Twilight Sparkle: Night Shift

by JawJoe

Rating: teen
Tags: Trixie, Mystery, Octavia, Adventure, DJ P0N-3, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 121207

Twilight Sparkle: librarian by day, monster hunter by night, and irredeemable cynic all throughout. Vampires? Simple. Zombies? Easy. Pretending not to see them every night? Now that is a challenge...

You might think that Equestrian nights are but serene exhibitions of Luna's work on the sky. You may believe that you can just lay out on the grass and admire the beautiful stars as a warm evening breeze caresses your mane. And you would be wrong.

Equestria is a magical place, and where there is magic, there is chaos. Dead rising from their graves, inanimate objects coming to life, strange apparitions making your foal cry in her room... sounds familiar? No? Then I'm doing my job right.

I'm Twilight Sparkle, and I work the Night Shift.

This follows canon up to the end of season 2.
Check out the Fanart Repository for lots of awesome Night Shift art!

Featured on Equestria Daily.
Winner of Stories Back from the Read 2013.
One hundred percent approved by Twilight's Library!
Special thanks to Nonagon and Wise Cracker.

Published 2012-10-23 02:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-04-01 16:09:59 UTC

Rarity's Home for Unspeakable Horrors, part 1

Chapter 2:
Rarity's Home for Unspeakable Horrors, part 1

She let loose a tired moan as she forced her eyelids open. “What is it, dear?” she whispered. Her cords were still stiff, her voice a quiet monotone, yet hearing her comforting words still had a soothing effect on me.

“Could I sleep with you tonight?” I asked sheepishly.

Their bed creaked as Dad turned and lifted his head as much as he could, shaking it slightly to clear it of the remnants of his interrupted dreams. Even in the darkness, I could see his sleepy eyes peeking down at me from behind Mum, showing no anger but hinting at disappointment. At that point, I didn't care.

“I've told you, Twily,” he said. “Nightmares are not real. They're just images in your head. They can't hurt you.”

“Of course you can.” Mum nodded with an exhausted smile in response to my proposal, completely ignoring my father's banter. “Hop up.”

And hop up I did, once again finding the perfect little place in between, like a bookmark at the best chapter. There, between the two loving giants, I felt safe. Pulling their blanket up, I was all but ready to let my dreams engulf me again, confident that this impenetrable fortress would protect me from whatever evil images that may lurk in my head.

“At your age,” my father grumbled quietly, “you really shouldn't—”

“Let her be,” Mum interrupted him. “Just this once more.”

I could hear Dad let out a lengthy sigh. Soon afterwards, a soft thud signalled his hazy head dropping back onto the pillow. “Sleep well, Twily,” he whispered.

“Sleep well, Twily.” I wish I could, Daddy, I do. But you're not here to protect me at night anymore, are you?

I took another glance at our last family photo. The dancing light of the three candles standing by the picture illuminated our smiles. Only a few months before the tragedy, mother, father, Shining Armour and I were secure in our ignorance of what was to come. It would have been easy to think, that night, that the purple mare looking back at me from within the frame was somepony else. Yet I knew all too well that it was not the case. Their departure didn't so much change us as it had helped us realise who we truly were, who we wanted to be. At least that's what I liked to think.

I closed my eyes for a moment, placing the tip of my hoof onto the picture. After a brief pause, I looked my family in the eye again.

Shining, you've been a beacon of light in the darkest times of Canterlot. And Twilight, you're not afraid of the dark anymore. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Dad would be proud.

I turned away from the photo, looking out into the moonlit night instead. Behind me, a fourth candlestick floated up gently, and with a blink of my eyes, a tiny spark set its wick aflame. It then took its place on the desk at my side, joining its shorter counterparts.

From my upstairs room in the Ponyville library, I could see the dark silhouette of Canterlot's spires ornamenting the barren mountainside.

Four years to the night, Shining Armor. I hope you're coping better than I am.

My eyes shut. My horn prickled. Around me, a barrier of blurred multicolour whirled, keeping Spike at a respectable distance. The gentle whipping of the many pages twirling was music to my ears. I took a deep breath.

My eyes burst open, and the whirlwind of books came to a stop in an instant, each one suspended motionlessly mid-air in a perfect circle. Less than a step's distance before my nose, the exact book I was looking for floated. I couldn't help but make a satisfied smile. Admittedly, I was having a little more fun with this than I should have. Spike's enthusiastic clapping also did little to hinder my climbing self-esteem.

“That was amazing,” he said.

“Oh, it's nothing,” I said. “With all the practice I have, it's natural I'd get it right.”

“What book did you need this time, again?” he asked.

I took my book of choice up into my hooves, blowing off what little dust still remained on its cover. All the other books around me began a new flight around the room, dodging one another as they floated back onto their shelves.

“Rarity asked me to bring this to her,” I said, turning the old book towards my draconic assistant. The washed-out deep-blue of its cover was complimented by the equally faded—yet still marvellous—golden lettering of its title: “Standing Upright: The Curious Fashion of the Late Classical Era.”

Spike blinked at the title. “What's this even about?”

“Exactly what it says,” I said, opening the book for myself. I flicked through its yellowish pages, skimming through the many illustrations and descriptions of unusual dresses. “I've never read this myself, but with somepony who knows more about the subject than I do, I bet it's going to be a fascinating read.”

“Spending an entire morning researching old fashion from a dusty old book. Only you would find that fun.” He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin, pondering. “Although, you are going to be with Rarity....”

“It's been a long time since I've done anything like this.” On cue, the innocent brown saddlebag that I use for my daytime activities hopped over to me from the corner of the room. “I'm just excited that I finally get to spend a little time with a friend, doing something I like.” I sighed involuntarily just thinking of it, placing Standing Upright into the bag. “You know how busy I've been with... studying.”

“Tell me about it. With all the nights you've spent locked in your room with a bunch of books, I'm surprised you haven't gone through this one yet. Twice.”

“A-ha, well,” I chortled nervously, “I guess fashion just never interested me as much as other things do. High time to remedy that, right?” With that, I began my escape with a leisurely stroll towards the door.

“Whatever you say, Twilight.” Spike rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Have fun with Rarity. I'll stay here and keep watch over the library.”

“Jealous, are we?” I gave him a cheeky grin before stepping outside.

“What?” he asked in badly feigned surprise. “It's not like that, I just... just go,” I heard him grunt as the door closed behind me.

I skipped down merrily along the roads leading to Rarity's Carousel Boutique. I was enraptured by the thought of an ordinary, quiet day; one with no vampires, no ghosts and no demons. Just a friend, a book, and I, reading and thinking together.

But the world has made it a habit to playing cruel pranks on me; a fact of which I was immediately reminded the moment Rarity opened her door.

She stood before me, beckoning me inside with her gaze. Yet behind the façade of inviting looks and reassuring smiles I could see a crumbling mare. The carefully brushed fur on her face could not completely hide the growing bags under her eyes. Her fetlocks were several days overdue on their trimming. Her mane, expertly styled on any other day, couldn't keep a few stray hairs from poking out where they shouldn't have.

Rarity would never have let herself be caught dead like this.

Yet more worrying than her uncanny uncaring for her looks was one thing I couldn't attribute to a simple bad hair day. In the corner of her eyes, an ever-faint tinge of yellow festered. What could have happened to Rarity? I wondered. Playing around with books could wait. I had to find an answer to this question.

“Aren't you going to come in?” she asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

I snapped out of my sudden analytic episode. “Oh, of course,” I said, stepping inside.

“The book is in the bag, I take it?” she asked, her voice as soft as ever. “Oh, do have a seat.” She pointed towards a small table to my left.

“Why, yes.” I nodded. “The library's only copy of Standing Upright.” I sat down and put my saddlebag on the ground. “It's the one you needed, right?” I posed the question nervously.

“Well, you tell me, Twilight. Is it?” She smiled playfully. “Do excuse me for a moment, dear. It seems I've forgotten to bring out the tea. Let me just remedy that, won't be long.” With that, she turned around and set out for the kitchen.

Her attitude was eerily theatrical. Such a warm welcome! I couldn't tell whether it was really an act, or just Rarity being herself. She either didn't realise the condition she was in, or she hoped that I wouldn't. Or, perhaps, she simply didn't care, in which case, something was definitely wrong.

Her leaving gave me an opportunity to look around. The main room of the shop was wide and brightly lit; the light rushing in from the window just above the table before me played a beautiful symphony of colour with the dark-violet of the walls and the light-pinks of the many curtains inside. There was a dressing room, and displays for various types of clothes. On the surface, at least, everything seemed to be in order at the Carousel Boutique.

At the opposite end of the room, mannequins stood in the air in a very deliberate formation, hoisted onto thin metal poles that lifted them off the ground. I always found it nothing short of amazing, the way Rarity treated the featureless puppets. Often times we would catch her lost in her work, dressing a mannequin, humming or singing as she applied the necessary stitches and fixes to whatever dress she had put on them. Thread by thread, stitching it together....

Yet the mannequins' purpose was much more than to be simple playthings to a bored fashionista. They were always set up to show off Rarity's latest work to anypony who might walk in. At the centre of the current arrangement was the odd one out, elevated above the others and half-dressed with what appeared to be several hoops running down from its waist area to its hind hooves, forming something of a cone around its lower body. Even disregarding the unusual appearance of the thing, I couldn't imagine how a pony was supposed to even walk in such a getup. Lucky that the poor thing wearing it couldn't voice its objections to bearing the odd piece.

Rarity soon returned, bringing in her mouth a silvery plate and a fancy teapot. By her side, two teacups and their matching saucers floated in an envelope of flickering blueish light. She sat down across the table and placed her delivery between the two of us. She levitated a cup and saucer over to my side of the table. They hit the expensive wood with a quiet clack. I felt it best not to mention the—at least for Rarity—inexplicable absence of a tablecloth.

I eyed her up and down; she was all too busy staring at the teapot between us, her brows furrowed in concentration, as if she were trying—and failing—to levitate it. All the while, she masked her clear agitation with that familiar, charming smile which seemed frozen onto her face. Raising an eyebrow, I moved my gaze from her to the pot, lifting it from the plate. The moment the purple radiance engulfed the vessel, Rarity quickly looked away, then at me, as if she had just snapped out of some daydream.

“Is everything alright?” I asked her, pouring myself some tea.

“Yes,” came the answer, perhaps just a little bit too quickly, and with a suspiciously innocent blink of her eyes.

We locked eyes for a moment. I could tell my look was piercing her, but she smiled on.

“Tea?” I asked.

“Oh, if you would.” She nodded.

I poured her some tea as well, opening my bag in the meantime. I put the pot back to its plate and pushed it slightly to the side, making place for the book which came floating up.

“So tell me,” I said. “Why exactly did you need this book?” I looked at the mannequin with the hoops at the far end of the shop. “I assume it has to do with that thing over there?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “The thing it's wearing is just a crinoline. An archaic design, but a crinoline nonetheless.”

“Come again?”

“A crinoline. It's something like...” She paused, thinking. “Scaffolding. Scaffolding for your clothes. A crinoline is designed to support your dress, or in this case, just your skirt, and hold it in a desired shape. It was adopted from ancient high-class diamond dog fashion.”

“Oh? But look at that thing.” I pointed my hoof towards the mannequin in disbelief. “You couldn't possibly walk in that. Of course, diamond dogs are bipedal, I can see how it would work for them. But for a pony? The dress would get ruined the moment your forehooves touch the ground. It would be utterly demolished.”

“What's the title of this book again, Twilight?” Rarity pulled it closer to herself.

And then it hit me. “Standing Upright.”

“That's it,” Rarity said with a clear sense of pride.

She quickly flipped over the many pages until she found the best illustration, and turned the book towards me. A whole page was dedicated to a very detailed drawing of two ponies, a mare and a stallion, both standing on only their hind legs and holding one another's forehooves; a nearly photorealistic depiction of what appeared to be bipedal dancing.

“See?” She pointed at the picture. “This whole standing upright thing was very fashionable at a time.”

“Really?” I asked.

“And it was brilliant, Twilight. For the diamond dogs, all the crinoline did was support the skirt. But for ponies, its purpose was two-fold. It didn't just serve to hold your dress in shape, but, along with the then-popular corsets, it even actually helped you stay upright.”

“How painfully resourceful,” I remarked. “The crinoline would have to be made of some very sturdy material, though, no? One that's relatively lightweight as well.”

“You're entirely correct, Twilight. It's actually...” She looked at the mannequin for a moment, then she turned back towards me. “Actually, you don't want to know.”

I raised an eyebrow at the ominous answer, but ultimately let the question forming at the tip of my tongue go. I wouldn't want to pressure her. Not for the time being, at any rate. As such, I opted for what I thought would be a much simpler question. “And what about the stallion?” I asked. “He's not wearing a corset or a crinoline. How is he standing like that?”

“The stallions needed serious strength in their backs to stay up like that. They would also often actually lean on the mare, as you can see here, putting her strength, as well as the crinoline's, to the test.” She exhaled, rolling her eyes. “The craze was as intense as it was short-lived.”

“Can't imagine why,” I snarked. “But why do you need this book? Why are you making such a dress? I don't know about their history, but I know that today, they are history.”

“Oh, it's nothing, really. I simply received an order for one a few weeks ago. I admit that, ordinarily, I wouldn't have agreed to it, but it was a very high-class unicorn from Canterlot. He said he wanted it to be a gift for his newly found love. As strange as the request seemed, I thought it was just sweet.” She stroked her chin with a hoof, looking away for a moment. “Well, that, and business has been slow these days anyhow.”

That last sentence got my attention.

“Really?” I asked. “How slow?”

She looked surprised by my question. It was rather sudden, that much I admit.

“I'm just curious,” I added carefully, attempting to fix the situation.

“Just a few dresses this month. I've been quite enjoying all the free time, but I was more than happy to rise to the challenge this dress posed.”

“And how long have you been working on it?”

“A couple of days,” she answered, looking down at the picture in the book again. “Getting the support right is a proper nightmare.”

“I hope you haven't been losing sleep over it, though,” I said, eagerly awaiting her reaction.

“What?” She quickly lifted her head, looking at me. “N-no,” she stuttered, “I haven't.”

Gotcha.

She picked her teacup up, holding it clumsily with both hooves as she moved it towards her lips. Her forelegs trembled and the cup shook ever so slightly as she took a careful sip. The strange reluctance to use magic, that borderline creepy smile, her less-than marvellous looks, her reaction to the implication of lost sleep; they all pointed towards one simple thing.

Rarity was tired. I of all ponies knew to recognise the signs of sleep deprivation. She had been missing sleep and we both knew it. It all added up. Well, apart from the most curious thing: the abnormal yellow in her eyes.

I lifted my own cup into the air using simple magic. This would mask my casting of another spell. The fine tea, although definitely helpful for my concentration, was not the reason I closed my eyes. Before my shut eyelids, colours began to fill the darkness. Directly in front of me formed a faint but definite aura which smelled of wonderful flowers; the unique mark of Rarity. Having known her as long as I have, I was certain as I could be that it was indeed her sitting across the table, and not some kind of impostor wearing her skin.

The blue aura was soon blurred out by the sour sounds of a much more subtle entity, or perhaps entities. The yellowish taste of muffled speech pressed down on me, descending upon my mind like a fog. It filled the entire room, and judging by the reverberations, the upper floor as well. Whatever its source was, it was somehow connected to the boutique.

Unsettling as it was, the presence of the mysterious ethereal mist in the air also seemed to explain why Rarity was tired. If her business has been slow, she hadn't been working a lot. I knew her well enough to know that she would never miss out on such a perfect opportunity for beauty sleep. Something was affecting her.

My final conclusion was clear: Rarity could not remain here.

I considered my options. I needed Rarity on my side, but I couldn't risk her stubborn nature getting her into trouble. She knew something was wrong. I knew something was wrong. I only needed to help her realise that. In the end, I decided to tackle the problem head-on.

Finishing my sip of tea, I reached to hold the cup with my hooves and ended my spells. Then I opened my eyes. “Rarity, are you sure everything is fine?”

“I don't know what you mean,” she responded, clearly startled by my question.

“I mean I think you look like you haven't slept in weeks,” I said.

“What? Of course I have. I'm literally drowning in free time, as I've said. Why would you insinuate otherwise?”

“Look.” I got her attention with that simple word. I held out my teacup away from me, beside the table. It was a rare porcelain piece, expertly crafted, probably by hoof. Rarity would never let it get hurt. “I'm going to begin counting,” I continued. “When I count to three, I'm going to drop this.”

“What?” Her smile quickly faded.

“One.”

She gaped. “But that's—”

“Two.”

“Twilight.” She extended a hoof slowly towards me.

“Three.”

“Don't!” she yelped.

I let go of the cup, and it promptly began plummeting towards its doom. In an instant, a small ball of blue light formed around it, slowing its descent. Within another moment, however, the light flickered and died, unable to combat the relentless clutches of gravity. Rarity quickly pulled up her forelegs to cover her eyes and pinned her ears back, surrendering to the inevitable destruction of her fragile child.

“Rarity?” I asked.

The unscathed cup smoothly floated back onto its saucer.

She opened her eyes and looked at me, then at the cup, then back at me. “What's got into you?” She kept herself collected despite the resonance of suppressed anger in her voice.

“What's got into you?” I threw the question back. “You're clearly not well. I want only to help you, but you must talk to me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.

“You know,” I went on, ignoring her denial, “you clearly haven't been getting enough rest lately. I was thinking you should take a day off from working on that ridiculous dress. You could stay at the library for a night. Perhaps a change of scenery will help you sleep.”

She let her mouth hang open, trying to form words but interrupting herself at every turn before she made a sound. I was making progress.

“Think of it as a sleepover,” I continued. “Except with less Applejack and more actual sleep this time.”

She covered her eyes with a forehoof, avoiding eye contact and looking down for a short while.

“Well, Twilight...” she finally responded, raising her head and looking at me with a relieved expression. “While I cannot begin to conceive how a sleepover thinks, staying at the library for a few nights does sound nice.”

She smirked with the elegantly calm poise I came to expect from her. Then she paused for a moment, looking slightly to the side. Her eyes kept shifting from left to right as if she was contemplating something. After a few seconds, she looked me in the eye once again.

“I need to get out of here.”

The light of the afternoon Sun created a soothing dimness inside as it passed through the curtains covering the windows.

“It's terrible!” Rarity whined. She writhed in my bed, the sheets crinkling as her body twisted in all kinds of shapes. Her tears soaked my pillow. “Even Opal's ran away! I haven't seen her in weeks!”

“It's okay, Rarity,” I tried to console her.

She coiled into fetal position. Her mouth hung open, gaping, but no sound escaped her lips any more. Even her tears seemed to have dried up. She lay there silently for several minutes before speaking again. When her eyes weren't shut tightly, she just stared straight forward with no focus. As terrible as it was to see such a fine lady so broken, I knew that it was for the best that she let everything out. I've been there.

“I feel like...” She tried to speak, but her voice failed her. “I feel like death.”

“Don't you have any idea what's causing it? You can tell me what's bothering you.” I gave her a tissue with which to clean herself. “I can keep a secret.”

“I don't...” She heaved heavily. “I don't know.” She put the tissue I gave her onto her face and over her eyes, leaving it there. “I can't think. My head is going to burst. It hurts.”

“When did it start?” I asked, hoping to find an answer.

She took a deep breath. “A few weeks ago. I think.” She sighed heavily. “I can't tell,” she mumbled under her nose. “Dear stars, I can't tell.”

Our conversation continued as such. I could see how much she strained herself to form the broken half-sentences she used to answer my questions. Her throat tensed with each word and her mouth moved less and less. A few hours past noon, she had talked herself into hard-earned sleep.

Before dreams overtook her, she told me what little she could about her unnatural illness. She spoke of feeling eyes on her back, of feeling like she was being watched. With her business slowing down this time of year, she couldn't concentrate on work to keep her thoughts occupied. It wasn't long before she could no longer keep up with the passage of days. Even when she slept, she was plagued by nightmares, although she couldn't recall the details of these dreams. She could only tell me about waking up at night, drenched in cold sweat, her mind filled with a primal fear of something that lies beyond the walls of sleep. She could never go back to sleep afterwards.

And all throughout, she was much too proud to ask for help.

Don't worry, my friend. Twilight Sparkle is on the case.

I spent an hour in the room with her, waiting to see whether she would wake up, and watching for any signs of uneasy sleep. Rarity slept like a little baby filly, however, and as such I was confident enough to leave her side. I left the room and closed the door behind myself without making a sound. Spike, who had been waiting outside, was also eager to help, but all I could tell him was not to go inside, so as not to disturb Rarity's rest.

By the time night fell, Rarity was still sound asleep. The town's lights dimmed, and the Moon and the stars shone upon the streets of Ponyville. Spike went to sleep downstairs, and I decided to follow his example.

Well, until he actually fell asleep, anyway.

When I was certain that Spike was no longer awake, I got up and silently left the library. I was already making my way towards the lonely Carousel Boutique by the time I began doubting myself. Perhaps leaving Rarity alone in my room wasn't a keen idea. I wasn't afraid that whatever caused her to lose sleep would find her; I was much more concerned that she would find a certain black bag with several sharp objects within. Explaining the crossbow itself, I could see. But the silver-tipped bolts? That'd take some thinking.

I soon dismissed such nonsense, though. My bag was hidden well enough; a sick and tired unicorn would not find it in the middle of the night.

Arriving at Rarity's shop, I took a look around the dark streets. The town was, expectedly, deserted at this hour. Yet I couldn't shake the uneasiness I felt as I peeked inside through a window. Although the boutique seemed peaceful and empty, I knew I'd have to be careful once inside. There was no telling what I would find.

I tried the front door, and found it promptly locked. Clever girl. Still, if a simple lock could stop me, I wouldn't be working for Night Shift, now would I? A touch of my horn, a few simple incantations, and just a little bit of blunt force applied to the right spot, and voilà. The door slowly creaked open, allowing me inside. I paid special attention not to shut it completely once I walked in; I knew this would be my primary escape route, should my little adventure go sideways.

I looked around cautiously. The shop was just like we had left it. Still, the otherwise warm colours seemed much less welcoming now, lit by what little moonlight found its way inside. In fact, the room itself felt much colder than I'd have expected. Apart from that, however, everything seemed to be as it should be.

I contemplated lighting a glowing spell to guide my way through the darkness. I ultimately decided against it, though. I was hoping that whatever it was that I had set out to find was yet unaware of my presence. Or, better yet, still clueless about the absence of Rarity. Thus, I began my exploration of the abandoned boutique.

On one side, the table by which we talked stood at the window. At the far end, the mannequins, still dressed up, posed in the air on the poles that held them up. I took careful peeks inside the dressing booths and checked every corner. In the kitchen, I opened every last cupboard. The bottom floor seemed clear.

Seemed was the operative word. As I sat down in a cold corner of the empty main room, I couldn't help but feel on edge. Only when the wall pressed against my back could I shake the feeling of something eyeing me from behind. I don’t scare easily, not after everything I'd seen. I knew not whether this was my deadened nerves catching up with me, or if I was being affected by the same thing that drove Rarity to insomnia. As I sat there, pondering, I suddenly began to hear a strange noise. I looked around, but all I saw was the empty room, completely still as it basked in white moonlight. I couldn't put my hoof on it. Only then did I realise that the sound I was hearing was, in fact, that of my teeth chattering.

I couldn't help but smirk at the discovery. Well played, I thought. Well played indeed.

Certain that I'd been discovered, I closed my eyes and cast the sensing spell I had used earlier that day. What was previously a faint mist or fog was now an all-engulfing sick-yellow that flooded the room. It left an uncanny taste in my mouth. During the day, all I could sense was quiet, muffled speech, almost completely lost in the background noise of magical currents that seethed in the airs of Equestria. Now, it was very definite: something like the noise of a stream trickling softly at your side. Except this stream's bed was not filled with water, but the never-ending murmurs of ponies crying in the distance. Most peculiar of all, it was flowing up the stairs.

As I opened my eyes and began my way upstairs, my mind was as clear as could be, set on my goal and purpose. My body, on the other hoof, seemed not to be in agreement. As I laid my first hoof onto the first step of the staircase, I gulped involuntarily. My legs cared not for my confidence; they shook as they flew through the air between my steps, and my hooves shuddered every time they reached the floor.

The stairs creaked as I ascended, almost as if they were trying to scare me themselves. Apart from that cheeky bit of spookiness, however, I found no difficulty in going up. Once I was on the upper floor, I entered Rarity's bedroom.

Before you ask, yes. I did feel a bit guilty. Seeing as how she was spending the night in my bed right at that moment, though, I figured it's only fair.

I created a small globe of light to follow above me as I rummaged through the room. It wasn't just plain untidy, but outright messy. Be it Rarity's trademark organised chaos or a result of countless nights spent awake, it made my job difficult just the same. I tried not to move too many things as I stepped over all the different fabrics, books and other gadgets lying on the ground. I evaded needles, scissors, and even another mannequin.

At the far end of the room was Rarity's bed, set with all the beautiful sheets and covers she owned, but in complete shambles. It had probably been made weeks ago, then left like that all until now. The sheets were messy, even torn in places, and the pillows were scattered around the room. Somepony had spent an awful lot of time wriggling around in this bed, and not in the fun way. Still, apart from more signs confirming what I already knew, there was nothing of value to be found inside. As I sent the orb of magical light into her closet, I half-expected the bogeymare herself to come screaming out. Alas, even that didn't happen.

And—wouldn't you know it—right then, precisely on cue, I heard the door slamming behind me. By the time I turned around, the room was still again. Swiftly hopping over the mess on the floor, I put an ear to the closed door. I heard nothing. That was the worst, as the stairs had creaked when I walked up. Why then, I wondered, do I hear no noise now?

I should have brought my blades. My crossbow! I should have risked it, going into my room to fetch them. Me and my common courtesy, not wanting to wake Rarity up!

...deep breath. You know what you're doing.

I took a few steps back, not taking my eyes off the door. When I was at a respectable distance, I readied a pulling spell, wrapping a purple glow around the doorknob, shining the white glow of the orb on it. I stood there, in complete silence, listening for a sound that wouldn't come. I threw the door open with a bang.

And behind it I found nothing. The hallway was empty. The stairs were quiet. I could almost hear my blood freeze in my veins. I stepped outside cautiously. Then I walked, slowly, to the top of the stairs, looking and listening for anything. Amateur mistake.

First, I felt a cold touch on my back. By the time I even realised, I was already tumbling down the staircase. I wanted to teleport to break my fall, but all my horn produced were a few sparks. I rolled down the stairs helplessly.

For a while, everything was black. I couldn't tell whether my eyes were open or closed. I struggled to stand up, but I could not move my legs. I only remember a quiet, barely audible thud of something landing next to me. And I could hear crying, this time, without the need of a sensing spell. All around me, I could hear sobbing escalating into bawling cries. Then, at once, it all stopped, leaving me in complete silence.

After a moment of terrifying calm, came laughter like thunder. Inside my head, all my thoughts were drowned out by that infernal cackling. I felt their eyes on me. Their cold touches sent shivers down my spine. I could feel my heart pounding at my chest, as though it had been ready to burst.

In that moment, I almost wished it actually had.

Nightmares, Night Mares, part 2

Chapter 3:
Nightmares, Night Mares, part 2

So dark.

I've never felt so alone.

So cold.

Mother? Father? And that other stallion—

Why?

Blood splattered on every surface. Soaked bedsheets. And the knife—gore dried on the blade.

Is this just a nightmare?

I didn't understand. I still don't. They were gone. There was no changing it.

This shouldn't be.

I awoke in cold sweat.

An old clock on the wall ticked away above me, the sound bringing me back to reality. I pulled my hooves along the carpet to my eyes, brushing the crust away. The tears I wiped as well.

Light stabbed my eyes as I opened them. Standing up, I saw that the Carousel Boutique was empty. The yellowish aura still lingered in the air, yet it was quiet now, perhaps calm even. Sated.

Hold on... light!

I shook my head and slapped my hoof onto my forehead to completely shake off the shackles of sleep.

Stars! How long has it been?

I quickly turned and looked at the door. It was almost shut but not quite, exactly as I had left it. I cracked my bones and rushed outside, kicking the door closed behind me. The first reddish beams of the dawning Sun had just begun making their way across the town. Perhaps it's not too late, I thought. I can still make it home.

I trotted down the branching streets that connected the boutique and the library, only slowing my steps when I neared my destination. That's the thing I hate most about having hooves: you can't run quietly if your life depends on it.

From the outside, the library seemed calm. No lights on, no sounds coming from inside. I walked up to the door carefully, trying to avoid passing a window. I knew I hadn’t closed the door before I left, but I was still nervous as I tried the lock. It opened with a quiet clack; another weight off my chest. I didn't know what to expect when I stepped inside. As such, I simply closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and hoped for the best.

The harsh, wet sound of snoring would have made me want to do something terrible on any other day. On this one occasion, however, I couldn't help but let loose a relieved sigh when I saw Spike sleeping in the corner of the main room. My departure had gone completely unnoticed by this ever-vigilant fire-breathing protector of Rarity, it seemed.

Having calmed my nerves, I sat down right by the door. My legs were killing me; perhaps running halfway across town after falling down the stairs wasn't the brightest of ideas. At least now my thoughts could catch up with my body.

I recalled the events of the previous night. I still had no idea about what it was that I was fighting, but I had confirmation that it was connected to the boutique itself. It also either has a material form, or is at least capable of affecting the physical world. By all means, it could have easily killed me, and indeed, Rarity herself if it had wished to. Yet we were alive, but why?

Its weapon is fear. It doesn't kill, it just makes you afraid. Now, I'm no zoölogist, but I knew that in the animal world, that is a sign that the thing wants you gone, that it is afraid itself. Yet that could not have been the case here. No, the thing enjoyed what it was doing far too much.

This thought brought me to the most interesting part: the laughter and the nightmares. Rarity spoke of nightmares herself, of the feeling of being watched and observed. Why would the thing induce nightmares in its victims? Does it, perhaps, find it amusing? Could it be that simple?

Whatever the case, I needed to go back there. And when I did, I knew I mustn't be alone.

A sudden creak coming from up the stairs snapped me back into the real world, and sent a shiver down my spine.

“Twilight?” Rarity turned to me as she descended.

Oh dear.

“Heavens, what time is it?” Rarity then asked, looking out a window, then back to me. “Have I been asleep this long?”

Crisis averted.

“Yes, actually.” I nodded, smiling as warmly as I could. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She returned the smile. “My hair must be a mess though,” she said as she walked up to me.

“Well,” I chuckled, “I'm sure we can handle tha—”

“But my stars, darling!” she interrupted me. “Forget about me. Look at you! What have you been doing all night?”

“I...” I stuttered, taken aback. Such a terrible question to be asked. “I fell. I, er, I fell down the stairs when I was checking your room.” I shook my head quickly. “When I was checking my room. Where you slept just now. To see if you're alright.”

“But Twilight,” she said, her endless concern for a friend irritating me to no end. “Have you looked in a mirror recently? Your—”

“I've also been reading,” I said. “I've been reading a book all night. A book about nightmares.”

“Is that so?” she asked, leaning forward, looking in my eyes suspiciously. “Did you happen upon anything useful?”

“W-well,” I stammered.

Think of something, think! I darted my gaze across the room, hoping to find inspiration, all until I laid my eyes on one of the many bookshelves. From where I stood, it blocked out a good portion of the early morning light that came through the window right next to it. Oh, that is just too perfect.

“Yes, in fact I have,” I finally answered, looking back at Rarity confidently. “Tell me, have you ever heard of feng shui?”

Rarity kept her teeth clenched around the backrest of a chair as she pulled it across the room. “Do you honestly believe this is it?” she mumbled.

We had been “rearranging” the lower floor of the Carousel Boutique all afternoon, emptying wardrobes and cupboards only to scatter their contents across the room in illogical patterns. At the centre, a gigantic pile of furniture formed something I could best describe as a pyramid. I was, of course, making everything up on the fly. I didn't know the first thing about feng shui, and luckily, neither did Rarity. Though I must admit, at first I was still worried that my complete ineptitude would shine through should my ability to talk nonsense fail me.

“Yes,” I said. “You see, the arcanax currents are blowing right through the Ponyville ley-lines right now, and I think the apparent arrangement of magicless substances present in this building might be causing a slight disturbance in these wafts by creating a full-blown interference pattern straight on top of your home.”

