Amnesia: Twilight's Descent

by Achilles

Rating: mature
Tags: Horror, Crossover, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Dark
Length: 5813

When Twilight wakes up in a room she didn't recognise, with no memory of where she was or how she got there, she steps out into the darkness in search of answers. Her dark descent has begun.

When Twilight wakes up in a room she doesn't recognise, totally clueless as to where she is or how she got there, the first thing on her mind is answers. She has no way of knowing, when she takes her first step into the darkness, what horrors await her in the bowels of Brennenburg Castle. Her dark descent has begun.

Published 2024-02-02 19:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-02-10 23:41:41 UTC

Amnesia

'I can't believe this is happening! That monster... dear Faust, how are we going to come back from this?!'

'I-I don't-... a moment, just l-let me think.'

'We don't have time, Savvy!'

'... There’s one way... here. Here, hold this.'

'What are you... no... oh no. You're not going to-'

'Just take it! Alexander's servants will be here any minute! We must do this as quickly as we can!'

'I don't know if I can.'

'Twilight, please! This is the only chance we have! Think about your friends. If they find out what happened here, they will never forgive you! Do you want that?'

'O-Okay!... Okay, here goes...'

‘Wait. Wait, what's... Twilight? T-Twilight can you hear me?! J-Just b-breathe, Twilight! Just-’

A flame whispered, and her twitching ears woke her. She pried her eyes open to bleary browns and blacks, with orange dancing in the gloom. Faust, what a nightmare, she thought to herself, though she couldn’t remember the details. The voices seemed familiar, but she couldn’t name them. She waited for her vision to adjust, groaning as she fought to roll onto her belly.

Her senses returned, and Twilight felt no cover keeping her warm, no pillow cradling her head; she was splayed out across a cold floor. There was a bruise on her flank and a pounding in her head, and when she went to sit up, her hooves ached and trembled as if she’d just galloped a marathon. Most notable was the stench that seemed to be coming from her lips; potent and sickly sweet, like a poorly mixed punch, yet her throat was dry. It took her several minutes to push herself onto her rump and look about, dizzy beyond reason.

The walls were grey cobblestone, the orange light coming from a torch. The room was small, stuffed with dusty furniture; a wardrobe in the corner, a desk sat across from that. Paper lay underneath and around it, torn and ripped apart, and the door to the room was hanging slightly ajar, as if opened in a hurry. A candle on the desk was melted to a stump, the wick black and smoking, the wax spilled across the wood, coating the box of a strange item. Twilight took a breath, then rocked onto her hind hooves and wobbled over to it, sniffing at the object. A tinderbox? she thought, identifying the smell of burned charcloth, so a tinderbox it was, and recently used. Now closer, the desk looked to be an antique to Twilight’s trained eye, but in terrible condition. It bent downwards at the centre with a crack on the underside, and the wardrobe was similarly damaged, doors hanging open with one doorknob missing. The exposed splinters of each were clean.

'This... what in Equestria?' she said aloud. 'Where am I?'

Ask anypony and they would tell you Twilight Sparkle was no drinker, and she knew hangover symptoms well enough without having to experience them. Despite the tremendous migraine, drinking enough to lose her memory would have her feeling way worse. How in Equestria, then, did she end up there? Was she still close to home? What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Did her friends know where she was? Did Spike? She tried shaking herself into sense, holding her temples as her breathing involuntarily sped up. 'Sh-shhh... breathe, Twilight. Just b-breathe.’

She focused; one breath in through the nostrils, then another out through her mouth.

In through the nostrils, out through the mouth.

In, and out.

In...

Out...

After a few moments she opened her eyes. The first thing to do was find the owner of whoever’s home she’d passed out in, then try to make sense of it all, after profusely apologising of course. So, she made for the torch and gripped it with her magic; the spell sent a sharp pain through her horn into her head, the torch wedging in its holster. When she wiggled it free the wall spat the holster out and Twilight jolted backwards, gasping as it hit the floor. 'CLANG’.

‘Another thing to apologise for,’ she sighed.

