Chapters The elevators were broken.
No halo enveloped the button I pressed. Both screens, one above each door, displayed only a red ’88,’ next to a vertical double arrow. But even if our apartment had an eighty-eighth floor, the time it would’ve taken for it to crawl to our fifth, then to ground level, adding up all the pitstops along the way, would’ve lapped a trip to the stairs.
Still annoying, and worst of all in character for the building owner. He had a passion for pulling surprise, legally-required checks. Or maybe I missed the memo? Stress has blurred my attention these past few days.
Though I’m not sure why; I’m not the filly starting second grade. But I remembered from my days that foals can be cruel; teachers, strict; and that was in a relatively well-off neighborhood, not the enclave of Tartarus that was—Manhattan.
Okay. Maybe I rubbed off a few of my rational expectations onto my daughter, through preparations my dad told me were: ‘a bit excessive,’ but better to be safe than sorry, right?
It only entailed a note of my number in her bag… and stitched on the back of her bow… and committed to her memory… and, yeah, hers could’ve been photographic; she knew everyone’s lines at the school play, and took the job of my (and dad’s back then) shopping lists. Still, I bothered to craft a mnemonics and a flashcard; two actually: she had to know her granddad’s number too!
In between those sessions, we performed reconnaissance over various routes to and from school. Now, I made an unprompted promise to pick her up every day and I really do try, but a few moments of weakness might’ve occurred once or twelve times last year when I showed up a bit late—never more than five hours—but it’s not entirely my fault! Cheap grownup drink tempted me, and I bore the weight of Equestria’s due emancipation single-hoofedly. A summary of my every hour was probably included in Celestia’s daily brief today.
For my last preparation related to safety, I encased a less precise but more stable version of a teleportation spell inside a couple of hard candies. Looking back, a counter against the side effect of fluorescence would’ve made sense. But in my defense, when I told her to keep those emergency spells a secret between us, how could I have predicted she’d interpret that as: offer them to your nosy classmates without any explanation?! I should’ve made her mop up the fresh foal sick off our floor. But I didn’t. Because I’m so nice!
But maybe all those measures were in fact ‘a bit excessive,’ because today, Wednesday, I picked her up, and she reported nothing but positivity! A few—many—all—boring classes, but no quarrels with classmates! And she’d never lie to me; I’d be able to tell. They don’t brand Starlight Glimmer as a radical because she was a maniac. I spread dangerous truths! I’m the only pony that seems to be aware of the constant barrage of falsehoods Canterlot perpetuates about those exceptionalist, meritocratic, divisive ‘talent’ tattoos that… No.
I told myself I’d take a break from enlightening minds for the sake of my dear Cozy’s safety. She needed a mother, and the liberation of the classes could always wait. I had a daughter to walk outside; open spaces and sunlight are crucial for healthy pegasus development.
“Guess we’ll have to take the stairs,” I said.
Cozy looked at me, concerned. She hovered over to my saddle bag, next to a quarter sheet that covered my necessarily mark-riddled flanks—you can’t expect to reason with the powers of the world without a bit of power yourself—and she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to—”
“I’m fine, dear. Really!”
“But we’re on the fifth floor… and you don’t have any wings… That’s a long walk.”
Her tragic tone made me giggle. “How old do you think I am? I have four legs plus a horn, and besides, it’s a good excuse for me to practice my self-levitation! Or is Mommy too uncool to be let into your cloud house?” My eyes hid behind my foreleg’s knee, and I started to fake cry. I’m terrible; I know.
My daughter cozied up to my neck via hug and aligned our heads horizontally. In a private message to my ear, she whispered, “Oh, no, no, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I was only trying to look out for you because… what if you tripped over because you were so tired or it’s dark and you broke something important and… I’d miss you a lot, y’know, and I don’t know how I’d—”
“Woah! Okay. I was only acting, playing, kidding—Mommy’s a jerk. I’m Sorry. Now come on, let’s go.” I laid a telekinetic imprint behind my daughter’s mane, and we headed towards the stairs’ door.
It wasn’t that I was ungrateful for Cozy’s infinite mercy, but I do wonder if I’ve raised her to be a bit too polite. She broke out of my magic’s embrace and flew to open the door for her evil mother, without a symptom of malice staining her smile. I wouldn’t want her to be this forgiving to supervillains like those fat-cat tyrants up in Canterlot.
Once past the door, I started into a jagged spiraling abyss: the center of the stairwell. I said I was going to practice my self-levitation, didn’t I?
As a pegasus pony, Cozy had a powerful vestibular system, short reaction times, and various reflexes related to flight: automatic parachuting and unconscious non-permeability to clouds if there’s ever a lack of oxygen—so they don’t fall asleep too high—to name a two. I had none. If anything, my reflexes worked against me: I’d teleport, form a protective bubble, or toss myself to the ground, to safety, whenever I tried to self-levitate in the past.
The temptation to cast an impulse spell reminded me of last month when, on my birthday, Cozy surprised me with an omelet dinner. She had baked muffins—sorry, cupcakes—with me and our neighbor before but never cooked a proper meal, so I admittedly expected love to carry the taste. I underestimated her by a lot.
She had cooked the egg mix to the perfect viscosity and for the vegetables to melt in the critic’s mouth, releasing flavored juices when chewed. A mélange of every taste I loved, complimenting each other otherworldly well. Perfection—until a layer of sweat formed under my leg pits, brow; and my saliva turned thick.
Apparently, Cozy had explored our pantry and found a jar of hot flakes Mommy had forgotten she had. She ignored the bright triangular label and liberally laced my meal because the chef on TV told her to. I staggered over to our fridge. “Honey, have you seen the…” Turns out, she frothed the last of our milk into a very warm cocoa.
The temptation to self-cast a knockout spell nearly conquered my senses, but will prevailed. If I had fallen, I’m not exactly sure I could convince my daughter otherwise that Mommy’s deep nap wasn’t either food poisoning or a suicide attempt.
An aura-encompassed object moved in relation to its caster; to walk whilst an object stayed in place required conscious effort. A simple feat when the movements are simple, but when a mage tries to lift themselves off the ground, gravity becomes an issue.
If I wanted to hover in place, I couldn’t ‘hold’ my body still; I had to push my body upwards, countering gravity based on my weight, using a specific style of levitation that wouldn’t create a closed system where I’d fall.
It felt as if my hooves were balancing on a sliver of ice each as I attempted to hover over the steps.
I pitched my horn up slightly, and I nearly smashed my skull against the ceiling; I would’ve, had Cozy not clung onto my back and pushed my body back down. She refused to let go; I wouldn’t force her, not with such worry on her face. Donning a pink personal parachute, coach, and body heater three-in-one, whose cheek rested sideways against my crest, I climbed over the railings, peeked down the void, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and leaped.
I turned the knob of my levitation’s strength and descended as gently as a feather. Well, until the very last second, where a rush of adrenaline made my legs sprawl, forcing me to land on my stomach, but I didn’t get stuck up a tree this time, and I didn’t die!
My daughter helped me back up and guided me to the door as if I were ninety-five, then rode on my back after I told her I was fine—cheeky thing! We walked to the door, and as I colored the exit’s handle blue, a small hoof pushed my right cheek leftwards.
“Look, Mom!” Cozy pointed to a note on the community board. “Says they’ll be drilling until Saturday. It’ll probably be real loud.”
I stretched my neck to look back and smirked. “Well, at least you’ll be at school for most of it.”
As I opened the door, our manes caught an early autumn breeze; Cozy’s more than mine because I’m my own barber and kept my fringe on an equal plane. The zephyr diluted to a negligible strength as the door opened by itself fully.
Manehattan presented me with a morbid excuse to self-levitate. I took it and managed to hover over, with only a bit of turbulence, a homeless mare: sky-blue with droopy eyes, whiskers, and a disheveled gray mane. She had rolled up our building’s brown (once red) rug to use as a pillow.
I would’ve preferred if Cozy hadn’t celebrated my victory quite so rambunctiously, because I empathize with how those midair twirls and shakes must’ve made that loveless, broke, useless mare feel. I too am homeless— philosophically. My principles have yet to congregate in the egregore of the populace. If my ideology fails, I have nopony to fall back on—besides Dad—but I’d rather wander a desert pondering what doth life than subject myself to his rambles on local politics, and the words he uses to describe me: ‘hon-bun,’ ‘chipmunk cheeks,’ or the dreaded, ‘pumpky-wumpkins.’
On the way to the park, I slipped in a bit of practice again. I’d hover for a few seconds as if I were wearing Heelys and Cozy would count how many seconds I held and would cheer. My problem was that I used too much power, so yeah, Cozy’s weight could be considered cheating, but she’s a pegasus filly! I’ve used her as a kickboard at the beach; she’s so light, she floats on water!
“What you have to remember, Mom, is that if you fall, your body will automatically catch itself, so you should only worry enough to trigger your reflexes!” Cozy explained. “Or maybe that only applies to pegasi…”
“Thanks dear,” I said, “but I’m not exactly sure if your type of flight can be compared to my self-levitation. Yours is slightly more… naturally intended.”
My daughter’s first flight happened back when we both lived at my parent’s, after her she took her first steps but before she had a full row of teeth—and strangely, also before her first words.
