead on what’s causing it all!
Anyway, about the symptoms. Most of the initial patients are still sleeping excessively, but that hasn’t made them any less active. Remember when I said they were walking around in a daze? Well, it wasn’t a semi-conscious state after all. They were sleepwalking.
One pony in particular… what was their name again? I know I saw them yesterday, but… for some reason, I just can’t remember their name. I wrote it down here somewhere. They’re the green unicorn who’s a magic scholar from Canterlot… I’ll have to amend my notes later.
More to the point, I’ve observed them aimlessly shambling through the streets. Their eyes appear glazed over, obscuring their natural eye colour with this sickly peach-like colour. I must admit, it was quite a shock when I first witnessed it. No wonder ponies are starting to feel paranoid.
In one or two instances, I’ve heard the afflicted talk in their sleep. It’s little more than a vague muttering, but I think it’s worth reiterating here. The most common phrases are as followed:
“LIGHT… RISING…”
“HOT… BURNING…”
“BRIGHT…”
Sunny paused. For some reason, those phrases conjured a pang of familiarity. Where had she heard them before? Tapping her forehead, she glanced around the room, though what she expected to find, she didn’t know.
Her gaze settled on the picture of herself and Argyle. Despite the dim light, she could still pick out the details: the toy wings slotted over her back, and her dad with a fake horn jutting out from his forehead. If only he’d known he was on borrowed time. Maybe then he’d have given her a more thorough, unbiased lesson on Equestrian history. But alas, he’d died before he could… what, exactly?
Sunny shook her head. What the heck was she worrying about? Her father’s illness wasn’t hereditary, and he’d left behind a solid legacy for her to capitalise on. Besides, it wasn’t uncommon for ponies to talk about the weather. Of course she’d heard those claims before! Hitch was always the first to moan when the days started getting hot. She was just spooking herself.
Well, I guess I got what I wanted, she chuckled internally. She had to share this story with her friends at some point. So far, it was the kind of mystery that was hard to put down!
This might imply a certain level of photosensitivity, which in turn, could suggest the condition is an infectious disease of some kind. Even as the effects grow more pronounced, it’s hard to say. I have many hypotheses to test, but I… I’m scared.
I’m scared that my research isn’t coming along fast enough, and that I’m failing in my duties as a Princess. I’m doing everything I can, but what if it’s not enough? What if I’m already too late, and all Ponyville is doomed? What will happen to Fluttershy if I can’t keep this under control?!
Fluttershy coming down with the sickness may be a blessing in disguise. I’ve been needing a guinea pig to test on, and I know she trusts me. One thing’s for sure; I’m going to do everything in my power to stop the spread!
From today onwards, I’m using my authority as a Princess to put Ponyville into quarantine lockdown. All students in the School of Friendship will be relegated to their dorms, and will only be allowed out for periodic shifts of food and exercise. All transport to and from Ponyville will also be suspended, at least until I know what I’m dealing with.
All this, I do with a heavy heart. I hope that my friends will be able to keep everyone calm while I explain the situation. If I’m to be the future ruler of Equestria, as Celestia and Luna want me to be, then I must consider the whole nation, not just a tiny part of it. With any luck, my decision to do this now will make it easier to eliminate the problem while it remains on a smaller scale.
I’ll ask Spike to pen a letter to Princess Celestia immediately. Perhaps she has some greater insight into what’s happening?
Week 4
Dear Diary
Fluttershy’s participation has been invaluable, though I’m no closer to finding a cure. I’ll try to keep this entry on the positive side, as I realize I’m being less than impartial about the whole incident. It’s hard to remain objective when the fate of a whole town, and possibly an entire nation, rests on your shoulders, but I’ll do my best.
Though I’ve yet to identify the source of SLS, I now know it causes both external and internal symptoms. As the condition worsens, ponies start to develop large cysts, matching the bright peach glow that consumes their eyes while sleepwalking. The cysts start small, almost unnoticeable to the naked eye. But when they start to grow, they quickly start to consume the ponies in question.
Six out of the ten patients I’ve interviewed seem permanently trapped in their trance-like state. Nothing wakes them up, no loud noises, no pain response—though testing this stretches the limits of ethical science—not even the smell of food. I’ve never seen a pony so oblivious to the smell of Pinkie’s cupcakes before.
Samples of the cysts aren’t easy to come by. The afflicted ponies have shown a dramatic increase in aggression. Walking to Fluttershy’s house, three separate patients—who I will henceforth call ‘dreamers’, for the sake of simplicity—went from a slow trot to a full-on galloping charge straight for me. Luckily, I managed to get airborne so quickly, as despite missing me, the dreamers didn’t stop, and… well, now I have fewer test subjects to analyse, let’s put it like that.
