Dr Whooves MONSTER

Chapter 4

Taking in the sight, I stood over what was left of Stygian. Thinking back, I really wished I could have been nicer to the guy.

After all, there was a time long ago when we both attended that church, and despite being older than the guy, I remember getting along just fine in my childhood. That all changed, however, after the tragic loss of my mother. I blamed Star Swirl, the healer, for not doing more, and Stygian thought I was crazy. I was an earth pony, while he, a unicorn, had much more of a role in our society than I ever could have. Despite my wanting to heal the sick and the wounded, I had no magic to achieve such greatness. Unlike him. Truth be told, I was jealous of the colt, and after many years, as I stepped away from the church, he kept steadfast in his faith, becoming the second head and protonja of Star Swirl. Perhaps one day, when the old pony retired, Stygian would have been the lead of the church.

I said "retired" because the likelihood of that old geezer dying was as slim as me coming back from the dead. But as I sat there, staring at the remains, I fell on death's ear, with no words out of my mouth. What could I say? Sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry he didn’t achieve his greatness as expected of him? Sorry he died? Sorry this happened? Or sorry I was ever foolishly rude to him in the first place? No, instead I could only stare as they finished examining the body in deathly cold silence.

“Well, the body is far too mangled to conclusively identify him.” Star Swirl’s words broke the silence. Not a word he said was untrue. The pony’s body was so mangled that its face was unrecognizable. The left side was stripped right down to the bone. All that was left was the torso and a few flaps of flesh that held on to dear life on the rib cage. One colored long, the other missing—and a heart. The stomach and lower intestine, including everything else, were all stripped away, along with its arms and lower body.

I couldn’t help but want to vomit at the sight of it. Yet despite my upset stomach at the gruesome state, my mind was set on who it was.

“And where exactly did you say the pendant was found?” Star Swirl asked the colt who found the body.

“About three feet away from the head, sir. It has to be him, it has to be—”

“Yes, I do concur. It is indeed.” He said the last part in a tuned breath. “Well, see these marks here?” He pointed at the rib cage. “Those are claw marks that I know only one beast could make. We must have a manticore who has traveled too far, too close to the edge of the forest. I will report the hunters to go after it.” He rose his muzzle in the air. “Now prepare the body,” his gaze lowered to the remains. “Or what’s left of it, I suppose,” he murmured under his breath, before raising his vocal cords once more. “For a proper burial.” And with that, he turned around and walked away.

I watched as he walked up the steps of the church, stunned. A part of me was furious. A part of me wanted to yell how—that’s it. I mean, after all, this was some good-for-nothing on the street. This was Stygian. Your student, I wanted to call out. How dare he turn his back to the death of his closest prodigy as if he were nothing at all, I wanted to say. But who was I to talk? I, who treated him like a pest at my side when in reality what he truly was, was my rival.

Yes, it was him achieving this title and his lessons from Star Swirl—him achieving the so-called greatness of magic and ascending to his role as top healer of the magical arts—that made me only deepen my studies in the art of science. I wanted so desperately to prove to not only the world but to him that I, an earth pony, could heal the sick just as good, if not better, than the old ways ever could. And when I had, I planned to run it in his face, as an arch rival would, along with both a drink for him.

Now look. Now what was left of that so-called dream? What could I do now that he… was gone? Yes, even so, the fact that I had not cured the terrifying illness that took my mother’s life yet. I couldn’t help but feel drained at the thought of achieving such a goal and having him by my side to congratulate me on my work.

A splashing sound, even though it was quite quiet, pulled me out of my trance. I looked down to see next to the body a small damp spot that hit the ground. With a shake of the head, I soon realized where the drop came from. My eyes were watery, and I soon sniffled as it finally sank in. I would never see that young lad’s face again. And I could do nothing but walk away, and so ajar as Star Swirl did, I proved to be no better. As I sniffled, I walked as if I had aged sixty years that day. I never said a word to any pony on the street after that. I just went back home, to the office, drained of all life itself, it felt like.

Laying in my bed the rest of the day, it was Mr. Apple who knocked on my door that evening. With little to no energy in my body, I slowly crept out of bed and over to see what he wanted. There, standing in the doorway, nearly at ten o'clock, was Bright Mac with a shotgun I’m sure.

