Inverno - The Music Catcher

by CrackedInkWell

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Pipp Petals, My Little Pony: A New Generation, Sunny Starscout, Hitch Trailblazer, Slice of Life, Izzy Moonbow, Alternate Universe
Length: 10592

All of Canterlot has been long abandoned. No pony has ever lived there as long as anyone could remember. Nopony, except for one.

Warning: The following story is currently unedited.

Canterlot. Once upon a time it was a golden city where it was the beating heart of Equestria's culture, power, and wealth - now abandoned. After magic was lost and the three pony tribes separated, it is long assumed that Canterlot was simply a mythical place - a legend where it probably didn't exist. Or if there were such a place, then it's more than likely that nopony has lived there for a very, very long time.

Nopony lives there anymore... Except for a very old unicorn. Who long believed that he might be the only pony left in the whole world. He passes the time by recovering and recording whatever music he could find. A Music Catcher of sorts.

His name is Inverno. And this, is his story.

Published 2022-11-03 03:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-12-22 03:16:45 UTC

Prelude

At some point, Inverno didn’t bother to count how long it’s been. Each morning he would wake up at the hole in the roof where the sun came in before rolling out of his makeshift bed. He would give out a yawn that would echo throughout the empty Opera House. He was grateful that after Canterlot was abandoned, they still left behind the set pieces where he could make a home. Ghost-like, he would engage in the same routine that he carried out yesterday and the day before that. After waking up, he would light up a fire in a soot-covered metal bowl where he would warm up and have breakfast out of a can that he would cook in. Usually, soup as they’re easy to find if they haven’t been opened or contaminated. Then after that, he would gather up his things to search the city for a couple of hours.

As far as he was aware, he is the last pony to live in Canterlot. Every time he stepped outside the Opera House into the delipidated city, he felt like a ghost. Roaming through the streets, between the ruined towers of a once golden metropolis. Usually, it’s quiet, say for the sounds of birds and the wind that blows through. Sometimes his mind would fill the empty streets with ponies and creatures back in the old days. Back during a time when everyone thought all of this would last forever.

He sighed. At times the loneliness gets to him. Not that he wasn’t used to it, but he wished that ponies would be here again. He wondered if there really ponies are still left beyond the overgrown walls, that they had reconciled since the… incident. For all he knows, he could be the last pony in the whole world, but deep down, he refused to believe that. He of all ponies knew that ponies have survived many worst conditions and they could adapt to anything. If there were other cities or towns out there, perhaps things won’t be so bad but…

Shaking his head, Inverno stopped for a moment to squint his eyes to make sure where he’s at. Over the years his eyesight had gotten significantly worse. Things have become blurry, ever blurrier to the point he could only see a few inches in front of him clearly. He knew that for his age, he was going blind. But blurry, he reason, was still better than seeing nothing. And squinting, he checked to make sure he was in the right place.

“…. Alright, I know I’ve been into that house…” he muttered, barely seeing the smashed window in a brick home that had purple chipping paint. The house in front of him had a wooden door, red brick, and unbroken windows. After checking to see that the front door was indeed locked, he picked up a nearby heavy rock in his hooves. “Well, let’s see what you have…” And threw it at the window, smashing it.

For him to survive, he had to break into the old houses in hopes to find something in them. After all, it’s been years and years since anyone had dropped everything and left the city, so it was unlikely that anyone was going to complain. But crawling through the window and taking care not to cut himself on the glass, he entered inside the dust-filled house and began searching.

First, he looked for food – especially anything that was canned or preserved in some way. Rummaging through pantries and kitchens for anything that hadn’t gone bad, exploded, or would have decayed a long time ago. He looked for cans that haven’t bulged, and jars that were sealed tightly, and when he did find them, he would place them in a saddle bag.

Next, he looked through the house to see if there were any tools he could use, any sort of clothes that would fit him like coats for the winter or boots to tread through flooded areas. He would also look for useful things like matches, kerosine oil, first aid kits, or maybe tools like a screwdriver or a hammer.

Last, but not least of all, he would search the house from attic to basement to see if he could find any sheet music. Any at all. It didn’t matter what it was, a song, a violin lesson book, a collection for piano – whatever he could find to add to his collection. Because of this, he would need a very important job.

By noon he would return to the Opera House where he would have lunch. And once finished, he would head down to the lower levels. With only a lit kerosine lamp, he navigated down the crumbling stairs, through hallways, and into the basement level where his workshop lies. Ever since Canterlot was abandoned, Inverno had set up an important task. There is a spacious room where he lit whatever candles remaining was a library of every piece of music he could find. Like that from his foalhood, he would copy out whatever music there was. Writing down symphonies, musicals, pieces for solo instruments to songs. Piecing together whatever readable scripts there were and, at times, trying to remember how they went.

And near the evening, he would go to the other side where he would record his findings on an organ of his own design. From whatever batteries, electric equipment, and blank disk records he could find, he would record every piece that wasn’t his collection – even give his voice when need be. Because he knew that while he may not live forever, the records he’ll leave behind will still preserve Equestria’s musical past. Just like how he kept the Crystal Empire's music when he was a child.

It is when he gets to record that, even for a minute, would feel like he’s back in the old days again. Memories would come back to him from his mom and dad, his baby sister, his wife, and the golden days of the Opera House where he would sing or conduct an orchestra. A time when there was an audience in the seats, and when he reached the end, he could still remember the applause that would make him get up to take a bow. Only now when he would reach the end of every piece, all he would hear is silence.

Still, despite being alone, there was one saving grace. Even after magic had disappeared from Equestria, he still retained the one trait he had since he was young. He can see music. As long as he could remember, whenever he plays on something, or sings, or hears someone play, his vision would give way to a vision. Nowadays, it’s his only comfort, his only entertainment. When he plays, he’s treated to places and times when the world was young. Back when ponies fell in love, expressed despair, joy, still contemplation – but hardly alone. Even in the bleakest of pieces, he could find, he was still grateful that at least he got to see characters play out their parts up to the end.

But once all was recorded, he would scuffle back up to have dinner. And after that, sometimes he would read books, and other times when the sky was clear and the night not too cold, he would look out at the stars until he felt tired. He would go to bed on stage to do it all over again the next day.