Fluttershy, for her part, has done exceptionally well in coping with the condition. Her regimented focus on running her animal sanctuary seems to help take her mind off the dreams. Compared to other patients, her symptoms are developing at a substantially slower rate. This makes me wonder; how much of the infection is tied to a pony’s mental state? It seems like an odd thing to consider, but right now, I need every clue I can find. What I can say for certain is that the symptoms are developing as a fungal infection, growing off a pony’s body.
Perhaps I can try a variety of antifungal medications? I’m sure either the Ponyville Pharmacy or Zecora will have some in stock. Failing that, I know I have several books on medicinal spells, many of which deal with first aid. I know from experience why magic isn’t used on physical ailments, as Celestia will remember from my days as a schoolfilly. I’m not a doctor, so I’ll only use spells as an absolute last resort.
I’m starting to lean more toward a magical origin for SLS, like the effects of Poison Joke. Of course, this infection is far more serious, but I need to narrow down my options. For now, the quarantine measures will stay as they are. The smaller the scope of infection remains, the better. I just hope the infection hasn’t spread to the Friendship School. This whole thing is hard enough to manage with pony physiology, much less other creatures.
Regardless, I’m not giving up. I will find a cure, and I will prevent further cases from spreading. I just hope the lockdown isn’t causing too much disruption.
Week 5
Dear Diary
I… I can’t believe I’m about to write this. It doesn’t make any sense. It shouldn’t have escalated this quickly, not after such a slow development. It…
The sun hasn’t set in three days.
It’s the day of what was supposed to be the Summer Sun Celebration, and obviously, I cancelled the public festivities. But… the quarantine was supposed to work! Who got out? Is Cloudsdale infected, too? Rainbow Dash, or some other mail Pegasi, carried the blight to Canterlot, but I checked. None of the patients who I talked to were Pegasi.
I know, I’m rambling. I should try to focus on coherency so that future ponies can understand what happened, but at this point, I’m honestly at a loss for words. SLS must be a curse of some description. It’s the only thing that even comes close to explaining how fast it has escalated.
The blight itself, it… it’s growing everywhere. Entire homes have become consumed by it, oozing out gigantic bubbles of withering puss. The ponies inside are undoubtedly dead. I can’t explicitly confirm them as such, but knowing what’s happened to every dreamer, so far? I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere near that house. The best I can do is assume the occupant was patient zero, and corner off the area.
I’ll be honest, I’m running myself ragged trying to fight off this blight. I’ve barely had any sleep at all since it all started. I’ve chugged down every last drop of coffee in the house, pushing myself to do more and more research. Spike checks on me regularly, and to his credit, he tries so hard to keep me in shape, physically and mentally. I know he cares about me, but he’s still just a little dragon. He can’t possibly know what front line warfare against an unseen enemy is like.
The night the sun didn’t set was the last time I looked in the mirror, and let’s just say it’s a good thing Rarity hasn’t seen me recently. If she knew how dishevelled I look, I swear she’d have a heart attack! Ah, if only my problems were as simple as beauty routines. Poor Rarity.
I guess I can’t keep it a secret much longer. It’s not just Fluttershy who’s become infected. Rarity is a dreamer now, too. Sweetie Belle was staying over with Applebloom when the lockdown started, and she’s been there ever since, though I’ve yet to explicitly tell her why. I had hoped that, despite everything, I’d be able to save both her and Fluttershy. They’re both strong-willed ponies, filled with determination to represent their elements of harmony.
Sweet Celestia, this is hard for me to write. I can’t lie, when I realised just how fast their minds were destroyed by SLS... it hurt more than words can express. One day, they were soldiering on, as if it were little worse than a common cold. The next… they just weren’t themselves. They were scraping at the castle doors, banging constantly while screaming incoherently about the burning light.
Rarity. Fluttershy. I’m sorry. I’ve failed you both. I tried my best, but it wasn’t enough. Now with whatever happened to Celestia – and Luna, too…
Sunny paused, closing the diary as she sat up. The lump in her throat was huge. It took everything she had not to break down in tears. Though she hadn’t known most of her friends for long, the thought of one day losing them to a mind-eating virus was almost too much to bear.
Rolling off the sofa, she took a long, deep breath in as she stretched her limbs. She was sweating profusely, so much so she’d drenched the sofa’s pillow. She’d expected a good, old-fashioned scary story, and, well, she’d gotten it in spades, and then some. Her heart was racing, and her gut clenched so hard it hurt, like she’d eaten an entire bakery’s worth of sweets. Not helping matters was the sudden stuffiness befalling her front room, the stone walls of her lighthouse radiating away all the day’s heat.
