The Lost Girls

Chapters

Chapter 1: What Went Wrong
Chapter 2: Washing Out of the Washouts
Chapter 3: Bittersweet Nostalgia
Chapter 4: Pony Island Mysteries
Chapter 5: How I Died
Chapter 6: Something is Different
Chapter 8: A Hunter's Resolve
Chapter 9: The ShadowBolts
Chapter 10: The Final Nightmare
Chapter 11: Enlightenment
Epilogue The Final Report
Prologue: Dear Princess Celestia
Chapter 7: The Price for Immortality

Chapter 1: What Went Wrong

“Another chocolate milk,” I demand irritably. “Extra cream and marshmallows.”

“Lady, don't you think you had enough?” the grizzled old earth pony barkeep asks me as he eyes me with his one good eye. The other eye likely got scratched out due to some earlier rough horsing no doubt.

He is a big pony, too. Not many other patrons in this bar, or any other for that matter, would have considered it wise to mess with this bartender. This pony obviously doesn't need to hire a bouncer. He is the bouncer. His spiked leather vest only added to the “I'm warning you, don't cross me” kind of motif that I have only seen matched by none other than the Diamond Dogs.

But, unfortunately for him, he is not addressing an ordinary pegasus anymore, and I am not in the mood to deal with any of his crap tonight!

All at once, before anypony in the bar could blink, I fly over the bar counter, snatch up the hulking earth pony and slam him hard against the wall behind him. Not only that, I nail him to that wall two feet off the ground and I did it with ease.

Despite my obviously supernaturally augmented strength and speed, I don't think that is what terrified him. No. If it were that alone, I think he would merely be stunned.

I think it is because, when he gets a good look in my eyes, he must have seen something there that warns him that his very life might be on the line. I really don't think he's accustomed to that. This pony can crush two heads together and make them explode like crushing watermelons if he wasn't careful, yet nothing he had ever seen paralyzed him with such terror as the look in my eyes.

And, quite frankly, I'm not accustomed to this either. Not yet, at any rate. Had I been thinking straighter, I might have had the wisdom to be more subtle in public about my new abilities, too, but right now I'm far beyond caring. If he won't give me my pony bucking chocolate milk, I'll take what I need from his very hide!

“I'm going to make this as clear as I possibly can right now,” I tell him in a low growl. “And be warned, I am not in the mood to be crossed. Give me . . . my chocolate milk . . . or I'll appease my hunger from something else of yours.” I fly up a bit to press my muzzle against his as I ask him, “Am I making myself clear, Sir?”

“Yes, Ma'am!” answers the terrified bartender. “Completely clear, Ma'am.”

“Good!” I tell him while I'm still pressed to his face like I'm about to kiss him, but I don’t. “You do that, then.”

At last, I let him down. I think the fact that what I have done didn't cause me to break a sweat is another reason he does.

But whatever. I am way beyond caring on this night. Nightmare Night too of all nights. The irony of that is almost hilarious.

I take my time flying over the bar and landing back in my seat. When I do, I notice something that I've only recently got accustomed to, and that is my new augmented sensations. Specifically, I can see and feel the energy of every pony in this bar. I can also smell their coat, their breath, their sweat. More than that, I both smell, see and feel their hearts race faster. They all know, on both instinctual and logical levels, that their very lives might be in danger too. Here I am, a pony who is obviously more than she seems, and I just demonstrated that I'm in a bad mood to boot.

I grimace and flinch as I feel the heartbeats of every pony in the room. I press my hooves into my face as I struggle against the hunger that is driving me crazy, especially as the taste of chocolate milk slowly dries from my tongue. In its place, my body longs for something else to replace it. Something old. Something primal.

What am I doing here? Coming here is like starving dogs coming to a barn full of sheep.

Then again, I guess caution has never been my strong suit. Never was, really. I was proud of it for the longest time.

Not so much anymore.

“Here you go, Ma'am,” the bartender says nervously as he delivers my new glass of chocolate milk to me but he ends up shaking it so hard in fright that he ends up spilling half the drink upon delivery. I look at the half empty cup before me then shift my eyes back up to him. As I do so, I swear I see his face flash red for a brief second. A light that probably came from the brief glow of my own predatory eyes.

“I'm sorry, Ma'am!” he cries out to me in terror. “Here. You keep that while I pour you another. Do you want cinnamon, or mint chocolate next time?”

I calm down as I think about it, then tell him, “I'll take cinnamon chocolate next time but with extra chocolate shavings.”

“Yes Ma'am!” he wails. He seems only too happy to leave my compony, if only for a moment.

I lift what should be a scalding hot drink and down it all before slamming the glass back down the counter with enough force to easily shatter it. I flinch slightly as a new waft of blood drifts to my nostrils. I glance down at my hooves and notice a tiny cut caused by the glass shattering which is just below my left hoof. But also, before my very eyes, that wound heals up in seconds. Not two seconds later I see I no longer have a scratch on me.

I still feel eyes upon my back. Feeling fed up with it, I spin about to face the rest of the bar as I cry out irritably, “What are you all staring at? Haven't you ever seen a pony drink chocolate milk before?” I use my elbows, and wings, to push away from the counter behind me as I lean forward and add, “Or perhaps you want me to show you something else?”

I leave that thinly veiled threat lingering in the air.

The message seems to be very clear. Most of the patrons start to look away and they do so very deliberately. They pretend to do whatever they were doing before, but I can still smell the tension in the air. I feel it pumping in my veins. It cries out for me to do something far more savage, but I fight it down with all that I have.

I really am not accustomed to resisting my impulses. That's probably why it's hitting me all the harder now.

But times have changed for me in more ways than one. As much as that pains me, it has forced me to adapt.

My message seems pretty clear. Before I turn about to face the counter, however, I notice one pony who seems out of place with the rest because, unlike every other pony in the bar, this one remains calm.

Too calm.

In fact, for a brief moment, I thought he was dead. Or undead, sort of like me.

But no. As I peer at him carefully, I observe that this pony is in an isolated corner of the bar. He wears a long trench coat and wide brim hat which conceals his face, especially since he is tilting the edge of his hat down a bit. I soon realize I can't distinguish much of anything about him, even with my newly augmented vampony eyes.

It takes me a while to realize that I do feel his heartbeat, but it is slow. Steady. Calm. He might be staring at my general direction, but without seeing his face, it is very hard to tell.

In fact, I cannot even tell what breed of pony he is until I finally see a bubble pipe float to his lips. The pipe itself is wrapped in a golden aura.

So he's a unicorn most likely. Glad I got that much established at least. His hat is hiding his horn, perhaps deliberately. I heard that can be as annoying to unicorns as wearing heavy gear is to a pegasus who wants to fly well. Some things just don't go together easily, but one still encounters exceptions on occasion.

As I stare at that mysterious pony, a very slight edge of nervousness creeps within me that I did not expect to feel tonight. After all, the level of cool I'm feeling from this pony feels professional to me.

There is an instinct that rings in my ears that my life might be in danger too. That would have stung more if I truly cared, but as it stands, I don't really mind if somepony kills me tonight. In fact, on some levels, I even welcome it. That's why the chill in my system feels only slight.

But again, whatever. If he's here to kill me, that's fine. It wouldn't be less than I deserve anyway right now for I am, indeed, a monster.

Once again, I start to turn back to face the bar but, along the way, something else catches my eye and, this time, it seizes it. In the opposite end to the only pony who remained calm here, I see a single stage built into the corner of this bar. On that stage there is a single stool, and lying next to that stool is a single acoustic guitar.

My eyes linger on it far more than I would have initially suspected. I'm honestly surprised at the degree of my interest in it.

As I muse on it further, it occurs to me I don't have much to lose or care about anymore, so why not press for this one last indulgence?

I almost considered asking for permission to use it, but again, I don't really care right now. I'm not in the mood to be polite, and besides, I'm impulsive. Same as always.

So, without another word to anypony, I slide off the stool I was sitting on and trot my way to the stage. I do so slowly and deliberately this time.

Very few ponies actually look at me, but I can still feel their attention linger on me. Even the calm one, or perhaps I should say especially the calm one. Most pretend to look elsewhere, but they probably steal a few glances at me.

Whatever. I'm beyond caring right now. I just make my way to the stage, step on, climb up to sit on the stool, then pick up the guitar. Initially I pick it up with my wings since it has a longer reach. Using that, I transfer the guitar from my wings to my hooves. When the transfer is complete, my gaze lingers on my wings as I adopt a musing expression at my mint colored feathered wings which are the same as the rest of my body with the exception of my mane and tail. That, instead, is a mix of stripes of bright gold and dark gold.

My eyes linger on my wings the most, for I know I can transform them if I give into my unnatural hunger without restraint. A bat pony, some call it.

I release a slow breath as I turn my attention back to the guitar. I hold the guitar against my chest. As I do so, I feel this act ground me somehow. Some semblance of desperately needed normalcy settles into me.

What I am . . . the cursed monster I have become . . . it's something that I never really knew about as a foal, but if I did, I probably would have pounced on it with far more recklessness than I have even in my adult years. Just the sheer idea of becoming both powerful and immortal, it is a far greater temptation than my younger self would ever require. She'd say, “Just sign me up!” She'd leap upon it and not look back.

I guess I was a Washout at heart even back then. It is ever the motto of The Washouts, “Leap before you look!”

Aye. I've done that many times by now. I lived my whole life with reckless abandon. Just throw all caution to the wind and simply fly as fast as I can. Fly so hard, so high, and so fast that the abrasion of the wind through my fur and wings is just something I grew accustomed to. I've even grown to think of it like the sky hugging me. It surrounds me with its presence as tangibly as it could, and I loved every second of it!

The speed! The thrill! The exhilaration! The danger! I loved it all.

Deep down, there was always something I've wondered about in my life. I desperately wanted to know what my true limits were. Sometimes I even wondered if I had limits at all. That's why I've been so reckless. It's because I am impatient to find out. It is a serious goal deep in my heart. I just had to know and I'm not going to let anything or anypony stand in my way!

Heck, even if they try to stand in my way, I can literally fly circles around them, give them the raspberry, then shoot off as fast as a blur. Only my lightning trail behind me would provide any hint that I was ever really there.

I could do all that even when I was a mortal pony. Who knows how fast I can fly now, but the one difference between now and then is I no longer care. I probably can fly much faster now, though notably only at night time. Despite these new and recent boons, it doesn't matter to me anymore because it feels like cheating. I can't feel as proud of myself when I have an unnatural advantage. If that were my only problem, I probably could've gotten used to it, but the real wrench in the cogwheels is the price I have to pay for that strength. I am immortal . . . as long as I keep killing for that strength. As long as I steal that strength. So, no matter what, my accomplishments can't be attributed to me alone anymore. It is ripped from others.

I have been reckless in my life and I've been reckless with others. That, to me, is almost fine, but a line is crossed when others become the deliberate target for execution. Intentional murder goes too far in my heart. I have never really been that cold before.

I lift my hooves across this guitar as I feel myself sink into a sort of trance. I move my hooves across each of the strings one by one to sort of test it. I listen to the reverberation of each note hanging in the air for a few seconds. I savor it.

Then I play.

As I play, my life replays before my eyes. It's not a flash, but it's not too slow either, nor is it complete. Just certain moments stand up before me. More important is the feeling I get behind each moment.

For instance, the time I applied for the Wonderbolts. The funny thing is, I never questioned it to be my destiny as I grew up. I knew I was way, way too good at flying to consider the fact that I'd fail the Academy. I knew they were the best of the best, but I was the best too. To me, the Wonderbolts stood as a symbol in my life which represented what I already knew about myself. I only joined them to receive that validation. To wear their uniform as an affirmation to myself and the rest of the world, “See? See?! I told you! I told you I was the best, and now I have the proof.”

For some reason, though, it never occurred to me that I'd meet my match until I got there, but Rainbow did impress me, and then I thought, “But ah! This is the Academy for the Wonderbolts. Where else could I go where I am more likely to find my equal?”

Maybe some part of me should have felt threatened by the fact that anypony came even close to being my equal, but at the time, I felt thrilled. I enjoyed the challenge and the knowledge that I no longer had to fly alone anymore. Rainbow was a kindred spirit. I knew that almost immediately. She knew that same thrill to fly in the sky that I always have.

Or so I thought. It soon became apparent we were flying on different wind currents after all. It turns out the thrill of flying was the only thing we could see eye to eye on. She had strict standards about everything else, especially safety, but to me? It kind of felt cowardly for somepony like that to say, “I won't cross this line no matter what.” To me, what it really sounded like is, “I'm not really interested in testing my limits to its maximum potential.”

Rainbow was always like that. This far and no further. That eventually made me realize that I hadn’t met my true equal after all.

It's not that I can't see things her way, though. Part of me can, especially the part about endangering others. Testing myself to my absolute limits is great, but I don't want to involve others if they don't wish to be involved. I really do think forcing others to be involved is morally wrong. That's why I used to prefer practicing in totally isolated areas, or at least as isolated as I was aware of. This was especially true for a few years after I got kicked out of the Academy. I said to myself, “Don't endanger others? Fine, then! I'll just go practice by myself, but that doesn't mean I'll hold back in any other way.”

Probably the only real “others” I endangered during those years were the giant eels in Ghastly Gorge. I practically dared them, taunted them even, by zipping by their holes so fast. I veered back and forth through that twisted Gorge. I almost wanted them to try to stop me. I'd probably shatter right through their teeth for their effort, although it was likely that I would fare no better. Crashing into things is an impact that goes both ways, and I'm usually softer than most other things I could potentially crash into. But still, wow! I sure would leave a mark behind.

That might be all that really matters to me. Wherever I go and whatever I do, leaving a mark behind is my truest goal. I want to cement my existence. To leave undeniable proof that I was there. I want to ensure that everypony would say, “Whoa! There goes Lightning Dust! She's easily the fastest and most talented pony who ever graced the skies.”

When I work to prove my worth, I'm not just doing it to impress myself. I'm not just doing it to challenge myself, I'm doing it so that I know others can't ignore me. At least, not when I want to be noticed. I'll admit there are times I might like to cry in some dark corner. Whenever I feel weak, that's when I like to disappear. However, if I am feeling strong and confident, that is when I'll stop at nothing to ensure my glory explodes for all to see.

That's what it means to be the best at something. It takes knowing that one is the best. To leave no doubt or room to question it.

The cruelest irony is, when I finally did become immortal and am all but totally indestructible, it came with a price that is too high for my soul to bear.

Challenging myself is fine. I live for it, but being a burden to others is a problem I quickly reach my limits on. I can tolerate it to some degree, especially if they volunteer to follow me, but forcing the burden truly is beyond me. I can't live with myself anymore if that becomes required for me to continue to live.

I had a good thing going with the rest of The Washouts. I truly did enjoy their compony, and they likewise felt the same. Even Short Fuse. As angry as he usually gets pretty much all the time, there was always this mutual respect we’d see when we looked into each other's eyes. The kind of look that says, “Yeah! You get me.”

After I “washed out” of the Wonderbolts (hence the name), I had given up on finding my own tribe. Before I knew it, however, I came to a bar, like this one, and listened to another pony brag about how she had washed out of the Wonderbolts too. More important than that was the fact that she was proud of what she had done. She knew what she stood for. She was thrilled to push her limits beyond the point of safety. Any pony willing to go that far truly understood that they wouldn't let anything hold them back in life. Just go for it. Push one's limits without any sense of restraint. To know there truly wasn't anything more one could give, and nothing else stood in the way significantly enough to matter.

When I heard his story, a light bulb suddenly went off in my head. At that moment I had another epiphany that only my cutie mark awakening could possibly compare to.

All at once, I finally knew, I found my tribe.

Thus The Washouts was formed. We thrilled crowds all across Equestria with our daring stunts. Even if we should die during our performance, at least we'd know we went out with a BANG. We have a whole crowd to witness our demise. Every single one of them would remember us and likely pass on the story. Our glory would live forever on. It was undeniable proof that we existed and that we mattered.

That was enough for us. We'd sit back and relax on a cloud knowing we had put in a good day's work. We pushed our limits and probably extended them too. As well, we impressed a crowd at the same time if it was a live performance.

Aye. That was the life for us. Tasting that danger and giving death itself a big old fat kiss on the lips then flying away and saying, “So long, Sucker! Perhaps next time you'll catch me. Who knows? But whatever the case may be, we shall always dance again, my all too familiar friend.”

But the thrill of dancing with death loses its charm when becoming both immortal and virtually unkillable. There was a reason all these things were exciting as a mortal. A game can only be fun if it's possible to lose.

I would have stuck with The Washouts to the very end as well if it weren't for other factors in my life.

I wince tightly as I sink into a deeper trance while unknowingly continuing to play my music.

Chapter 2: Washing Out of the Washouts

I crumpled the letter I just received and crushed it between my hoof and my forehead.

“Oy luv. What's eaten ya?” Rolling Thunder, the purple pegasus mare with mane and tail like a coiled cloud, asked me as she kicked up a wooden and iron ring reinforced bucket that was right beside me. When the bucket landed upside down, she plopped on it like a very short stool next to me. I could actually hear the wooden bucket creak slightly due to the sudden strain on it for just a second.

I loved this gal, and normally I'd love her compony too, but after the news I just received, having compony was the last thing I wanted.

I really hate being weak in front of others.

“Nothing,” I told her with a warning growl. As I said that, I kept my eyes firmly closed. I thought I could even feel a tear trailing down my cheek.

“Oy, nonsense,” Thunder rejected. “Any pony in their right mwoind can tell somethin' is eaten at ya, luv, an' Oy ain't even a pony normally in her right mwoind. Oy can tell ya that much for certain, luv. Aye.” she laughed at her own comment.

As I cracked my left eye open at her, I couldn’t help but crack a small grin at her, too. It was not just because of what she said but the way she said it. Rolling Thunder was one of those few ponies who was actually proud of how insane she was, for in her eyes, that also meant having fewer restraints.

“That's the spirit, luv,” she said with a wide grin as she gave me a gentle nudge with her right wing. Notably, a wing she shouldn't be moving around too much after her last accident. Frankly, I have lost count how many times she's been benched because of an injury to either her wing, hooves or both, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Quality over quantity was her philosophy in life. If you're going to live short, then at least live it well!

However, one of the reasons I was elected the official leader of The Washouts wasn't just because it was my initial idea. The other reason was I really am the best in the team and they knew it. I pushed myself just as hard as these numskulls but, unlike them, I didn't get injured nearly as often. I'm just too good to make as many mistakes.

Just then, I realized that the news I had for them would break their hearts just as much as it was breaking mine.

But I had to be honest with them. I owed them that much.

“I'm, ah . . . I'm leaving The Washouts,” I announced painfully.

Predictably enough, that news startled Rolling Thunder.

“Blimey! What's this on ab'ow, eh? Oy ain't ev'ah seen ya quit anything a day in yo' life.” She gave a neutral shrug as she added, “Getting kicked out? Yes, but Oy ain't ev'ah seen ya quit something on your own volition before, so what's the deal 'ere, mate?”

I shivered a little as I continued to cry.

“Blimey! Don't gemme that. Just out with it, luv. Ya'll feel roight bett'ah if ya do,” Thunder promised as she wrapped a wing around me. Again, it was her injured wing, but when had she ever let physical injury stop her from doing what she wanted to do?

“Believe me, I don't want to go,” I assured her before shaking my head. “But I can't ignore this. Not this time.”

Something had changed in her attitude. I could feel it. She grew more stiff than before because she finally noticed that she couldn't talk me out of this. This was one of those really serious life deal kind of things.

“Oy! What is it?” she eventually asked which broke the moment of silence. “Don't'cha owe ol' Thun'dah a bit o' an explanation?”

Once again, I cracked a grin and my eyes opened at her. After two seconds I nodded a bit.

“Aye. I suppose I do.” To that end, I hoofed her the crumpled letter. “But read this first.”

“Oy. Let's see what ya got there, mate.” She accepted the letter with a hoof, opened it, then proceeded to read it. As she did so, my heart sank since I knew how much this was going to hurt her.

I knew she was not very good at reading so it took her a little longer. Longer still, in fact, because she actually re-read it a couple of times.

“So, ah . . . ya younger sister got 'urt?” she figured as she looked back at me.

I nodded a bit as I said, “And there is nopony else that can take care of her anymore. Our parents died quite a while back.”

She grinned at me as she asked, “Is that why ya're such a wily firecrack'ah?”

Laughter exploded from me suddenly. If I had been drinking anything at that moment, it surely would have sprayed from my muzzle.

“Ya can't leave here, luv,” she went on to say a bit more softly. “This 'ere is yo' family too.”

“Agreed, but she needs me more,” I countered seriously.

She sighed as she looked at the letter again, then looked back at me as she asked, “It's really that bad, luv?”

I released a long breath as I sat up straight and put my head against the side of the tent behind us while I looked up. Specifically, I looked straight up to the sky.

“There are many reasons why I love flying so much,” I announced to her wistfully. “Part of it is me, but another part is my sister.”

“She got two pair o' wings on 'er back just as much, right luv?” Rolling Thunder checked.

I shrugged as I answered, “Yes, she does, for all the good it does her.”

Even out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rolling Thunder tilt her head questioningly, hoping for more elaboration on that point. While I did consider this news very personal and sensitive, it was also true that I felt like I owed her. So, despite how painful it was for me to admit this, I went on.

“My sister is born with kind of a crooked spine,” I told her with a frown. “It is bad enough to keep her from using her wings properly.” I turned my head to look at her as I added, “Well, for flying, at least. She can use the limbs for other basic stuff like grasping things, but clearly not as easily as other pegasi.”

“Oh.” It actually pained me to see some light dim in old Thunder's eyes. A depression sunk into her due to how serious this news was.

“Sweet Charity has never known what it is like to fly,” I told her gravely. “One of the very things that matters to me the most in my life is a pleasure she could never share.” My eyes started to mist as I continued. “What makes it feel worse is she loved me for it. She loved to watch me fly. She loved how much it made me happy, but little did she realize how guilty I felt at the same time. She stared up at me like a fan. My first true admirer.”

Rolling Thunder looked down, along with a nod, before she said, “Oy can somewhat relate. Oy 'ave five broth'ahs and sist'ahs. Oy was the second oldest. Oy 'ad tah take care of some of 'em, Oy rightly sure did. They, too, admired moi flying skills from af’ah. Ain't none of them ‘ad some kind o' injury tah keep ‘em outta tha air, but it was clear they couldn't keep up wit’ me neithe'ah.” She looked back at me. “So Oy ain't totally alone in tha sky unless Oy pushed meself to moi best. Then Oy was alone.”

I nodded with a frown as I said, “Lonely at the top sometimes . . . isn't it?”

She nodded and said, “Aye . . . till Oy found ya 'n good ol' Fuse.”

I sighed before I said, “Well, you read the letter. Charity's spine has gotten worse. Now she can't even trot anymore. She's stuck in a wheelchair.”

She looked down and dropped her shoulders as she said, “Aye.” Then she looked back at me with sad acceptance as she hoofed me the letter back and said, “Family is family. Go to 'er. Oy'll explain ya situation tah Fuse.”

I tilted my head to my left and eyed her off the top of the left side of my head as I warned her, “He'll chew your ear off, you know.”

“Can't be worse than what ya're feeling,” she replied. She nudged me with her right wing again. “Go tah her. Oy'll rightly hold down tha fort till if and when ya get back, mate.”

I sighed again as I completely leaned over and rested my head on her right shoulder which was a level of vulnerability I normally never show anypony. I trusted her that much.

“Thanks, Thunder,” I told her with the glow of gratitude in my voice. “You're the best.”

She hugged me from the side as she said, “Ain't that rightly tha truth.”

Chapter 3: Bittersweet Nostalgia

I absently lay my head against the head of the guitar while the guitar's neck rests on my left shoulder. During this time I cease playing for a moment as I feel a wave of . . . I can almost describe it like dizziness, but it's more accurate to say intense apathy. I just feel too depressed to care about doing anything, yet something tugs at my heartstrings and compels me to move forward, at least inwardly. It feels like a long shot, but if I mentally go over each phase of my downfall, maybe I can more accurately pinpoint what went wrong? Better yet, if there is something I can do to make things better?

I release a long, painful sigh then lift my head up again, though I still keep my eyes closed. I resume playing the guitar. As I do so, I dwell on what happened to me next.

Well . . . I guess the next phase of my life is obvious. After receiving the letter about my younger sister's degenerating condition, I went home.

The only positive thing I can say about my experience of returning home was largely two things. One, nostalgia, and two, seeing my young sister again, although the latter was quite a bittersweet experience.

In fact, that basically summed up my entire emotional experience upon returning home; bittersweet. It was nice to see my old stomping grounds, but it also made me recall why I felt so bitter about it. We were one of those pegasi who lived on the ground. I always resented that fact ever since we moved there. I actually remember growing up during the early part of my youth secretly resenting my younger sister because I blamed her for us living on the ground because of her physical disabilities.

The farmhouse was in some disarray and disrepair when I got back. It didn't exactly feel welcoming, but I understood why it was that way. Cleaning up the whole place was something my little sister hardly could ever do. Now that our folks passed away and Sweet got even worse, this only made sense.

As I trotted into the farm and looked around, all I could feel was the fact that all of this was a reminder of my failure. I was once proud to fly away from this place and strike it out on my own, and I did a very good job of that too. Sure, I drifted from job to job for quite some time but I still made it on my own. I was out there . . . flying. I was especially proud of myself when I landed in a position of the Wonderbolt recruits. I never doubted that I'd get there before that point. It was only a question as to when it would happen. When I was kicked out, I had no back up plan except this; returning here, to this farm, was my absolute last resort. I knew that safety net was always there, but considering how liberating it felt when I first left this place, I simply knew I'd feel like a failure if I was ever forced to return home.

But there I was, right back where I started and pulled there under circumstances I hadn't even considered before. I returned there not for the sake of my own failures, but somepony else's. My rational side told me there was no pony to blame here. There were only victims here, not aggressors, but my emotions insisted there needed to be a target for all of my frustration and rage. It was just too strong to disappear on its own.

Sweet Charity didn't change too much. Not beyond the point of recognition. She still was that same small yellow pony with brown, unkept mane and tail because my sister never saw a point in trying to make herself look good. She figured no pony would romantically want her anyway. On the other hoof, she was a bit more chubby since the last time I saw her, especially in the cheek area.

Beyond all of that, though, the wheelchair she was in and the large, round, nerdy-looking glasses that visibly magnified her eyes were all new, but I expected all of this because of the letters I received over the years. The wheelchair was the newest addition, and as for the glasses? She got that several years ago because she read and wrote a great deal. Sweet Charity was a fiction romance author and poet.

I really didn't want to lash out at her for causing all of this, so I mostly didn't. Instead, I was more distant, cold, and silent, but not totally. I tried to not make it obvious. For example, I responded to her and answered her questions, but my responses were short and I refused to look her in the eyes, at least for a while. I acknowledged her. That was pretty much it at first.

I recall that, once I got inside the farmhouse, I flew up to this high perch I often took when I used to live there. It was a sideways oval window with iron bars over it that kind of looked like an eye. This was one of two windows that looked like this. So, from the outside of the house, it looked like the house gazed out at anypony on the forward end of it. Once, in my foal's eyes, I used to be convinced that the house's gaze would always follow me wherever I went.

As I sat up there at that windowsill, I rested with my back and wings against one side of the oval curve as best I could, but I distinctly remember being a better fit up there in my youth. I gazed out the window, too. I liked the higher perspective I had up here. Here and on the roof of the house too. Those were my favorite spots in this house.

Down below, my sister took up what was our mother's office. It still had some bookshelves full of books in there, but now they were my sister's. More power to her. Sis always followed closer to our mother's hoof steps anyway.

Not to say I was closer to our father instead. Honestly, no pony in our family followed the path that I did, but that was not a unique situation in various families in Equestria. Cutie mark destinies could be all over the place.

“I heard about your career among The Washouts,” I recall my sister bringing up in the hopes to bring some conversation between us which was precisely what I didn't want. She sat in her wheelchair in the office as she gazed up at me while I sat by that windowsill near the roof.

“Mmm-hmm,” I absently agreed while I continued to gaze out the window. As I did, I had one hoof in the coat pocket of my black leather jacket which had one inch steel spikes over the shoulders of the jacket.

“That sounds so exciting!” my sister went on. “I collected a lot of your various posters and logos as well as newspaper clippings. You looked so good in that outfit, Sis. It was very sharp.”

“Glad you approve,” I told her absently.

“I heard it was a very dangerous sport, though,” my sister added.

I grind my teeth and pressed the hoof that was in my coat pocket harder which caused the leather to creak. I told her as calmly as I could, “That's the point of the sport.”

“I, ah . . . guess that's why it was so exciting, huh?” my sister asked me in a reserved way. “I remember how much you liked to be daring. That kind of sport seems right up your alley.”

I said nothing to that comment.

“You must have really enjoyed it, huh?” my sister figured aloud.

Again, I said nothing. I just continued to stare out the window.

However, what happened next I did not ignore. In fact, I finally whipped my head to look at her when I heard her start whimpering.

“I'm so sorry to be a burden to you!” my little sister wailed as she wiped her hooves under her giant, nerdy glasses.

After what she said and the way she said it, I immediately glided down to her from the upper windowsill then embraced her in a hug with both my forelegs and wings. As I did so, I downright lied to her when I said, “No! You're not a burden to me.”

“Then why can't you look me in the eyes?” my sister continued to wail.

I was taken aback by that comment. I soon realized that she was too smart to fall for my tricks. Family tends to know a pony the best anyway. The truth was I didn't want to look her in the eyes because I didn't want her to see that she spoke the absolute, or rather mostly, truth. She was a burden to me. She was holding me back!

But not purposely, and I knew none of this was her fault. My emotions wanted to blame her for this because of its sheer intensity but my rational side reigned in that impulse.

Since she caught me, I thought fast to explain the situation to her in a way that's both honest and comforting. Eventually I said, “Okay, you caught me. I absolutely am disappointed with these turn of events, but I'll tell you something else that is the truth.