Dad would go on and on, “Are you sure she’s your daughter, wumpkins?” He’d laugh. “You never used to sit still during nom-noms, and she has more respect for her elders than the whole Development Committee. I haven’t even heard her cry yet!” But then he’d ask, “So how many more months before she’ll be buzzing around the place?”
“Phff, only about…” I strummed my skull-shaped earring with my stomper boot and scratched the side of my dark dress of synthetic leather—yes, I had a phase, only for a few short years before I ascertained that a dictatorship of the unmarked stood as the only path towards freedom. “It varies so wildly—I can’t give you a number…”
The doorbell rang and I rushed out to meet the mailmare before she dropped our package and left. She had a dark-blue coat, a naturally white mane, and a stain of the night sky orbited by two curled feathers.
“Night Glider! Say, odd question, but…” I whispered, “What age is pegasus filly supposed to start flying at?”
She looked at me blankly, dropped our parcel, and shouted, “You have a filly?!”
We both peek inside at Dad teaching her how to vandalize a poster of Stellar Flare. “Perhaps,” I said.
Night Glider sat on our package and recalled, “Well, I didn’t have my first flight until I was nine months.” She looked away satisfied as if to say, no biggie, so I hoped that number was a humble brag.
“Nine months?” I asked. “Mind telling me what methods your parents used?”
“Oh, they tossed me off a cloud. No big deal but I landed without a scratch.” She crossed both sets of legs and drew a satisfied smile, a bit too casual about the mentioned method. “Of course only griffons do that nowadays because apparently it’s too ‘dangerous,’ but listen—you’ve probably never lived on a cloud. Without proper role models, or the risk of a gale coming out of nowhere, pushing you off the city, turning you into a gruesome porridge on the ground for the scavengers below, or bullying, your filly has no motivation to fly. You gotta engage those instincts, or else it’s use it or lose it!”
I nodded and thanked her—sufficiently scared—and tried to close the door but she held out her leg. She offered that we all go watch an obscure group of fast fliers perform, one that I’d never heard of. From her reaction to my blank expression, you’d’ve thought they were more well-known than Celestia. I tuned out the meaning of her words and focused on the echoes of shattered dreams brought out by her tearful defense—the result of her cutie curse no doubt. Clearly, she had a few insecurities… I nodded and jotted down a note in the other room remotely through magic, before I faked that Cozy cried and closed the door. “My daugher needs me!”
The natural method didn’t work; perhaps because I didn’t want to risk sloshing my foal’s brain against her skull by dropping her more than a hoof above a pillow, even if her anatomy was designed for it. But nature didn’t care if you broke a hollow bone! Wait, does she have hollow bones?
That rounded smile, those foalish giggles, and the way she clanked her hooves against the floor told me she was too skewed to be tricked. I would never hurt her; I would never let harm come to her. I was also a bad flight instructor; she needed a demonstration.
A seven-hour demo with kites proved useless, but Dad took many photos of Cozy wearing her sunhat and his oversized sunglasses—and my lipstick and my eyeliner. He was lucky those photos were cute.
The moment came a week later. Dad had taken a few of my old toys out of storage to wedge Cozy away from my old electric guitar—even though I never asked him to! After a bath, whilst rubbing a towel against my now makeup-less face, I tripped on a toy car. And Cozy rescued me!
Well, she flew into my wet mane seconds after I fell, but she flew! Her tugs on my hair were a kind gesture, even if she was standing on my back and proceeded to try and smack me awake. Dad got to hear her cry that day, and I observed her flutter into the other room, hooves scraping the ground, with the grace of a bumblebee. I faked the injury, by the way, tongue sticking out and everything. Dad had to pretend to be a healer; after that, Cozy went to him whenever she got a booboo.
Now I had to worry that she wasn’t walking enough. Her crib walls became a vanity as she’d fly out during the height of night, nesting herself in a den of blankets near my head. Or she’d wander into Dad’s room. Sometimes, she’d try to mold our lips and would sulk when they failed to stay in place. Other times, particularly if she had a bad case of the hungries, she’d smack our shoulders with the ferocity of a year-old fledgling.
Dad would relent and levitate her to the cold kitchen counter to heat up a bottle of milk. I was a heavier sleeper. My unconscious body would subdue her in a hug; she could only resign herself to her creator. I’d wake up hours later to a glare, and a flying foal pulling my hoof to the kitchen, casting her first word: “Now!”
That story was long enough that we arrived at the park. Only a minute away from our playground destination, Cozy detached herself from my back and headed towards a stranger, who seemed familiar with my daughter, and vice versa.
Satisfied families waved from afar at the light-blue stallion, unicorn, of darker curly mane, and a flank disfigurement of confetti showering a pink balloon poodle. A pack of balloons that attached around his waist cast me into a spectrum of translucent shadows.
He equipped a colt warrior with an air-filled sword, before standing at full attention to—
“Cozy! What a surprise running into you here!”
Cozy waved then brought both our hooves together. “Party Favor, this is Starlight Glimmer. Mom, this is Party Favor.”
The blue stallion double-grabbed my hoof with his pink aura, and I, a pinkish (kinda) mare, added my blue hue. We shook hooves; he, a bit too enthusiastically.
As he was disjointing my shoulders, he explained, “I was the party planner for Cozy’s classmate’s, Poppy’s, birthday last year. Your daughter helped me keep the whole thing a surprise. She guided the special pony down and everything!”
Oh yeah. I vaguely remembered she told me that. “Well, I’m glad to hear she was helpful!”
“Yep!” He smiled. “There was only one problem… The birthday filly had her balloon obliterated by a spray spell, and to keep the day special, Cozy ended up sacrificing hers…” He replaced his hoofshake with the string of a balloon, tied a knot around my pastern, and gleamed almost as brightly as Cozy. “But anyways, unless you want to tag along, I’ve got a celebration to catch!”
“Where to?” Cozy asked.
“A funeral,” he said. “Apparently some ponies have a tradition of throwing massive parties after a loved one dies. Some poor wealthy stallion hadn’t spoken to his family in years, but they still wanted to celebrate his life, which ended mysteriously after they called about my rates.” He shrugged. “Done.” With my bracelet tied in a butterfly pattern, he bounced off—kinda like a moonmare with the way his balloons eased his descent.
I waved my hoof—wasn’t the balloon supposed to be Cozy’s?—and said, “Nice self levitation by the way!”
“Thanks,” he shouted back. “The trick is to tie your balloons around your center of gravity!”
I meant it as a light-hearted joke because a belt of balloons couldn’t possibly match the complexities of my self-levitation, but his advice actually sounded pretty sensible.
Cozy shouted, “Bye,” and waved too until she noticed a few dark clouds.
She pushed my head towards the playground—“Mom, come on!”—and pulled me by my helium fetter.
The playground stood over a sandpit. Very busy today.
I watched an earth filly buck her friend a bit too hard on the swings, and the latter’s head form a trench as it slid across the ground. There were other spectators too: a flock of young pegasus foals perched on the swings’ bar. Maybe one or two griffons here and there? It was difficult to tell; they were so closely packed, some of them stacked on top of each other resembling loafed-up pigeons. Bolted on the swings’ metal column was a red triangular sign with that act in white covered by an ‘X’, over the words: ‘fire hazard’.
One colt’s vanilla ice cream dripped onto the soon-to-be-ground aforementioned filly. He blew a raspberry in response to her glare. She bucked the swings’ column. Its reverberation caused a chain reaction as the dozed-off majority jolted awake and fled, collapsing totem poles of foals until the top of the bar stood lifeless. The colt dropped his whole ice cream between the frenzy—on the mane of the filly’s mother.
Yeah. We weren’t here for the playground itself. Instead, we wandered to a nearby patch of trees, which had benches underneath for parents to watch over their zoo critters—poorly.
I drank from a bottle of water from my bag, offered my daughter a sip, and watched as she selected her candidate for climbing. Fifty percent of Cozy’s daily leg activity comes from these visits; the other fifty-one percent comes from kicking me in her sleep.
We slept in the same room because our apartment wasn’t exactly a penthouse, but since last month we started shared the same bed. She kept having these night terrors—I knew she was awake when the room was quiet, lacking snores—and I’d invite her to sleep under my covers. At first, I chalked it up to stress over an impending school year, but second grade has already started, and yet she still has issues. She doesn’t even use her bed anymore; after brushing her teeth, she heads straight to mine.
“Can you leave?!” Cozy yelled from high up, shaking a branch holding three pegasus foals, separate from the flock before. Those night terrors coincided with brief moments of assertion throughout the day. Hey! At least she wasn’t a pushover. Once they left, Cozy flew back down and began her perilous climb.
She arched her back like a cat—with the looks of a kitten—and jumped from branch to branch. Soaring the skies at a young age taught pegasi to be fearless, and it taught me the value of trust because it freaks me out whenever Cozy goes over a story’s height, but I’ve learned to control my fears. Mostly.
“Seems like a mountain goat replaced my daughter,” I joked. “Have you seen Cozy? I can’t seem to find her anywhere.” Now was my chance to join my daughter and test out Party’s advice, so I started to hover and—
“Mom,” Cozy said. “You’re supposed to climb up here… flying sort of defeats the purpose…”
“But… Oh, no—you’re right. Sorry, dear.” I sat back down on the picnic bench and observed my daughter's performance from the ground. Maybe I should’ve taken her to a pegasus playground in the clouds, though even if I could fly up there, I’d probably be the only unicorn.