I was, however, surprisingly good at talking nonsense. I couldn't help but put on a proud smile at the achievement. That, and the fact that I had never seen Rarity's eyes any wider.

“Sooo, can you fix it?”

I nodded. “By reordering the spellfree objects and emancipating the spellknot-buildups, I aim to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow.”

“So,” she asked again, “can you fix it?”

“Yes.” I smiled on.

“Okay,” she answered with a clear tinge of uncertainty in her voice. “Do tell me, though,” she continued, “what's in the bag?”

My black saddlebag was hoisted over my back. This time, I came prepared.

“Just a few books,” I responded. “About feng shui, nightmares, and similar, should we need them. I do think we're doing a good job, though. Oh, that reminds me: I would like to stay here tonight, just to make sure everything checks out. I hope that's not too big of a problem.”

“Oh no, not at all.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “After all the trouble you're going through to, uh, help me,” she stuttered, “you can even take my bed.” She looked away, pondering. “I do have a spare mattress tucked away somewhere, I think,” she finished.

How eager to help, I thought. Perhaps even surprisingly so. Is it just her renowned generosity, or is there something more to this?

Either way, the plan was in motion. Rarity and I would spend that night at her home, and when crying changed to laughter, I would be there. The theory was simple: when the thing finds that Rarity has returned, it will no doubt come back to haunt her. For if it had preferred to prey on me, it would have made its way to the library already, yet instead chose to stay. Whatever it is, Rarity had to be its prime target.

With some more twists on words, I was also able to coerce Rarity to let me sleep on the mentioned mattress. I wanted her to be where the thing expected her to be: her own bed.

Thus, we continued making a complete mess of the place she called home. It may sound foolish of me to return after the welcome I received the previous night. What's the worst they could do to me, though? Give me another bad dream? I wanted to see them try, awaiting them with open hooves. And sharpened knives.

I sat on the mattress, my back pushed against the wall. The lower floor was quiet, save for the cadent ticking of the clock above. While Rarity slept upstairs—or was trying to, anyway—I stood watch for her, guarding her dreams. I slowly turned my head from side to side, inspecting the room over and over, keeping an eye out for the slightest movement. I slightly regretted, then, that I so hastily made that mountain of furnishing smack-dab in the middle of the floor, as it was blocking my view of the far side. Still, the two most important things—the door and the staircase—were perfectly in sight.

A few hours after sunset, I noticed that a strange feeling of tiredness—indeed, of exhaustion—was taking its toll on me. I was used to being deprived of sleep; in fact, insomnia had become a style of life for me over the past four years. For a long time, my sleeping hours had been interrupting my waking ones, rather than the other way around.

Yet this time it was different. It's not something I can explain to you. Suffice to say, I knew well enough what being tired felt like, and this wasn't it, but something bizarre. Even more so, when I considered that I had actually slept last night. Nightmares or not, sleep is sleep. It's as if someone else had slept for me, using my body.

A whitish gust passed before me, breaking my train of thought. It ran by so quickly, it took me a moment to even process that something had happened. I couldn't see what it was, or what it even looked like. I looked up at the clock, only to find that it was already half an hour past midnight. I had completely zoned out, and I knew what to blame.

Only then did I realise: the thing had been headed for the stairs.

Rarity!

I jumped up and ran, hopping over all the things we had scattered on the floor, my bag flying through the air as it followed me upstairs. Seeing Rarity's door closed made me stop; it was meant to be open. There was no time to waste, however. As the saddlebag fell to the floor behind me, a crossbow came floating up at my side, loading itself with a silver-tipped bolt. Without further hesitation, I bucked the door open with a quick turn.

And there they stood, two of them, their hairless skin pale white, laughing manically at their paralysed victim. Rarity groaned and whined with closed eyes, twitching slightly but unable to flee.

One was pressing its muzzle at her chest while the other rubbed its featureless face into her hair, both leaning on her with their front hooves. Their slender bodies throbbed and pulsated like those of feeding leeches.

I could never have imagined that a mannequin could be so terrifying.

Normally, Night Shifters are encouraged to keep their operations a secret, and I had always fully supported that sentiment.

“Get your horrid hooves off her!”

This time, however, I let my emotions get the better of me.

The puppets froze for an instant; then, they lifted their heads and turned towards me, emitting a high-pitched hiss. The first of the two, in turn, received a bolt in between its eyes, collapsing onto the ground like a rag doll. The other leapt onto me and pushed me to the ground before I could reload. Its screaming sounded more like something sucking air in, rather than pushing it out. As it readied its wooden hooves to bash at me, my crossbow also came falling down by my side, the purple aura that surrounded it fading quickly.

Just as its hooves began their descent, a blue glow surrounded the mannequin, stopping it from pounding my head into a pulpous mass. The small moment that the aura lasted was enough for me to kick it off. For all the strength with which it had pinned me down, it now flew across the room as if it had no weight whatsoever.

“What's happening?” Rarity panted, standing up on her bed.

“You do what I say,” I said, “that's what's happening.”

Behind Rarity's bed, the mannequin with the crossbow bolt stuck between its eyes stood up, lifting its body and head as if being pulled up by strings. It groaned in an unearthly voice, some sort of blackish, bloodlike substance pouring from the wound on its forehead. It reached for the bolt, and with a snap, it broke the shaft clear off, but was unable to remove the silver tip. I couldn't tell whether it was confused or angered. Most likely both.

“Come here!” I directed Rarity. “How many?” I then asked, setting my hooves well so as not to be knocked down again.

Seeing the thing behind her, Rarity yelped, then hopped over to me quickly, turning to face the monsters as well. “What?” she asked, still breathing heavily, turning her head back and forth between me and the mannequins.

“How many mannequins are there in your home?” I asked quickly, trying to stay calm.

The mannequins had both got up by now, ready to attack, but for the time being they only stood there, hissing and screaming at us erratically.

“Well, there's,” Rarity stammered, “I keep five downstairs, and I keep one in my room.”

“That means two up here and four down there,” I said, backing towards the open door. “Run!”

She turned quickly, rushing out of the room. As she passed by me, I was already pulling the doorknob, backing out as well, closing the door just in time to hear the heavy knocks of the mannequins leaping at and colliding with the wooden barrier.

Rarity stood next to me, completely wordless, awaiting my next order. I grabbed the straps of my black bag with my mouth and began running for the stairs, beckoning for Rarity to follow me.

While I wasn't used to physically carrying the bag, you would be amazed at what a sudden rush of adrenaline can do. And do I love it.

As we reached the stairs, a third and fourth mannequin were already making their way up with careful steps. Refusing to stop, I swung the saddlebag at them, tripping their delicate balance. They fell and rolled down the steps as Rarity and I jumped over them. Revenge is sweet.

Now on the ground floor, Rarity darted past the pile of tables and chairs in the middle and trampled over anything on the ground, dashing for the front door.

“Stop!” I quickly shouted, my teeth still clenched on the saddlebag's harness. “Don't open it!”

She froze, then turned to me. “What?!”

“If they see you leave, they might follow you,” I answered to her eloquently put concerns, finally spitting the bag out. “We're not letting them out of here. Duck!”

Without delay, Rarity cowered to the ground, evading a swift strike from the fifth mannequin's hoof. She bucked its chest with her hind legs as she jumped up. The puppet fell with the grace of a feline, twisting mid-air and landing on its hooves without making a sound. Luckily, even this small leeway was enough for Rarity to run up to me.

We stood at the middle of the dark room, our sides pressed against one another's and facing in opposite directions, watching as the evil dolls surrounded us. In front of me, down the stairs came four of them; and I could guess that straight behind me, Rarity's attacker was readying itself for another strike as well. From the corner of my eye, I could also see the sixth creeping up on us.

Their movement was balletic; they seemed to almost float above the floor, like marionettes being danced forward, touching the ground with nothing but the tips of their wooden hooves. Some were hissing, and some were laughing, their heads and necks twitching and twirling unnaturally quickly with no regards to their body's posture.

“Stay close,” I advised, opening the bag with a hoof, not taking my eyes off the nearing dress-dummies. I quickly flicked a heavy knife out of the bag and up in the air, catching the handle in my mouth. The blade was as sharp as it was thick; in a dire situation, it might as well have doubled as a hammer. Having barely ever held it in my mouth, I only now realised just how unwieldy it really was. Still, I thought it was my best bet at the moment.

I didn't care for the small, ferrous gush of warmness that accompanied the grip of the knife inside my mouth; I had more pressing issues right now.

One by one, the mannequins formed something resembling a circle around us, leaving roughly equally wide gaps between themselves. When their formation was assembled, they stopped their screaming and cackling. On one hoof, I was grateful for being relieved of the chilling noise, but on the other, I was also terrified by it.

Then, the one straight in front of me—its head still seeping with blood—cocked its head to its left, its timber-neck making a loud snapping sound. After a few seconds, the mannequin closest to its left copied the motion. Then the third, and fourth, and I heard the last two snaps come from behind me as well.

Perhaps it was part of some otherworldly ritual; perhaps they had never had to deal with two ponies at once, and were now pondering their options. Either way, I wouldn't give them time to show me the answer.

“Get ready, Rarity,” I said. “The plot thickens,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath. I couldn't help but grin cheekily in anticipation.

I leapt forward, ramming the knife into the top of wounded mannequin's neck, right below its jaw. The soft wood that composed it cracked and splintered, more so as it struggled, trying to push me off. Two other mannequins also jumped towards me, one wrapping its hooves around my neck from behind, pulling at me, and the other kicking my face repeatedly to make me let go of the blade.

I kicked at the one at my back with a hind leg and took a step to the side, the blade still firmly in my mouth, placing the damaged mannequin between me and the third. Pressing my entire weight against the doll, I tripped it over, the one behind it also falling over like a domino. Using one to pin the other to the ground, I strained the blade, pulling down on the handle with all of my might.

A loud crack echoed within the room; the doll's head came off, but chips of wood weren't the only thing that were sent flying. The weighty blade itself was snapped in half, and flew straight at my already bashed face, gashing me across my right cheek and liberating me of a patch of purple fur.

Although decapitated, an eerie shadowesque substance was sprouting from the mannequin's broken neck, retaining the rough shape of the original head. This inner thing seemed more malleable than the wood that was its host, though, as its outlines—already hard to make out in the darkness—moved and shifted continuously.

It opened its shadow-mouth to scream at me, then braced itself for a powerful kick to knock me off itself. I failed to deflect the blow, getting hit straight in the stomach, causing me to recoil in pain. I staggered back, straight into another white hoof at my face, courtesy of yet another mannequin. I fought it off, then turned back to see the “headless” mannequin coming at me. I struck out at the shade in place of its head, but my hooves passed right through it with no effect.

It was then that Rarity drove a bolt of silver sideways through its head. More of the same, bloodlike substance spurted from the entry point and the thing groaned in pain. Then another bolt came through, and a third; Rarity huffed furiously with every strike. It seems that lacking the crossbow does not make its bolts any less deadly.

The spectral head burst like a bubble, spewing its tarlike blood all over the room. Then, in an instant, all of it evaporated. The mannequin fell stiff onto the ground like a tipped chesspiece. It seemed, now, completely inanimate.

Rarity and I exchanged a swift look—confusion and gratitude in our eyes—then, without a word, I quickly picked the three bolts up from the ground and threw them back into my bag.

“Come on,” I said, rushing to take my bag into my mouth. “Keep moving!”

I ran across the main room, Rarity trotting right behind me, pushing any mannequin in front of us to the side with sheer speed. I ran into the kitchen and Rarity soon followed me.

The kitchen was much smaller in relation to the other room, and—thanks to my own earlier laziness—not completely rummaged in the name of feng shui.

“Pray tell me, Twilight,” Rarity said, sounding as plainly irritated as she was terrified, “what is really going on here?”

“Your mannequins are trying to kill us,” I said as I kicked my bag to the side. I also noticed Rarity's dining table, round in shape and wide in diameter, that stood by the wall. “Any other inquiries?” I flipped the table onto its side quickly.

Without further ado, Rarity rushed for the kitchen sink and began filling a small glass with water.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled as I pushed the flipped table to barricade the doorless passage that connected the kitchen with the wide room on the other side. As the mannequins began pressing their bodies against it in their efforts to get at us, I pushed myself at it as well to stop them.

Still wordless, Rarity rushed towards me and threw the glass over the makeshift bulwark. I heard the glass break and the dummies hiss in surprise on the far end.

“I thought maybe water dissolved them?” Rarity shrugged. “What with silver hurting them and all.” She pressed herself against the table by my side to help me keep the dolls out.

“That was the Wicked Witch of the Everfree!” I yelled.

“Well excuse me, Twilight!” she replied. “What do you propose we do then?”

“Well, you saw it: the mannequins seem possessed somehow. We need to crack open their bodies to get to the vulnerable spirits inside. Then we'll make short work of them with the bolts.”

“Oh, of course. How did I not think of that?”

I ignored Rarity's sarcastic remark, focusing on creating a kinesis spell. Protected by the thick layer of wood from the draining glares of the mannequins, I felt my magical power slowly rejuvenating. I enveloped the table with my magic, lifting it slightly off the ground, hoping for them to take the bait. They did.

Not one, but two, in fact. The pair stuck their heads under the table, and in the very moment that I locked eyes with their empty sockets, I felt my strength being sapped. The edge of the heavy table came down on them, cracking their necks open with its weight. Black blood oozed from their wounds and they screamed.

“Hold them!” I told Rarity as I rushed to pick a few bolts out of my bag. Driving two in each splintered neck, I ended their torment. The mannequins hissed and groaned, then stiffened as their bodies became motionless, the blood they had shed disappearing without a trace.

“Three down,” I said. “Three more to go.”

“Well I don't think they're going to fall for that again.”

“Neither do I.”

“So,” she asked, “any other ideas?”

“Actually, yes,” I said.

Pulling the table away, we kicked the three mannequins before us out of the way as we ran back into the showroom.

“Their strength was in secrecy,” I said as we ran. “Exposed, they're no real threat.”

“No real threat?!” Rarity burst out.

“Not if you know what you're doing,” I replied as we got to the large pile of furniture in the middle. “There, go around!”

Rarity did so, going the other way around the pile. The mannequins followed her single-mindedly, paying no attention to me. With a strong kick at the side of the pile, it all came crashing down on them. Wood and hard metal met the mannequins, breaking their backs and long legs.

When the sounds of breaking and cracking died off, I dug them out one by one, finishing them by stabbing the silver bolts into the cracks of their crippled bodies.

“One, two,” I began as I threw the last of the lifeless dolls to the ground, “three, four....”

Rarity was speechless, her jaw hanging open.

“Count them, Rarity!” I exclaimed, turning to her. “One plus two plus three equals all six mannequins.”

“That is...” she said, “quite the feat, Twilight.” She put a hoof to her forehead, breathing in and out slowly. “I think I need a moment.”

I nodded. “You've earned it.”

She walked around the collapsed pile, passing by me without looking in my eye, towards the first mannequin I downed. Next to it, the handle of my heavy knife and what remained of its blade rested on the floor. She picked it up slowly, looking at it closely, then dropped it to the ground.

“Really, Twilight?” she asked with a tone of disappointment.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Books, huh?” Rarity sighed, shaking her head, then looking in my eyes.

Where countless monsters have failed to scare me, that simple question coming from my friend now struck terror in me. I tried to hide my gulping. “Oh, that?” I asked, giggling girlishly, as everything began to sink in. “I got that knife from your kitchen. Don't you remember?”

“Is that so?” She tilted her head. “Did you also get the crossbow from my kitchen?”

“Well, Rarity, it's funny you should mention that decorative crossbow that I found among all this stuff!” I pointed across the thoroughly dishevelled room. “I wanted to mention how interesting it is you have one of those. Maybe even you forgot that you—”

“Twilight, please stop lying to me.”

“What?” I asked. “Please, Rarity! Look at all this. Do you think that after everything we have been through, after all we've done together as friends, that I would lie to you?” I looked in her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Please, drop this matter,” I asked her with more sincerity than I wanted to admit.

“Twilight,” Rarity said, “your eyes are yellow.”

I opened my mouth, but the air got stuck in my lungs.

“They have been ever since last night,” she finished.

I couldn't respond.

The seemingly endless stream of white lies that had been flowing from my mouth for the better part of four years suddenly came to a stop.

“Is this every day to you?” Rarity's words echoed in my ears like a disembodied voice whispering inside my head. “The way you acted just now? How you wielded the crossbow and the knife?” Only hearing her say these words did I come to realise what I had been doing. “What's happened to you, Twilight?”

My hind legs gave away. I fell down. I sat there, gaping speechlessly as Rarity walked slowly towards me. I knew what happens to agents that reveal themselves: code blank. A complete memory wipe of their time at Night Shift, conducted personally by none other than Princess Luna herself.

Yet it wasn't even that which frightened me. In fact, having lived in this knowledge for all this time, I've made peace with it long ago.

I closed my eyes, unable to look Rarity in the eye.

I've been lying to all of my friends, all this time, and for what? We were the ones who redeemed Luna herself by vanquishing Nightmare Moon. We stopped Discord and defended Canterlot against a full-scale changeling invasion. They weren't someponies off the street, not ones who would lose their minds after they realise how dangerous their fragile world really is. Were these ponies really worth lying to? I guess I never thought about it that way.

Too late now.

I felt Rarity's forelegs wrap around me as she rested her head on my shoulder, pressing her soft cheeks against my swollen, battered face.

“Don't cry,” she whispered. “It's okay. I can keep a secret.”

“Dear Princess Luna,

I have recently undertaken a solitary operation, in which I investigated the apparent sleep deprivation that my dear friend Rarity had been suffering from.

I have, ultimately, determined its cause to be a very peculiar offshoot of animation magic. As you may already be aware, Rarity is something of fashionista; she creates and sells dresses and other items of clothing for a living. Her business has been slowing down these past few weeks, however, and with her little sister Sweetie Belle being away, she had been left alone in her shop and home with little to do.

Her apparent fear of loneliness and natural affinity to levitation and animation magic caused her to unwittingly animate the mannequins she worked with. It is safe to assume that she spent a great deal of time talking to them, perhaps even singing to them, causing them to come alive.

The mannequins fed on her loneliness and fear to stay “alive” by inducing nightmares in their maker. Unless otherwise and directly provoked, they continued to haunt Rarity with little regard to anything else. This led to Rarity's unwillingness, and later, inability to sleep, along with other curious physical symptoms, such as the white of her eyes turning yellow.

I had rashly foregone asking for your advice in the matter, and instead chose to act on my own. The situation has since been dealt with. I have broken the mannequins into small pieces which I can deliver to Canterlot at a moment's notice, should you decide that further examination is required. You will also find a much more detailed account of everything transpired attached with this letter.

I must, however, admit that I have given away my position as an agent of Night Shift.

I would like to take this opportunity to raise my voice against performing Code Blank on my friend Rarity. As you are no doubt aware, she is the bearer of the Element of Generosity, and as such, after her promise that she will not talk of what transpired that night to any pony, I am willing to place my complete trust and confidence in that she will keep her word.

I, personally, accept any and all consequences you may deem necessary.

Your faithful assistant,

Twilight Sparkle.”

Night of the Zombie Ponies

Chapter 4:
Night of the Zombie Ponies

At the edge of the Everfree, on top of a hill, not too long a walk from Ponyville, just by the gates of the town cemetery, lies a small house where nopony lives. The cemetery's caretaker, an old mare, used to spend her days there and lead a quiet, sombre life. After she herself joined her friends beyond the wall of death during a great heatwave two summers ago, the house has now stood empty for months on end, completely unattended and given over to the marring claws of time.

Seeing as how my loved ones are resting in Canterlot, I'd never visited the Ponyville Cemetery. As such, my knowledge of the old home—or indeed, the cemetery itself—is very limited. Not that I have any intention of visiting my parents' tomb any time soon, either. I do believe I've had enough of that business when I was investigating their death. I prefer to remember them the way I knew them, and not how they ended up.

I never liked cemeteries. I understand their purpose, and why others would regularly visit; it's just not in my taste to do so. I find them depressing. Their atmosphere is downright mortifying. The sight of decaying stone combines with the smell of dying flowers. The quiet, grieving sobbing that you hear emanate from your peers is nothing short of dismal. I simply can't take it.

Well, that, and then there's the zombies.

The envelope had been closed with a dark-blue seal. The wax bore the image of a unicorn in a helmet. Princess Luna had adopted this classic representation of Nightmare Moon as her own, and used it in her messages sent to Night Shift operatives. I broke the seal and took the letter out.

“Twilight Sparkle,

We have received and read your report regarding your latest operation, and we are not impressed. In fact, it would be most difficult to overstate our disappointment in you.

Expect to be contacted soon.”

The letter was soon sent flying across the room.

“That's it?!” I yelled.

I didn't care that Spike was sleeping downstairs. I didn't care how far into the moonlit Ponyville night my words might echo. That's it?!

“I take it you are not pleased with what the letter contained.”

And I most definitely didn't care for the bat-winged pegasus that stood on the library's balcony. His voice was collected and calm, as if he didn't even notice the tantrum I threw before his catlike eyes. A commendable feat, considering how exhausting his flight from Canterlot must have been. I would have expected him to show at least just a little bit of disdain. But no, he stood straight before me, his face unflinching all throughout, his gaze carrying nothing but indifference. Princess Luna sure does choose her Night Guards well.

“No,” I said, shaking with barely contained frustration. “I am not pleased. After three whole days!” I groaned. “You woke me up for this?”

“In case it is not clear to you,” he said, retaining that insufferable calmness in his voice, “I was only asked to deliver the message. I do not know what was in it.”

Just thinking about that pathetic excuse for a letter, and hearing this stallion's apathetic tone, I could feel myself slipping into full-blown rage.

“Nor do I wish to know,” he added before I could have opened my mouth again.

Taking a deep breath, I counted to five in my head. “Very well then,” I said in the least emotional way I could. “I confirm to you that I have read and understood the message contained in Princess Luna's letter. Will that be all?”

“Yes.” He nodded as he spread his leathery wings. “Have a good night, Twilight Sparkle.” With that, he turned his back to me and leapt off the balcony, flying off into the starry night sky.

I walked back into my room. At the back, behind my bed, I found the letter that I had so carelessly cast away a moment before. As it floated before my eyes, I read it over and over. There was nothing to it; no secret message hidden between the lines, no second meaning to the words. Just the plain, harsh reality that Luna was apparently so unimpressed by my performance that she couldn't even bother to sign her own letter.

I pushed my bedroom bookshelf aside, not by magic but with my bare hooves. I absolutely needed to channel my anger into something, and—aside from taking the library apart branch by branch—this was the only viable option.

Behind the shelf, was the plain wall of the library, covered in tree's bark as an ordinary pony would expect. It'd been a long time since I was last “ordinary,” however. I closed my eyes as I willed the hidden door to open. In the small, cramped space inside the wall, I saw four years of my life. A copy of every report I'd ever sent to Princess Luna, stacked orderly on shelves at the left side. To the right were the letters I'd received from the princess. I sighed as this latest—and perhaps last—letter floated inside, rolling up neatly to take its place next to the others. Under the shelves was my old black saddlebag, worn and ragged by years of faithful service. Lying by the saddlebag was a large brown sack, rope tying its mouth tightly. It bulged from the many pieces of wood inside—all that was left of the monster-mannequins of the Carousel Boutique.

Is this the end, then? I wondered, looking over my curious collection of items. What am I to do with all this? Should I just leave them here? Heh, I might just ask Luna about this when she....

Wouldn't want to disappoint her by doing the wrong thing, eh?

The hidden door and the large bookshelf returned to their place, concealing my little closet of horrors as I turned around, walking outside onto the balcony again.

I sat out there, looking off into the darkness. I ran a hoof across my right cheek. The wound I had received when my own blade broke apart during my struggle with a mannequin still hadn't healed; in fact, I could feel that it was the tiniest bit swollen.

The Night Guard was long gone. There was only the silence of a sleeping town, blanketed in the pleasant warmness of the night. At the edge of the horizon, a grey raincloud blocked out the shining of the stars, making its crawl towards Ponyville across the sky for a scheduled shower.

No demons to hunt tonight, it seems.

Darkened homes all around. In the distance, only one little house glowed with faint light.

Hold on.

I quickly jumped up, leaning off the balcony as much as I could, squinting to watch the small glimmer of light with newly piqued—and positively peaked—interest. That's the old caretaker's house, I pondered, the one by the cemetery. Nopony lives there any more. So what's with the light?

I didn't even mean to check it out. It's hardly my fault that by the time I noticed, I was already halfway across the town, walking towards the “abandoned” house up on the hillside. I couldn't turn back then, could I?

The rain had caught me off guard. I had been so fascinated by the glowing windows of the hillside home that it took the first drops of cold water hitting my back to notice how the dark cloud had crept up on me. It wasn't long before the light rain escalated into a proper shower. I had to separate my soaked fringe and push it to the sides just so it wouldn't obscure my vision. Where my mane wasn't stuck to my coat, it hung in thick strands. And I must say, while I normally do so enjoy the sound of rain hitting the glass of a window, being outside detracted somewhat from the experience.

The caretaker's old house was nowhere near as roomy as the home I was used to; it was a cramped collection of a few small rooms pressing against each other in a semi-orderly fashion. Through the window, I could see the main room of the house, lit by the flickering light of many candles. Shelves on the wall had apparently been emptied to make room for these sources of light. A simple spade leaned against a corner, and next to it, an ornate couch of faded green textile and cheap woodwork lay by the wall. The couch was accompanied by an equally aged, small table that stood before it. The table, short enough for somepony to rest their hooves on while lying on the couch, had only a book occupying it, open and lying face down.

A closed door opposite to the couch and table, leading to another room, meant the end of my quick sneak-peek. Apart from this still-life, the room was empty, with nothing but the greyed white walls and low ceiling on which the light of small flames danced. Clearly, I had no choice but to try the door if I wanted to find out more. It wasn't even locked.

I shook the water from my coat and mane just inside the entrance. Impolite, perhaps, but I was certain that the owner of the house wouldn't mind. I was then able to take a better look at the candle-lit room, if only to confirm that there really wasn't much else to see. Crumbling plasterwork and decaying tapestry aside, there wasn't anything inside I hadn't already seen.

By far the most interesting thing was the book on the table. I recognised this copy of “Fifty Bales of Hay” as a cheap smut of a romance novel released just last year. More than that, this particular edition seemed brand new; although the book was lying open with its cover upwards, the pages still pushed against the table as they struggled to close the book. What manner of new inhabitant the house could have, I couldn't even begin to guess.

Having inspected the room, I turned my attention towards the closed door at the other end. I pressed an ear onto the door and listened. From the other side, I heard a strange noise. It was similar to a sort of metallic scraping, but it was barely audible and muffled by the wooden door. I concentrated my magic into my horn, readying a kinetic projectile. With a quick motion, I swung the door inwards. As it opened, I heard a sudden clattering, as if something metallic was dropped on wood.

Save for the gust of air that rushed past me as the door swiftly swayed open, though, there was nothing—or nopony—unusual inside the dark room. By the left wall, a small desk stood, old as the rest of the furniture in the house. Above it, a small dressing mirror hung from the wall. At the opposite side, an old-fashioned bed lay, with mismatching sheets and a new-looking pillow. A window had its curtains drawn at the far end.

For all the candles in the other room that made the house glow in the night, this room had no source of illumination within. Much of the yellowish light that rushed inside was, in turn, blocked out by my own creeping shadow. The glowing of my horn faded. I walked inside.

On the desk I saw a unique combination of items; an opened envelope rested on the desk, and next to it was a simple flat rasp; the source of the clattering, perhaps. What a curious relationship these two items must have. Examining the envelope revealed a startling fact, one about which I couldn't decide whether it was more worrying or intriguing. Engraved into the dark-blue wax of the broken seal was an image of Nightmare Moon. The letter itself, however, was nowhere to be found.

I looked up into the mirror above. From gazing into the cracked glass, though, I could take away only one thing: with my mane utterly soaked and my face scarred as it was, I looked simply awful. Turning away, I took a closer look at the bed. The sheets, clearly not belonging in this room, were rumpled and in a complete mess. The pillow, in near-perfect condition, was pushed off to the side; the crinkles on the sheet underneath seemed as if its user had dragged their head along the bed, bringing the pillow with them.

Either an escape artist was having the night of their life with that novel in the abandoned house of a dead lady and pulled the perfect disappearing act when I walked in, or I had disturbed something far more sinister. If I were doing something in this room, I pondered, and I wanted it kept secret, what would I do when I hear the door opening?

I took a few steps backwards and crouched down. Looking under the bed, I found not the world's worst criminal's attempt at hiding, but their handiwork. I gasped as I looked at the body crammed into the small space under the bed, next to some worn saddlebag of leather. I ignored the bag; my horn lit up once again as the body of the mare slid out into the open. I placed her onto the bed.

I quickly looked her over. To my horror, when I pushed the unicorn's fiery red mane aside, I found a syringe jammed into the side of her neck. I hesitated for a moment before my instincts got the better of me. I pulled it out to take a closer look. The syringe was empty. I pulled the sheet from under the mare and wrapped it carefully around her neck to stop the resulting bleeding. The syringe floated onto the desk.

I pressed my ear to her chest, and found her heart still beating, although at an unnaturally slow pace. Her eyes still closed, the mare opened her mouth and gasped for air. For a moment, I thought she had woken up, but she made no further movements. I looked at the mare's cutie mark, attempting to identify her. The picture of an icicle rang no bells, however.

It was then that I noticed the most frightening thing. Crawling up the bare floor by the bed, there was a new shadow.

I turned around in an instant, preparing a knockdown spell. The dim light from the other room silhouetted a large earth pony standing in the doorway. The massive stallion had to lower his head a little to fit through when he walked inside. He then looked at me and smiled.

“Pay no attention to that mare on the bed,” he spoke in a calm, deep voice. “Miss Day is quite alright.”

“Who are you?” I asked, ready to fire.

“What a rude thing to ask,” he said, “considering that it was you who came to me.” He ran his tongue about in his mouth, as if licking his teeth. “Although, I am glad you made it. I was beginning to wonder if I lit all those candles for nothing.”

He put up a hoof, revealing a piece of paper. The missing letter, no doubt.

“Rainy Day,” he began reading it out, “We hereby assign you to, blah blah blah, deal with the undead menace as per our previous instructions, hmm-mm, pay a visit to agent Twilight Sparkle and await further instructions.” He looked up at me inquisitively. “Twilight Sparkle, I assume?”

“You did not answer my question,” I said, my horn glowing bright.

“Oh, please, Miss Sparkle, look at this place.” He gestured at the old walls and the cracked ceiling. “You're not going to fire that spell indoors, are you?”

“Try me.”

“Very well, if you truly feel so threatened by my presence as to be unable to have a normal conversation, allow me to make this easier for you.”

The stallion then turned his back towards me. His coat was dark grey, almost black but not quite. In stark contrast to this was his bright white mane, running down all the way from his forehead to the base of his neck and kept at a fashionable medium-length. His cutie mark looked like some sort of glowing lantern, or an oil lamp, perhaps. Its design seemed incredibly dated, like something out of a history book. Although I'd venture to guess that he looked roughly twice my age, such a cutie mark still seemed off.

“Better?” he asked, sitting down and turning only his head back to look at me.

“Face forward,” I said. “I'm going to ask you one more time. Who are you?”

“My name is Omen,” he answered, still looking me defiantly in the eye. “I don't believe that tells you much, though.”

The built-up energy in my horn faded away, its glowing receding. The letter was quickly snatched out of Omen's hooves and flew before me. Information in it was scarce, but it did confirm my suspicions. The mare on the bed must have been one Rainy Day, apparently another agent of Night Shift. Her job in Ponyville was twofold. For one, she would have to contact me; what message she had been asked to relay was a mystery.

Her other task was much more worrying, however. It appeared that Luna had received information from yet another agent regarding the cemetery. She wrote of a cult that had a long history of practising dark magic and claimed that on that very night, the dead would rise from their graves across Equestria. Among the list of settlements affected was my beloved Ponyville. More troubling was the fact that the letter lacked any instructions on actually solving the matter. As this “Omen” had read it out, the letter contained only a mention of “previous instructions.”

I looked up at the stallion again. He raised an eyebrow. His face bore the faintest hint of a smile.