There were days when he wondered about going outside of the ruined city. If ponykind was still around, surely they would have made settlements somewhere out there. Yet, when he climbed to the top of the highest place of Canterlot to scan outward – all he could see for miles is a dense forest. There wasn’t any sign of anypony out there. He never saw a trail of smoke from a campfire. He never saw anyone use the old roads. No one except the birds overflew the ancient city. At times he would wonder where in Equestria would anyone be. That is if they’re still out there.

There were days that were hard for Inverno. Given his old age (he lost count a long time ago) he often questioned if there was even a point in preserving all this music. Or even keep living in general. There were times when he would spend hours staring down an empty street and simply imagine it was populated with ponies. Other times he would go visit Canterlot Castle in a certain room where he would remember the happiest day of his life – his wedding. He would remember his wife. Her face. Her voice. But would have to stop because remembering the rest would make him cry again.

Such days went on from one to the next. From season to season to season to season. He didn’t expect the remaining of his existence to change. He never expected there would be anypony left alive in the world that would just happen to find Canterlot. He didn’t expect anything would happen as long as he was alive.

That was, until one day.

Author's Note

Okay, I don't expect this story to be some grand epic, but I am interested to see how this would go from such a setup. Especially when Inverno is much, much older in this story. While I hesitate to call this cannon to the other two stories I have about him, I still want to see where this goes.

And hopefully, dear reader, so would you.

Andante

All things considering, it wasn’t too bad of a day. The weather was pleasant enough, he found an unopen tin can of peaches – his favorite – and with one house, he hit the jackpot. A collection of Beethooven that he was sure he hadn’t recorded yet. One of which was a string quartet that he hadn’t heard in years but remembered liking decently enough.

Best of all, he was able to do all this before noon. Perhaps while there was still enough time, he could pop by the library to see if he could find anything different. Or maybe check to see if anything was growing in the garden in the park – a few fresh veggies would be lovely to have for lunch or dinner.

His thoughts paused as he saw his reflection in a broken, dusty window. In it, he noticed how long his mane was getting. While he kept the ponytail, his mane was still a tangled mess. Squinting his red, cat-like eyes, he hummed in thought, “Maybe I should have my mane cut a little. And find a good comb while I’m at it.”

In his reflection, he stared at the wrinkles under his eyes, the sagging face that sat on top of his unusual body. His condition (as his parents called it) influenced his body by the time he reached his teen years. His legs were quite tall, even for adult stallions. His chest was much larger than normal, ponies thought he stored some big lungs. And his ashy white coat only added to how pale he was. Inverno could remember how ponies back then had gawked and stared at him wondering what was wrong with him.

“Then again…” Inverno said to himself looking down at his hooves. After a sniff, he grimaced, “Hopefully I could find some soap. And enough water to heat up so I could have a proper bath.”

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement in the reflection. Turning his head around, he searched up and down the street. He was no stranger to seeing animals on the street now and then but… from what he saw, it seemed a little too big to be one. “Hello?” He called out. As expected, there was no reply. He glanced between the street and the reflection. “I had to imagine that, right?” he asked himself. “Because for a second there it looked…”

He shook his head. Surely couldn’t be.

But before he could shake it off as being a figure of his imagination, there was an unmistakable sound of something falling over. Something heavy. And the sound was coming from across the street from what used to be Doughnut Joe’s. This time he saw a shadow moving about from behind the dusty, cracked windows.

It can’t be…

“Hello?” Inverno called out. “Is someone there?”

Cautiously, he approached the crumbling doors of the doughnut shop. The closer he got; the more noise was heard of something ravaging around. Before entering, he took his saddlebag off his back to hold. It was heavy enough to possibly knock someone over. For all he knew, it could be a wild animal like a wild cat or a cockatrice that had stumbled in.

Pushing the double doors with a free hoof, Inverno peeked inside to see there was something in the old shop. Or rather, someone.

“Hey isn’t this place cool or… wait, who are you?”

Inverno dropped his saddlebag.

“No, I know who you are! You’re a brand-new friend!”

Inverno squinted. Rubbed his eyes. But the unicorn was still there. It was hard to see, but this was pony-shaped, purple, with a springy curly mane, a horn from her forehead, an energetic wave of a hoof, and a voice that was unmistakably famine.

“Hi new friend! Did you get lost too? I didn’t think there was anypony around since everything is so old and falling apart and – hey! Do you think these doughnuts are still good or maybe these hundred or so year-old doughnuts are like fancy kind of doughnuts?”

It was a pony.

“You think these should be eaten though?” The unicorn asked, banging one of the rock-hard doughnuts on the counter. “These might be tough on your teeth, but what if you need to soak these first or-”

Inverno poked her side.

Yep.

She was real.

So, he poked again.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re real?”

“Well of course I am, silly! Though I don’t think your name is Silly, you’re more of a… Scraggly. I’m Izzy. What’s your name?”

Inverno didn’t respond right away, taking a long moment to process what was happening.

“Do you… have a name?” Izzy tilted her head, “Because otherwise, I can always go with Scraggly.”

“I-Inverno.”

“Huh?”

“Inverno. My name is Inverno and… Oh Gods…”

“Hey, are you okay there? You’re tearing up all of a sudd- Hey!”

“You’re real!” Inverno cried, tears running down his face. His hooves constrict Izzy like a snake. “You’re actually real!”

“Mister, you’re crushing me!” Izzy’s limbs flung about. “Getting hard… to breathe!” Letting go, Izzy took a moment to breathe while the stranger tried to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m so happy!” Inverno answered, “I thought… Gods, I thought I was the only one left.”

“What are you talking about? Because you’re starting to sound like a crazy pony.”

“Forgive me,” wiping more tears he said, “it’s just… I can’t believe that you’re here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anypony. For a while, I thought… I was the only one left.”

“In Canterlot?”

“The whole world.” Inverno sniffed, “There hasn’t been anyone that came back to Canterlot that I thought…”

Squinting, he saw her blink, “Wait… how long have you been here?” She asked.

“I’ve no idea. After a while, I didn’t bother to count.” Inverno blinked, “Wait… what was that you said earlier?”

“Huh?”

“I… Well, I’m not sure what you said exactly, but it sounded like you were expecting someone else?”