“Charity, look at me,” I insisted before I continued. I waited for her to respond. For the first time in years, we locked eyes onto each other. At that point I went on to say, “It is true that I am bummed out by how things turned out, but I would be even more disappointed with myself if I did nothing in your time of need. I need you to know, Charity, that whatever we have to face together . . . you're worth it. How many sisters do I have anyway in this world?”

Charity sniffed before she answered, “Just one.”

“Right,” I told her. “So that means I have only one target for all of my affection. One pony with whom I need to tend. One pony who helps me to feel fulfilled.

“I did give up a lot. I'll admit that, but look. I'm still here. Guess what that means when it comes to my priorities?”

For that comment, my sister smiled at me happily before leaning forward to hug me again. I gladly returned that affection.

Chapter 4: Pony Island Mysteries

Here I was on Pony Island fairgrounds of the coast of Manehatten. I came there to blow off some steam and, quite frankly, to get away from the house. I didn't really come there with much of a plan. Like everything else in my life, my direction was usually aimless and unfocused.

I just hated it in my house at the time. I hated how angry I felt and so guilty at the same time. Why was so much resentment building in my system for a pony I loved and I didn't really want to hurt? Every ounce of that hate was also pain. To even imagine hurting her in my mind hurts my soul even more.

So I came to the fairgrounds looking for an outlet for my rage, but again, I also hated the fact I was surrounded by so many innocent ponies who hadn't done anything against me.

But then I sat corrected because I soon noticed that there were a few other species out there and their numbers seemed to be growing over the years. It wasn’t just ponies in Equestria anymore.

Um . . . that's cool, I guess. More variety, I suppose.

As irrational as it was for me back then, I had actually wished somepony around me was guilty of being a jerk. I wanted some excuse to vent all the anger I had, but I also needed it to feel justified. Something like a mugger would do.

But no. That's not what happened. Instead, I saw just the opposite. It was as if life was taunting me because some of the things I saw were happy fathers buying cotton candy for their kids which they proceeded to eat gleefully. I saw excited kids hopping up and down and pointing eagerly to the ride they wanted to go on next. Maybe the most guilty looking ponies back then were the carnies themselves who were hawking their wares with potentially shady deals, but I can't fault them for trying their best to support their business. Any reasonable shopkeeper usually knows the fine art of haggling at the very least.

I even saw a few cops who strolled about while semi-playfully twirling a baton on a leather string with a hoof and also chewed bubble gum casually. Despite their apparently casual attitude, they also still seemed alert for danger just in case. I could see, based on the expression on their faces, that they did not really expect any serious trouble but they remained vigilant nonetheless since it was their job to be so.

In other words, they were an additional reason why I was unlikely to find the trouble I secretly sought unless I became the criminal myself.

While my urge to destroy something was intense, it was not really the reason I came here. Pony Island was more like a backup plan. A place I might have fun instead to distract myself from all of this internal rage within me.

I liked the energy and excitement of that place. That constant movement that surrounded me. It was electric. I found myself somewhat distracted with the rides, the shows, the games, the music in the air as well as the smell of food. I was even partial to some things that most would consider to be annoying such as the long lines to the food stands, rides, or the bathrooms. To me, it always felt par for the course in a place like that. It was simply more evidence to prove to myself that I was, indeed, at a theme park like that. I always accepted that as natural.

When night time eventually came, I felt somewhat displaced from the park. It was like all this fun stuff was around me and I could observe it, but I was not really a part of it. I was just a background pony there. It felt like watching a movie of being in the carnival rather than actually being there. There was a sort of dissonance I couldn't really explain, nor did I really wish to. I'm not no stupid shrink.

It was sort of like eating food but my tongue was numb which subsequently left everything tasting stale.

I recall sprawling on a park bench with my forelegs in the sleeves of my black leather jacket which then rested across the top and back of the bench. I was looking over the bench's head at the wide rippling water behind me. The water glowed in the moonlight. From that perspective, I was looking at the water upside down while the rest of the carnival, and all of its excitement, was ahead of me. While I sat there, I briefly panicked at the thought that I somehow lost my ability to be happy. That I could be in a place like this and it still felt colorless and stale. All the screams of excitement and laughter felt hollow to me. Just empty of meaning and that somehow made all of it seem quieter.

I didn't know what to do. I had all that turbulent energy inside me and I had no outlet for it. On top of that, I saw no solution for the source of my problem. I'm the kind of pony who absolutely needed to fly high and fast, and yet it felt like an iron ball and chain had recently tethered me to the ground. If I flew hard enough, I realized I technically could still take off from the ground, but clearly at a vastly debilitated rate.

And whose fault was that? Nopony! It just happened. It was why life sucked!

Worst of all was knowing I could no longer afford to be reckless anymore because, if I got hurt, I could no longer take care of a pony who really depended on me, and I couldn't just ignore her either. She's my sister. I always loved her despite her being such a pain in my flank.

All of my life, I used to be proud of all of my strengths and talents, but recently all of those advantages had become a burden. I hated feeling that way because I knew it was nopony's fault.

But it could have been worse, I suppose. If I was weak in addition to her then where would we be? As things stood, at least one of us was prepared to do what was needed.

All of this felt like life was clipping my wings. I felt like I must have been doomed to spend the rest of my days looking up and wishing I could go there.

I sighed in frustration as I leaned forward on the bench. I pressed my hooves into my face. I rubbed my face for a few seconds before taking another look around me to see if there was anything around me that was worth my attention. Something to distract me from my inner turmoil.

It was such a surreal feeling, though, to get my wish a moment later. When I looked about me, I eventually spotted something pretty creepy that did, indeed, nab my attention.

It was a clown pony who was wearing a mismatched collage of colors. The pony was also wearing large, red, goofy-looking shoes. One of the clown's hooves, which was pressed to the ground, was also holding onto the string of a single red balloon. The clown's face stood out the most because it was overly large and obviously fake. It had a white poofy face and an orange mane that was off to the sides of its large dome head but it was bald at the top. Its chin was rounded but it also jutted out a bit like a slight crescent moon shape. The mouth was permanently hung open into a wide, creepy looking smile which showed many rows of tall white teeth. The forehead was scrunched up into a series of straight line wrinkles. The cheeks were puffed out to a cartoonish degree and were also orange. The clown's lips were very red and thick. Its eyes looked overly large like some kind of insane predator.

Quite frankly, it didn't really look like a pony. It seemed more like a scary and hostile alien with a frozen face who was making a pathetic attempt to disguise itself as a pony. I found myself thinking that it could pass off as a really good costume for Nightmare Night which indeed would come about just a few days later. Instead of that, though, my actual impression was that it was a creepy park mascot.

The thing that really creeped me out, at the time, was the fact that it was just staring at me, frozen. Movement of many different kinds was occurring all around the clown, but it was just staring silently at me like it was frozen in time and it just happened to be facing my direction when it froze. Despite that, I could feel its attention burning on my hide, and in that case, it didn't feel good.

I noticed, too, that no pony else was paying the clown any attention. They just roamed around it as if the clown was invisible, or perhaps they were subconsciously trying to ignore it. It was as if the clown was actually a ghost that only I could see.

I had quickly decided that I had enough of creepy town for that night. It was time for this little pony to mosey on.

And so I did. I got off the bench and strolled away. For quite a while I struggled not to look back at the clown because I didn't want to seem like I was deliberately trying to avoid it.

However, as I continued, I felt like its attention remained on my back.

Eventually, before I rounded a corner to a pathway between many tents, I looked back at it with my right eye only which peered just over the edge of my metal spiked right shoulder. When I did, I saw that only one thing had changed about the clown. It was still standing in the exact same spot I had observed it before, like a frozen statue, but it had turned its entire body, not just its head, to face my new direction while I wasn't looking at it. From there, it continued to give me its burning stare with its gleefully mad eyes.

I shuddered despite myself then resumed my trek.

Wow! I had to hoof it to the carnies. That's certainly one form of entertainment.

In an attempt to calm myself down, I casually looked at the various tents and activities around me as I strolled down the new path. This section of the fairgrounds seemed dedicated to mostly merchandising of either goods or services. Mostly it was goods. I saw a shop dedicated to scented candles. I saw another shop dedicated to selling crystals and glass sculptures. Some of them might have even been enchanted crystals from the looks of them. Another shop sold various wooden products, another dedicated to clothing, another dedicated to selling musical records. The whole nine yards.

One shop, in particular, caught my eye. I saw that it sold all kinds of posters. Most of those posters were dedicated to fictional characters, but some of them were not. Of those that were not fictional, what interested me the most was a poster dedicated to The Washouts. When I saw it, I couldn't help but crack a smile a bit even as a pang of pain stabbed into my heart at the same time.

Then, a moment later, something else really caught my eye. I saw a young red earth pony colt, with a messy light brown mane, actually buy one of The Washout posters with gleeful excitement. When I saw that, my smile deepened much further. It also drove me into a spur of the moment decision.

I actually approached this foal.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look! The Washouts. Isn't it cool?” the young colt asked his light blue father excitedly.

“Yes, Son,” the boy's father acknowledged. “It's very cool. That's why I bought it for ya.”

“So . . . you like The Washouts, kid?” I asked as I approached these two with a playful grin on my face. The moment I spoke, the father looked over at me with a slight edge of caution in his eyes as if checking to make sure that the stranger that approached them wasn't there to endanger his son. However, when he saw who I was, his eyes exploded widely and his jaw dropped as much as it could. At that point he openly gawked at me.

His son, however, was too distracted with looking at his new prize to notice my approach.

“Yes Ma'am!” the colt said excitedly as he continued to eye his new poster. “The Washouts are the coolest fliers ever! Way cooler than those Wonderbolts! They literally laugh at danger as they go 'woosh' and then they go 'zoom' through, like, a dozen electric loops and such which also wave back and forth. Then they fly way super high only to dive bomb and 'ka-blam' into this giant pool of water full of blood thirsty sharks.”

“Um, Son,” the stunned father said as he tapped his boy a bit frantically. “You may want to turn around and look at this mare.”

“In a minute, Dad,” the son objected. “I want to continue looking at this poster. It's so awesome!”

“Son, I really think you should see this,” the boy's father insisted.

“I'd be paying attention to ya fath'ah if I were you, mon,” said the dark brown shopkeeper pony wearing a rainbow beanie hat on top of his dreadlocks mane. He also wore red tinted sunglasses over his eyes despite it being night time. This was the original shopkeeper that sold the boy the poster. He had an excited grin, but so far held his composure the best among the three.

With a groan, the boy lowered his poster as he gazed at the shopkeeper and asked, “Whaaaaat?” with a bit of annoyance. He then looked up at his father, got caught off guard by his father's expression, then followed his father's gaze to the pony in question. Once he saw me, he gave a gasp of shock, but he was also the next one who spoke. Apparently the pipsqueak recovered fast. I was a bit impressed by that.

“Ya . . . ya . . . you . . . you're the . . . you're the leader of the . . .” the boy stuttered in his excitement.

“Nice to meet a fan,” I said with a wide and genuine happy grin.

“You're LIGHTNING DUST!!!” the boy exclaimed aloud.

I winked at the colt playfully and happily then looked at the shopkeeper as I asked him, “Got a pen I can borrow?”

“Sure, Mon,” the shopkeeper said gladly. “Only, if ya don't mind, can ya sign two more of yee post'ahs? One for meself, for me private collection of course, and anoth'ah to be a sellin, Mon.” He nodded at me. “After all, signed post'ah from yee be worth a higher price, and I be havin' mouths tah feed, if ya know wha' I be sayin'.”

I nodded gladly as I told him, “You got a deal!”

“Far out, Mon!” the shopkeeper exclaimed cheerfully as he leaned forward in his seat and fished for a quill and ink. He didn't have to look far. This shop was dedicated to fans, after all. “This be a night of good mojo, Mon.”

Since I couldn't completely agree with that last statement, I just grinned instead. But, I had to admit, this encounter truly did lift my spirits a bit.

Once I received the pen, I put it in my mouth then bent over to sign three of The Washout posters. Two for the shopkeeper and one more for my adorable little fan.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH!!” the boy practically screamed at me so loudly that he actually hurt my ears and made them twitch. My face also flinched.

“I'm sorry,” the father apologized after he saw my reaction. He finally seemed to have calmed down a bit, too. “He's just so excited to meet you, and as for me? I'm grateful that you took this time to sign my son's new poster. The other foals at school are going to be so jealous of him now.”

“Look, father! Look what it says!” the boy cried out excitedly as he showed his father. “'To one of my adoring little fans, rock on, little pony! Always remember; leap before you look!' Isn't this cool, Dad?”

“Uh . . . heh-heh.” The father actually appeared a little nervous at the wording I wrote. I could think of one reason why, but I also knew that any true fan of mine would take that one to heart in one way or another.

“Keep being awesome, little man,” I told the boy proudly as I reached down and ruffled his already shaggy mane a bit further. After that, I glanced past the both of them and noticed something that widened my eyes a bit and froze my blood.

The creepy clown pony was back. This time it was standing at the end of this pathway just around the previous corner. Once again, it was not moving. It was just staring in my direction with its whole body.

Eventually I also noticed one other detail that both confused me and chilled me even further. The clown still had one single red balloon, but the shape had changed since I last saw it. At that point the balloon looked like a shiny red heart symbol.

Other than that, nothing had changed. It was so eerie to think that the clown only seemed to move whenever I didn't look in its direction, and it seemed especially interested in me in particular for some reason.

“Well, I can't thank you enough for making my little boy happy!” the father said to me very gratefully as he offered me a hoof.

“Huh?” I asked as I looked back at him and shook my head a bit to clear it. I then looked down at his hoof and realized he offered a hoofshake. I proceeded to politely offer my hoof back and said, “Oh, that. Think nothing of it. It's my pleasure.”

However, while I shook his hoof, I also cautiously eyed the creepy clown over his shoulder nervously.

“I mean it, Ma'am,” the father went on. “This means the world to my son, so it means the world to me, too.”

“And it's my birthday today!” the boy cheered. “That's why my father took me to Pony Island today.”

“Oh really?” the shopkeeper asked with pleasant cheer. “Well happy birthday, Mon! How old do ya be here today?”

“Ten,” the colt answered immediately.

“Double digits! Nice!” the shopkeeper cheered with a pleasant nod. “Very nice. That be good mojo, Mon.”

“YIPPY!” the boy cheered with a cry of excitement.

“Kind of like a right of passage, in a way,” the father adds with a grin. “Get used to it, too. You won't see triple digits for quite some time.”

By that point, other ponies in the vicinity started to catch on that they, too, were standing among a potential celebrity, but I did not see recognition in most of their faces yet. It was more like excited curiosity.

Meanwhile, that clown just continued to stare at me down the street, unblinkiing and unmoving.

“Um, well, it was a pleasure meeting you all,” I told my fans as I started to back off. “Always a pleasure to meet the fans.”

“Likewise,” the father returned evenly. “Thank you again, Ma'am.”

“YEAH!” the boy cheered loudly enough to make my ears flick again.

“Peace be wit' you, Mon,” the shopkeeper added to me. “May soaring winds ev'ah be beneath ya wings.”

“Thank you,” I accepted with a gracious nod then glanced back nervously at the clown one more time. After that, I made my way down the street at a more hurried pace this time. By then I had a new plan. If it seemed like I was being followed, then I had a special way to make it a bit more challenging.

It was time for me to “up” the ante.

I didn't look over my shoulder at the clown as I proceeded down this busy street, but I shuddered to think about how this clown always seemed to keep moving whenever I didn't look at it. I even gained this utterly irrational fear that it might even be capable of moving at sudden and explosive super speed whenever I wasn't looking at it despite all the obstacles in its path on this busy street. It actually felt like it might be right behind me and about to grab me but it would freeze at the last second if I turned to look at it.

But no. I squashed that irrational fear down and kept on moving.

When I rounded the next corner, I took advantage of what my race was most iconic for, our ability to make truly 3D movement. I hopped into the air then soared over a building to my left, but I did so from a very low altitude because I didn't want to be spotted. In fact, I glided mere inches over the building and landed at the edge of it to give a quick scan of what was beyond. From that vantage point, I noticed that this new area was mostly vacant because it didn't look designed for the public. Instead, only employees of the park seemed welcome in this new area.

I swallowed a big gulp as I thought about this. If I get attacked here, there would be no other witness to stop it or help me. However, that was true the other way around as well. If I attacked this pursuer, no pony else would rescue it, either, and I was itching for a good fight all night!

Besides, a vacated area also meant no pony else was in danger. There shall be no other hostages that could be used against me. It was just it . . . and me!

If the clown wished to chase after me, I couldn't say I was entirely a big fan of that, but if it chose to change it's target to, say, that little boy I met earlier and it still had hostile intentions, then I'm much less okay with that scenario because at least I could defend myself. I am a strong pony and, if things get too hairy, I could always fly away and at super speed at that. Even if my pursuer happened to be another pegasus, I could probably literally fly rings around it. No pony in the world, that I knew of, could possibly keep up with me other than the “legendary” and “heroic” Rainbow Dash.

It was time for the hunter to become the hunted!

Feeling resolved, I flipped over the edge of the building I was crouching on then landed on the other side with a heroic pound to the ground. Initially I was looking down when I landed, but then I proceeded to scan my surroundings once again. It was then that I noticed a detail I overlooked before. There was a creepy carnival music playing somewhere close by from this new position, most likely from a carnival carousel. While that, in itself, probably didn't endanger me per se, I couldn't help but get this irrational instinct that it gave this clown some psychological advantage.

But whatever. I don't shrug from a challenge. Instead of that, I always say bring it on!

I trotted very steadily away from the wall that was behind me. As I did so, I kept carefully scanning my surroundings. I watched for the clown itself and also listened for any sign of movement such as a shuffle of hooves, the sound of flapping wings, or perhaps even a magical popping sound indicative of unicorn teleportation. If this wasn't a true ghost I was facing or some kind of magical illusion, then it should have some logical means of movement. Whatever that method was, there should be something noticeable about it. Since I was in a quieter area of the park aside from the creepy carnival music, it should help me pick up on the more subtle details of my pursuer.

As I continued to wait, I felt the tension rise in my veins. It made my heart noticeably pound louder and harder. I dwelt on the fact that I wished I knew martial arts. Still, I'm not entirely inept with street boxing and I had a few other tricks up my sleeve that capitalized on my specific racial advantages. I had to keep them in mind and remain calm.

After a while I finally did hear something that was out of place. I heard . . . laughter? It was almost maniacal laughter, but something was off about it. Something that made it sound artificial. There was a slight crackling sound in the laughter like it was being played from a spotty record player. Add to that, there was a slight metallic echo to it like the sound was being played from a metal loudspeaker.

Other than all of that, I couldn't pinpoint its exact position just yet because the sound was bouncing off the walls around me. Another scan revealed the clown wasn't visible yet.

Until it was. I spotted it off the corner of my eye first before I fully turned to look at it. Like before, it seemed incapable of moving whenever I looked at it. Also, like last time, another detail had changed about it, and that was the balloon. Or rather, in this case, it was holding a dozen balloons. Enough to slightly conceal its face this time since some of the balloons hung low enough over the upper right corner of its overly large, painted-white head.

When I locked my eyes on it and narrowed them slightly, it finally moved before my eyes in the very first way I ever saw it do, and that was to tilt its head at me slightly.

I had enough of this!

I spread my wings behind me then shot forward with a powerful flap. A sonic boom exploded from the ground behind me as I launched myself at the clown fast enough to blur which only a trail of lightning visibly signified. I crashed myself into the clown using myself as a living projectile. From there, I nailed it to the wall and flew a few feet off the ground to make sure it had no leverage to use against me anymore.

“Alright, clown! Why are you following me?” I demanded to know as I pressed my right forehoof into its neck, threatening to crush it if it didn't comply while also pinning it to the wall. “What's your deal?” I narrowed my eyes further except, this time, there was a small glint of excitement. “Do you want a fight?!” I offered aggressively and a bit hopefully.

Since I was that close, I could definitely tell that the sound of the laughter was coming from somewhere inside this clown suit, but not from the pony who was wearing it. So far, I couldn't even tell this pony's sex or breed was, but I could, at least, tell that some corporeal pony was inside. Inwardly, I felt a bit of relief over that fact. If this had turned out to be a true ghost, my courage in that situation would suddenly flip on its head.

“Leap before one looks, eh?” asked a feminine and somewhat seductive sounding voice from somewhere behind me. I was caught off guard by that fact because I had carefully scanned that area very recently. No pony else was here!

Well, apparently, there was one more at that point.

After I pressed the clown's neck to the wall harder as a firm warning, I then looked over my left shoulder to behold the new pony who graced our compony. This pony was a little tall, as in long legged, pegasus mare. She had a very dark gray coat and a totally black mane and tail which the light around her seemed to sink into as if her mane was a black void except for one detail; there were a lot of silver glitter sparkles in her mane and tail as if they were sort of stars. This cosmetic detail was also on her black lipstick, black eye-shadow, black hoof polish, and in her thin, black, and almost translucent dress. Her mane and tail was the opposite of poofy. It was very flat on her head, but it was also long and flowing. Her hair looked like it didn't ever need to be brushed. It was more like a black waterfall ever flowing down her head.

“You wear your moniker well, Miss Dust,” the mysterious mare commended me with a graceful nod.

“Who are you?” I demanded to know.

“A simple carney,” the mare answered smoothly. “Just like my associate you have pinned to the wall.” A moment later, she appeared to rethink her earlier statement then decided to amend, “Well, perhaps 'simple' is an 'oversimplification' here.” She gave a soft, sultry giggle at her own statement for some reason.

“Really?” I lifted a skeptical eyebrow then passed that look to the pony in the clown costume that I still had nailed to the wall. “So you both work here at this carnival?”

“Indeed,” the mare behind me answered simply.

“Well . . . that still doesn't answer two questions,” I went on as I narrowed my eyes at my prisoner. “One, your names. Two, why was I being followed? Rather creepily, I might add.”

“A simple request. One I will gladly acquiesce,” said the mysterious and elegant mare behind me. “My name is Demise, and the one you have pinned to the wall is Moonlight. Her identical twin sister should be prowling about the park in a similar costume to that one. Her name is Shadow.” Demise took a quick breath then released it before she went on. “As for why we have been following you, well; let's just say your reputation precedes you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I half turned my head over my left spiky shoulder at Demise. “Also, your name is really Demise? Really? Boy, your parents must have hated you. I can't wait to see your cutie mark. What is it? A skull?”

“Actually, Demise is a name I've chosen for myself,” Demise informed me smoothly, clearly brushing off any indignity I intended. “My birth name was something else entirely.” She gave a pleasant sigh before she added mysteriously, “Another name for another life.”

Huh. That actually chilled me more. If this mare wanted to rename herself with something that associated herself with death, I probably didn't want to know the reason. So, at the time, my questions on that point stopped there.

As for the other point she made, I had a theory, but I double checked by asking, “What do you mean by my reputation precedes me?”

“It's starting to become clear to me that you don't recall working in this park before,” Demise observed.

“I have?” I asked in confusion.

“Yes, you had, albeit briefly. You put on a Washout show right here on Pony Island,” Demise explained. She nodded to me as she elaborated, “So my colleague and I were interested to catch up with a former fellow entertainer of this park.”

“Huh,” I said aloud as I thought back.

Honestly, I couldn't recall if this was really true, and that did surprise me a little if it turned out to be true. Because my former gang and I have performed in many places all across Equestria, it could blur together a little over time. Pony Island happened to be one of my favorite spots, though. If I performed here along with my former gang, it surprised me that I forgot that fact so completely.

But it was a feasible explanation. I actually knew the park managers here would love for The Washouts to put on a show for their guests. All the better to draw in more customers, of course. There was no doubt in my mind that the wealthy managers of this park could have paid for that service in other ways that would have interested me at the time, too.

Wow! Did I really work there once? Why couldn't I remember if it was true?

As I continued to think about this, a new theory came up that I decided to test.

“Okay, so wait.” I shook my head briefly. “If the two of you came to me because of my previous performance as a member and former leader of The Washouts, does that mean you're trying to entice me into making another performance for this park?”

“Former leader?” the astute mare behind me echoed. “Has the leadership of the group changed? Or are you no longer a member of The Washouts entirely?”

“The latter, sadly,” I told her in a lamenting tone.

“Well, um . . . that's unfortunate to hear,” Demise said with regret. “May I ask why?”

“No, you may not,” I told her firmly at first but then explained a bit more softly, “It's . . . personal. Let's just put it that way.”

“Fair enough,” Demise accepted. “Then may I make another request? How about you finally put my colleague down? I promise we won't bite . . . much.”

I hesitated to answer that request. Before doing that, I reassessed my situation. Creepy as this clown might be, it was not totally unknown for mascot characters to be like this sometimes. Also, being a former associate to this park may help explain their interest in me, especially if it wasn't known that I was no longer with The Washouts. Furthermore, since I got some assurance that they don't intend any personal harm for the moment, I supposed I could relax my guard a little. At least enough to dismiss any potentially illegal action on my part.

With all that in mind, I cautiously set my prisoner down but I also inwardly remained alert. The pony in the clown costume, Moonlight, wasn't the only pony that had me wary anymore. Demise had me secretly a bit unsettled as well.

“Anyway,” I spoke up to break the tension a bit, “if the two of you were hoping to recruit me, and my former gang, for another performance here, I'm afraid you're out of luck. I'm not doing that anymore. At least not for the time being.”

“'The time being,'” Demise echoed. “Fair enough. The present is for you to decide. As for the future? It shall unveil itself in due time, and I am a patient mare.”

“That makes one of us,” I scoffed. “Patience has never been my strong suit.”

“That much is clear,” Demise agreed as she passed a fleeting look to her companion then back to me. “Tell you what. While you remain busy sorting yourself out, how about the two of us return the favor? Instead of you putting on a performance for us, we go the other way around?”

I was about to question that when, suddenly, Demise flicked her right hoof and a ticket appeared on it.

“For you,” Demise told me as she offered the ticket gracefully. “On the house.”

“What is it?” I asked as I accepted with a left wing then examined the ticket itself. The ticket said it was for a band called, “The ShadowBolts.”

“You're not the only performers in this park,” Demise partially answered. “And some of us are here on a more consistent basis.” She nodded towards the ticket as she said, “That there is a front row ticket to one of our performances. You will graciously attend, won't you? Perhaps, in doing so, you may become more familiar with a broader range of your options.”

“What?!” I snapped my gaze back at Demise. “You want to recruit me for your band?”

“Time will tell, and perhaps we can even be more than just that,” Demise answered mysteriously before she gave me a liquid smooth, graceful nod that I could only compare to the regal former princesses of this country who had, themselves, centuries of practice. “Until we meet again, Oh Ephemeral One.”

I raised an eyebrow at her for that mysterious statement. She, meanwhile, gave a subtle nod to Moonlight and, together, they trotted off and soon vanished in the shadows between the buildings around us.

I marveled at this new situation I found myself unexpectedly in as I looked back at the ticket which I was still holding with my left wing.

I guess I didn't really know what to expect from a concert like this in advance. I didn't have expectations because I had never heard of this band before. Everything that I learned about them came from direct experience, the decorations at the concert, and a look at their fans. All of my observations revealed that this performance probably would have some dark theme to it.

That was fine with me. There were plenty of times I even preferred that. I didn't come here expecting to enjoy myself but I have since gained some hints that this performance might actually be pretty cool.

If it was true that I put on a performance at this park myself, which I still didn't remember, it didn't seem out of character for me. In that case it was a surprise that I missed these performers back then.

Then again, if I had performed here, it would usually be a daytime show. My gang and I have done some nighttime performances before. One particular notable one was done in Los Pegasus and that was because it was indoors with plenty of good lighting. Still, for the sake of clear visibility for both my gang as well as the audience, we usually stuck to daytime performances. This concert, however, actually did seem more appropriate for the night based on the motif I've observed around here.

When the performance started, I noticed they began with low bass guitar and some accomponying drum beats. As well, I noticed fog start to envelope the stage rather quickly. Off to the side, several unicorns fired off different colors of laser beams which reflected off many tiny mirrors set all around the stage. The lasers bounced, bent, and ricocheted off many of the tiny mirrors which kind of created a net of light. As the performance continued, either the lasers moved or the mirrors turned. Whichever it happened to be, it resulted in a dazzling display of dancing light beams.

The singers themselves were the last to arrive on stage. Of them, Demise was especially notable since she took the lead both in position and in their singing. Another thing that stood out about them was they didn't really seem to fully be there. Rather than that, they seemed like holographic illusions projected into the fog itself when it got tall enough to match their height. I could tell because the billow of the cloud from the fog occasionally made certain parts of them disappear when it got too low or too small. It seemed they were literally using smoke and mirrors in order to stand there. They also glowed a little too brightly to be fully natural.

“To those of you who venture into the night,” Demise began, not in a singing voice, but rather a talking voice which was in a low, sultry whisper. “the natives welcome you. Come with us as we glide through the darkness . . . and straight into your heart.”

Then, together, Demise and the flanking twins started singing in several escalating octaves. The instrumental performances behind them rose to match them steadily, but they seemed a small step behind. Once they reached the upper octaves, the singers held it for an impressively long time which helped to suggest that this was not just a rock concert but also blended into a true opera genre. Stage magician tricks, and darn good ones too, seem tossed in just for good measure.

At one point I had caught the eyes of Demise staring right at me. During that moment, I thought I had noticed her purple eyes blaze with darker purple energy around her entire eye and her pupils. When I saw that, I got lost in a trance. The rest of the scenery around me faded. I don't know how long. That curious sensation ended when she looked away from me. All of a sudden, the environment around me returned to sharper focus and I felt momentarily dizzy. I didn't know what happened to me, but I figured the lights I saw in her eyes was either a trick of the light or a purposeful trick of hers.

Overall they put on a mesmerizing performance. The central theme to their song seemed to be about encouraging us to welcome darkness into our hearts. They also sometimes did some tricks during the performance that I couldn't really explain. Examples of that were the microphones on a stand on the stage were actually there, but how did they grab them and tilt them down if they weren't really standing there? Also they sometimes tilted themselves too low and swung about at too sharp of an angle to be normally able to hold their balance and without using their wings, but they somehow did.