“Children of the Night?” I asked. “You're all insane. Nightmare Moon is dead. You cannot bring her back.”

“Must you jump to conclusions?” Omen rolled his eyes. “You find a sedated mare and a letter talking about cultists bringing the dead back to life, and your first assumption upon seeing a particularly handsome stallion is that he must be one of the crazies?”

“Aren't you?”

“I shudder at the suggestion. The very name sends shivers down my spine. Not out of fear, mind.” He grinned. “I can assure you, my arrival here on this particular night is a mere unlucky coincidence.” He paused for a moment. “I did incapacitate Miss Day, though, just to get that off my chest.”

“Do elaborate.”

“It may be hard to believe, but I am also one of Luna's many acquaintances, just like you and she are.”

Is he implying that he's an agent as well? “You're lying.”

“I know what you're thinking right now. Luna only recruits unicorns into her precious Night Shift, isn't that right? She is such an old-fashioned mare.”

He was right. While the morality of this practice may sound questionable at first, it is for a good reason. Levitation, teleportation, animation; only a few of the skills that have saved my life countless times in the past. Being unable to master the craft of magic would likely spell death for any agent, and Luna would not take that risk.

“Well,” Omen continued, “suffice to say that Luna and I have a history. I am a, shall we say, different kind of associate.”

“And why should I trust you?” I asked.

“A wonderful question, Miss Sparkle!” He stood up and turned around to face me again. “So wonderful, in fact, that I have two answers for it. First and foremost, if what the letter says is correct, then the graveyard must be crawling with zombies by now. I imagine you need all the help you can get.”

A fair point. Or at least it would have been, had he not just admitted to sedating Rainy Day. “And the second?” I asked.

“Because I have information regarding the death of your parents.”

“What?”

“Indeed, Miss Sparkle. It is a matter about which I would very much like to talk about.”

I kept my eyes set on Omen. The leather bag I had seen under the bed floated up beside me and opened up. I took one quick glance inside, finding nothing but a large roll of dark-blue ribbon.

“This yours?” I asked.

“It was brought by Miss Day,” Omen said. “I don't see how that relates to the issue here, though.”

The purpose of the ribbon I couldn't guess, but if Rainy Day had indeed brought it, I knew it must have been for a reason.

I pointed towards the door. “Face forward.”

“Excuse me, Miss Sparkle, I don't think you're understanding me. Your—”

“Face forward!”

Omen looked at me wilfully for a while. My horn lit up, and then he was quick to turn. “Very well,” he said, walking into the candle-lit room.

The spade that I had seen there floated up and its handle flew for Omen's mouth. It would have knocked some of his teeth out, too, had he not opened his jaw in time to catch it. He turned his head, with the spade in his mouth, clumsily knocking the book off the table. He gave me a questioning look.

“You're going to help me clean up this mess,” I said, “and then you're going to tell me everything you know.”

I pointed to the entrance, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Ladies first,” I said. “Out.”

He wouldn't question my order. He walked outside, and I followed; a small pull of magic closed the front door of the house behind me. Outside, the rain raged strong; it took no longer than a few seconds for the rain to completely soak our fur from head to hoof. I didn't care, though, and from the looks of it, neither did Omen.

“You go ahead. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

“Yes, princess,” Omen mumbled, the thick handle of the spade still in his mouth.

For both our sakes, I decided to ignore that comment. Me, princess. As if.

The hillside path that had led me to the house went on to run through the cemetery. Surrounded by tall metal fencing and opening at a large double-gate, the cemetery itself seemed like a perfect prison for the reanimated dead. It was dark, out of the way, and most importantly, the concept of doors and gates completely escaped the average zombie. Considering how I wasn't hearing any groaning from inside the cemetery, and neither were there any screams echoing from Ponyville below, there were two possibilities: either the letter had been fabricated by none other than dear Omen, or the apocalypse had not yet started.

With some concentration, I created an orb of light to follow us above. Its white light scattered in the rain, creating an eerie lightshow.

The ornate gates screeched loudly as metal scraped against rust. Once we entered the cemetery, I closed the gate carefully. A dirt road—or mud road by now, rather—ran all the way up to the crest of the hill. Every few steps, smaller paths branched off perpendicularly in both directions. The graves between these paths gave the cemetery an orderly, gridlike layout.

I sent Omen forward on the main road, up the hill, to see if he would attract any brain-hungry residents. I followed up behind him, just close enough to be able to see him through the rain.

I looked downhill at the cemetery. “Say, Omen, where are those zombies?”

They say words have magical powers. I've also been told that I have a very special way with words. I pondered this conundrum as the earth began shaking under my hooves and muffled groans sounded from the soaked graves in every direction.

“So tell me, Miss Sparkle,” Omen said, spitting the spade out, “how do you propose we do this? I can't see a pretty lady like you bursting skulls open to knock their brains around.”

What an odd and potentially dangerous stallion. Still, he hit the nail on the head; damaging the brain was the surefire method of disabling a zombie for good. Not this time, however.

“That's not what we're going to do. We are going to avoid any unnecessary damage to the bodies at all cost. You got that?”

“Only gentle whacks with the spade, then?” he asked as he flipped the instrument into his mouth again.

“Yes. Crack a skull, and I'm going to crack yours,” I said.

“How droll,” he chortled. “Don't you want me to tell you about—”

“Focus on the task,” I interrupted.

By this time, I could see the first of the zombies crawling from their graves, sticking their dirty, shrivelled hooves into fresh air for the first time since their death. They wandered aimlessly between the gravestones, paying no notice to Omen or myself.

“Can you whistle?” I asked.

“But of course.”

“Then do it,” I commanded, throwing the leather bag onto the ground. “As loud as you can.”

Omen looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Then he looked downhill at the stumbling corpses and took a deep breath. The whistle he let loose almost made my eardrums burst. When he stopped, the zombies' heads were all turned towards us. Eyeless sockets, missing jaws and rotten skin stared at us. The heavy rain, pouring into their every pore, served only to amplify the stench.

“Go, Omen!” I shouted over the deafening rain. “Charge!”

“What? You want me to to—”

“Draw their attention, yes. Make sure they're on you and not me.”

“Have you lost your mind, Miss Sparkle?”

A faint gust of magic lifted him momentarily from the ground.

“Do it,” I told him, “or I'll throw you in there myself.”

Reluctantly, he began walking down the slippery road.

The zombies were quick to jump him. A decomposing mare cried out and her shrieks echoed with the rain. She dragged her tattered burial dress in the mud as she rushed at Omen, who responded with a kick to her side. Other zombies shambled slowly, slipping and tripping as they moved in his direction. One broke a leg just trying to stand up. Omen held his ground, and I joined the battle as well.

Zombies groaned, Omen huffed and metal clanged. Hulking beasts of bloated, rotting meat and muscle trudged towards us from all around. The fresher ones were faster than the rest; occasionally, we'd have one run at us at full speed.

Omen wielded his spade with surprising skill. For having to move it about in his mouth, he never failed to deliver just the right blow: powerful enough to knock one down or away, weak enough not to shatter bone. When his spade was not enough, he did not hesitate to throw a kick or two, his long legs moving swiftly and precisely. Yet what I found more interesting was his expression. A constant, teethy grin sat on his face, as if he enjoyed battling the endless horde.

As much as I appreciated the simplicity with which he dealt with the undead, my methods of combat were perhaps a little more refined than his. My orb of light flew swiftly in the air, coming above a zombie for a moment before moving on to another, both distracting them and letting me have a clearer overview of the cemetery.

After blasting a zombie away with a kinetic missile, I levitated another up to throw at a third, sending all three of them tumbling helplessly down the hill. Tired sinews snapped and old bones crumbled. I felt sorry for all of them, and I tried my best not to cause any further damage. The zombies, however, didn't care. They trotted, walked, shambled, and crawled as they could with no regard to pain.

“Don't let them bite you!” I called out to Omen as I levitated somepony's grandfather into the air.

“I figured as much,” he replied, planting his spade in a granny's face. “I wouldn't want to become one of them.”

I set a zombie on a downward path along the muddy slide. “I don't think that would happen here, actually.”

“No?” Omen asked, knocking out two incoming zombies' legs from under them with one sweep. “Why shouldn't they bite me then?”

“Because it hurts, Omen.”

“Touché!”

We spent a long time like this, enduring the rain as we knocked down the zombies, and then again when they stood up. I recognised them as a product of basic necromancy; these undead creatures were completely mindless, going for anything that wasn't a zombie and made a sound.

“Tell me,” Omen said as he kicked off a ragged one. “Is this your plan? Are we going to keep doing this until somepony drops dead? Because they won't.”

“I know how the living dead work, Omen,” I said. “But learning not to desecrate the dead, whatever form they may take, is one of the first things Luna teaches us.”

“Please, Miss Sparkle.” He stopped fighting to look at me with an incredulous expression. “It's the walking dead.” He turned back to bash his spade into a zombie's face. “The living dead would be the vampires.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Walking dead, living dead, it's all the same. They're all dead, that's what matters.”

“Of course,” he responded, paying special attention to sound condescending.

I may have accidentally thrown a zombie right at him just after that.

Think, Twilight, think. After a while, I barely even noticed the ongoing smash-'em-up around myself. I sank into my thoughts. Why would Luna send another agent here to deal with this? Why not just tell me? I knocked a charging zombie over. Did she think I'd be unable to handle this myself? Was she really so disappointed in me? Omen kicked a zombie in my direction. A tuft of magic caught it mid-air and yanked it right back. Who is this Omen? Is he a cultist? He knows too much about Night Shift for that. Does he really know Luna? Or did he break Rainy Day to get that information before sedating her? And my parents....

“I would hate to sound ungrateful for this chance you've given me to prove myself,” Omen said again, interrupting my train of thought, “but this is getting ridiculous!” His movements were getting stronger and he kept applying more and more force in his swings and kicks. He was getting impatient, and I couldn't decide whether that fact was for the better or worse.

Luna would never tell an agent to hurt the corpses. So how can we stop them now? It's impossible... unless! I finally realised what Rainy Day had been sent here to do. Her black bag flew up to me and I flicked its straps open. The roll of blue ribbon waited for me inside. Engulfed in purple glow, it floated outside. I took a good look at it. I had noted earlier just how long a strip it was; the roll itself was almost as big as my own head. Yet what interested me more right now was whether I could find something written on it to indicate its purpose.

And there, at the dangling end of the roll, were two words written in black ink. No wonder I hadn't seen it when I so hastily peeked into the bag back in the house. The ribbon read “To Containment.” That was exactly what I was looking for. I unrolled a short stretch of ribbon and tugged at it from two directions. It's a lot stronger than it seems, I noted. The rain didn't soak it, either, the drops instead rolling right off without sinking into the material. Perfect.

“Hold it down!” I shouted to Omen as he wrestled a zombie. “Keep its neck straight.”

And so Omen did, without question. I suppose he felt glad that something was finally happening. Lit up by my magic, the roll of ribbon circled around the zombie's neck and unrolled a stretch, wrapping tightly around the it.

“Good,” I said, “now onto the rest. We're tying them all together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Omen replied, nodding his head once. “It's not just for decoration, I assume?”

“And don't you dare tear the ribbon!”

By using Omen's trusty spade, and with some help from my magic, we were able to keep the zombies tightly tied together, connected closely to one another by the long ribbon. Some had it on their necks, others were wrapped in around their chests, yet others we tied by their hooves, whichever seemed most convenient at the time. We herded this increasingly long chain of walking dead bodies into a single spot; they wiggled and pushed at one another, each trying to get out and move. Tangled up as they were, however, such goals were beyond their capabilities.

The roll of ribbon kept unrolling as we added more zombies to the growing pile. In time, we had used it all; in time, we had collected all the deceased ponies in that cemetery that managed to climb from their graves.

We stood there, halfway up the hill, in the middle of the cemetery. Before us, basking in the magical spotlight of my design, was an enormous mass of zombies, connected to one another by the longest blue ribbon you can imagine. They stumbled and tripped over each other clumsily as they tried to move towards us. Whenever one of the slipped in the mud, it brought all the rest down with them like a line of dominoes.

In spite of all the horrible stories involving the dead rising that I had read in my foalhood, I could only think of this as an amusing sight. I looked over to Omen for a moment. He was a safe distance away from me, smiling as well. Then again, I don't think he ever stopped. This smile, though, had a little more in it than the simple playfulness that I've got used to seeing. Looking at our work, he seemed proud, if also a bit puzzled.

“I still have no idea what we just did,” he said, turning to me.

“Just you watch,” I replied.

I closed my eyes and concentrated at the very end of the ribbon, wrapped around the neck of the very first zombie we caught this way. A tiny spark was enough. I opened my eyes in time to see the ribbon burst into flames, erupting with a volley of greenish sparks. Even the rain wouldn't stop it.

For this long ribbon was of the same material that I use to bind my letters; burn it, and whatever you had wrapped in it will be sent flying to a specific location. In the case of my letters, that place would be Princess Luna's study. Awaiting these poor things, however, was something much less homely. Built within the very depths of Canterlot's mountainside, deeper than the crystal mines themselves, was what is known to Night Shifters simply as Containment. Field agents, like myself, could only ever hear stories about the facility; they spoke of magical vaults sealing away dragons and demons, of Night Shift's magitech scientists performing autopsies on strange bipedal beings and vivisecting werewolves.

I always laughed at such assumptions. Luna formed Night Shift not long after her return to Equestria. Even if the construction of Containment had begun right away, such a massive facility would still be far from complete. Whatever grain of truth there was to the fantastic tales, Luna also saw to it that they remain a mystery. All I could know for certain is that the place exists, and that I had just sent them a horde of mindless zombies to be re-deadified.

The fire trailed along the entire length of the ribbon, and when it reached a zombie, the creature would burst into a thousand pieces. Like fireworks, the glowing pieces flew into the sky, still shimmering with a radiant deep-green. There was no blood, no guts or gore, only the brilliant flames. The fire reached the second zombie, and then third, fourth. One by one, all of them disappeared, each leaving us in a lustrous explosion of green and red.

I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. I held it in for a while, appreciating the clean air. Then I exhaled, sighing, mentally patting myself on the back for a job well done.

Crisis averted.

“So, Miss Sparkle,” Omen's voice came from right beside me, making me jump. “Remind me, why hasn't this revolutionised transportation yet?”

“Because the ribbon material is extremely hard and expensive to produce,” I answered. “That roll we just used up? It was three times as much as I had ever seen in my entire life.”

“I would also assume that things don't usually come out alive on the other end.”

“No,” I said. “It's impossible to transfer a living being like this.”

“My point exactly,” he said with a smile.

I was puzzled by the statement for a moment. Then the realisation hit me, and I shook my head as I chuckled to myself. “Walking dead, right,” I said, admitting defeat.

“Well,” he continued, “I have done as you asked. I helped you sort out the undead menace. All I ask in return is that you listen to what I have to say.”

“Oh no,” I corrected him, “you don't get to make requests. You see, I have every intention of taking you in as somepony who clearly knows too much. I bet Luna would love to find out how.”

“But I've already told you. I know Luna.”

“Nopony knows Luna,” I retorted.

Omen sat silently for a while, staring me in the eye. I don't think he even blinked once.

“Don't you want to know about your parents?” he asked.

“Don't you dare mention my parents.”

There was a gust of wind, and the rain became stronger than ever. Although Omen was right in front of me, I could barely see him. He, on the other hoof, didn't even flinch at the sudden burst of heavy downpour.

“The papers were full of it,” he said. “Twilight Velvet, mother of two, begins seeing a lover. Her loving husband, Night Light finds out—”

“Shut up,” I whispered. I don't think he heard me.

“He snaps. He finds the two of them, takes a knife from the kitchen and—”

“Shut up!” I yelled inarticulately, blasting him away with a massive burst of magic.

He landed in the mud with a splash, the rain burying him further. I walked up to him and watched him struggle to get up as he hissed in pain from the impact.

“D-dont you understand?” he stammered, slipping as he tried to stand up again. “I want to help you find out who did it.”

“I know who did it,” I whispered, clenching my teeth in an attempt to restrain myself from hurting him further. “I found them, you know. All three of them, caked in blood on the bedroom floor. Was that not in the papers?”

“And then what did you do, Miss Sparkle?” he asked, finally standing up.

“I tried to find out who did it,” I said. “So did my brother.”

“Ah,” he said victoriously, “but didn't you just say you knew who did it?”

I stepped back. My hind legs went numb. I sat down onto the ground. “I couldn't believe it,” I admitted. “My mother...” I choked on my words. “Mum and dad would never. They aren't....”

“What did you find, Miss Sparkle?”

“Walls, everywhere,” I replied. “I was stonewalled on all fronts. Yet I kept looking.”

“But Night Shift found you sooner than you found them,” he said. “Isn't that right?”

“Luna sought me out. She offered me a spot.”

“But you haven't answered the most important question yet. What did you find?”

“I found Night Shift.”

“And what did Night Shift find?” Omen asked.

“They had already investigated the case,” I said. “It was exactly what it looked like. Luna told me personally.” I stayed silent for a moment, reflecting on my past years. “I've barely even slept since.”

At that point, I was no longer looking at Omen, but right through him. He walked out of view. I either didn't even notice, or I didn't care enough to move a muscle. It's hard to tell in hindsight.

As I sat there, paralysed by memory, the rain finally stopped. The constant sound of raindrops blasting the wet ground was replaced by a ringing my my ears. It figures the rain would stop now, right after we're done. I could only commend the weather-engineers of Cloudsdale; they sure did have their timing down pat. The clouds above dissipated in a matter of moments, letting in the bright light of the Moon and the stars.

The orb of light that had been following me about in the air descended and its glow lost much of its intensity. There was no further need for such strong light.

“They say that dark times are coming,” came Omen's voice from behind me.

I turned around to see Omen sitting not far downhill in the mud, looking at the sleeping Ponyville below. I walked down to him and sat by his side.

“What can you tell me?” I asked.

“I have a large number of, what should I call them... acquaintances. And they all have been telling me the same thing for a long time now. Dark times are coming.”

“What does that mean?”

“I always chalked it up to being nothing more than insane, meaningless end-of-the-world talk. Doom, gloom, the usual.”

I nodded. “We always have that.”

“But things are changing.” He turned his head to the side, towards the great mountains up North, where the spires of Canterlot stood pristine against the black horizon. “And it's all pointing towards the great city.”

“I still don't understand what this has to do with my parents.”

He turned his head towards me. “It's when it started. They were the first.”

I shot him a questioning look. “The first?”

“Because of all this talk of Canterlot, I decided to have a look for myself. After some investigation and collecting a few old debts, I found something very troubling.”

I cocked my head in response.

“Ever since the death of your parents, may they rest in peace, ponies have been going missing. They simply vanish. It's like they disappear into thin air, leaving only rummaged homes behind. Not a single note, not one word to their friends or family.” He looked back towards the city for a moment, then again at me. “And it's no coincidence that you haven't read about this in the papers.”

I could barely believe a word. “Are you suggesting that they're being murdered?”

“Precisely,” he said, nodding his head. “I couldn't find a discernible pattern behind the string of disappearances, but they've definitely been happening. They still are. And there is one more thing.”

“What is it?” I leaned closer.

“Our dear Princess Luna always gets involved.”

“No.” I sat back. “No way.”

“Haven't you Night Shifters noticed anything unusual happening in our lovely capital? Anything that doesn't quite add up?”

The vampire Vinyl Scratch's mention of “bad blood” sprung to mind. Thinking of it, I haven't heard Luna respond on the matter.

“Nothing at all,” I said.

Omen looked piercingly in my eyes and lifted a brow. I stood his stare.

“You aren't an easy mare to work with, Miss Sparkle.” He sighed. “But you have to face the facts. There are strange things out there, more and even stranger than before. You have to see that. Doomsday cults have been expanding, talking about a new age of darkness. They are much more fickle than they have been before.” He gestured at the ruined graves around us. “As shown by the attached figure.”

“I have no reason to trust you.”

“Is there anything I can do to change that?”

“Let's take it from the top, then,” I said. “Omen sure is a sorry name for a pony. What is your real name?”

He frowned at my question, clearly not pleased. But then he looked up, chuckling quietly. “Now that, Miss Sparkle,” he said as he turned back towards me, “that would be telling.”

“Very well, Omen.” I nodded. “Let me phrase my question a little differently. Who are you?”

“I've lost track of how many times I've been asked that question,” he said, putting a muddy hoof to his chin.

“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “Quit the act. You aren't that old.”

“Aren't I?” he asked with a cheeky grin. “I'm older than I look, you know.”

“Who are you?” I repeated impatiently.

“I am many things to many ponies,” he said. “Right now, first and foremost, I am concerned. For you, and for Princess Luna.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Are you trying to imply that Luna is behind the murders? You really think Nightmare Moon is about to return?”

“No,” he answered. “That would make me insane, wouldn't it? Yet I do not dismiss the possibility. You know what they say about things which can eternal lie.”

“You're insane,” I deduced. “What about Rainy Day?”

“As terrible as I feel about what I did to her, it was necessary. I couldn't allow some other agent of Luna's snooping around before I met you. I wouldn't want to be seen by anypony but yourself, I hope you understand that.”

“What's going to happen to her, now that you had your chance to talk to me?”

“She's going to wake up, approximately in sixteen hours, at a warm and cosy room of the Manehatten Hospital, unaware of what happened tonight.”

“And tell me: if you've already found out all this without my help, why come to me now?”

“Simply because I cannot progress further. You, on the other hoof? I may not know you, but I do know of you, Miss Sparkle. You're Celestia's personal student, one of Luna's top agents, and the bearer of the Element of Magic. You can get where I can't.”

“Suppose, just for a second, that I believe anything you just told me, Omen. What would you have me do?”

“All I can ask is that you continue pursuing this matter to the best of your ability,” he answered.

“Then consider the following. What if I tell Luna about everything that transpired? About Rainy Day, about you and your accusations? What if I don't believe you?”

“Don't you?”

By the time I got home, it was already dawning. I fiddled with the lock for a while before I remembered that I hadn't locked the door in the first place. The library's door creaked open. I bucked it closed as I walked inside.

Tiny specks of dried mud fell from my coat with every step. I shook myself, casting small drops of water in all directions from my mane. The scar on my right cheek hurt. I couldn't tell whether I was only paying more attention to the pain at that moment, or if it had managed to get infected. I didn't care either way. My legs felt like lead. Yet I dragged them forward.

Spike woke up just as I passed him. The sound of my hooves repeatedly slamming at the wooden floor must have been the cause. I began walking up the stairs.

“Twilight?” I heard Spike call, yawning as he did. “W-what happened?” he stuttered, clearly still half-asleep.

“I fell down the stairs,” I spouted, locking the door of my room behind myself.

Lavender Unicorn Syndrome, part 1

Chapter 6:
Lavender Unicorn Syndrome, part 1

The quiet town of Horsmouth was located in the North-Western corner of Equestria. It was cut off from the rest of the land by the mountain range known as the Teeth on one side, and bordered by the vast ocean to the West on the other.

The town, home to no more than a few hundred ponies, had no Night Shift history to speak of. In fact, this had been the first time I'd ever heard of its existence. As such, it came as no surprise that the Equestrian Railway wasn't connected to the town. The nearest stop was in the similarly small Stutencröe, lying at the foot of the Teeth which separated the two communities. Stutencröe was one of the northernmost Germane settlements of Western Equestria, and it was as close as Canterlotian influence ever came to Horsmouth.

Tucked away behind the mountains, Horsmouth was, for all the capital cared, autonomous. The townsfolk rarely left their home, and when they did, they mostly ventured no further than Stutencröe.

Now, my task was to brave the heights of the Teeth; to uncover what lies beyond the shadow over Horsmouth.

There is a shadow over Horsmouth; that is what the stallion pulling my cart had told me before we departed from Stutencröe. It took quite some “persuasion” to get the stallion to take me there. How fortunate, I thought, that Luna didn't suspend my funding.

The cart was an aged thing, having succumbed to rot a long time ago. I found myself bouncing on the dirty wood of my seat with the smallest bump of the old mountainside road. Adding to my unease was the staggering height at which we were treading. There seemed to be no gradual descent in the mountains; anywhere I looked, all I saw were the steep, endless lines of valleys swirling around the needle-like mountaintops. One wrong step on the puller's part would have sent the cart and me hurtling down into a most unbecoming end. I held onto my black saddlebag nervously.

Still, considering all of that, I thought myself lucky, for at least I had somepony pulling my cart. I knew that a stallion who draws carriages for a living would get me to Horsmouth much faster than if I had gone on hoof. A petite young lady such as myself was not cut out for such a long trek, after all, and I definitely didn't want to reach the town at night.

As the road circled around the mountain, I could finally see the great ocean beyond. And down there in the mist, where water met the cliffs and lashed at the eroding stone, was the town of Horsmouth. Its decrepit buildings latched desperately onto the mountainside so as not to fall into the abyss below.

The town seemed a disorganised mess of buildings sprouting outwards from the cliffs, grabbing onto each other and climbing one another so as to stay up. Each house was connected to its neighbours by wooden roads, bridges and makeshift stairs built of blackened planks that crept along the mountain, rickety and creaky, covering the bare rocks. The town, it seemed, was held together only by rusted nails and good prayers.

Looking down from the road as we travelled, I saw what I collected must be the town centre. A circular, oddly level portion of the mountainside was covered by what seemed to be wooden flooring. It was as if a portion of the mountain had been scooped away with a precise cut, then the scar bandaged with the town's defining planking. Squinting my eyes, I thought I saw through the enveloping mist what appeared to be a crowd of ponies standing in that town square; the cause of the commotion I couldn't tell.

A noticeable bump signalled our official arrival to the town as the wheels of the cart rolled onto the shaky wooden planks. The Stutencröen stallion that had so dutifully took me there then stopped dead in his tracks. He was visibly jittery and trembled as he looked at the ancient buildings of Horsmouth. I didn't drag out his torture; after I paid him good bits for his trouble, he left without so much as looking back, throwing only a quick “danke” my way.

How strange, I thought. By the time he makes it home, it'll be long past nightfall. And still he'd rather spend his evening walking home alone, rather than by staying in Horsmouth for the night.

The Germanes were known for their superstitiousness and how much faith they had in old legends. On one hoof, I wanted to shrug off his worries as the effects of an overzealous belief in the irrational and a natural fear of the unknown; on the other, however, I knew better than to assume that there was no basis in reality for whatever devilish gossips the Stutencröe folk whispered about the town.

If there was one thing I'd learned in my time with Night Shift, it's that if you hear tales of a monster stalking the unwary at night, there might just be one out there.

It was late in the afternoon, and the ever-present mist, along with the slowly but surely declining Sun, made for a gloomy ambience in Horsmouth. Indeed, if there was only one word which I could have used to describe the town, it would have been “grey.” The deep-browns of the buildings and roads did little to liven the bleak mountainside. I whipped my saddlebag around my back and set out for the strange town.

As I walked along the deserted streets, I paid special attention not to look down. While on one side the looming Teeth towered above me, all I could see on the other was the endless water reaching out beyond the horizon. Separating me from the depths was but the rotten—and sometimes outright missing—railing that sprouted from the plank-roads, which themselves seemed ready to collapse at any given moment.

Looking at the antiquated architecture with all its iron-padded windowsills and old-fashioned tile roofs, I felt as if I had left my own time and entered the previous century, or perhaps the one before that. Long-corroded weather vanes cranked horribly atop crumbling homes, and even today I can clearly recall the distinct, unabating smell of wet wood that pervaded every alley.

Trying to find my way to the gathering that I had seen from above, I wondered what it was that Luna hoped I'd accomplish in Horsmouth. I hopped from one squeaky panel to the next, getting around a corner to finally come in view of the town square. The crowd was still there. Yet what drew my attention was what I saw at the centre.

A wagon of sorts was parked smack in the middle of the area. The walls were painted in a gleeful yellow, and the pitched roof on top was bright red. Laid out before its gilded wheels was a makeshift stage whose wood was in excellent condition. As if I needed any more clues to tell that this thing wasn't from around here.

In fact, the more I looked at the composition, the more it seemed to remind me of something I had seen before.

“Come one, come all!”

I thought I recognised the voice that emanated ominously from that house on wheels, that endlessly haughty tone, the unabashed hubris. I stopped in my tracks, taking a deep breath, refusing to believe it. Perhaps if I don't accept it, it'll go away. Oh, will I ever learn?

“Come and witness the amazing magicks—”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

In a puff of smoke and light, the mare herself appeared, wearing her trademark grin.

The fireworks and spell-explosions that followed were obviously meant to get the audience stirred in anticipation of what was to come. Being, seemingly, the one pony who knew all about what was to come, they had the exact opposite effect on me.

The crowd, on the other hoof, was much more impressed than I was. They clapped and whistled cheerfully. As I made my way to them and pushed a few ponies aside getting to the front, I noticed that there wasn't a single horn to be seen, save for mine and Trixie's. Have these ponies never seen a unicorn before? No wonder, then, that they were so enraptured.

Trixie was dressed in her recognisable attire of a witch's hat and collar-cape adorned by mismatched pictures of colourful stars. She pranced around the stage, waving her hooves erratically in the air in motions designed to entrap and entice the uneducated masses. Her horn spewed forth sparks and more puffs of light to complete the act.

Standing first in line, I was able to best “enjoy” the legerdemain and hocus-pocus performed by the busted boaster.

“Watch in awe as the great and powerful Trixie performs the most spectacular feats of magic ever witnessed by pony eyes!”

Well, that's another way to put it.

The crowd ooohed and aaahed at Trixie's proclamation, clearly eager in their anticipation.

Yet the situation begged the question: why is she here? Indeed, Trixie could hardly have picked a place worse than Horsmouth to acquire her long sought-after fame. Or had I, perhaps, humiliated her so much in Ponyville, all those years ago, as to make her flee this far? Surely I'm not that intimidating.

Trixie waved her hooves again, and in a small glimmer of light, she conjured up a bouquet of flowers mid-air. Then, after taking the flowers into her hooves for a moment, she cast them away, each disappearing in its own little flash of blue glow.

The crowd cheered in response, stomping on the ground with their front hooves to clap for the magician on stage. I sighed deeply.

I may have sighed a bit too loudly, in fact, as I saw Trixie's ear twitch a little. Her eyes began scanning the crowd, looking for the source of the sound that threatened to burst her ballooning ego.

“What was that?” she asked, standing up defiantly on her hind legs. “Who is so ignorant as to challenge—”

And then she saw me.

Her mouth was left hanging agape. The look of complete and utter confusion in her eyes as she stood there, balancing clumsily on two hooves, is a cherished memory of mine to this day. After a short moment, however, her mouth formed a teethy grin.

“It seems serendipity is a friend of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she announced proudly, looking me straight in the eye.

The light-pink glow of Trixie's magic quickly surrounded me, and before I knew it, I was standing on stage, right beside the showstopper.

“Who would've thought that in the distant town of Horsmouth, the Great and Powerful Trixie would find her long-lost friend!” she yelled loudly, posing and motioning towards me as more fireworks and sparks flew up to explode in the air.

On cue, the crowd cheered.

“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth.

“Behold, ladies and gentlecolts, Trixie's faithful assistant!” she yelled at the top of her lungs amidst a cavalcade of lights and flashes. “Sparky Starbutt!”

“What?!”

Out of nowhere, a small red ball of some kind appeared before me, and before I could react, it flew straight for me. A sharp sting of pain rushed through my body as the ball collided with my face. Quickly wiping my eyes clean of the resulting tears, I saw that the ball had been stuck onto my nose.

Trixie had turned me into a clown, much to the audience's amusement.

“Stop it!” I screamed.

I attempted to pick the ball off, but my hooves seemed to pass straight through, unable to touch the thing; it stood as thin as air.

A quick flash of light disoriented me. When the colourful cloud of smoke faded, I found myself fully clothed in what seemed to be a mix between a shower curtain and a ragged mattress, elegantly crafted into a most undignified dress.

I had, at this point, just about enough of Trixie's foal-like antics. Should I just hold her down, I wondered, and humiliate her in front of everypony again? Or should I simply blast her off the stage? I had many options. Yet, for now, I still vowed to attempt to settle this in a peaceful way. While I had no qualms about teaching her another lesson, I hesitated with stooping down to her level by engaging in a petty “magic duel.”