Cozy arrived at the top and tap danced in place with giddy. A mighty yawn left her mouth before she declared, “I’ve made it to the top!”
“Incredible job, sweetie!” I said and clapped. “But maybe you come back down now? It’s getting cloudy, and Mommy’s a bit lonely on the ground all by herself.”
She thought about it, hoof to her chin, eyes to the sky.
I continued, “That old show you love’ll be on soon!”
Her drooping ears and eyelids shot up. Aimed towards me, she somersaulted off the branch, parachuting her wings a second before impact—above my conjured cushion. Yep, mostly fearless. I couldn’t help but be a mom.
Cozy pulled my balloon leash towards home. Her wings were too short to glide, yet she could still outpace my gallop. I met my obstacle: a pedestrian light on red. My daughter tried to lift me over the road, and she actually succeeded for a few seconds albeit steam was blowing out of her ears. My horn glowed, and I hovered—flung—myself to the other side.
I decided not to weigh her down. Once we got to the front of our apartment building, I pulled out our house key. “Why don’t you go on ahead and unlock the door? Since it’s an emergency.”
She wore our ring of keys over her shoulder, turned back to give Mommy a quick peck on the forehead and hug, and rushed, not to the door where I expected, but to our window. After she plucked one of her own feathers, eliciting a wince from both of us, she slid it upwards through the millimeter gap between the frame and wall, and used the friction between her tummy and the glass to slide it upwards and—presto! The window opened.
Was it always that easy for a pegasus pony to break in?! Why did she take our keys? Maybe I could practice my—never mind; she closed it.
Now I had to confront the homeless mare on the building’s doorstep. She looked at me with a half-opened eye, wondering why I’d yet to liberate her class from struggle—or why I had a mirror spell against her flank. Her burden depicted a cardboard box covered in bend marks with a square of fabric stitched over a spot. Cruel.
The air’s temperature started to drop, to where my breath became visible. I used a spell to open the main door and kept it open for the homeless mare to come inside, but she refused. With a drowsy smile, she flicked her tail against the door, then closed it with her hind leg.
Cutie marks are a mental illness.
Now that I had spare time, I discovered that Party’s advice did work! I could jump over a whole flight of stairs, and hold my hover for half a minute before my mind needed a break. The next step was to skip levels, so I fly up the center of the well, and—“Woah!” I hit my head against the side of the steps.
The yelp came from my neighbor, startled.
“Uhm… Hi, Sugar Belle,” I said, rubbing the back of my head.
“Starlight? You gave me a heart attack!” she said. “I didn’t know unicorns could float.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m trying something new. Cozy rushed ahead to watch her TV show.”
She chuckled. “Is that why you’re trying to fly? Aren’t you already a master of teleportation? And isn’t there a spell that’ll conjure you a pair of wings?”
“Teleportation is a drain, and self-levitation is a lot more powerful than a pair of butterfly wings,” I replied. “Just need to get the hang of it.”
“You two are sweet,” Sugar Belle said. “Well, I’m off. I’ve been chosen to judge a muffin contest! Feel free to come by my apartment.”
“You too!”
Our door was locked when I arrived. Cozy must’ve been too engrossed in mindless media to remember that Mommy had to be let in. My knocks went unheard, and since one vulnerability had already been found—I sparked a flash through the keyhole—click! My lockpicking spell worked.
Television turned my daughter into a moth whenever they’d air, monthly, an old black-and-white sitcom starring a neotenous blonde brat. She had some sort of hormonal condition that made her look three at twenty; and no, she’s not secretly my daughter. Cozy is a Glimmer. My daughter’s natural hairstyle resembled the brat’s though, a fact sadly discovered when she found her old baby pictures. I’m not a fan of changing it back from her pigtails, or when she copies the brat’s mannerisms with words such as—
“Golly, Mom! I didn’t hear you come in.”
Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t be bothered to look at me when you said that. At least they only aired that sitcom's reruns once a month. “Please don’t sit too close to the screen, dear.”
She didn’t listen. I levitated her onto the sofa, but she didn’t drop when I let go; she hovered above the cushions, so I had to push her down. Her moth instincts reactivated as she started to fly back over to the TV.
I had no choice but to snuggle her onto the couch. A cozy glow in my embrace, soft and warm and cuddly. When I discovered a foal was developing in my tummy, it shocked me, worried me; I wasn’t sure what to do. A spew of regretful habits, spawning from a trough in my mental state, came back to haunt me, I thought. How was I supposed to do this alone? The thought of giving her up or ‘cutting the cord’ only loudened after the ultrasound revealed a pair of wing buds. I hardly knew any pegasi growing up! What was I supposed to tell Dad? He’d be unbearably supportive!
I reached a point where I learned a memory-wiping spell, in case the recollections of my decision became too heavy to bear, before I talked myself out of it. Not to simplify the complexity of the situation back then, but every night when we sit here, and her mane of vivid turquoise brushes against my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat ease, and she looks up from her sitcom occasionally to look at me, with her reddish-brown mirrors of the soul, I feel my happiness secured.
One day, I’ll get to see my daughter all grown up, and I promise that she’ll inhabit a world equal and fair, where everycreature has access to the same opportunities, to ambition towards any future they want. No unfair advantages. No shackles to destinies they can’t control. No Princesses. A perfect world. Equal. Utopia.
“Aww,” Cozy said. “It’s over.”
“That sucks.” Oh, thank goodness!
Thursday.
After I walked her to school and we exchanged proper smiles—wide enough to be unsettling according to some ponies—I grabbed a newspaper on the way home and discovered my article, on Celestia’s imperialist crusade (spreading ‘friendship’), had been censored; and I tossed the papers to the bin.
I went home, to the kitchen, to pitch a fire, to cook lunch; we ran out of gas. I sighed. That’s just perfect…
Owned to a bit of foresight, I had a bottle of bits for rainy days, also known as the Spawn of Temptations. How could any mother keep their ‘creepy’ smile upright when explaining to their daughter why their family couldn’t afford all the cool stuff her classmates have? Our apartment was a kitchen attached to the living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and costs an exorbitant amount—I swear: when the uprising comes, I will have my landmare’s manacles of malice framed on my wall!
Cozy’s smile was worth all the bits in the Equestria, but I must stay rational and focus on the long-term benefits, the greater good.
I rang up the number on the canister from a wall-mounted phone attached near our apartment’s door and hustled for a discount, won, and set a delivery for tomorrow afternoon. The phone rang a few seconds after I had set it down.
I must’ve forgotten a detail, or it’s a telemarketer, or a scammer, or Dad, or—
“Hello? Is Ms. Glimmer here?” asked the mare on the other side, not my landlord, but—“This is Spectacle Showcase, Principle of—”
“Yes, I’m here!” I said. “Umm… what’s up?
“Well, the reason I’m calling you today is because there’s been a bit of an… incident—that involves your daughter, Cozy, and a few of her classmates.”
“Golly…” I said; that sitcom got to my head. “What did they do to her?”
“She’s not harmed. Actually, she’s the one that started it.”
Those words took a moment to process. “W-what? But she’s usually an angel!”
“That’s how she usually is,” Spectacle replied. “But strangely, something else also happened to her. It’ll probably make you a bit less mad, but I’d still encourage you to have a proper chat with your daughter over this.” Her tone became slightly cheerful.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I think it’s best you see for yourself.”
“Okay… I’ll be there soon.” I hung up.
My tongue dried as I inhaled, though my panting remained humid. Part of me knew what had happened at that moment; most of me tried to suppress it. Not until I see it for myself, repeated over and over in my head.
I faced the street that brought us to school and forced myself into a state of brief serenity. My mind’s eyes drew a picture of Spectacle’s office; and ribbons of light flowed from my horn, wrapping around my legs, around my radiance too I weaved the fabric of space and reality, and shifted my destination towards me. Alongside a flash, I teleported.
On the other side, I stood between startled parents, behind three foals, and my daughter—bearing my worst nightmare. My mind wandered to that homeless mare, how her psych distorted to existential existence driven by her damned mark. Where conformity towards a parasitic purpose triumphed all other comforts; to us, a victim of those wretched reprobates that run this city, but in the palace of her mind, conformity to her mark must’ve been nirvana.
Two of those foals had injuries. The other could’ve been a witness. My daughter had no scratches or even a bruise. Were those night terrors the presage of her slavery? Those sprouts of assertion? Had internal conformity provided fruit more euphoric than the path of virtue could dissuade? My daughter’s once-clean coat, stained by a sinful whisper. Her branding must’ve been a spectacle for Mr. Showcase to smile in front of two of her victims, at me—a deception. The subject of her talent?
Even the parents, who should’ve been cross, were joyful or jealous.
“Lucky you!” one of them said. “Your daughter’s a chess prodigy.”
Cozy doesn’t know how to play chess.
Cozy got her cutie mark: a rook-shaped stain on her coral.
A ‘wonderful cutie mark,’ a parent said. An oxymoron.