After the performance was done the lights of the stage picked up and the smoke evaporated. When it cleared, I noticed that the singers were not standing on the stage for real but a little further back than the position they seemed to be earlier.

Just who are these gals? I had to find out more.

Chapter 5: How I Died

After being invited by them when they finished their work at the carnival, I continued to learn fascinating things about my new group of friends here, such as them not only being fantastic fliers as well, but equally daring.

This latest observation caused me to replay the things I had learned thus far. Not only had I run into carnies at Pony Island who worked in various venues there, including a rock/opera/magic show concert, but they also were very good and daring fliers? Where were these ponies when I actually sought out such potential to join The Washouts earlier?

I personally marveled at what eccentric and eclectic ponies these were.

Seriously, I had no idea that I would run into more ponies with very similar interests as me on that night. It seemed an even crueler irony that I found them only after I was forced to leave The Washouts myself. What a vicious taunt!

At least I had fun with them on that night. It also made sense why they had sought me out if, indeed, our interests were so compatible on many fronts.

Even then, those mares were practicing in ways that I had done with the rest of The Washouts such as daringly diving into and out of storm clouds. One difference, however, was the fact that they were doing it exceptionally well. Even scary well.

Like them, I dove into the storm clouds too. I was buffeted by strong winds and stinging rain which made a tapping sound as it splashed on my leather jacket, yet I continued to fly through it so naturally. Lightning and thunder flashed and rolled all around me, yet I was strangely calm within it. I was one with the elements and the storm, especially on that night since the turbulent weather seemed to poetically match my inner mindset at the time. I felt myself sink into a curiously peaceful trance as I continued to fly through the storm.

But these mares dove and spun all around me. I sometimes saw them carry the storm with them in their wake. Sometimes those clouds spun into miniature tornadoes because they dove past me in a spin. The spinning clouds chased after them which sometimes accelerated by combining with windstorms that the others also created.

There was something so eerie about their mad cackle in the storm. I didn't know what it was. These mares . . . there was just something off about them. Their laughter sounded more like the edge of madness.

The irony to that was The Washouts and I had been accused of that before. Many had said we were insane too. Usually we either accepted that claim with an innocent shrug or passionately embraced it. Considering all that, what would it take for insane ponies to consider yet another group even more insane?

Another thing about them that took me quite some time to identify was they were utterly fearless as they did these daring stunts. The Washouts and I faced our fears and leaned into them, but these mad mares didn't sound like they had fear to begin with. They were rather delighted in the storm on perhaps another level. Whatever it was, it felt primal and dangerous somehow. Observing this fascinated me as much as it secretly scared me.

There was also an instinct in me that begged me to realize I was treading on more dangerous ground with them than usual, and I was not a mare who typically ignored her instincts because it was usually why I survived my daring stunts so well aside from my highly honed athletic skills.

As time went on, I couldn't put my hoof on as to why, but they seemed honestly very surprised I could keep up with them. Likewise, I was surprised I have found others able to keep up with me.

The next thing they did was they dove and curved between the dangerous twists and turns of Ghastly Gorge. I had done that before as well, except the night time part was new for me. With the darker conditions, this was ten times more dangerous, yet these mares spun and curved around there as if this was nothing to them. I gradually began to realize that all I had to do was simply follow the sound of their wake and I could move through this gorge with similar ease. Was that a case of the blind following the not-so-blind for some reason?

Like me, they had no trouble dodging the sudden bites of the giant eels that shot out some of the holes in the gorge in an attempt to consume us. These mares even playfully and madly laughed as they twirled around them and kicked off their scaly hides. As for me, I simply dodged them. My instincts kicked in as sharply as ever, especially when I perceived danger.

Later they upped the ante again by diving within one of the holes of the gorge. In there, they should quickly be utterly blind, even if this was done in the daylight instead. I could hear their laughter start to fade within that tunnel while I skidded to a stop in midair.

Wow! Were they really mad? I was daring, but what they were doing then was downright suicidal.

“Come on, Lightning!” one of them cried out from within with an echo.

“Yeah!” agreed another. “Leap before you look . . . remember?”

Leap before I look? Yeah right! There was no way I would be able to see in there anyway. I would be as blind as a bat in there.

I heard their laughter continue to recede from me. That, at least, meant they were still alive enough to make a sound at all. How were they doing this?

I had never had anypony else show me up like this at my own game. I never before felt my courage and daringness being taunted as if I were the coward. Usually other ponies looked up to me and asked how I was doing what I did. This whole experience felt utterly surreal. Was I dreaming?

I took in a deep breath then slowly let it out, thus calming myself down.

Leap before I look, I reminded myself.

I repeated that in my head like a mantra even as I finally dove into the tunnel that they dove in earlier.

This was so crazy. I might as well be diving into the solid earth at full speed. If I truly wanted to kill myself, surely there might be more glorious ways to go out.

Panic tried to assail me as that black hole got closer and closer. But, before I met it, I closed my eyes entirely and forced myself to calm down. I knew I could not see in there anyway, so I might as well close my eyes. Instead of that, I sank into a trance and focused more on my other senses, including my unusually acute instincts.

I felt the temperature change when I was in the tunnel. I heard the sound of my wing flaps echo in the tunnel all around me. When I noticed that, it suddenly occurred to me how I could track where I was in there. Blind as a bat I may have been in there, but bats could track their progress in other ways.

I dove, I climbed, I zigged and I zagged. I heard as I dodged stalactites and stalagmites. They wooshed past me, each reminding me I just dodged yet another chance at death.

“Come on, Lightning. Join us. Be one of us,” echoed a mare's voice from somewhere ahead.

I mostly tried to ignore them since I was fighting for my life there. There was a thread of shame in the pit of my stomach that they were doing this so effortlessly, but I shall not be left behind. I am Lightning Dust! One of the most daring ponies in Equestria.

I focused with all of my might, but fear climbed within me as I felt the fact that the cave was getting narrower. I could hear the echo of my own wing flaps getting closer. I could hear myself dodging other objects that were closer. This was really dangerous. How were these mares doing this so easily?

Then, finally, my left wing clipped with the edge of the cave wall. This knocked that wing back and injured it. I ended up diving down in a spin, screaming, until I got impaled by one of many unseeable stalagmites.

I couldn't believe this! I just utterly couldn't believe this! Me, of all mares, one of the most daring I've ever known, was going to die in these caverns!

How did it come to this? Did I want to die? Did I want to abandon my sister after all?

I was shocked to realize I felt no pain at first, but it gradually did come up. When it did, it seemed to have no end to the amount it scaled up.

A humming sound by several of the mares I had been chasing rose around me. When it did, an eerie dark purple glow ignited within several dark crystals embedded in the walls. At first I wondered if that was the secret to their success earlier, but no. If they were using that before, I should have easily noticed this light stand out in darkness that was this pitch black, even with my eyes closed.

I heard their humming, but I didn't see them. All except one of them; Demise. She alone approached close enough for me to see her in this dim light.

“We are very impressed with you, Miss Dust,” Demise said as she crouched down and gently moved a hoof through my mane tenderly. “To keep up with us as you are, a mere mortal. How much greater will you be if you become one of us?”

“Who . . . who are you all?” I asked as I struggled hard to avoid screaming in pain. “What are you?” I desperately amended.

“We are the apex predators,” Demise answered me smoothly and soothingly like a mother trying to calm down her distraught foal. “We are the greatest champions of the Night Goddess.”

I furrowed my eyebrows as I continued to struggle to repress a pained grimace as I asked, “Princess Luna? You speak for-”

I was interrupted by a bunch of disgusted and loathing hisses all around me that also briefly interrupted their humming. When that happened, the dark purple glow of various crystals around us started to fade. In response, Demise quickly passed a glare out at unseen ponies around us for this. When she did, the humming picked up again. When that happened, the glow of the crystals returned to their previous strength.

Then Demise looked back at me with a shake of her head and said, “No. We don't speak for that foul abomination. That corrupted puppet of Celestia.”

I tried to gasp, but I ended up coughing out blood instead. Still, I was determined to speak my mind, so I rounded up my remaining strength again and told her, “Luna isn't Celestia's puppet. She is her sister!”

“She was Nightmare Moon!” Demise cried out at me in outrage, thus losing her cool for the first time I had ever observed in her. “The true Goddess of the Night.” She tilted her head at me as she asked me, “Don't you think it's a little suspicious for her to be this all-powerful alicorn who let nothing step in her way, then poof! One zap of the rainbow beam of the Elements of 'Harmony' and now she's suddenly this sniveling and groveling slave who pretends to be Celestia's sister?” She shook her head. “No pony suddenly switches moral views like that so drastically without a very unusual reason. The rainbow beams of the Elements of 'Harmony' did this to her. It is concealing and containing our beloved goddess. It is forcing her to act like this pathetic pony ever since that day, and secretly doing so to an utterly unwilling target, I might add.”

I was confused. This was hard to accept. I felt like arguing with her, but my senses were dimming. I felt dizzy. My vision was blackening. My hearing was fading. I was losing strength. As I started to die, I did so with a realization that I genuinely was following a bunch of utterly mad ponies!

Demise leaned down and whispered into my ear, “I can save your life, little pony. If I do, you can say goodbye to the life you knew before. A better one awaits thee.”

Weakly, I looked at her. I didn't know what to make of that statement.

“Why did you struggle so hard to live before?” Demise continued to ask me as she whispered into my ear. “Whatever it was before, does it, in any way, continue to linger? Why did you cling to life?”

Because I wanted to live.

“Why fight?” she asked.

Because I enjoyed a challenge. I like the struggle.

Demise pulled a knife up from seemingly out of nowhere. She grasped it with a wing and pulled it to a hoof. Along the way, I had to remind myself that she was a trained magician.

“If you have any reason to continue to live, drink this,” she offered before startling me by slicing below her own left hoof. After she did, she hovered that hoof over my own mouth and seemed to drip her blood on my face on purpose for some reason.

“Drink!” Demise commanded me. “Drink the nectar of life. Drink . . . the nectar of death. Eternal life, and eternal death!”

What was I supposed to make of all this?

“Drink now,” she commanded me again. “What do you have to lose at this point besides your life?”

Well . . . I guess she had me there. I had no idea how a pony's blood was supposed to act like some kind of healing potion, but she seemed weirdly confident that it could help. If I didn't do this, I was going to die. Was that what I wanted?

I briefly considered the contents of my life. The struggles I went through and the struggles I wanted to continue doing, most of which was interrupted by my sister.

I gave up a lot for her. Practically my whole life for her. I couldn't really say I did it without some hesitation or a sense of resentment, but the fact remained that I did it anyway. She needed me, and that hasn't changed. If I died that night, she may die too. Of a broken heart if nothing else.

Bitter resentment clung to my heart, but so does a righteous cry of outrage! I can't let her down! Not after I've gotten this far! Not after all I gave up to get here.

Leap before I look.

Greedily, I scooped up her leg and dragged it to my mouth where I proceeded to feed. A distinct metallic taste assaulted my mouth, but it curiously left a surprisingly intense and addictive aftertaste. Before I could stop myself, I found myself gorging on her blood.

Weirdly, Demise seemed aroused by this, yet it didn't seem to strengthen her in the least. As one would expect, draining her blood did seem to weaken her significantly. She was clearly woozy at that point.

I only paused my drinking for a brief moment when a pulse of pain shot through me. My body tried to reject the foreign substance as if suddenly realizing that this blood was actually poison, not a healing potion.

And yet, instead of gagging, I ended up drinking even more. I couldn't stop myself!

“One of us! One of us!” the others chanted like this was some kind of dark ritual to them.

I felt my heart pumping fast as if racing desperately to resist this poisonous substance that flooded my veins. I even felt every vein of my body pulse too. I started to notice detailed sensations I never noticed before, like the sweat of the others. Demise most of all.

My body screamed at me to stop, yet I could not. I couldn't seem to control my actions anymore. It was as if some ravenous animal had possessed and taken over my body. I felt like I was floating off to the side, casually observing this as if my body was somepony else's.

“One of us! One of us!” the chant continued. As it did, it seemed to synchronize with my ever more desperate heartbeat. My heart struggled with all of its might to resist the substance that was killing my body.

I couldn't stop!

I . . .

Did I want to?

What was happening to me?

Then, suddenly, my heart stopped. That last pulse rippled through my body like a last gasp of life. In that same instance, the chant of the others also suddenly ceased as if they realized what had happened.

As my consciousness faded away, the greatly weakened Demise leaned down and whispered into my ear, “Say your goodbyes to the light, my new friend, for when you next awaken . . . you will be reborn with new vampony eyes.” She paused again, then said, “Welcome . . . to the ShadowBolts.”

. . .

I died.

Chapter 6: Something is Different

“So you just . . . died?” Rolling Thunder asked me as she supportively held the other end of the large black punching bag I was rhythmically punching within this gym we liked to share together. “Oy mean . . . in this dream ya had of yours, luv?”

“I guess so,” I said with a shrug as I continued punching. “I mean . . . the next thing I knew, I woke up back in my family home with my sister. What else was I supposed to assume?”

“And, ah . . . ya don't feel no craving for blood, don't'cha?” Thunder checked with a teasing grin.

I scoffed for a second as I passed her a, “Get real” kind of expression.

“Oy! Ya can't fault an ol' lass lahk me for at least finding the idea fascinating,” Thunder said with a coy grin as she continued to hold the punching bag steady. “Oy mean, ya can't deny the fact 'at there are some mysteries we ponies don't understand out on these here parts. We been right touring all over Equestria, we rightly did, and seen some weird stuff along the way.” She gazed beyond me as she asked somepony else a question. Probably Short Fuse. “Ain't that right, ya ol' bug'ah?

“You call this equipment CLEAN?!” I heard Short Fuse yell at somepony else behind me. “EVEN FLIES WOULD STICK THEIR NOSES UP AT THIS IN DISDAIN!”

I paused for a second as I partially turned my head in Short Fuse's direction and turned my ears above my head even further at her. In doing so, I noticed the unusually short, downright adorable foal-sized adult red pegasus who flew up to be at even head height with somepony else who probably was an employee at this gym. As Short Fuse flew, I could see him strained during his outburst, such as neck veins popping off his neck or red cracks spreading on the white of his eyes. His face was also turning a darker shade of red.

“I'm sorry, Sir,” replied what was probably a panicked employee at this establishment. “We'll clean that up for you right away.”

“LIKE TARTARUS YOU WILL!!!” Fuse screeched back. “YOU'LL BUY ME A WHOLE SET OF NEW EQUIPMENT FOR THIS GRIEVOUS INSULT. HECK. WHY DON'T YOU BUY AN ENTIRELY NEW GYM WHILE YOU'RE AT IT?!

“SWEET PONY FEATHERS! WHY AM I CONSTANTLY SURROUNDED BY SUCH UTTERLY INCOMPETENT MORONS?!”

A faint, fond grin grew on my lips before I redirected my attention back at my punching bag then resumed my punches.

Sweet Celestia, I so missed these two! In there, with them, I felt like I finally returned home, or at least paying my “true” home a visit.

“Goo' ol' Short Fuse,” Rolling Thunder said with an amused chuckle and a shake of her head. “Always gaught tah be riled up about somethin', don' 'E?”

I paused for a second as I collected my breath, shook my head, and expressed as I resumed punching, “Sweet Celestia, I really miss you two.”

“Us too, luv,” Thunder replied with an even look of fondness at me. “Show ain't rightly been the same since ya left, mate.”

“But you two are continuing?” I asked with hope in my voice.

She nodded and said, “Aye, but lahk Oy said, it ain't been the same without ya. Ya're usually the one to schedule and arrange all the stunts and whatnot.” She gave a devious grin as she added, “And ya always got a sinister mind at it. I've always loved that about ya.”

I frowned a bit as I continued punching while I said, “Alas, I cannot, as much as I might like to.”

“Well, it rightly would be nice if these here ol' 'ShadowBolts' or whatnot really did exist,” Rolling Thunder mused aloud. “Apart from apparently trying to kill ya, they sounded like they hoofled themselves rightly well up in yon sky. Ain't many that can keep up with yar hide, that's for bloody true.”

I didn't say anything to that. I just kept punching.

“So, eh . . . how are all the ol' things out on yon homestead?” Thunder checked.

“I don't want to talk about it,” I replied glumly.

“Aw, come on there, luv. Don't be lahk that. If ya can't trust yee ol' partner in crime with ya secrets, who can ya trust? Come on, then. Out with it, luv. Lay it all on goo' ol' Thun'dah.”

I paused as I sighed then asked, “You sure you want to know?” Before she replied, I resumed a combo of punching.

“'Tis goo' tah get it off ya chest, luv,” she told me. “Even yo strong shoulders can't take endless presh'sah wit'out end. That’s for true.”

I sighed again before I replied, “Well, if you must know, I'm peeved.”

“Whoa!” Thunder exclaimed in shock. “Ain't that a bit harsh?”

“Are you kidding me?!” I growled as I punched much faster. “First I get kicked out of the Wonderbolts, then I form the most awesome flying team in the sky only to get dragged from that by my very own sister . . . and it isn't even her fault!”

Thunder regarded the punching bag itself as my punches not only picked up amazing speed, but also power.

“So who am I going to blame for all of this misfortune, huh?” I snapped irritably. “Whose head should I punch at till it's spinning several times?

“I just can't take all of this shameless surrender! I feel like I should be crushing something, not lying down and taking it as if my hindlegs were spread.”

“Ah . . . mate,” Thunder said with a voice of rising caution as I continued my rapid barrage of punches.

“Why did this have to happen to me, huh? Tell me why?!” I practically screeched. “I had a good thing going! A very good thing. When I founded The Washouts, it felt like I discovered my cutie mark all over again! It was my destiny . . . and now it's ALL RIPPED APART FROM ME!”

By that time, without me consciously realizing it, I was punching the bag in a blur of motion. I averaged about forty-seven punches per second across twelve seconds, and every single one of those punches landed with the force of a professional boxer taking his or her time to wind up for their most devastating punch they could possibly do in their entire career. As I continued, I started to rapidly punch a bunch of holes in the punching bag which thus proceeded to leak sand like blood would from a pony body.

To complete that combo, I screamed in rage at the top of my lungs before whirling about and kicking the sandbag with all of my might. The force of that blow not only launched Rolling Thunder back and crashed her into the wall hard enough to spread cracks in it, but I also cleaved the sandbag in half. It proceeded to dump all the rest of its sand on the floor the very next second.

Stunned silence froze all other activity in the room. As it continued, I gradually noticed as I returned to my senses.

After crashing into the wall, Rolling Thunder slid down onto the floor with an utterly stunned and dazed look on her face. Next, she coughed out a bit of blood before looking back at me with almost bloodshot eyes and she exclaimed loudly, “Holy cow!!! How'd ya do that, luv? Most mares who retire from some intense sports usually get weak'ah over time, but wowie-wow! What's ya secret, luv? Ya gaught tah tell ya ol' pal Thun'dah!”

The others gazed at me with awe and some of them with horror. I, meanwhile, widened my eyes with utter terror.

How did I do that?! Did it have anything to do with that dream?

Or was it a dream? Because, if not, there were far more dire implications in place.

Feeling overwhelmed and, quite frankly, panicked, I quickly snatched my black leather jacket that was draped on the then vacant weight lifting bench then bolted out of the gym as fast as my legs could carry me. Along my way out, I heard Thunder's concerned cries attempt to follow after me.

I stumbled into an alleyway in between two buildings within Pony Island Fairgrounds. I did so to get some shelter from this awful daylight.

It was so interesting to recall feeling like I was strong enough to demolish a building with my bare hooves back at the gym until I rushed outside into the broad daylight. The moment I had, I felt my hide start to burn and my vision was blinded. Thank goodness I got my leather jacket on to give me some sun protection as well as the sunglasses I had in my inner coat pocket which I also wore.

Initially I came back to this park to find out if those mares I met last night even existed at all, but as I flew there, I found that I was quickly losing strength. It became very dangerous to remain aloft as I continued the journey. Still, I barely made it eventually, only I didn't feel like I had the strength to search these Fairgrounds for any of the ShadowBolts anymore.

I crouched over deeply as I applied an elbow against one of the walls between the alleyway. As I did so, I struggled to catch my breath. Each breath I took felt scorching hot. It seemed to do so little to supply my body with muchly needed oxygen, yet I pressed on anyway because the only alternative was to stop breathing. For obvious reasons, that really wasn't an option.

Thank Celestia I had those sunglasses in my inner jacket pocket. Usually I held onto these just to look cool in the eyes of my fans or to give my eyes some protection as a windscreen for fast flight just in case I had nothing else. But, on that day, they really came unexpectedly in hoofy for the very purpose they were originally designed for.

The thing was, I didn't know what was going on with my body anymore. Back at the gym, I didn't even consciously notice how much damage I did to that punching bag until I utterly demolished it and probably sent good old Thunder back into the hospital. This alone was very freaky to me, but the moment I rushed outside in a panic, I felt sick, dizzy, and weak. I recalled feeling that way somewhat along my way to the gym on that morning, too. But, at the time, the symptoms weren't nearly so bad so I mostly dismissed it earlier. Had I come down with something? Was it much more serious than I initially thought?

Memories of last night's “dream” returned to my mind as a possible explanation, but the rational side of my mind struggled hard to rebel against it because, according to those memories, I died. Just straight up died. No pony survived being impaled on a stalagmite through the abdomen for very long.

Thinking back, I recalled thinking that those mares, the ShadowBolts, acted very unusual. Ponies normally are highly individualistic anyway, but there was just something about them that felt off in a dangerous sort of way. Normally danger doesn't scare me. In fact, I usually found challenging danger quite thrilling, but in this case, something about them felt unnerving. Their attitude, their abilities, their language, their movements . . . almost everything about them cries out the words “dangerously abnormal” as if they weren't really ponies at all but rather something much more sinister.

Could they be changelings? I never met one that I'm aware of, but I suppose that's the point. If I ever did meet members of their species, how would I know when their most iconic ability was the ability to disguise themselves as anything and anyone? And, if they were changelings, how could they bring me back from the dead? If changelings were always powerful enough to bring back the dead, it seemed to me their earlier world conquest goals would've gained more momentum by now. Instead, hardly anypony was aware of their existence. Even after the newspapers spread the word about their society's so-called “reformed” state, hardly anypony I've ever known actually met one.

Still, this was the most rational conclusion my mind seemed to insist upon because, as apparent “ponies”, they felt just a little too off. Some of it was hard to explain even to myself, but my instincts insisted normal ponies don't act like they do.

Still feeling dizzy, I pressed my whole back against the wall and shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I then gazed across from me and noticed something that caught my eye in a bad way; a poster of the Wonderbolts. Moreover, this particular poster featured Rainbow Dash herself in the center of their flight formation. The Bolts, in this case, were apparently in the middle of swooping up from a low dive and this poster seemed to capture an image of them just at the upper cusp of the U shaped curve.

Upon sight of the poster, fury sank into the pit of my stomach and bile into my mouth. Without thinking things through, I cried in outrage as I raced to the other side of the alleyway at the speed of a snap and punched a hole through the image of Rainbow Dash's head. I held my hoof through the new hole as I glared harshly at the poster. During that time I was breathing heavily.

“Eep!” exclaimed a startled mare from somewhere nearby.

Feeling startled as well, which incidentally also snapped me out of my blind rage, I looked to my right and peered at a cream colored earth pony mare with wavy reddish-brown mane with a bunch of daisies woven into her mane. Real daisy flowers too, by the looks of them.

Then I looked back at the poster as it suddenly dawned on me that I just punched through a thick, solid wooden wall the poster was on as if it were made of thin, cheap, and wet cardboard. When that occurred to me, I suddenly realized why this other mare was so startled.

I looked back at her while withdrawing my hoof from the hole in the wall. I also casually tried to lean against the wall with one elbow behind me. Furthermore, I gave an overly innocent, casual sounding whistle as if to stubbornly declare, “Nothing to see here, folks.”

In return, the mare gave me a sheepish and slightly frightened smile which showed her teeth. The kind of smile that seemed to insist, “I didn't see anything” except I could totally tell that she had seen something startling. At the same time, she slowly trotted off backwards out of the alley until she rounded a corner before proceeding to gallop off in a panic.

My shoulders slumped as I sighed despondently. I thought that situation could become a serious problem soon. I really didn't know my own strength anymore. One minute it's super strong, and the next it's super weak. It didn't seem to make up its mind, and either way, there was very little warning involved. Normally I would be excited to explore brand new potential, but at that rate, I might end up in prison in Tartarus because of the sheer fear of the rest of the general public, or maybe I would end up banished and locked in a dungeon.

When I looked back at the poster behind me, it occurred to me that I was glad that wasn't the real Rainbow Dash. If it were, her head probably would have exploded just a moment ago. I may not like her, but downright killing her was going way, way too far.

And that was the other danger of not knowing my own strength anymore. If I didn't get this under control, eventually somepony might really get hurt.

Just then, another intense wave of dizziness assailed me. This time I couldn't resist it. I ended up sliding down the wall that I was leaning against. When I fully sat on the ground with the wall behind me as back support, I slid fully off to my right side and passed out.

Chapter 8: A Hunter's Resolve

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 9: The ShadowBolts

I don't know what it is about standing in these caverns that makes me want to question reality. No matter how many times I have stood here before, which admittedly isn't that many yet, I keep wondering if this is a dream or some kind of horrible nightmare. It's not as if I'm a coward either. I have faced down some other scary situations before and laughed at it, so what makes this so different for me? Why does part of me simply refuse to accept this as reality?

The likely answer is that it's too different from what I've known before, and I don't want it to be true either.

I pause as my blood freezes when I hear the echo of my sister cry out in these caverns. Whether it is just because she's scared or because she just got physically assaulted plus she's scared, I really can't be sure. When the sting of that shocking information starts to fade, I feel my desperate sense of denial rush forward again. That voice cries out to me, “Ignore this. It's not real. It can't be real. Too much critical foundational knowledge of reality would have to be questioned for this to be real. That's too much to ask. Things really can't be this bad. It truly is impossible. It must be some sort of trick. Remember, you are dealing with at least one magician here. They are called illusionists for a reason.”

But, by necessity, I feel forced to reply to that voice, “And what if it is real? Dare I risk the health of my beloved sister? Of course not! I wouldn't even do that in a dream. Not if I'm myself enough within the dream to question my reality in the first place.

“Besides, even if some of this is fake, what guarantees do I have that this magician isn't also insane and/or a true sociopath? If she is, then all it means is she can make a greater spectacle of her sinister work. By 'pretending' to be vampony, when she's actually not, may not remove the fact that she truly did beat an innocent boy to death and apparently did it for fun. She can dress that up however she likes. It's still evil, even if it turns out that all of this was just some cruel, sick and deeply twisted joke. No matter what, I won't risk my sister falling to the same fate.”

While I paused, I closed my eyes as I wrestle with my rationality and my personal fears. However, upon hearing the sound of flesh being struck then the cry of my sister immediately following that, I do indeed panic despite myself.

My eyes fly open before I fly forward. I twist back and forth as I dodge cavern walls until I quickly arrive at the same altar where I saw the boy die two nights before. Here, I once again encounter most of the mares who are dressed in that same ShadowBolts uniform. The lone exception is Demise herself and my sister beneath the statue. I also see Demise standing directly on top of my sister who is held suspended in the air by rope tied to each leg which lifted her above the slab in an X pattern. Unlike before, Demise seems to be wielding nothing more than a common lead pipe. Notably, a bloody lead pipe. Upon sight of that, I scream in rage and lurch forward, but the other mares present surge to cease me which also reminds me that I'm not the only augmented individual here.

“Welcome-welcome, dear Sister of the Night,” Demise says in a grandiose way as she turns about to face me with graceful flourish. Her ultra thin dress swishes and sways as she turns. She's still standing directly on top of my sister as she turns to face me. Despite how dainty Demise looks, I can't convince myself that standing there like that isn't painful for my sister, especially since she has already delivered at least a few whacks at her already. “Please join us.” The hoof that isn't holding the lead pipe lifts to gesture towards me. “I see you finally got my message.”

I'm taken aback as I wonder what message she's talking about. I heard about all of this from the vampony hunter Doctor Horseling himself.

Then it occurs to me that Demise might have left a message elsewhere, like my home, but I haven't been back there in a while because I was too afraid and ashamed to face my sister in this condition.

But then I recall that I'm supposed to distract these ladies from his presence. I can't tip them off that he's the real reason I found out about all of this instead, so I lie by saying, “Yeah. I got your message. I rushed over here as soon as I could in order to stop you!” I growl harshly. “Why are you doing this anyway?”

“To complete your transformation,” Demise replies without missing a beat, and she punctuates that point by actually striking my sister again right before my eyes. Seeing that sparks an enraged frenzy in me again, but the mares holding me back are completely prepared for it since they very much expected that reaction. They only double down on me harder, and I'm vastly outnumbered here.

Demise waits for me to be relatively calm enough again to understand her before she resumes speaking. It is then that she says, “We know how painful this process can be for you because many of us went through the same thing. As your spiritual leader, it is my job to ease your transition as much as possible. In order to do that, you need to learn to let go of your former, weak mortal attachments. They'll only hold you back. Trust me, the sooner we rip off this band-aid, the sooner your true road to recovery can begin.”

“But you don't need to do this!” I wail.

Demise gives me a soft, seemingly compassionate smile as she says, “Of course I do.” Then she whacks my sister again. Both my sister and I cry out in response this time.

With the pain and fury of a raging demon, I summon all the strength I can muster, but it still isn't enough. Not only do the other mares here continue to block me, but they don't even look strained with the effort. Some of them are even giggling at me as if they think the effort I'm making against them is downright adorable. With all of them piled on me as they are, that's more than enough to hold me back no matter how determined I get.