Trixie looked me over and grinned, moving her eyebrows up and down challengingly. I walked closer to her, gathering willpower to talk to her politely.

“Trixie, please—”

No use. As soon as I opened my mouth, Trixie used her own magic to teleport to the far end of the stage. She tilted her head to the side and flicked an ear at me.

“What's that?” she asked. “The Great and Powerful Trixie cannot hear little Starbutt!”

After a deep breath—doing my best to keep my eye on Trixie and ignore the cackling crowd—I channelled magic and teleported to her side, still determined not to tear her limb from limb. Upon arrival, however, I was greeted by but large a red cloth that tangled around me as I materialised. Throwing the thing off, I saw that Trixie was standing at the exact spot where I had stood before my spell. The red cloak was now floating beside her, and she waved it teasingly in the air like a matador anticipating a charging bull.

Our spectators were about as amused as she was, bursting with laughter.

My eyes may have been twitching at this point; my memory is a bit clouded, I confess. Still, keeping cool, I took a slow step forward. Trixie raised an eyebrow. I took another long, calculated step, inching closer to her with unbroken eye contact. When I lifted a hoof again, a violent flash of light blinded me. I felt blunt impacts on my back and sides, and became completely disoriented for a few seconds. When I regained my sight and the colourful smoke cleared, I found myself lying face down on the stage, and I could feel Trixie's hooves stomping on me as she stood triumphantly on top of me.

“Thank you! Thank you!” she said to the cheering audience.

She blew kisses with a hoof, sparks and rose petals flying out after each smooch. My legs ached too much to push her off physically, and I was still delirious by being thrown around. Furious as I was, I conceded defeat. Clearly, deciding not to play was not the winning move. And as much as I hated to admit it, I could only admire her exceptionally fast teleportation abilities. I would never have thought she could do that.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Trixie's head descending slowly. For another bout of snappy one-liners, no doubt.

“Look at them,” she whispered, barely audible above the crowd's cheering.

“Look at who?!” I snapped, looking up at her.

I felt Trixie step off from my back, and saw her extend a hoof. I eyed it suspiciously for a second before taking it. Surprisingly enough, she really did help me stand up. I shook my head and my vision clear, and looked at Trixie questioningly.

Slowly, the noise of the audience died down. Silence beset the misty town of Horsmouth once again. A moment before, Trixie had appeared ready to burst in schadenfreudig delight. Now, as her gaze swept the crowd, I saw no sign of the arrogance that I thought to be her lifeblood.

I turned to look toward our audience as well. In a split second, my boiling blood froze over.

Only now did I see. It had been, quite literally, staring me in the face this entire time, yet I was too fixated on Trixie to notice. And, perhaps, the all-engulfing mist also played part in the apparent selectiveness of my vision. The ponies in the crowd, all of them, every earth pony, and even what few pegasi there were...

They were all purple. Anypony I looked at, I saw palette of purples and violets staring back at me. Some were darker, some were lighter, but one thing was very clear: they were all equally sick.

Their eyes were the worst. What should have been white was instead a dark shade of lavender, darker still than their violet manes and coats, sometimes almost completely black. One could scarcely make out where the iris began. And their expressions! That vapid gaze with which they looked at us horrified me. They blinked at irregular intervals, sometimes only one eye and sometimes both, but with a small delay between the right and left.

They licked their lips and they drooled, discoloured saliva hanging from their chins in sticky strands as they made their darkened, rotting teeth bare in their smiles. They fidgeted about in place, shifting weight from one broken-up hoof to another, and they chuckled quietly to themselves with a horrible, rattling laugh perhaps more similar to coughing. Indeed, they weren't in pain. At least, they didn't seem to be. They were all so happy, so overjoyed to be able to witness the show.

When I finally managed to get my eyes off the terrifying sight, I looked back at Trixie with newfound horror. When she spoke, gone was the insolent audacity that had been so prevalent in her voice.

“I knew Luna would be sending help,” she said. “Figures it turns out to be you.”

Trixie insisted that she showed me around town. She dispelled the illusions of the “dress” and clown-nose, and after clearing the stage of props, we left the crowd behind.

How she could bear prancing around in that ridiculous wizard cape and hat all day was beyond me.

I quickly came to miss the wide space of the town square, however. Although Trixie kept a few steps ahead, the narrowness of the makeshift plank-roads that spanned the town still made us get uncomfortably close to each other; something that got exceedingly awkward whenever Trixie decided to climb a set of stairs in front of me. Carrying my bag around on the slopes was rather wearisome as well.

“How long?” I asked.

“Longer than you,” she said. “I was one of the first agents.”

“How did you become an agent, anyway?”

“How did you?”

Well, there was that thing with my parents dying....

“I'd rather not talk about that,” I said.

“And I forgot,” she replied.

Point taken.

“It's very clever, though,” I said. “You use the whole travelling magician schtick to go wherever Luna sends you, isn't that right?”

“Observant as ever.” She nodded. “And I was doing just the same in Ponyville. Before you and your... special friends lured that Ursa Major into town.”

“Ursa Minor.”

She groaned. “Oh, yes, of course, how could I forget? Thanks to those two boyscouts, my cover was blown. Or destroyed, more like. I couldn't stay in town any longer, and, needless to say, that parasprite infestation I was sent to fix was left unchecked.” She exhaled deeply. “I do take satisfaction in knowing that you had to deal with that later, though,” she added sassily.

“After everything you just put me through, you still felt the need to rub that one in, didn't you?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

By this time we have made quite the distance from the town square, although perhaps less horizontally and more vertically. After a final set of stairs, we seemed to have emerged at the highest part of town, at a portion of the mountain where the slopes were gentle enough to safely stand on.

Below, I saw the entirety of the town, laid out along the steep slopes. The town square was in plain sight as well. Interestingly, much of the audience was still there, even though the show had ended long ago. They just stood there, staring at the empty stage. I wondered if they even realised that we were gone.

Not far from Trixie and I was what appeared to be a playground; sets of swings and see-saws stood wedged into the rocky cliff. Trixie walked up to the composition and I followed curiously. She pushed one of the swings gently. Its rusty chains rattled and made an infernal screeching, but the swing, aged as it was, seemed to hold.

“Tell me, have you noticed anything strange about the crowd down there?” Trixie asked.

I took another look at the square.

“Apart from the obvious?” I asked. “I noticed there were no unicorns. Looking at them now, I need to ask, why are they still there?”

“They're a slow bunch,” Trixie responded, glancing down at them as well. “I've been putting on the same show every day and they never seemed to notice. If anything, they were getting more into it each time. Looks like they admire repetition. They'll disperse in time, though.”

“What about the lack of unicorns?”

“That's troubling, yes, since the latest Equestrian Census revealed a small unicorn population in town. Still, there is something that I think is even more worrying. Haven't you noticed anything else?”

I shrugged. “Can't say I did.”

Trixie pushed the swing again. The metallic creaking hurt my ears, but Trixie seemed not to even notice. She stared blankly at the swing as its movement gradually slowed and finally stopped.

“You know, Sparky,” she began, “in my tours around Equestria, I've got used to all kinds of audiences coming to see me. It's mostly just ponies, but there have been donkeys and mules, horses, even the occasional griffin. And no matter their race or class, curious folks always have something in common. More often than not, they tend to bring their children.”

Trixie pushed the swing one more time.

“I haven't seen a single foal in this town,” she said.

As I looked at the empty playground around us, the weight of that statement slowly sunk in.

“H-how long have you been in Horsmouth?” I asked.

“Luna received reports of oddities regarding Horsmouth a week ago. I've been here three days, this being the fourth.”

“Does Luna have any idea what happened?”

“She has no clue. Nopony does. I was sent to look around, and I've been told that after a few days another agent would be sent.”

She looked at me, then back at the swing and sighed.

“What are the chances?” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“How did Luna even learn of this place?” I asked, ignoring that little comment. “I don't think anypony ever comes here.”

“That's true,” Trixie replied. “But Horsmouth folk often leave, mostly to visit Stutencröe. They're regulars at the stores. And when a Stutencröen shopkeeper gossipped that disfigured ponies arrived from Horsmouth to buy candles and ropes, the rumours quickly reached Luna's ears.”

“Are you telling me that these, these things, they made the journey to Stutencröe and then managed to return to Horsmouth again? They hardly seemed capable of such a journey to me.”

“Which is why the news is most concerning. You don't even know the worst of it. Come on.”

Trixie stepped away from the swing and began walking in my direction. She passed by me and continued forward until the slopes became too steep to advance further. She leaned forward and stuck her head out as much as she could without tumbling. All the while, I was close behind her.

“There.” She pointed down, towards the edge of Horsmouth. “Can you see it?”

I stood beside her and stuck my head out as well, peeking in the indicated direction.

“I see a waterfall,” I said.

When I squinted just right, I could see a narrow path connecting Horsmouth to the nearby waterfall, which exited the mountainside via a cave. The rushing water cascaded directly into the ocean below.

“There's a river inside the mountain,” Trixie said. “It's where the townsfolk get their water from. You may have seen the wells around town. And that right there...” She pointed at the waterfall. “Is where the river ends.”

I nodded. “Right. But how is this relevant?”

“Every midnight, the citizens, all of them, they walk out of their homes and waltz right up to the waterfall. They disappear inside the cave, and come out a few hours later.”

“What do they do in there?”

“Exactly,” she said, bumping my nose with a hoof. “It's a proper maze in there, and I didn't want to go alone. Now that you're here, we can find out.”

With that, Trixie turned around and began making her way down the mountainside. I followed closely.

“I have a single lead,” Trixie said as she walked. “I thought whatever infected the Horsmouth folk, it was in the water. I've avoided drinking from the wells and I've been just fine. So I sent a small sample to Containment a few days ago, and they were pretty quick with their response. They did find something magical in nature in there, but couldn't tell me anything else.”

“The water was probably enchanted, then,” I said. “Some kind of spell that causes deformities in whoever drinks it.”

“I've actually been thinking that it's something much simpler than that,” Trixie replied. “Ever heard of poison joke?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don't think this is poison joke.”

“Neither do I, really,” she said, “but it could be similar. Some sort of natural magic, a herbal poison. Curing something like that would be much simpler than trying to dispel some evil magic.”

“What makes you think it's like that?”

“I've gone out of my way to inspect the fish and birds around here. They seem fine, even though the river empties right there. I think it's the salt, the salt in the ocean that neutralises whatever agent's in the river.”

“Or, maybe, it's a pony specific spell. Ever thought of that?”

“You can do that?” she asked with genuine surprise in her voice.

“It's magic, Trixie, you can do anything.” I thought about it for a moment. “It would take a powerful unicorn to do on this scale, though. We have to be careful.”

“I still think it's nothing like that.”

“Are you suggesting that we put salt into their drinking water to test your hypothesis, Trixie?”

“Yes,” she answered proudly. Then she paused. “N-no,” she stammered. “Of course not.”

“Thought so.”

By the time we finally reached the town square again, most of the crowd had indeed dispersed, although I could still see a few stragglers around, staring blankly out of their heads. Trixie walked up onto the empty stage and looked at these few ponies, shaking her head in pity.

“It's too bad, really,” she said. “This place really needed some brightening up, something to balance out the greyness. And purple is such a beautiful colour, too.”

I turned to look at her, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow. Trixie looked at me instinctively, then away immediately when she realised what she said. She pulled the brim of her hat over her eyes in an attempt to hide the redness of her face. It was a futile attempt.

“That is so not what I meant,” she grumbled.

She then lifted her head haughtily and hopped off the stage, walking around me and flicking her tail under my nose as she passed by. She wordlessly made her way to the wagon she called her home and fiddled with the lock before throwing its door open. With a motion of a hoof, she beckoned me to the door.

Rolling my eyes, I walked up to her.

“Sorry to disappoint, Trixie,” I chortled as I reached her. “My barn doors just don't swing that way.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that question. Then I looked inside the wagon through the open door. From the outside, the thing had seemed to be just barely spacious enough for a pony to turn around within. Looking in, however, I saw a vast space, at least as big as the library's main floor back in Ponyville. I blinked and rubbed my eyes in bafflement. In the end, I had no choice but to believe what I saw: Trixie's carriage was much larger inside than out.

“'Cause that's a shame, Sparky,” she snarked. “You're welcome in my barn any time.”

I walked inside, and it took a while for me to take it all in. I was in the middle of a proper two-storey building. The lower level, where I presently stood, was a large circular room. I spun around in place, trying to absorb everything around me.

On one side, taking up over a quarter of the level, there was something I can perhaps best describe as a miniature laboratory, with buzzing machinery, wires and tubes leaving and entering the wall, and all kinds of devices lined with buttons and levers whose function I couldn't begin to guess.

Disregarding that magi-technological marvel, the bottom floor was beautifully furnished with masterful woodwork. The floor, smelling of rich mahogany, was covered by a soft carpet of recognisably Manehatten craftsmareship.

Taking up another portion of the space was what I gathered to be a resting area. Two softly padded armchairs sat there, separated by a coffee table, facing a gently blazing fireplace which seemed not to release any smoke. Above the fireplace, a sword was on display. But while unicorn rapiers are usually designed to be lightweight to ease telekinesis and help deliver precision strikes, the weapon on the wall was unusually large and brutish. Upon closer inspection of the etchings on its handle, I realised the sword was in fact a traditional griffin dragonslayer, designed to be physically held by their massive talons.

At the opposite side of the room were a few shelves, some filled with books and some displaying more relics. The books were the first to catch my attention. “Why Do Griffins Hate Hippogriffs?;” “Changeling Anatomy;” “Twenty Signs Your Roommate Might Be a Vampire;” “Why YOU Should Be a Princess;” “The Ins and Outs of Telekinesis;” “The Seven Demons of Buffalo Legend;”... and even another edition of “Fifty Bales of Hay,” along with many others.

I never took Trixie for much of a reader. Indeed, the only thing I had ever taken Trixie for was but a lowly stage magician compensating for her lack of confidence with an unhealthy amount of puppet arrogance. To find out about her like this was humbling, to say the least. I suppose ponies really aren't always what they seem on the surface.

Among the many queer artefacts on the shelves, I recognised a vampire's fang, a werewolf's cloven hoof, and even what I thought to be a changeling's horn. Not far from the shelves was a large chest—labelled simply “weapons”—held closed by an enormous metal lock.

I was almost getting dizzy by how fast I was running about, turning my head back and forth, examining every last thing inside.

“Yeah, well,” Trixie's voice came from behind me, “there's a few upsides to the travelling life. You get to collect all kinds of things. They're my replacement for pony connection.” She let loose a prideful giggle. “Guess Luna cares too much about your friendships in Ponyville to ever send you far, eh?”

The question made me stop.

“Yes,” I said, turning to her. “I suppose that's right.”

But not any more, apparently.

As I didn't want to think about it, I opted to quickly resume my inspection of Trixie's home.

On the upper level of the wagon was what Trixie called her “living quarters.” Although much smaller than the lower level, the upstairs room was still comfortable. A bed, a wardrobe, a mirror on the wall, a table nearby; the simplicity of the room was in stark contrast with the exhibit below.

Walking down the stairs, as I beheld the lower floor one more time, I couldn't help but be filled with a sense of professional admiration towards Trixie. And perhaps a faint shade of jealousy. I hated myself for that; I thought I had grown out of such things by now.

Trixie leaned against the wall by the door, waiting impatiently for me to finish strolling around.

“This is unbelievable,” I said. “Where did you get this? Did you make it yourself?”

“No, of course not,” she said. “It was a gift for my faithful service, courtesy of Luna and straight from Containment. Don't think I could build anything remotely similar if I tried.” She looked at the whirring machinery in the corner for a moment, then back at me. “I did tinker around with what they gave me, though. That room up there? That's all mine.”

“A magitech device that bends space,” I mumbled. “It goes all the way back to Star Swirl! I've read about the theory, but to see it like this... I have no words.”

“It's less useful than it sounds, honestly,” Trixie said. “For now, anyway. The machinery's much too clumsy to be usable offensively. And, again, incredibly hard to make.”

“What about your previous wagon? The one trashed by the Ursa. Was it...?”

“A prototype,” she replied. “Even bigger. Still couldn't replace it.”

“Oh.”

A pause.

“Feel bad yet?” Trixie asked.

“Very,” I responded.

“Good.” She nodded.

“Now hold on,” I said. “If this thing can bend space, that means it also bends time, right?”

Trixie blinked.

“Can this thing travel in time?” I asked.

She sighed deeply. “I think that's enough for now,” she said, looking at me as if I were insane. “Listen. Our task is to get inside that cave. And I have a plan.”

It was dark outside. I sat comfortably in an armchair facing the fireplace, looking into the dancing fire. Trixie's hat and cape hung on a small coat rack nearby. Over the serene cracking of the flames, I heard the wizardess herself messing about with the machinery at the other end of the room. Soon, I heard the sound of her hooves getting closer, and when she sat down in the other chair beside me, a small cup of tea floated before my eyes. My purple-tinted aura drove away her pinkish glow and the cup flew gently under my nose.

“That smells excellent,” I said. “No local ingredients were used, I take it.”

“Only in yours.”

“Thanks, Trixie, you're so nice.”

“Aren't I just.”

Her cup floated up between the two of us, and I moved my own cup there to clink them together.

“Cheers,” we said in chorus.

I took a small sip.

“You sure this is going to work?” I asked.

“It had better,” she said. “Being bitten once was well enough, thank you very much. Celestia knows what I'd've done if the infection was transferred like that.”

“The town of purple ponies that bite at night,” I said. “Sounds like something out of a terrible adventure flick.”

“No joke, though. These ponies? I tried following them to the cave just the other night. Can't really do it from a distance because the streets are so narrow, and there's so many of them. And when you get close, they kick and bite. It's insane.”

“Completely placid during the day, aggressive by night. Another mystery to solve.”

“Exactly.”

She leaned out of her seat and looked back; out the window, I imagined.

“Getting pretty late,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “We should probably begin.”

I looked outside as well. “I guess that's right.”

I cracked my neck and stood up, stretching my legs and placing my cup of tea onto the small table to the side. Trixie did so as well. We walked to the large space at the centre of the room and stood before one another.

“Now remember what I taught you, Sparky,” Trixie said. “Concentration is key. If you mess this up....”

“You're getting your visage ruined, one way or another,” I said. “I'm pretty good with magic, trust me. And the idea is sound. Although, I still find the execution a bit... questionable.”

“Oh, who's a shy filly? You can't cast a high-level illusion spell on yourself, you know that. It's just not possible for a simple unicorn. So get to it.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated. I pictured Trixie in my head, focusing less on minute detail and more on the most defining features. A slim build, thin legs, blue all throughout; the cutie mark; the eyes and silver mane. Then I formulated a different image of her: a Trixie whose coat had a noticeable shade of lavender in it. I gradually faded out all of the blue, strengthening the purplish hue. I adjusted her mane to a similar, slightly lighter colour, and darkened her eyes and teeth to match the “Horsmouth look.” I carefully erased her horn and redrew her cutie mark into a simple circle. Unassuming enough, I thought. Then I added the finishing touches, such as the cracked hooves and bleeding lips.

I opened my eyes, and in front of me, I saw a proper, upstanding Horsmouth citizen.

“Done already?” Trixie asked. “How do I look?”

“Absolutely horrible,” I said.

She grinned, showing off her new teeth. “Excellent. Now hold still.”

I straightened my back and awaited the spell. Trixie closed her eyes and I saw her horn light up. I admit, I did get a little nervous, seeing it pointed at me like that.

After a short while, she opened her eyes and looked me up and down.

“All done,” she said with a proud look.

“What?” I asked, looking at my hooves and legs. “I don't seem any different.”

“Not to yourself, of course,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “But trust me...”

Trixie disappeared in a flash of light. Shortly afterwards, she reappeared with another one, the mirror I had seen upstairs now suspended mid-air beside her. Looking into it, I saw a darker version of myself. My eyes were nearly pitch black. Looking down, my own hooves seemed completely fine, yet those of my reflection were worn and jagged. My horn was also gone, and my cutie mark was now a disorderly bunch of small stars scattered about.

“I know how to cast an illusion spell,” she finished.

“Incredible,” I mumbled.

“I am, am I not?” she chortled.

Her girlish giggling was interrupted by a noise from outside. Trixie's ears twitched and she ran to the window, leaning out into the darkness. She then pulled back inside and shot me an urging look.

“They're outside,” she said. “Ready?”

“Give me a second,” I replied.

For all our joking around, the situation in Horsmouth was no laughing matter. Lightening the mood during the day was one thing, but now that the moment had arrived, I knew needed to be prepared, both mentally and physically.

The cup of tea I had left on the table floated to my mouth. Quickly downing the last drops, I sent it back to the table again. I then closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Looking at Trixie, I exhaled.

“Now I'm ready.”

Not Just for Licking, part 2

Chapter 7:
Not Just for Licking, part 2

The stinging, cold mist bit at my hooves and nibbled the tips of my ears. After a while, I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd found actual frost growing on my fur. Trixie and I agreed to stay close to one another, for both our sakes. Not that we had much of a choice, having to tread the narrow streets of Horsmouth, already filling up with countless sick townsfolk.

I found solace in the fact that, at the very least, the disguise spell appeared to work. Nopony gave us strange looks, and there was a distinct lack of the kicking and biting Trixie had been so afraid of. On the downside, telling my companion apart from the rest of the ponies was hard enough on its own; the complete lack of street lighting didn't help one bit. While the skies were clear, and the Moon shone bright, very little of its light actually made it through the mist. My navigation was limited to mostly sound, following the lavender horde pouring onto the streets.

As much as I loved my friends back at home, I was used to working alone, and wouldn't have had it any other way before. I hated to admit it, but out there now, knowing that a helpful hoof was nearby was rather reassuring.

Such was our trek through distant Horsmouth.

Getting out of town was an adventure in itself, but it wasn't long after the plank roads ran out from under my hooves that I began to miss them. Walking along the bare mountainside paths, with a crowd of hundreds pushing from all sides, was outright dangerous. I was amazed by the surprising agility the Horsmouth folk displayed; for all their seeming clumsiness, they were able to keep a steady pace even under these conditions, and I don't recall seeing—or hearing—a single one tumble or fall. Fortunately, neither did Trixie or I.

We reached the mouth of the waterfall cave in a few minutes. The rumbling sound of cascading water drowned out the groans and coughs of the crowd. I wondered, at first, how a pony would even go about entering the cave—what with the river pushing against you—but, following the purple procession, I found that there was a relatively clear path running along the inner wall. The water rushed in a deeper canal, carved into the rock through the centuries. This allowed us to enter the cave, walking on an upper path in relative safety.

The ponies thronged inside, and Trixie and I went with the flow.

For the better half of a minute, everything was in total darkness. I could only follow the echoes of the many hooves walking along. After a while, however, glint of light entered my eyes. Coming around a corner, I beheld a sight equally enchanting and frightening. We were apparently inside an enormous tunnel, and the walls—every surface—glowed in a strange, purplish light. A thin layer of an odd, creamy substance filmed everything from the floor to the ceiling, exuding this mysterious luminescence, as well as an odd warmth.

I quickly threw my head up to look for Trixie; luckily, I soon found her doing the same, not far behind myself. I slowed down a little, butting my way to her side through the crowd. I didn't speak—neither did she—but the look on her face told an obvious tale: she was as puzzled as I was.

Our way seemed to lead deep into the mountain. The wide tunnel we found soon split up into an intricate network of smaller tunnels, as did the river itself break up and change course beside us. Several small streams ran in many tunnels of varying sizes. Some were crevices too tight for a pony to fit through, others branched into wide open spaces and back into narrower tunnels again. All throughout, the purplish glow remained. The crowd of ponies split up as well; some groups went one way while others chose another, but after a while, they always joined together again. Trixie and I continued side by side.

Although we could not slow down too much due to the pushing tide of other ponies, the long, twisting journey into the depths did give me an opportunity to inspect the strange substance that covered everything. I noticed how I felt my hooves stick to the ground, and how I needed to exert a tiny bit of extra strength to pull them up before each step I took.

Looking at the substance closely was like peeking into a microscope. Small, shapeless blobs, each barely visible, moved and swam around within, giving the material a distinct organic feeling. The glow it gave off was also constantly shifting, fading out at one tiny spot only to strengthen in another before changing again. I lifted a hoof and carefully sniffed it, finding that the substance gave off a strong smell unlike anything I've felt before, causing a burning sensation in my nostrils. Perhaps the taste-test can wait.

Although at first I was glad for the strange illumination, after a while it all became borderline nauseating.

After a lengthy trek, we reached what seemed to be the crowd's destination for the night. The tunnel led into a chamber large enough to comfortably house the entirety of Horsmouth's population plus two. Although seemingly natural in origin, it was clearly a place of great renown for these ponies. Or, perhaps, a place of worship.

From the centre of the ceiling, a stream of water cascaded through a crack into a large pool which took up much of the room. The pond's water was visibly tinted dark-purple and seemed to glow in a strange hue that was somehow both dark and bright at the same time. Its depth was impossible to tell at a glance, yet an indescribable feeling at the back of my head told me it led into the very bowels of the earth.

I dismissed that shiver down my spine as the effect of upset nerves.

At two opposite ends of the room, vast staircases had been cut into the stone. They ascended along the curved walls, coming together in the middle to form a balcony overlooking the pond—and all the ponies now around it—high up at the far end.

Indeed, the room strongly reminded me of descriptions of ancient pagan temples which I had read of in my books. Before there ever was an Equestria, before there were the Two Sisters, and before the time of the Three Tribes, there was only fear. When the stars were right—or outright wrong—our primitive ancestors would gather in such forsaken places to placate demons and appease gods in hopes of a brighter tomorrow.

The layer of the unnameable substance was much thicker within, so much that it noticeably impeded my ability to walk. Its light, in turn, was also much stronger, creating an almost daytime brightness within, if the Sun glowed lavender.

Sprouting from the wall above the balcony, I saw an image of the thing for whom this blasphemous sanctuary had been created; a stone statue providing an appropriate reflection of the legends which ponies dared only whisper.

Metal plating was nailed onto its hooves, so that its touch might be even colder. Its chest was covered with jagged armour, so that its embrace might be even harsher. Its wings were spread wide, so that its shadow might reach even further. A helmet covered its head, so that it might never die.

That depiction of Nightmare Moon stared into me, baring its rock-fangs as though it were ready to tear into my soul.

But Nightmare Moon did die, I reassured myself. We ended her.

Trixie and I exchanged a look. We both knew what the presence of this statue meant. This was a place of gathering for that forbidden cult which Princess Luna had been attempting to finally weed out ever since her return. They called themselves the Children of the Night, and strived to wake up the princess' inner demon, hoping that she might still bring about eternal night. Insane, all of them; yet this conviction of mine meant little now.

What happened in Horsmouth? There were too many questions. Trixie and I would need to see this through.

The townsfolk gathered around the pool, and I thought for a moment that I saw a hint of anticipation in their normally vacant eyes. Their quiet groans and grumblings filled the room.

After a while, however, a new sound entered my ears. It was only then that I noticed: another passageway apparently had its opening just below the statue of Nightmare Moon, leading directly onto the high balcony. From there, I heard what I thought to be irregular murmuring at first, but it soon became apparent that it was something very orderly. It was chanting.

The words I couldn't understand. In fact, I couldn't even place the language in which the slow song was being performed. Yet the melody and tune were enough for me to tell: it was a song of horrors. And as its echoes strengthened, so faded the noise of the ponies at the pool.

Soon, a small procession of a dozen or so unicorns appeared on top of the balcony, clad in long black robes, their faces hidden by pulled-down hoods. They took their place beside one another at the edge of the balcony, looking down at all of us. The crowd below had gone completely silent by this point, and they listened eagerly to the unholy psalms of the cultists.

After a short while, a new unicorn showed up on the balcony. Yet this one was different from the rest, for she wore no hood, and her robe was gilded by what I took to be shining silver. She, too, displayed the classic “Horsmouth look:” her coat and mane were a dark shade of violet, and her eyes were uniformly dark. The other unicorns made space for her, and she took her place at the centre of the congregation. The chanting at once died down, and there fell a silence only disturbed by the rippling water.

Well, I pondered, it seems we have found that powerful unicorn I suspected to be around.

“Hear me, my brothers!” the mare spoke out.

Her voice was cracked, in line with the familiar symptoms of the town's mysterious disease. Yet her tone—and indeed, ability to form coherent words—set her apart from all the rest.

A near-deafening eruption of applause startled me; every male citizen of Horsmouth, it seemed, cheered for her in their own coughing, croaking voice.

“And hear me, my sisters!” the unicorn spoke again.

The mares, now, applauded.

“I am Priestess Nichts,” she introduced herself, “and it is my honour to perform the holy rites. But know that I do this not as your greater, but as another humble servant of the one Mother. For we are all, in the end, only children of the night.”

More applause. Looking at the townsfolk, and remembering my own arrival, I couldn't help but think that this was a programmed response to any word being spoken on a stage before them.

“Do you believe in Her return?” Nichts asked.

“Yes!” the entire crowd unanimously replied. “Praise the Mother! Praise her beast!”

Their words were robotic, yet somehow intimidating. The combined sound of hundreds of ponies shouting together resonated throughout the entire network of caves. And just what is this “beast” they're referring to? When the echoes died down, the priestess continued.

“Prophet Nie may not be with us tonight, for he has left for great Cloudsdale. Yet we must continue without him, to show our undying belief in the teachings which have survived a millennium!”

“Praise the Mother! Praise her beast!”

“Indeed, what a time this is to be alive! She is closer to us now than ever before in a thousand years. So gorge yourselves! Gorge yourselves on Her beast's miraculous secretion!”

Movement at once started among the townsfolk around us. Their goal was the pool; some of them swam in deep and submerged entirely while others only stood on the shore and began lapping the tainted water.

Trixie and I exchanged questioning looks. Looking up at the unicorns, I decided that it was best we play along. Neither of us was insane enough to actually drink the foul-smelling water, but we stepped forward, regardless, and bowed our heads as close to the surface as we thought was safe.

I kept my eyes on the ponies around us. The ones deeper in came up to the surface and spewed the water from their mouth, like foals playing at the beach, before submerging again. Some ponies thrashed about at shallower parts, rolling in the water and devouring mouthfuls with every roll. Few were the ones who stood at the shore, and even they seemed to get violently into the act over time, splashing and spitting as they whipped their head up and down. I kept my lips sealed tight.

When they seemed done, Trixie and I stepped away from the water quickly, letting the rest come out. I remember covering my mouth and nose discretely as they shook their coats and manes dry, unwilling to let a single drop of the stuff into my body. What did she call it, secretion of a beast? Is there—could there be—something living in these caves, excreting this purple poison?

“Drink deep,” Nichts spoke out once more, “and indulge Her gift of clarity! Can you see it, the end, Her return?”

“We have no fear!”

“Then it is time for the higher race to prove its devotion as well!”

Nichts lifted her robe slightly, revealing a ceremonial knife hoisted on her side. A red glow enveloped its handle and it flew into the air. She held her left hoof out above the water, and the knife came down swiftly on the underside of her fetlock. As the serrated blade punctured her sick skin, her mouth formed a smile. As the knife cut deeper into her flesh, she grinned ear to ear, looking at the wound with joyful, twitching eyes. She pulled the blade away and blood spurted, raining into the pool below.

The knife was then passed to another unicorn, who repeated her actions, cutting his own purple leg. The rest, too, cut themselves one by one, and Nichts finally put the blade away.

“We offer our blood to Her beast!” she yelled. “So do we subject ourselves to its will!”

As she finished, her injured hoof began glowing red, as did those of the other unicorns. They retracted their legs.

A pity. It appears they aren't “devoted” enough to actually bleed themselves to death.

Yet more curious than what they did was the effect it had on the water. As the final drops of blood reached the pool, the water became restless and a strange ebullition began within. Small waves formed spontaneously and the water lashed about.

“The beast has been roused,” Nichts announced, much to the crowd's joy, “and 'tis time for us to claim our just reward. The true feast will then take place.”

With that, the priestess turned around and left for the tunnel behind her. The other unicorns stayed on the balcony and kept watch over the rest of us. All along, the water was becoming increasingly restless. The townsfolk were mumbling unintelligibly to themselves. Trixie poked my side.

“So what do we do then?” she whispered, keeping her head down.