Trotting over to the other side of the room, Sunny drew back the curtains and pulled open the window, letting the cooler night air wash over her. That’s better, she thought, shivering a little. She had to hand it to Twilight. She sure had a way of making her stories feel believable – if they were indeed fiction.
Of course it is, she shook her head. I shouldn’t let this story get to me. Twilight’s probably just playing on old pony myths or something. There’s no way this can be real.
Despite this reasoning, she still couldn’t shake the strange sense of familiarity the tale had sparked. Something was missing, and she couldn’t quite put her hoof on it. Perhaps, she considered, it was based on a scary story like one her father told her? But, if that were the case, why couldn’t she remember it?
Oh, dad, she sighed. If only you were here to remind me.
Perhaps that was it? The story reminded her of how much she had to lose – and how much she’d already lost. She’d just turned thirteen when Argyle passed. He’d done well to soldier on through his illness, but ultimately, it was terminal. One day he was alive, the next, he just didn’t wake up.
Sunny had never enquired about the details of his death. She’d never cared. Her dad was dead, and that was hard enough to deal with without knowing the details. It was yet another in a long line of information she felt like she should remember, but didn’t.
“Snap out of it, Sunny!”she yelled, slapping herself across the cheek. “You have great friends now, just as dad would’ve wanted. He’d be so proud of you. So, stop worrying about the past and finish the story already!”
Her words echoed through the empty room and died away all too soon. It had been a long time since her home felt this empty. Some relaxing read this turned out to be…
Biting her lip, she returned to the Sofa. Whatever danger Twilight described was long gone, taking any need to worry about some stupid curse with it. She’d made it this far, and she still wanted to pass it on to her friends, so she would finish it. With that in mind, she picked up where she’d left off.
I wish I knew what was going on. Celestia’s never late to lower the sun. She wouldn’t become a tyrant like Nightmare Moon. It’s not her nature at all. There’s got to be something I’m missing, something to connect the dots and tell me about the origins of this blight. Think, Twilight, think!
Maybe I’m looking in the wrong place? I’ve always been sceptical of curses. It’s not that magic can’t be used maliciously, far from it. The problem with curses has always been how loosely defined a ‘curse’ is. Magic can come from naturally occurring plants, like Poison Joke, but it’s quantifiably different to the magic that comes from ponies.
Pony magic either occurs as a passive buff, like Earth Pony strength of Pegasi ability to fly and manipulate the weather, or requires an active sustaining force from a Unicorn. A pony like Zecora can’t simply speak a few mystical sounding words and curse somepony else. To suggest there is a naturalistic affliction, on this scale, is absurd. It should be impossible!
There must be a source for this blight. If not a pony, maybe something else has triggered it, like the Tree of Harmony with the Elements of Harmony removed? I will get to the bottom of this blight if it’s the last thing I do. I will scour every magical record I have and comb through every magic item until I have something, anything, to solve this mystery!
For now, I will put Fluttershy and Rarity under a temporary sleeping spell. I refuse to believe they’re truly dead inside. At least if they’re asleep, they can’t hurt anypony else. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep them asleep, but if it at least slows the infection, it will be good enough.
Dear dier dairy Diary
The endless sunlight is wreaking havoc on my sleeping patterns. It’s only been two… three days, I think? It’s hard to tell. It’s all running together. I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep… for whatever that term is worth, anymore.
Apple… Applejack is helping to feed… keep everyone fed. She volunteered to do so, didn’t she? Or did I ask her? I don’t remember that, either. She’s an essential service to what remains of Ponyville.
I hadhave to keep going. Must keep looking. Ponyville, no, Equestria, depends on me. I’m there their last hope. I’ve searched… my books. Searched quite a few of them. Nothing. There are still some left. Maybe… I can find something in them? There has to be. There has to...
…LIGHT…
…BURNING…
…HOT…
…IS NOT…
…WILL NOT…
…BE FORGOTTEN…
D-dear d-diary…
I don’t remember writing that… last part. What’s happening to me? Did I fall asleep? Am I infected? I think I am. It’s gotten to me. A mirror, I must find a mirror to look at, to find out. Spike’s worried. Starlight has gone… gone to cater Canterlot to find Celestia. I won’t leave my castle until… until I know I’m safe. I can resist this. I’m the Princess of Friendship! I can’t fade away. Not now. I must stay awake. I need more coffee.
I need to solve this puzzle. The answers are tantetantalizingly close. I can do this; I know I can.
I know I must.
Light… what light? Whose light? Celestia’s? S-something else? Skiis skies are clear, no clods c-clouds. Have not been for days. So hot… so very hot. Title… must record, events. Must stay awake. So close. So very, very close. Close to… truth.