After summoning that much raw determination and still failing, and that by an obvious margin, an equal amount of depression replaces it soon after. I lower my head as I start to question if the fact that I failed to overcome all of these mares is a sign that I don't love my sister enough to overcome this difficult trial. I start to wonder if this is my fault. For the life of me and her, I can't figure out how I could possibly love her more . . . yet somehow that still isn't enough.

But then, suddenly, the words the Doctor gave me rang through my head like a ray of hope.

“Even if that means they score a few hits on her. Just stay calm and keep them talking. Keep them monologuing.”

Fighting against them physically isn't going to work. Just standing here isn't working either. Demise is striking my sister either way, but talking to them might not just distract them from noticing the Doctor. Maybe they'll also stop attacking my sister too if it seems their words are starting to have an effect on me.

I growl because I resent being put in this position. I'm not a deep thinker or a diplomatic talker. At heart, I'm a fighter. I'm the kind of pony who recklessly rushes into danger. I usually meet every challenge I face with my hooves swinging and a daring grin on my face.

But, if the situation actually forces me to adapt to a more cerebral approach, I'll do my best. Like everything else I do in life, I always apply my best effort, especially considering the motivation I have at this moment.

“You really think this will turn me?” I growl hatefully as I lift my head and glare back at Demise. “Well you're half right. You'll succeed in turning me into an immortal, unholy spawn of the Night . . . but have you ever given any thought into what happens after?”

In response, Demise tilts her head at me. She seems curious what point I'm trying to make here. Meanwhile, the closest thing she does to striking my sister again is simply apply the lead pipe on my sister's body and lean on it with both of her forehooves on her side of the pipe.

“Turning me into a vicious killer doesn't ensure you hold a victory,” I go on. “Because the grudge I'll develop against you because of this moment will be equally unkillable. True, I'll be a fellow immortal, just like you wanted, but I will be an immortal ENEMY!”

“You think that's how this works?” Demise questions softly as she lifts an eyebrow at me.

Notably, getting her to talk to me like this means she's too distracted to actively whack at my sister again.

“You think it matters how much of a grudge you develop against me?” Demise goes on. “You're no threat to me. I have a significant head start when it comes to feeding upon dark energy, and one way or another . . . you'll soon come to realize that the knowledge I've acquired across all these centuries is too valuable for even you to dismiss. Necessity breeds its own form of beasts, Miss Dust, and I've been at this long enough to know how this system works.” She shakes her head. “There are changes that are occurring within you that you can't fully understand or appreciate for the moment. These things take time to fully develop, and time is a commodity we have in infinite abundance. I can afford to play the long strategy in any situation. That takes time to master, of course.” She gives me a coy grin as she gestures to herself while saying, “Enough said.”

“But sometimes the risks aren't necessary,” I argue back desperately. I don't even care if I win this argument. I just need to keep her talking. I need to keep her from noticing the Doctor or from continuing to assault my sister. “Think about it! What does attacking her really give you? As a mortal, she was going to die anyway.”

“Exactly, so why not end her suffering now?” Demise counters.

“Because she's more valuable to me alive!” I cry out. “Yes, I know, she's ephemeral. Most ponies are, but I still don't care. I still want to spend what time I have with her. If you allow this, if you grant me this one mercy, I'll be indebted to you instead of holding a grudge against you.”

I pretend to realize something, or rather half pretend to. After all, the idea I have might actually be true.

“You claim you know the system,” I begin. “You claim you have centuries of knowledge and wisdom. That it makes you better than the rest of us somehow. Is what you are doing now part of that strategy? Are you just pretending to want to kill my sister so that you could bargain with me and earn my loyalty to you by pretending to spare that which you never intended to kill?”

Demise narrows her eyes at me as she replies, “Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you.” She then lifts up the pipe and quickly smashes at my sister again. Like clockwork, Charity cries out in pain again, but a bit more faintly this time because she is losing blood and strength. Demise points the pipe at me as she says, “I'm attacking her to make several points simultaneously. I want to make absolutely sure that you know that I'm not bluffing. That I'm not merely claiming that I might attack your sister. I want you to know that I'll actually prove I'm a threat by genuinely doing what I claim I'll do.” She strikes my sister again then asks, “Do you now believe me? Or do you need more proof that I'm not even close to bluffing?”

“NOOOO!” I scream which echoes very loudly in these caverns. I then break down and whimper some as I feebly tell her, “I believe you. There is not a doubt in my mind that you're willing to attack her.” My chin wrinkles as my face firms up. I stand a little taller as I ask her, “But to what end? I may believe you're willing to attack her now but that just makes me want to kill you even more. Regardless of all of your centuries of so-called wisdom or knowledge, it isn't a net positive to create a determined immortal enemy.”

“We're talking about dark magic here,” Demise counters. “Hatred is our strength. It helps us to channel it.”

My look turns to surprise as I ask her, “Then all of this is to merely teach me a lesson? You're trying to train me to master my new dark powers?”

“Correct,” Demise confirms with an emphatic nod to me. “Through you, the ShadowBolts will gain its greatest boon, but these things take time to fully ripen. Magic is always channeled through emotion, Miss Dust. That applies to all of us, not just the unicorns.” She shakes her head as she adds, “But emotion is merely the fuel. Focus and intention shapes that magic to its final form, so there needs to be a balance between raw, explosive fury and cold and calculating logic. The proper mix of hot and cold energy produces motion, Miss Dust. You must have worked with the weather enough to know that much at least.”

“There has to be a better way to accomplish this without attacking her,” I plead.

Demise points her pipe at me as she says, “The fact that you keep arguing for her survival proves to me that I must do this.” She applies the pipe back down as she continues. “If she truly was just some worthless trash to you, then yeah. I really would be wasting my time with her.” She shakes her head. “But no. You actually are invested in this one. The pain of her loss will be the catalyst to fuel the fire of your dark magic indefinitely. It wouldn't even matter if you later forget about her as the centuries roll on. By then, you'll still have mastered the initial lesson. That benefit will endure across all time. She will not.”

“Then why can't we just turn her?” I counter propose. I don't really want to resort to this option, but that's not the point. I have to keep stalling her. “With both of us turned, you'll have twice as many servants.” I nod to the statue behind her as I add, “She will have twice as many servants.” I tilt my head as I ask her, “You do wish to please her, right? Isn't that the whole point of these little get-togethers?”

Demise looks back at the statue behind her then back at me with a coy grin as she says, “Nice try there. Using my devotion for her to make your point is a clever strategy, but I experienced and practiced debates with some of the greatest philosophers of all time. You're not going to pull the wool over my eyes.” She cocks her head at me. “I'll admit, though, I didn't think you'd be desperate enough to even try that. That's not in character for you.” She straightens her head. “But then again, we're talking about your greatest attachment here. Love can evoke some crazy things in a pony. Believe me, I know.”

“Even if you established the motive of my words, does that, alone, invalidate my point?” I challenge her.

I'm shocked and amazed that I made a point good enough to cause her to just stare at me for a few seconds in silence. It's as if she's mulling over the point I just made.

But she keeps staring at me while she's at it. Maybe it's not that she's thinking over my point but rather assessing something else.

“What are you hiding?” Demise eventually wonders. “You're still no strategist, but you are up to something.”

“I'm trying to save the life of my sister,” I tell her while choking down the panic I feel because of how acute her observations are. I shake my head as I say, “I don't know why you'd call that a hidden motivation. I thought I made my intentions perfectly clear.”

“That much is obvious,” Demise agrees. “But you're stalling too.”

“I made that point from the beginning as well! I'm stalling you from killing her. I'm stalling her fate from death as long as I can. That way I can enjoy her compony longer.”

“No,” Demise shakes her head in denial, then rethinks that policy before she amends, “Well, actually, yes and no. Very little of what you're saying is an outright lie, but it hides another layer of truth.” She scans around her. “Be vigilant, girls. Something more is going on here.”

As soon as she said that, an explosion of activity erupts around us. Reflective crystal grows all around us and encloses upon us in two seconds flat. While it grew, potentially anypony, except my sister, could have fled from the prison before it got completed, but I think they just stood there, stunned, because it was so unexpected.

Before we know it, we are surrounded on all sides by an inverted spherical mirror, or more like a hemisphere. The ground beneath us is now reflective too, but it still remains flat while above us is domed. The results of all of this is a crazy set of infinite reflections. It's similar to what happens if a mirror faces another mirror, except in this case the mirror is all around us. Any source of light, like those billowing dark green and purple clouds on some sticks, reflect around us like a field of infinite stars. That light also bends and twists depending on the angle one views the mirror surface all around us.

It takes me a few seconds to notice that none of the vamponies trapped within this mirror prison isn’t casting any reflection themselves. As a result, it makes their true position a bit easier to tell. However, the same cannot be said about their uniforms. All around us, to the sides, below, and above us is an infinite reflective field of the clothes they are wearing in motion with apparently no pony wearing them.

The same cannot be said about the Nightmare Moon statue, my suspended sister, the rope carrying her, the torches and its light, and even me. I see infinite copies of myself all around us, except there is one curious detail about that. My reflected images are partially faded about fifty percent. It makes every reflected image of me look transparent like a ghost.

Moments later, we're caught off guard by yet another surprise. My sister glows with a golden aura for a few seconds. Before any of us have the time to fully register that, she vanishes in a puff of showering sparkles.

In other words, mage teleportation.

I am relieved to see that my sister is now delivered out of harm's way, but that also raises a question within me. If Doctor Horseling could teleport all along, why did he need the rented pegasus chariot? Is there a limited range to the spell, at least for him? And if that is so, just where did he teleport her to?

Well, wherever she is now, it is likely a better than this place, at least for the moment.

“What's going on?” one of the demented mares around me cries out in panic. In fact, they all do to some degree. That is why I am now free from their direct restraint, but not free of the crystal mirror prison. As the Brood of mares, with the exception of Demise, rushes about like a chicken with its head cut off, I observe a curious sight. There is something strange about their movement I can't quite put my hoof on. I see them moving, but the infinite copies of their uniforms along with the twisted, reflected light everywhere confuses my naked eye to their true position.

Feeling curious, I venture my way to where I suspect the boundary of the barrier actually is. With the infinite reflections all around us, it is very hard to tell, but when I arrive at where one of the edges of the barrier is, I reach forward with a hoof and make an interesting discovery. My hoof actually passes right through the barrier. There appears to be more free space beyond it. As for the mirror itself, I feel a slight cooling sensation when my hoof passes through it.

With my newly discovered information, I decide to test a hypothesis of mine. I step through the mirror fully. In doing so, I notice nothing stops me. I don't notice the crossing of the threshold at all beyond a slight cooling sensation. What ends up happening, I think, is I arrived on the opposite side of the prison and thus still trapped inside the prison. In other words, these mirrors have effectively created a dimensionally inverted space. Stepping through any end of it will always cause us to arrive at the exact opposite end. We could trot or fly in any direction we want and we'll just keep repeating a loop of trotting or flying through the same physical space over and over again unless we collide with something else solid in here.

Now I assess the rest of the trapped occupants. Doing so teaches me that, besides me and Demise, everypony else is panicking and galloping about randomly. Some are flying too, but they just keep looping through the same physical space. Because of the visual effects in here, it's really hard to tell exactly how large this prison is.

Demise seems to be the only one calm here. In fact, she might even be more calm than me. Clearly she's not happy by the expression on her face, but she does not let it overwhelm her. Instead of that, she is simply assessing her new surroundings and taking everything in. She, too, notices how the other mares just keep looping through the same physical space unless they collide with each other or the statue. I then notice her studying my reaction to all of this. That probably informs her I was somewhat prepared for this surprise, but not completely. The Doctor didn't give me any of these details. Now that I'm seeing how powerful the results are, I am no longer questioning the strength of the spell or spellcaster. He's obviously a really darn good mage, but it also now makes sense to me why he'd need extra time to build a spell this advanced.

Then a grin grows on my face when it occurs to me what would probably happen if a bright light, like the Solar Flare spell, would do in a mirror environment like this.

“You!” Demise cries out as she points an accusing hoof at me. The very next second, I'm startled by the fact she suddenly zips up to stand next to me in the blink of an eye. She moved so fast that it's almost as if she teleported right beside me. Once she's in my face, she barrels down on me as she says insistently, “You know something about this spell.”

“Less than I'd care to know,” I truthfully admit. “And I know I'm now trapped in here with the rest of you.”

Saying that causes Demise to realize something. She looks about at the rest of us as she takes stalk of what is left within the prison. With my sister, Charity, now gone, there is a noticeable pattern to the rest of the “un”life forms that are left in this prison. A pattern that my presence actually supports. When she realizes this, she gives me another careful look as if trying to determine if I had something to do with this or if I'm simply another surprised victim.

Eventually another game-changing event occurs. Doctor Van Horsling steps through one of the mirrors to join us inside. As soon as he does, he wastes no time by already floating a crystal out of his trench coat that looks like Princess Celestia's cutie mark. I barely catch him giving me a brief nod before he ignites the energy stored within the crystal. Because of his earlier warning to me, I know to immediately close my eyes.

The very next second, I hear a dozen screams erupt from all around us. At the same time, I feel pulsating warmth penetrate through my hide. It feels just like the dawn of the natural sun. While it is relatively soothing to me, it's obviously causing agony to the others.

Even with my eyes closed, since I can still sense the energy of everypony around us, I cautiously move in front of the Doctor and ready myself to defend him. He told me earlier that they should be blinded and probably stunned for a short while. That gives me enough time to get into position.

“I healed some of your sister's injuries,” I hear the Doctor whisper behind me which causes me to shift an ear above my head in his direction. “And I transported her to a place where she'll recover. She should be safe for now. We just need to make sure that we survive . . . and that these abominations don't!”

I nod firmly as I slowly open my eyes and scan the others ahead of me. When I do so, I keep myself in tense battle readiness.

“So this is your choice?!” Demise asks me in relative astonishment. As she speaks, I notice she's the only one of her Brood that never screamed. She also stood her ground. She is flinching as if in intense pain and she has her eyes cracked open just a bit. She's occasionally shivering in pain too, but some of the others are on the ground entirely and writhing in agony. “You're siding with him? You brought him here to destroy us?”

“He gave me more options than you ever did!” I bark back at her harshly. “And, unlike you gals, he didn't attack my sister. He even saved her. I WARNED you that attacking her would only set me against you, but you didn't think much of that threat at the time.” I lean towards her hard as I ask in a grunt tone, “Do you think I'm a threat to you now?”

I visibly see great fury sink deep into her eyes. She also tenses in some places and clenches her jaw, but to her credit, she keeps firm control over her emotions. I can actually see her hot fury transform into a cold one. There is now a sharply calculating look in her eyes as she takes stalk of everything around her, including me, the Doctor, and the floating crystal causing the Solar Flare spell.

While she appraises the local situation, I see a familiar swirl of energy in her eyes that makes the edges of her iris and the rim of her entire eyes to gain a tiny dark purplish shimmering glow just like I saw when she was on stage at Pony Island. The primary difference is I can keep my focus this time without getting dizzy. Perhaps it is because I have become the same race as her now.

Despite how furious I am at her, and that for many reasons, I also feel a chill sink down my spine at the open demonstration of how masterfully Demise was able to reign in her intense furious emotions and visibly transform it into a cold weapon. I have never seen a pony more dangerous than her. She has earned my respect for that and, while I hate to admit it, also some fear. What I have seen from her just now proves to me I can never get under her hide enough to secure a psychological advantage against her.

What's worse, the rest of her Brood crawls back up to their hooves and starts to get reorganized. I know that with every second they are being blasted by the magical rays from the crystal, they are constantly having their dark energy strength zapped away. Time is on our side, but we'll have to endure long enough for the spell to make a difference. In the meantime, I have over a dozen super powerful ponies in front of me who are all determined to cause me, and my partner, great harm. Having super abilities of my own doesn't feel nearly as good when it is measured against over a dozen who are my equals, or better, and who are also dead set against us.

I swallow hard because I know we're about to face the hardest part of this adventure.

Suddenly action explodes all around me. Movement blurs as I struggle to defend myself from many flying limbs. What is worse, as bat ponies, they don't need to touch the ground so they are able to swing all of their limbs at me almost at once. I can do that too, but I'm vastly outnumbered and maybe even outclassed here.

It's really hard to tell exactly what happened to me. All I know is I'm suffering from strikes all over my body, including some areas I successfully parried a blow. Their strikes are still so hard that some of the kinetic energy transfers into my hooves anyway, thus making them more pained and numb as the fight continues. I also barely register being tossed about like a ragdoll many times. I struggle to counter it and I don't even have time to think when I do. I just either try a counter flap to reverse my momentum or at least curve my course to dodge around a dozen blows thrown my way.

As for my partner, it's hard to tell how he is doing other than the fact I know the Solar Flare spell continues to endure. It's actually one of the most noticeable things trapped with us in this prison.

Most of the motion ends when I end up being tackled by my opponents. When that happens, things are still enough for me to pause and assess my situation for the first time since the fight started.

Demise never moved into combat in the first place. Instead, she's hanging back and continues to assess everything. It takes me a moment to also realize that she is constantly speaking, but the words she's uttering are subsonic. If it weren't for my vampony augmentation, I wouldn't have heard it. Even with my augmentation, I can't understand what she is saying. It's in some kind of other language. It sounds like a whisper and kind of sounds arcane. It's as if she's whispering some kind of spell.

I notice that I have eight out of twelve of our opponents on top of me aside from Demise.

Meanwhile four continue to attack my partner, but he seems to be holding out for several reasons. One, the mares seem to be in even more pain as they near him, or more accurately to say, as they near his floating crystal. Two, they have a harder time seeing him as they near his crystal. Three, he occasionally blocks with some kind of hemispherical shield which is made of light. This is being projected by another piece of jewelry that also resembles Celestia's cutie mark, only much smaller this time and made of both precious metals and gems. When the mares strike it, they scream in pain and withdraw their hooves which appear to be burned as a result of contacting the light shield. Sometimes he bashes the light shield directly against their bodies while they are briefly stunned with pain after they struck the shield themselves. The results are about the same. They recoil from him in horror. Their flesh is burned wherever he struck them and, noticeably, they are not regenerating wherever the burns are.

Doctor Horseling moves like a dispassionate, efficient machine. While most of his face is hidden by his hat, what parts I do see seem set like a stone mask. He, too, is keeping a professional control over his emotions also to the point of being scary.

On the other hoof, it's very clear to me that Doctor Horseling is moving significantly slower than his opponents. A few nicks and bashes against him are successfully delivered his way, but unlike his opponents, he doesn't recover nearly as fast. Seeing this proves to me why he normally is more patient with his opponents and tries to take them out one by one. He only has four out of thirteen on his flank and he's still overwhelmed despite all of his advantages.

Seeing this makes me realize that his strategy is not sustainable, and every blow he suffers also threatens his concentration. If that falls, it is likely the Solar Flare and the mirror prison will collapse simultaneously. And when that happens . . .

I don't want to think about it. These mares have already shown me how cruel they can be. I could only imagine how much worse they might be when they make a more determined effort. Now that I've fought them this far, no doubt the consequences of failure against them will be very severe.

It might not just be my sister that will suffer next time. All of Equestria will suffer in one way or another!

“This is for your sister,” I recall Doctor Horseling telling me. “When the time comes, lock that thought in your head and heart so tightly that you don't have room to feel anything else no matter how much you want to.”

Clarity suddenly sinks into me when I recall that. It reminds me that I don't need to overwhelm myself with the big picture. Saving just one pony is enough for me. She is why I quit The Washouts, and she's what I'm fighting for now. If I fall, she's next.

I WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN!

I steadily raise a scream of determination then hold it at the top of my lungs. I hold that shrill battle cry as I summon every inch of my strength, but unlike before, my opponents have been steadily weakening ever since the Solar Flare started. Rage blinds me as the love for my sister seems to keep on supplying me with the strength to continue this. This war of attrition very gradually swings in my favor, but I know I have to hurry! If Doctor Horseling falls, by far my most powerful ally in this battle, it's all over! Any blow he suffers may be sufficient to knock out his concentration.

I don't notice it at first, but a burst of red electricity starts to crawl all along my hide. It actually damages those “ponies” who are struggling to pin me down. They continue their effort, but now it's costing them more. At the same time, my screaming roar starts to become multi-tonal as if I'm a dozen monsters all roaring together.

They had all the leverage, too, but despite that, I eventually manage to crawl back on my hooves. Once I do, I shake them off by flailing my limbs enough to buck them off. Some of them I also manage to smash into the ground or into each other.

After that, there is another explosion of action, but this time I'm starting to win the upper hoof. I blast away from my initial position with a trail of red lightning of hate magic following my wake! I channel my fury and draw in every inch of dark magic I've accumulated since my recent transformation. I even channel the hunger I've been feeling across these past several days and use it to fuel my savage, animalistic instincts except I keep a clear focus on my targets.

I fly past Doctor Horseling and capture two of his assailants in my forehooves. As I continue forward, I loop to the other side of the bubble we're still trapped in. When I return to my original position, I chuck both of my trapped opponents at the remaining two that are attacking the Doctor. After I do so, he teleports away, but not far. He teleported himself back into a standing position and in a new area within the prison. Beyond that, little else has changed.

Several mares that I threw off me earlier now start to focus on Doctor Horseling. I zip around and curve back to them. Now my limbs are flying at them and, in addition, I flap strongly at some of them and use the wind projected from my wings to knock them off course. In doing so, I occasionally cause them to crash into each other.

This helps to remind me that there is one advantage I had over them all along, even as a mortal, and that is air superiority. They simply aren't as good of a flier as I am. They never had that focused training like I did. Now that that has come to my attention, I use it to start messing with them.

So I zip and curve around them, occasionally delivering chops and uppercuts as I do so. I use my momentum in my favor while my maneuverability outclasses their own. They try to keep up with me, but they just end up stumbling about. Even if they had half the flying skills that I do, they aren't coordinated as a group. They each are just doing their own thing which, more often than not, ends in their detriment.

So I continue to zip about and roundhouse kick one of them to collide with another. I grab another of my opponents and use her as a shield against yet another opponent. Following that, I bash my “living” shield against that same opponent before launching her like a missile at another opponent who tries to attack my partner. Doing that canceled that threat.

Meanwhile I notice my partner recovering a bit. He must have drunk a healing potion while I wasn't looking. In doing so, he's healing fast before my eyes as if he's resting for several days in mere seconds. Still, I need to keep in mind that kind of recovery is produced artificially. It's power will run out, and I don't know how many of those potions he has left. Supposedly he used some earlier for my sister to help her recover too. I'm not complaining about that, but that means he has less for himself now.

I hear the subsonic whispers of Demise pick up again. Very soon after that, the tactics of my opponents changes a bit. They basically continue what they've done before except they're now more organized about it. It is then that I realize she's been whispering strategy to them all along in a language I don't understand. Perhaps her words have empowered them in other ways as well.

Because of this change in tactics, I am momentarily put on the defensive again. My attempts to dodge and curve in the air remain above what they can do, but I end up on the receiving end of other mares as I do so since they are starting to anticipate my movements. It's like they are constantly trying to herd me into a trap between them and it does occasionally connect. However, because of my blind rage this time, I barely feel the pain. Not only that, I heal from the damage they cause only a few moments later.

As the battle continues, their augmented abilities continue to be stripped away. It gradually gets more noticeable as they fly at me more sluggishly, hit more softly even if they do connect, and recover more slowly when they are struck. I can see, from the way they are making labored breathing and have sweat pouring down them, that the symptoms they are suffering very closely resemble a heatstroke.

Still, they are determined, and they fight to their very best ability all the way down. It's interesting to see how they adapted during the fight and therefore slowed the rate of their tactical loss, but time is not on their side. Every breath is labored. Every swing of a hoof strains them. Every wing flap gets slower, and every blow against them gradually counts for more, especially if they happen to collide with Doctor Horseling’s energy shield.

As the battle noticeably wears down, I end up grabbing one of my opponents and flying in a straight line super fast. As I loop through the mirror prison over and over again, the opponent I've grasped gets burned with the red lightning of my own wake. When it weakens her, I end up shoving her face into the smooth mirror floor and press her against it with most of my weight as I continue to fly super fast. Doing so causes her face to disintegrate into a long bloody trail due to the rapid friction. When her whole head is gone, I stand on her body and basically use it as a surfboard in order to continue pressing her body against the bloody smear until about half her body is gone. After that, I kick it up and launch it at a whole group of her own allies, thus knocking them all down.

When I stop, I snap my gaze at another opponent who desperately launches herself at me, but clearly without the kind of strength or speed she started with in the beginning of this fight. When she gets to me, I duck a bit, grab her, then use her own momentum against her to launch her past me. Her speed instantly triples as a result. When she loops back at me from the other side, I spin about and violently kick her head. I end up spinning it one-hundred and eighty degrees with a sickening cracking sound. The kick also reverses her momentum and launches her right back at the rest of her allies who are busy trying to get themselves back up only to be knocked down yet again.

Finally there is another pause in the battle. During that time, I am heaving very heavily due to my raw hatred and effort I spent. I am initially in a crouched position but snap my gaze up at them and I glare at them with savage fury. In doing so, I saw them glow a bit, but I realize the red glow came from me somehow.

This time I crawl up to my hooves slowly then stalk my way over to them. My heavy breathing continues.

“Nightmare Night,” I chant to them as I gradually tower above them. “What a thrill.”

Down below me, the mares are now all shivering with fright. All except Demise who continues to stand and analyze me further back.

“Give me some-thing fun to KILL!!” I roar at them. My monstrous voice continues to be multi-tonal and rough when I do that.

“Lightning,” Doctor Horseling calls behind me. I snap my gaze back at him in pure fury but I calm down a bit when I notice who it is. He slowly shakes his head at me and tells me in a firm and commanding tone, “Enough.”

At first, I do not understand why he made that request, but then I gaze outward at my infinite other reflections of myself. When I do so, I see the red lightning cracking all over my body, especially my mane and tail. I also see it zapping between my eyes on occasion and there's also a red glow around the edges of my eyes and my iris. Moreover, I see myself in bat pony form. I have grown two long fangs in my upper teeth, my wings have turned into leathery bat wings, the shape of my head is a bit more angular, and the fur off the tips of my ears is longer.

Seeing that made me realize how dangerously close I came to embracing the dark potential within me too much. It helped for an emergency boost, but we clearly got the upper hoof now. Time to dial it back some before I fully lose myself. I certainly don’t wish to be stuck in savage mode.

So I close my eyes and crack my neck as I swing my head from side to side. I work to calm myself down. It feels like it works. I can feel myself physically transforming somewhat.

Then I gaze down balefully at the still shivering mares below me as I tell them with a biting edge of sarcasm, “Happy Nightmare Night.” I hind kick at them scornfully without really connecting then turn about to stalk towards the only vampony who hasn't fallen to her knees yet, their leader Demise. She is close to collapsing, though. As she backs off from me, I see her legs struggling to support her weight. I also see the heavy labored breathing she's making which is sometimes punctuated by a cough, likely due to both fear and a heatstroke.

I pause in my approach towards her, and she pauses as well, when we notice new activity picking up. I hear the tingle of magic behind me so I cautiously look over my right shoulder while still aiming a ear at Demise just in case she tries anything while I am not looking at her, but apparently what I am looking at has captured her attention as well.

What we see is one of the vamponies floating off of the ground, carried by the Doctor's golden magic. That vampony tries to struggle against the magic a bit, but by now she's too feeble to offer much resistance. I also notice the doctor forcefully spreading all of that mare's legs apart, thus making her a wide open target. When I hear a cocking sound, I look to the Doctor himself and notice he is floating some kind of crossbow ahead of him except it is armed with unusual ammunition. In this case it looks like a wooden stake, so maybe it would be more accurate to call that weapon a stake launcher.

I widen my eyes at the sight of this. Even though this is the first time I've ever witnessed something like this outside of a comic book, what it implies makes my stomach turn. It's one thing to read about this in a comic, and quite another to realize somepony is actually about to die soon because of this.

“I warn you,” I recall the Doctor once said, “they might look like old and decayed corpses by that point, but I assure you they could still regenerate if the spell stops and the proper steps aren't taken to finish them off for good.”

“Which is?” I checked.

“Leave that to me,” he instructed me grimly.

I shake my head to clear that thought. I feel uncomfortable merely recalling that concept.

“You're making a big mistake,” Demise warns me, which brings my focus right back to her. When she has my attention, she shakes her head as she says, “You don't know what you're giving up.” She winces as she asks me, “Do you think that everything here is all black and white? That we're the bad gals and he's the hero? Do you think we've done nothing across all these centuries except take and take?”

“Ahhhhhhh,” I wince one eye at her questioningly as I ask her, “Haven't you? I mean, you are the one who said the goal here is to do nothing other than ruling, feeding, torturing, and put Nightmare Moon in charge. I wasn't aware of any other goal beyond that. Certainly not a benign one.”

“You fool!” Demise accuses with a spat. “How narrow minded of you. It has always been a benefit to us to also strengthen the society we later intend to rule. Across all of these centuries, we've done far more than simply feeding upon the populace. That is only a small percentage of what we do.”

We both pause when we hear a click, a flying whistling sound, a thwack, then an abhorrent death wail that will very likely haunt my nightmares. How appropriate for a cult that reveres Nightmare Moon. They really do their job all too well, even in the jaws of defeat.

I flinch, but I also struggle not to turn my head and look back at the carnage because I know what I would see would do much worse than merely making my stomach turn. The Doctor was right. Punishing these cretins and defending ourselves from them is one thing, but actually killing them makes me deeply cringe. Nothing like this exists in pony society except in some works of fiction. It just feels so thoroughly antithetical to our most basic nature as ponies. I know we're only doing this to put an end to their killings, but still. I feel very uncomfortable right now.

Demise appears to need a moment to recover from this blow too, but when she does, she looks back at me narrowly as she continues her lecture. “The knowledge and wisdom we've accumulated across these centuries can be far more valuable to us if we do more than merely hoard it. There are many we learned from across that time by listening, interacting, and quiet contemplation in our coffins. Being as old as some of us are, we've witnessed the growth of entire societies like watching little children slowly mature, and we've nurtured that potential across that time in many ways. A few words here, a few clues there. Some of us are the muses that wisely avoided the credit. Some of the greatest philosophers, teachers, political leaders, revolutionaries, visionaries, artists, entertainers, and healers learned from our subtle tips to them. You think that the only thing we've ever done is take lives?”