“All we can do now is wait,” I answered.

“I think those up there are all the unicorns they had in Horsmouth. We take them out, this ends right now.”

“And we're going to do just that,” I calmed her. “But listen. There might be more of them.”

“There might not be.”

“These caves are huge, Trixie. You've seen all those tunnels. We have no idea just what we're up against yet. The whole cult could be hiding down here somewhere, for all we know. And that beast they keep referring to? It could be anything.”

“All the more reason to blow this all to Tartarus. Bring the caves down. It'd only take a few blasts here and there.” She looked around. “I'm sure you could conjure up some kinetic projectiles strong enough.”

“And murder everyone inside? Look at these ponies.” I motioned at the purple mass moving about around us. “They're sick. Victims. How would they get out? How would we get out? I don't suppose you've laid a path of breadcrumbs to follow in case of a cave-in.”

“Well I don't know about you, Sparky, but I'm pretty sure I could just teleport out of here.”

“And I couldn't. Even if I could, that still leaves the townsfolk to die.”

“So that's your plan then? Just sit on our rumps and wait?”

“For now, yes.”

“I really don't think there's any more of them,” Trixie insisted. “This looks like their biggest ceremony. The priestess went out of her to mention that Nee guy not being here.”

“Nie,” I corrected. “It's Germane for never.”

“You speak Germane?”

“You don't?”

“I mostly get by creating magical images. That and body language.”

“Well, my father Night Light was actually born Nachtlicht. Go figure.”

Before our conversation could have gone more off-topic, we saw Nichts return. Beside her, a long iron chain floated in red light, extending behind her far enough that I couldn't see the other end.

“The plot thickens,” I mumbled.

“Is that a catchphrase?”

“Why? Does the Great and Powerful Trixie think it's dumb?”

Nichts straightened her back and, clearing her throat, lifted her right hoof to silence the townsfolk. With the background noise gone, Trixie and I stopped speaking as well. In the relative silence, my attention was once again directed towards the splashing water, now surging exceedingly.

If there truly is a beast living in this pool, it seems we are about to meet it.

“The beast has awakened!” Nichts announced to a round of applause. “For your love, and our blood, it shall grant us Mother's strength!”

The townsfolk stomped at the ground excitedly and the whole chamber shook with the rumbling.

It was then that something emerged from the water. Like a pillar of purple goo, thicker than my torso, the thing extended high up. It had no discernible body parts. There was only this long, twitching thing stretching up to the balcony. Countless pores gaped loathsomely on its semi-translucent surface, making wet, snapping sounds as they excreted the same kind of glowing substance we had seen everywhere. And the eyes! Dear Celestia, the eyes. They formed and disappeared randomly, looking out with that unblinking, bulging gaze that I still can't forget.

Soon, another of these horrid tentacles—for lack of a better word—emerged from the water, and then even more. Some were thick and others were thin, and some alternated between the two states. Their stench was almost unbearable. The more I looked at the horrible mass of gaping holes and eyes and mouths, the more my mind protested. This shouldn't be possible. This shouldn't... be.

I heard Trixie let out an audible gasp. I turned to her; she was looking at the tentacles, shifting her gaze from one to the other in disbelief. It looked like she recognised the thing.

“Trixie?” I whispered. “What is that?”

“It's...” she began, but her voice cracked. She didn't even look at me. “It's a... no....”

The first tentacle made a sudden movement, coiling towards Nichts, and I thought I saw it make a grab for the floating chain. Nichts shoved the thing away with a determined motion, and instead stretched her own neck out, opening her mouth like a bird's nestling expecting food from its mother.

The thing understood her sign, as it seemed, and it quickly thrust itself down Nichts' throat. The feeler convulsed and the priestess gagged, and I saw movement within the almost-transparent length of the tentacle. When the beast was done, the tentacle pulled back and let Nichts go; she fell forward and nearly collapsed, heaving and coughing. Gasping for air heavily, she wiped her mouth. The other unicorns then opened their mouths as well, and were fed by the many tentacles in return. I could barely stand to look.

But the beast was getting violent, and the many feelers lashed out dangerously close to Nichts.

“Enough!” she roared. “As priestess of the Mother, I command you to stay back!”

Then she yanked the chain powerfully, pulling into view what was on its other end. Or rather, who, for it was a foal, dangerously thin yet seemingly untainted by the Horsmouth plague. Her coat was red and her overgrown mane was green, and her eyes were crystal clear. The poor filly could hardly stand on her hooves.

Trixie's mouth hung agape and I saw utter terror in her eyes. My own heart began racing and I had to clench my teeth to stop myself from calling out to the filly and her captor. For what we had just witnessed was not the “feast” that Nichts had mentioned. I understood, then, that the feast would not be for her, but for the beast.

Trixie turned to me with a defiant gaze. I shook my head slowly in response. She looked disgusted. I'd have been as well. But I couldn't let feelings cloud my judgement. We can't intervene. We mustn't. Not yet.

“For your gifts, we offer this sacrifice of the purest blood, now as ever!” Nichts declared.

If we step in, what then? Are there more foals deeper inside? And cultists? What of the beast?

The foal couldn't resist the pulls on her chain. She tried to flee but couldn't escape the relentless yanking as distance between her and the edge of the balcony lessened.

“Mum?” the filly asked, looking at Nichts. “Mummy! Stop it, please!”

But Nichts didn't look at her. She was looking at the mass of tentacles dancing in the pool, awaiting their horrific meal. Hearing the high-pitched cries of the filly ground my nerves. Am I to let a filly die? The task at hoof must always come first. Doesn't it?

I tried dismissing my doubts; that's what I do best, after all.

As the dark-red glow of Nichts' magic enveloped the filly, I was shaking head to hoof in impotent anger. I can't. But I should. And I mustn't.

And then it was too late. The filly was lifted from the balcony, and in a second, she was sent flying towards the depths of the pool and the horror awaiting her there.

Then a blinding light flashed beside me. A blurred blue figure appeared in the air above the pool. Another flash, and Trixie was standing among all the unicorns on the balcony, the little red foal in her hoof.

The disoriented Nichts wasn't given the time to question what happened, for a quick kick from Trixie sent her tripping over the balcony's edge. A tentacle then lashed out, forming a mouth at its tip and swallowing her whole. All the while, the other tentacles seemed very interested in the balcony, grasping upwards, trying to grab the filly.

It didn't take long for the thing to spit Nichts out—it was clearly unimpressed by the taste—and she landed not far from me, crashing into a few other ponies who didn't even try to get out of the way. When they got back up, all they did was take a few steps aside. Nichts, I saw, was covered in a rancid, purple gunk. And she wasn't moving any more.

“Citizens of Horsmouth!” came the voice of Trixie from above as the other unicorns encircled her. “Leave! Go home right now!”

That got their attention; the obedient mass turned around and started for the tunnel from which we came. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my own teleporting spell. In an instant, my body felt to both burn up and freeze over, signalling my arrival upon the balcony. Then I felt a new, unfamiliar sensation, one I've never experienced whilst teleporting: a strange, tingling rush down my spine. This must have been, I gathered, the disguise spell fading, as it had faded from Trixie. I opened my eyes and looked at all the furious unicorns before me.

“Need a hoof?” I asked Trixie.

She nodded, pushing the frightened filly behind the two of us. “Certainly.”

The stage was set: two of Luna's best against the crazed cultist congregation of Horsmouth. Behind us, there was a filly and tunnel leading into the depths; before us, a dozen or so unicorns stood, ready to battle. And behind them, down in the pit, many tentacles wiggled, demanding their meal.

For the next minute, there was chaos. Spells were flung, the cave was blasted, blood was spilled, and the beast below took its fair share of unicorn meat. The thing didn't seem particularly interested in Trixie or myself. If anything, it had been angry at the cultists. After it devoured them—and shortly getting rid of them, as it did with Nichts—it had its many eyes set on the little filly.

Presently, with the cultists gone, I was doing my best to keep the encroaching tentacles at bay as Trixie attempted to coax information out of the shocked foal. I saw the filly looking my way, and at the many feelers reaching onto the balcony. Trixie reached for the filly's head, holding her cheeks firmly and leaning in close.

“Look at me,” Trixie whispered. “What's your name?”

“B-Blossy,” the foal stammered.

I sent a missile at a coming tentacle. The tip came clean off, falling onto the balcony. It slowly melted into the familiar purple goo before rolling back into the pit, drop by drop.

“Blossy?” I heard Trixie ask. “That's short for Blossom, isn't it? That's a beautiful name. Suits a brave girl. You're a brave little filly, aren't you?”

I heard no response from the girl, but I imagined she nodded. I, in the meantime, threw another bunch of feelers and eyes back into the pool. Before, I felt that the monster was playing with us. Now I thought it was getting angry. Or perhaps just hungry, in which case I definitely didn't want to see angry.

“My name is Lulamoon,” Trixie said. “My friend and I are here to help.”

“What happened to mummy?” the filly asked.

A tentacle lashed out, thickening mid-air as it came down. I jumped away and it slammed into the balcony, breaking off a sizeable chunk of the rock. Damn it, Trixie, you'd better hurry. I can't keep this up forever.

“Mummy is fine,” Trixie said. “Please, tell me, Blossy, are there any more foals? Anypony at all?”

“Yes,” she replied in a waning voice. “Back t-there.”

“Can you show us?”

It was then that the beast finally lost its temper. There was a sound, like a lion's roar or a screeching train—impossible to describe—that resonated throughout the chamber. A large mound of purplish goo, ten or fifteen times my own size, shot up from the water and stuck onto the ceiling. It was a horrid mass of mouths and pseudopods, with tentacles soon sprouting and eyes swimming about on its surface. It never had one defined shape, jittering constantly. As water dripped from its gelatinous body, an acrid stench filled the room.

I blasted at it with a spell, but all I achieved was producing a sound similar to jelly being punched.

“Alright!” I turned to Trixie and Blossom. “I think it's high time we start running.”

“Come on,” Trixie said as she picked Blossom up and threw her onto her back. “Show the way. Sparky?” She turned to me. “You slow the thing down.”

“Easier said than d—”

Trixie was already darting away, deeper into the tunnel from which the cultists originally arrived. After taking a quick look at the thing creeping along the ceiling, I dashed after them.

“Trixie!” I shouted for her. “You know what that thing is?”

“Think I do!” she yelled back. “Didn't think it's real!”

A turn here, a turn there; Blossom remembered the way surprisingly well. Splashing about in the goo that still covered everything, we passed many small rooms, each lit by serene candlelight. During the quick peeks I could take while running past them, I saw books, scrolls, small statuettes depicting strange demons, and many other things one would expect from such a conglomeration.

I kept blasting away at the monster chasing us. It moved with surprising speed, its waving mass flowing across the tunnels and rumbling like a coming tide. I used all the conventional methods I could think of, from sending projectiles at it, to attempting to pick it up and simply throwing it back. Magical missiles appeared to simply pass through the rolling mass with little effect, however, and the beast proved too heavy to lift outright. It seemed that nothing short of a cave-in could stop the thing. And even then it could probably just pour through the cracks and reassemble itself.

“How do we kill it?” I asked Trixie.

“We don't,” she replied.

“In there!” Blossom pointed at an opening not far down the tunnel.

Trixie and she were first to rush inside while I did my best to halt the beast's advance. I quickly leapt into the room and tore a chunk of stone from the tunnel's opposite wall, slamming it onto the room's opening. The monster was thus stuck outside, for the moment, and we were trapped within. I panted heavily, trying to catch my breath. I felt ready to collapse.

When I looked up, I was overcome by a different kind of horror. Staring back at me were countless eyes, not from a shapeless demon but from many little foals. They were locked in rusty, dirty iron cages, all sickly thin and malnourished. Their teeth chattered and they sniffled fearfully as they looked at the new arrivals. Some of them might not have been breathing.

I forgot my own exhaustion.

A thunderous sound shook the room. The monster outside was bashing at the rock which divided it from us.

“Well, Trixie,” I began, “I believe some explanation is in order. What is that thing outside?”

“I don't know,” Trixie replied. “Not really. It's a... a thing.”

I nodded. “Intriguing.”

“I've read about them,” she continued hastily, trying to find the right words. “But very few sources even mention them. Luna said they didn't exist when I asked. Supposedly they're Nightmare Moon's creatures. They—”

The beast banged on the rocks again. I saw a crack form in the rock.

“They spawned from her star-mane, I've read,” Trixie said. “Tale has it, they're what nightmares are made of.”

“Oh, so that's what it is, a nightmare,” I said. “Very helpful, Trixie. So what do we do? Wake up?”

“Oh, you're so clever!” Trixie stepped closer furiously. “Yes! That's exactly what we do. Come here, let me bite you.”

The room shook. Trixie stepped back and took a deep breath.

“The Elements of Harmony,” she said. “When Celestia used them, when Nightmare Moon was banished, the things disappeared. So the legend says.”

“That doesn't really help us right now,” I responded.

“No.” She hung her head. “It doesn't.”

The room kept shaking. I heard a cracking sound. Trixie looked back at the foals. Blossom trembled.

“Listen,” Trixie called for me. “I think I can get them out of here. It's a long way, but I should be able to teleport them all outside.”

“That's insane,” I responded. “I know you're good, but not that good. You don't even know where we are. You might materialise inside a wall! It might kill y—”

“Shut up, Twilight!” she cut in. “It's not like I have to jump the whole distance at once. I can hop around, find the right way. Still faster than running.”

Trixie heaved heavily, looking into my eyes with unprecedented determination. The banging at the door intensified.

“And hey.” She straightened her back and grinned cheekily. “Up is always the right direction.”

I stared at her for a while, contemplating our options. I didn't like the sound of her idea, not the tiniest bit.

“What would you have me do?” I finally asked.

“You go outside and distract the thing. I don't care how you do it. But you need to get me a few minutes. I can't do them all at once.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I'll come back. That thing isn't getting out of here alive. Trust me, Sparky.”

“We can't kill it. You've said it yours—”

“Trust me, Sparky.”

“I hope you know what you're doing.”

Closing my eyes, I cast a spell to teleport to the other side of the wall, and come face to metaphorical face with the beast.

There I stood, out in the tunnel again, with that abomination before me. Yet, to my surprise, while it fixed its many eyes on me and followed my every move, it didn't actually seem to care much for me. It was, clearly, still fixated on the kid, and so it kept smashing itself against the stone.

“Hey!” I called out to it.

No response.

I channelled a spell and fired; the missile splashed into the monster, digging a path for itself as it shot through the pulpous mass. The wound soon closed, and the thing didn't react. It was getting dangerously close to breaking through. I saw it stick a small feeler or two into the cracks it's already created, trying to tear the rock apart. I had to think fast. And then it hit me. For what was the difference between me and the cultists that it so eagerly attacked? There was only one obvious answer.

I wrapped my aura around a tuft of fur on my right leg and, clenching my teeth, pulled. I'd be lying if I said it was a pleasant experience. The hairs soon ripped loose and I cast them aside. And then, refusing to give myself the opportunity to change my mind, I bit down on the newly-naked skin, and nibbled well. Reminding myself of what I had seen on the other side of the wall, I realised the pain was worth it.

When I was done, I limped stalwartly to that overgrown amoeba, and punched it straight in an eye. The eye fell apart and dissolved, letting me press my hoof deeper inside. I could feel the thing strengthen its grip on me, and its purple-opaque body immediately began sucking the fresh blood from my wound. I wasn't sure as to how long I should let it have at me; when I felt the first tug of the thing dragging me closer, I took that as a sign to pull out.

I jumped quickly away from the beast, wiping my leg clean of goo. The beast was no longer lashing at the stone, but instead stood still as it reformed its damaged eye. I took a few more steps back.

“Come on!” I yelled.

And so the chase began; the sleep-deprived, three-legged unicorn raced the formless glutton of a similar colour directionlessly into the depths of the glowing caves. Yet more profound than the fantastic events that occurred down there is what I remember of it. The eldritch monstrosity steadily closing in on me? Not much in the way of specific memory there. In fact, I'm actively trying my best to forget as much about it as I can even today.

Indeed, my mind always finds a way to wander off even in spite of the worst conditions. Or, perhaps, exactly because of them. I do remember wondering about what else the cultists could have been doing in there, and what for. Most of the tunnels seemed untouched and natural in origin, with very few places seemingly used by the cultists for anything. I felt that tingling feeling at the back of my mind, that childlike curiosity, begging to find out more.

Right then, as I turned a corner and momentarily lost sight of the monster behind me, as if on cue, the ground collapsed beneath me. I fell into a different chamber, a small room; above, an appropriately pony-sized hole gaped. I saw the beast dart past without noticing the hole, chasing a mare that was no longer there. Some of its material drooped down as it passed by, illuminating the dark room.

What in Tartarus, I figured, I've already stuck my hoof in it once.

I picked up the gelatinous blob and used it to light my way. Lifting the droplet, I discovered that I wasn't only in one of the rarer, cultist-used rooms, but in fact I found myself in what seemed to be Nichts' private study. There was a shelf full of scrolls and parchments, and a small desk with ink and a feather, along with two books; one open, one closed.

Perhaps Trixie was correct, I concluded. Serendipity does love us after all.

I looked at the open one first, placing the blob beside it. It was, from a quick skim, an account of the origins and purpose of the “Children of the Night,” written by some “Prophet Nie.” The same Nie, I suspected, that Nichts mentioned in the pool room higher up. As much as I wished to read the leather-bound book cover to cover, I knew it wouldn't be long until the monster figured out that it was chasing nothing.

Yet it wouldn't have been me if I hadn't at least taken a peek. I directed my attention at the open pages, which conveniently spoke about the “Beast of the one Mother.” Nichts had been reading this, no doubt, in preparation for the the night's mass. It was time to put my speed reading skills to the test.

I skipped a detailed tale of the creatures' origins in favour of looking for simple keywords. “Battle in the Sky,” “the false mother,” “the true Mother,” “nightmares given form;” a retelling of Celestia's battle against her own sister, and her ultimate use of the elements, presented from Nightmare Moon's point of view. There were few kind words about the Princess of the Sun.

Skipping forward a few pages, I caught an interesting snippet. The prophet, apparently, attributed the creation of not only these monsters, but of many others, to Nightmare Moon. Vampires, werewolves, and many more things that haunt the night were traced back to the Mare in the Moon.

The book yielded no relevant information, however. Seeing how I didn't have the Elements of Harmony on hoof, it appeared there would be no way to kill the monster. Perhaps this other tome will shed some light on the subject.

I picked up and opened the other volume. It was much lighter and smaller then the other tome, and labelled simply and clearly, “The Diary of Priestess Nichts.” This was, at first glance, a hoof-written piece about and by the priestess herself. Yet when I hit up the first page, I found that there was something else written there; the name of one “Bloomingshine,” the mayor of Horsmouth. For several pages, it read just like one would expect it would, of gossip, raising a foal, and the hardships of juggling the responsibilities of a single mother and a mayor. I flipped forward quickly to find talk of visions and nightmares, lack of sleep, and a general feeling of sickness all throughout the past few months. Finally, there was a mention of a visit from a pegasus noble, Monsoon Descent. The stallion came down all the way from Cloudsdale to talk with the mayor. His visit was dated some three weeks before my arrival.

Several pages were then left blank. Turning them, I read the first words of the next filled page: “A new beginning.”

That it was indeed; Bloomingshine was never referenced again, being replaced by Priestess Nichts. Monsoon Descent himself turned out to be none other than the mysterious Prophet Nie. He brought with himself a lock of hair, claiming it to be from the “Dark Alicorn herself.” They used a single hair from the batch to create this monster, and then they used the monster to poison the waters of Horsmouth. The onset was quick enough, and soon the “lesser races” were subjected to the will of Nichts. Nie, of course, wisely avoided drinking from the water.

The unicorns of Horsmouth found their magical abilities soaring to unprecedented heights, and soon became addicted to the beast's excretion, subjecting willingly to the cult.

But the thing demanded blood in return, and that of Nichts and her unicorns would not sate it for long. It hungered for the blood of children.

I'd read enough. What few gaps remained in this tale, I could easily fill on my own. I realised, too, that the thing chasing me wasn't one of the ancient beasts—if they ever existed at all—but some imperfect copy, made by a lowly unicorn and an insane pegasus, and lacking the Mother's touch. It needed to have a weakness. But what?

I made my way out of the room. The tunnel outside was much darker than any other, for the substance filming the walls was only a thin layer. I suspected that the material was what the monster left behind as it travelled. If that theory was true, then it made sense that the great priestess wouldn't let it roam about her office too often.

The Mother's priestess or not, that pesky survival instinct is always present.

I stood still and held my breath for a moment, listening for the noise of the beast travelling about. What reached my ear was a different, unfamiliar sound. It sounded as if it were coming from the wall. Thus, I walked up to the tunnel's side and pressed my ear to it. Is that... water?

I concluded, pulling my head back, that there was only a thin wall dividing me from the ocean beyond. I was deeper than I had imagined. Then, as I pondered this little titbit of trivia, came the sound I had expected to hear: that of the wobbling mass rolling towards me. Clearly, this time, going towards the light would have been the worse decision.

So I turned and began running again. I knew I couldn't keep it up for much longer, but what choice did I have? I ran and ran, all until I could run no farther. Not because my legs failed me, mind, as close as they were to it. No, the reason was much simpler: for the first time, I had reached a dead end. With the beast coming fast toward me, this seemed to be the end indeed.

Or perhaps I could teleport around it and begin running uphill. That'd get me a few more minutes. Maybe.

It was then, when I was cornered, sweating head to hoof and drawing increasingly heavy breaths, that the one-mare cavalry arrived in a flash of light.

“Evening,” Trixie said, eyeing the monster up and down.

She was in no better condition than me, also gasping for air and barely standing on shaking legs. And, perhaps, there was a little crack at the tip of her horn. It was hard to see.

“Say,” she began in forced voice, “I leave you for five minutes...” She took a deep breath. “And you go and get yourself killed. Nice going, Starbutt. At least there was a proper glowing path for me to follow, you know. Oh, and that hole in the floor? Masterful thinking right there.” She looked at the monster as it crawled closer. “Too bad it wasn't enough.”

“Yeah,” I panted, “you go now and show the beast who's boss. Don't take no for an answer.”

“Oh, I'm gonna...” She fell on her knees but stood up again quickly. “I'm gonna tear it apart. Bring what's left to Containment in a bag.”

“You've been to Containment?” I asked.

“You haven't?” she asked back.

The monster slowed down the closer it got, shifting its eyes between Trixie and me randomly. Whether it was confused, or just savouring the meal, I couldn't tell. And I didn't care.

“Guess we could flee,” I said to Trixie. “Teleport, or something.”

“Yeah, no,” she responded. “You saw what they did. Something is going to die here before anything gets out.”

“Any plans?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Right. Perfect.”

I sniffed, looking at the glowing mass before us.

“So,” I said, “this is it then? We die Celestia knows how deep, stuck between a creature of goo and a wet place?”

“I guess so,” Trixie sighed. “Wait, what was that?” She looked at me, her eyes brightening up.

“Because the ocean's on the other side of that wall? Get it?” Dearie me. Just kill me already.

“Sparky!” She put a hoof on my shoulder. “What's the ocean full of?”

“Well, water, mostly.” I rolled my eyes, pushing her off. “Also fish. Lots of fish.”

“Yes.” Trixie nodded. “And what else?”

I didn't get it, at first. Then I realised what she meant.

“You're insane, Trixie,” I said. “This will never work.”

Trixie's pink aura crawled along the ceiling, right above the approaching monster.

“Hope you can still teleport,” she said.

I sat in the water by the steep shore, looking at the collapsed mountainside. The ocean water, glowing in the Moon's light, licked my fetlocks gently. I shook my head.

“You blew it up, you maniac. You done did it.”

I looked down at my reflection. It appeared that the scar on my cheek had reopened during the exertion; a gentle reminder that, while I may have escaped death once again, I was still mortal. Thanks, ocean. That's very kind of you.

I squinted into the distance. There was no sign of a bulbous monster rising to the surface. So that's nice too.

And then—of course—a flash of light winked behind me. I felt a dump of something gooey splashing against my back, as if somepony had sneezed on me by the truckload. I didn't need to turn around.

“So guess what?” came the voice of Trixie. “Salt is its weakness.”

Then I heard the sound of her throwing up. I sighed, stood up, and walked to sit down beside her, evading the floating gunk that spread slowly in the water.

“Well, was, I take it,” I said, patting her back.

I looked at my injured leg. At least I didn't get infected. Can't feel it, anyway. On that note...

I bent my leg, submerging the scar in the ocean water. I clenched my teeth to bear the pain.

Better rub some salt in that wound.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Trixie gloated, wiping some purplish goo from her mane. Then she threw up again.

“So, Lulamoon, huh?” I asked.

“Sorry?” she asked back.

“That's what you told Blossom, that your name is Lulamoon.”

Trixie bent down and took in a mouthful of water. She looked up, rinsing it in her mouth. By the face she made, she didn't like the taste. She gargled, then spat the water out.

“It used to be,” she said, wiping her lips.

“How ominous.”

She looked up at the crumbled mountain. “I don't like that name. Reminds me of my childhood.”

“So why use it now?”

“Because it reminds me of my childhood. Or something. I don't know. I didn't really think about it.” She turned to me. “When I was a kid, they didn't like me practising illusions rather than real and serious magic. No, Lulamoon. That's wrong, Lulamoon. Stop it, Lulamoon. I got sick of hearing that all the time.”

She got up with a sigh, and began walking to the shore. I hadn't even noticed just how cold the water was. When I finally did, I was quick to follow her.

“It's kind of sad,” she continued. “I thought I was rid of it. But no. All it took was one kid.”

“Is that really it? A few bad teachers, and you give up your name?”

“There's more to it than that. You asked me how I joined Night Shift, remember? And I told you that I forgot. I wasn't lying. I really don't know.”

“That so?”

“I remember my childhood, you know. I remember finally getting out of magic school. I wanted out of that backwards little town, and I did the moment I could. I remember my first show as Trixie the Great, in Manehatten.” She sighed. “You wouldn't believe how many rotten tomatoes a crowd can have on hoof. And then there's nothing. Just this, a big, gaping blankness in my head.”

I raised a brow. “Luna?”

“Yes. My next memory is of her. I'm sitting in her room, high in that tower in Canterlot, just a few months after she returned. And I'm asking her, begging her, to remove the last three years of my life. I don't know what happened to me, or how I ended up there. All I know is that I wanted to forget something so badly, so much... I was willing to pledge myself to her. She looks at me, her eyes consume me. And then I wake up in this huge house. Except it's not a house. It's my wagon. And I know: Lulamoon is no more.”

“Wow.” I needed a moment just to formulate a more complex response. “Don't you ever wonder why?”

“Only all the time,” she chortled. “But I always let it go. I trust myself enough for that.” A proud smile lingered on her lips.

“But what about your home? Your parents? Do they know?”

Slowly, her smile died. “I never went back. I'm too afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That they might not remember me.”

I slept until noon. The armchair by the fireplace was soft and warm. Quite honestly, I didn't even care for not being able to lie down properly. I awoke to the sound of the door shutting, and I rubbed my eyes clear, standing up to talk to my host. Trixie, although physically beaten up as she was, seemed otherwise fine. Cheerful, even.

“Blossy's alright,” she said. “Just still asking about her mum.”

I shrugged. “Shame about what happened.”What's there to say?

Trixie sighed. “The others are okay, too. Stable, anyway. The townsfolk seem to have regained their sentience as well, with that thing dead. They're tending to the children.”

“Still purple, though?” I asked.

“Still purple, though,” she replied. “Mostly. Sclera's white again.”

“Seen any unicorns?”

“No. Pretty sure they're all dead.” Trixie looked away for a moment. “Serves them right,” she mumbled.

“Maybe,” I responded. “Can't question them now, however.”

“What's there to ask? The books down there have all the info Luna could ask for. And then some.”

“I don't think the books survived what you did last night.”

Trixie grumbled something under her nose. “You can still write a full report based on what you've read.”

“True.”

I pondered for a bit, about all the things from the previous night, about the legends of Nightmare Moon.

“Yeah,” I said, “you leave that report to me. I'll get right on it soon. Not like something like this could go unnoticed for long. Guards will be here long before I can send the letter.”

“Suit yourself,” Trixie replied.

“You just go and take a few days off. You know Luna's going to give you a new assignment soon.”

I walked to the window and looked out. Ponies were rushing about, bringing food and other supplies from one house to another. The grocery shop at the other end of the square had its doors wide open; by the looks of it, the owner was giving everything away. No time for profit-hunting now, eh? That's why I love you ponies.

They must have had a lot of questions to ask. I felt lucky not to be the pony who had to answer them. I sighed deeply.

“Hey, Trixie?”

“Yes?”

“I don't know about you, but I've had well enough of this town. I'll see if I can bribe somepony to take me to Stutencröe.”

“Don't think you should bother them with that,” Trixie replied. “I'm eager to leave too. Let me give you a ride.”

With that, she walked up to the machines in the corner, to pull a few levers and press a few buttons.

“Wait,” I said. “You're not going to tell me this thing can move on its own.”

“Why?” she asked, slamming one last button theatrically. “Do you think the Great and Powerful Trixie pulls all of this around? Please.”

The wagon started up with a sudden jolt, almost making me fall over.

“Better take a seat.” She grinned.

Cloudy with a Chance of Monsoon

Chapter 8:
Cloudy with a Chance of Monsoon

I was trying to forget. I couldn't.

When I closed my eyes, that terrible memory lingered before me. Priestess Nichts lay on the glowing cave floor, caked in that horrible, translucent substance. Through the gaps of her charred fur I could see black skin. Legs dislocated, bending in impossible angles. I saw the redness in her open flesh, but there was no blood pouring from her wounds. She deserved it, though, didn't she?

And the others. I let the monster get them. I pushed them into the pit. But they were murderers. Weren't they? There was no time to think. They wanted to kill me. I was defending myself. I'm not a murderer. I was defending the foal. But weren't they Nichts' victims as much as Blossy?

Blossy. If it hadn't been for Trixie... I was going to... I would have....

“Twilight?”

I looked up from my cup of tea. Fluttershy sat across the table, giving me a concerned look. The others were eyeing me as well. Rarity seemed, perhaps, the least surprised.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Fluttershy asked.

Okay? I thought. How could I be?

She's still looking. I need to say something. I have to calm her down.

“Yes,” I said. “Everything is just fine.” My cheek hurt when I smiled.

“I'm sure she's just tired,” Rarity said. “Being called to Canterlot on such short notice only to be sent away again must have put a strain on her.”

“Oh!” Pinkie glimmered. “What was it like in Manehatten? Did you have fun?” She seemed ready to burst.

“Hold your horses, Pinkie,” Applejack calmed her. “It was a royal assignment. Straight down from Celestia, isn't that right, Twilight?”

“Doesn't mean she didn't do something she likes,” Rainbow said. “Manehatten's a big place. Sure she could find something to do.”

Applejack shot her a scolding look.

Rainbow shrugged in response. “I would've,” she said.

“Twilight usually takes things more seriously than you do,” Applejack said.

They were practically doing the talking for me. It gave me an opportunity to lay back and enjoy the evening. A breeze brushed my mane gently. The weather was nice. Much better than Horsmouth. I liked being home again.

I had no intention of telling my friends about that place, of course. I wouldn't honestly answer a single question they would pose. Knowing I would have to straight lie in their face didn't help to cheer me up. Knowing that they cared enough to ask, on the other hoof, did. I was glad to have a place to return to. Couldn't imagine how Trixie coped, being constantly on the road.

And besides, I'd grown good at dodging unwanted questions. It didn't even feel like lying any more.

I looked up at the early evening sky. The stars were, one by one, slowly but surely appearing. When I listened just right, past the banter of my friends, I could hear the sound of animals moving about all around the cottage. I realised, then, that I never really appreciated Fluttershy's choice of habitat before. It was nice, just sitting outside. A mosquito buzzed by my ear and it twitched reflexively. I didn't mind.

It brought to mind how I hadn't noticed a single one back in Horsmouth. I was under the impression that they liked humidity.

No, Twilight, I stopped myself. Forget Horsmouth.

“I'm still worried about that scar on your leg,” Fluttershy said, dragging me back into the conversation.

Her mention of the bite made it hurt again. It must be a mental thing.