Must hold on. Will hold on. Spells… must find spells, magic, stop blight… Radiance, that name… it’s so familiar. Where is it from? What is Radiance? Spike… I love you, Spike. P-please… help me.
Quarantine… seal… seeled away, must seal away Ponyville… protect Equestria. I will be it… the vessel… to contain the blight. For-forever, never, no more spread, as long as it takes, seal away… Radiance… blight…. Who is it? What is Radiance?
Must warn… not to learn… hide…
….I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN…
…STRONG OF WILL, BOW BEFORE ME…
…DAWN WILL BREAK…
…LET ME BE FREE…
…THE LIGHT CANNOT BE CONSUMED…
The remaining journal entries were unreadable, devolving into a disjointed ramble of disconnected words scribbled in barely legible horn writing. Closing the book, Sunny let out a long, exasperated sigh and slid down across the sofa. She lay there in silence for several long minutes, trying to process everything she’d just read.
To think a pandemic could grow out of control so quickly, even with prompt quarantine action. As powerful as Princess Twilight was said to be, it was easy to forget she was just one pony. To be trapped at home, alone, while the world crumbles around you was a terrible prospect indeed. The cold morning breeze rustled against her fur, causing her already tense body to shiver.
Maybe I should try and get back to sleep, she thought, though she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She wanted to move, but her body wasn’t responding. Her limbs felt heavy, as if somepony had shackled a ball and chain to her limbs while she was reading. All she could do was lie there, staring blankly into space. Had Twilight’s story shaken her that badly? She supposed it was a lot to take in at once. Should’ve brought a blanket…
Peering out the window, she noticed that it was daytime already. Not just dawn, either, but full-on midsummer sunshine. How long had she been reading for? Had she been so invested that she didn’t notice the sunrise? She clasped her hooves over her face, rubbing her eyes. Maybe she’d fallen asleep some way through and had only just woken up?
Still, the mental itch remained. No matter how she spun it, she still couldn’t shake that strange sense of familiarity, gnawing away at her. Among all her father’s collected notes, she’d had to pick the one scary story among them to satiate her curiosity; and because of it, she was left with more questions than answers.
Once again, she glanced back at her family photo, but this time, something caught her eye. Ripping herself free from her paralysis, she leapt to her hooves in the blink of an eye. Before she knew it, she was galloping over to the photograph, pulling it off the wall in one swift motion.
And there it was, barely visible, but unmistakable. On the back of her father’s neck, she spied a tiny, peach-coloured cyst, exactly as Twilight had described it. All at once, the memories returned, cascading over her like water from a broken dam.
Argyle’s mental health deteriorated shortly after the photo had been taken. He started forgetting everything, from dinner to school runs, and even struggled to help her with basic homework. Soon, he became bedridden, barely able to stay awake long enough to tell her what was wrong.
Then came the noises, the furious banging of hooves on her locked bedroom door, cracking the doorframe bit by bit. For days on end, Sunny would hide under the bed covers, plugging her ears as she tried to drown out the strangled howls and mad ravings with her own, desperate sobs. She couldn’t go to school, couldn’t eat, couldn’t even use the bathroom, all from the fear of her father, Argyle Starshine, attacking her.
Staring at the photograph, her breath quickened, inhaling and exhaling in short, sharp bursts. Her cheek hurt, reflecting the pain from an injury long since healed. She remembered now. Her father had hit her, sometimes yelling in frustration as he sat hunched over his desk, pouring through an endless tide of notebooks.
He’d comforted her then, apologising profusely and swearing to never hurt her again. Not like her mother did. The same mother who died before Sunny was old enough to understand. She wanted to scream, but she could not. Her voice was gone, robbed from her by the same force that had robbed her of her energy just a minute earlier.
It all made sense now. Why the Unicorns were feared above all others. Why there was no more magic in Equestria. Why ponies feared each other. Sunny had forgotten—no—suppressed the bad memories of her father, selectively remembering the good times before his death. She hadn’t wanted to remember that side of him. Before he lost himself to madness, to the curse of the Radiance.
A loud bang made Sunny jolt backwards. Her heart hammered in her chest, adrenaline surging through her veins as her muscles contracted. Then it came again. Another thump, then another, then another.
Through the window, she saw her. Her first Unicorn friend, Izzy Moonbow, her eyes blank and throwing herself against the door.
“LIGHT... BURNING… HOT…”
Author's Note
I hope you enjoyed this Hollow Knight inspired story! I considered making this a full-on crossover, including the Grimm Troupe, but decided it was too complicated to complete in a single month. I may very well do a HK crossover story in future, though.
Want to support my works and potentially see second drafts early, among other benefits? Consider visiting my Patreon. Any support you can give is more than welcomed!