Behind me, I hear the Doctor fire his crossbow again. The same chain of sounds repeats.

“We've given tips and clues to medical professionals as well across all that time,” Demise goes on. “Entire plagues have been halted because of our timely and subtle aid. Each instance of that alone more than makes up for the loss we caused. Any one of the ponies we secretly saved might be one of your ancestors or related to others that you care about. Are you getting what I'm saying? Your entire family line might not have even existed if it weren't for our help.”

Her new argument makes me pause in thought. If she's telling the truth, this fact feels important.

“And we've done this for more than selfish reasons. There was that too, I'll admit,” Demise puts forward. “Naturally any good farmer would not allow a plague to spread across his or her crops. If we allowed that to happen and continue to spread unabated, then there would be fewer ponies for us to feed upon.”

I narrow my eyes at her as I accuse, “Which is why you did it! You admitted that yourself!”

Behind me, another vampony bites the dust.

“Creating a stronger society benefits us too,” Demise quickly points out. “And, of course, some of us can also feel affection and pride in watching our livestock grow in a multitude of ways. When they create new art, we can enjoy it too. From paintings to music to theater arts to magic shows . . . all of it is more than enough incentive for us to help them grow stronger and to feel inspired. Of course what we've done benefits us, but it benefits them too. It is mutual growth which means we have twice the motive to continue our tactics. The mere fact that you can logically understand why helping these societies to grow also benefits us is also why you can believe me. If it makes perfect sense why we would do this, isn't it logical to conclude that I'm telling you the truth?”

Another vampony bites the dust.

At this point I happen to glance at one of the infinite reflections of Doctor Van Horseling all around us. At first it chills my heart to see his face remaining calm with stoney dispassion as he continues his grim work, but then I notice a detail I overlooked before. Upon closer inspection, I notice a single tear trail down his cheeks. Noticing that does very little to alter my perception of his outward appearances, but that one detail I caught totally changes my inner perception of him. It tells me that what he's doing now really does pain him, but he struggles to keep it down for the moment so he won't be distracted from continuing to do what he feels he must.

When I realize that, I suddenly don't feel as bad. It also makes me realize that, when he said he would deal the final blow to these wicked mares, I think the reason he said that was so that I don't have to deal with the guilt of performing the deed myself. He wants to keep my hooves clean and my soul as innocent as possible. As for himself, since he's already done the deed before, one more kill will indeed add to the burden of his soul, but he carries it bravely for the sake of protecting others in multiple ways.

Now I really respect him.

“So if you can reach the chain of reasoning based on what I've told you, can't you also reach the same conclusion? We are necessary for the preservation and growth of society,” Demise continues to argue. “When most other ponies read about history in textbooks, with the exception of the illustrious princesses, that is all they can draw from that experience. To the mortals, those words are merely lines in a book. We, however, have actually lived through that time and that carries a sort of gravity and weight to that experience that most others simply cannot fully appreciate. We are living records of our history and traditions. We carry with us the very spirit of everything that has come before . . . and HE IS KILLING IT AT THIS VERY MOMENT!” Demise screeches. “GET HIM TO STOP! PLEASE! HE'S KILLING YOUR BROOD, TOO.”

Another vampony bites the dust.

I growl at her as I ask tightly, “You think I care?”

“Of course you do,” Demise immediately counters. “It's written all over your face, and I know it's also why you've attacked us. You did it because you care about the mortals too. As misguided as your actions are, I can at least respect your motives because we feel that way too. We are the ones who were always there to remind mortals of the importance of certain decisions because we were there . . . standing beside their ancestors as they struggled with many difficult decisions. They prayed for guidance, and we answered. We saved the mortals so many times, so imagine the consequences of the future when that benefit suddenly and totally stops! What disaster looms on the next horizon that will hit them all with full force next time now that we're no longer there to help guide and protect them?”

I feel spooked now because she does kind of have a point. All of her arguments rely on the supposition that she's telling the truth, but she also explained her own motives well enough to sound convincing even on that front. When I simply imagine what a vampony could do in the most positive context, the results are staggering. Indeed, it's probably very difficult for a mere mortal to imagine without actually having to live throughout all of that time.

What if she, and her Brood, were there to halt the invasion forces of foreign hostiles? Maybe not a single other mortal ever saw that, which is the point. They want to remain anonymous because it draws less opposition against them. But, if the only witnesses there are the hostile invasion force, there's no reason to hold back anymore. Indeed, they'd go out of their way to completely destroy any potential witness there. If this was done at night, even a small hoofful of vamponies could thoroughly trounce an entire mortal army with ease if that army wasn't armed with the correct tools and knowledge to properly deal with the threat before them. After all, the vamponies are so powerful that they keep the giant eels around in these caverns to serve like mere guard dogs.

Thinking that through one step further, I also wonder what if next time those same vamponies aren't there to protect us from the next invasion force? How many deaths would occur then? How many have already been prevented by them in the past? Who wouldn't have even existed today without the aid they gave back then for both selfish and selfless reasons?

I'm really not accustomed to being a deep thinker, but I'll do it when the necessity calls for it, as this moment clearly does.

As I think on it further, death continues to be dispensed behind me, much to the escalating chagrin of their cult leader in front of me.

It's really hard to say how history would have unfolded had these ShadowBolt cultists not been there. Those they have killed could have been equally important and, moreover, that is a cost that I know will continue if they are left alone. Is it worth feeding off the milk of a beast if one knows they'll occasionally have to sacrifice their young for it? Not to mention how horrible the deaths they caused were. It feels even worse to imagine allowing that to continue over and over again, or to think about all those who suffered by these cultists hooves before.

I shake my head and coldly focus on Demise as I say, “The questionable help you've ever done, or could do, does not justify the horrendous slaying of the innocent. Anypony who beats on the innocent and the defenseless doesn’t have the luxury of also calling themselves a hero. Instead, they are complicated at best. Did you even try to make these same arguments to that boy you slew? And even if you did, do you think he would realistically say, 'Okay. You made a valid argument, so please take my life in the most violent and painful way possible.'”

“I'm not the one who made this world cruel!” Demise barks back.

I shake my head again as I say, “Nor are you the one who made it better either. As long as you and your kind live, you are indeed an unforgivable burden overall, so it is high time you and your filthy ilk die. Now it is your turn to make this sacrifice for the greater good of the world.” I lift my head up high and narrow my eyes as I scoff, “It doesn't feel so good . . . does it?”

“That includes you,” Demise retorts more desperately. “Are you so eager to march to that chopping block too?”

“I have an alternative,” I reply. “An option you forsook long ago. But, even if I didn't, I'd rather die than allow myself to kill others over and over again, especially in the overwhelmingly evil way you do it.” I shake my head. “I simply refuse to become a heartless monster like you. I'm so determined to make sure killing doesn't become pleasurable, or even comfortable, that I'd sooner give up my own life first. Are you also noble enough to say the same and actually mean it?”

In response, Demise hisses at me as her face transforms more bestial and bat-like. After that, she retreats in the reflection of the Nightmare Night statue. Curiously, she does not reappear after that.

“What the . . .?!” I exclaim, startled. I scan about to find her, but she seems to have utterly vanished.

Huh. I guess that makes sense the more I think about it. I can trust a trained magician, especially one with centuries of practice, to know the basic art of a good disappearing act. Given those facts, I'm going to assume she is still in the mirror prison but hidden somewhere.

Feeling a bit lost, I check on the progress the Doctor is making. When I do so, I see that he has six more mares to slay before he's finished. By then, those remaining six look like old and decayed corpses already. However, they are in far better shape than the other six. Those six disintegrated so much that they are nothing more than dust.

I find this observation interesting because that says something about how much dark magic their leader has. While these remaining six look like old and rotten corpses, Demise not only looks alive, but is able to move and talk. She was under that same constant pressure of the Solar Flare spell and for the same amount of time, but there is an obvious difference in results.

I screech, startled, when I feel a sudden explosion of dark energy nearby. I whip my head to look at the source. What I see is huge waves of blackish clouds swirling around the Nightmare Moon statue.

No! Wait. Actually the center of the activity is more localized behind the statue.

“Oh shit,” I hear my companion curse. “I should have known.”

Before I know it, two inky, lance-like bolts of energy curve around the black maelstrom and plunge into two nearby targets. One is the crystal the Doctor was hovering over him, and the other is at the caster himself. When the black lance strikes the crystal, it instantly shatters. When that happens, there is an intense explosion of light so bright that it just instantly incinerates the remaining ShadowBolt mares he hasn't gotten to yet.

Beyond a grunt of pain, though, I can't tell what happened to the Doctor himself because of the overwhelming flash of light and the intense wave of heat that passes through me. All of that only lasts a second though. When it passes, I scan about me to reassess the situation. To my dismay, the dark cloud of swirling energy still spirals behind the statue. Apparently the statue itself acted as a shield from the worst of the solar bomb's effects.

When I see that, it suddenly occurs to me where Demise was at. When she trotted into the image of the statue earlier, she must have looped around and hid herself behind the statue from my original perspective. Also, because she is a full vampony, she does not cast a reflection herself. At most, only her clothes would show up but, in this case, it is a black dress against a black background. That is one clever mare.

As for the Doctor, he collapses onto the ground and is cringing in pain. He crawls to one of the cave walls and rests his back against it. I see dark energy swirl around his body but, for some reason, it doesn't fully sink in. It's as if there is some kind of invisible barrier keeping the full impact of that type of attack from affecting him. Nevertheless, his loss of concentration also means the mirror prison spell has now collapsed. Because of that, Demise is potentially free.

Alarmed by that realization, I give an angry, frightened, and determined look over to the statue. It seems to me she is currently gathering the stored amount of energy from the statue. That just might be the only reason she's not fleeing right now. No doubt this means she is recovering all of her depleted strength at this very moment and then some. I had better stop her now before she has a chance to gain any more. Besides, that type of energy is likely to augment me as well. Maybe I can at least even the playing field.

But, before I charge into the black energy storm, Doctor Horseling calls out, “No! Come back. Don't get near that thing or you'll be swept inside.”

“But if I don't stop her now then-” I argue but he interrupts.

“It's already too late for that. All we can do now is prepare for what happens next. Come here,” he commands me.

I sigh in frustration but I also acquiesce. I crawl back next to him and ask upon arrival, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Going to be?” he emphasizes. “Probably, but I'm not okay right now.”

“How can I help?” I ask in a tone of alarm.

For the first time I have ever seen, he undoes the double buttons of his trench coat. Once he does, he looks down at his dark brown chest as he inspects himself. Upon doing so, I gasp when I notice the same mark he blessed me before I came into these caves is on him as well. It is currently glowing pretty brightly too, but it seems to be struggling to do so. A swirl of dark energy, which continues to float around his body, seems to be trying to attack his protection. As time goes on, the dark energy seems to weaken, but by then, it may have already done some damage.

“You're like me!” I gasp. “You have the mark on you too?”

He sighs before he admits, “Yeah, kid. It was given to me by my predecessor who then went on to teach me the ways of vampony hunting.” He shakes his head as he goes on to say, “By then, let's just say I had plenty of motivation to learn.”

“They tried to torture your loved ones too?” I guess sympathetically.

“Tried and succeeded,” he says with a very pained frown.

He then lets loose a very long breath and bonks his head on the cave wall behind him before saying, “Pony feathers. Sweet Celestia, what was I thinking? I should have known to go after the leader first! Shame on me.”

He gives a long, ashamed and frustrated growl. Meanwhile I just wordlessly remain beside him, uncertain of what to say in this situation. Already I have so much to mentally and emotionally process that I feel overwhelmed.

“Actually, I know what I was thinking,” he recalls. “I was waiting for the leader to weaken more before focusing on her. Doing it too soon might have been a waste of energy, and my concentration was already strained by that point. In the meantime I was focusing on her lackeys so she'd have less to fall back upon, even if something like this,” he nods to the statue, “happens.

“Still, though, with the presence of the statue also being caught within the mirror prison, I should have kept in mind that it always remained an option for her.” He shakes his head. “All of those years of stored dark energy sitting right there, ready for her to take advantage of it.”

He sighs again before looking at me and says, “Let that be a lesson for you too, lass. No matter what profession you pursue and how long you've been at it, there is always room to grow, and there is always room to make mistakes. Being old simply means remembering more of that.”

“Why did she not do this sooner, then?” I query. “Why wait this long? She just stood there while you picked off members of her Brood one by one. One would think she'd resort to this sooner if she knew she had access to it all along.”

“She was saving that energy for something else,” he answers me, “and she didn't store enough energy for that purpose yet.” He nods to the statue again. “That energy was being accumulated for the express purpose of restoring Nightmare Moon herself.”

I widen my eyes in shock as I ask in horror, “They were planning on using that stored energy on Princess Luna to turn her back into Nightmare Moon?”

“Probably,” he says as he floats out his bubble pipe. Using his hooves, he also pours more soap into the pipe before putting the bottle back under his coat and floating his pipe to his lips. He proceeds to blow some bubbles from the pipe for a few seconds which visibly seems to calm his nerves. No doubt this is some sort of ritual for him to relieve some stress.

“If she knew that they didn't have enough energy stored there for the purpose she intended it for, what would she accomplish by using it now?” I question him.

“Desperate blackguards are pushed to use desperate measures,” he answers. “By using and absorbing the stored energy now before it was fully ready, she is basically abandoning, or better to say postponing, its original purpose.” He gives me a firm and grim look. “Or perhaps I should say that her plan has taken on another course. By absorbing the energy herself, she is now the new target of the spell instead of Luna.”

“Which means?” I ask nervously.

“We're about to face an imperfect copy of Nightmare Moon,” he tells me in a tone of exhaustion. “Or, more to the point, you will face that. I have to retreat right now.”

My eyes really explode widely as I ask, “Excuse me?!”

“It has taken most of my magical strength to resist the cursed energy bolt that struck me earlier,” he informs me. “If I remain, I would be a liability to you anyway.”

“Then where are you going to go?” I ask him in concern.

“To holy ground,” he answers me. “From there I can recharge myself faster and recover from the damage already inflicted at the same time.”

I shrug as I say with acceptance, “That sounds efficient, but in the meantime, what am I supposed to do about her?”

“Stall her,” he answers. “And survive. Wait for me to return and back you up. When I do, I'll make sure to be more prepared. Also remember that, wherever you lure her, make sure it is free from any other innocent targets. The canyons above should suffice for that.”

I nod as I say, “Uh-huh. And?”

“Take this,” he replies as he fishes something else out of his inner coat pocket. What he gives me appears to be a potion vial. When I look at it, at first I think it is zap apple jam, but then I notice it is too bright for that. The rainbow colors in the vial also swirl somewhat even if I keep the vial perfectly still.

“What is this?” I check with him.

“Pure rainbows from Cloudsdale,” he answers then shrugs. “Or maybe from Winsome Falls, but the exact location is beside the point. What is important for you to understand is this is basically concentrated light magic. It might as well be dew drops from the Tree of Harmony itself. If substances like this manage to hit her, she’ll react as if it’s made of acid.”

When I hear that, I privately berate myself for not recognizing this. I should have known this is the pure essence of rainbow. I spent quite a bit of time in Cloudsdale. Shame on me.

However, what I didn't know is that it could be used as a weapon against vamponies. After all, I didn't know these are concentrated essences of pure light magic.

Come to think of it, does that, in any way, explain why it's so spicy?

He firmly applies a hoof on me to lure back my attention. Once he has it, he tells me, “All I want you to do is stall her until I get back, but while I am gone, you need to know that your greatest weapon against a being like this is light magic. Things like that don't just come in potion vials. It's also here.” He presses a hoof to my heart. I glance down at his hoof for a second before looking back at him. When I do, he goes on to say, “Your transformation into a vampony was never complete. It's also been suspended thanks to the mark I gave you, but you drew upon that magic earlier anyway against those other mares. I do understand that you were desperate at the time, and for what it's worth it did work, but ultimately it cannot be your primary weapon against a fiend like this. If you dare to use dark magic against her, you're only feeding her more of what she needs to thrive. Pain, fear, anger . . . all of it. Any magic fueled by negative emotions produces dark magic. Such a thing is a snack to the likes of her. Keep that in mind.”

I nod as I gain a distant and thoughtful look. Inwardly I'm also struggling against a sense of panic.

“To use light magic . . . you must focus on those you love,” he informs me. “Whoever they are or whatever they are, it does not matter as long as you have warm feelings for the subject. Keep that in your heart and draw it close to you. If you do this, you may yet find the strength necessary to face a demon like this.”

“Anything else I should know about her?” I check with him. “Some physiological or psychological advantage I can exploit?”

“Physiologically, she's still a vampony, unlike Luna,” he tells me. “That means she has all the strengths and weaknesses of such. Keep both of those points in mind.

“As for psychological, know that you'll be facing an aspect of Nightmare now, not Luna or Demise. As for Nightmare, she is a supreme narcissist and megalomaniac. You might get an advantage if you stroke or taunt her ego, but keep in mind that might only be reliable once because she's also not a stupid mare. As soon as she catches on to your tricks, she'll work to circumvent it. Nightmare Moon also frequently and deeply underestimates her opponent, but there tends to be an obvious reason for that. With her, you'll be facing off against a great deal of power. As you do, try your best not to feel intimidated. This one feeds off of fear like it's a delicious snack. That's partly why she is called Nightmare Moon.”

“So face off against overwhelming evil and power and not be scared at the same time? Something tells me this is going to be a very long Nightmare Night,” I groan wearily.

“Courage is the defense against fear,” he informs me in a very serious tone. “And love is the fuel for courage. Constantly remind yourself precisely why it is important for you to remain strong as you face her. While you do that, know that time is secretly on your side. If not from me, then at least due to the soon rising dawn.”

“Right,” I acknowledge as I swallow my fears and gaze at the Nightmare Moon statue. By then, I notice a great deal of the energy that was swirling around that area earlier has since consolidated into a tighter, mostly pitch black ball of energy with small swirls of crackling red energy within it. The center of the black ball also looks like a sideways evil eye.

“We don't have much time,” Doctor Horseling realizes grimly when he beholds the same sight. “That dark egg is about to hatch.”

“Does this at least mean all their hopes for poisoning Luna's soul are now dashed?” I ask with desperate hope as I look back at him.

“Delayed at the very least,” he answers me. “If we can actually defeat this one, then that plan is further delayed indefinitely.”

“Good to know,” I say with a nod of acknowledgment as I look back at the black ball that has grown even more cracks of crimson energy. “Score one for the good guys, I guess.”

“Every step towards victory is important to acknowledge, but we cannot rest on our laurels until the battle is fully won,” he tells me.

Chapter 10: The Final Nightmare

I bravely stride closer to the swirling dark vortex that is the red cracked, evil eye. Those cracks crawl across its entire surface, marking a hatching process is imminent.

Suddenly, I hear a popping sound behind me but it ends in a sparking then sizzling sound. Alarmed, I look over my right shoulder then widen my eyes at the sight of Doctor Van not only still there, not only flinching in a greater amount of pain, but also has rising smoke coming off the tip of his horn. He had taken his wide brim hat off as if to make it easier for him to cast that spell and it still failed. I soon realize he must not have enough energy to use that spell right now.

I witness him bonk his head against the cave wall behind him before opening his eyes with an expression on his face as if to say with neutral acceptance, “Well . . . I'm screwed.” He then looks over to me with an apologetic look as if to say, “Sorry, kid. I guess I won't be helpful to you after all.”

After the horror of this realization sinks into me, I gain a desperately thoughtful look. If Doctor Van can't teleport out, then he is still here and remains in danger. If I'm to have any chance to spare him, I need to keep Nightmare's attention locked on me. Moreover, I need to lure her far away from him as soon as possible. If I do that, he might have a chance to make it.

But even if I succeed to do all that, that still means I'll have to face Nightmare alone . . . somehow.

The ball of black energy in front of me finally erupts open. Instinctively, I raise my left wing in front of me to shield my face and my body. Fortunately no actual shrapnel is launched at me, but what I have done is still a reflex reaction anyway.

After that, I slowly lower my left wing and peer over the edge. When I do, I lock sight on what appears to be black, vaporous smoke slowly consolidating into the form of a slightly transparent and shadowy looking mare. The image of tiny twinkling starlight flashes at various points of this body. It's especially condensed in what would appear to be the mane and tail. Those two parts of her also trail away from her like leaking smoke. Soon I observe the startling sight of a pair of eyes pop wide open. At first the irises are large, but they soon narrow into sideways slits. What would normally be the white part of a pony's eyes is instead glowing green in this case. Seconds after this, the form of a mouth opens. When it does, vampony-like fangs form from them. The body of this pony soon grows what kind of looks like armor pieces. A chest guard grows on her chest that has the image of a crescent moon. She has tall leg guards that extend just above her hoof to near her elbows. A flat, dome-like helmet forms on her head except it's very open at the front end and has an opening for her transparent and pretty long horn to fit through. The regal and insidious looking mare soon spreads her bat-like wings to the sides of her body as if to prove the fact she's a semi-alicorn, or some bat-pony equivalent. When she does that, I fold my own wings on the side of my body.

It feels very eerie to me that the first thing she does is just stare at me in silent judgment. She has her muzzle aimed a bit up as if regarding me with royal disdain, and yet the look in her eyes seems mildly fascinated with me at the same time. She regards me like she's appraising a potential pet she might like to add to her collection.

Eventually I see her narrow her eyes as if she just realized something offensive. As if to explain that sudden reaction, she finally says to me, “Well? What are you waiting for? Bow before your supreme ruler.”

“Why?” I ask before I consciously realize it. “I haven't acknowledged your sovereignty yet.”

“You would be wise to placate me, my little pony,” Nightmare snaps with a tiny edge of venom in her tone.

“I only serve those I respect,” I reply, again before I consciously realize what I am saying. Where is all this sassy attitude coming from all of a sudden?

“And that isn't me?” Nightmare asks with indignity before she goes on to say, “I warn you, little pony, you tread on dangerous ground right now.”

This time I just stare at her with no other reply. I do some appraising of my own.

I see Nightmare stretch her neck to lift her head a little higher. During that time, her eyelids lower just a bit. Not out of apparent disgust or offense this time, but more like a shade of boredom. She then says to me, “I know the two of you have worked your flanks off taking out this little Brood. While their performance leaves something to be desired, you, on the other hoof, are a bit of an impressive specimen. If you were leading the ShadowBolts as their flight instructor, my servants of the Night might go far indeed.”

I widen my eyes slightly as I come to an important realization. If Nightmare Moon recalls this, it may suggest she has Demise's memories. I wonder if this also means that she does not have Luna's.

Nightmare narrows her eyes further and lowers her head closer to me as she says, “I have once made this same offer to a certain rainbow rival of yours. Do not make the same mistake she once did. Consider this offer carefully, Lightning, for this is your last chance to hold on to dear and precious life. Consider your next words to me very carefully.

“Will you . . . join me . . . as the new flight commander of the ShadowBolts?”

She's still going on about that? Just like Demise once did?

When I think about it, I soon realize that there is an important distinction between these two ponies. Demise may have been a ruthless and sadistic pony, but she clearly cared for her Brood. She once begged me and the Doctor to stop attacking them. She yelled at me back then, almost to the point of tears.

However, this mighty mare seems far more dismissive of her earlier and unfortunate subordinates. The way she's acting is almost as if to say, “Huh? They're dead? Oh well. Thems the breaks. Since that is the case, I can look forward to training the next batch personally and perhaps recruit the one before me as well. When I'm done, I'll have a much more powerful army at my beck and call rather than this sorry and pathetic lot.”

If all of that is true, it probably is important for me to keep in mind. Nightmare may have Demise's memories to fall back upon, but these are still two very different women and I should adjust my approach accordingly.

This essentially confirms the Doctor’s earlier warnings to me about her. Since that is the case, I can give more credit to the other things he said about her as well.

“Well?” Nightmare asks me a tad impatiently. “Do not trifle with me by keeping me waiting. What is your reply? Choose wisely.” She narrows her eyes further as her voice sinks to a sultry one as she says, “For it could be your last mistake.”

She's trying to intimidate me, and I can't say she's entirely failing. Nightmare Moon's primary power source is fear. Aka, dark magic. It's only natural that she can cause it as well. The fact she carries a figurative big stick certainly helps to add more weight behind her words. This could indeed be my last decision, and I don't hate my life enough to dismiss that prospect casually.

But is it worth it? Die with my dignity intact, or prostrate myself before an unworthy ruler? If I dared to do the latter, can I really consider that a life worth living?

No!

I don't necessarily invite death for myself or others, but it could be fair to say I treat death as a casual acquaintance instead. I flew in the line of fire before and often due to my own intentional actions. That's probably one of my most defining characteristics. Rainbow may be espoused to be the famous Element of Loyalty, but I've followed that example in my own way too. I've always been loyal to my own principals and I won't let some bully intimidate me into submission no matter how powerful she happens to be. If I'm going to die, I'll do it MY way!

“Wow. That's a tempting offer,” I tell her sarcastically but I sound deliberately serious for a moment. “But I think I got a better offer for you. How about I give you the bird.” I proceed to do so by lifting only the middle feather of my left wing and boldly presenting it to her which keeps her eyes narrow but she backs her head in disgust. “And in exchange,” I go on, “you give me a break by crawling back to the moon, or Tartarus, where filthy garbage, like you, belongs?”

“I see,” Nightmare says tightly. “Are you really sure about your final decision?”

I fold my left wing back as I bravely decide to press on with my point. Burning bridges has never scared me. I fly through flaming hoops just for fun!

“There is a good reason that the memory of Nightmare Moon is often forgotten,” I taunt her. “Because, frankly, you're not even worth being scared of anymore. We only celebrate Nightmare Night just to make fun of you. Speaking of which.” I give a bright teasing smile as I taunt, “Happy Nightmare Night, you over-hyped phony pony of a princess.”

Nightmare hisses through her teeth in seething hatred then says, “Careful, my little pony.”

“Or what?” I ask dismissively. “You'll make scary faces at me? Boo-hoo!” I fake a shiver before saying sarcastically, “I'm so scared. Somepony save me from this pathetic pony who stands in the shadow of her almighty sister with envy.”

That really got a reaction from her this time! Suddenly Nightmare flares with fury as her mane and tail billow out of her like smoke from a volcano. She roars at me, “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?!”

“Oh! I'm sorry. Are you hard of hearing too or just plain stupid?” I ask tauntingly. “Whichever the case may be, I'll reiterate since you're clearly slow on the uptake for some reason. What I meant to say is you're a pale and pathetic excuse for a pony whose light and glory cannot match even half of that of your sister. Why should I revere you when your sister is clearly far more worthy of my admiration and respect? Read my lips, you simpering dolt: The moon is, and always shall be, the lesser light.”

Nightmare Moon lifts her head as she bellows out a shrill scream of pure fury for five seconds. During that time, the starry black cloud of her mane and tail swirl around her like a cyclone. While it does that, flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder project from that cyclone.

When she's done with that, she snaps her gaze back at me as her eyes flare a brighter green before she yells, “YOU INSOLENT LITTLE WRETCH! YOU DARE TO MOCK ME, YOUR RIGHTFUL RULER? I SHALL DESTROY YOU!!!”

“You'll have to catch me first . . . if you can,” I taunt her as I back up a few steps.

Nightmare screams in berserk rage and launches herself at me.

With all of that accomplished, that's my cue to get out of here.

When I quickly wheel about and launch myself away like a rocket, I finally expel a panicked breath and open my wide, frightened eyes. Now that Nightmare can no longer see my face, I don't have to hide my true feelings anymore. As I fly on desperately, I recall that I've done some really ballsy things before but poking at the ego of an evil and powerfully vengeful horse goddess has likely set a new lifetime record for my daredevil activities.

Eat your heart out, Daring Do!

I zip back and forth as I narrowly weave through the twists and turns of the cavern. As I do so, I hear a screaming demon goddess chase after me and narrowly miss me with something that causes multiple wooshing sounds. I dare not glance behind me to identify what almost killed me each time.

Meanwhile, the only comfort I feel as I fly on is the thought that I successfully distracted her from going after Doctor Van. She's so dead locked on me that she probably forgot about his entire existence. That means he'll go on and probably save other lives in the future.

Go me!

“Run, run, run . . . or you're gonna die!” Nightmare calls out shortly behind me with sinister glee. “I'm gonna turn your head into a pie!”

As I continue to fly on desperately, I shiver as a chill sinks down my spine because of what she said, yet part of me feels like laughing at the same time. Maybe her insanity is infectious.

While I retreat, I fake her out by attempting to fly to one cavern opening but veer into another at the last second. She ends up flying into my original direction. When that happens, I finally look behind me and notice she's no longer there. I breathe a sigh of relief until she ends up flying right through the cave wall on my right side. She totally passed through it as if she's absolutely incorporeal. Despite that, when the glowing and menacing blue scythe that she's wielding, that she mysteriously conjured earlier somehow, which sort of looks like a long and wicked crescent moon, swipes at me. I notice it cleaves off a small chunk of my tail as a result.

Okay. Now that's fair! She can fly through walls herself but her weapon can still hit me? Great! That's just perfect!

This also means that any swing of my hooves at her will simply pass through her as if she's made of black smoke. That's also odd to think about because I know Demise's body was perfectly solid. When did that change?

Now I'm really up a creek. At this point it's irrelevant how augmented my strength is. If I can't even hit her in the first place, it’s moot to consider how fast she’d later regenerate from such a blow.

Oh my Celestia! Now what am I going to do?

Well, at least I see the exit to the tunnel up ahead.

Before I meet it, yet another threat tries to take a bite out of me. A giant eel snaps at me from another hole near the exit up ahead. However, when it tries, I slug it with my right cross hook swipe of my right hoof which connects so hard that it launches the creature away where it crashes into a cave wall hard enough to spread cracks in it.