I thought there’d be more time, enough for me to find a compromise, a cure, a prophylactic, palliative, or a way to soften the blow. No. That was wishful thinking and my own fault. I told myself I’d prepare properly once one of Cozy’s classmates got theirs but… I forgot my daughter was extraordinary. She was the first, and now that’ll be recorded on their class’ yearbook page.
Behind her desk sat the principal, Spectacle Showcase: a tangerine-coated blonde unicorn, around the age of my dad, who told me what had transpired.
Cozy had approached a filly, belonging to her study group, after the latter believed a colt had stolen her lunch and said, “But isn’t your father a policepony? They’re supposed to be brave and strong and fight for what’s right, and that colt stole your lunch! How many more lunches will he have to steal before somepony stands up to him?”
Then she went to the colt and said, “That filly is twisting the truth to make you look like the villain! I bet she deliberately dumped her lunch on your plate to frame you!”
Can you guess who stole the filly’s lunch and planted it on the colt’s plate when neither were looking?
Cozy’s excuse, announced to the entire room, “I’m sorry. Stupid ol’ me got a bit confused with all these different sides and I didn’t know which friend to believe… I know the teachers are real stressed out from the new term, so I thought I’d fix it myself. Can you ever forgive me?” Her eyes hid behind her foreleg’s knee, and she started to cry.
Spectacle pulled a tissue from a box, hovered it over, and held it for Cozy to blow her nose. What was more confusing was the colt and filly forgave her, hugged her even, and normally that’s great but… coming from a trick of her mark, it felt wrong.
My heart wanted to believe her story full of holes, but a scrupulous voice in my head discussed with my monologue potential futures. I couldn’t silence myself.
“And you okay, Ms. Glimmer?” Spectacle asked.
I snapped out of my trance and looked around at an empty office, with only me, Cozy, and the principle.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, collecting Cozy (she hovered along). “This is just—so unlike her!” I glared at my daughter; she looked down.
“Yeah. It shocked me a bit too,” Spectacle said, turning to Cozy. “You’re the only one of your classmates that offers to help the teachers carry your class's test papers to the staff room. I really do hope you’ve learned your lesson, young mare.”
Cozy nodded slowly.
Noticing my dismal expression, Spectacle turned to me and said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure this'll be the only incident on her record.”
A major incident.
She paused and continued, “I know how you feel. I raised a filly myself too, you know. One day they’re charming your friends wearing an old, oversized magician's cape, holding a magic show on a cardboard stage you helped them cut out. A few years later, you discovered they’ve been kicked out of school months ago… And you only discovered that from a poster out of town… Never calls you, and apparently does street shows everyplace but here… Just like her father…”
I caught a blurry glance of an azure unicorn, wearing a purple star-spangled robe and a wizard’s hat, on her desk, before Spectacle shifted the photo towards her.
“Okay then…” I said, nudging Cozy to leave. “I’ll be sure to give Cozy a proper talking to once we get home. Bye.”
A lifeless muffled “Bye” back reached us once we were already through the halls. Outside, I couldn’t control myself, especially once I realized I left home without a cloth for my vandalism. I pulled Cozy and teleported.
Cozy swirled towards our sofa, dizzy. I snapped closed the windows and doors and shuttered them. Head turned back towards Cozy, I asked her, “Why did you do it?”
She flew an inch above my height and responded, “I already told you. I thought—”
“The actual reason.”
We stared at each other. She looked away. “How was it that I knew you’d be mad at me over this.”
“Cozy, you caused a fight between your classmates.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Cozy responded. “You’re upset because I got my cutie mark, aren’t you?”
“I…”
“All those other parents seemed happy. Even those friends of mine forgave me, and they stopped fighting when I started to glow, and they saw my rook. But you’re disappointed in me. I can’t control my cutie mark, Mom.”
I walked towards our bedroom.
Cozy continued, “I had hoped over time you’d stopping caring, like how you stopped wearing those dark clothes, but I guess it’s my fault for thinking that.”
“I’m… sorry. Mommy needs a nap. Please don’t bother me, dear.” I closed the door and trapped myself in our bedroom. Inside, I opened a window to invite a breeze, keeping a safety and privacy spell as I burrowed myself under my duvet.
Time passed. By the end, I wasn’t sure if I slept or not. That voice from earlier infected my imagination and played the same sequence of thoughts, of a lonely future, over and over again, and I felt dread for my only Princess. There were no variations between sessions; therefore, no memories formed, so I couldn’t tell if hours had passed and if so, how many between my laying there and the knock at my door.
I unlocked the door telekinetically. “You can come in.”
Cozy carried to my bedside table a plate of carbonara and a cupcake (must’ve been from Sugar Belle since we didn’t have frosting). The steam from the meal touched my muzzle, and now my appetite returned. I couldn’t be bothered with utensils right now; I grabbed pieces of hot spaghetti with my aura and flew it inside my mouth as if I were paralyzed from the neck down. Cozy offered to spoon-feed me with a fork. I rejected her, but I did say, “Thank you for the meal, sweetie,” and told her she can still sleep in our room. I wouldn’t do otherwise to her.
She undid her bow and laid it over the chairdrobe. She grabbed a towel hanging from a hook behind our door and left.
The gears of my head started to turn, and my sloppy aura grab turned into a light-blue fork made of magical construct. It twisted through the spaghetti, and though the deliciousness did help smooth my mind a bit, my eyes, immune to dread’s petrification, kept going back to Cozy’s bow—her pair of bunny ears, me and Dad calls them.
There’s no special origin for it; I bought it at the store for a single bit back when she was a suckling. But it wore many enchantments: one that made it fireproof, one that made it difficult to tear, and one that made it repair itself. Yes, it held them well and had the capacity for more.
I stopped eating—Cozy’s meal made me feel as useless of a chef as an ex-friend made me feel of a mage—and listened. Running water. Cozy was having a shower.
My daughter always forgives her mother.
Lily started down the path. Mother Nature’s playground, ripe with innate depravity. A lawless land ruled by predators fueled by a hunger for the weak, where the innocent surrender morality to play the forced game of life, all in order to survive and live in a tight, damp, and cold burrow.
Then she turned around to face the forest, but halfway through, to her side, she noticed her friends occupied by a claw machine.
A bitter Poppy watched with her hooves crossed as Cozy executed a series of precise hoof movements over a joystick, and managed to clutch onto not one, but two plushies with the claw: a ‘whammy’ (snail), and sky-blue rabbit. She gave the whammy to Lily because she had a bag and kept the rabbit for herself, tucking it into her satchel, its arms sticking out.
Cozy flew over a metal fence and found a large stick to widen a pre-existing hole underneath—to which Poppy opened it three times as wide with magic.
“You two ready to catch your very first A-plus?” Cozy asked.
“Haha, very funny,” said Poppy. “I was born ready if you must know.” She led the charge into the forest. Lily held her place with reluctance, given how trees formed a dark cavern around the dirt path Poppy followed, but a pastern fell to the back of her mane, and gently guided along.
Signs along the trail warned travelers of danger. Poppy herself walked over a plank riddled with bite marks and scratches. Lily contemplated flipping it over to read, but she couldn’t risk losing track of others. Not here.
“So,” Lily asked, “what are looking for, exactly?”
After a pause, Poppy answered, “Oh, you know. Whatever’s interesting. I’m sure we’ll know when we see it.”
Cozy, who was next to Poppy but hovered back to Lily, added, “The assignment specifications said that we could choose from any non-equine-like we wanted, and since we’ve barely gotten to know each other, it’d be rude for me to assert my own preferences… but a predator towering a pony would surely impress. Golly! You’d be the talk of the city!”
“Soooo we have no ide—” Lily heard a noise. She shut her mouth and slugged her pace, shivering. She couldn’t tell if she was losing herself, or if pairs of slit eyes teleported each time she blinked. The difference between the others seemed to corroborate the former, but what if she wasn’t? What if she was sane?
Snap! Lily squealed. It was only a branch under her hoof. She exhaled her captured breath.
“Boo!” shouted Cozy, pulling up her tail to avoid being caught in Lily’s buck. With her hooves busy, she couldn’t conceal her giggle.
Lily fell on her stomach and turned her head sideways as if it made her cheeks glow any less red.
“Sorry,” Cozy apologized, smiling. “Come on! Let’s try and discover something interesting. She dropped her tail and hind legs to help the victim of her prank, but her hoof was met with a slap. “Jeez. What’s up with you?”
“What’s up?” Lily said. “We’re in the middle of a forest, hundreds of miles away from home! I know Poppy made me go to abandoned places before but—” A howl pierced the air, and showered the pair with leaves as a colony of bats ditched their branches. “If some monster shows up, don’t expect me to save you!”
Cozy squinted her eyes and smirked. “There already is one, Lily.”
Lily gulped and looked around.
“Kidding!” Cozy said. “But come on! How could I possibly brave this dark and scary forest without your protection?” She slowly ascended above the trees to the sky.
“C-Cozy?!” Lily shouted, but not too loudly; she didn’t want to agitate any nearby monsters.
“Yes?” Cozy replied behind her, head upside down lying on a cloud. “Only we’re not ‘hundreds of miles’ from home. It’s like, an hour on bus for you. Maybe two.”