“Good evening, Dr. Hooves. I wanted to be the one to give you the good news. That manticore put up a tough fight, but he stepped aside for me to see.” “It won’t be nothing to any pony any more,” he sighed as I gazed upon the corpse of the beast.

But as I did, a strange sensation came over me, one I couldn’t explain why. Part of me should have been thrilled that the beast that took my friend got what it deserved. Part of me wanted to cheer, to laugh, to lick its corpse and dance around its grave. Yet for some reason, as I sat there staring at all it was to me, it was another body. Another death. After all, it was an animal. It merely only kills for food. I knew taking it out was right for safety reasons, but as I stumbled towards it to get a better look, I felt no rage towards it at all. But sadness, and pity, for the creature’s life. After all, revenge—this creature’s death—did nothing to bring Stygian back. Instead, I merely whispered to Bright Mac, “Thank you for the update,” before clearing my throat and turning back to him. “How is your wife?” I asked, trying to sound stronger than I was at the moment.

“Dr. Hooves, are you alright? You look paler than my wife. Perhaps we should get you back to bed.” He insisted, running over to me and picking me up as if I were a filly.

The experience was quite something. He was very strong and did so easily. A part of me could see why his wife fell in love with him. Hell, I nearly fell in love right there. Despite his brute strength, he gently laid me in bed and pulled up the covers.

“You being sick is the worst thing possible, sir. My wife needs you in full health, for if you’re not…” He chuckled. “How can you heal her of her illness?”

“Right,” I rolled my eyes and settled my head into my pillow. He had full confidence in my ability. Why, I did. It’s known. Could it have been that I was his last hope? His wife’s last hope to live? Was that why he had full faith in me? Because he had nowhere else to go?

“Why, I’m sure science and magic one day will be seen as partners and you’ll be able to heal anyone,” he happily noted as he left.

“Science and magic, sure,” I grumbled before snuggling under the covers until I was comfortable to fall asleep. “Science and magic,” I continued to mumble, rolling over to my side. “Ha, what a silly…” My eyes shot wide as I suddenly remembered the old scriptures. There, lying on the floor across from me, they sat in my bag. With a quick notion, I leaped for them, spilling some chocolate in the process. I cared not for it at the moment. Quickly, I sprang the pages landing on the text about how magic worked and glided my hoof over it, spreading it once more.

“A battery,” I thought to myself. Batteries that can be charged and discharged. Quickly, I tossed aside the book and ran through the bag again. This time pulling out a book on electricity in the body. I flipped through it, taking in what I could.

“The body is filled with cells that, when electricity strikes through them, can cause the body to move. Enough energy can be used to restart a heart before the brain dies.” Yes, but if you were able to bring back the brain, bring it to life along with the heart, surely it would live.” I blanked in awe before tossing it aside and pulling out more books on the anatomy of a pony. Finding a picture of the layout inside the body, an idea began to swell in my mind. An idea that at the time I had no fear of and later would wish I did.

“That’s it,” the crazed man chuckled. Yes, I was no longer in the right mind. This wasn’t me—want my rational thinking. All I wanted to do was see him. To talk to him. To bring Stygian back… back… from… the dead.

That night I wasted no time running out of my home and breaking into the church. I quickly searched through every library book I could find on the subject but came up empty-handed. I soon broke into the old pony's office, finding Star Swirl’s private collection of materials. There were at least a hundred more books, all about magic spells and what they did, but nothing even came close to what I was searching for.

As I searched, I came to a stop when I stumbled onto the old pony's stack of mare paintings, some far more revealing than I should have seen. Even as a doctor, I truly felt such things were better left for a lover to view than this. With a blush on my face, I snapped that book shut, now terrified to go through the rest. Besides, it seemed what I was going to do was indeed completely new. There wasn’t one subject that neither science nor magic could ever accomplish. But it would take both science and magic to achieve it.

Getting to my feet, I stumbled out of the room and headed down the hall, passing the snoring old pony in his sleeping chambers on my left. Turning to the right, I saw the sign that read “Stygian,” marking his old bedroom. With a sudden inhale, I decided to look inside on a whim, if nothing else.

When I opened the door, it was as if he had never died. It was far too soon for any real change to occur. I felt his presence in the room through the lingering smell of magic smoke, as he often smelled like magic smoke. But it was strangely the coldest room in the entire church. Even the morgue didn’t feel as cold as it did in here. It was as if death itself stood in the very room, observing the leftovers of the boy’s life. A simple bed in the corner, a nightstand, a bookshelf, a wardrobe, and a small desk sat inside. The books were mostly his own studies, nothing out of the blue. And there on the desk sat his pendant, clearly left there by Star Swirl. It was the only shiny thing in the entire cold, dark room.