Wow! I just side swiped a creature over a thousand times larger than me! I hope I repeat that in my dreams later because that unexpected, split-second moment has just become one of my new favorite memories.

Finally I launch out of the cave then curve to soar straight up out of the canyon gorge. I don't need to check behind me to know that Nightmare is still following. She's vocal about it enough to make the deaf wince in pain.

I spiral in the air to dodge a new set of projectiles flying at me like a laser beam from her ghostly “horn”. I may be fast, but I ain't faster than light.

Over time I start to notice something interesting that starts to lift my hopes. Now that we're out in the open and I have plenty of room to spread my wings, I'm starting to accelerate ahead of Nightmare Moon! This just blows my mind! Not even a goddess can keep up with me!

Of course, her horn beams can keep up with me, not to mention she starts to teleport ahead of me and swipes at me with her more than deadly looking scythe. That spooky-looking weapon causes after shadows to trail behind each of its swings.

“What's wrong, you little foal?!” Nightmare calls after me seconds after I dodged her latest attack. “Am I starting to gather your respect now? Have you come to regret provoking a sleeping giant?”

I don't reply because I'm too busy trying to dodge her. Hornbeam after hornbeam chases after me. Some of them hold for more than a second. Whenever it does, it waves about through the sky, thus forcing me to narrowly curve around it. Then she teleports ahead of me and stands on a cloud. The moment she does, it ignites into an immediate storm cloud. Harsh winds buffet me and almost screws up my corkscrew flight. Again, I dodge another scythe attack so narrowly that she chopped off yet another chunk of my tail. As I curve away from her, cackling laughter from her follows after me as the storm she stands on dramatically picks up in activity.

When I look back, I notice that she's gone, and yet I can still hear her mad laughter. It now seems to echo all around me, thus displacing her true position.

Pony feathers. I lost sight of her!

“Do you want to know what your most critical mistake is?” asks Nightmare's echoing voice around me. “It's that you dared to challenge me when you haven't fed off the energy of even one pony. You could have absorbed that pony's strength, but instead, you chose to abstain from it. Meanwhile I have fed off thousands upon thousands of ponies across all these centuries. This means I have absorbed all of their strength, stamina, speed, talents, wits, and magic. Because of that, this means you not only face off against all of my almighty abilities, but the combined might of ALLthose ponies I've ever absorbed put together. Do you not see your folly now? You now face the might of an entireLEGION acting as one!”

When she finishes that little tirade, she instantly resumes her cackling laughter.

I don't believe her, or at least not entirely. By doing almost anything, Demise must have spent energy in addition to gathering it. It's not all cumulative. The only source of energy that might have remained without decaying across all that time was whatever energy that was stored in the Nightmare Night statue. Now that she's absorbed that energy, she's spending it at this very moment. It probably is true that she has far more than I do, but what she has is not infinite.

“You stand alone, child,” Nightmare resumes her taunts. “All before the might of unfathomable darkness. Now behold my true power . . . andDESPAAAAAAAIR!!!”

Suddenly she unleashes a new trick upon me. Thousands upon thousands of wraith-like creatures start to zip at me. Each one kind of resembles the fabled myths of the windigos except they are much smaller, about normal pony size, and they are shadowy instead of having clear, ghost-like transparency. Their eyes also glow menacingly red.

I almost stumble out of pure horror when I first behold them because part of me wonders if these vamponies weren't just absorbing energy from ponies all this time, but the actual souls of their victims. Does that mean that innocent baseball foal is among them too? Was he damned in the afterlife as well and twisted so much because of this that he's literally been forced to become a cruel and vicious villain that now hungers for living pony flesh?

Pure depression at the thought of that slowed me down enough that I got momentarily careless.

I shake my head as I berate myself. I need to get it together. This is Nightmare Moon here. Sure, the energy she's now unleashing upon me probably did come from Demise's victims across all of that time, but there is little doubt in my mind that Nightmare can shape this energy however she wants. She could have made cute little hopping bunny rabbits out of that energy if she wanted to, but her natural instincts compel her to push towards evoking fear. This psychological tactic did spook me for a moment, but a reminder of what I'm dealing with helps me to put things back into proper perspective.

Regardless of their form, there is also no doubt in my mind that allowing them to hit me will injure me somehow, and now I'm dealing with a whole swarm of these things.

Fortunately for me, most of them are following me in a line. That line loops and curves as they chase after me, but they remain behind.

However, the storm Nightmare created is making things difficult in other ways. Violent winds and stinging rain assault my hide as I continue to struggle in the air.

To make things worse, Nightmare starts spreading out a brand new type of attack. This one seems to spring from her very own mane and tail. That sparkling substance that is there, which sort of looks like twinkling stars, flies off her mane and tail when she swings them harshly. The twinkling lights then spread out all around her. My instincts scream danger to me the moment I see them. I'm glad I listened to it, too, because a few seconds later they twinkle more brightly for a moment, then dim as if their inner light implodes for a second before suddenly, and violently, exploding. Each explosion isn't too strong. The total radius of each explosion is no bigger than approximately the size of a watermelon, but the force of that explosion can still easily take off a limb or even a head. Plus, there are thousands of these explosions raining destruction all around her. They just curve across in an explosive stream one after another. I found myself having to dodge the explosions, the weather, her waving hornbeams and the wraiths.

NO! I can't let this happen! I need to do something. Time to hit her with ALL of my rage!

My senses blur as my rage takes over again. I summon all of the dark magic I've been infused with to take over my body and propel it to new heights. As a result, I shoot into a blur of motion. Red lightning streaks on behind me as I zip to and fro.

Then, at once, I suddenly gain an idea, although it's more like a thought at the edge of my consciousness because blind, explosive rage doesn't allow for much thought or strategy.

Still, I act on the shadow of my idea by zipping around so fast I cause a longer and stronger stream of red lightning to follow my wake. As that happens, I gather some of it in my body before suddenly launching it at Nightmare Moon. She may be incorporeal, and thus immune to my physical strikes, so I decide to use energy against an energy being.

It manages to hit her, and why not? By the time I finally gathered enough energy to strike her with, I was flying so fast that the rest of the world seemed to be standing still, almost as if time itself was momentarily paused.

But the moment I strike her, I fly slower and curve around her so I can observe the results. After all, before repeating the attack, I want to make sure it actually works.

Nightmare is indeed struck and she is startled by that unexpected attack, but it takes us a moment to realize that it does not have the effect either of us expected. Nightmare was struck and pushed back a bit by the force of the blow, but instead of being hurt or even immune to the attack, Nightmare is actually strengthened by it!

Horror sinks in me after witnessing that.

Once the results fully sink in for the both of us, she laughs for a moment before declaring, and without an echo this time, “You foal! Of course that kind of energy isn't going to work. You can't use dark energy against a being made of dark energy! That is like trying to put out fire with more fire!” She gives a sultry and mocking grin. “But thanks for the charge anyway. I'll be sure to put it to good use. Maybe I should put that on your epitaph.”

Then, like clockwork, she predictably bursts back into more endless fits of maniacal laughter.

Yikes! Okay. Bad idea. I need to come up with a new strategy, and fast!

I momentarily draw upon my dark magic again, but this time for a new purpose. I quickly accelerate once again and drag a long trail of red lightning behind me. Unlike before, though, I don't use it for offensive purposes. Instead, I just want to slow time down again while I look for a way to hide from her. I zip about in a dizzying pattern that would confuse an onlooker where the red lightning behind me is going before I suddenly zip into a storm cloud and screech to a halt in order to suddenly cut off the lightning trail following after me. Then, from within the storm cloud, I crawl inside it like a spider until I come out one end of it. Specifically the end that is facing away from the last position I saw Nightmare Moon.

I consider it a good sign when I hear her laughter suddenly halt before she asks seconds later, “Huh? Where did you go?”

Good! She doesn't see me. This will buy me time as I restrategize.

Okay, so hitting her physically is out, and striking her with red lightning is out because that energy is empowered with dark magic.

Geeze! Now I'm really in a bind. If I avoid my vamponic abilities entirely, I'm no better off than a regular pegasus. At least the lightning did affect her. Just not in the way I had hoped. Had she been immune to that, it would have been better than what I got. Still, it was an important lesson. Energy will indeed affect her. How it affects her depends what type of energy it is.

“Where aaaaaaaaaaaare yoooooooooou,” Nightmare calls out with a spooky echo. “Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaaaaaaaaare. My little pony, you don't need to worry. All I'll do is slowly peel your face off then wear it like a costume on Nightmare Night. That will spook the little kiddies for sure once they see how ugly your face is!”

Again, I shudder. It's so chilling to listen to threats like that while knowing she’s more than likely telling the truth even though it sounds like some cruel joke.

Well, I guess it is good to get a reminder that I'm dealing with a heartless monster. It'll make it that much easier to deny her any mercy later on.

That is assuming, of course, I can get her into that position in the first place.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see some of the wraith-like windigo things fan out in a searching pattern. No longer are they mostly consolidated to one area. As a result, I crawl into the storm cloud a bit further. Doing so puts me at greater risk of being shocked by lightning (ironically), but I suspect something much worse will happen if she, or any of those things, finds me first before I am ready.

Yet another chill sinks down my spine when I notice something else unsettling. Within the storm cloud, I notice what appears to be an especially large version of the primary symbol of Nightmare Moon momentarily flash into visible existence. It is basically her own face from a side perspective. Her face is shadowy black and her single eye glows chillingly that looks upon the viewer either off to her right or left depending which way the symbol is facing. I see the shadow of that symbol flash several times in different places in the cloud, and always one by one. I can't help but wonder if any of those symbols could actually see me if they happened to spot me hiding here.

Get a grip, Lightning! You're letting your nerves get the best of you! Remember, she wants me to be afraid of her. Perhaps she can even use that to track me, somehow, if I give in to that emotion. Besides, the very fact that she wants that is reason enough to deny her, for she deserves nothing she desires from me! I refuse to give her that satisfaction!

Okay, so if I established what I won't do, that leaves me with a simple question . . . what will I do instead?

My options seem thin. Probably the greatest power I can tap into right now will backfire against this particular opponent. If it had been anypony else, even the other vamponies, it could have worked . . . but one does not simply use dark magic against another being purely made of that essence. It just won't help.

So what else do I do? The rainbow potion is very unlikely to work. I'm not even sure it would hit her if she's incorporeal, but at least it has light magic energy.

Do I have anything else that does as well?

I hear Nightmare Moon cackle again for a brief moment before she announces, “You know what? I just realized something. I once asked Rainbow to join the ShadowBolts, but she turned me down. Then, many years later, I asked you to join the ShadowBolts, and lo and behold . . . you also turned me down despite being a much more compatible fit, so now I'm wondering . . . will your sister be so stubborn by refusing me as well?”

I freeze. My blood chills.

“It's poetic, don't you think? One has to appreciate the fine and delicious irony of this all, just like a true Shakesponyan tragedy,” remarks Nightmare's taunting voice. “If you will not turn with my offer of dark magic, then perhaps . . . she . . . will!”

“NOOOOOOOO!” I cry out in outrage then burst to her so fast that I drag the storm cloud behind me. In doing this, I feel her suddenly alert towards me. I start twirling around to turn the storm cloud I'm dragging behind me into a giant twister. After that, I allow the cyclone to catch me and drift me back into the whirling storm.

But, once I am there, a strange sense of calm suddenly settles into me as I float in the eye of that tornado. Somehow, when I look about me at the lightning storm clouds caught in a whirling tornado, I sense a kindred spirit with this storm. It feels like it reminds me of who I am and what else I have within me. Tapping into the dark magic that recently infected my blood is only part of the truth. I haven't fully turned yet and the mark has frozen that progress as well as slowly reversing it. When that process is complete, I will mostly be a normal pony again anyway.

Is that so bad? A normal pony lives, breathes, and frolics in a land full of harmony. Light magic is a natural part of our nature! Vamponism simply tries to twist and corrupt our most basic nature. It tries to turn us into what we're innately not.

Even before I was turned, I could keep up with the other vamponies. What if I simply continue to tap that innate potential to its greatest extreme?

Nightmare tried to provoke me with the knowledge of what she would do to my sister, and I'll admit . . . she got under my hide for a moment. But I can take that same knowledge and apply a new meaning to it. Whatever I'll do against Nightmare, I'll do it for her. For my sister. I'll protect her from the fate that Nightmare threatens to impose.

Oh, you made a bad move, Your Majesty! That was a huge mistake.

I slowly close my eyes and spread my wings, not flapping them. I allow myself to drift into the whirling tornado.

I love flying! How could I forget that? Up here, in my natural element, I am at my best! Up here, everything just makes sense. I connect to the essence and spirit of this place like no other. All I have to do is remember. All I have to do is sink into a trance. Just like I have always done during my most daring stunts.

Now I proceed to flap once the winds catch me. I use that flap to fly in the direction of the spinning winds. I do that to provoke it to spin faster, but more importantly, I am infusing it with my now natural golden colored lightning.

Faster. Gotta go faster. Faster, faster.

The winds and stinging rain whirl through me so fast that it feels like I transcended into another dimension. A dimension of speed. I feel like I become a living essence of speed as if it is its own kind of force.

Yellow lightning stretches to gradually wrap around every inch of the tornado.

Just like in ponies, I realize that nature itself is naturally inclined to the magic of harmony. Only a direct attempt at corruption can change its default nature, just like Nightmare did not long ago. But now I'll take that energy and turn it on its head. This time it'll be her efforts that will backfire on her!

Everything, in my mind, fades away as I sink into the bliss that is the zone of flying. As my natural senses fade, something else takes its place. Something that is both strange and yet also familiar. A sort of sixth sense of all that is around me. I feel attuned to the tornado and all that is spinning within it. I feel like I am the tornado. All of this, and I, are one.

“What . . . what are you doing?” Nightmare cries out in alarm below me as she watches in horror as all of her wraith minions get swept up into the tornado and get shocked into oblivion by the yellow lightning twirling within the storm.

“Nooooooooo!” Nightmare cries in frightened protest.

The tornado slams hard into Nightmare. I can feel it. She cries out as she spirals uncontrollably within the winds. As that is happening, she gets shocked by the yellow lightning constantly while also being ripped apart by the winds. She screams louder. Somehow loud enough to be heard over the roar of the storm, although just barely.

I plunge into a still cloud to help stop my momentum. My muscles are screaming at me in pure exhaustion, and unlike before, they are not recovering fast. By tapping more into my innate mortal magic, it also makes me heal as slowly as I did before my transformation.

Still, I am satisfied. Elated, even. There is nothing in this world like overcoming an overwhelming challenge. To know that I had what it takes to beat this thing. I live for moments like this all the time!

Muscles aching, I still manage to crawl to the edge of the cloud to peek over. I pull my head over the edge of the cloud and gaze down below triumphantly.

Nightmare Moon is down below me. I'm not sure if it's a trick of the light, but she seems more solid than she was before. I see her chest heaving with strain. It is rising and falling very rapidly, yet she doesn't otherwise move a muscle. Her eyes remain closed too, for now.

All around her, she is in a massive scar across the land, especially the spot she's in. The shocking tornado had not only plunged her into the earth, but drilled her down there as well. She is now in a new, corkscrew shaped crater. When I behold this, a question suddenly flashes in my mind: What will future generations name that corkscrew crater when they later discover it? Maybe it will be celebrated as the greatest geological find of the century!

Behold! The Corkscrew Crater! No pony knows how it was initially formed.

Or . . . maybe not. It's not likely all of that will happen, but the thought of it still makes me giggle a little.

I grow alert, though, when I finally see Nightmare Moon open her eyes wide before her sideways iris sinks into narrow, cat-like slits.

Then I grow horrified to notice how fast her body is recovering. She is regenerating. Wasn't that supposed to stop? Didn't I channel light magic back there?

I think about it carefully then eventually conclude that the answer is yes, but only the normal amount found in ponies and in nature. That's probably not insignificant. It might even be that she is, indeed, recovering more slowly than she normally would, but what I've done probably doesn't hold a candle next to the actual Elements of Harmony. That kind of magic took down Nightmare Moon in one shot before, or so I heard. Not only that, it transformed her back into Luna.

I close my eyes as my face collapses on the edge of the cloud. I feel so old all of a sudden. I gave everything I had into that last attack. Everything! It would have impressed just about any other pony who could have witnessed it.

But pony feathers! It still wasn't enough? What more can I do? What more can I possibly do?!

This is so unfair.

Down below, I hear further movement from Nightmare, so I crack my eyes open tiredly to look. I see her crawling painfully up to her knees and slowly lift her head. The more time passes, the more rapidly she seems to recover. Still, my instincts tell me that I did a good number on her. While her body may be recovering fast, her stolen energy isn't. All of those wraiths I killed in the storm are truly gone. So, too, is any energy she spent up to this point. By the look and feel of her, not much is left.

Nevertheless, she's recovering faster than I am. If this comes to basic hoof blows, she'll soon throw a much mightier punch than I’ll be able to.

“How dare you!” Nightmare growls below. “How DARE YOU! Do you not know who I am? I am NIGHTMARE MOON! I'll crush your entrails into tiny little bits, you insolent little wretch!” The last word she said sounded very coarse.

“Heard that before,” I barely utter very tiredly. Despite how thoroughly exhausted I feel, I can't help but crack a small grin at that.

“THAT'S IT!” Nightmare cries out in outrage as she crouches down low as if preparing to spring a moment later. “If you will not bow and respect the stolen power I've obtained from an entire legion of your kind, then I'll just sick the might of the entire COSMOS against your sorry little hide! Prepare to face thy end, my doomed little pony!”

With a furious flourish, Nightmare whips her head up and back in an arch so fast it actually looks painful. The tip of her still mostly ghostly looking horn sparks with dark, lunar light. It traces a magical scar across the air as she whipped her head up. But, despite how dramatic that spell appears to be, it did nothing more than teleport her out of my sight.

Despite how anticlimactic that recent magical display was, I still get a massive sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I've also lost sight of her. That is never a good sign.

Fortunately for me, a flash of light behind me tips me off to her new position. With a groan of strain, I push against the cloud on my left side in order to roll me onto my back so I can face up to where she's now at.

High above me, Nightmare Moon is now standing on a cloud of her own. I really don't like the way crimson energy seems to sink into the cloud she's standing on which causes it to glow both brighter and yet darker at the same time. It's so ominous to behold.

That's not the only thing I see. I see her create a bright, luminous glow at the tip of her horn that sort of looks like a miniature version of the full moon. This energy floats off to the tip of her right bat wing. I then witness that glow streak across and over her in an upside down, U shaped arc. As the streak continues, it pauses and flashes for only one second a total of four times. Each time it does that, the light dims more and more. It actually looks like five out of eight phases of the moon being displayed, beginning with the full moon off her right wingtip, then proceeds to waning gibbous, then third quarter directly above her, then arcing down to waning crescent, then finally ending with the new moon off her left wingtip which is visible to the naked eye only because of a tiny lunar light off the rim of the new moon.

My sinking feeling sinks even deeper. I am on the verge of a full scale panic attack.

“MY SUBJECTS OF EQUESTRIA, HEAR ME!” Nightmare Moon booms in what is famously known as the Royal Canterlot Voice. “I AM NIGHTMARE MOON, THE SUPREME AND RIGHTFUL RULER OF ALL OF EQUESTRIA! MY MIGHT IS ETERNAL, AND SO TOO IS MY POTENTIAL WRATH. THE WRETCHED DAWN HAS RISEN FOR THE LAST TIME! FOR NOW UNTO ETERNITY, THE MOON SHALL STAND HER GROUND! ALL WHO BOW BEFORE ME SHALL DANCE WITH THEIR QUEEN IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT!” She looks down and glares at me within her narrow, green flashing eyes as she adds, “AND ALL WHO REFUSE TO BOW . . . SHALL BE CRUSHED. DIE . . . YOU INSOLENT LITTLE WORM!”

When she lowers her wings, I behold an awe striking and horrible sight. Not only does the moon get bigger, but a sanguine glow crawls across it like a bloody wound. The more that increases, the more it bathes the whole sky with the same crimson glow.

And then, a moment later, it dawns on me that the moon isn't getting bigger. It is getting CLOSER!

WHAT?! IS SHE INSANE!!! SHE'S GOING TO COLLAPSE THE ENTIRE MOON ON THIS PLANET JUST TO CRUSH ME?!

From where she stands on her now poisonous, red gaseous cloud, Nightmare Moon arches her head back and erupts in a cacophony of echo-y, roaring manacle laughter. By that act alone, it feels like she unknowingly just answered my own inner question.

I close my eyes and I feel even older. This cannot be happening!

With a strained groan, I crawl up to a kneeling position. Not out of deference to her, but simply because I don't have the strength to rise up any further. Once I am in that position, I mull over the situation I'm in then slowly shake my head.

“How did you do it?” I whisper under my breath then slowly look up at the enclosing giant and ominous sanguine moon above while Nightmare continues her endless cackle. “How did you actually beat her . . . Rainbow?” I shake my head with a delirious expression on my face. “It's too much. Too overwhelming for any one mortal pony to realistically overcome.”

But that's the crux of it, isn't it? Rainbow wasn't alone when she faced Nightmare Moon. Her friends were by her side, and so were the Elements of Harmony. She had her friends . . . and I stand alone. She always worked to support her friends, and I always worked to support myself.

I close my eyes as regret squeezes my heart when it suddenly becomes painfully clear the differences, and reason for those differences, between our lives.

Is it too late for me? Maybe I have underestimated friendship. Maybe I always have. I don't know. I never thought of myself as a mean pony per se. I was just being myself. Same as every other pony. Some accept me for who I am and others don't. I guess I'm too extreme for some to hoofle. It makes sense, actually, because I push my life to living on the edge every time.

But this is too much. I actually do regret taunting Nightmare if the end result of it is her crushing the entire world to oblivion, but how was I supposed to know she could, or even would, push things that far?

At this point I haven't failed just my sister. I've failed everypony!

Curses! What am I supposed to do? I'm just one pony! One insignificant, little mortal pony.

“Now you know,” Nightmare taunts above me smugly. “All hope decays and dies in those who stand against me. To those who cross me, they shall not see another dawn! They shall not even see another night!” A wicked grin crawls across her face. “Sleep now, my little pony. Close your weary eyes. Just give up. There is no escape. Rest in the eternal torment that I shall bring you.”

“Pony feathers. Is that what you want?” I ask up at her wearily. “Guess I have no choice, then.” I shakily rise to my hooves. “You want me to be scared? I shall defy you with courage. You want me to despair? Then I shall defy you with hope. Whatever it is you want . . .” I trail off for a moment of silence while I shake my head then eventually conclude, “. . . I'll fight to my last breath to make sure you get the exact opposite of your desires, for that is the only thing a sadistic monster like you deserves.”

“Huh.” Nightmare scoffs in disgust as she lifts her muzzle in the air yet continues to stare down at me. “Run your mouth as much as you can, you pathetic pony. That is all the damage you can ever do against me at this point.” She gains her wicked grin back as she gets an idea. “But then again . . . how about we have a bit more fun before you die?

“Okay, then. I have decided.” Nightmare spreads her bat wings and her ghostly horn glows brightly again. From above, a stream of crimson energy beams down from the moon. When it nears her position, she collects it into a giant ball that is quickly growing bigger and bigger directly above her.

My eyes widen in alarm at this.

“Since you're so keen on giving me the opposite of my every request, I have another,” Nightmare says while maintaining her wicked smile. “I want you to try and dodge this attack with your very last breath. I want you to squirm like a worm on a hook. Dance for your Queen . . . My Little PONY!”

By the time she launches a beam from the giant ball above her, it is so large that it nearly covers the entire sky. From it, a GIANT three-hundred foot diameter laser shoots down from the energy above her towards me.

“Here we go again,” I groan tiredly before flapping away as fast as I can.

Reverse psychology. I get it. She asked me to dodge the attack in order to dare me to just stand there and take this obviously instant killing beam of destruction. So powerful it is, in fact, that it is ripping apart the entire landscape as it traces a massive scar after me. But by knowing that Nightmare actually wants me to stand there and take it, I must do the opposite and actually try to dodge it.

On second thought, it's hard to tell what she really wants. She resumes her mad laughing above as if she is entertained either way.

I look down at Ghastly Gorge as the huge beam she is sending after me annihilates the opening of Ghastly Gorge, but a new opening is created in its place. It's almost as if the opening is being moved a bit.

If Doctor Van is still down there, he can't take much more of this. It's true he is quite a bit down there, but that giant beam chasing after me looks like it could burrow into the center of the planet if it stays in one spot too long.

Question is, how long is too long?

As I struggle on, a funny thought occurs to me. We parked the rented pegasus chariot near the edge of the cliff, right? Well then . . . I strongly suspect we just lost our deposit on that thing.

I already started this super exhausted. I don't even know how I am able to summon this strength right now, and really, all I seem to be accomplishing is living a few moments longer. Sooner or later that beam is going to catch up to me, and even if it doesn't, I'm going to have a problem when that giant, looming moon crashes to the surface of this planet.

As I fly, I sometimes scream because of the strain of the effort. Tears cascade from my eyes and fall back into the giant laser beam of death chasing after me.

As I continue, I notice catastrophic environmental disasters already start to pick up because of the moon's closer proximity. Specifically, the entire land starts to quake. I can only imagine that the tides will be a literal nightmare all around the world. I even start to see some rocks drift upwards as if pulled by the force of a new sphere of gravity above. That just puts even more obstacles in my path that I have to dodge.

And she just continues to stand there, laughing madly all the while. The echoes of her laughter even roll across the sky like thunder.

I lose my train of thoughts when a new problem develops. The giant beam chasing behind me splits into two, then four, then eight. Its numbers keep doubling. Every time it does, it does get twice as thin, but nonetheless, each of them still seem strong enough to vaporize me instantly judging from how much damage they are doing to the earth.

From high above, one could see a dozen giant columns of light waving about and tearing apart the landscape. Between them all is a tiny yellow streak of lightning trying desperately to weave between them just for a few more precious seconds of life.

As I continue to dodge and weave, I eventually notice one detail that sparks a tiny amount of hope in my soul. On the horizon I see the glow of the rising morning dawn. After a while, though, I also notice a problem. It's there, waiting for its turn to rise, but the moon seems to be in the way. As a result, the sun is frozen in its position as if there is a traffic jam in space.

“Squirm! SQUIRM, you little worm!” Nightmare calls above then resumes laughing.

I widen my eyes, startled, when the giant beams chasing me tries a new tactic. They explode into an unfathomable number of smaller balls of light that each look like miniature copies of the moon. Each of them also transitions between all the phases of the moon. Whenever they return to the full moon phase, which lasts for only two seconds, they shoot a beam of light that also chases after me, albeit slowly. When that happens, I end up needing to dodge millions upon millions of light beams that each chase after me for two seconds, each of which could burn a one foot hole through my body. When those beams stop, one of the other spheres becomes a full moon. As a result, an almost constant barrage of beams fires at me with only a split second pause between one wave of beams and the next.

Had this not been so utterly deadly, I might have paused to admire its beauty.

By necessity, I sink into a trance again. My instincts take over and become hyper sensitive. It's sort of like this ultra instinct mode. At that point I am beyond all thought. I just react.

I weave and glide elegantly through the air. Waves upon waves of beaming light chase after me as if joining me in this elegant dance of death.

By the time the balls of light adjust their tactics, I am beyond thought. I can only barely later recall the fact that, when each ball reaches the waning or gibbous crescent moon phase, they start to spin as a flat deadly disk of light then chase after me. They are not nearly as maneuverable or as fast as me, especially when I can move with perfect defense without thought, but with millions of spinning disks chasing after me as well as millions of beams of light turning towards me like solid columns of death, I just don't have enough room to maneuver for long. Add to that is the escalating fatigue my body is suffering.

Because of all of these factors, one of the spinning disks does indeed eventually clip through my left wing near where the wing meets my back. Because of that, I end up falling and spinning in the sky. When I hit the ground, I am subject to the effects of the planet wide earthquake that is getting worse and worse as the moon continues to close in on us.

But, at that moment, all other attacks against me suddenly stop. All of it just instantly vanishes in midair. It would be so easy to hit me when I'm down at this point, but my guess is Nightmare wants a moment to pause and gloat over me.

And I'm right.

Nightmare teleports just a few feet above me along with her cloud. From there, she stands there and smiles at me smugly.

“After all that we've gone through together tonight, little pony, grant me this one last boon,” requests Nightmare. She tilts her head coyly at me as she asks, “What is going through your mind right now? It recently occurred to me that I've never asked those I've slain before. What goes through the minds of my victims just before I kill them? Regret, perhaps? Supplication?” She pauses a moment to let that thought sink in before she leans her head down and asks insidiously, “Feeeeeeeeeeear?”

“Why don't you try it yourself and find out?” comes my snippy reply before I cough out some blood due to the strain of . . . Well. Pretty much everything. Every level of my being.

In reply, Nightmare laughs a bit before shaking her head with a grin. “A witty reply, I must admit. Alas, our time together has come to an end.” She now stands tall with arrogant, regal authority. “Lightning Dust, for the crimes of defying me, your rightful ruler, I hereby sentence you to-”

“Oh bite my flank!” I bark back in irritation as I tiredly flick my tail in her general direction. “It certainly would be less painful to me rather than kissing yours.”

Nightmare Moon's right eye briefly twitches in irritation, but she mostly retains her royal dignity. She cracks her neck twice by swinging her head from side to side before she declares, “Very well. We'll just skip to the punishment, shall we?”

I widen my eyes when I sense new energy flooding this area, but unlike before, it feels cleaner somehow. For a very brief moment, I thought Nightmare was responsible until I hear her gasp in surprise too.

“What?!” Nightmare asks in astonishment as she looks around then widens her cat-like eyes before whipping her head to look up at the moon. When she does, I do too. Because of that, we both notice the natural blue hue return to it, thus chasing away the crimson glow it had earlier. Moments later, the moon starts to back off as well.

“What?!” Nightmare exclaims again. “NOOOOOOOO! This can't be happening. Who would dare? Who even could . . .” She trails off in a moment of realized shock, then narrows her eyes as she growls hatefully, “HER!”