“She must have fallen down the stairs,” Rarity said to Fluttershy, looking my way for a second. “She gets ever so clumsy.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Stairs. Fell.” I shook my head clear. “Really, it's fine.”

“Know that I think 'bout it,” Applejack cut in, “I don't think we ever thanked you, Twilight.”

I blinked curiously. “Thanked me? For what?”

“Oh, you know,” Rainbow said.

“No,” I said. “I genuinely have no clue. What did I do?”

Pinkie snickered. “Don't play dumb, Twilight, you can't do it.”

She clearly found the situation much more amusing than I did.

“Thanks for fixin' Rarity,” Applejack said. “You thought we didn't notice, her being so down and all, and then suddenly she's fine?”

“Yeah,” Pinkie added, “Rarity told us all about it.”

I looked at Rarity. “You told them what?”

Luna said she'd blank her, though. She shouldn't remember I helped her at all.

Rarity was red with embarrassment. “I'm very sorry, Twilight. They were incredibly persistent.”

Rainbow puffed out her chest proudly. My jaw was agape.

“You... did what?” I tried to keep calm and look for the right words. “You told them what?” I repeated.

This must be a misunderstanding. I'm just overreacting. Calm down.

“I had to tell them about the rats,” Rarity said. “How they wouldn't let me sleep. Made me climb the walls, the little rodents.”

“No wonder she was so secretive about it,” Applejack said.

“Rats in Rarity's beautiful Carousel Boutique,” Rainbow chortled. “That's one for the ages.”

“She told us you invented some wowy-zowy new spell that helped you find them,” Pinkie said.

“I know we agreed to keep it between us, but....” Rarity said, rolling her eyes, subtly sending me a knowing look.

“Rainbow managed to get it out of her,” Applejack said. “Poor Rarity couldn't lie to us to save her life.”

Applejack's naïveté was nothing short of adorable. Like she hadn't known her for years. I forced a laugh before taking a sip from my tea. “No, I guess not.”

The situation was suspect. All Luna had to do was remove the memories of a night or two from Rarity's mind. I knew for fact she could do that. But inventing—and implanting—new ones? I shuddered to think of the prospect. Whatever the case, there would be no point in it now; Luna had no reason to bother, if she could, if she would.

Yet the other possibility was no less puzzling. Had Luna not blanked Rarity, in the end? Has she decided to spare her, as she spared me, or has she simply not got around to it yet? If it was so, then in light of Rarity's recent lie about the whole affair, Luna would now need to go deeper into her mind to truly erase the incident and all related events. She would need, perhaps, to go after the rest of my friends, too. Just thinking about how deep that rabbit hole could go was making my head spin.

I couldn't very well ask Rarity what she truly remembered, now, could I? And indeed, whatever the truth, it was likely in both our best interest that I did not bring it up. If Rarity lied to protect me, I decided, so be it. If it was conjured-up memories that she was now regurgitating—whether the creation of her troubled mind striving to fill in the blanks, or the product of Luna's colourful imagination—then, as well, so be it.

The only thing I could be certain of, in that moment, was that whatever happened, I was responsible.

“It was no problem, really,” I finally said. “Just doing a friend a favour.”

“Well, it was a great favour,” Rarity said. “Oh, and have I told you yet? Opal's returned as well.”

“Really?” I asked. “That's good news. Where did you find her?”

“She turned up at Sweet Apple Acres. Achin' for a bathin', as Applejack put it.”

“First rats chase her away from home,” Applejack chortled, “and then Winona chases her up a tree. Poor thing.”

“She's fine now, of course.” Rarity nodded. “We all are. Just in time for the gala, too.”

“Oh, the Grand Galloping Gala!” Pinkie shouted excitedly. “I almost forgot, Twilight. Our tickets arrived while you were gone. I've got yours right here.”

Pinkie reached into her puffy mane and began rummaging about. After a short while she pulled out a golden ticket and leaned over the table with the biggest smile on her face, handing it to me. I wasn't even surprised.

“Thank you,” I said. “You know, I keep forgetting about the gala, with all that's been going on lately.”

“It's gonna be super amazing though,” Rainbow said. “At least is should be. Cadence's hosting it this year, you heard about that?”

“Of course,” I said. “Only reason I'm going.”

“Well,” Rarity said, “it shouldn't be too difficult to top last time.”

“I hope Cadence is ready,” Applejack said. “There's only a few days left, after all.”

“You needn't worry,” I said, lifting my cup. “She's been preparing for ages. I'm sure she—”

“Twilight, please!” Fluttershy burst, standing up and leaning on the table.

Everypony fell silent. I put my cup of tea down. When she saw the looks of the others, she snapped her ears back and slowly took her legs off the table.

“I, uhm...” She looked at me sheepishly. “I'd like to talk to you in private, maybe?”

I raised an eyebrow. She looked away for a moment, then back at me again. I sighed, standing up.

“Excuse us,” I said to the others.

Fluttershy opened the door of her house and beckoned me inside.

“I'm so sorry,” Fluttershy muttered as she closed the door behind us. She pulled the curtains on the windows together to keep out the prying eyes of Rainbow Dash.

“What is it, Fluttershy?” I asked. “Come now. You can talk to me.”

“It's... it's not about me, Twilight. It's about you.”

“What's about me?”

She pointed a hoof at my injured leg, looking away to hide her eyes under her mane. I sighed deeply.

“Fluttershy, I told you, it's nothing. You really shouldn't worry so much about a little scar.”

“B-but I noticed how silent you were all evening,” she stuttered. “Since you returned from Manehatten. I just....”

“Please,” I interrupted. “If I say it's fine, it's fine.”

“Y-you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

I turned for the door. Fluttershy didn't move. Just as I put my hoof on the knob, she spoke again.

“You know I work with animals, right?” she whispered.

I took my hoof off the doorknob and looked at her curiously. “Of course.”

“I mean I... I can recognise a bite wound, Twilight.”

I looked at her in silence.

“I also recognise that that's not from an animal,” Fluttershy finished, pointing at my leg again.

I took a deep breath, lifting my other hoof. “Fluttershy, please, calm down.”

“Manehatten, Twilight?” she asked. “Is that why you're so distant? Please, if somepony... if you were....”

She turned away completely, sitting down on the floor and hanging her head. I walked up to her quietly and sat down beside her, putting a hoof around her shoulders. Her face was completely hidden by her hair. I put my other hoof under her chin, lifting her head gently. When she finally opened her eyes and looked at me, I shook my head.

“Don't worry,” I soothed her. “Nothing happened. Believe me.”

“What about your leg, then?” she whispered.

“Don't worry about it. Please. Everything is okay.”

She seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“Thank you for asking,” I continued. “Listen, how about we call this get-together off, for now? You get some rest. And I'll go and get something for this wound. Would that ease your mind?”

She nodded silently.

“I'll go and tell the others,” I said, standing up.

Ruining your friends, one by one, I thought as I walked for the door. Two down, three to go. You're such an amazing pony, Twilight.

My lack of sleep was once again beginning to take its toll. I hadn't slept since that short night in Horsmouth. When Trixie dropped me off at the edge of Ponyville in the early afternoon, I head been eager to return home and just collapse onto my bed and spend the next few days in a coma. Pinkie spotted me before I could reach the library, however, and so a grand reunion was in order.

Now, with that done, I could finally get some rest. Spike was in the library, of course, taking care of business in my place again. He, too, was overjoyed to see me. “How was it?” “What did you do?” “Is everything okay?” “What's with your leg?” His questions were as numerous as one would expect. Answering them felt like a chore.

As much as I hated to admit it, something was abundantly clear: we've grown apart, Spike and I, over the past four years. Occasions such as this, however, also made me feel that I was the only one who really noticed. That, in turn, only made me feel even more guilty. This night just keeps getting better.

I did manage to excuse myself after a few minutes of being questioned; I really did need the sleep. The creaking of the stairs as I walked to my room made me think that the great oak itself was welcoming me home after a long trip. I swung the door of my room open with an exhausted—but nonetheless forceful—kick.

The door leading to the balcony also stood wide open, letting in the cool air of a young night. I didn't bother to close it. Throwing my black bag carelessly in the corner, I crashed into the bed. It wasn't made. I didn't care.

Silence.

Away from the whirling sounds of Trixie's unreal machine, away from the lovingly annoying chatter of my friends and the buzzing ambience of the evening town, I lay on my bed. The only sound that entered my ears now was that of my breathing. With nothing to distract my brain, the burning pain returned in my scars.

After a while, I reached forward clumsily, pulling a decorative cushion closer. I slowly lifted my head and then let it fall onto the cushion. A rush of cold chilled my body. Pulling up quickly, I found a rasp lying on the cushion. A simple, metal rasp, with an old wooden handle. I furrowed my brows. What's this doing here? No, hold on. I've seen this before....

The door creaked behind me. I turned around just in time to see a familiar, grey-and-white stallion closing it.

“Omen?”

His apparent ability to appear in my room without my notice was much more disturbing than it was surprising; indeed, last we met, that mammoth of a stallion had demonstrated his habit of being where he shouldn't be. Fine, I figured, I'll play along. If I cannot keep Omen from forcing himself into my life, I might as well go with the flow. So long as he seems harmless, anyway.

“What do you want?” I asked, hopping off my bed.

“A pleasure to see you too, Miss Sparkle,” he responded in his usual, playfully condescending tone. “Word of advice, you may want to keep your voice down. We don't want to rouse the dragon below, now do we?”

As much as I hated his attitude, I had to admit he was right. I wouldn't have wanted to explain the presence of a mysterious stallion in my room at such a late hour to anypony, and especially not to Spike.

“I'm in no mood for your games, Omen,” I whispered, walking closer. “What do you want?”

“Straight to business, I see.” He grinned. “I like that in you. Very forward.”

“Do not make me ask again.”

“Oh, lighten up.” He waved a dismissive hoof. “Is that any way to greet an old acquaintance after such a long trip? Though I must say, I am definitely glad you still remember me. And considering that I don't seem to have Luna's dogs sniffing after me, I'm going to assume you believed my words after all. Am I right, Miss Sparkle?”

“I did not make that choice lightly. Do not overestimate my faith in you.”

He smiled cheekily, walking around me and hopping onto my bed. As he sat down, the bed creaked under his robust size; for a moment, I was afraid it would snap in half. Omen himself didn't seem to notice, or particularly care. He only looked at me with the anticipation of a little colt expecting a bedtime story from his mother.

“I'm all ears to hear the tale,” he said.

I sighed. I couldn't decide whether it was wrong or strangely appropriate that the one pony I'd reveal my secrets to was a complete stranger.

“Intriguing,” Omen said. “And your report, you haven't written it yet?”

“No,” I answered. “Trixie should still be under the impression that I will, though.”

“And the townsfolk?”

“She said they have no clue what happened. Total memory loss for the past weeks.”

“So Luna should remain ignorant of the events in Horsmouth.”

“For a while, at least. I fully expect her to mine the minds of some citizens, looking for the odd scraps of memory. She's going to piece it together, given time.”

“Are you certain you're going to stay quiet? It will get you in trouble.”

“Are you trying to awaken my conscience, Omen?” I raised an eyebrow. “As I recall, you put the bug in my ear to begin with.”

“You don't trust her. I'm sorry to hear that. I only wish the best for all of us, including her.”

“So you tell me, then,” I asked him point blank. “Do you believe there's a chance that Luna is really behind this all? Would she give her hair to some lunatic to make monsters?”

“And then send you to find that monster? No point in that, now is there?” He put a hoof to his chin, thinking for a moment. “Unless she was feeling guilty. That could mean she's struggling against herself.”

“Or perhaps she wanted me to die.”

I said that last sentence without much thought; a reflexive response to feeling threatened. Omen's eyes widened as he raised his brows in surprise. His expression reminded me that perhaps I shouldn't let my mouth work faster than my brain. By this point I was already feeling terrible about it.

“That is... a serious accusation,” he said. “It would make sense, however. She couldn't bring herself to blank you, but she doesn't want you probing around. It would be a logical solution. Well, logical for an insane mare.”

I really did not need that validation.

“Whatever the case,” he continued, “we must tread lightly. And quickly.”

“What is this we, now, Omen?”

“Take this as a compliment if you wish, Miss Sparkle: you are important. And, I believe, I know just how to continue.”

I sighed deeply. I didn't like that word, continue. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have had a problem; chasing monsters and hunting cultists had long been my way of life, after all. Yet now it was different. It wasn't the cultists that frightened me, or their rituals, monsters, sacrifices, but the looming shadow of Nightmare Moon—of Luna—over it all. Meddling with wild theories of conspiracy and fallen princesses wasn't what I signed on for. After Horsmouth, I just wanted out of it, all of it.

For the first time that night, Omen appeared serious. He stepped off the bed and walked up close to me. As he looked into my eyes, I couldn't help but take a step back in fright.

“Miss Sparkle,” he whispered, “you do understand the magnitude of what's happening, don't you?” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. “If Princess Luna is losing herself again....”

“You needn't lecture me,” I responded, pushing him away. “I realise what's at stake. With all due respect, I think I know more about Nightmare Moon than you do, Omen.”

He smiled. “Perhaps you do.” He turned and walked several steps before looking at me again. “What is the issue, then?” he asked.

“The same as ever. Who are you? You cannot reasonably expect me to trust you before you answer that. You come to my town, you show up in my room, you climb into my bed, and then you would have me follow your instructions in a matter that is admittedly beyond the understanding of either of us. And you're asking me, what's the issue?”

“You've trusted me in the past,” he replied nonchalantly. “Why stop now?”

“That does not answer my question, Omen.”

“In a situation such as this, Miss Sparkle, you take what you get.”

If it hadn't been for Spike being below, I'd have been yelling at this point. But alas, I wasn't allowed to. So I resorted to the other end of the spectrum, and instead refused to say one more word. Omen stared at me inquisitively for a while. It wouldn't coax a response from me, however.

“I am a friend,” he finally said. “A friend of yours, and of Luna's. That's all you need to know for now. I wish to help.”

I tilted my head questioningly.

“You mentioned one Monsoon Descent. Some pegasus noble, reputed to be from Commander Hurricane's line. They referred to him as a prophet, correct? And he took part in the creation of the monster of Horsmouth. To the best of your knowledge, he's currently in Cloudsdale. Isn't that right?”

I nodded slowly.

Omen took a few steps closer again. “I know him.”

I had been to Cloudsdale in the past. Just before Rainbow Dash performed a sonic rainboom at the Best Young Fliers, my friends and I paid her a visit and wished her the best of luck. We even visited the Weather Factory; I remember I was quite amazed by the hoofmade snowflakes. The city hadn't changed much since then, yet this time it was, somehow, different.

Reminding me of fresh snow, the plush clouds held my hooves softly, my cloudwalking spell working its magic once again. Almost exactly a day after my meeting with Omen, I stepped out onto a ledge overlooking the flying city. As the Sun set beyond the horizon, I marvelled at the expertise of the city's architects. I will not pretend to be an expert on cloud-engineering, but even I could tell that what I saw was something special; something you couldn't see on the ground.

Horsmouth needed the steep slopes of the Teeth to climb into the air. Cloudsdale, for all intents and purposes, was made of air. The cloud I stood on was a landing platform for flying carriages or rented balloons: a simple pony's way of reaching the sky. The multi-layered city was laid out before me with all its vast drops and heavenly heights. Scattered in the air were innumerable clouds big and small, houses and shops and towers standing on each, connected by white bridges and arched walkways to cater to any visitor who might not possess the gift of flight. Save for those bits of courtesy, however, the city had clearly been designed with wings in mind.

The clouds moved and collided, attaching and de-attaching to and from one another. Bridges formed and crumbled before my eyes. A patch of cloud rose from below, coming to level with my cloud, and I stepped over, putting my faith into the city's creators. Surely the clouds will not separate while somepony crosses from one to the other.

The cloud then moved again, taking me with itself, soon arriving at the what looked to be the centre of the city in all three dimensions. Gift shops greeted me from every direction, begging me to buy a souvenir of my time in the flying city. I proceeded past them, walking from cloud to cloud, content with merely committing the sights to memory.

During my previous visit, I never stopped to consider that Cloudsdale was a real city. Ponies worked in Cloudsdale, that much I knew, for how else would Equestria receive its supply of rain and wind every day? Indeed, the Weather Factory was just ahead, still churning out rainbows as the night began. The chromatic liquid spewed high into the air from the many chimneys, leaving a cascading trail of colour in the sky as the city flew above the land. But only walking past, looking at how the enormous city surrounded and engulfed me, did I come to realise that ponies really lived in Cloudsdale.

Down to my left, an enormous cloud held what appeared to be a residential area: many streets stretched beside and above one another, slanting and turning in odd ways. Indeed, the complex below was more reminiscent of a spider's web than your usual city; the many walkways served as the web itself and the homes as the trapped flies. Above to the right, cloud-towers reached high into the sky, twisting and bending in impossible angles.

It was that transitional period, again, between light and darkness. For some ponies, the day was ending; for others, it was just beginning. Looking one way, I saw a suited pegasus hastily loosening his tie as he fell gracefully towards the block of cloud-houses. Turning the other way, I saw a group of teens flying around white pillars with dark bottles in their hooves, laughing and yelling with and at each other. I wondered whether drinking and flying was a socially accepted hobby for young pegasi.

I let the kids have their fun, continuing on my way towards the higher parts of the city. I thought I could discern a pattern in how different buildings looked. The higher I was, the more extravagant they seemed. Rather than a single cloud housing many homes, many buildings now seemed to have their very own patch of cloud.

Clouds seemed to allow for otherwise impossible shapes. Some houses seemed to have rooms that weren't attached to the main architectural body, instead simply floating beside their respective buildings, or sometimes circling around them gently so as to cradle whoever is inside; a stark contrast to the simple cloud-apartments I had seen on lower levels. Dimmed lights escaped the white walls, and this scattered light blended with the night's rapidly encroaching darkness, creating an eerily beautiful city-vista.

Indeed, the gradual change from the low-class areas to higher ones was fascinating.

And there, somewhere between rich and poor, taking up a moderately sized cloud, was a small bar with a tacky neon sign up top. The ambiguously named “Lose Tavern” soaked up the best of both worlds as pegasi from all walks of life gathered there for their nightly drink. I heard what sounded like live music emanating from within; a catchy tune, but not interesting enough to entice me inside. I leaned against the wall beside the entrance and awaited the arrival of my accomplice.

At the edge of the cloud, a lone drunkard in tattered clothes appeared to be physically beating himself up, punching his own face repeatedly before kicking his legs out from under himself. I could only shake my head in puzzlement.

“Takes all kinds to build a world, doesn't it?” came a booming voice from behind me.

I turned my head towards Omen. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on ponies?”

“It is rather amusing,” he said. He then looked down at his hooves, shifting his weight around a few times. “What do you know, you really can make the spell last over a day. You never cease to impress, Miss Sparkle.”

I stepped away from the wall and walked to the edge of the platform. In the distance, a lone cloud floated above the city, perhaps even higher than others, giving foundation to a large building. That was the private home of Monsoon Descent. The mansion wasn't the biggest building I had seen in the city, yet its elevated status was a clear indication of its importance. Or, perhaps, its owner's self-importance.

Omen never revealed much as to how he knew Monsoon Descent. All he said was that he visited him once, a long time ago, regarding a small matter “not entirely unlike ours.” Every time Omen refused to give me a straight answer, my conviction that I was walking into a trap only strengthened. Even so, that somehow seemed preferable than accusing Luna of propagating murder again. Perhaps I had lost my mind.

“Are you sure you wish to accompany me?” Omen asked. “I can do this on my own.”

“I bet you can, Omen. But I want to be there. I need to be there.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to prove you wrong. I want to see evidence that Luna is entirely innocent. That the crazies of the cult are just that: crazy. And I'll beat that confession out of Monsoon with my own hooves if I have to.”

Omen raised an eyebrow. “And then what?” he asked plainly.

“Then?” I asked. “Then... I'll turn him in to Luna. That's the best thing to do.”

“Considering what you told me, about the children of Horsmouth, you are being awfully generous. I thought you'd like to handle the matter differently.”

“You have your standards, and I have my own. I suggest you remember that going forward.”

“I will, Miss Sparkle.”

With that, we began our way towards the mansion in the sky.

We arrived on the cloud-island in a flash of light.

While Cloudsdale buildings were famous for their elongated forms and high towers, the floating mansion took up relatively little vertical space. This discovery helped put my mind at ease; I had been previously afraid that navigating the interior would prove challenging, considering my bothersome lack of wings.

The mansion stood at the middle of the cloud; the rest of the island was filled with statues glorifying Monsoon's bloodline. White patches protruded from the floor, twisting into different shapes. These cloud-memorials were enormous depictions of warriors and great commanders, towering weightlessly above the visitors below.

Brandishing large spears and swords and old battle-armour, they were reminders of the warring ages long gone. Under the rule of the Two Sisters, few were the pegasi still proud of their murderous heritage. This vulgar display of power spoke volumes about the owner of this private palace.

As we neared the mansion, I noticed that the lights weren't on inside, save for a single, small window on the top floor.

“So, no staff, you say?” I asked Omen. “Not a single maid or servant?”

“None that I know of,” he replied. “Monsoon is far too proud to let anypony touch his family's legacy, save for special occasions. He attends to the home all by himself.”

As we reached the main door, Omen motioned for me to walk around the building; he would get inside on his own and open a window for me. Just how he intended to do that, he wouldn't reveal. In the end, I had to follow his instructions, going around the back of the mansion. Two turns to the left, at the third window.

The way pegasi blended traditional architecture with the clouds still amazed me. The walls of the mansion were made of some solid cloud hard enough to stop one from pushing inside. The window by which I stood, however, was made of glass, much like one you'd find on the ground. I tried looking inside, but it was far too dark to make anything out. I tapped a hoof impatiently, kicking up a misty patch of cloud.

The window opened for me, and a dark-grey hoof reached out to help me inside. Closing the window behind myself, I cast a spell to create a small orb of light, bright enough to light our way but dim enough not to shine through the walls. We were, I discovered, within a large room filled with bookshelves; Monsoon's private library. Omen sent me a smile.

“I figured this would be the place you'd like to see first,” he said.

“Very considerate of you,” I said. “Do you happen to know where he keeps his copy of Compiled Confessions of a Cultist?”

“I'm afraid I don't. But I think you will find that their choice of reading can reveal a lot about a pony.”

I'm also a librarian, you know. “That so?”

“Consider this, Miss Sparkle: it's the middle of the night, and we're dealing with a pony who clearly doesn't care much for security. So long as we don't make too big of a commotion, we have all the time to look. Even if we find nothing of value, we can... go exploring in relative safety.”

“Relative, huh?”

The ball of light I created flew up high and began to float slowly around of the room, scanning the interior. I saw that the room was an elongated rectangular shape with bookshelves lining the walls and a long table in the middle. Unlit chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A large, ornate door stood at the far side.

“You watch the door,” I instructed Omen. “I'll look around.”

The orb descended and came to float beside me as I began inspecting the shelves more closely. For the sheer amount of books in that room, the topics were nowhere near varied; all of them seemed to have to do with the study of history. Organised not by author or title, they were arranged instead in chronological order, as relative to their specified era of interest.

I found books talking about the times before the Three Tribes, then the rise and rule of Commander Hurricane. There were accounts from dozens of different historians related to life in those ancient ages, and I found many a tome describing old politics. Then there was the Long Winter, the time of Windingos, and founding of Equestria.

I picked out books from the shelves at random, opening and turning their pages in hopes of finding something of value. No matter which book I picked, it appeared they had been read cover to cover multiple times; I recognise a well-used book when I see one. Curious were also the many hastily scribbled notes I saw written on random pages. See this book, page that, look at this, compare that, find it here, contradicts that, can't be right.... Numerous such notes had apparently been left by Monsoon Descent to himself. Clearly, the stallion had spent a lot of time researching the past.

“How old did you say he was?” I asked Omen, putting a book back to its place.

“Definitely older than you,” he replied, “but not ancient. I can't give you an exact number.”

“Hmm,” I pondered.

When I reached the books about the time of Nightmare Moon, I finally found something that didn't quite belong. Among titles such as “The Myth of the Mare in the Moon” and “The Elements of Harmony,” one tome stood out. I pulled it carefully from the shelf to take a closer look. In such a deliberately organised library, why would a book seemingly more related to medicine—“Illnesses Throughout Equestrian History”—be placed right here?

“Found something?” Omen asked.

“Perhaps,” I said, walking to the table and putting the book down.

The title of the piece wasn't at all deceptive. It was a simple catalogue of medical trends as they appeared in history. The table of contents was peculiar; Monsoon had apparently underlined a single line there, and followed up by placing three exclamation marks beside it. The line simply read “Insanity.”

I turned to the listed page, and found it crossed out by several long lines of heavy ink. From what I could still read, it defined vague concepts such as “madness” and “insanity” by strict, scientific terms and applied those definitions to symptoms one might find today. I turned the page, only to find more of the same: entire pages were crossed out, crinkled or outright torn. It wasn't until the very end of this segment that I found an untouched page. On this last page, there was a small mention of the origin of the word “lunacy.” The author claimed that the word sprung into common usage sometime before the end of the First Era of the Two Sisters, thereby placing it not long before Nightmare Moon's banishment into the Moon.

Folklore has it—or so the author wrote—that there was an odd spike in “insanity” in those years. Ponies exhibited symptoms of schizophrenia or multiple personalities, and many unicorns talked about unusual magical surges, and casting spells without meaning to. There was a passing mention of how the ponies of the time attributed the phenomena to different magical creatures; tales of vampires and werewolves spread like wildfire at the time. This rapid escalation of hysteria ultimately resulted in the death—by way of either murder or suicide—of hundreds, many a witch trial, all before peaking with the Longest Night and slowly settling after Nightmare Moon's defeat.

I looked up from the book. “There are dark times coming.”

“What was that?” Omen asked.

“It's what you told me when we first met. That this is what you've been hearing: that there are dark times coming.”

“Well, some of my acquaintances do have the tendency to exaggerate things.”

I didn't answer him. Instead, I rushed past many shelves, skipping over a millennium's worth of history until I reached the end: present day. What I found at the very end of the shelf weren't history books, but scraps of papers, letters and newspaper clippings. The stack lit up in purple light and flew from the shelf, scattering mid-air. One by one, they passed before my eyes.

First, there were the letters. Monsoon Descent had apparently been exchanging mail with several ponies across the country. There were letters from major cities such as Las Pegasus, as did I find ones written by ponies in small towns like Dodge Junction. And, of course, I found Mayor Bloomingshine's letters from distant Horsmouth. All of them spoke about a sudden onset of mental troubles; nightmares, paranoia, and at times outright hallucination. All around Equestria, ponies were being affected by this psychological plague.

The ponies didn't seem to know about the others, yet I began seeing a pattern in their replies to Monsoon Descent. From the look of it, he had asked them all the same, or at least similar, questions, like a scientist conducting an experiment without the subject's knowledge. The letters stated, in almost all cases, that the symptoms have been there for a long time before, albeit they were largely ignorable, only increasing in intensity throughout the past few years. Curiously, it appeared that it was Monsoon Descent who reached out to all of these ponies, not the other way around. How he knew about their troubles, I had no idea.

These discoveries were as interesting as they were troubling. Yet they weren't what I was looking for.

Omen shot me a concerned look. “What is it?”

I ignored him still, turning my attention to the newspaper cutouts that swirled around me. Headlines and articles, each no older than four years, showed themselves to me one by one.

Colt Jumps From Fifth Storey in the Manehatten Times; Young Couple Goes Missing from Colthagen Weekly; Mare Claims She's Seen Ghost in Fillydelphia Daily News; Trottingham Filly Ravaged! Animal Loose in City?; Mass Hysteria in Manehatten Leaves 3 Dead.

Many unexplained events have happened in Equestria's major cities, it seemed, all within that vaguely defined spectrum of four years. Yet amidst all this, Canterlot remained awfully quiet. I knew, however, that I would find at least one headline from our great capital. It took me some more shifting through the papers, but I finally got it. All other scraps of paper lost their purple glow and fell to the ground. I didn't bother stacking them up again.

“Mother of Two and Lover Murdered in Crime of Passion!” I read the headline aloud. “Husband Commits Suicide,” I read the subtitle.

“Miss Sparkle....” Omen whispered cautiously.

“So this is how the world remembers it,” I said. I promised myself I would be strong, yet my voice cracked as I spoke. I didn't like that. “This is the oldest. It's just like you said in Ponyville. They were the first.”

As he walked closer, Omen picked up some of the papers from the ground and looked them over. “It's been happening everywhere.”

“But you said it yourself!” I snapped. “Everything is pointing towards Canterlot. Your... contacts, whoever they are. And then these, these reports of, of things happening everywhere but there.”

“The eye of the storm.”

“Eye of the storm indeed.” I sighed. “But why them? Why my parents?”

“Make no mistake, I definitely understand that you're upset with what happened. But in the grand scheme of things, your parents were just that: the first. It could have been anypony.”

“It's significant,” I mumbled. “It has to be....”

“You're looking for a conspiracy when coincidence is explanation enough.”

“Look at this!”

The copy of Illnesses flew up from the table and levitated towards Omen, showing him the page on “lunacy.” He skimmed the segment, then looked at me as the book returned to the table.

“If this book is to be believed,” I explained, “then all of this has happened before. Right before....”

Omen took a deep breath. “Are you suggesting that Nightmare Moon is indeed returning?”

“I don't know what I believe any more, Omen. I don't even know what my questions are.”

I looked up, closing my eyes for a moment. I took a deep breath and let that last newspaper clipping fall as well. Then I looked Omen in the eye.

“All I know is that the answers won't come from books.”

“What would you like to do, then?”

“I want to go exploring.”

I was prepared to fight if I had to. I would make Monsoon Descent beg for his life if needed be. Not only for what he's done at Horsmouth, no; when I found the newspaper clipping about the death of my parents, the matter became personal. Why them? Why now? What is he trying to accomplish? I bet he enjoys it, the suffering he causes. These “cultists” deserve no mercy.

I was used to creaky staircases: the dead giveaway of the sneaky intruder. That I could ascend the mansion's cloud-stairs without making the slightest sound was a comforting surprise. What little noise Omen and I did make was muffled entirely by the cottonesque clouds. We passed several storeys on our way upwards until we reached the final level. A single door stood not far from the end of the stairs, with faint light escaping the room at its edges.

Omen looked at me. “Are you certain?” he whispered.

“I am,” I replied.

With a deep breath, I stepped to the door and lifted my hoof for the handle. The door opened before I could reach it, and the light flooded out, revealing a pegasus within.

Skin and bones, that's all he was. I was surprised that those thin legs could even carry their owner's weight. His deep blue coat was faded and greying, and his wings were almost featherless. In his eyes, what should have been white was a dark shade of yellow. Around his neck, a strange amulet hung: a small, blue-tinted glass tube. Something was clearly inside, although I couldn't tell what. He tilted his maneless head and gave me a warm smile.

“Mister Descent?” Omen asked, stepping forward.

He nodded at him. “I am.” He squinted his eyes. “Is that you, Omen?” His words were sluggish and barely louder than a whisper; whether out of sickness or choice, was a mystery to me.

“It is indeed,” Omen said. “Goodness, you've... changed.”

I looked at the pegasus before me in confusion. This is Monsoon Descent? This pitiable, sick stallion? Here I was expecting a great warrior, and instead I get but a twisted parody of the ancestors he so glorified.

“And you haven't changed one bit,” Monsoon chortled in a waning voice. “But yes, much has happened to me since we last met. I may have let myself go a bit.”

He and Omen laughed like old friends.

“Oh, yes,” Omen continued. “I hear you're with the wrong crowd these days.”

“And just who told you that?”

“She,” Omen said, pointing at me, “is Twilight Sparkle. That Twilight Sparkle.”

Monsoon eyed me up and down. “Oh! A pleasure to meet you.”

He smiled again, extending a hoof. I knocked it away without a second thought.

“Bit of a sour cherry, isn't she?” Monsoon asked, pulling his hoof back.

“She's just a bit upset,” Omen said.

“But I'm sure she has a good reason to be here,” Monsoon said. “Oh, where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

With that, he turned his back and walked back into the room, beckoning us inside. I looked at Omen questioningly; he lifted his hoof in response, pointing at the door.

“Ladies first,” he said.