“Oh? Oh yeah! Me and my friends were looking for this place.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Inverno looked her in the eye, “Friends? As in plural? More than one?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Although they kinda got too far away from me. But hey, if I could find this place, I think they can too.”

“This is incredible… Where did you all come from?”

“Some of us are from Maretime Bay.”

“Where?”

“You know, the town full of Earth Ponies by the ocean.” Inverno blinked. “Wow, you really been living under a rock, have ya? But that’s okay, I think most of us have been living under our own rocks for a while too. I didn’t know there was a Maretime Bay either where I met Sunny and Hitch, or Zephyr Heights where we met Pipp and Zipp. But I come from Bridlewood where we just got our magic back. Well, that’s not quite true because we all just got back our magic and, okay why are you looking at me like that.”

Inverno blinked, “Sorry this… this is a lot to process all at once.” He said, rubbing the sides of his head. “I have so many questions that I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, I have a question for you – no, two of them. First, what’s your favorite color? Mine’s periwinkle.”

“What?”

“Do you have a favorite color?”

“Young lady, I’m not sure that that has anything to do with-”

“And second, do you wanna meet my friends? I was lost, but maybe we could find them since I ran into you.”

“I would love to if it’s alright with you.” She nodded, “But how did you enter the city? I know there are ways but which one?”

“There’s a huge pair of doors down that way that’s overgrown with plants. I can show you where it is.”

Now outside, Inverno followed Izzy through the desolate streets. Every so often, Inverno had to remind himself that this bubbly unicorn next to him was indeed real, despite how much a part of him wanted to deny this fact.

“So, what are you doing out here for?” Izzy asked. “I mean no offense to you, but this place is rather…”

“Gloomy?”

“I was gonna go with apocalyptic, but yeah! Don’t mean to pry or anything it’s just a little weird that you would live in a ghost city.”

“You could say that I stayed for a few reasons.”

“Oh yeah?” Izzy craned her neck around, “Like what?”

“Sentimental for one. I have good memories here. It’s where I call home. That and when everything… fell apart, I honestly didn’t know what was happening out there. Everypony and everycreature fled elsewhere, not knowing where. And I didn’t want to flee. Because I thought eventually, someone would come back.”

“But what exactly do you do?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Like what do in your free time?”

“Oh. I’m a Music Catcher.”

“Music Catcher? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

“That’s because, in a way, I invented the job. Partly to keep me occupied, and partly to make it so that I can preserve what music there was as possible.”

“Do you write it down or…?”

“What I do is I go through these houses,” he pointed with a hoof, “to see if there’s any sheet music. Sometimes they’re in pieces and I had to figure out how they go. From there I record them on records.”

“Records?”

Inverno paused, “Do… do you not know what a Record is?”

“I think it’s something my grandparents had, but I didn’t know anyone was still making them.”

“Well, I’m one of them. I would love to show you how it’s done. It’s been a while since I had an audience.”

“I guess so. Can you sing?”

Inverno smirked, “I can. I used to be a professional in my day.”

“Ooh! Were you famous?”

“I like to think so, but I’m not quite sure. Back then I used to be on the stage. Sometimes I would singing in an Opera. Other times I could conduct an orchestra. And now and then I would play as a soloist before a crowd. I would compose a little, but mostly I performed other works. My, I had a busy life back then.” After a beat, he added, “Oh I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“And what about you? What do you normally do?”

“I make art out of whatever I can get my hooves on.”

“So, you’re an artist?”

Izzy blew strawberries, “I don’t know, artist sounds so… formal. Nah, I use all sorts of stuff to make things like jewelry or decorate my home. Whatever that you pick up from the ground that makes you go ‘Wow! That’s neat to have that as a table or a bookshelf, or stir pasta with!’ I can be anything from glass bottles, a string, a weird-looking rock, just whatever gets my imagination going.”

After pondering this, Inverno remarked, “I can relate to that.”

“How’s that?”

“You use whatever you can find to make art, and I search the city from top to bottom to weave music back together again. Any scrap I came across is important.”

“That makes sense. To me, there’s no such thing as a useless thing to be tossed out and be forgotten.”

Inverno nodded, “I do something similar. Because I don’t think what we had should ever be forgotten.”

Before Izzy could say something else, their ears perked as they heard voices calling out her name. Inverno instantly knew where it was coming from. From the towering, crumbling walls stood the Grand Gate. Twin doors that held back the overgrowth and vegetation of the forest now had an opening – something Inverno hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Izzy called back at them while Inverno stepped over an ancient banner that had fallen years ago – Welcome to Canterlot.

Out from that crack, a few more new ponies stepped out. Two Pegasi, and two Earth Ponies. He saw how they entered through with awe on their faces, the discovery of a long-lost ancient civilization.

Then, they noticed Inverno.

“I’ve made a new friend,” Izzy told them. “This is… sorry, what was your name again.”

Giving a bow, the old unicorn introduced himself, “Hello. My name is Inverno, the... last resident in the city. Welcome to Canterlot.”

Moderato Ad Libitum

Perhaps it might be because he hadn’t encountered another living being in decades, or maybe it might be because they were relatively young; but Inverno found these ponies as… peculiar. And that was the nicest way to put it. Right from Izzy’s introduction, he saw her as being friendly, if a bit scatterbrained, Inverno saw her as overall… harmless.

The other ponies… he wasn’t too sure what to make of them. They weren’t bad by any means, but he didn’t know what to make of them.

There were the two sisters, both pegasi. A taller one, by the name of Zipp, vaguely reminded Inverno of something. The… Wonder Vaults? Or something like that. The other one, Pipp, being shorter was groomed and primed like an expensive doll that carried around a somewhat thin, boxy thing that had a tiny camera on one end and a screen on the other. Although he was told it was a phone, to him it reminded him more like a tinny movie screen.

Hitch was the only male in the group, an earth pony who was protective of his friends. Inverno heard something about him being a sheriff from Izzy, but to him, he resembled more of the old Royal Guard. Loyal but confident to the point he didn’t shake his hoof when offered. Inverno reasoned that perhaps it might be because that he’s a stranger to them. He supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking so. In a strange way how he carried himself, it reminded him vaguely of his dad.

“How long have you lived here!?”