Because Cozy briefly left, Lily got a good look at the clear path ahead—and she did a double take on that ‘clear’ part. “Cozy, where’s Poppy?”
“Looks like we’ve lost her.”
“Cozy?!”
“I’m serious,” Cozy said. That turned Lily’s frustration into dread. “She probably wanted to prove herself, so she went off alone, but what do I know about why anypony acts the way they do?”
Lily probably thought, The class genius, huh, before resuming her fright. “Cozy, the path splits…”
“Well, that’s a problem,” Cozy said, whose tone now matched the situation as if a switch had been flipped, to Lily’s slight relief. “And the canopy is too thick for me to get a proper aerial view. Oh no!”
“We should find Poppy and get out of here!” said Lily, who caught her volume before it rose too loud. “It’s about to get dark.” The Moon replaced the Sun as she said that. “Great.”
“I mean, hey,” Cozy said. “Most of the scary, flashy creatures only show up at night, right? Since Poppy has the camera, if she does run into a monster, at least she’ll be able to get a few good photos?”
Lily glared at Cozy. “You’re not helping.”
They heard a splash. It came from their right, hidden behind the trees.
Lily nearly fainted when she turned and found that Cozy had disappeared. It took three scouts of the sky before she caught a reflection of the filly’s eyes against the dark. The pegasus pony was on a branch facing the noise.
“We should probably check it out,” Cozy said as she entered the foliage. “It could be Poppy.”
Lily heard another howl and had no choice but to follow. She asked in a loud whisper, “Why would it be Poppy? It’s freezing!”
“You’re right, but she probably heard the noise too, and if we’re going towards it, she’ll probably go towards it as well.”
Lily had only her hooves to protect herself against the thorny bushes. Mini steams surrounded by mud nearly made her slip, especially when she had to jump over them or traverse a mossy fallen stump.
Cozy flew over all that and watched. Her only struggle was a single cobweb. The present spider bent its legs, ready to ponce at the filly, but the filly looked back at the spider. It peered into her eyes with eight of its own and left.
“Nice bow, Lily,” Cozy said, arriving at a patch clear of trees on the other side.
Lily felt around her mane and smacked off a branch. She twisted and flailed her infested leg as she noticed a Goliath of a spider had landed on it. The insect smacked the ground twice, got back up, and readied itself. It pounced at the filly.
Cozy crushed it, grounded it, and scrapped her hooves against a rock. “Look like Poppy’s not here.”
The mix of gratitude and irritation brewed in her chemical mind had become too much for Lily to handle and showed itself; she cried.
“Oh geez, Lily, don’t lose hope,” Cozy said. She flew over to brush the dust off the other’s mane and wrapped a leg over her back. “I’m sure Poppy’s safe. She strikes me as the type of filly who’d scream for the hill if she even saw the web of that spider you fought.” Cozy chuckled. “Why don’t we look inside that cave? If I ever got myself lost, I’d probably find someplace to hide for the night.”
Lily blew her nose with a leaf and smiled. “Poppy sure can hold a high note, but… maybe you should go ahead without me.”
“But then we’ll both be lost.” Cozy flew in front of Lily and touched the sides of her shoulders. “Look, I admit, it was a really dumb idea to come here. We’ve been ignoring you all day, and if we had listened, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. And I’m a jerk for pranking you. Sorry.” Cozy held her head down.
Lily brought it back up. “It’s okay.”
Cozy continued, “Right now, we need to stick together, so that once we find Poppy, we can skedaddle and never come back! But at least once we arrive back home, we’ll have one heck of a story to tell!”
Lily still looked a bit unsure, so Cozy brought the other’s head down and started to tie, over her mane, her own bow.
“I’ve had this same bow since before I had feathers,” Cozy said. “I remembered you complimented it earlier… I think you should have it. I’ve always felt warm when I wear it. Maybe some of that warmth will rub off on you.”
“Cozy…”
“Don’t worry about it! Being scared doesn’t really align with my cutie mark.” Cozy paused. “It was from my mom but… she gave it to the fake me. I don’t think she’ll give me me a replacement… Come on! Let’s go to the cave, together.”
Lily caught Cozy’s contagious smile, and the two ventured forth towards the cave, spawned from a mound with an entrance that sloped downwards, ameliorated by a curtain of vines and a tree overhead.
The hoofsteps they walked past seemed a bit… bigger, than a pony’s, but Cozy wasn’t worried so neither was Lily. The latter was only a C+ student, after all, four students above the class average.
“We should leave your bags outside,” Cozy said. “Wouldn’t want them weighing us down, would we?”
Lily took a moment to respond as she gazed into the abyss, where she prayed to Celestia housed Poppy. “No, you’re right.” She nodded and propped her bag against the side of the entrance.
Cozy entered, soon enveloped by darkness, the sound of her hummingbird wing flaps soon overwritten by the howls of the wind behind. A storm was due.
Stoic to the tightening chest choking her heart, whose beat thumped her ears, Lily braved the cave.
Barely a percent of moonlight penetrated the shadows, and unlike Cozy, she had to avoid tripping over rocks. She caught herself after each fumble but would produce a sharp yelp, though her tendons ached louder. It would’ve been easier to run down the slope, but also noisier. Don’t skip P.E.
She bridled her breathing—calm, collected, cool. It’s all under control. We’ll find Poppy. We will.
“Poppyyy?” Lily whispered. “…Cozyyy?”
Lily closed her eyes—useless in this void—and focused on her ears. A pegasus’ flaps were part of sounds ponies learned to tune out, along with the undulating pitch of an active horn. But Lily should’ve been able to hear it on a deliberate search. She could only make out breathing—and not her own.
A flash of light revealed an even cavern and a mass of fur. Bang! Lightning struck. Close by. Loud. Very loud. Lily jumped and got peppered with a layer of dust shaken off the ceiling, and bits of debris slid down the entrance slope.
“Oh no!” Cozy cried from outside.
Lily swallowed. Her frozen lips uttered, “C-Cozy?”
“I’m a coward, Lily,” Cozy said. “A fraud. I’m so sorry. My wings stopped working once I saw the depths and… I wasn’t brave enough to tell you. Now you’re trapped. The entrance is completely gone! Oh, but don’t worry. I’ll go get help right now!”
“Can’t you just stay here, please?” Lily begged. “…Cozy?”
Nothing.
A lack of options held Lily in place. The underground froze her ears. She couldn’t shout. She couldn’t see. Her fate was tied around Cozy’s fetlock. All she had was touch and sound: the feeling of the beast’s body heat, and the sound of its restlessness.
“Princess, Celestia, please…” she prayed. Her prayers went unanswered.
The beast twitched more, groaned more; it coughed and sniffed, and kept heightening in energy and lowering in intervals. Lily felt her tears return to her cheeks.
She clutched onto Cozy’s bow and tried to slow her heart before it burst. They taught her in school the very basics of cave geography, how tunnels branched off and would narrow and stretch for miles. When they showed the class a video of a spelunking expedition Poppy said, “I’d rather die than squeeze myself through those cracks”, and then Lily agreed. Not anymore. She wanted to live.
Lily recalled the image of the flash and remembered that there was, maybe, a hole at the back of the chamber that went further down. It would only be temporary until Cozy arrives with help.
She felt the dry sides of the cave and hugged the edge with her side. Her eyes locked onto where her ears estimated the beast to be, with one foreleg outwards to feel for a wall.
For a moment, her plan seemed to have prospects.
She tripped and fell face-first into a blob of warm fur. Her ears were an itch away from a second source of snoring, her hoof soaking in a puddle of drool. The temptation to breathe felt like a wasp sting, but if she did, and it heard, what would happen? How would her parents react to:
“Lily Lullaby dies stupidly in a cave.”
Would Poppy be able to live with herself, or would she move on to Cozy?
Lily felt the beast’s muscles tense under its skin. The storm started to pick up outside. Raindrops could be heard behind the sound of wind whistling through the trees. Thunder was only inevitable.
The beast coughed and placed a claw over Lily’s tail. It’s over. Drained of hope, Lily officially entered the stage of desperation, where she could either try out hopeless ideas or meet her maker.
“May all your dreams be sweet tonight—” Lily sang a lullaby. A relatively old one about Celestia and Nightmare Moon that you might’ve heard of before.
“Safe upon your bed of moonlight—” The two beasts started to ease. The-one-next-Lily’s ligaments started to loosen, and its snore became uninterrupted. The filly’s spirit started to lift, as she held her tone.
“And know not of sadness, pain, or care—” And as she went on, she felt a glow deep inside her heart, and what could be described, by most, as an epiphany of fate.
“And when I dream, I'll fly away and meet you there—” And the earth pony started to hover as she sang. “Sleep... Sleep... Sleep... Shhh…”
Darkness returned to the cave, but the residual luminescence of a fresh—cutie mark—could be discerned. Three purple musical eighth notes stamped themselves onto both sides of her hind. But the celebration was premature.
Whatever her soothing spell had done to sedate the monsters had been undone by the show of her marking. Who would’ve guessed those things were evil? Hm?
The beast beside her got up, sniffed the air, and growled. It needn’t rely on noise or scent. The glow of her stubborn stain had yet to vanish.
“Lily!” shouted a voice—Poppy’s.