I sighed, entering the room. It was an oddly small space; doubly so, considering the size of the mansion otherwise. A small fireplace burned at the side, venting smoke directly into the sky. An armchair stood by the wall opposite to the door, which Monsoon soon took, painstakingly dragging himself into the seat. Another chair stood just past the door, meant for me, perhaps, although I opted not to sit. At the other side, a desk stood beneath the solitary window. Omen took his place there, leaning casually against the desk.

“So,” Monsoon began, “what brings your here?”

“I've been to Horsmouth,” I replied. “And I know what you did. You and Bloomingshine.”

Monsoon looked questioningly at Omen, who in turn batted his eyebrows at him. Monsoon looked back at me.

“She would prefer the name Nichts, I believe,” Monsoon said. Clearly, he knew what I was talking about.

“She will not prefer anything,” I said. “She is dead, O Prophet Nie, as is your abomination. What you did to the people of Horsmouth, to the children... have you anything to say?”

He looked down and smiled before responding. “It was a beautiful thing. It proved there is still hope.”

“Hope?!” I snapped. “Hope for what?”

“That the Mother might still return.”

“Listen to me,” I said, walking to him. “You cut that talk out right now, or I swear I'll tear your limbs off.”

He leaned back in his chair. “If you really meant that, you'd have done it already.” His friendly smile turned into a defiant sneer.

“You're right. I won't.” I leaned closer, putting my hoof under his chin. “Not as long as you're useful.”

“You should listen to her,” Omen said. “Getting on her bad side isn't something you want to do, believe me.”

Monsoon continued grinning. “Ask, then.”

That little bit of intimidation loosened his tongue. Before much prodding, he proceeded to tell me of his life; how he was born a healthy young pegasus, perfect to perpetuate the well-preserved bloodline. Strong in both body and mind, and of such heritage, his life was to be an easy one, much like his parents, and their parents, going back over a thousand years.

But he was different from those who came before. All his life, he had a way of “knowing things.” Lucky coincidences, intuition; it didn't matter what one wished to call it. Such a claim would have been hard to believe, had he not guessed that I, too, had a friend that can apparently sense the future. Much like her “Pinkie sense,” Monsoon's abilities were accepted by the select few who even noticed.

It wasn't until around five years prior, so Monsoon said, that he himself started paying attention to his “gift.” The news of the changeling invasion shook Equestria, and not long afterwards, Monsoon began being plagued by nightmares and visions. He realised, over time, that these weren't just dreams, but cries for help; that he wasn't the only one suffering. This is what drove him to seek others out. First he only sent out letters, but as the years passed, he felt the need to see these ponies in person as well, travelling across the country. He met the Children of the Night during these years, and it did not take him long to convert to their “faith.” As his physical condition rapidly deteriorated, his “other” abilities evolved.

He confirmed my suspicion that all of this has happened before, before Nightmare Moon's rise and banishment a thousand years ago. In Monsoon's mind, the coming of a “new dark age” was inevitable, and he only played his necessary, “noble” part in the grand scheme. He firmly believed that the “dark alicorn” would rise once again.

Strangely enough, he never referred to Luna, or even Nightmare Moon by name, preferring to use vague terms such as “the Mother.” When I questioned this, he explained that the names are irrelevant; that what's truly important is the idea, their concept. The cult revered all alicorns as though they were gods. For them, their very existence was a gift from above, and their “eternal struggle” was romanticised to the point of fanaticism.

Monsoon collected newspapers and listened to the whispering gossips of all cities he had visited. In the end, he traced the string of horrible events all around Equestria to their origin: Canterlot. The brutal murder of my mother and her lover, followed by my father's suicide, seemed to be the catalyst of it all. Or, at least, the first domino to be knocked over. How they were relevant, even Monsoon couldn't say. To him, it never mattered.

All throughout, I noticed how eager he was to answer my questions; far more eager than that slight intimidation would warrant. He seemed to enjoy telling me about his deeds, and I didn't see the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. Either his mind was completely gone, or he knew even more than he was letting on.

The last, and perhaps most important matter to settle was that of the beast of Horsmouth.

“What of the monster you and Bloomingshine created?” I asked. “Was it really made from the hair of Luna?”

“The dark alicorn gave me her hair herself,” Monsoon answered, pointing at his amulet. “She wanted us to make use of it. Oh, the things we've done.”

I ripped the amulet from his neck and took a closer look at it. Indeed, the thing inside the small tube resembled a patch of hair.

I shivered. Coldness rushed down my spine, making me drop the thing.

“Careful,” Monsoon said. “Perhaps you, being a unicorn, are more sensitive to its powers.”

Even after letting go of the amulet, my legs shivered and my heart raced. The thing lay on the floor motionlessly, yet somehow invitingly. I was at the same time repulsed and compelled by the amulet. I took it into my hooves again, carefully, feeling that indescribable sensation course through me, mesmerising me with its strength. For a brief moment, I felt more powerful than I ever had. With that amulet around my neck, I thought, I could do anything.

Then I snapped out of it. When I looked at my hooves, the amulet was gone. Omen cleared his throat behind me, putting the amulet onto the desk.

“Perhaps,” he said, “this isn't the right time to inspect that thing.”

Monsoon was grinning. “See?”

I took a deep breath, denying Monsoon the pleasure of agreeing with him. “The things you've done?” I then asked, quickly coming back on topic. “Are there more beasts out there?”

“As I recall,” Omen cut in, “on the night I first met Miss Sparkle, something most peculiar happened, also connected to the Children of the Night. The dead don't usually rise from their graves, do they, Mister Descent?

“Omen is sharp as ever,” Monsoon answered. “Yes. It only took a single hair as well. The concoction needed only to be sprinkled into the rain vats over at the Weather Factory. The rest was done for us.”

“But why?” I asked. “Why do all this?”

“To show that we could,” he replied. “To show the world that the end is near.”

“If the end of the world were really to come, I hardly believe it would need your assistance in making its presence known.”

“Will that be all?” he asked.

“Are there more of you in Cloudsdale?”

“Not any more.”

“Where?”

“Wherever they need to be.”

He just wouldn't stop grinning. I was on fire inside. They defile the dead, they murder children and enslave others, and they're proud of it! All I wanted to do was to wipe that smug smile from his face.

“What are you waiting for?” Monsoon asked, looking at my shaking hoof. “You can't bring yourself to do it, can you? I know you want to hurt me. You want to kill me. But I'm not making it easy, am I, just sitting here? Maybe if I fought back, or struggled, just a little bit, then you'd have an excuse. But not this way, and that's driving you mad, isn't it?”

He leaned in close to my face, nearly touching his nose to mine, still wearing that same, arrogant grin.

“You see,” he said, “this is why I'm not afraid. You won't hurt me. And you won't give me to your Princess Luna, because you know she knows already. It might be hard to accept, but you'll have to: she's letting us do what we do.”

I lifted a hoof. I was ready to ram it into him. One kick would have been enough to break his withered bones, to cave his head in. I liked the thought.

“Even if you brought yourself to it,” Monsoon said, “what then? I'm not the only one. I'm not even the most important. All you would have on your hooves afterwards is more blood.”

Letting my hoof down, I hung my head in defeat. For all the years that I had spent chasing monsters, it seemed, I never managed to become one.

“The door is still open,” Monsoon said. “Just leave. It's the best you can do.”

I felt a hoof on my shoulder. I looked up to see Omen. He then presented the amulet to me.

“Indeed, Miss Sparkle. Why don't you step outside for a moment?”

When I looked back at Monsoon, he wasn't smiling any more. Even for the so-called prophet, it seemed, Omen was full of surprises. I looked at Omen again, taking the amulet. He nodded at me reassuringly. I knew better than to ask.

I walked outside, taking one last look at the two stallions in the room. Monsoon sunk into his chair as Omen towered above him. I closed the door behind myself and tried not to listen.

To further take my mind off that matter, I took a look at the amulet again. I found that the underside of the tube could be opened, and so I did, using my magic to carefully take out the lock of hair that was within. I brought the patch to my eyes, inspecting it closely. What I found, however, was more frightening than I could ever have imagined.

For the lock of hair was not dark blue, but pink with a yellow stripe.

Secure, Contain, Break In

Chapter 9:
Secure, Contain, Break In

I didn't know what Omen did to the body. That is, I did not know what Omen did; or that is what I told myself, then. All I knew is that when he walked out of that room, he lost that disturbingly bright attitude that I had grown so used to. I showed him the hair, and he was puzzled. I never thought I'd see the day. He understood what it meant, as did I.

Princess Cadence was somehow involved. Did she give Monsoon her hair? Did Luna? Monsoon's ambiguous testimony left much to our guessing. Part of me—heck, most of me—didn't even want to find out. For what were the implications of the discovery? Something was happening in Equestria. Nightmare Moon, Luna, Cadence, the cult, sanity, insanity... perhaps a new dark age was on the horizon. I considered telling Princess Celestia, but then I figured, she might be involved as well. How was I to know? I felt that I should simply let go. Warn my friends and flee, perhaps. The Griffin Kingdoms seemed rather inviting. I'd only have to get used to a more meat-oriented diet. It's not like we couldn't digest it....

Yet there was this feeling at the back of my mind—that last remaining remnant of my foalhood—that didn't let me rest. Once upon a time, it had led me to discover the myth of Nightmare Moon and the Elements of Harmony. It had introduced me to my friends. Indeed, it had saved Equestria before. Perhaps this time is no different.

I dared not return to Ponyville after Cloudsdale. It had all been too much. Omen promised he would help out—pull a few strings, he said—and bade farewell. Always in a hurry, that stallion, somewhere to be, somepony to meet. When the Sun rose, I was on solid ground again, and Omen was long gone.

By the time the Sun set again, I was in the one place I shouldn't have been: slumming away my time in the Mental Ward. I remembered Luna's warning about returning to Canterlot. I also knew that the princess—or princesses—wouldn't look for me there. Sitting on the dirty barstool, my thoughts muffled by the club's deafening music, hidden past an ocean of raving bodies, I was so close to them, yet we were worlds apart.

How odd that this club, of all places, would serve to be my safe haven in troubled times.

The temptation to order something other than the filthy tapwater they had—indeed, to drown all my troubles in alcohol—rose by the minute. I knew better than to go down that road, though. I had business to see to.

Vinyl Scratch did not see me come in. She never did. Presently I was intrigued by her feeding procedure. I recalled she was of Nupraptim blood; a vampire “clan,” as they called themselves, whose descendants were said to hold powers over the minds of other ponies. To what extent these powers went depended greatly on the individuals, both vampire and victim. I don't think I need to give much explanation as to why Vinyl's attempts at charming a drunken pony were disturbingly amusing.

She was out there, on the dance floor, grinding against the uncountable mass of ponies having their fun. After a while, my eyes adjusted to the rapidly flashing lights, and I could follow Vinyl's movements with relative ease. Her target was a mare dancing alone—as alone as you can be in such a crowded place, anyway—and she soon made her move. She got her attention by stepping in close, and I could see that the way she twisted her forehooves was more than just the club's fitting dance routine. She waved the mare closer, and closer, until she finally lifted her sunglasses and leaned in, fixing her gaze in the victim's eyes.

I put my glass of water down and stood up. Picking up my black saddlebag from under the barstool, I whipped it over my back and made my way over to the wobbling bodies on the dance floor.

Vinyl's prey went numb and she collapsed into her hooves. It appeared I was the only one to notice, or perhaps fainting was such a common occurrence in the club that it surprised nopony anymore. Vinyl adjusted the mare's head, letting it fall gently over her hoof, exposing her neck. She opened her mouth wide and bared her fangs, ready to bite. Vinyl's head came down fast, but a purple glow yanked her wild neon-hair upwards, stopping the fangs from reaching their targeted artery.

“Brushed your teeth recently?” I asked her, still holding her head up with my magic.

“Yes! Celestia damn,” she yelled back, either out of anger or simply to be heard over the music. Perhaps a little bit of both.

“Good.” I nodded. “Now let her go.”

“What?!” She attempted to bite her neck again, but I wouldn't let her.

“I said let her go!” I repeated, making sure she got that. “You, me, Octavia, your room. Now!”

She struggled a bit more, pretending she didn't hear. When a few more pulls at her hair assured her that I wasn't letting up, she reluctantly let the limp mare fall to the ground, groaning loudly. I levitated the mare and carefully placed her beside the dance floor—she wasn't getting trampled on my account—before following Vinyl's lead to her dressing room.

I leaned on Vinyl's dressing table, my bag on the floor to the side. I pushed my wounded cheek up and down gently. This light massage helped with that constant, numb pain, I found. “Isn't it midnight yet?” I asked.

For a lack of a reflection, I had to turn my head to see Vinyl pacing nervously before the window; still broken since her previous attempt at an escape.

“If Tavi's not here, no it isn't,” she replied.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes! She gets very anal about time. She's never late.”

“Hmm.” I turned back and continued looking at my scar in the mirror. “What is she even doing all night? Or where?”

“Like I know. I'm just glad I don't have to babysit her twenty-four-seven.”

“Don't you like her company?”

“It's not like that.” If she hadn't been long dead, I imagined she'd have been blushing. “It's just, the only thing worse than a Devorador is a fledgeling Devorador.”

“Oh?” I put up my injured hoof and began examining the bite wound. It seemed to be healing well.

“'Cause it's always solitude this, animalism that. City's got everything we want. Food, shelter, everything! And they'd still rather just go walk around in the woods or something. Those vamps just ain't right in the head, I say.”

“That's not very nice of you to say,” a new voice cut in.

I stopped looking at my wounds, turning to the newly arrived Octavia. She sat on a chair by the opposite wall, her legs crossed comfortably.

“And I really, really wish she'd stop doing that,” Vinyl said, pointing at her accusingly.

“It's always nice to see you as well,” Octavia replied. She then turned to me. “The very same, Miss Twilight.”

I nodded at her in greeting. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Oh, will you two stop?” Vinyl groaned.

“Yes,” Octavia said to Vinyl, “I assume she's here for a reason. Most likely she wants to talk about Miss Aurora.”

I was glad that at least one of them remembered. Aurora Iris was the name of the young unicorn mare who had gone missing, and after Vinyl revealed that she, too, suffered from that ominous bad blood disease, I asked these two to look further into the matter.

“Indeed,” I said. “Have you found out anything?”

“No,” Vinyl was quick to the response. “Saw her friends in the club. Asked them about her. And you know what? They didn't even know what I was talking about.”

“Entirely correct,” Octavia said. “While I do not have the... connections, that our mutual friend here does, I did ask around among the few ponies that I do know. Nopony seems to remember her. Her name was even scraped off her apartment door up on the tower. It's almost as if she had never been to Canterlot.”

“Almost?” I asked.

“Yeah, and that's the creepy part,” Vinyl said. “It's like, like ponies who should know her don't, and those who don't kinda do.”

“What Miss Vinyl is trying to say is, I believe,” Octavia interjected, “that we did ask regulars in the club. Ponies who come here often, but didn't seem to be personally acquainted with Miss Aurora. Some of them remembered seeing a pony who fit her description, albeit they couldn't, understandably, give us much more than that.”

“And let me just say,” Vinyl continued, “that I'm totally out of this. You know? I don't know what's happened to her, and I don't care! So, yeah, we, we did what you want, now leave us alone. Cause, you know, we intend to live forever.” She gulped. “Isn't that right, Tavi?”

Octavia didn't look at her. “Indeed, Miss Vinyl's concerns are not unfounded.”

“See? See?” Vinyl asked, twitching nervously.

“And while I do share them,” Octavia went on, still only looking at me, “I want you to know that I continue to stand by you. If you require my further assistance in the matter, do not hesitate to ask.”

“What?!” Vinyl snapped, shaking visibly. “Are you insane? We just saw a pony get erased from the world! Damnatio memoriae, Tavi!”

Octavia continued to ignore her friend. She shifted her gaze down, still keeping her chin high. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly; her dead lungs made a terrible racket. She then looked at me again. “I am certain that—”

“Tavi, are you listening to me?” Vinyl asked.

“Given the proper persuasion—”

“Tavi.”

“Miss Vinyl will certainly—”

“Octavia Melody!”

“Shut up, Vinyl Scratch!”

Vinyl was visibly taken aback by her sudden shift in tone, but it wasn't enough to get her mouth shut. If anything, it plunged her into overdrive. “But seriously Tavi, this is crazy insane, don't you understand, this is suicide, this is worse than suicide, don't you see—”

Octavia got up from her seat and began slowly walking towards Vinyl. Vinyl began backing away.

“Do you know what I see?” Octavia asked, walking on. Her steps were less like those of a pony and more similar to a predator stalking its prey in the wild. “An entitled, whiny little filly, who can't keep her mouth shut for a split second.”

When Vinyl's rump bumped into a wall, she quickly changed direction. She began circling around the room backwards as Octavia herded her. Octavia's stature grew, and her mane took on a darker shade of grey.

“But Tavi—”

“And if you allowed me to finish a sentence,” Octavia interrupted again, her voice becoming deeper with each word, “perhaps I wouldn't need to....”

Octavia's words were replaced by unintelligible growls as her muzzle changed shape and clawed paws emerged where her hooves had been. The wolf that was now walking towards the DJ was almost as big as her prey and I combined. At an uncareful step, Vinyl's hind legs were twisted and she fell back, forcing her to continue crawling on her back if she wanted to keep ahead of the predator. She crawled into a corner and covered her face, Octavia leaning in close. Her bared teeth almost touched Vinyl's turned cheek.

“T-Tavi?” She laughed nervously.

The wolf stepped back to release Vinyl, sitting down before her. Vinyl's shock seemed to linger. Even as Octavia regained her original form, she stayed there, leaning back into the corner, giggling anxiously.

Octavia's ruffled mane fell to hide her face. She whipped it back and moved a few remaining stray locks from her face.

“I'm s-sorry,” Vinyl stuttered.

“No,” Octavia whispered, looking at the floor. “I am.”

I walked closer to her. “Does that happen often?”

“This was the first time,” she said. “But the stars know I've been close, with this... Miss Vinyl.”

“S-sorry,” Vinyl repeated.

“No!” Octavia yelled again. “I am sorry!”

“Deep breaths, Octavia,” I said. “I mean, if that helps.”

“I really am sorry though,” Octavia said, turning to Vinyl. “You see, that. That is why my sire advised me to stay away from the city. That is why I spend most of my time alone. It helps control the chaos.”

Vinyl finally stood up and walked closer. She put a hoof on Octavia's shoulder. “Hey... you're not a monster.” She was still no expert wordsmith, but I thought I felt some genuine emotion in her voice. “W-we're not monsters. Remember that.”

“That's what my sire keeps telling me as well. Remember who you were and all that.” Octavia sighed. “Sometimes it's easy to forget, though.”

“Sounds like solid advice to me,” Vinyl replied.

“It hollows you out inside, death,” Octavia said, turning to me. “You can't imagine it. No wants. No needs. No passion. The aggression—the sheer emotion—of the wolf, it makes me feel alive again.”

“Hey,” Vinyl said, “I don't go around morphing into flesh-eating beasts, and I'm doing fine.”

“Are you?” Octavia asked. “Or are you just afraid of death?”

“I, well I... I do stuff, you know? I have an honest-to-stars job! One I might lose if Twilight here keeps—”

“Alright.” Octavia sniffled. “Alright. I haven't looked at the cello since... I should really pick it up again.”

“Good idea.” Vinyl nodded with a proud smile. “Why don't you go do that right now? I'm sure Twilight can handle—”

“Not happening, Miss Vinyl,” Octavia interrupted.

“Well it was worth a shot....” Vinyl grumbled.

When I saw an opportunity to re-enter the conversation, I took it. “Thank you. Both of you, I mean, for helping me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vinyl sighed.

“My offer still stands,” Octavia said. “Oh, and Miss Vinyl? I'm sure my sire would be extremely disappointed if you let me wander off doing favours for Night Shift unsupervised.”

I didn't know what made Octavia so keenly interested in helping me, but I also knew better than to question my good fortune.

Vinyl buried her face in her hooves. “Damn it, but I don't need this.”

“Well, you're getting it anyway,” I said. “I have something very special in mind for you. My whole plan hinges on your agreement, in fact.”

“Your whole plan....” Vinyl rolled her eyes.

“For you see, I believe I know what happened to Aurora Iris. I saw Night Guards around her apartment the last time I was here. And I saw two of them carry off a large case somewhere into the mountains. A case big enough for a pony.”

“Wait,” Octavia cut in. “Are you saying that the Night Guard... that is Luna....”

“I think they took her to Containment, alive or not. I intend to find out why. And that is the reason I'll need you.”

“Containment?” Octavia asked. “That's where I was brought back, isn't it? I can tell you where the entrance is located, if that's what you need.”

“Somewhere in the mountains, no?” I asked. “I was hoping you could do more than just that.”

“What?” Vinyl interjected. “You wanna get inside that top-secret place where Luna makes her Night Guards?”

“That's the idea.”

“Are you even sure that this Aurora chick is even in there?”

“She probably is.”

“Is it too late for me to opt out?”

“It definitely is.”

“Forgive me, Miss Twilight,” Octavia said, “but it does sound like a risky undertaking. You are operating on conjecture.”

“Suffice it to say,” I said, “I really have no choice in the matter. The sooner we get in there, the greater the chance we'll find her.”

“I see,” she replied. “How about tomorrow evening?”

“Tavi!” Vinyl cut in. “Are you seriously—”

One look from Octavia silenced her.

“Tomorrow?” I asked. “That's the evening of the gala, isn't it?”

“And?” Octavia gave a devious grin. “All the more reason for the princess to be distracted.”

“Except this is a short gala?” Vinyl cut in again.

Octavia and I looked at her questioningly.

“Oh, of course, you're out of town all the time, you two. They've pushed back the start of the triple-G. Been big news. It's like, some last-minute decision.”

“Pushed back?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Vinyl continued. “Sure, it'll go all night 'till dawn, but it'll only start at midnight. Sort of, to give Cadence more time to prepare. That's what I pieced together, anyway, since I don't exactly get out much for these big announcements they do in the afternoons. Sun hurts my eyes, you know. And we lowlives never get invited anyway, so....”

“Not all guests are from Canterlot, though,” Octavia said. “If we didn't hear about it, surely neither have they, or not all of them. Certainly the princesses are preparing to cater to the guests that happen to arrive on time, that is, early.”

“They'd have to placate a lot of disgruntled nobles,” I said, “explaining everything. Sounds like total chaos.”

“It's perfect.” Octavia smiled.

“It is settled then.” I picked my bag up and took out Monsoon's hair-amulet. It levitated gently over to the very confused Vinyl Scratch and dropped down around her head. She visibly shuddered as the string encircled her neck. There aren't many things out there that would make a vampire feel cold; truly, the amulet was special.

“W-what is this?” she asked.

“It's what you're going to be wearing. Can you feel it, the surging magic?”

“Yes.” She looked at the amulet in complete bedazzlement. “I've never—”

“It will vastly improve your inherent magical ability. Get used to power, Vinyl. We're going to need it.”

I was in the deepest parts of Canterlot's crystal mines. Although I was certain that the Night Guards had me tagged the moment I entered the mouth of the cave up above, for the time being, they wouldn't show themselves. My black bag bounced on my back as I walked down the steep ledges. It was heavier than I had expected, but I wouldn't carry it via magic, for casting any spell would have broken the illusion I had Vinyl Scratch put on me.

Memories flooded my mind; I passed the very place where the changeling Queen Chrysalis had taken Cadence and myself so long ago. It figures, I wondered, that my journey would circle back to this place. Descending below the crystal formations that I had blasted away in years past, I found a new tunnel that led deeper down, just like Octavia had told me I would.

Hidden in the darkest depths of the mountain, I finally found what I was looking for: a rectangular doorway of thick metal, like that of a vault, embedded by enchanted gemstones at the edges and giving off a noticeable magical aura. This was the place never meant to be seen by but a select few.

A lone Night Guard sat before the door, piercing me with her gaze. As I got closer, I noticed that this one was of a rare breed, for she lacked the definitive bat-wings I was used to seeing. From her dark, scaly forehead sprouted instead a long, jagged horn, not altogether unlike that of a changeling. I pondered whether this had any further implications as to Luna's past, or if it was but a curious coincidence.

“Halt!” the Night Guard lifted a hoof, stopping me. “Who goes there?”

Do they all enjoy speaking ye olde 'Questrian, or is it just this odd one?

I tipped my hat and held my head high. “Lulamoon,” I answered. “Trixie Lulamoon.”

A thin line of light shot up vertically across the middle of the door, and the heavy metal parted with the sound of rushing air. The two halves slid into opposite sides of the embracing rock as the Night Guard stepped aside, allowing me passage.

The room I entered was one of moderate size and seemed entirely sterile; smooth walls of silvery metal held a similar ceiling above a floor all the same. Another door, identical to the one I had just passed, blocked my way forward. The entrance closed behind me, leaving me in complete darkness for a little while. I noticed a faint, barely sensible aura in the air that sounded like authority and tasted like oppression.

White light flashed and flooded the room, leaving me to rub my eyes in pain. When I could finally open them, four Night Guards stood before me; one unicorn mare and three of the common pegasus breed, all stallions.

I noticed that the unicorn had a small, nondescript metal ring around her horn. Considering that Night Guards weren't known for their love of fashion, I assumed its purpose was practical rather than decorative.

The guards' faces bore no expression, perhaps save for a speck of disdain. I straightened my back and looked at them confidently. I needed to sell that I've been here before.

Wordlessly, two pegasi walked behind me as the third reached to take off my cape and hat. I didn't resist. My bag was the last to go, being placed neatly at the wall by my carefully folded clothes. The unicorn, then, stepped up.

“Head down, legs apart,” she gave the order.

Hmm. “I'd rather not,” I said.

“Head down, legs apart.”

“Refresh my memory, please.” I mimicked Trixie's haughty attitude as best I could. “Why do I need to go through this, again?”

The unicorn looked at me impatiently.

“I don't like it at all,” I said.

“And we don't like your attitude,” she responded. “Illusion check is compulsory. Even for you. Especially for you.” She waited a moment, but I didn't budge. “Present your horn.”

I figured that's what this is about. And I definitely don't want them going through with it, else my little adventure could come to a premature end.

“You know...” I began, taking a few steps to the side, leaving the circle of guards. “I think you know me. You have to. I'm one of Luna's oldest agents.”

“Tsk,” the mare spat.

I walked around her. She didn't even bother to move her head to follow me with her gaze. I put my bag on again and turned so that they could clearly see it. The guards slowly turned and shot me impatient gazes.

“You're not getting in until you pass the test,” she said. “But please, make me report this.”

Lifting a hoof, I pointed at a small hole cut into the side of the bag. “That won't be necessary. Look.”

The pegasi turned to look, and I tried desperately to stop myself from shaking; I'd reached the fulcrum of my entire plan. But it would work. It had to.

The unicorn raised an eyebrow at me, giving an expression of discontent. I pointed at the hole again. Come on. She rolled her eyes, then began walking closer, squinting to look into the hole in the meantime. I thought my heart was going to split my chest in two.

Her steps stopped. I took a deep breath. Her eyes went wide. I exhaled. She lifted her head and shook it before looking at me confusedly. She turned towards the rest of the guards, each standing stunned, looking at my bag as well. For a moment, I saw a hint of defiance in her eyes, and she blinked repeatedly, as if trying to blink away a daydream.

“Now, please, Miss....” I began, getting her attention again.

“Skyglow,” she finished for me. She stood at attention.

“Miss Skyglow. Are you certain you need to perform the illusion check twice?”

“What?” She said the word lousily, cocking her head and giving me a confused look. Her eyes seemed empty and defocused, as if she had forgotten to close them before falling asleep.

I couldn't help but smile. “You've just checked me. I came off clean. Don't you remember?”

She looked away for a moment, putting a hoof to her forehead. She shuddered, put her hoof down, then looked at me again. “Yes, yes I do.” Her words were slow and lazy. She gulped. “I do now.”

“Would you kindly let me pass?”

“Oh. Of course.”

She walked to the door and put a hoof at the centre. The metal parted, opening the way forward.

“Now, please,” I added, “leave me alone for a moment.” I looked at my hat and cape, sitting on the floor. “Getting dressed.”

The guards nodded sluggishly and left the room, leaving me alone. I can barely believe it. We did it.

I looked down at my “clothes” again. The “ witch hat” was but an old Hearth's Warming cap that Vinyl had dredged up from her wardrobe, and the “cape” was a large piece of rag cloth, once an oversized doormat to the Mental Ward. It even said “Welcome.” Yet to the guards they were Trixie's brilliantly sewn stage attire, complete with their vibrant colours and celestial pictures.

Wearing these things, somehow, I still felt less stupid than I would have wearing the actual thing.

After putting them on again, I put my bag onto the floor, laying it on its side. I looked into the tiny hole as a grin crept onto my face.

When I opened the bag, a pair of very, very angry eyes greeted me in turn. Not much was left intact of Vinyl Scratch; I only barely managed to squeeze in her head, tying the string of the hair-amulet around her horn. Her dead heart was jammed up the stub of her neck as far as could be, wired to the brain by only a few loose veins. The rest of her we had packaged and hidden, in relative safety, back in her nightclub room. Because honestly, if somepony broke in, and found a bunch of bodyparts there, it's not like they'd tell anyone.

Her head lay sideways, one of her eyes pointed at the hole. She couldn't turn to look directly at me, but I saw her eyes shifting in my direction. “I'm going to kill you,” she mouthed, exaggerating her facial movements to make sure I received the message. “I'll bite your legs off!” That's the most she could do, what with missing her lungs and all.

I leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “You're doing great. Keep it up.”

Her mouthed response was something to do with a rake. I couldn't tell exactly.

A small gust of mist poured from the bag and snaked curiously up my body.

“No,” I whispered, “stay hidden for now.”

The mist bobbed; that was nodding, I imagined. With that, the small pillar of mist collapsed into the bag again as Octavia embraced what was left of her friend. I closed my bag and put it on again.

With the two cleverly hidden vampires on my back, I left the sterile room and found myself in a vast space. Everything was padded with the same metallic material, and powerful magical lights lit everything from above so that there were no shadows. The suffocating aura I had felt in the small room was also present here, and leagues stronger in intensity. Its origin or reason I couldn't tell.

For being inside a mountain, the area was also oddly orderly in shape; the floor was flat, the walls were straight, and although the ceiling was slanted at an angle high up, it still seemed as smooth as a mirror.

Filling up this enormous space were ponies innumerable. Pegasus Night Guards in scale armour marched up and down, blades attached to their wings; clearly, in here, they weren't meant to fly but to keep order. Their unicorn counterparts, although much fewer in number, walked about as well, consulting groups and individuals, and being saluted in turn. A few “regular” unicorns like myself walked about as well, often wearing lab coats and some of them even had surgical masks hanging around their necks.

At my hooves, a few differently coloured lines were painted onto the floor, and they traced out in different directions, running through the entire space. Etched into the floor were also a few words at the beginning of each line; the red line was marked with “Large Scale Containment” and led to a gigantic archway at the far end. The green line turned to the right and led to a set of stairs: the “Labs,” apparently. The third, blue line ran to a smaller tunnel beside the large archway, and was specified as the guide to “Small Scale Containment.”

To the left, there was another, smaller space blocked off by a tall glass wall, through which the only way seemed to be yet another vault-door; inside I could see more regular unicorns—all Night Shift employees, I imagined—exchanging papers, writing in books and notepads as they slaved away at boring but necessary paperwork. To the right, taking up considerable space in the room, was a something like a stage; a portion of the floor stood higher than the rest of the level.

I would have to find where Aurora was kept in this labyrinthine complex, and fast. I looked to the side to see the three pegasi that had stopped me when I entered; their apparent leader Skyglow was nowhere to be seen, however. I didn't know where she was; all I knew is that I needed to get going.

I walked closer to the strange podium at the right to inspect it more closely. Whatever I do, I pondered, distance between me and the front door can only be good. For the time being, at the very least.

Just as I got near the platform, an alarm shrieked and red lights began flashing around it. I was startled, for a moment, before I saw that nopony else seemed to care. After a while, the alarm stopped going off, and in a bright flash of light, and a large thunderlike burst, three unicorns appeared on the stage. Each of them wore a horn-ring similar to Skyglow's.