Then there was the excitable one of the group, an orange earth pony who the moment Inverno introduced himself mowed him down with one question after another with barely enough time for him to get a word in.

“How old are you?”

“I don’t-”

“What have you been doing all this time?”

“I was-”

“Did you happen to know Princess Twilight?”

“Well I-”

“Could you tell me what Canterlot was like since you are an eye-witness-”

“YOUNG LADY!” Inverno snapped at her, his voice echoing through the empty city. At that sudden moment, all the younger ponies were taken aback by his sudden outburst. Breathing in immediately realizing what slipped through his mouth, he added, “Apologies, but you plowed through your questions before I could get anything out.”

“Oh…”

“So… first thing’s first,” he pointed around, “Izzy, Zipp, Pipp, Hitch, and… what was your name?”

“It’s Sunny. And sorry, I didn’t expect to find anypony still living here. I mean… how old are you anyway if that’s okay for me to ask.”

Inverno shrugged, “Honestly? I forgot.”

Zipp raised an eyebrow, “How do you forget how old you are?”

“When there’s hardly anyone around for decades and one-day blends into the next, you’ll find how hard it is to keep track of time. But to give you a rough idea, and I’m oversimplifying it… When I was a colt, Twilight Sparkle wasn’t a Princess yet until a couple of years later.”

“Incredible!” Sunny began to pace, “If what you’re saying is true, then that makes you-”

“The oldest living pony in the world.” Hitch pointed out, “If that’s remotely true, that must make you way over a hundred years old.”

“No, much more than that,” Inverno said but waved it off, “but it’s complicated. Now I have a question for all of you. What are you doing here? More importantly… what took you so long?”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Izzy waved her hoof up in the air. “I know this one! It’s because Sunny wanted to prove that this place exists, and what do you know? We found it.”

Inverno blinked, “Exists?”

“Everyone thought this place was a myth,” Sunny explained. “And that’s not quite true. But honestly, I didn’t expect anypony would be here.”

“I see.” Coughing into a hoof, Inverno asked, “Anyway, I suppose while you’re all here, I should welcome you as guests. Can I invite you for lunch? I’d be delighted if I could at least treat you from coming all this way.”

Hitch stepped forward, “Hang on, how do we know you’re not tricking us into something?”

“You’re the first ponies I’ve seen in Gods-know-how-long, and my first instinct is to fool you? What would I gain if I did? Frankly, I’m happy and relieved that there are still ponies out there. Besides, as a host, it would be rude of me to hurt my guests. It’s just bad manners.”

Hitch’s mouth hangs open for a moment but soon closed. After a huff, he told him, “No tricks. I’ll be watching you.”

From there, Inverno leads them through the streets, ooh-ing and ahh-ing along the way past the buildings and landmarks. At one point, he noticed Pipp holding up the flat camera up to what he thought was taking pictures, but then got curious when she started talking into it.

“What is up, Pipsqueaks! I have a special update for you all, coming to you live from the long-lost city of Canterlot. That’s right! It turns out that Sunny’s hunch was correct and the city of myth and legend is 100% real. Just take a look at this everypony.”

Holding her phone up to give a sweeping view of the ruins, Inverno stopped for a moment before approaching her, curious to see what she was doing.

“Obviously this place has seen better days but it’s surprising how much this stuff is still standing. But that’s not all. Finding the city, we got a big surprise. Turns out, this ancient city isn’t quite abandoned-”

“Who are you talking to?” Inverno asked.

“Ah, speaking of which.” Pipp flew up a little, holding up the device to show her and Inverno’s reflection on the screen. “Guys, this is Inverno. He’s possibly the oldest-”

“You’re talking to a mirror?”

Pipp looked over her shoulder. “No… I’m having a live stream with my fans to give them an update.”

Inverno frowned, “Miss, would you please speak Equestrian? I don’t think I understood half of what you said.”

There was a moment of pause between them, “Wait, you’ve never seen this before?”

“You said earlier it was a phone, but it looks like a weird sort of camera to me that… apparently can be a mirror as well. But what are those floaty things there in the corner?”

“Emojis.”

Inverno stared at her blankly.

Pipp flew away from him a little for distance. “Anyway… as you can see, Inverno has been living here since Canterlot was abandoned. Having no knowledge of the outside world. Things are starting to get mysterious, and I’ll be sure to give you all a further update as soon as we find out more about this place and this mystery pony. That’s all for now, gotta go. Pip Pip Hurray!”

After touching something on the screen, Pipp gave a weird look at Inverno as he passed by, resuming to lead them the way.

Zipp trotted up to him, “So… What have you been doing here all this time?”

“Wait, didn’t I… oh that’s right, I have only spoken to your bubbly friend there.” Inverno pointed at Izzy. “Sometimes it’s a little hard to keep track of things. But to answer your question, I’m a Music Catcher.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I go about the city trying to find whatever sheet music is left, and I copy out, restore, and even record the music.”

“What kind of music?”

“Any that I can get my hooves on.” Inverno stopped to reach into his saddle bag and pulled out a small book whose pages are falling off. “For example, I just found this today. Beethooven, one of his… I think it’s a late String Quartet of his.”

“Whose Beethoven?” Inverno looked at her, wide-eyed surprised. “What?”

“You don’t know who Beethoven is?” Zipp shrugged her shoulders. “What about… Moztrot?” Same reaction. “Buch? Paganeighni? Horeseshoepin? Tchaicoltsky?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m not all that smart but I’ve never heard of any of them before.”

“…. I was afraid of this,” Inverno said aloud, shaking his head.

“About what?” Sunny asked.

“When Equestria was collapsing, I feared there would be a dark age. One where the greatest works would either be lost or forgotten. I suppose that makes me the only one alive to know that any of this music is still around. But if you’re all here, and there are more ponies out there… then maybe it’s worth sharing my life’s work.”

“Can we hear some of it?” Izzy asked.

“After lunch,” Inverno said, moving forward, “I can treat you to some of it. I’ll even sing too.”

“That’s the thing I don’t quite get,” Hitch told him, “If you were… say… copying books, that’d be one thing, but why to focus so much on music?”