Twilight hooked a hoof around the door and eased it open. It creaked into the shadows of a long hallway on the other side. She levitated the torch in front of her, which barely lit the chamber. C’mon, she thought when she found herself frozen at the doorway, you’re being a big filly now. Try as she might, she couldn’t reason with her discomfort, but pressed on.

Author's Note

So I sent this draft to a friend and she said I should post it. It's a remarkably short thing, I know, but it really only serves as the prologue of sorts to a larger story.

Mods: I indented the paragraphs in the editor but it doesn't seem to have an effect on the text. Send help.

I wrote the first draft when I was much younger, and have since been to university to study creative writing, so I decided to touch it up and sand off any rough edges. I have several more chapters that need to be looked over and edited, so I leave it up to you, the people, to judge whether or not you want more.

Thank you for reading, as always, and I hope you enjoyed.

The Old Archives

An hour? Fifty minutes? It had to have been forty. Each hallway looked identical to Twilight. She’d been searching for something recognisable. Anything. Most of the windows she’d come across were boarded, and one look at the rest told Twilight they weren’t designed to open. Studying her surroundings to keep herself occupied, she’d at least determined it was dawn or dusk from the ghostly ribbons of sunlight creeping inside.

The walls were considerably old stone, adorned by disheveled heraldry. Debris littered the floor beneath gaps in the ceiling, and she’d come across multiple cross-sections offering barricaded doors, if not sloping rubble. This place looks like it's been hit by an earthquake, she mused. Her head still throbbed. Her hooves still ached. The dusty air irritated her nostrils, but as she went to rub her snout, she smelled something sweet and strong. Something familiar.

She followed the scent down the hall, around the corner, down another hall, then another, the odor getting thicker, until Twilight spotted a speck of colour. The smell was coming from a thin trail of pink puddles, and she began pursuing them further into the gloom.

The trail of liquid eventually turned into a room. Twilight peeked her head through the doorframe. The torchlight danced over more dusty furniture and crates riddled with mold, as well as a hole in the roof. She trotted inside; it would be nearly impossible to reach. Glancing at some crates, though she wasn’t a heavy mare by any stretch of the imagination, she didn’t fancy her chances atop the rotting wood. Her horrid migraine dissuaded her from trying any levitation spells, either.

A large chest sat open in the corner of the room, a torn cobweb at the hinge, and she caught sight of a spider repairing the damage. There was a clammy aroma in the air, too, but she was cold and dry as a bone. Twilight wandered through a door that hung open in the corner, and wooden floorboards creaked beneath her hooves for once.

Metal candelabras hung from the ceiling, and there was a small burner in the corner of the room. More pages were torn up and thrown across the floor. Even in her state, she hoped it hadn’t come from any pricelessly old documents, or any primary sources, Faust forbid. That’s when she noticed a warm light fluttering across the paper. There was a stool standing next to the burner, and on the stool was a candle and an open book, and the candle was lit. Twilight gasped.

‘Hello?’ she called out, ‘is somepony there?’

Something vibrated. Twilight raised a hoof as she looked around the room. It seemed no worse for wear. A rumble now. She backed away from the burner. The items on the shelves started to move. Pillars of dust slipped from the ceiling and candelabras wobbled from side to side. A couple of books fell from their bookcases and crates tumbled off one another. Twilight made for the centre of the room as it began shaking. Her back hoof jolted upwards as a box was thrown from atop a shelf behind her, splintering against the floor. Then the shaking weakened. Then it stopped.

'Sweet Celestia...’ Twilight placed a hoof on her forehead. 'Maybe this place really did get hit by an earthquake.'

How had she been searching this long without seeing anypony? Just how large was this place? The cold nipped through her coat, so she sat down with a huff, taking the fallen box, tossing the pieces in the burner and lighting them.

‘This is hopeless,’ she sighed. ‘I have no clue where I’m going, and that’s if I’m going anywhere... I clearly can’t keep wandering these tunnels. Think... c’mon, Twilight, think.’

Her tail swished excitedly as she did exactly that. This place is huge, she thought, looking about. It must be a castle. Judging by the age of the stone in those hallways... medieval era?

‘Because that narrows it down,’ she said aloud. She glanced at the candle's bronze base, gilded by the fire’s glow.