“Poppy?” Lily responded. She was wrapped around her stomach in an amber ring of light and pulled towards rescue. The glow of said ring helped her duck her head under the low frame of the cavern’s entrance, as Poppy looked towards the main. There was light now, enough for Lily to appreciate her friend’s colors.
Poppy lost her hoofing a few times but never halted pace. Lily was brought through a sliver in the entrance’s dirt walls before Poppy leaped through herself. The unicorn entered the embrace of moonlight and held onto a dangling root belonging to that tree overhead on the mound. She created a strong enough link between her horn and the root of the tree that her horn stood frozen midair. Poppy strained the muscles in her neck and her magic’s mind to pull down, until—her neck was freed. The entrance collapsed.
The two fillies caught their breaths—soon to be joined by another.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Cozy, hovering down from where the collapsed tree once stood.
Lily composed herself to a presentable level. “Thanks for getting help, Cozy.”
“Her?” Poppy said. “Cozy didn’t get help! I only found you because her tail was sticking out of that tree. Why in Equestria would you go inside a cave by yourself?”
Lily looked at Cozy, and Poppy followed along. Cozy dropped Lily’s bag and slid it to the side, took a deep breath, and furrowed her eyebrows.
“Don’t you dare pin the blame on me!” Cozy said. She tapped at Poppy’s chest. “You’re the one who wanted to go here in the first place. You’re the one who insisted that they could protect us. You’re the one who got lost, and if you hadn’t, Lily never would’ve gone looking for you in that cave.”
“I… I thought a pegasus pony would’ve been able to spot me! I kept my horn glowing and…”
Lily's eyes met above Cozy’s mane, who hovered back and continued, “Or maybe you thought that your best friend was dead weight? You’ve been neglecting her poor feeling all day. Is that how you treat all your friends?”
Lily’s eyes joined Poppy, but Cozy kept on continuing. “And you haven’t even noticed that your best friend got her cutie mark, and she got it because she had to save herself from your decision. And since yesterday’s incident was your idea too, I guess that’s how I got my mark.”
Cozy stuck out her tongue, oblivious to the shadow beyond her. “You don’t deserve to have friends. That’s probably why you’re still a blank… flank…”
Cozy pulled back her tongue and gulped.
“Nice cutie mark, by the way,” Poppy whispered to Lily by her side.
“Thanks,” she responded.
Either by the glow of my horn or my scent or my height, Cozy knew was standing behind her. She turned around, hesitantly. She had so much confidence when lying to others. None of that showed when talking to me.
“It’s Cozy’s mom,” Poppy whispered to Lily.
“What?!” Lily whispered back. “How can a mage live in a house you called ‘a dump’?”
“H-hey. Your help arrived, Lily.” Cozy awkwardly smiled, wiping off a layer of sweat off her forehead.
I glared. “It’s been one day, and you’ve already decided to turn rebellious, huh?”
“W-what?” Cozy hovered back. “No—I wouldn’t… turn rebellious against you!”
I looked back. There were three monsters, not two, trapped in the confines of my magic. They’ve escaped the cave and I tossed them into the air, eliciting a “Wow,” from both Lily and Poppy.
“So, lightning just so happened to strike the entrance of the cave your ‘friend’ was struck in?” I asked the pegasus filly.
Cozy wouldn’t look back at the others. “Equestria’s so old, everything is bound to happen at least once, right?”
Lily and Poppy might’ve caught on, but I couldn’t tell because they were too focused on my mystique. I held them both and Cozy in a bubble of magic and teleported us away.
We hopped to the front of the school, and caught Ms. Spectacle leaving at the perfect time for me to hoof over the two nauseous fillies, and leave without explanation; I was too mad to talk.
Cozy felt none of the symptoms of magical transmission sickness. One buff of many owed to the mental fortitude of that sinful insignia.
She had only one question: “How did you know?”
I showed her the ribbon I snatched from Lily’s mane, and she was right about one thing: I wouldn’t have given it to this filly. “Maybe a slight invasion of privacy, I admit, but innocent fillies have nothing to hide from a telepathic charm, especially not from their own mothers.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cozy said. “It’s just… Lily never invited me to her birthday party, so I thought I’d scare her a bit.”
That was a level of petty I sadly could believe, as expected now from this new Cozy. She’s testing the waters, I’m sure. Refining her tactics to work on some plan big. It would be immoral not to stop her.
“I, uhm…” Cozy murmured. She went to the floor to pull out the bunny from her bag. “I won this for you. Seriously! I would’ve given it to Poppy or Lily if I hadn’t.”
It glowed blue—along with the rest of the dark room—as I grabbed, inspected it, and sighed. “I know there’s still good in you, dear.”
“T-thanks,” Cozy said. “So, I think I’ll call it a—” I held her in my aura’s grip. “—day. Mom, what are doing?”
She displayed a cadence of panic. “It’s not your fault, dear,” I assured. “It’s that disgusting graft from Discord rotting on your flank! It needs to be removed.”
“R-removed?! But that’s impossible!”
“It was impossible, and maybe it would’ve stayed impossible if you had a bit more self-control.”
The room turned white as I rotated my daughter and aimed my horn towards the root of her issues. I’ve never tried this spell on a pony before, so I cast a sound barrier. Just in case. There’s no pleasure in this for me, but if I don’t intervene with an appropriate measure, I know where my daughter will end up. This is for the greater good.
I knocked her asleep with another spell and gently closed her eyes. “Just relax, sweetie. You’ll wake up tomorrow as if none of this ever happened. The same as yesterday.”
Cozy didn’t snore that night.
Today started off quiet.
Again, I didn’t enjoy last night, but love burdened me to take the necessary measures. I could’ve done nothing, enjoyed the ostensible love my daughter still had for me, and waited for the day she got caught committing something major. A lovely talking point for Celestia to use against me. Or perhaps she’d blackmail me with a lighter sentence for my daughter.
Though I know it’ll take a while before she accepts her old life back, I couldn’t let day one of her sobriety be characterized by sloth.
I knocked on our door. “Cozy, darling? Can I come in?”
After no response, I entered.
My daughter’s head lay mopey on our desk, left cheek smushed into a thick pancake. On the other side, she held a red crayon between her lips. There were seven lines drawn across a piece of printer paper, dividing it into cuboids (I assume she intended for squares), and another piece was torn into cards with different drawings. Two appeared to be a stick insect of Princess. Eight looked resembled a trident with a thick handle. Half of them looked like lollipops.
"Have you been drawing, honey?” I asked, tilting my head to meet her sideways gaze. “It looks very well done, but how about next time you use your whole neck when you draw? I heard that makes the longer lines a lot smoother.”
She shifted her eyes towards me and sighed through her nose. Not very talkative today.
I also took a look at my little accident; a piece of her coat got ripped off when I replaced her cutie mark with a mathematically perfect equal sign. She was unconscious so I doubt she felt pain, but before she woke up I patched it with two heart-sharped bandages. Hair is difficult to heal.
And despite me removing the latest enchantment on her bow and regifting it to my new old daughter, Cozy would ignore it existed.
But below her flank, I noticed her feathers, or lack thereof. A few of her secondaries were missing. I don’t remember that from my spell. A hunch brought me to the bin, and there they were, tips covered red. Four of them.
“Oh babe, please don’t tell me you’ve been plucking your feathers over this.” I placed a leg over her arched back.
“I was preening…” Cozy said, not very convincingly, even if she did have her… thigh’s temptations. Running out of truthful euphemisms, Starlight.
“Okay,” I said. “But please don’t hurt yourself. It hurts me to see you like this, but… one day you’ll understand. I promise.” I pecked her cheek.
“Why don’t we go to the park?” I suggested. “It’ll clear up your mind. Hm?”
She didn’t respond, so I shook her upper back gently. “Pretty please? For Mommy’s sake?”
Cozy stretched her wings and flapped a few times, a relief to my eyes, but then dropped her pair dead. “Can’t we stay at home?” she asked.
I excavated her onto my back, said, “You don’t have to exercise too much. It’ll only be a quick stroll,” and teleported. On the other side, we arrived—a hoof’s length away from Party Favor.
“Starlight! Cozy!” he greeted. “Fancy bumping into you two again!” But then he took a look at my daughter and laid down his smile. The cloudy sky hid most of Cozy’s coat desaturation from my spell—a temporary side effect, I’m sure. Still, he held a concerned furrow.
“Gosh,” he continued. “Did the weather get you down?”
I answered, because I knew Cozy wouldn’t, “She’s been drained by the start of a new school year and all that. I thought a midday walk would soothe the soul a bit.”
Party faintly smiled at my response and nodded. “Yeah, school can be tough. I stopped paying attention once I got my cutie mark and realized my special talent. Couldn’t be happier, except for right now.”
He passed my daughter a ‘get well soon’ balloon and prompted the string onto her hooves; wingpits, tips; and muzzle. Didn’t work.
“I’ll teleport it home,” I said and did. “But we better get going.”
Party waved goodbye and attended to his paying foal clientele.
Practically no one was playing at the playground today, besides maybe three of those wannabe pigeons from two days ago. The last time this happened, we took advantage of the situation. I’d push her on the swings, and she’d fly off and surprise me from behind. Now her legs lay lifelessly to my side. She never needed a mark to have fun before. Why does she need one now?