“In my view, language is always subjected to change. It’s unavoidable with time, cultures, class, and even generations where the spoken and written word could be tweaked, twisted, turned, reinvented, or fall out of fashion. But music is more… eternal. It’s a snapshot of a place and time where a single note is either right or wrong absolutely. Not even time could change that. Even when styles come and go, with good music especially, it will never, ever age.”

“I mean… he’s partly right,” Sunny said to her friends. “It’s very rare that we know what music way back then sounded like. There’re illustrations from books that show us what instruments were played, but outside of that, there’s not an awful lot as far as I know.”

A smirk grew on Inverno’s face, “It would be a pleasure to enlighten you.”

It didn’t take long to show them the opera house. Though in ruins with part of its façade collapsed, there was a sublime sense of majesty as though it was an ancient palace. White marble and columns held up its walls with the collapsed double doors at the front. He led them through the peeling frescos and crumbling statues, between the staircase of the foyer, and into the grand theater itself with its torn rows of seats, collapsed dome above, shattered chandelier in the middle, and there at the very front – a stage that still stood.

“My apologies for the mess,” Inverno said, “if I knew that you were coming, I would have cleaned up a little.”

Hitch eyed what was on stage and the hole in the roof. On stage was a bed made up of pillows, rags, and books; a firepit made from bricks with a frying pan and pot on the side; some books strewn about the stage; clothes and costumes that hung on a rack; and piles of tin cans, bottles, and jars. “So do you move somewhere else during the winter?”

“To the basement when the weather gets too cold.” Inverno climbed up on stage, looking through the cans. “Give me a minute or so to figure out what to serve you. In the meantime, make yourselves at home.”

While Inverno thought over what to serve to his guests, they started to wonder. Zipp flipped through the pile of books that have been yellowed with age, Pipp took pictures of the crumbling opera house, Izzy, over by the fallen chandelier to pry it for any loose pieces, Hitch examined the make-shift bed, and Sunny went in front of the stage to look at the rows of empty seats. Then, finding some cans of soup, Inverno started to open them when Sunny asked, “So… why do you live here of all places?”

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s just that there are plenty of houses you could have gone to. But why live in an opera house?”

“You could say,” Inverno opened the first can and dumped its contents in the biggest pot he had, “that I’m sentimental. This place had so many good memories that anywhere else doesn’t feel like home.”

“What kind of memories?”

“Well, once upon a time when I grew up and moved to Canterlot, I tried to make a name for myself given my talents in music. Working my way up from playing in restaurants, to writing some pieces to be published. Truthfully it took a long while to figure out what I wanted to do, so I came here to be trained as an Opera singer. Given my unique voice, it did help build a reputation. Before everything collapsed, I was happily working with the Opera company at the time while being able to conduct as a side job. A good chunk of my life was spent here. Refining masterpieces for a paying public.”

“But how come you stayed? If everypony else has gone away, why didn’t you go with them?”

“… It’s… a personal matter for me,” Inverno said, opening the next can. “All I can say is when everyone left, I wasn’t alone for a while.”

“Oh…” Sunny fell into an awkward silence, her ears folded back against her head.

“Still, how is the outside world doing? Are there more ponies out there or is it just you five?”

“There’s still plenty of us,” Hitch said. “Recently there’s been a lot of changes going on.”

“For example?” Inverno asked, opening another can.

“Well, the three tribes are starting to come together for the first time.”

“And magic’s back,” Izzy called out, “don’t forget about that.”

Inverno blinked. “That’s right, one of you mentioned that but… how do you know?”

“It’s a long story,” Sunny told him. “To put it in a nutshell, this whole time, all the magic from Unicorn, Pegasi, and Earth Ponies was storied in three crystals. And, in short, we found them. There was a truce among all three tribes and the magic returned to Equestria. There’s a lot more to it, of course, but…” She saw the look on Inverno’s face and asked, “Did… did you not know about it? It’s been back for a few months now.”

“It’s strange unless I’ve fallen asleep, I don’t think I noticed… wait.” Inverno got up, “Would one of you stir the soup? I’ll be right back; I need to find something first.”

Rushing off stage and disappearing into the wings, Sunny took up to stirring the pot while Inverno rummaged through something. There was the sound of stuff being tossed aside with the ancient stallion muttering, “Where is it? Where is- there you are!” He pushed out onto the stage a dusty gramophone, but as soon as he did, he disappeared again. For several minutes the young ponies wondered what the old geezer was doing until he came rushing back with a few records in hoof.

“What’s all that?” Izzy asked, walking towards the stage.

“Recordings of instrumentals I’ve done. But give me a moment…” Going through the short collection in hoof, Inverno scanned through the records for something short but virtuosic. At the last record, he smiled and set the others aside. “When I was young, I was diagnosed with a form of Synesthesia. In plain Equestrian, whenever I hear or play music, I could visualize it. Sometimes it would be abstract colors moving about, and other times I would see a scene play out as richly and clearly as I see you now… Well, back when my sight was good. As got older, I learned a spell about how to project what I saw so that everyone can see it. When magic disappeared, so did my ability. But…” He dusted off the gramophone and turned the crank, “If you’re right, and if we’re lucky… very, very, very, very, very lucky… I think I can still do this.”

“What are you doing?” Hitch asked.

“I’m going to play something and sing to this.” Feeling the crank had tightened, he placed the record on the turntable. “Oh! If this works, then allow me to give you a little context for what you’re about to see. This was a famous aria from Moztrot’s The Magic Flute. In it, the hero is going through all these trials, and his lover… oh what was the name… Pamina! That was it! Pamina is anxious about his survival. It is then, that her mother, the Queen of the Night finds her. Pamina asks how come she wasn’t rescued by the hero, and she replies that she is undergoing the trials of her father, Sarastro. Her mother is furious at this because Sarastro had taken a birthright that she argued was hers. She tells her that if she goes with the hero now, she will disown her.”

“Gotta say,” Izzy commented, “This sounds overly dramatic and complicated.”

“Well, it is opera,” Inverno laughed, “Anyway, the Queen of the Night offers her daughter a crystal dagger and commands to, in her words, ‘Kill the stallion you call father.’ Of course, Pamina couldn’t do it. She cannot do it. It sends her mother into a rage. What she sings, I think translates as… The wrath of Tartarus is raging in my heart. Death and fury are flaming in my soul! You will give Sarastro the pain of death. Or it shall be, my love for you is dead! Destroyed forever, denied forever, cursed forever, everything that binds me to you. Our ties, our trust, our love, these bonds will be cut. Everything that binds us, denied, unless, Sarastro dies by your own hoof! Hear, hear, here, Gods of revenge! This, your mother’s curse!”