Alright... the windows indicate I’m not underground, but I’ve seen no beds, chairs or bathrooms anywhere, so this is probably a storage area. The living quarters must be somewhere else. Above me, probably... that’s it.

‘That’s it!’ She sat up with a proud smirk, warmed and determined. ‘Now to find a way to the upper floors...’

Yet more bookshelves were filled with bottles, books and papers in the next room. Some saddlebags leaned against a desk across from the door, on which was another lit candle, and scientific equipment any sorcerer might have recognised.

‘A laboratory of some sort? With contemporary equipment! At least I know somepony still lives here.’The papers and documents sat collecting dust. Some were so old Twilight could barely make out words. She took one that looked semi-intelligible.

‘On hiring guards,’ it read, ‘visiting the nearby townships yielded little results. I decided to look to the cities, Canterlot first, and thankfully the castle didn’t fall apart while I was gone.’

Some sort of diary entry? Twilight wondered as she rubbed her chin with a hoof. She skipped ahead - while she certainly wasn’t comfortable poking about somepony else’s home, their diary might at least tell her where she was.

'She seemed to restrain herself from squabbling as we sat down and spoke over a glass of Manehatten white – fine vintage, perhaps from her own stores of wine.'

The hoof-writing was elegant. Hope I didn’t pass out in some noblepony’s castle... I wonder who he’s talking about?

'She of course mentioned the experiments and made certain to remind me of the reassurances I'd made, which I had to give more of to change the subject.'

Twilight raised an eyebrow and straightened the paper.

'Nevertheless, she was kind enough to give me information regarding a stallion who once served as a commander within her royal guard; a captain by the name of Bronze Valour, with a handful of loyal lieutenants. She even referred me to a tailor, some friend of a friend (I forget the name) who'd help me restore some of my garb. I suspect she wants to see more of me. A change in me at least. My work can’t afford the Canterlot elite poking around.'

She frowned when she found no signature or date, only a large smudge of ink. He wasn't talking about Princess Celestia, was he? She turned, and the torchlight flickered in mahogany swirls, colouring a pile of scrunched up paper on the desk. She unfolded the one closest to her; its writer had stopped halfway through, scribbling out the words. The second closest was scribbled out as well. Then the third. Then the fourth. The fifth, the sixth, until Twilight gave up. 'For Faust's sake,' she groaned, rubbing the side of her head.

The scribble pattern is jarring. Whoever wrote these got frustrated... frantic, in fact. She squinted at the ink. The quill had been dug deep, and the words were clearly penned with great effort. It looked like her own hoof-writing when she was a filly. As she turned away, she stepped on something, and eased the saddlebags aside. Lying below the desk in another pink puddle was a small flask, and one more note. She didn’t need to smell the container to know it was the scent’s source. The note wasn't dated, but it was fully written at least.

'You're likely wondering where you are. It's fading so quickly. I don't have enough time.'

‘Don't be afraid, Twilight.’

Twilight blinked. ‘Is this addressed to me?’

‘I can’t keep going. I HAVE to forget. This did not happen to you without reason, I promise. I hope you can understand.'

She looked down at the puddle. 'An amnesia mixture...’

'The castle you're in is Brennenburg. I don't remember what distance it is from Ponyville but it's north, or north-east. I don't know. It's in the Everfree forest'.

Twilight frowned. That didn't make things any easier.

'The baron is Alexander. Avoid him and avoid his servants. Don't trust him if he finds you, don’t trust him no matter what and don't listen to a single word he says. He’s a monster!'

Alexander of Brennenburg... odd name for an Equestrian baron, she thought. It lingered in her mind as if she’d dreamt it, although she could have sworn she’d never heard it before. Furthermore, it wasn’t lost on her that she’d found a note written by a pony who had, or was in the process of, forgetting everything. She dismissed it as convenience, but then why had the note mentioned her name?

Dread twinged in her stomach; her idle mind had manifested a troubling notion. She took in a shallow breath through her muzzle, glancing down at the bottle, then read on.

'You'll laugh at this, if it’s all gone. I would.'

'Don't say that!’