What am I saying? Culture caused this. Society was structured as mark-ocracy. A bit of education can mend that, and I can start by showing her how to have fun again.
I propped my daughter on a low branch of the same tree she climbed the day before. She laid down and started up at the covered sky. Surely a few missing feathers didn’t ruin her ability to fly.
I lifted her up onto her legs. She tried to sit down but I didn’t let her: I’d pull her tail back up. Eventually, she stood without assistance. Progress…
“Very good, dear.” I knew repairing her psyche wouldn’t be easy. That rook stole more than my daughter’s vivid colors. The tendrils of egotism had latched onto her mind and took away parts of her personality. But I caught the problem early.
My daughter threw her jelly legs over the nearest branch, where she also rested her chin. Her wings' flutter brought her altitude to a climb. The brain was repairing itself. I’ll recall this event for months after as she could be happy again. However long that takes, I’ll be there.
I thought I’d encourage her, so I pulled her tail up over the branch. She looked at me. I don’t know why, but my gesture—from my heart—made her snap.
She groaned and yelled, bucked the tree’s trunk, and fueled by her tantrum, she shouted, “Enough! I’ve had it with your stupid philosophy! I want my cutie mark back, now!”
I looked around to make nocreature heard. There were no cameras, no Party Favor, and no creatures—except those three pegasi, who appeared at the base of my leg.
I looked at Cozy with begging eyes. I can’t handle public embarrassment. “Come on, dear. Let’s not cause a commotion—”
“No!” she shouted and hovered. “I want my cutie—”
I placed a hoof on her mouth. “Are you sure you wouldn’t settle for an ice cream? It’ll make Mommy really sad if you—” She bit me; I winced.
As I cursed Celestia’s name, my daughter hovered down to the foal trio.
“Do you want to know what she did to me?” she asked, met by head tilts and a nod. My horn charged as I grabbed her right before she undid her bandage. I don’t know if those foals would’ve known what a rook-shaped patch of skin indicates, but I couldn’t risk it. If they did, Celestia would have all the evidence she’d need to lock me up.
Equestria wasn’t ready for that stage of my plan.
In our house, once I regained my composure, a porcelain plate shattered on my head. My shield spell stopped her second attempt. The plate, halfway through the bubble, fell to the floor; Cozy pulled her leg out, leaving a hole. She grabbed a sharp piece from the floor and flailed it through said hole.
A drop of blood traveled past my ear. I felt the bump forming under the skin of my scalp and winced.
Cozy demanded to know, “Where’d you hide my cutie mark?!”
“It’s gone,” I responded in a tone that was hopefully stern, probably pathetic. “I destroyed it—poof! Disappeared! Because you can’t control yourself, and you’ve proven me right. Now stop being a—brat! And go to your room!”
She paused and inspected the curls of my brow, the dilation of my pupils, and my twitching. “I don’t believe you,” she said.
I don’t know how she knew, especially without her repertoire of traits from her dark triad. A mark was supposed to embody difference, and the average pony would’ve have been able to tell, but Cozy could. Or maybe I was too heartbroken to lie convincingly. She never raised her voice at me before, and today she hurt me physically, intentionally on the head. Yes. My anger started to show.
My horn held every object still. From the sofa and bed to each spec of dust, all were still and blue. Cozy could only jiggle her muscles against her bones, before I sent her to our bedroom closet and locked the door, as well as freeze every object inside. I pinned the spell to the doorknob, so it’ll stay in effect even when I’m asleep, just in case she uses a shirt to make an upside-down tie to… break me.
I need to lie down.
“I’ve had these strange recollections since before I started my cult. It’s… blurry. I can't recall the dreams once I wake up, but I remembered one day when Double Diamond checked up on me, because apparently I sobbed very loudly in my sleep, and afterwards I...”
“Go on.”
“Gather all of my victims… and I’d erase their memories of the past twenty-four hours.”
“Why in Tartarus would you do that?”
“I… I’m not sure. It was a habit I had, as if a voice was screaming inside my head, and if I didn’t listen to it I’d feel… depressed. Isn’t that strange?”
“Sure is! But I’m not sure why you’re coming to me for it. I’m not a therapist, but if you let me out of my cage, I’m sure I’d be swell at it.”
“I came to you because we did some digging in your room, and we found a note of your muffin recipe in your school binder.”
“You have no value for privacy, Starlight. You’re no better than Luna. Also, they’re cupcakes, not muffins.”
“Yeah, well, I thought that recipe looked familiar, so I went to Sugar Belle and it was identical to the one that, apparently, I gave her when I indoctrinated her into my cult.”
“How do they sell?”
“Like hotcakes.”
“You’re bumming me out. Y’know, I can’t tell if it’s day or night in Tartarus. And you’ve left me in a cage too small to fly. It’s not healthy for a pegasus filly, but I know you don’t care.”
“I do care, even if you tried to banish me and all of magic to a void. Honestly, I… I might be the only one that cares.”
“Y’know, if Discord or Twilight tried to drain all of magic, you wouldn’t even have given them community service.”
“I doubt that.”
“Also, if you had failed to escape Twilight when she freed your pathetic village all those moons ago, you’d be sharing Tartarus in your very own cage. I know you’d be an awful roommate, though. Crying and begging. How is any of this fair?”
“I’m trying my best, Cozy, but it’s a bit harder to convince the Sisters. Discord took a thousand years, but I know you don’t have that long. And even then, with Discord, Twilight was reluctant. And I had to literally show her my past before she knew how to help me, but once she did, she really shows you why she’s the Princess of Friendship.”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Otherwise, maybe if Discord hadn’t eaten those reformation spells…”
“Hah! As if that'll work. My cutie mark is more powerful that a some flashy spell!”
“Cutie marks can mean different things… And anyways, we’re not exactly sure what there is to teach you. You sorta know everything there is to know about Friendship.”
“Mhm!”
“…I’ve done some research, or actually, I tried to dabble in a bit of hypnotherapy but only got a few snippets and… have you ever heard of the sitcom, ‘Love that Foal?’ It’s a bit old, but the main character looks a bit like you.”
“I’m not her. She’s dead. I’m a real filly, Ms. Glimmer… but if you have to know, I have a few episodes memorized up in here. I’d be glad if you brought me a portable TV set or anything else to do in Tartarus besides talk to a grumpy centaur or take care of your dog. Luna, you’re such a terrible pet owner!”
“It’s kinda funny…”
“What is?”
“That’s my favorite show.”
“…Golly. Okay. You’re even nuttier than I thought. This conversation is over!”
“Cozy! Wait—”
The distance between us grew as the darkness enveloped her world, and I was pulled back into a portal.
“Dost thou bear any positive developments?” Luna asked.
“She admitted to a few things but isn’t exactly ready to apologize. I mean, I didn’t ask but…”
“I wouldn’t bother. I've peered into her dreams once or twice before, until she noticed my presence. Through means I’ve yet to fully discover, she banished me from her mind. The nerve!”
“You think maybe she’ll be a bit more agreeable if you made her a cage a bit bigger or maybe leave her a book or two?”
“We sent that rogue back to whence she came! If she wishes to usurp our throne we hold the right as the defenders of Equestria and her Harmony to deal her a punishment befitting for a fallen Princess. Perhaps if maturity provides her a morsel of inhibition, we'll reevaluate our position in a century or two.”
“It’s difficult to reform somepony when you don’t even know who their mother is.”
“…You're kidding, right?”
“Wait, what?”
“Huh. I honestly expected you to break down about now, but if she never told... perhaps she does care about you… perhaps... there's a bit of good in that filly... arguable whether it's a workable amount, but—”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hm? Oh, uhm… Oh my! Seems that a cloud has wandered overhead! The astral link is severing! Ahhhh!”
“…”
“Gheaahh!” I was awoken by a blood-curdling scream, by none other than a certain magician.
“Starlight! Trixie had the most terrifying, abrupt, horrific nightmare! I dreamt that Cozy Glow had succeeded in her plans to drain all of the magic from Equestria!”
“And that I’d be floating in an endless abyss?”
“Well, of course, that too, and also Cozy would ask me to perform for her, but Trixie wouldn’t be able to use any of her real magic in her stage magic shows!”
“…You should really call your mom sometimes.”
Today, I woke up Cozyless
Today, I woke up Cozyless, with a note taped onto my horn. I don’t know how but she always woke up before me and would unplug my alarm clock so she could shake me awake. After I while, I didn’t bother to plug it back in.
Last night, I fell asleep before she entered our bedroom, and today, she left our house by herself. Normally, I’d be scared whether she made it, but my fears over her future put those doubts into perspective; they felt silly now.
The note said:
“I know you’re still really upset with me, so I didn’t want to bother your sleep. Please stop stressing yourself out. It’s not healthy, and if something in your brain bursts, I don’t know how I’d live with myself. School ends late today, but I don’t know when, so please don’t pick me up. I’ll fly myself home.”
As far as fate fetters go, one for calligraphy wouldn’t have been so bad.
“I choose Cozy!” said ‘Poppy’ Popularity Contest, a lavender, pink-maned unicorn filly who wore a red bow and whose hair flowed over her ears. She was part of Cozy’s class, as you could’ve guessed, popular, and sat at the back despite the official seating arrangements. Her head was a pilgrimage where knowledge went to die, and if her father wasn’t a tutor to the foals of wealthy parents, she would’ve failed first grade.