“Sheesh,” Pipp commented, “Talk about toxic parenting.”

“True. But at the time when I got into singing, ponies told me that stallions in general could not sing it because the notes were way too high. Even for professional singers, it’s one of the most challenging arias you could sing. But when I sang it-”

“Wait a minute,” Hitch interrupted, “Are you saying that you sang something that was meant for-”

“The Queen of the Night,” Inverno interrupted back, “Yes, yes, I know, but trust me, there is a good reason for it."

Pressing a button to activate the turntable and carefully placing the needle down. Inverno went up towards the front-center stage. He listened to the soft cracks and pops from the record, waiting for it to begin. Closing his eyes, he heard the trembling violins and took in a deep breath. Even though he hadn’t sung this aria for a long time, every word and note came rushing back at once when he opened his mouth.

A powerful voice escaped his lips that were high in pitch. A voice that was neither a mare’s nor a young colt, but something close to angelic. The voice boomed like a cannon and yet, sweet to the ear like a singing lark. Every note was clear. Every note rang like a bell. His voice had a virtuosity as he goes from one note to the next with the speed and grace of a violin. Though the tone of voice was angry – the kind which it would take one step back from – it commanded power throughout the empty theater.

Behind him, the five friends couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Within moments of Inverno singing, Pipp pulled out her phone and began recording. Zipp leaned over to her and whispered, ‘That is not the voice I expected from an old guy.” Pipp shushed her.

Getting to the first climax of the aria, Inverno felt something… familiar from his horn. Reaching those high notes, he felt a tangly sensation like sparks. With every passing bar, his heart was filling up with something he thought he would never feel again – hope. Before he knew it, he imagined himself being on stage in that role once more. And seeing it all again in his mind’s eye – he opened them.

With the swooping and sweeping violins, Inverno felt his magic spring back to life as the illusion took hold. He saw the Opera House, full and restored with its audience. And turning around, he saw the stage had become a field of stars. All the young ponies saw it too and were taken aback at the sudden change. As Inverno continued to sing, Inverno raised a hoof to see that he was in that starry dress once more – complete with that heavy crown on his head. However, one part of the illusion he saw from the corner of his eye nearly made him lose his concentration. To the left of him was… her… the one who played Pamina in the Opera all those years ago.

As much as he tried to ignore her, he spotted Izzy in the audience, walking up the aisle towards the front of the stage, looking at the horrified, crying mare beside Inverno. Though he sang his heart out with the utmost focus – he could see that she (and to an extent, her friends) – were looking at the actress next to him with a mixture of awe and fascination. He knew why just as much as the audience in his illusion were. Because the one who landed in the role of Pamina was a Changeling.

At the height of his singing where the character was full of rage, Inverno stomped on the stage as hard as he could along with the thunderous strings. It was only then that he finally turned to look at Pamina. For a moment, his heart nearly stopped when he saw her eyes. Those sunset eyes over her yellow face. It took every ounce of self-control not to burst into tears as he took in another breath to finish out the aria. His rising, climatic voice that echoed in the theater finished out the last few bars. Inverno turned to the audience as the orchestra rushed to the final few notes for him to take a bow. And as the record had finished, so did the illusion.

When Inverno opened his eyes, he saw that the audience was gone, the theater rotting, and all that remained were the five stunned ponies that had their mouths hung open.

“Sorry,” Inverno coughed into his hoof, “force of habit.” Turning his attention to the now simmering pot, he asked them, “So… ready to have some lunch?”

Allegro

“That was your real voice?” Hitch asked.

Inverno rolled his eyes, “For the hundredth time, yes it was.”

“But how did you sing that high?” Pipp was typing away on her phone. “I’ve listened to plenty of high pitch singers before, but that was on a whole new level. It was… close to angelic as you can get.”

“And you did it so flawlessly,” Izzy said between spoonfuls of soup. “You made it sound so easy to do.”

“Didn’t I say I used to be an Opera singer? I thought I covered that before.”

“We’re just really surprised,” Sunny told him. “That and the illusion thing you cast – just… wow! It was like for a minute we’ve stepped back in time.”

Inverno set his bowl aside, “I noticed that too. Perhaps… it might have been nostalgia, or the music was tapping into a memory of mine. But it was how I remembered it. Being on stage singing this aria in a role that traditionally was meant for a mare.”

“So, who was the other actress?” Zipp asked.

“Sorry?”

“That colorful, bug-like… thing that was on stage with you. Who or what was that?”

Inverno blinked, “Have none of you ever seen a Changeling before?”

“That was a Changeling!” Sunny stood up. “I thought they were just a fairytale.”

“Oh no, they’re real… At least… I don’t know if they’re still around or not.” Frowning, Inverno shook his head, “When Equestria was collapsing, they disappeared into the shadows. I don’t know if they retreated to their kingdom or had gone elsewhere. Where had they gone to? I don’t know. But I do know of one thing – the cause.”

“And what’s that?” Izzy tilted her head.

Looking up at the collapsed roof of the Opera House, Inverno told them, “Once upon a time, when Princess Twilight was still around, Canterlot had a golden age. Not only was it wealthy, but there were creatures from far-off lands that flocked here. Some griffons opened shops, dragons who were firefighters, hippogriffs that taught at universities, Yaks that carted goods to trade, Zebras that sold potions, and Changelings that performed in the arts. Ponies at first welcomed them as they brought wealth and a melting pot of cultures and ideas that were experimented with and combined to create new and wonderful things.

“However, underneath the surface of this tolerance, there was a growing seed of doubt – a seed of fear – from ponies that questioned if having them was a good thing at all. Fear that led to distrust. Distrust led to ignorance. And ignorance led to bigotry. Not only had ponies distrust other ponies, but the first ones they went after were creatures whose only crime was that they were not them. They made things intolerable, to where they made new rules of where ponies and creatures could go. Who they could interact with. Where they could get a job at. Even who to marry. Of course, the creatures who could move out did. They took with them the ideas and innovations that made the kingdom great. And from there… things collapsed.”