Her, I wonder? Her meaning . . .

Then my eyes widen as I catch on to Nightmare's meaning. There is only one I can think of who would dare to do this, or even be able.

“Luna,” I say in awe under my breath as I scan the horizon. There is a brief flare of hope that she might be nearby, but to no avail.

Nevertheless, having the entire moon turn sanguine red then close in upon the planet, thus causing giant earthquakes and tsunamis everywhere, is sure to attract Luna's attention no matter where she is. Even if she was sleeping, which I heard doesn't happen often at night, all of these environmental effects would surely alert her unless she's dead.

But clearly she's not. Somewhere out there in the world, Luna is fighting back against her own nightmarish counterpart. As she does so, Nightmare is losing strength because she was drawing energy from the corrupted sanguine moon earlier. When the moon returned to normal, it cut off the flow of dark magic Nightmare was feeding upon.

With intense relief and gratitude, I close my eyes in prayer.

I believe in you, Luna. You kick flank! You're my kind of mare! Now keep up the pressure and show this phony imposter who is boss!

“How dare you! How DARE YOU!” Nightmare screeches before igniting her own horn and aiming it back at the moon. “No! NO! You can't do this! YOU CAN'T TAKE THE NIGHT AWAY FROM ME! Not even you!”

I see Nightmare Moon struggle to regain control of the moon, but for some reason, she is easily thwarted. It's almost as if the strength of multiple ponies is fighting back against Nightmare. Beings powerful enough to hold their ground.

Or maybe all ponies? Perhaps all races entirely? Nightmare threatened the entire planet just a few minutes ago. That is sure to lure a lot of attention. I guess subtlety in vamponies don't apply to their alicorn'ish versions.

When the moon is reset to its normal position and its normal phase, it starts advancing across the late night sky to where it originally should have been by this time of night. As it proceeds to do so, the sun resumes its advance as well. The dawn glows beautifully and warmly off the eastern horizon, thus welcoming the rise of a new day.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Nightmare screams up into the air in sheer frustration and overwhelming fury.

My danger instincts kick in. Knowing what has happened so far, and at least having some idea as to why, I realize that Nightmare Moon is about to thrash about with a child-like tantrum. Given my close proximity to her, I quickly realize that there is one area that I certainly don't wish to remain in.

Without warning, I burst into the air, maybe for the last time. I fight against overwhelming exhaustion and, this time, also an injury near the base of my left wing. However, I know that if I don't escape the clutches of Nightmare and do it now, I will not get another chance to ever recover again.

It actually takes Nightmare much longer than I thought it would to finally chase after me. Even when I first bolted off, it's as if she didn't notice. Too busy screaming in frustration, I suppose.

But that only gave me a head start. When Nightmare finally does launch herself at me, she does so with frightening speed. She is still an augmented vampony, after all. If I was still at full strength, there is a chance I could still fly circles around her even as a mortal. However, as it stands, I am struggling to remain in the air at all, and Nightmare is advancing upon me so fast that she almost blurs. I hear her screaming in bloody rage as she closes in on me, too.

I close my eyes as tears start to flood them both because of my pain and the closing edge of despair. I gave everything I thought I had in this battle a long time ago.

I don't know where my strength is coming from right now. All I know is I just don't want to die. I want to live, and not just for myself. There are others who depend upon me too, and perhaps there's even a chance for something more?

I struggle on, keeping my eyes closed. I fly on until I feel a sense of warmth on my hide. That is when I finally open my eyes as I realize I reached high enough that I am now in the light of the rising dawn.

Nightmare almost had me, too, but when she reaches the light of the dawn as well, she screams as she visibly burns. This forces her to fly back down then glare at me hatefully over her shoulder, for she realizes there is still one flaw in my plan.

Yeah. That's right. I made it to the light of the dawn, but how am I going to stay up here? It took everything I had just to make it this far. Expecting to remain in this spot is . . .

I see a small pink cloud ahead of me that is lit by the light of the dawn. Considering my depleted strength, it feels far ahead of me. Maybe even too far, but I go for it anyway.

To do it, I sink into a trance again. I remind myself that I am up here in my element. I am a pegasus and a very good one. The sky is my home.

Before I know it, my right hoof grips the edge of the pink cloud. I'm in so much pain, but that contact gives me one last burst of elation. I ride the wave of my exhausted adrenaline rush to help pull myself onto the cloud. The more of my body is up there, the easier the task becomes except for my exhaustion. It threatens to give out every second, but I keep pulling. I keep crawling until my entire body is on the cloud. From there, I collapse to recover my overwhelmingly strained body.

Author's Note

Fun fact. The comment of "Run, run, run . . . or you're gonna die," came from a real nightmare I suffered in either 2001 or 2002. In it, I was being chased by tall, thin tedie bears through a cornfield which slowed me down. The tedie had three long razor metal claws per paw exactly like Wolverine's.

So how appropriate it is to be said by Nightmare Moon with that context in mind.

Update on 1/25/2024 (two days after my birthday): A friend of mine on YouTube, who is doing a reading on this story recently, also offered the following link which I think is thematically appropriate here.

Chapter 11: Enlightenment

It actually feels like I fell asleep. Somewhere out there, I am lost in space and time. I am just gone. A pony with no mind.

But when I finally awaken and look over my shoulder, I notice the sun has risen a lot less than I expected. It still is not fully over the horizon yet even from this high of a perspective, yet time clearly did pass.

I also feel a little stronger now, or perhaps it's better to say I am in less pain. Since that is the case, I crawl along the cloud until I reach a point of the cloud that is higher than the other side. This sort of creates a lounge chair in the sky for me. From there, I struggle to turn myself about to face the sun again. I actually failed the first couple of times, but with the third attempt, I make a last burst of effort sufficient enough to face the sun.

Then all is quiet. All is still except some ringing in my ears. The winds are very gentle up here. It caresses softly through the fur of my hide and mane. It feels as if nature itself is lovingly saying, “Be at ease. You're safe now. I shall not let anything harm you.”

Tears erupt in my eyes again. Just being here already defies my expectations. I suffered through so much trauma recently that I've sort of forgotten what peace feels like. Besides, even before this, I've often lived my life on the edge of adventure. I pushed towards danger while most ponies would run or flap away from it. Such is my lot in life.

At this moment, however, I feel peace trying to settle into me but I don't know how to process it. The stillness. The quiet moment. Just the presence of all that is in this moment.

Emptiness.

It's like the air itself is also pausing to catch its breath.

My muscles relax. Ache steadily leaves me, but there is awareness I've crossed a threshold. Now that I've gotten this far, it's too late to go back. I can't move my muscles anymore right now. It's like I've been struck with rigor mortis.

Actually, maybe there is some truth to that. I am a vampony caught in the light of the sun. That kind of magic doesn't do well in these situations. Sure, the blessing mark on me is slowly working to reverse that process, but it recently started. The vast majority of my blood still leans on the dark side. While that remains true, it is powerless in the shine of the full sunlight.

So that's it. I simply can't move. I can think, but even that feels like such an effort because of how exhausted my emotions made me feel recently.

As I lay there, a few thoughts bubble to the surface of my mind. One of them is Nightmare Moon. I get the feeling she's still waiting for me down below, but her patience will eventually run out, especially considering the fact that she knows the light of the sun is about to hit her. She's just lingering for a few more moments in case she gets another chance to take me out, but eventually she'll flee. She'll probably teleport to who knows where. From there, she can start a new Brood and the nightmare will start all over again.

As I dwell on this thought, fatigue claims me again. It just feels too tiring to merely summon the emotion “worry”. With all the exhaustion I've suffered through, I don't have even that tiny amount to spare.

So I end up dismissing that thought. I resolve to worry about it later.

Then another thought drifts to the surface of my mind. It's something Doctor Van said.

“Courage is the defense against fear,” he once told me in a very serious tone. “And love is the fuel for courage. Constantly remind yourself precisely why it is important for you to remain strong as you face her.”

During the battle, I thought I did, but as I stare at the rising light of the new dawn, certain feelings and instincts rush to claim me. It still feels gentle, like it's asking permission to show me something before it shows me. Since I have nothing better to do at this moment, I allow it.

The visions and feelings that claim me after that seem to have a theme to it. It explores the essence of light magic. Immediately my feelings are drawn to my sister as the first example. The thorn in my hoof, yet a rose too beautiful for me to not love.

I vaguely recall what it felt like when I was first told I would have a baby sister. My parents tried to explain it to me, but I think the majority of it went over my head. The only thing I do recall is a feeling of responsibility sinking into my soul, and at the time, that was new for me.

That feeling only grew stronger when I was in the hospital and it was clear that something was wrong. Everypony was in a panic. I asked multiple times, in what little language I could command at the time, for an explanation on what was going on. But, no matter whom I asked, they told me not to worry while all the while rushing about and screaming as if the building was on fire.

It was only later in life that I learned there were some medical complications with the birth of my baby sister. Complications that followed her virtually her entire life, in fact.

The feeling of responsibility and love only grew stronger as the years passed even if part of me also wanted to chuck her out the window. I actually blamed her for forcing our parents to move to the ground and thus away from the source of my strength. The sky always beckoned me, but here I was . . . on the ground and needing to babysit my little sister. It was maddening.

As time passed and it became more and more clear that she'll never be able to fly, it became harder for me to look at her. A sense of guilt rushed to claim me whenever our eyes met. There was also this kiddish voice in my head that often said with relief, “I'm glad I'm not her, because I love the sky.”

Sometimes I paused to think how I would feel if I had been born as her. To look upon my older sister with painful envy. My older sister . . . the strong one. The one who could always do more than I could, and it seemed clear that would always remain the case. To never know the joys of flying through the air. To be trapped on the ground and forced to merely imagine what it was like. That must have felt so hollow while knowing there were others who could simply take off whenever they felt like it. The weak wings on my back probably would only serve as a reminder of how broken I am. It would just be a taunt. A symbol of being less than I should be.

There was one time, however, that I did carry my sister off into the air. It was not high and I had to do it without our parents permission. They were always worried about how fragile she was, and they were right. What I did back then was gravely irresponsible. It was a moment I later got harshly yelled at for. It was a moment I would never repeat again because of that.

Fortunately for us all, no actual damage was done. Our parents were merely complaining about how bad it could have been.

Nevertheless, I never forgot how much joy she felt back then. I remember she once said, “Look! I'm above the trees! I'm like a bird!”

She had never seen that perspective before except from tall buildings. She had never seen how things just shrink as we fly higher and higher.

I remember that the winds rushed to greet us gently. It felt like playful spirits that were thrilled to finally play with us up there. Charity said that too in one of her many poems since that day.

My relationship with my sister has always been bittersweet, I guess. Always a reminder of what she doesn't have. I think it isn't as bad in both directions as we grew up, but those seeds of bitterness were always there.

The worst thing about those negative feelings was that it also felt worth it because of the love we shared. It made us feel trapped in this uncomfortable situation. It's like I always had to say in my heart, “It is great to be with my beloved sister, but . . .” and the buts never end. Always more excuses. Always more chances for poison to linger in our relationship. We are like masochists, she and I. A sweet tasting poison we just can't help but keep on drinking no matter how much we know it will hurt us.

It's painful to admit, but I was happiest when I put her out of my mind and did it long enough to partially forget about her. It's like I'd always remember if reminded, but until then, she's been out of my mind long enough to become a habit. During those times, I experienced unparalleled freedom. Finally I could soar as fast and as high as I wanted without being burdened by a sense of guilt. I think I even relished that feeling so much, I grew reckless in it. When the glass ceiling finally shattered, I just couldn't wait to see how high I could go no matter how dangerous it might be to myself or others.

But my fall from the Wonderbolt Academy taught me that there are consequences for pushing myself too far. Specifically, I came to regret endangering others the most. Perhaps, by then, I needed that slap of humility, but it's still a painful lesson.

I actually was quite lost since that day until I found a new purpose for myself with the rest of The Washouts. Ever since then, my purpose was renewed, and this time, nothing held us back anymore as long as we kept to one very strict rule; we'll only willingly endanger ourselves or those trying to join us.

This was when my life really took off in a blaze of glory. We did together what we were meant to do, and we were all driven to find the limits of our potential. We'd been all over Equestria doing shows and other daring stunts, even when we didn't have an audience. We did it for practice and we did it for fun.

Like this one time we sailed into an ocean storm over Luna Bay. We rented a ship and just took off to sail into the jaws of the adventure! I remember my thrill as the waves splashed against me. Each time it knocked me down, I got back up. Because of the extra water I carried by then and because of the strain of my muscles, it became increasingly harder to do that each time. But each time I did get back on my hooves as if to challenge nature, “Is that it? Is that all you got? Come at me with everything! I dare you!”

Rolling Thunder felt the same way. She, too, was laughing her flank off with the sheer thrill of it all.

As for Short Fuse? Eh . . . he was being Short Fuse. Always complaining about this and that, but by then, I was used to it. I even found it adorable sometimes.

That was my life. Just the thrill of seeking the next challenge. Just the thrill of defying the next deadly stunt.

Oh, how the crowds loved us for it! The feeling was mutual. I loved them too. I loved the attention. I loved signing our posters for them. I loved flying over the crowd and slapping each of their extended hooves as I passed them. Every single one of them reminded me why I was there. Why all the work and effort we put forward was worth it. We didn't just do it for us. We did it for them. Looking up to a hero is a very big deal. It gives others hope and sometimes even inspires them when they feel weak.

But I never forgot my first fan that started this all; my sister. She was the first to cheer me on, and I was the first to be her hero. Sometimes . . . our relationship just worked for us. We each found our curious little niche.

That's life, isn't it? Everyday we learn something new. Everyday we grow. Everyday is a new chapter in our adventure.

I love it!

Just then, it occurs to me that I no longer feel weak. In fact, all of my vampony hunger is now gone. In its place is a sense of warmth. Of love.

Of light magic, I guess?

I widen my eyes as it further dawns on me that I'm not sure if there is anything in life I truly hate. The core of love has too much gravity beneath it. I love my sister for . . . gosh. All kinds of reasons, I guess. Too many to name despite all of our problems, or perhaps because of them?

I love Short Fuse and Rolling Thunder because I felt like I found my tribe with them. Not only did I get a sense of validation from them, but belonging. They were the partners in my adventures that I thoroughly enjoyed no matter how much Fuse complained. I could overcome this great challenge and feel explosive pride in myself. Then I looked to my right and/or left and they were there with me, enjoying this triumph along with me. It felt all the greater for it, and I felt secure that I had at least one witness. If anypony questioned me about it after that, I felt comforted by knowing I can say to them, “If you don't believe me, just ask them. They were there too. It's not just me.”

It's not just me!

Joy sinks into my heart when I realize I'm not alone in this journey after all. This great journey of life. Just like Rainbow, there are others beside me in my heart as well. I'm not alone.

That thought leads me back to Rainbow, the pony I least forgave in my life until Demise tortured my sister. As I sit here and think about it now, I wonder to myself why I held on to my grudge against Rainbow for this long. When I get down to it, the primary thing my ego latches onto was Rainbow was responsible for the loss of one of my greatest dreams.

But was she? Or did I just do this to myself? And if I had remained in the Academy, the results probably would have always been less than I accomplished later. I wasn't kidding when I told Rainbow, when I finally met her again, that being dropped from the Academy was a blessing in disguise. If that had not happened, I wouldn't have met Thunder and Fuse nor go on all those wonderful adventures together.

But back to Rainbow. Why the grudge?

She's supposed to be the Element of Loyalty. Heck, she was there when the Elements first awakened. She helped to take down Nightmare Moon.

Some of my bitterness against her stems from the fact I considered her a friend during the Academy, and she wasn't loyal to me. When I first met her, I was thrilled. It wasn’t just because she was somewhat of a celebrity. Saving the world is no small feat, but I was more curious about her ability to fly so fast that she could shatter the light spectrum. I wanted to know if I finally met the one who could keep up with me. The one who could thus understand me the best. The sky is our home, and we love to fly fast! To this day, I have never met another equal like Rainbow.

But she betrayed me. She got me kicked out of the Academy. All of those feelings I invested in her earlier turned to ash in my hooves. That was so painful.

In later years, however, I started to wonder how I would have felt if our roles were reversed. If it was my sister in that balloon that got swept up in a reckless tornado that Rainbow had started. For good measure, I could even toss in Fuse and Thunder in that balloon. Ironically all three are pegasi and two of them are even really good at it. However, for the sake of this hypothetical scenario, I'll just pretend that Fuse and Thunder have their wings injured and thus they couldn't fly in that particular moment. That actually happens often enough in real life to make that scenario realistic anyway.

So there it is. Those that I love the most in life, those that I value even above my own life, are about to die in front of me. The tornado snaps the ropes that secures them to the basket and they plunge to their deaths. I have just a few seconds left to save them or something will happen that is beyond my ability to tolerate. I can't even imagine how bad failure in that situation would be. The prospect is just too painful.

Then, to top it all off, it is Rainbow that offers me a hoofbump after all is said and done. She shows no shred of remorse. It doesn't even cross her mind. All she can think about is how thoroughly she blew the competition away. Literally! Doing so establishes her superiority so strongly that it felt like none had a chance to deny it.

In that hypothetical moment, however, when she offers me that hoofbump, all I’d likely be able to think about is she seems proud of the fact that she had just endangered my friends and family. I almost lost something so precious to me that I might have killed myself out of sheer depression afterwards if it had happened, and she has the audacity, the sheer nerve, to offer me a hoofbump in that situation?

In thinking about how I would have felt in her place and why, it causes me to realize that she must have felt like I betrayed her first. I didn't even notice until she got moody about it. Even when I did start to notice her displeasure, I thought I could salvage the situation. Failure really didn't occur to me until it slapped me in the face so hard, it changed my life.

I feel sympathy for Rainbow now because of what she went through back then. I also feel guilty for putting her in that situation in the first place. More than likely she considered me a friend too, but in the end, she was forced to come face to face with her own principals. Had she backed me up after everything that happened, Rainbow would have betrayed herself. She was even willing to back out of the Wonderbolts entirely when it seemed they only supported me and my goals.

I have to admit, if our situations were reversed, I think I would have done the same. If this Academy keeps on seeming to celebrate actions that endanger those that I LOVE . . . then I don't think I'd tolerate it either. At that point I'd feel as if the Academy betrayed me first and thus it is time to go no matter how much I looked up to them before. No matter how much it hurt me to back out. Probably like Rainbow, I never wanted to see myself as a quitter of anything, but sometimes a pony has to draw a line.

This feeling that glows inside me now . . . I wonder if this is how Rainbow felt every time she used her light magic in her most climatic battles. Just this feeling of love. Of care. Of this need to protect others. Is this why her rainbow shines so bright?

I finally pull out the potion vial that contains the essence of pure rainbow. At this moment it feels strongly symbolic. Pure light magic is in my hooves right now. Magic that not only fills this world with light, but multiple spectrums of light. Each color feels important to support the greater whole . . . and only together can it reach its maximum potential.

I look up as a powerful epiphany dawns on me. I finally know what to do with this potion vial.

“Rainbow,” I whisper softly as I press the potion vial against my forehead. “Be with me . . . Fly with me . . . one last time. For the sake of all those we hold dear to us, let's do this.” I grow a cocky smile. “Be my special wingpony one more time.”

Finally I stand up. When I do, I notice I feel stronger than ever before. It stems from this uplifting feeling floating in my chest. It's so strong that my body feels light by default.

Light . . . just like light magic.

Feeling resolved, I crouch down for a moment then burst into the air. I quickly reverse my course and gather the cloud I was resting upon. I also gather other bits of clouds and work to combine them. As I zip around them over and over again, I pour the potion vial into the combined clouds when I feel I have gathered enough. In doing so, I seed the cloud with the rainbow essence. Doing that starts a magical chain reaction. The rainbow essence floods through the clouds then eventually gets too heavy for the clouds to continue to support it. It would have rained the rainbow essence except I fly right through it. In doing so, I gather it up in my lightning wake.

Down below me, Nightmare Moon gazes up at me in astonished horror as she sees me zipping down with a trail of lightning and a rainbow. As I continue to fly down towards her, I feel myself pushing through something I can barely identify. It's very hard to push through this thing, whatever it is, but I hold my feelings close to my heart to give me an extra burst of determination.

Then I succeed. I break through the . . . Well. I don't really know what to call it. All I do know is I suddenly burst into a far greater speed than I have ever flown before. At the exact moment I do it is when I pass through Nightmare's smoky form.

Gazing back, I widen my eyes in awe and delight when I finally see the legendary Sonic Rainboom explode exactly where Nightmare is. Rainbow light spreads in every direction, but slowly this time. In addition, lightning arcs towards Nightmare in various different colors. All the colors of the rainbow keep zapping where the modified Sonic Rainboom started.

This overwhelms Nightmare because this is pure light magic. Her dark essence cannot regenerate from a blow like this. More importantly, it pushes her beyond the breaking point.

She falls down from the sky. As the black smoke around her fades away, I see it is now Demise that is falling in the sky.

With a lightning and rainbow trail continuing to follow me, I loop back around and catch her before she hits the ground.

I actually fly us much further from where we started, but due to my greatly accelerated velocity, we arrive there within minutes. When we do land, it is at a beach near, but not at, Pony Island. Ahead of us, the sun is about to rise.

With her in my forehooves, Demise starts to regain consciousness. She looks about her in confusion, gathering her surroundings. When she sees me, she gives me a bitter hiss.

“You should have let me die,” Demise tells me bitterly.

“Is that what you really want?” I ask her softly without a hint of malice in my voice.

It takes her a while to answer, but she eventually closes her eyes and simply says, “Yes.”

I nod in acceptance as I reply, “Then I will stay by your side to the end.”

That comment provokes her to open her eyes at me again. She stares at me in confusion before she asks, “What's wrong with you? You seem different.”

I smile softly as I ask, “What's wrong with me? Not a thing. In fact, at this moment, all I can feel is what is right with me, which is pretty much everything.”

Demise's chin wrinkles bitterly as she says, “So you're proud of the fact that you've annihilated my Brood, huh? You finally get to slay your hated heartless monster.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I'm just glad to spend these last few moments with a dear friend.”

Her confusion returns.

I laugh playfully and with pure joy before I shake my head and say, “It's hard to explain it, but I'm filled with light magic right now. It's wonderful. Beyond anything I can ever describe.”

She continues to stare at me in confusion and suspicion for a little while longer but her expression eventually softens as she asks me, “You really think I am a friend?”

“I do,” I reply with complete sincerity.

“Huh.” She looks down at the cresting sunrise now. “That's what I always wanted ever since I saw you.”

“Really?” I ask with delight.

“Yes,” she confirms. “I thought that maybe . . . you'd understand us. Understand me. I thought you'd understand our burdens and our plights.”

“I guess I do,” I say with a touch of uncertainty. “Certainly I do wish things had turned out better. In another life, perhaps, maybe . . .” I trail off. I feel tears rise to my eyes. It's curious. I feel so much joy in me, yet there is sadness too.

Several minutes pass between us in silence. During that time, we watch the ocean waves recede and come back. The rhythmic song of nature continues its dance ever onward.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask as I continue to stare enchanted out into the ocean waves.

“You just did,” Demise mildly scoffs in a tone of amusement. When I look down at her to show how serious I still am, her amusement drops and she just nods at me.

“When was the last time you saw the sunrise?” I ask her.

The moment I ask, I see deep thought sink into her eyes as she searches back on her memories for that answer. In her case, if she was telling me the truth all along about how old she is, she has to search through a great deal of memories indeed.

“I . . . truly don't recall,” she eventually replies then shakes her head a bit. “That is kind of logical. Considering how old I am, that's like asking me to recall the moment I was born.” She slowly closes her eyes. “I do recall the time I was transformed into a vampony . . . and there are some memories I hold before that. Precious memories. Precious stones . . . but the sunrise isn't one of them. That really is too far back for me.”

She slowly opens her eyes as she beholds this sunset.

There's not much time, I realize.

“I don't even recall . . . the first time I realized that,” she muses further. “The first time I realized that I don't recall how bright it could be or the colors it can make in the sky. Right now . . . it sort of feels like I'm beholding it for the first time ever.”

“And what do you think?” I check with her.

She doesn't answer me right away. About another minute slides by as she just absorbs this experience before finally growing a dim smile and saying, “I like it. It's very pretty.”

She closes her eyes again as she takes a deep intake and exhales breath before adding very calmly, “I also feel peaceful . . . for the first time that I can ever recall.”

“Then be with that moment, Demise,” I encourage her. “From now on . . . this gift is yours.”

“Sakura Breeze,” she tells me mysteriously, which causes me to tilt my head curiously. She cracks her eyes at me as she explains, “That was my name before I became Demise.”

I smile down at her gently. I feel filled with gratitude that she was willing to share that name with me and that we're sharing this last moment together.

I close my eyes softly and bend down to kiss her forehead goodbye. As I do so, she also closes her eyes peacefully while the sunlight finally hits her directly. She bursts into flames, but gently. For some reason it doesn't hurt me either. If anything, she feels even more comfortable as the sun's rays claim her and washes away all the remains of her dark energy. In the end, her ashes scatter into the winds like black cherry blossoms caught in the breeze.

Now she's gone. There is no more weight on my forehooves.

I look up into the sky as I bid her goodbye. I wish for her to continue to find the peace in the afterlife that she didn't have in life.

Then I turn to face the rising sunlight fully. I smile at its gentle glow. I marvel at the beautiful pink clouds shining on the horizon.

As I continue to sit there and watch the light of the dawn sparkle off the waves, I notice a deep sense of inner peace settle in my soul. At this moment it feels like I'm inwardly much taller. Far more mature than I used to be. Along with that feeling is a sense of confidence that I can hoofle whatever else life decides to throw at me, and I'll be glad to meet that challenge. This latest journey has been very trying for me, but equally fruitful. I'm glad I took it, and I can't wait to find out what will happen to me next.

Just then, the ocean breeze gently passes through me. Curiously, I smell the scent of cherry blossoms within it. It actually feels like a message to me from Sakura's spirit. A message that basically thanks me for forgiving her. Because I did that, she was able to rest peacefully in the afterlife. Also, because I forgave her, it sets me free too.

I close my eyes and smile as joyful tears rise in my eyes. I savor this moment of peace, gratitude, inner peace, and freedom.

All of this is life. Just a beautiful life. These treasures have always been there. We just need to claim them.

When I wake up, I am surrounded by a curious sight. I could have sworn I fell asleep on the beach, but now I'm back up in the sky. I notice that night has reclaimed these lands, too.

Actually, it is a particularly beautiful night. Up above me, the stars twinkle very brightly. It's probably because the night sky between them is so very dark. I can even see stars up there that I don't always see.

My surroundings, too, are enchanting. The clouds I am on glow with a very luminous glow. This, in turn, draws my attention up where I see the full moon glowing softly and brightly.

“How pretty!” I marvel in a foal-like wonder.

I am surprised again when I see a beam of moonlight shoot down from the moon itself. It touches down on the clouds I am upon. Shortly thereafter, a cool mist rises above the clouds. It gets pretty thick, but it also glows because of the direct beam of the moonlight above.

Shortly later, out of that mist, steps a regal mare with a dark hide. Like Nightmare, she also has a chest guard but it's much smaller this time. Far less threatening, but it also supports the image of a crescent moon. She seems to be wearing glass horseshoes that proceed only an inch above her hooves. She wears a tiny black crown. Her mane and tail seem to be windows to the stars. Right now I can also see some twinkling lights near her person. She has her wings spread out to her sides just a bit.

“Princess Luna!” I cry in delight before bowing to her. Now this one is worthy of my respect and admiration. “Welcome.” I grin a bit as I add, “I suppose I was expecting you.”

“Please rise,” this wonderful mare says in a gentle voice. “You need not bow for me tonight. I am a guest in your dream, after all. I hope I am welcome.”

“You most certainly are, dear princess,” I say with delight as I indeed rise before her. “I repeat; welcome.”

“I shall not tarry long, at least not on this night,” she tells me. “For now, I have a simple message for you. One of a deeply personal nature.”

I feel a part of me brace myself the moment I hear that. When I calm back down, I nod for her to continue.

She nods back before she says, “I just wanted to say . . . thank you.”

I grow a soft smile as I continue to regard her, but it fades again when I notice tears start to rise in her eyes.

“Thank you for rejecting my false shadow,” she goes on to say as her voice grows less steady. She looks like she is struggling to keep her composure, but she's quickly losing. In the end, she can no longer meet my eyes. Her face wrinkles with pain and her wings lower as if she lost all of her strength to continue to hold them aloft. From her, I can sense these overwhelming feelings of guilt.

“Thank you for believing . . . in the real me,” Princess Luna finishes almost with a squeak on the last word. She barely gets those words out before she lowers her head and bursts into a sob. Her shoulders bob with each heave of her sob.

My soft smile towards her recovers, but this time tears rise to my own eyes. I feel so much sympathy and love for this mare. I just know in my heart some part of her continues to torture herself because of the atrocities she's done as Nightmare Moon. This latest escapade is likely yet another dagger into her gentle and loving heart. After all, a lot of ponies died horribly across these centuries because of the cultists of Nightmare Moon, not to mention all the damage the closing of the Red Moon on Nightmare Night must have done.

Unable to help myself, I trot next to her and simply embrace her with my forelegs and wings. When I do so, I feel a brief sort of resistance and stiffening from her as if she questions her worthiness of this action. In the end, however, her pain is too great. It is matched only by her desperate need for comfort and forgiveness. She finally settles into me and nuzzles her head gently over my shoulders as she continues to cry her pain away.

Epilogue The Final Report

Dear Princess Celestia

Glad tidings on this day, Your Majesty.

Well, for the most part, at any rate.

I am happy to report that an entire Brood of that which shall not be named shall trouble your citizens no longer. As well, I am pleased to inform you that I also helped to recover one of your citizens who was on the brink of being turned. Fortunately for us all, she had not killed yet and her heart was ready to embrace the Light once again.