'There’s a Shadow. It’s been following me, which means it’s going to follow you, it probably is already. I don't know what it is or where it comes from, but it’s a living nightmare and you can’t fight it or outsmart it so just run! It sounds insane but trust me and run! I BEG you!'

A relieved sigh escaped her. Now she was sure the note's author was insane. Shadows follow ponies all the time, she thought to herself, though something was off about how they had written the word. 'Shadow' - capitalised, like a name.

'There's only one pony who can help you; an earth pony with a caramel coat and a brown mane. His name is Savvy Venture.’

‘Savvy Venture. Savvy... why do I recognise that?’ she said, and the relief was gone. ‘Th-That’s enough,’ but she couldn’t bring herself to put the note down. She couldn’t resist now.

‘You have to find him. When you do, look after him. Find him and get yourself home.’

‘Your former self, Twilight Sparkle.'

Now she put down the note.

It couldn’t be true, of course. It was absurd... but then, the hoof-writing did look like hers.

Your former self... no, she thought. ‘No, it can’t be... I-I hate writing by hoof! I only write by hoof when-’

When she had migraines.

The sickness in her stomach chased her focus away. That scent she’d been following, the one she found on her lips... she dropped the torch and swiped everything from the desk, yanking every beaker, vial and burner toward herself. One of the beakers was still wet, and it carried the same scent. Twilight covered her snout, but she could still smell it. No matter where she turned the fumes of the amnesia mixture filled her nostrils. She snatched the paper back and looked for something out of place, something falsifiable.

But Twilight had written the note.

Twilight had written the note and addressed it to herself.

Twilight had written the note and addressed it to herself before wiping her own memory.

Panic clenched her chest and sent a shrill gasp down her throat. ‘N-No,’ she whimpered, losing control of her breathing, ‘no no no no no no no!’ She covered her eyes and sucked in and out and in and out before trembling to hold in a breath. She released it slowly, shuddering as she took air through her nose - in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like before. 'Y-You're-’ she gulped, ‘you’re f-fine, Twilight. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re gonna be fine.’

Twilight didn’t keep track of how long she sat there; it was as if there was nothing in the world besides that note. Was this some bizarre experiment?... No, she’d never do this to herself, nor agree to it were it somepony else’s idea. ‘A-Alright,’ she said once she’d regained control, ‘what do you know, Twilight? Just f-focus on what you know.’ Still being lost was the obvious place to start, but Twilight brought her previous plan to the forefront of her mind – she needed to get to the upper floors. There she’d be more likely to bump into somepony. More importantly she could find the entrance. The note had mentioned the Everfree, but she’d take her chances if home was a canter’s distance from the castle.

With things thought through, she rolled gently onto all-fours, taking a moment to regain her composure. Her horn was in anguish when she raised the torch, so she slipped on the saddlebags in case she came across anything useful. The bookshelf left of the desk was side-on to the wall, and when Twilight went behind it, she found a square opening that led to an ornate door, and a simple wooden lever next to that. She trotted over to it and smelled the clammy odor from before. Somepony had gone through there.

Of what she’d read, Twilight stuffed what seemed most useful to her in one saddlebag and returned to the opening but, for some reason, she turned back to the note sitting on the desk. She couldn’t fathom what must have happened for her to write those things; after all, there was no use denying she had written them. That said, the plan hadn’t changed, and she was certainly content to ignore it, but when she went to leave the note, she found herself stopping. What was this ‘Shadow’ she’d complained about? What had the baron done to anger her? To make her so scared of him? Who was this ‘Savvy Venture’ and why did Twilight recognise his name?

Twilight had always made a point of being, as she put it, ‘reliably rational’ no matter what, and she was good at it too. Thus, the pony she trusted most in the world happened to be herself (as well as Spike, the Princess, Applejack – her friends were a close, collective second.) Maybe that’s why she couldn’t abandon the note... perhaps it was worth holding onto, at the very least. She picked it up. I’ll think about all that when I’m home, she thought.

Author's Note

A much bigger chapter for you!

Apologies if the sudden increase in word count threw some people off; this chapter was initially way the Hell longer, and after plenty of rewrites and proofreading I did away with a lot of what was essentially Twilight faffing about, and me describing the area from the game - nostalgia is a drug and I'm only human. It is again up to you, the people, whether or not I should post more of this.