But Poppy wasn’t known as a bully. Her chatter had her a nuisance to teachers, sure, but Cozy didn’t listen in class either. She doodled and slept out of boredom, but still held the highest grades in the level.
On the first day, teachers would try to trap her. They’d read their name list and ask, “Cozy! Do you know the name of this—”
Cozy’s head would leap off her desk. “He was betrayed by his brother, Scorpan, and was sent to Tartarus forever and ever and ever, but his thirt for power was only fully realized after he witnessed the feats of Sendak the Elder, which made him want to be less like his father, King Vorak, and more like his gram-gram—”
“Uhm, actually, we’re not on that chapter yet… or any chapter… Look, just, please at least pretend to pay attention… and maybe see a doctor about your snoring. It’s worryingly loud.”
“…I don’t snore…” Cozy would rest her head on the table. “Mommy’s the one that snores…”
Poppy had a best friend, a ‘Lily Lullaby’, a light-blue earth filly who had an indigo mane with a musical treble clef clip. It flowed predominantly towards her left shoulder and then spiraled into itself, resembling a single note.
Context over.
The bell rang. A stampede ensued. The teacher asked that the foals push in their chairs before leaving. Only Cozy did.
She greeted her teacher goodbye by name as he turned off the lights and went towards the back of the class to meet Poppy and Lily: her new project partners.
“Cozy!” Poppy said. “I’m guessing your sorted things out with Mommy?” She snickered. “I would’ve thought after yesterday, you’d be grounded for life. Thanks for doing that by the way!”
“No worries,” Cozy said. “But what do you have against those two anyways?”
“Me? Nothing!” Poppy said. “I don’t even want to share a class with those two dweebs. Especially not that colt those dumb glasses and stupid wings, unlike yours of course… It makes me very happy knowing he spends his weekends at the school library studying, but you take one look at our textbooks and best his grades in class.”
Lily mouthed a four-letter word rhyming with ‘dove’, and Poppy cleared her throat.
Poppy continued, “Anyways before we demotivate ourselves, why don’t we head to the mall to grab lunch? School’s mostly a get-together, isn’t it? None of this stuff is useful unless you become a teacher yourself. It’s a pyramid scheme!”
She got on her hooves and went towards the door, notably the only one without a bag. Lily had a saddlebag, while Cozy wore a satchel because it doesn’t choke her wings, which carried only a water bottle and two silent reading books.
The Hayburger joint became visible outside the mall. Once it had, Poppy shoved Cozy and told her, “You’re the flier! Go save us a spot in line.”
Besides a certain granddad, causing a few abnormalities in her diet, we tended to avoid fast food. Her cheeks were as round as a cherub’s; she didn’t need to ruin herself in the symbol of Canterlot’s reign! Well, Celestia is more of a cake person, but I’m sure some Princess adores that deep-fried oil.
Poppy apologized for her rudeness came when, after Cozy ordered a classic burger and an ice cream flurry sprinkled with bits of heart-shaped gummies, Poppy realized Cozy had no bits.
“Oh yeah,” Poppy said. “I forgot your family’s broke.”
“Remember when you ate that glowing candy in Cozy’s bag you teleported to her house?” Lily asked with a giggle.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Poppy responded. “It felt as if my brain was being tucked inside out.” She paid for their meals whilst Cozy brought their tray to a U-shaped cushion booth.
“I never noticed how beautiful your bow looks, Cozy,” Lily said. “So many beautiful patterns.”
“My mom’s number?” Cozy chuckled.
“Yeah, it’s not all that impressive,” said arriving Poppy. “I have a bow too, you know, with a color.”
Lily and Poppy sat at the sides with Cozy sandwiched in between since she could fly. Her wings, however, were useless for holding things. They were currently too short to touch her ears, according to the weekly markings we make on the wall to track her growth. So, Cozy ate earth pony style.
Poppy sipped from her sweaty cup of soft drink and asked, “So Cozy, how does it feel to have a cutie mark? Lily’s jealous.”
Lily swore, “I’m not!”
Cozy swallowed, shrugged, and responded, “I’m the same pony as I always was, but I wasn’t sure who that pony was until now. Some things never made sense to me, and now I know why. With that in mind, I feel free, and daring!”
“Free?” Poppy asked, head tilted.
“Yep!” Cozy replied. “Free to ask about what we’re doing for our assignment!”
Lily patted her muzzle with tissues. “Isn’t that two weeks away?” She asked. “A bit early, don’t you think?
“Nope! Better to get it all over and done with,” replied Cozy. “And besides, with me on your team, it’ll be a total cakewalk. All we have to do is write a report on a cute and cuddly little critter!”
“Why a critter?” Lily asked. “Aren’t we allowed to choose any creature in Equestria?”
“Well, a critter is simple. Don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m not sure you fillies could handle anything more extreme, that’s all.” Cozy’s eyes drifted away, and she counted down from three with her feathers.
“What?” Poppy had ceased fidgeting with her straw and deadpanned at Cozy.
“Well, you two seemed more of… school library goers than adventurers. And besides, it’s not as if have a camera to capture a photo of a creature anyways.”
“I so do!” Poppy said as she levitated out Lily’s flip phone from the latter’s bag, featuring a one-eighty rotatable screen and a number pad with a trackball.
“You can afford one of those new gizmo things?!” Cozy said.
“Yep!” Poppy said to a roll of Lily’s eyes. “And it takes pictures.” She showcased to Cozy a gallery of compressed mosaics and a video. If Cozy had that she’d record the theme song to that sitcom to torture Mommy with!
“Golly… Well, either way, where would we go? I mean, the Zoo is basically a living library: inadequate, expensive, cruel, and otherwise Manehattan isn’t exactly renowned for its local wildlife.”
“But there are a lot of cool animals out in the forests outside of Manehattan,” said Poppy.
Cozy gasped. “No!” You can’t be serious! All the way out there?”
“Yeah…” Lily said. “You aren’t serious, right Poppy?”
Poppy looked at the table. “Well…”
“As I thought,” Cozy said. “Poppy doesn’t know enough spells to keep us safe enough to travel through those woods. Plus, I’m the only one with a cutie mark. I’d be carrying you two.”
Lily looked a bit insulted, but Poppy’s eyes couldn’t be wider.
The latter got off her seat and stomped her hoof. “Well—maybe I’ll get my cutie mark when we go there, now! And it’ll probably be a lot cooler than some… nerdy chess piece!”
Cozy flew to Poppy’s side. “Oh my! Welp, what sort of a friend would I be if I left you two all alone? I’ll float along to make sure we win over that A-plus-ward-winning picture.”
The two went towards the exit. Poppy asked, “What about you Lily?”
“I… don’t know.”
Cozy said, “You don’t trust your best friend’s ability to catch a monster mid-air with magic? I’m sure if she’s this brave to go to the woods, she’s real rescuer material!” She laid a hoof on Poppy’s mane, which the unicorn swiped off.
Lily sighed. “Fine.”
The three caught the next bus, going over the bridge, to the edge of the city.
I had teleported Cozy her dinner: my best attempt at her pasta recipe; she said it tasted like horse apples. My daughter used to love my cooking; was she lying before or now?
I went to bed early to avoid thinking about it, but my knockout spell wore out at 3 AM. It would be unhealthy to cast it on myself again, but the sad emptiness was overwhelming. Never could I have imagined that my daughter would turn out this way, and what was I supposed to do? She’ll get over it, right? Only time will tell. Whether it takes days or months, I promise you, Cozy, you’ll get better.
Until then, I can’t send her back to school. Maybe I should homeschool her instead. I’m teacher material; that could work. Her bow informed me of how brainwashed her teachers were. They basically worship Celestia, to the point where her portrait hangs between the announcement speakers.
It was quiet, and not because of my spells. I’ve never slept by myself since the day I first held Cozy.
…
I should talk to her. It’ll be a bad start to the day if she wakes up in that closet. She needs to know that I still care about her and have faith that we’ll get through this together.
I rolled out of my covers and stood on the floor. My hooves touched a puddle. Now that my senses were back online, I smelled something—chemical—in the air and coming from the liquid around my hooves. My horn’s torch revealed that the leak wasn’t exclusive to one spot. Our clothes and papers were soaked. The sides of my bed, and only the sides, were dripping.
We had to get out of here. I used a spell to unlock Cozy’s door, but that wasn’t necessary. On the other side of the keyhole, two of her feathers stuck out.
There wasn’t a letter on my desk or a drawing to say goodbye. My daughter wasn’t in the closet. Once dread struck my stomach, I barely processed the blast.
The air ignited. Puddles of gasoline flambeed. I stood shocked under my shield, but my bubble included a section of the floor; flames rose up to my knees and ruined my tail before I could cast a counter. A wisp of my extinguishing spell suffused into the space inside my bubble.
Something must’ve caused the gas to ignite. I open the door out of the bedroom, also to check whether her rook was still in its jar. A canister fell, previously propped against the door, and rolled to my hoof in an arc, the one I ordered before my world ended.
It was only half empty. The canister exploded.
My daughter wants me dead.