More curious still is the aftermath of her adventures. This one goes by the name of Lightning Dust. Perhaps you heard of her? She once led some curious band of misfits that call themselves The Washouts. I don't know. I never saw one of their shows and it continues to hold very little interest for me, but supposedly they are acclaimed for daredevil stunts that would make even the Wonderbolts balk. Hence the name of their group, in fact. The tales say they are, all of them, washouts of the Wonderbolt Academy.

Anyway, I had once feared for Lightning Dust's psychological stability in the aftermath of our adventures together. She aided me in this victory this time, most assuredly because of certain personal stakes that were involved in this case.

But when I last met the young lass, she was in a curious sense of peace that I have rarely encountered before. Regardless, I recognize the symptoms. Had I not, I might have insisted upon mental therapy for her post haste.

It is clear to me that this one found her enlightenment in her darkest hour. It pains me that she had to endure these awful trials, but she seems to have come out all the better. All the stronger with a greater sense of purpose and peace into her life. Whatever the case may be, I wish her well in her journey, ere wherever those fateful winds may carry her. I even inquired about it once. In reply, she just gave me this peaceful smile. In that moment I realized she had not lost her sanity after all. More to the contrary. She is among the rare few in our world to actually find her sanity. More power to her.

As for her sister, Sweet Charity, I regret to inform you that the news isn't as bright, but she's stable and recovering. I know of some reputable therapists and I was sure to pass along that information as well. That is where I suspect she'll face her longest road to recovery, but she's moving in the right direction so I remain hopeful that these awful trials will not keep her down. It is more than a little likely that the trial she survived with this endeavor will find its way into her written works for therapeutic reasons if nothing else. If so, she’ll be in very good compony.

As I beheld her while she rested in the hospital, I saw a golden light from your Glorious Sun lit her as it beamed upon her through a curtain which softly blew in the breeze. It was then that I was reminded of one of the poems she wrote. The one about a gentle but beautiful flower that hid very strong roots. A flower that watched on as the seasons rolled by.

Yes. I have strong faith in her indeed.

As for me, Your Majesty, I request your blessings to retire these old and tired bones. It has noticeably become quite the liability lately. The degree in which Miss Dust needed to aid me helped to remind me of my own failings.

Now mind you, I do not entirely wish to give up the fight. Rather than that, I shall seek an apprentice. With your permission, of course.

Things being as they are, it seems clear to me that the threat of Nightmare Moon lingers in the hearts of many still in the aftermath of this latest adventure. My brightest hope in the wake of this latest tragedy is that it shall serve as a catalyst for better things to come.

Maybe we have been too secretive. The public needs to know that there are threats out there worth countering. There is only so long tired old hunters can carry the torch aloft.

But in my heart, that is what I shall always do. I want peace to settle into these lands again, and I want to heal . . . in more ways than one. From this moment forth, I pledge to save at least ten lives for every one I ever took.

Please give my heartfelt regards to your sister as well. I'm sure the recent endeavors were quite a shock for her too. Even if I can't say it myself, she has always had my greatest sympathies even when she was Nightmare Moon. That mare, above all else, was the greatest victim in this affair.

But she has you now, and you have her. Knowing that eases the burdens of my heart.

So without further adieu, and with my utmost respects, I shall now plunge daringly into the depths of a new life. I shall work to build a new hospital with my rather sizable retirement funds. May it forever stand as a testament to my truest intentions for this world.

Love and Light forever onward.

Tired yet ever hopeful old hunter and healer

Doctor Van Horseling

P.S: You owe me a cake for this one.

Prologue: Dear Princess Celestia

Dear Princess Celestia

Forgive this old pony for writing to you in your twilight years of retirement. Old habits die hard, I'm afraid. Just like these old bones.

I want to make it clear upfront that I do not, in any way, necessarily distrust your protege, but She is the Princess of Friendship, and you? You're an ancient alicorn privy to certain, shall we say, less than friendly secrets of our lands. While you may rest, and well deserved I might add, evil does not rest. For as long as it does not, neither shall I.

I wish I could say my years have been as relaxing as yours. I suppose, in a way, I could say that. I haven't found as many cases to work on. At least, not the kind of cases old ponies, such as us, need to keep in the dark for the greater good of Equestria. But, as you know all too well, there are things that go bump in the night. By necessity, there are old forces, like me, who must, indeed, bump back.

While my general time has been more relaxing and sometimes even indulgent, I recently stumbled upon a new Brood that is in desperate need of retirement of their own, and yes, I did say “is”. They very much are on the prowl now at their usual time. After centuries of being hunted, those who have lasted this long can be subtle. Regardless, due to the secret nature of my, shall we say, less than public profession, I am concerned with how I might not be replaced with an apprentice. Makes me wonder which side will outlast the other.

In any case, the reason this letter finds you, Your Majesty, is to give some explanation in case I won't be given the opportunity to write you another. Such is the nature of my profession. As skilled as I might be, there's always a chance that this could be my last case . . . one way or another.

But I am not a cold or a heartless pony. As much as that could have been useful, it still breaks my heart whenever I have to report news such as this, for you are the Radiant Sun. You are the Light of Equestria. You are the source of strength I draw upon to deal the final blow on these wicked Children of the Night. The abhorrent spawn of Nightmare.

I still don't know if you have given any of this information to your beloved sister. I think I wouldn't know what to tell her in your place. As always, Your Majesty, I defer to your most benevolent and wise judgment, though I do not envy you for your burdens. I never have. That's why I have labored my whole life lightening some of that burden for you as much as these old bones possibly could.

For when I witness the rise of your radiant dawns, I always long to imagine that your smile rises with it just as brightly.

I say this unto you with all due sincerity, Your Majesty, Light and Love of the Radiant Dawn, please be well. Let your worries and burdens ever remain in retirement as much as it can be. While you do, I'll take care of that which yet lurks in the Darkness of the Night.

Ever your Beloved and Humble Servant

Doctor Van Horseling

Chapter 7: The Price for Immortality

Author's Note

This is the chapter that changed the story from T to M rating, specifically for the "death" and "violence" genre tags. Consider this a trigger warning for those two categories. Vampires are not just ancient teachers or romanticized ego trips that "sparkle in the daylight" after all. The plan here is to show the grimmer side of their mythos too. Far more than the original show would or could have.

Chapter 7: The Price for Immortality

As I gradually stirred awake, I grew more confused because the new setting I found myself in was drastically different from the one I recall passing out from. Last I checked, I passed out in an alleyway, but then I found myself in a soft bed in some sort of cave system. Moreover, all of my surroundings had some kind of weird glow to them as if I could visibly see their aura. It took a while for it to dawn on me that the cave system was actually in total darkness. The “lights” that I saw stemmed from another source. It sort of looked like everything around me was enveloped by a unicorn's magical glow. Each object even radiated its own color, or it prismatically shifted through a whole spectrum of colors if it was an especially large object like the cave walls themselves.

I was startled when a hoof softly caressed my cheek. When I looked up at the source, I saw Demise looking down at me with an almost motherly sort of warmth to her expression.

“I imagine you had quite the day today,” Demise figured aloud. She leaned down as she said to me more closely, “A word of advice. The next time you try to seek us out at the Fairgrounds, try the night shift.”

“Where am I?” I demanded to know tensely.

“Shh-shh-shh-shh-shhhhhh,” Demise smoothly hushed me in a way that's like speaking softly to a beloved child. “The answers to your questions will soon be revealed. In fact, that is partly why we have taken you here.”

“Which is where?” I demanded again.

“Our lair,” Demise answered. “In the caverns of Ghastly Gorge.”

I grew alarmed upon hearing that news then scanned my surroundings on high alert.

Seeing my reaction caused Demise to playfully laugh before she told me when she had my attention again, “Fear not about the giant eels. We have sort of a truce going on with them. They leave us alone, and in turn, they get to not die. It's a beneficial arrangement.” She looked outward as she added, “We sort of think of them like guard dogs.”

I lifted an eyebrow as I asked her, “You think of the giant eels as pets?”

“Sort of,” she answered me as she looked back at me. “And why not? They are no threat to us. Not even close. Not after what we have become.”

“Which is?” I asked cautiously.

“Eternal servants of the Night,” she answered me. “Basically Nightmare's honor guard.”

I shook my head as I said in objection, “But Nightmare is defeated.”

In turn, she shook her head as she said, “No. She's merely suppressed. Imprisoned under the shadow of her false self. We were the ones who helped to aid her escape from the moon, but we had no idea she would soon find herself locked in a different prison shortly thereafter.” She tapped her head as she said, “Only this time it is a prison for her mind. Nightmare is under an enchantment that is literally forcing her into thinking she's Princess Luna when, in fact, she is a far greater being.”

I still felt confused, but I decided to let that subject slide in favor of another which I considered of greater importance.

“Why me?” I asked her. “What have you done to me, and why have you chosen me?”

“The answer to your first question was to transform you into something that will help you to fulfill the greatest potential of your destiny,” she answered me. “As for the second question, we've chosen you because you are one of the greatest fliers in Equestria. A skill that can only be equaled by your greatest rival, Rainbow Dash.”

Demise tilted her head and grinned at me in amusement when I flinched and almost hissed at the mere mention of that name.

“Yes, we know about you two very well,” Demise went on. “Just as we also know, Nightmare once approached Rainbow Dash herself and offered for her to join the ShadowBolts first. During that time, Nightmare took on our form as she made this offer, but Rainbow spurned it.” Demise snarled in disgust. “Too much of that revolting light magic corrupted her which prevented her from realizing the full potential of Nightmare’s offer.”

“Nightmare took your form?” I asked in confusion. “But if you were there, why didn't you just ask Rainbow yourself?”

“Because we weren't there,” she answered. “Not yet, at any rate.”

I'm I looked even more confused as I asked, “But . . . if you weren't there, how could you possibly know about Nightmare's offer to Rainbow?”

“Because Nightmare still speaks to us through our dreams,” she told me. “And me in particular. I'm sort of like the High Priestess of this Brood.” She leaned down as she told me emphatically, “Which is also how we still know Nightmare is in there inside of her, scraping desperately to get out and all the while screaming with raw fury at this indignity she's forced to suffer. She wants to be free . . . and as her greatest servants, we shall aspire to fulfill her every desire. In return, she grants us eternal life.” She sat up straight as she added, “Furthermore, once she is free, we shall rule as her greatest servants. We shall become Royal Ladies of her Eternal Night Court.

“As for why we've chosen you, it is because you're one of two of the best fliers in Equestria. You're so good that you can not only keep up with the legendary Rainbow Dash, you can actually keep up with us even though you were a mere mortal, so how much greater shall you be when you become further augmented by our dark magic strength? We're thinking you may become great enough to serve as our Wing Commander. That is to say, the leader of the ShadowBolts.” She nodded to me as she said, “I'll continue to serve on a religious front and let the Brood know the Will of her Dark Majesty, but you shall serve as our military leader.”

I mulled this over for a moment until she spoke to me again.

“Join us, Lightning! It is your destiny!” she told me with husky excitement in her tone like a sinister demon of temptation. “It's the perfect fit. Rainbow had talent, but she didn't have the heart for our work. You do, and your talent rivaled her even without our undead strength.

“And we heard about you in the Wonderbolt Academy and precisely why you 'washed out',” she said with hoof quotes. “You washed out because you wouldn't let anything or anypony stand in your way. You knocked aside your competition indiscriminately without any remorse simply because they were in your way! Not only did you refuse to allow anypony to hold you back, but you flaunted your superiority proudly as anypony with your set of mighty skills should. That doesn't just demonstrate great and criminally underutilized talent, but it is also a demonstration of the kind of moral character we are looking for. Somepony who not only has the talents we need, but is fully willing to utilize them.” She gestured to herself as she added, “We are great fliers as well, but everything we can accomplish now is but a mere extension of our raw talent alone. We are this good precisely because of our dark magic abilities; also, we can take things much further because things that are gravely perilous to a mortal is, at most, a mere temporary inconvenience to the likes of us. There is no reason to resist flying into a lightning storm, for example, when we also know that we can simply regenerate from any damage it could potentially cause to us.

“But, with your training, and with you leading the charge, the Shadowbolts could serve at their full potential. Just imagine what we could do with overwhelming talent combined with actually refined, military-like training and precision. At that point nopony, not even the legendary Wonderbolts, could possibly hold a candle to us. They might as well be spiraling and ever dizzy Dust in our wind wake.” She chuckled darkly because of the added pun of using my last name in that sentence.

She paused for a moment as she took a deep intake of breath then exhaled it before going on to say, “Think about it, Lightning. The Wonderbolts, the very organization you once looked up to and who foolishly cast you out, shall be reduced to nothing more than a living joke because, not only can they physically not keep up with us in every possible way that matters, they'd be unwilling to even try because of 'safety' reasons. After all, who wants to be stuck in a full body, wing, and hoof cast, drinking from a straw?”

Now that comment cracked me up a little bit, especially when she made a mockery imitation of Spitfire with that last sentence.

“You can show them, and everypony, what your full potential is without any holds barred,” she went on. “To show how far they could have gone if they simply had the courage and fortitude to proceed as far as you have.

“Isn't this what you wanted, Lightning? To have your strength, glory, and sheer superiority acknowledged in an utterly undeniable way? Haven't you wanted to be a leader to take others under your glorious wings? To be looked up to and aspired to . . . forever?

“Well, instead of simply having a statue made in your honor, why not settle for the real thing? As an ever immortal being, you'll constantly be available to flaunt your talents and remind others who is really in charge throughout all time. Anything you want in life can be achieved because of your constant supply of effort. No matter who tries to resist you in any endeavor you ever try, they can't possibly outlast you if they are mortal, so that which cannot lose shall always, inevitably, and eventually win in the end. It's only a matter of time which is now something you have in infinite supply.”

There was a moment of silence as she allowed what she said to sink in before she stood up and said, “Think about it.

“For now, come. There's something else I need to show you.”

Feeling enchanted and more than a little tempted because of what she said and the way she said it, I arose as I asked her, “What is it?”

She smiled at me as she said, “Something else you'll need to know in order for you to fulfill that destiny.”

As I followed Demise through the caverns of Ghastly Gorge, I was struggling to adjust to my new reality. Whatever these creatures were, whatever I had become, had shattered my previous sense of normalcy. The ability to see energy in the dark made it so that I could see in the dark more brightly than I ever had, except the light sources weren't localized to any one thing like the sun in the sky. Instead, it was all around us and it, quite frankly, was very beautiful to behold.

It took me a while to notice that I didn't just see the energy, I could feel it too. It gave off a sort of warmth that was similar to the sun, but it tingled more, sort of like electrical energy.

Well . . . at least I figured out how these mares were able to navigate these tunnels so clearly before. The simple fact of the matter was they actually could see, and feel, in pure darkness, and now so could I.

When we arrived where Demise was leading me, I couldn't even tell that the lighting situation had changed until I got close enough to the new light sources which caused my eyes to wince because they needed to adjust. I thought the light sources there, which were like four torches, were just another random aura color like everything else there because those particular torches emitted light in an unusual way. To start with, the color. It was off. It was dark purple and green with swirls of black within them. Those light sources also did not flicker with light in a way typical fire did, thus signaling that they were not, in fact, actual fire. Rather than that, it looked more like luminous gas due to its billowing and swirling pattern.

Unlike most of the energy patterns I saw and felt throughout the cavern, the ones coming off of those mares, those torch-like things, and the big statue of Nightmare Moon, was radiating a different kind of energy that honestly felt more sickly and twisted. The statue in question was gazing down with a leering facial expression as if she was excitedly about to eat that which was below the statue.

As I gazed upon that statue, it occurred to me that I had seen statues like this in many places throughout Equestria. They were especially common during one holiday, in particular, that was about to come up in a couple of nights; Nightmare Night.

There was no doubt in my mind that that statue was designed for that holiday originally, but the servants of her cult commandeered one of them and had been imbuing it with real dark magic.

Twelve other mares were there, but unlike Demise, they were wearing flight suit uniforms that were mostly dark purple except on the head area. That area looked mostly black with a crooked line design resembling a lightning bolt serving as the border between the black part and the dark purple part. Their eyes were also concealed in what looked like shiny golden goggles except the strap was hidden beneath the mask, unlike the Wonderbolts uniform. Another area that was black was the front at the chest area which also had a bolt design. Also, the legs were black which ended in the same pattern. The uniform covered about ninety percent of their body. About the only things they didn't cover were their wings, mouth, muzzle, ears, mane, and tail.

On that night, the mares in question were swirling and dancing in what appeared to be some kind of ritualistic practice. I was also startled to see that they had physically changed since I last saw them, specifically in three ways. For one, their wings were now leathery like a bat. Two, they had two long upper fangs hanging down, and three, the fur extending off their ears appeared a few inches taller.

But, by far, what was most alarming about this setting was what was some ponynapped colt here. He was tied up on some stone slab almost directly under the Nightmare Night statue. All four of his hooves were tied up separately and the ropes had forced each of his limbs apart in an X pattern. He looked to be about ten-ish years old. He was a brown coat colt wearing a white and yellow striped baseball shirt and had a baseball cap still on his head. He also sported a cutie mark of a baseball bat that just collided with a baseball. There were blurry energy lines around the baseball as if to indicate the motion that the ball was about to fly away from the bat at a very high speed. What likely wasn't so standard to that uniform was the fact that the colt was also gagged.

Horror and wrongness sank into the pit of my stomach at the sight of the colt here, but I looked at Demise with apparent calmness that also demanded an explanation for this. I decided not to jump to conclusions just yet.

Funny enough, the first question I asked her was, “What's the colt's name?”

To answer, Demise shrugged carelessly as she answered, “I don't know, nor is that important right now, especially after what is about to happen to him soon.” She passed me a coy, wicked grin as she advised, “A word of warning; don't get too attached to the young lad. Right now I'm just demonstrating a point and showing you something you'll absolutely need to know to continue this existence.”

While still holding her wicked and coy smile, she held up a wing to block her face from my perspective then lowered it a second later. When she did, I noticed she was then holding a metal baseball bat.

“One thing I actually do know about the boy is his love for this sport,” Demise told me. “If you had eyes in your head and used them, you might find more than one clue hinting to that fact on his person. Knowing that, I'll give him a dose of cruel and delicious irony.”

“Excuse me?!” I asked incredulously with deepening horror. “You're not going to do what I think you're going to do . . . are you?”

“Just relax and watch,” Demise advised. “Meanwhile, it's time for this batter to step up to the plate.”

She laughed a bit as she smoothly stepped away from my side towards the boy. As she did so, the other mares continued to dance around this statue within the radius of the sickly purple and greenish light. Once they were all together, they sang and danced together in some language I couldn't understand. As they did that, the boy struggled in his ropes and cried out as loudly as the gag allowed him to. I saw him crying. He was clearly there unwillingly.

My mind blanked out as my body froze in terror. What tiny portion of my sanity that was left was struggling to deny this reality out of pure necessity. The words “this can't be happening” repeated over and over in my mind and for far more than one reason. Not only was my whole world turning upside down right at that very moment, but it was also inverting horrifyingly. Warping in some tragic and also . . . nightmarish way?

When that last thought clicked into place, I looked up at the statue since I had, at last, made some logical connection. All of a sudden I realized that this whole scenario was designed to inspire fear, at least for me and the boy. When that thought clicked into place, it suddenly occurred to me that this whole scenario might be some sort of prank. Even my ability to see aura colors could be part of that prank, but if it was, then it was likely that real magic was involved to cause it at some level. Maybe a magic potion I was forced to swallow while unconscious?

“Nightmare Moon . . . luminous Lady of the Night . . . hear our plea!” ritualistically cried out Demise as she lifted the baseball bat towards the statue as if asking the statue to bless this object. “Hear your Children of the Night. Tonight we dance in succulence and ecstasy as we pray to your ever-divine and glorious majesty! Before you, we bow humbly as we extend this offering. Above us, your luminous moon glows fully and brightly like an eye in the sky gazing down upon our glorious work to you. TONIGHT we feast upon this lowly and pathetic mortal, and in your name . . . we shall serve and enjoy life everlasting!”

“Stronger in death!” the other mares chanted simultaneously. “Life everlasting!”

Demise slowly lowered the bat from the Nightmare statue above her. When she did, I noticed new blackish energy glowed around the bat as if it was, indeed, enchanted with something but it clearly wasn't sacred. With her new prize in hoof, she finally addressed the chosen victim directly. She smoothly and languidly crouched down closer to his level on the slab. Once she did, she removed the gag from his mouth for some reason.

While still whimpering, the colt struggled to calm down just enough to communicate. When he did to some degree, he begged, “Please, lady, please . . . let me go. I just want to go home.”

“Shh-shh-shh-shhhhh!” Demise bid almost tenderly as she softly brushed a hoof across his cheek. In doing so, she wiped off a tear. “Thy nightmare shall soon come to an end, but not without one last glorious hurrah. When that passes, all other struggles in this life will come to a permanent end.”

“I didn't do anything to you! I didn't do anything!” the boy cried out as he whimpered harder. “Please . . . just let me go. I won't say anything! I swear.”

Demise leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, “I believe you.”

Somehow, despite my distance, I still heard that. I wondered if the others had as well.

Demise then stood up straight and gave a hoisting motion with the hoof that wasn't touching the end of the baseball bat. In response, the ropes that were tied to his limbs got pulled further apart, but moreover, he was being raised off the slab itself specifically by the rope's new elevated height.

“Ow! No no! Please let me go! Plah-ha-heeeese let me go-ho-hoooo!” the boy stuttered in pure pain and terror as he struggled and wiggled in his ropes while he was lifted.

During that moment, Demise ignored his pleas as she turned around to face the statue, bowing to it one more time. When she did, she draped her right wing across her chest and extended her left wing up and back. While she held this pose, she said, “For you, Your Majesty. May the terror and anguish of this little one sustain you and strengthen you until the glorious night when your Night, and Nightmares, shall become everlasting!”

Suddenly, Demise whirled around and struck the boy in the left rib cage area which had been suspended before her and away from the stone slab, thus making him an easier target to strike. I heard the sound of his rib cage cracking. The boy hollered out in pure and excruciating agony, yet even as that happened, a part of my mind continued to deny this desperately. This had to be a trick!

However, in the next moment, I started to observe what might be the real point of the attack. After he got struck, magical energy leaked from his body and it wasn't originating from his wounded area precisely. Instead, it was more like a gas that rose from all over his body. The moment it did, it suddenly streamed out to every mare in the area except me. Curiously, some of it even seemed to stream into the Nightmare statue as well. I would even venture to say that the lion's share of that energy was immediately sucked into the statue and, just like the others, the energy funneled into their mouths in particular.

There was another reaction to this part of the ritual, too. The mares around this area shuddered as if they, too, had been struck. The only difference was, instead of screaming in pain, they screamed in pleasure. Their scream was almost as intense as his was, too, though it was also about a second delayed.

When these wicked mares recovered somewhat, Demise struck again. This time the baseball bat collided with the left pelvic bone and appeared to shatter it. The boy's shrill cry of pure agony renewed after it briefly died down as if Demise was waiting for him to recover slightly before revving up his pain anew. He cried harder this time, and a second later, so did the other ladies.

But as his cries continued, the mares, aside from me and Demise, resumed their dance. Their faces were swimming with pure ecstasy and almost sexual-looking pleasure. As I continued to observe this, it occurred to me that there was a direct correlation between how much he was in pain and how much pleasure they were enjoying. It was as if one directly caused the other.

And I just stood there . . . too numb to even feel a sense of denial. I was too overwhelmed for any coherent thought or feeling. I was broken. I was like a bucket, or barrel, with no bottom anymore. Any attempt at thoughts and/or feelings would just fall through this endless black pit beneath it.

Despite overwhelming sensations pulsing all around me, my senses started to grow numb and distant. My vision darkened and ringing arose in my ears. I stared forward blankly and lividly as if all light and life was drained from my soul, leaving me feeling colorless. As this continued, I very vaguely got the sense of time slowing down. Motion slowed. Colors dimmed. The sound got drowned out by the ringing in my ears.

I honestly didn't know how long this continued. Things continued to happen in front of me but I didn't register it, nor did I wish to. I could almost feel my brain looking upon this memory at this very moment and deciding on the spot, “You know what? This is too strong for me to hoofle, so I'm going to bury this. There is simply nothing else I can figure out what to do with this awful piece of garbage. It's just too strong. Too overwhelming. It really can't be real, so there is no reason to hold on to that which is fake.”

I fell to all four of my knees back at that moment with a blank, far-out, and livid stare. By that point, I felt dizzy as if I was standing on water. Everything about my environment swirled and rippled around me which even further added to the surreal sensation of it all and therefore even further seemed to verify that that moment had to be fake. Normal life does not ripple like this as if I were underwater, at least not while I stood on dry land.

Very slowly and gradually, my senses returned to me along with my wits. When it did, I noticed things had calmed down around me too. The ripple of energy in the air wasn't as intense which therefore reduced my sense of vertigo. The mares seemed to have calmed down as well and were relaxing on the floor as if recovering from the strain of several explosive orgasms.

It was at that moment it finally dawned on me why these mares felt so different from anything I've ever known. That gut feeling I had ever since I first met them finally has a word for them; demons! These aren't ponies, despite their appearance. They were pure and true demons! Nopony I had ever met acted anywhere near this depraved. The closest life form I had ever encountered to something like this was Lord Tirek when he drained my magic in Mustangia. I remembered how that sensation felt when all of my magic was drained from my body. This boy's twisted and then mangled body looked like that too. Not only did he look beaten within an inch of his life, but I finally noticed that his color was drained, too. That meant only one thing; he had lost the vast majority of his magic.

Yet even Tirek didn't relish the power he stole from his victims to this degree. He had more of a warrior mentality. What he had done was simply a means to an end for him. Yes, he did enjoy it some, but it was in pursuit of a larger goal.

In contrast, inflicting pain and terror seemed to be the entire point of this ritual. That, too, was a means to an end, in a way. They acted like this method was required for them to drain his magic, and since they worshiped Nightmare Moon, a creature that feeds off of fear, it weirdly made a sort of sense in this case.

Nevertheless, they relished their job far beyond what they had to. This wasn't just a sacred duty to these mares, it was their downright pleasure to do this.

Normal ponies were not like this. In contrast, they sort of tended to have this happy obliviousness to them. With everything they do, there was this undeniable sense of innocence. There was a skip to their step that was just a heartbeat away from breaking out into a full-fledged song and dance with the rest of the town around them. They prance in the light with the simple joy of just being alive. Magic and harmony influenced them all, at least on a subconscious level.

That was not always apparent in normal ponies, but tended to be true more often than not.

“Kill me,” the boy whimpered extremely faintly. Blood, mixed with tears, dripped from his eyes during that moment. “Please just kill me.”

I looked back at him when he said that. When I did, I realized that the sight that greeted me was none other than a young, innocent boy who had given up all sense of hope for recovery. At that point, he could only see one possible option for salvation from this nightmare, and that was to die.

“Shh-shh-shh-shhhh,” Demise hushed him as she bent down and tenderly kissed him on his forehead. “My precious little pony . . . thank you. Thank you for all you have unwillingly given us. We shall cherish this gift for all of eternity.”

“Please just kill me,” he whimpered harder as his face scrunched and his lips quivered in both emotional and physical agony. No doubt he was also mourning the fact he would never see his loving family ever again, nor would they see him either. All his goals and hopes for the future were dashed too. Stolen by these wicked mares.

“As you wish,” Demise whispered to him softly before smoothly gliding back then whacked him one final time, this time with a deathblow severe enough to make his head explode. Right after that, Demise licked some of the blood and brains off the baseball bat as she elegantly glided around the corpse so smoothly that it seemed more like she was floating, not trotting. She also passed up the other mares, who were still writhing on the floor with pure ecstasy, to close in on me.

“Perhaps now you have a deeper understanding of what we are, Lightning,” Demise said as she flipped the baseball bat around and stabbed it to the ground. From there, she leaned on it with both of her forehooves on the upper tip of it, thus propping her forward body up at an approximately thirty-five-degree angle. “We are eternal specters of the Night. We can never grow old . . . and we can never die.” She leaned down towards me as she added emphatically, “But we must feeeeeeeeeeeed!”

At first, I looked up at her eyes mostly lividly, but then I stared forward blankly.

After giving her last information a few seconds to sink in, Demise stood up straight again as she went on to say, “And you must understand that. Do not think I am unfamiliar with the horror you are currently experiencing either. I have lived for centuries, so I have seen it all. Many of us went through the same transition too. It typically is rough in the beginning, but it will get easier. You'll understand, after your first feeding, how utterly addicting and intoxicating this is.” She gave me a sly grin. “And don't think I haven't noticed that you didn't partake of it this time. That is a perfectly normal psychological response at this stage of your development, but you need to know something.”

She waited until I looked back at her before she continued.

“What you need to know is,” she said as she tilted her end of the still bloody and dripping baseball bat at me to indicate to me. Notably, what probably was once the boy's most cherished tool in life. “that the hunger will never stop growing and accumulating. Those with a strong will, like you, I suspect, can resist it for a while. Probably even longer than most could, but there is a problem with that. Sooner or later the need to feed will overwhelm you. Like it or not, your body will literally force you to feed. If, for some reason, you still can't, like you are trapped in a cave or something, then the hunger will gradually erode all that you are until you are nothing left but the hunger. It will never actually kill you, mind you, but it will rob you of all of your wits and sense of self.”

She took a deep breath, held it, then released it slowly before she went on to say, “While it is technically possible for any of us to hold out that long, especially if we're locked up somehow, we strongly recommend against it because you could eventually accumulate permanent damage to yourself. Damage that can be cured by certain methods, but never on your own. Never naturally. What you need to understand is, if you hold out that long, you'll gradually become more feral permanently until there is nothing left but a savage animal. At that point, it'll be impossible for you to enjoy the finer and more complex things in life.

“So do yourself a favor and don't hold out that long. Struggle to resist it for as long as you feel you have to, for that is a perfectly normal part of the process as well, but just be warned that, in the end, the hunger always wins.”

With that, she gave me a smooth bow and then glided out of my sight behind me, thus leaving me feeling blank and lifeless while I contemplated how doomed I was.