Also, if it's not clear, the text in italics (like this) is what Twilight's thinking, and any italicised text in speech marks ('like this') is whatever she's reading. Amnesia: The Dark Descent has a lot of notes that explain the backstory to the player, and I needed a way to distinguish their content from Twilight's inner monologue. It's a little clunky, so I hope it wasn't too confusing.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.

The Archives Themselves

Twilight's hoofsteps reverberated around what sounded like a much bigger room ahead, and she sped up. ‘Finally out of those tunnels,’ she sighed.

Lonely windows sat on tall walls, illuminating a large hall with frigid complexion. Dust coated more heraldry that Twilight didn’t recognise, though a collapsed pillar and staircase didn't surprise her. A giant symbol was the hall’s stone centre, yet again unknown to her, cluttered with bricks from the ceiling above. She trotted inside and spotted a tall archway to her left, and a hallway beyond that with a towering wooden door at the end. That has to be the entrance, she thought.

She made for the door and looked around; Twilight couldn’t help searching for details that would date the architecture, if only to keep something simple on her mind. There were bookcases taller than most of the trees in Sweet Apple Acres, and similarly sized windows across from them. No doubt the castle had seen renovations, but she’d come across very few details she recognised from her textbooks. The door’s design was the strangest thing, but Twilight slowed as she approached, realising that whatever she was looking at wasn't by design at all.

She scowled, wafting a putrid stench from her snout; a stench like rot that burned her nostrils, and carried the smell of some undiscernible substance or chemical. The door was spattered in something organic. It was glistening, crimson and warm to the touch – for Twilight of course touched it, her curiosity getting the better of her - yet it felt bone-dry. It was tough as leather when she tried to heave it out of the way but, despite not budging, it slowly and perceptively writhed under her hoof. When Twilight went to grasp it with a spell, an immense pain shot through her hooves, her shoulders, her chest, almost her whole body. ‘O-Ow-w-ww!’ she yelped as she stumbled onto her rump, lifting her hooves, but whatever had happened to them hadn’t left a mark. ‘What in Equestria?!'

Some sort of mold? the unicorn thought, taking a moment to catch her breath. It felt as though she’d been struck by a crop cart! No, what mold looks like that? Let alone fights back?! She stood up and picked up the torch, wondering if she could burn it, but the flame had weakened since she found it, and she didn’t fancy losing its light. Any spells stronger than her would pound her head like a drum, too. She didn’t like to anthropomorphise, but whatever was covering the door seemed keen to keep her inside. ‘What now,’ she sighed. ‘There has to be another way into a castle this size... which means there’s probably some archives, too. Maybe I can find a map or some sort of floor plan.’

With a huff, she trotted back the way she came.

Questions chased away her focus. How easy it would be to identify whatever was covering the door if she were home. A jaunt through the library and she’d have her answer. Ponyville came to mind after that, along with how worried everypony must have been about her, how long it might have been since she saw them, and them her. The thought reminded her, and she looked over her shoulder at one of her saddlebags. The note she’d written hadn’t mentioned her friends.

‘N-No, Twilight,’ she said, ‘think about that when you’re out of here... but then, where would I start?'

Did she talk to anypony about what happened? Had she written about it in her diary, maybe? Again nagged the tiresome, pressing question of why she’d drank that infernal mixture. If things were truly as bad as they must have been for her to put those alarming things in writing, for her to wipe her memory, perhaps it was just a matter of time before her friends came looking for her, before Spike did – that thought Twilight decided to avoid.

Some of the doorways in the Entrance Hall had writing above them, and Twilight clambered over some rubble to read 'Cella Vinaria'.

‘Olde Ponish... "wine cellar”,’ she deciphered, climbing a nearby staircase and coming across a door with 'Tabularium' engraved above it. ‘Archives!’ she chirped, smiling victoriously – a smile that came from that part of her that bubbled up with a solved puzzle, or when the mysteries in her detective books were unraveled. One hoof on the door and it creaked into the hallway behind it which, despite being the best decorated Twilight had seen the castle, was clearly in disrepair; faded paint, aged wood and plaster, and a door torn clean off its hinges. Something in the dust beside it caught her eye, and Twilight squinted at a set of hoofprints.