Quickly rushing over to it, I picked it up and held it in my hands, running my fingers over the back where his name was inscribed. I had to bring him back. I just had to. “There’s got to be a way,” I whispered, only for the strap of the pendant to snap again. I forgot that it was broken. The pendant fell down off the table and rolled under the bed, making a little cling as it did. Kneeling down, I quickly went after it, hoping to stop the noise before it woke anybody up.

But as I grabbed hold of it, I could see in the shadows under the bed the faint outline of another object. There was nothing else under the bed, nothing except this one rather large object. My curiosity peaked, so I crawled further under the bed to grab it. Pulling it out, to my surprise, it was extremely heavy. It might have been the heaviest thing I had ever felt. I couldn’t imagine skinny little Stygian with such an object. Then I remembered he was a unicorn and would most likely just use his magic to levitate it.

Darn lucky unicorns, I thought to myself as I struggled to pull it up. Once I was able to get it out into the dim light of the room, I saw that it was, in fact, a book. But not just any book. Unlike all the other books I had seen in the church, even in Star Swirl’s office, this book was clearly the oldest. It was in rough shape, too. The leather was badly cracked and charred in some places. The scriptures etched into its cover were unreadable, as if it were from an ancient language even before Ponyish. I could make out a few letters, like a “C” and a “D,” but either because it was in such rough shape, or because it was in another language, the words made no sense, and I couldn’t figure out the title of the book. Even as I touched it, despite its heavy nature, some of it seemed to crumble with the slightest pressure of my hoof.

Even so, as gently as I could, I opened it to find hundreds of pages that were either ruined due to water damage, burned judging by the ash, or so sloppily written that even if I could read the language, I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea of what any of it said.

As I went through it further, however, some of the scriptures came and went. It was as if I was close to making out a few words, but nothing was ever concrete. The book had many hoof-painted illustrations of what I could only assume were representations of what the words were talking about. One such illustration depicted a pony's hoof on fire. Another showed a pony raising his hoof while vines sprouted from the ground. Another illustration depicted a pony creating what I could only describe as a doorway of some sort. Was it possible that this strange book was a spellbook?

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m in a magical church; all books are either historical or spellbooks. I flipped through more of it, revealing some of the craziest images I had ever seen. Like a pony controlling the sun and moon. A pony turning a bright day to a snowy fields night. Another page showcased a pony transforming another pony into a monstrous form, a giant. Another showed it controlling other ponies with one look into its eyes. What was this book of horrors? Somehow, I didn’t want to know. At the same time, I couldn’t help but flip through it. As I did, some of it did indeed begin to crumble, but even so, I was so fascinated by it.

I had seen unicorns perform magic. Some would levitate objects, some would pour liquid as if pulling it out of the air, and some could even teleport from one place to another. Some could heal wounds and others could produce flames from their horns. But I had never once seen anypony be able to do what this book inscribed. A pony being able to lift a mountain with ease. A pony being able to turn an object into another.

The capabilities were endless and unusual. Then I flipped to what must have been the middle of the book, and my jaw dropped. There, in the illustration, was what I was searching for: a pony drawing magic out of another. If this spell was done in reverse, perhaps instead of drawing magic, I could give it to something. It must be just enough… just enough! To repower the mind. If I did it, combined with the circuit of energy into the body, certainly, I would have created it. I could bring him back to life.

But how could I get enough energy to restart his heart? I asked myself, only for the answer to literally fall from the sky. A flash of lightning and the thunder of the clouds outside announced a storm coming. “Lightning,” I whispered to myself. I flipped to another page, finding a spell to call upon the weather.

It was right here. It was all I needed. I just needed a place to set up, a place to perform the necessary rituals. And so I easily found it, for in all directions of the book lay a castle in the silhouette.

“The Dark Forest, the Everfree Forest, it has ruins of such a place, yes. This book must be from there,” the crazed side of me smiled. “Yes,” he said, not I—not my rational mind anyway—laughed in a crazed fashion at first, only to stifle my own ludicrous thoughts. I couldn’t wake anyone up; surely they would have tried to stop me.

Now all I needed was the body.