“So that Changeling in your illusion,” Sunny said, “was that before it happened?”

“Oh, long before it,” Inverno nodded.

“Did you know that Changeling personally?” Zipp wondered aloud.

“I did.”

“Really? Then how come you never once looked at… who-ever-it-was?”

Inverno suddenly got up, “Ah look! I see that everyone’s done with lunch, I can go ahead and show you what I’ve been working on.”

“Hey, wait, why are you changing the conversa-”

“Follow me everypony and watch your step!” Inverno made a hasty retreat backstage.

Zipp, with a raised eyebrow, turned to her friends, “That was weird, right?”

“It’s like he’s hiding something,” Hitch rubbed his chin.

“Ooh! A mysterious past,” Izzy excitedly clopped her hooves together. “I love one of those.”

Pipp, who has been on her phone, gave a low whistle. “Hey guys, I think this old guy is trending.”

“What are you talking about?” Izzy asked her.

“Remember when he started singing and that he treated us to that light show? I posted the video immediately right after, and that vid is going through the roof. It’s not even half an hour old and already there are three-thousands views.”

“Excuse me,” they heard Inverno call out, “Are you coming?”

If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, none of them would have believed it otherwise.

Beneath the Opera House in its lowest basement was an enormous, vaulted room where nearly half had shelves of both sheet music and records next to it. Rows of hoof-written books and records were placed side by side. There were hundreds, perhaps over a thousand or so, all organized by the last name of the composer. It was clear to all that the stallion had spent decades recording all this music. But as impressive as that was, nothing could compare to what was taking up the other half of the room.

The closest thing they could call it when they first saw it was an organ, but that wasn’t quite it. There were pipes like an organ. But the contraption was a massive collection of various instruments and found parts that made up this thing. Here there were string instruments that had tinny pads on the neck with wheels near the bridge. There were twisted tubes and piping with various brass and wind instruments that were hooked up to bellows at one end. There were harps, drums, bells, and – strangest of all – wooden parts that were carved into mouths in various shapes and expressions. The very heart of all this was a complicated organ keyboard with rows of keys, buttons, and switches. There is also one noticeable thing too – an ancient microphone. The wires lead behind it to a machine that was powered by batteries made from glass jars, pieces of copper and zinc floating in acid.

“You built all of this?” Izzy said what was on everyone’s mind.

“Do you like it?” Inverno smiled with pride as he was displaying his creation for the first time. “I call it Organum Universale! A universal organ that encompasses every instrument in the orchestra of my time and more. Including a mechanical choir of my design.”

“But… how?” Sunny asked, looking up towards the gongs and symbols that hang from the ceiling. “And more importantly, why?”

“Mainly as a way of preserving music. It took me decades and is still an ongoing project to retune and refine this instrument to get the consistency of the sound as close to how it would have sounded as possible. Besides… when you’re convinced, you’re the only pony left in the world, I find you need to occupy your time somehow.”

Inverno went up to the complex keyboard, resting a hoof on a panel of various buttons. “Fortunately for me, the Canterlot library and university had plenty of information on how various things worked. Such as the mechanics of pressurized air, or how certain clockworks do certain things, or even how the physiology of singing worked so I could reverse engineer it. Maybe not singing words per-se, the only sounds they make are Ooh and Ahh…” He turned back to them, “That one took the longest to get close to functional. Of course, there were plenty of things I had to figure out such as how to make electricity from found objects, and how to make records. I’ve spent years educating myself before I could make my first recording.”

“Not gonna lie,” Zipp said, approaching the rows of keyboards that resembled the gigantic grin of a beast. “I can’t believe that you did all of this by yourself. You must be some mad genius or something to put all this together.”

“No, that’s from a combination of sheer boredom and willpower.”

“So how does all of this work?” Sunny asked.

“The instrument?”

“Well that too, but why go through all the trouble to build all this and record from it? If you already copy down sheet music, then isn’t this just… overdoing it?”

“All this for one greater purpose – insurance.”

Izzy tilted her head. “For what?”

“Simply put,” Inverno sat on his hunches, “if I was truly the last pony in the world, and if somehow another civilization were to pop out and discover Canterlot, I reasoned that if I just left them a library of sheet music, there might be a good chance they wouldn’t have any idea what it means. I figured that when I pass on, there wouldn’t be anyone left who knew how to read and – more importantly, play this music. Which is why I’m going the extra mile to record it too. That way, even if future archeologists or scholars or what-have-you do discover this, they would know what it sounded like.”

“That… weirdly makes a lot of sense.” Pipp eyed one of the shelves nearby and went up to them. Picking one of the books at random, she flipped it open. “Yeah… I can tell right away this is old. So old that I don’t know what it should sound like.”

“Which one is that?” Inverno asked and Pipp flipped it around, holding it up to him. The old stallion had to walk up to it, squinting to see what it was. He got close to it before he smiled, “Oh! Clair de Lune. A beautiful piece you have there.”

Pipp looked between him and the book, “You know, you’ve been squinting a lot. Are you nearsighted or something?”

“If you mean if I’ve been going blind, then yes.” Inverno reached out to take the book into his hoof. But as soon as it was in his grasp, he suddenly remembered that he had magic and, having to light his horn, levitate the sheet music over towards the colossal instrument.

“Do you need glasses or something?” Hitch asked.

Inverno huffed, “Obviously, but who am I going to get them if there’s no one to make them?” Trotting over to the rows of keyboards he added, “Besides, I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I played anything to live in front of an audience.”

“You know…” Sunny walked up to him, “You don’t have to stay here. We can take you over to Maretime Bay so you can be around ponies again. Not only that, but our museum would benefit greatly from your record keeping and your first-hoof knowledge of what Equestria was like for future generations. We can get you settled with a roof over your head, fresh food, and the best medical care.”

“You mean it?” Inverno blinked.

“If it helps,” Zipp told him, “My sister and I are princesses. We can help pitch in with money and Pipp here is good at spreading her influence through the internet.”

“The what now?”

“Basically,” Pipp said, checking her phone, “I can get the word out about who you are and what you do. That, and I think your singing alone makes you unique enough to get noticed.”