They were large, a stallion's it seemed, and their shapes were clear as day, so the prints were fresh. Is somepony in here with me? Maybe it’s whoever was in those tunnels. Her note had mentioned ‘servants’, but these prints were odd. They were deep, like the pony in question put more weight than necessary on his hoof, and the stride pattern was bizarre, with each step oddly close to the last. The hoofprints were all the same size, too, even though the rear hooves were usually larger.

She pried her eyes from the prints and pressed on, translating signs that hung outside the doors on either wall. ‘”Rare Books”, “Catalogues”...’ At one point she felt a draft, which she followed to a large corridor with a pair of arched windows, and a hole in its roof with water trickling inside. Twilight trotted over to the windows, sighing when she found a sheer drop beneath both, and shook her head. Dusk was falling, so, she decided to sit down and watch.

Princess Celestia’s sun blazed below the horizon, while Princess Luna’s moon loomed like a white galley sailing cloudy seas. Rain fell, and pines twisted in a breeze that gently rattled the window. Twilight thought of a hill in Ponyville where she’d often had picnics at sunset; muffins with Pinkie, sourdough bread and apple tarts with Applejack and, though she’d never tell anypony, her favourites were with Fluttershy. The pegasus would often close her eyes, perhaps embracing the nature around her. A few picnics ago Twilight had begun trying to do the same, focusing on birds whistling, or rustling trees, the breeze in her mane, the sun warming her coat. Just the two of them, relaxed, sitting in comfortable silence with one another. Twilight smiled sadly.

The corridor ended with a wall of debris that had collapsed through a doorway. She paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow at something. I should... go back and search more thoroughly. Can’t have come here for nothing.

Her ears shot upwards. ‘Hello?’ she called out, holding out her torch. She’d heard something ahead, low and guttural, followed by some fading hoofsteps, then a loud thud. 'Hey!’ she yelled, cantering towards the sounds, ‘hey, wait!’ Looking down she spotted more prints, now damp with sweat, but ended up back where she came from with nopony around. 'Come back, please! I-I'm lost! I don’t know how I got here and I need help! Please!’

Twilight’s ears drooped, having heard no response. She hoped she wasn’t somewhere the common tongue wasn’t spoken. While the baron’s letter was written in it, perhaps the same couldn’t be said of his servants. Even so, there’s no way they didn’t hear her shouting. Why had they just wandered off? Maybe... something else made the sound? she thought, her eyes drifting to the nearest room. There was little else but furniture and shelves of antique vases and artefacts inside, nothing that would have caused such a sound. Whoever had gotten her attention must have shifted it to escape her, though everything seemed exactly how it was on her way in. Hopefully she wasn’t hearing things, but she swore she’d heard something behind that rubble, too...

Her eyes fell on the damaged door, covered in dents and scratches. It wasn't until Twilight held her torch closer that she discovered three long, curved marks carved into the wood. She frowned; if an animal capable of leaving such marks had gotten into the castle, perhaps it truly was abandoned. The marks continued across the wall, however, tearing toward the entrance in a manner a tad tidy for most animals, and she knew of no local beast whose call resembled the odd noise she’d just heard. She swallowed, carefully stepping around the door and entering the room, where she finally spotted a map laid out across a desk.

Twilight hastened to it, shoving aside a nearby chair and blowing dust from the paper. Somehow the castle looked larger than she imagined, but there were indeed other halls that looked large enough to serve as entrance chambers. That said, there was a wider map in the corner where she could see the Everfree forest, but no Ponyville. ‘Don’t tell me you’re outdated!' she yelled, for an outdated map meant certain areas might have been removed. Judging by that shaking earlier, they may have collapsed. At least I’m not far from home, she thought.

The room was filled with stacks of paper and scrolled documents, and a note beside the map. The assorted parchments varied enough in age for Twilight to gather that the Archives had been used for centuries. She took some larger scrolls and opened them, finding more maps of the castle, of Equestria, of the local area and nearby regions. Her eyes glazed over the note on the desk initially, but then felt an odd familiarity toward the words. She raised an eyebrow, picking it up.

'10th of May.

Dear Princess Celestia,

As per your last letter, preparations are going just fine, if somewhat tiring. I took your advice and decided not to do them alone this year, but Pinkie seems determined to make this “the best birthday he’s ever had!”.'

Twilight perked up. ‘Did I write this too?'

'Truthfully, I'd be at a loss without her, and I’m certain Spike will enjoy what she has planned. I'd like to mention something else, though.

I overhead some talk in the market today and yesterday – Lily Valley went missing at the weekend and still hasn’t come back. Now I’ve seen a missing poster of Starsong, too. Everypony knows everypony here, and I can’t imagine either of them would disappear without telling anypony where they’re going.’

Ponyville’s lush meadows were prime real estate for florists like Lily Valley, and Starsong was holding down a stable job at the weather factory last they talked. Twilight frowned, hoping the pair weren’t in any danger. Lily was kind and gentle, and while Starsong had a temper she could be remarkably sweet.

‘It’s starting to bother ponies, Spike especially. I appreciate I’ve been paranoid about things in the past but maybe you could send some royal guards? Have them search the Everfree? Things like this don’t happen in Ponyville, and we don’t have a village watch. I'll be on the lookout for anything strange. I just hope all this campfire ghost-story stuff doesn't get to him.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle'

Twilight grinned. The note was written by her. 'If this is here, maybe there’s more! Maybe I can piece together what-’

Something growled.

She spun around, eyes wide, and backed into the wall. Hoofsteps now, loud and heavy. Twilight dropped the torch with a gasp and it clattered against the floorboards. Another growl came from outside, lower-pitched and accusatory. Her eyes darted about and she made for the nearest shelves, shuffling underneath them. The wood squeaked and rattled. A hoof came into view, muscular and pale, then a second, but those two only. Twilight held her breath, her back pressing against the bottom shelf. The stranger waddled into the room and approached her torch, an awful rubbing sound accompanying each step. He stood over it and kicked at it, his breaths phlegmy and laboured. Droplets of sweat rolled off her face and onto the floor with tiny splats. Twilight steadied her hooves and covered her snout.

A minute or so passed before the stranger turned and waddled from the room, garbling something Twilight couldn’t understand. She waited for the hoofsteps to fade, waited to hear the doors to the Archives open and close. She waited longer after that, staring at where the stallion had stood. When she was convinced she was alone, she took some deep breaths and started inching her way out from under the shelves, which shifted about above her until she heard a wooden cracking sound and looked up.

THUMP.

The pain wiped her senses. Her knees buckled, her world turned on its side, and she felt the cold and dust against her cheek as darkness ate away her vision.

She scampered to the corner. She couldn’t escape the smell. The soldiers' coughed, hacked, and the sight of wine, phlegm and whatever else they’d vomited churned her stomach. The lieutenant bashed on the door with his hooves, his eyes glistening with tears as she covered her own.

The captain wasn’t doing anything and most of his stallions lay struggling about him; the ground was red with them. What could she do but cry? This couldn’t be the end! Was this the end?! What in Faust’s name would everypony think if she never came home?! What about Sweetie Belle? She’d never forgive her. Perhaps she’d even come looking! She scrunched her muzzle into her hooves.

A retch came from the lieutenant and took his voice, blood sloshed through his teeth. She gagged. He exploded against the door, screaming breathless screams, eyes wide with desperate lunacy, pounding and pounding until she heard his bones cracking. When the lock finally broke something audibly burst and gurgled up his throat, but she ignored her churning stomach. The door was open!

She ran away - of course she ran - squealing as the lieutenant grabbed her hoof and she kicked him away, leaving him clawing at his throat with mangled hooves. She looked over her shoulder and her tears blurred the captain. He didn’t move. He didn’t even look.

Author's Note

A lot happening in this chapter so apologies if it feels like it goes too fast. That said, there was a lot of polishing to do and a lot of chaff that didn't make the final cut, so I'm fairly happy with how this chapter turned out. I hope you feel the same, and let me know if more should come. Thanks for reading!