This gave Inverno pause, sitting on the bench facing them, he knew what all this meant. All these decades alone will come to an end if he just goes with them. He would be with ponies again. He would find out just how much things have changed since Canterlot was abandoned. He would have a proper bed again. Food that wasn’t served out of a can. And most of all, his efforts to preserve the rich musical past would not have been in vain.

“How far away is Maretime Bay?” He asked.

“Couple hours hike,” Izzy answered, pointing, “About that way, I think. It takes forever to get there from here but it’s not too bad.”

“I figured if we leave now,” Hitch thought aloud, “we should be back by sunset.”

“Might be longer when you have an old geezer following you four.” Inverno chuckled. “I would like to go if you’d let me.”

“You sure?” Sunny asked.

“I would have to pack up, of course. But if you get ponies to come here and bring all this over to your town, I will have nothing to worry about. However, before I could do anything, could you all at least humor me for a minute if I played something? It’s been so long since I’ve got the chance to really perform for anyone.”

“And do you mind if I record you?” Pipp asked, taking out her phone, “Just in case anything else happens.”

“By record, you mean to use that camera feature of yours?” She nodded, and Inverno opened the pages of the manuscript on the organ. Then turning to face her, Pipp held up her phone, “Okay recording in three, two, one…” She pressed the button and nodded at him.

“Hello there. My name is Inverno, also known as Inverno Adagio, and I will be playing for you Clair de Lune by Debussy on an instrument of my own design.”

Turning around, Inverno climbed up on the stool to flip on the machine. A soft hum was heard from a generator while he pressed a few switches here and there before his hooves drift to the lowest keyboard of the organ. Squinting his eyes, he took a moment to study the first few bars of the piece. Taking in a deep breath, he played out the first chord.

From the organ, an ethereal piano was heard, singing out a slow, well-toned melody. Like a song from a mother’s lullaby from long ago. A simple, elegant, beautiful song ring out from underneath the arches. Flipping another switch, Inverno added more texture to the piece of peaceful winds and the softest of strings to add on top of the piano.

As he continued to play, Inverno felt his magic being collected in his horn – another illusion spell to project his fantasy. Before he knew it, he saw a canopy of stars overhead from a clear, moonlit sky. A summer warm night when Canterlot’s residents were heading off to bed. Behind him were the orange glow of streetlamps and in front of him was the blue-tinted landscape of Equestria with all its rolling hills and smooth valleys. It was, in every sense of the word, familiar.

On his right, he found that he was sitting on a bench with… her. Looking up at the full moon was a Changeling that had bright eyes of an orange-yellow, a chitin of light blue, and spring green wings. Yes… this must be a memory of his. She seems so young in this – no more than her twenties that was nearly as tall as he was back then. As Inverno played, he glances down to see a ghostly outline of his hoof over hers.

“You know what I like about Canterlot at night?” she asked. “When it’s just like this with the moon and stars out – it’s like the city turns into a painting. Everything here is complementary with warm glowing lights from window sand streetlamps with the blue moonlight. It’s that time when everyone is finally given a break to just stop and breathe for a minute. There are not a lot of ponies out so it’s almost quiet, but just enough noise around to make it not creepy.”

He can hear her scoot closer.

“You sound like a novelist for a moment.” He heard himself say.

“It just felt right. Besides, this city is gorgeous at night. Everything is… Even you.”

“That’s the thing I don’t quite understand.”

“What?”

“I mean… you could probably ask anyone out on a date. Anyone at all. But I’m still curious though. Why is it that you, Arista, of all Changelings, would want to go out with me?”

“Huh, and here I thought it would be obvious. Let’s see, we know each other at the Opera. We both love music. And we both stick out like a sore hoof.”

“Gee, thanks,” Inverno cringed at the sarcasm from his past self.

“Well let’s be honest, I’m the only Changeling in the cast and you kinda look like Nosferatu but with the voice of an Angel. Still, you’re not just nice to me, but gave me the benefit of the doubt when I auditioned. And I find the more I get to know about you, the more interesting you become.”

“I’m not interesting.”

“Says the guy who one time brought a bunch of dead composers back to life so you have friends, and your step-dad went on this big adventure around Equestria.” Arista laughed.

“Is that all?”

“That, and you kinda resemble a vampire with the red eyes and the pale coat.”

“Be careful, or I might suck your blood!”

“Joke’s on you! I don’t have any!”

There was laughter between them before the two fell into silence. Taking a moment to glance up at the moon overhead, Inverno saw her smile… Gods, had he missed that smile.

“What do you hope to get out of this?” his past self-asked.

“What? Dating you?”

“I mean the opera. It’s hard enough just to get in.”

“And here I thought I made it obvious,” Arista shrugged, “I wanted to sing. I knew I had a good voice, and I wanted to be on stage where everyone can hear it. The opera is challenging, but hey, I like a good challenge.”

“You may be good, but… if it’s alright, I could give you a few pointers to really make it stand out.”

“What? Do you want to give me music lessons?”

“J-Just…” he could practically hear him thumbling. “I want to help you shine on your own.”

Arista smirked, “You know if you want to ask me out on a second date.” She kissed him on the cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

For a long moment, neither said anything. But Inverno remembered the moment well. The warmth on his face, a hoof to touch the spot where she kissed him, and the sense of joy filling him.

“I mean…” his past self-coughed into a hoof. “If it’s alright with you.”

He watched her get up from the bench, “You doing anything Thursday?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s aim it there,” Nodding, Arista smiled before telling him, “See you around, Inverno.”

“T-Thanks… have a good night.”

“You too.”

Waving, Inverno watched her go until she was out of sight. He remembered this night well, how big of a grin on his face while he looked up from the bench. Doing nothing for a minute or so just staring up at the sky, at the great white moon overhead. What a beautiful ending to a beautiful evening. He remembered wishing that he could take this moment and preserve it in a jar so he could look back on its years later. Thankfully, even in this piece, he never forgot it. This music only brought it all back, finishing out the last few bars and looking up at the moon overhead.

Just as when the last notes had faded away, so did the illusion and his vision had blurred again. Turning around to the younger ponies, he squinted to see that they were awed. Izzy was on the verge of tears. Pipp, still filming, had a hoof over her mouth.

Getting up from the stool, Inverno bowed.