Each unicorn also held a leash in their mouth, and each leash was attached to a large wolflike creature, lying on the stage between the three of them. Upon coming to its senses—although still clearly disoriented—it began violently growling and lashing out at its captors. As it got up, its true size was revealed: I'd dare to risk it was at least two, perhaps even three times my own size. Even Octavia, taking on the form of a wolf herself, would've been dwarved by a real werewolf.

One of the unicorns zapped it with a spell. “Sit down!”

The behemoth howled in pain and recoiled; the three unicorns strained the leashes in a well-choreographed pull to tumble the beast off its cloven hooves again.

“Make space!” another unicorn yelled, pushing me aside as they pulled the creature off the stage.

The werewolf seemed to have been through much already; one of its legs barely moved and its anger seemed to be more a product of confusion and fear rather than genuine rage. A dozen winged Night Guards swiftly surrounded the group, and together they began hauling the werewolf towards the “small scale” tunnel in the distance.

And if that's small, I thought, I'd prefer not to find out what they call big.

Built like a fortress, buzzing like a beehive and efficient as a well-oiled machine, Containment was everything the tales suggested, and everything I had never believed it to be. How would Luna build all this? I wondered. She's been back for less than a decade. An excavation this large into the mountain would surely be noticed. Unless...

If this was really the place where Trixie's wagon was constructed, then it was no stretch of imagination that all of this fit into a much smaller space than it appeared. Either way, at least now I knew where half the royal budget has been going these past few years.

“Full moon was last week!” a voice came from behind me. “It's insane.”

I turned to see a bright faced, mint green unicorn in a lab coat looking right at me. Then, after a second, a realisation hit me: I recognised this mare.

“Heartstrings?” I asked confusedly.

“You know I prefer Lyra, Lulamoon,” she chortled, but then she furrowed her brows and tilted her head, looking at my forehead. “Hey, where's your, uh....” She poked her own horn.

“My what?”

“The... the ring. Didn't Skyglow give you one? I thought you'd have one.”

Oh dear. I still didn't know what having “the ring” meant—Lyra was apparently missing hers—but it was clearly something important.

“Yeah, about that.” I forced a giggle. “Skyglow's been giving me a hard time recently.”

“Yeah, she really has a stick up her ass for you.”

Is that so? “Tell me about it. Anyway, I don't think I'll need my ring now. Won't be staying long.”

Lyra blinked once, then shrugged. Her casual attitude, it seemed, would be my saving grace.

“So, uh, Lyra,” I continued, “what were you saying? I was distracted.”

“I was just saying how weird it is. I'm at Ponyville enjoying my week off, and then this Night Guard flies in last night like hey we're looking for Twilight Sparkle have you seen her and oh there's been a werewolf attack in the middle of the month so you gotta come in. Stars. World's upside down these days.”

“Wait, they've been looking for—” I paused. “Looking for Starbutt?”

“Oh yeah, you were with her in Horsmouth, right? Any news on that?”

“Well—”

“Nah, hold on, let's sit down somewhere quieter.”

Behind the glass wall, the noise of the main area was dampened to a barely audible murmur. I sat at a desk, my bag within reach. Looking around, I found this office—for lack of a better word—to be quite homely. Shelves lined the other wall and large tomes lay side by side on them, each signed with a date. The youngest, at the far left, seemed to be from a few months after Luna's return; the beginning of Night Shift, no doubt. Lyra was off fetching another book from a shelf further down the aisle.

“You seen the zombies?” I heard a lab-coated mare ask a stallion by another desk.

“It's dinner soon,” he replied in a tired tone.

“But, I mean, who does that? Just dump three towns' worth of corpses in the same cell?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I have to sort them now. Like, I get a black-and-white photo of this old hag from Ponyville, and they send me in there to find her.”

“I was thinking a hay sandwich....”

“Half her face was missing. She had no eyes. Her brains were dripping through her jaw!”

“And there goes my appetite. See, this is why nopony wants to work with you.”

Lyra's eventual return made me shift my attention away from that riveting conversation. She dropped the book onto the desk and sat down opposite to me. Opening it somewhere past the middle, she quickly skimmed the page before putting her hoof triumphantly under a certain line.

“See? I remember it 'cause it was with that hotshot Sparkle.”

I played along. “It's good to see Luna finally sending her out to see the real world.”

“Yeah. She needs that lesson, I think, always just sitting in Ponyville. Being shielded like that.” She stopped for a moment. “Not that everypony needs to see the world. I mean, I'd sooner operate a hundred monsters than actually go out and wrestle one myself.” It was around this time that she began trailing off. “I do so love the bipeds. Always interesting. Opposable thumbs, Trixie. Opposable. Thumbs.”

“And you do the paperwork too,” I carefully said.

“Well, yeah, it's alright. Good pay.” She sighed. “So anyway, what happened in Horsmouth?”

“You don't know?” I asked in feigned surprise. “Sparky said she'd write a report.”

“Well, she didn't. Or it didn't reach us plebeians down here if she did.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm not here to report on Horsmouth. It's something else.”

“What?” She tilted her head in surprise, then looked down at the book. “No,” she then said, looking at me again. “Horsmouth. Says so right here. You're still on Horsmouth until we get the report.”

“It's a... private matter,” I replied.

“Private matter?” She raised an eyebrow.

I reached for my bag and put it on the desk, hole facing Lyra. “Yes. I'd like to know about somepony, an old friend of mine. I really didn't know where else to ask.”

“You do know that's not why we're here, right?” She asked. “Take it to the Royal Guard.”

“Please,” I said. “It's very important.”

Come on, Vinyl. Work your magic.

“S-sure,” Lyra replied. “What do you need?”

“Look here,” I said, pointing at the hole in the bag. Blatant, yes, but desperate times.

Lyra's pupils diluted slightly as Vinyl's mind spell reached her.

“Now,” I began, “please tell me about one Aurora Iris. Do you know anything about her?”

“Aurora?” she asked.

“Aurora Iris. A unicorn. If she was brought here, it would have happened around a week ago.”

“I...” she seemed to struggle to form words. “I don't know. I mean I....”

“Can you check for me? Would it be in this book?”

“Y—” She shook her head. “N-no.” She looked down, and mumbled under her nose. “No, no, no, no....”

“Are you sure?”

I reached for the book, but Lyra gasped and quickly slapped my hoof away.

“Yes,” she said. “No, not in the book. It's not in there. It's not in there.”

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was struggling. Although I wasn't convinced by her words, I put my hoof down, deciding not to push her too hard. She grabbed the book and held it jealously at her chest.

“Can't you tell me anything?” I asked.

“I can,” she answered quickly.

“Will you?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She looked down again, mumbling something. Then she looked at me again. “I'll show you.”

“Thank you.”

She didn't seem to register my words.

“Thank you, Lyra,” I repeated.

“Thank you!” she burst. “I mean, you're welcome.” She clung onto the book like a filly clings to her blanket at night.

I stood up, putting my bag back on. I didn't know how long the tenuous hold of Vinyl's spell would last. “Then let's go. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible.”

Lyra got up as well, standing awkwardly on three legs as she held the book with the fourth. I raised an eyebrow.

“I think you can put that down now.”

We crossed the main room and passed by the gaping archway. Lyra's gaze was constantly on the floor, and I saw that she was robotically following the blue line; our destination was, it seemed, Small Scale Containment.

The line ended at the entrance to a short tunnel, which in turn led to a different room. It was a long, wide corridor that stretched deeper into the mountain before coming to a dead end. A sign hung from the ceiling at the entrance, declaring this place to be “Containment Block-S #1.” Smaller letters just below read “Cells 1-30.” From the look of it, this was something similar to a prison block; simple cells with iron bars lined along the wall as a few Night Guards patrolled up and down. A small, crammed office was wedged into the corner beside the entrance, and a Night Guard looked at us from within with a raised brow.

Opposite to the office there was also a stairwell, going further down. I turned to Lyra questioningly.

“Where are we going?”

“Aurora,” she replied. “Aurora, she's at the b... at the end.”

Lyra nodded at the guard in the office, and began slowly walking forward. She was still looking at the ground, although there was no line to follow. I could see her mouth move; she kept on mumbling to herself.

“At the end, at the end, at the end....”

Lyra led me past many cells. Some were empty, others were locked tight, and the occasional reaching hoof—or other appendage—from within was quickly pushed back into the cell by one of the patrolling pegasi.

In the end, we reached the end of the corridor indeed. Lyra stood by the wall at the end of the tunnel and pointed at cell number thirty, which stood empty. Its open door I could interpret only as an invitation.

“What is this?” I asked Lyra. “Where's Aurora?”

She looked behind me before whispering, “I'm sorry.”

I heard the clatter of hooves, and before I turned, my head was bashed with such force that I banged it on the floor afterwards. A swift kick landed me inside the cell. I wasn't knocked out, luckily, and when the ringing in my ears stopped, I thanked the stars that I only felt blood running down the side of my head from split skin; my skull wasn't fractured. When I managed to look up, I saw several pegasi at the entrance to the cell, and a grinning Skyglow. Lyra stepped back behind them sheepishly, avoiding my gaze.

Skyglow lifted a hoof, and two pegasi stepped closer, pinning me to the ground as they removed my hat and cape. I didn't even resist; weak as I was, I wouldn't have wanted to risk getting on the wrong end of their wing-blades. My bag was the last to go, being given over to Lyra. The guards stepped aside, and Skyglow came up above me with a triumphant sneer.

“Well, well, well,” she said. “You got in, Trixie, I'll give you that. But did you really think you were going to get far? Rules are rules, you know.”

I stood up, looking her in the eye.

She looked back at Lyra. “Excellent work, by the way, Doctor Heartstrings.”

Lyra nodded at her. “Thank you, but you really had more to do with this than I did. If you hadn't realised what happened in time... thank you for warning me.”

“We work together, back to back. That's what we do.” Skyglow turned to me again. “It's clearly something you've forgotten. But you really aren't as clever as you think. What are you even doing here?”

“Something important,” I said.

“Is that so?”

“Excuse me,” Lyra cut in, rubbing her head. “I think... I think she was asking questions about...” Lyra lovered her voice to a whisper. “I think she was asking about Aurora Iris.”

“Oh? Is that right, Trixie?”

“Maybe.”

“Aurora Iris was captured, logged, and contained. That is all any of us know. That is all any of us need to know. Why would you care about her?”

“I heard she was cheating on me, the bastard.”

“Very funny.”

The two pegasi each grabbed one of my front hooves and kicked my back legs out from under me. Skyglow's horn began to glow, and she brought it closer to mine.

“I wonder what you're so desperately hiding, Trixie. Trust me, you won't be in such a witty mood once I find out.”

I closed my eyes. A shiver was sent down my spine, and I could tell: the disguise spell was no more. Skyglow stepped back, and even the normally indifferent pegasi seemed surprised.

“Trixie... Twilight Sparkle.” Skyglow stammered. “You're not Trixie at all!” After her initial confusion, her bright mood returned with a short laugh. “Here we are, scouring the country for you, and then you actually turn up here? I'm sorry, but you are quite insane, if I do say so myself.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I'm not sure what prompted this little detour of yours,” Skyglow continued, “but it doesn't matter. Princess Luna is already on her way. You can explain everything to her, in person, in just a few short minutes.”

Skyglow turned around, and waved a hoof. The pegasi dropped me to the floor and went to follow their leader, leaving the cell. Without thinking, I leapt up, but I wasn't fast enough. The door closed before me, and I was left inside, rattling the bars.

Skyglow looked at me again. “You're not getting out of there. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be.”

I didn't answer. Instead I closed my eyes and felt power gather at the tip of my horn. Then there was a shock of crippling pain, and I fell down yet again as my spell fizzled.

“Missing something?” Skyglow asked, gesturing at the ring around her horn. “As I've said, you're staying in there. Don't even try to teleport.”

Well I guess at least now I know what that aura means, and what those rings are for. I stood up carefully, assessing the situation. So, no spells. No bag. No plan. Neat.

Skyglow watched me amusedly for a while before turning to Lyra. “I do wonder how she got in. Open the bag, please, and be careful.”

Lyra put my bag down to the floor and opened it. “Wow” was the only thing that she could say.

Skyglow used a spell to lift Vinyl from the bag, holding the bodyless head high. Vinyl's eyes moved frantically, turning from one guard to another in fright. I imagined she'd have been begging for mercy if she had the ability to.

“What in Tartarus is this?” Skyglow asked.

“It's a...” Lyra began, putting her hoof in Vinyl's mouth. “It's a vampire, it's a, from the fangs, it's a Nupraptim.” She took a quick look at me, then lifted a hoof to cover Vinyl's eyes. “It's brilliant.”

“Brilliant?” Skyglow asked.

“This, this type of vampire, it has potent mind control abilities. They're all about mental suggestion, etcetera. All it takes is a gaze into their eyes, and they have you. This one seems especially dangerous. I wonder how it's still... a-ha!”

Lyra prodded at the stub of Vinyl's neck, and her heart was set loose as the veins holding it snapped, landing on the floor with a squish. Vinyl's facial muscles went numb one by one, as if an invisible pair of scissors began cutting their invisible strings. Soon, Vinyl was entirely lifeless, and Lyra picked up the heart.

“Fascinating,” she said. “I mean, this whole idea, it's insane, and it's brilliant.”

“Please stop singing her praises.” Skyglow rolled her eyes, and pointed at the amulet strung around Vinyl's horn. “And what's that?”

“I'm not sure,” Lyra replied.

By this time, the attention of the entire group was on the severed head and the strange amulet it wore. But I knew that there was something else in my bag yet. The mist floated out in a thin stream, and crawled silently along the floor to enter my cell. Slowly and quietly, the mist turned into a grey pony behind me. We exchanged a wordless look, and I pointed at the bars and the guards. I was worried that she might not agree.

But Octavia smiled.

The bars? They didn't stand the chance. The guards? Now they were a challenge.

When they saw a grey wolf burst from my cell, they didn't have time to think. In a matter of seconds, Octavia was already upon them, kicking one at a wall and pinning another to the ground with a single paw. For all her bravado, Skyglow's magic wasn't enough to subdue her alone, and so the immense lupine overpowered the group.

Before the alarm was sounded, Octavia was able to kick Vinyl's inanimate head and heart my way, and I hastily threw them into my bag. As I ran by, I could even snatch up the amulet and hang it around my neck quickly. When reinforcements arrived at the alarm's shriek, they had the option to pay attention to a random lavender unicorn running for her life, or to pursue the monster tearing Containment apart. Their choice couldn't have been more obvious. By the looks of it, if Octavia so wished, she could've left scarce of many attackers; she chose to restrain herself to drag out the battle.

I wondered what made Octavia so difficult for them to deal with, considering the ease with which they handled the werewolf I saw when I entered. Was it that the werewolf had already been tired out by the time they brought it here? Was it the smaller space that allowed Octavia to put up a fight? Or, perhaps, it was simply her intelligence that gave her an edge over a simple beast overcome by terrified rage. Whatever the case, I didn't care; all that mattered was that she was doing well. Yet even so, I knew this would be over sooner rather than later.

It was as such that I managed to turn Equestria's largest monster reservoir into a lawless Tartarus mere minutes before the princess' arrival, all in my quest to find a solitary Canterlot mare before the world supposedly ended at the hooves of some displeased deity. All things considered, I was doing quite well.

Admittedly, I did come to the realisation that I still had no idea where to look, and my time was running short. I remembered that Lyra hesitated at the stairs near the entrance to this wing, and thinking about it, placing your top-secret hostage at the deepest level of your underground facility sounded somewhat logical. Taking a leap of faith, I rushed down the stairs, my bag bouncing on my back. Good thing Vinyl's dead, for the moment, or she'd hate me for this.

“Containment Block-S #2” had much in common with its upper counterpart, except that the cells were locked by the heavy vault-doors that I had seen in other places in the facility, and I thanked my luck for not being put into one of these. Without much ado, I rushed past the cells and found another set of stairs going further down at the end of the block.

Block three, four, five! Will this ever end? My heart was in my throat and even running down the stairs was getting tiring. My steps became jumps, and by the time I reached the bottom, even the sounds of struggle above seemed to have died down. For a while, I was afraid that I'd gone the wrong way; there would be truly no turning back from here.

But there it was. Somewhere under block eleven or twelve, I found a large door blocking my way where the next containment block was meant to open. A glowing sign above declared that I had reached “Special Quarantine.” The door resembled the vault-doors from above, but seemed even more secure; a network of wires spread across its surface in intricate circuits. At the centre, there was a disk-like protrusion roughly the size of a hoof, and what appeared to be a small screen beside it.

I put a hoof onto the disk. A second passed, and nothing happened.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Not pulling my hoof back, I pushed at the disk. The door immediately made a screeching sound and the wires upon it glowed. The screen lit up and read a pair of simple words.

“Access denied.”

My exhausted hind legs gave way, and I sat down, staring at the screen. I pushed the disk again and again. The result was always the same. Still wheezing from all the running, it was hard to think. Is there a reason to think? It's over. I can't open this door physically. And I can't use my magic in here.

Hold on.

I got this far. How did I get this far? Octavia. No, Vinyl! She could use her magic.

Looking down at the amulet around my neck, I finally realised the obvious.

All along, Vinyl had a horn-ring of her own. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and tension mounted in my horn once again.

I screamed in pain. When my sight cleared, I found myself on the other side of the door. I took a deep breath and hissed. My horn felt colder than ice. My body was boiling. My head was splitting. But I did it.

Before me was a corridor, similar to but shorter than the ones above. It was completely devoid of guards; the vault-doors at both sides were left on their own. If Aurora Iris—or what remained of her—was yet to be found in Containment, I knew that this would be where she is. I only needed to find the cell.

The closest cell, on my right, was marked by a small sign as “D- Q-” in writing I could tell to be Luna's. With the letters I've received over the years, I've learned to recognise it. As to the meaning of the letters, I could only guess; perhaps they were the initials of whoever—or whatever—was inside.

I walked along the corridor, looking at each sign by every door, finding a variety of such two-letter codes. A select few of the cells were open and unmarked. I could peek inside, and all I saw was a sterile, metal-padded room, crystal clean as if nothing had ever set hoof inside them before.

It was near the end of this eerie hallway that I found what I was looking for. The letters A and I marked what I collected to be Aurora Iris' cell. I felt my heart rate climb again. With a deep breath, I touched the door, and it opened.

Inside I saw a large bed, comfortably made with soft pillows and a bright red blanket at the centre of the otherwise sterile room. In the bed a unicorn mare lay, sleeping peacefully. Empty patches in her otherwise luscious deep-blue mane showed the signs of pulling; her white coat held a thin layer of dust, as if she hadn't moved in a long time.

I walked up beside the bed and pulled the blanket off her. She didn't flinch.

“Aurora Iris?” I asked.

She slept on.

“Aurora Iris!”

I shook her slightly, calling her name again and again, always to no response. The shaking turned violent and the bed rocked under her.

“Wake up! I only have a few minutes! Wake up, damn you! Wake up!”

Losing my temper entirely, I pushed her out of the bed. She landed on the other side, colliding with the cold metal floor with a thud. I swiftly ran around the bed to see the mare holding her head. She stood up slowly, nearly tripping as she did. Looking around in confusion, she finally fixed her stare on me.

“Where am I?” she asked.

I don't know what I was expecting. “Y-you're—”

She charged at me and knocked me down, standing over me and looking at me with an expression that no sane pony could make. “I didn't do it!” she yelled. “I swear!” She then ran off, galloping around the room with no direction, yelling unintelligible half-sentences and broken words at the top of her lungs. “I didn't! I di—! I know I didn't k—! Kill him! I don't know! What happened?! I do, I no!”

She stopped as suddenly as she had started, sitting down and staring at the wall before her, mumbling further ravings. “Why is she looking at me like that? Why? I didn't ask her. I didn't, I didn't.”

I walked up to her carefully “W-who's looking at you?”

She turned to me with an empty stare. “Cadence.” Tears began rolling from her eyes. “Cadence,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “Cadence!”

“What did she do?”

“Why did she have to look at me? Why not anypony else?”

She turned away from me, facing the wall, rocking herself back and forth gently. It wasn't long before she began scraping at her head with her hooves, scrubbing her mane.

“I don't know,” she whispered to herself. “I can feel her eyes on me. I don't, I never. I wouldn't. I can't even remember. What happened? Why did she look? Her stare....” Her mad mumblings eventually deteriorated to little more than a horrid gurgling, forced painfully through her stiff throat.

And finally, I broke. I sat down as well. Then I collapsed, falling to my side. The coldness of the floor was the only thing keeping me from passing out.

So this is the mare I risked—and, so it would seem, lost—everything to get to. Whatever happened to her, whatever Cadence did or didn't do, none of that matters now. Aurora's mind is gone, and mine might be soon as well. She's been turned inside out. Will I?

Once Luna is through with me, I know: the darkness is all that remains. Will I end up like Aurora, lobotomised and locked up in a cell... or worse? Is there any worse?

There we were, each of us sobbing on the cold floor; one mare already insane, and another on the brink. I curled up, hugging and fondling my own tail, catatonic.

After a while, I heard the sound of hooves nearing. I didn't look. Aurora screamed, then fell silent.

“Rise,” Princess Luna's voice commanded.

Her voice rushed over me, and like a crushing tide, swept my fear away. I took a deep breath and sat up. I still wouldn't look at Luna, but I caught a glimpse of Aurora. She wasn't dead, only sleeping.

“Stand,” Luna said.

I stood up. Slowly, I turned towards Luna. I paid no mind to the Night Guards that were her escort, looking the princess straight in the eye. I didn't want her last memory of me to be of a crippled mare lying on the ground.

Next to Luna and the guards, Octavia floated; although she was a pony once again, a wolf's oversized hind leg twitched where one of her legs should have been. Driven into her forehead was a crossbow bolt whose tip, I imagined, was silver. One of her eyes was completely unresponsive; the other, independent of its pair, slowly turned in its socket to look at me.

“S-s-sorry,” she choked.

Luna threw the incapacitated Octavia to the floor.

“We've found Monsoon Descent,” Luna said. “We are thoroughly disappointed.”

If I'd denied to myself what happened to Monsoon, I could do it no longer. How interesting it is, to see Luna in such a new light. How she would do so much protect Cadence's terrible secret!

I said nothing.

Blue light engulfed the sleeping Aurora, taking her back to her bed and tucking her in gently. The amulet lit up with light too, and, ripping its string in two, floated to Luna. The bag was the next to fly up; its mouth opened and Vinyl's head and heart came rolling out next to Octavia.

“We could have them burned,” Luna said. “We should make you watch.”

But you won't, will you? Yet she scoffs at the thought of murder, clinging onto her last remaining shred of morality. For Aurora, and the rest of her victims, death would've been a release. Keep telling yourself you're a good princess, Luna. We both know the truth.

I blinked once.

“'Tis with a heavy heart that we make this decision, Twilight Sparkle.”

Luna's magic surrounded the bolt between Octavia's eyes, and with a pull, liberated her from it. As the wound healed, Octavia's wolf-leg shrunk and turned into a proper, hooved leg, and her eyes quickly regained their synchrony. She hopped onto her hooves and bowed deep before Luna.

“Tell Vinyl Scratch,” Luna said, “that this was her final warning. As it was yours.” She pointed towards the cell's door, still open. “Take your friend and leave. You will be escorted outside.”

Octavia quickly, and without a word, gathered Vinyl's remains into my bag and left the cell. The guards followed as the door closed behind them, leaving only Luna and me—and the sleeping Aurora—inside.

“Are you going to blank me?” I asked Luna.

“Know that if I had found any other pony in this room, we would not be having this conversation.”

“And you won't kill me.”

“You must think me a monster. And in many ways, you would be right.” She glanced at Aurora for a moment. “You must realise, however, that I am not the kind of monster you have deluded yourself into thinking I am.”

Aren't you? “What are you going to do, then?”

“I have come to ask for a favour.”

The World Forgetting, by the World Forgot

Chapter 10:
The World Forgetting, by the World Forgot

Luna was silent.

The city, however, was not. It would be midnight soon. The streets teemed with ponies in fancy dresses and lavish suits. The very moment they had stepped out of their servant-drawn carriages, they had plunged right into the ritual sucking-up and licking-clean for which the Grand Galloping Gala was so famous.

They stood under every tree, by every wall, behind every corner and at every fork of the road, holding their expensive drinks and working their verbal ways towards one another's wallets, completely complacent and entirely ignorant of what was going on beneath their hooves and beyond their heads.

Luna wordlessly dodged them and their inquiries whenever they came near us, outright shoving them aside when needed be. They would never dare to say a word about it; if anything, they were ecstatic to have been touched by Her Majesty. Or they acted like it, anyway.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked. The question had been on my mind ever since Luna escorted me from Containment. It's not that I had been afraid to ask; it just took me a while to shake off the shock of what happened down there and start caring about my life and future again.

“I need you to talk to your brother,” she replied.

Oh. How ominous.

We closed in on the Canterlot Palace, and the previous snobbish congregation was gradually replaced by a different crowd. Celestia's Royal Guards stood tall and kept a vigilant eye on any who came close to the great towers. And I was surprised, for a moment, for I had expected that the Night Guard would watch over the gala. I remembered, then, my previous visit to Canterlot, when the Night Guard had taken over for the day; a debt that the royals would, according to Shining Armor, need to repay later. Perhaps tonight was the night.

As we neared the great gate of the palace court, an odd sound reached my ears. Somewhere beyond the walls, a mare was yelling. Luna heard as well, and it made her hasten her steps. The wall of guards that stood before the gate parted for Luna and me and quickly closed again behind us. It was then that I could finally see the yelling mare; the revelation, however, left me only more perplexed.

Shining Armor stood atop the wall that surrounded the palace, dressed in full body-armour, and Princess Cadence was beside him. She was half-dressed in her regal attire, and her mane looked as if the servants had began putting it in order but stopped—or had been stopped—halfway through. Loose locks of hair sprouted and fell awkwardly, and she stamped angrily in place, shouting and sobbing in an unblinking Shining Armor's ear. The rest of the guards, on and below the walls, were doing their best not to look.

“Talk to me!” Cadence cried. “Why are you doing this to me? Why tonight?”

Shining went on with his business, patrolling the wall and occasionally checking the spear he had strapped to his side. His comrades—subordinates, really—made sure to stay well away. When Cadence yelled, Shining didn't look; when she pushed, he didn't flinch. To him, his upset wife seemed non-existent.

“I've told you, I'm sorry!” Cadence said. “You know I don't mean it. I need you!”

Luna and I found our way onto the wall as well. Cadence clearly cared not about the guards hearing her tirade, but seeing us made her wince and fall quiet. Shining looked at me, then away. During the brief moment that we locked eyes, I thought I saw a hint of shame in his eyes.

“Cadence,” Luna said, “we have warned you to stay indoors.”

“But I—” she began.

“No,” Luna interrupted. “Go inside. Lie down.”

“But Shining, he—”

“Lie down.”

Cadence hung her head. She took one last look at Shining. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

Then she passed by us, saying nothing, and climbed down the nearby stairs to leave the wall, dragging her half-made dress through the dirt. I had no words.

“You must talk to Shining Armor,” Luna said. “Cadence needs him. He has to understand that.”

“You spared me because of this?” I asked. “I read books, defeat ancient evils, and fight monsters. I'm not a marriage counsellor, with all due respect.”

“Do it,” Luna said. With that, she turned around and left for the palace as well.

As prone as I was to downplay the petty fights of lovers, I realised that this was different. Cadence would never, in her right mind, behave the way I witnessed. And indeed, in its prime, the love my brother felt for his bride banished the changelings from Equestria. Whatever prompted this argument, I knew it had to be connected to greater events, whether the participants realised or not.

That said, however, I still had no idea how to approach this. I walked closer to Shining Armor.

“Hello, BBBFF,” I said. Should I even bother acting?

“Hello, Twily,” he answered.

Nah. “So... I've heard you and Cadence haven't been doing all that well lately.”

He didn't even stop, continuing his patrol route along the wall. He only turned to give me a surprised look. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

I stomped hard with a hoof. “Shining Armor!” That made him stop. Oh yes. Now he's frightened. “You want to play that game with your wife? Sure. Do it all you want. But I am not your wife, if you hadn't realised yet. In fact, I'm convinced you'd hate it if I were. And when Princess Luna of all ponies is concerned about your love life, you can bet I'll get something out of you.”

He pulled away, and I stepped even closer.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want you to start talking.”

He frowned. “So you want to do this? Right now, right here?”

“I'm at my wit's end here, brother, don't push me.”

“Alright,” he replied, dropping his spear. “Okay. You win.”

He took a look around. His guards still pretended not to be looking or listening, but oh, they were, however much space they had given us. After a moment of pause, Shining took his helmet off. That was the cue for the rest of them to disperse as quickly as they could.

He began fiddling with the straps on his chestplate. In a short time, with a combination of magic and hooves, he threw off every last piece of plating, chains and scales that covered his body. With his armour lying between us, I could get a full look at him.

Bandages soaked by sweat and blood hung from his legs. His fur was missing in several spots along his entire body, and bruises and bite marks littered his bare skin. Without his helmet, I could see that his mane was almost completely gone, and that his eyes were bloodshot.

I took a step back. “Shining...” My jaw hung agape. “What happened to you?”

“Cadence happened to me,” he said.

Cadence. It's always Cadence. “I... I don't understand. How? Since when?”

“A long time now. Years. I lost count.”

“But Cadence? Why would—”

“She's insane!” Shining snapped. He sighed and sat down, hanging his head. “Or she's gone insane. She wasn't like this.”

I sat down before him, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”

“She was...” He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. “She was the most beautiful mare I'd ever laid my eyes on. When I first saw her, when you were just a kid, I knew: I would marry that filly one day.”

“Very touching. Still....”

“And I didn't care she was a princess. Then time passed, we all grew up and... and she loved me too. At least I think she did. I just can't tell any more.”

“Was it the wedding that changed her?”

“After the wedding... the real wedding, I mean, she was aglow. Happier than I'd ever seen her, and no wonder. Things were amazing. They were perfect! Of course, we had a few... problems. Every relationship does. But that wasn't it. No, I think it happened... things changed when mum and dad....”

Of course. “What happened?”

“She wasn't the same afterwards. Not that any of us was.”

“But life goes on.” It was hard, saying those words. I scarcely believed them myself.

“I try to think that too. But....”

“Focus, Shining. What's done is done. We're talking about Cadence here.”

“Yes. You know, it was a shock, what happened. To think that mum would... I didn't notice at the time, but Cadence was taking the news really hard. Looking back, I spent more time comforting her than the other way around.”

“You think that's what changed her?”

“It didn't start like this. She was just a little more aggressive. No, that's not the right word. At first, she was just... confident.”

“Confident?”

“She spoke up more. And louder. I don't think anypony noticed, but I did. That was... that was around the time she began seeing Luna. Or Luna began seeing her, I really don't know. They said Luna was helping her cope with what happened at the wedding, and that she was overcoming her inner conflicts, stuff like that. I didn't want to intrude. Luna really did seem to be helping, and I'm just a guard, not some psychiatrist.”

“Psychologist.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” I said. “Go on.”

“Well, it was... it was last year, or maybe this one. Cadence started slipping.”

“What does that mean?”

“If she wasn't aggressive before, she was now. She got violent. At first it was only yelling, and then she started throwing plates and glasses, and whatever, when she couldn't get what she wanted. I never made it my business, what she does as a princess. I thought she was taking her frustration out on me. I was hoping it would pass.”

“But it didn't.”

“I tried talking to her about it, but that only made it worse. She blew up on me, asking how I dare ask something like that, how I could imply that something is wrong. And of course, the next day she was sorry, and she promised she'd make it up to me, and that she'd never do it again. But she did. She always did. Worse than before.”

“She hurt you?”

“She started to just... up and slap me, when she didn't like something. And she hated a lot of things. Short fuse, you know, getting shorter every day. After a while, she even stopped apologising. She pushed me, she punched me.” He bit his lip. “I won't even talk about what she does after dark.”

“But couldn't you defend yourself?”

He gasped. “Defend myself? Twilight, she's half my weight.”

I looked away. “So you just took it.”

“And this!” He pointed off the wall, at the city spreading before us. “The gala. It brought out the worst in her. Luna insisted it'd help, but it didn't, did it?!”

“Hold on. Does Luna know about all this?”

“I sure didn't tell her. But I can't imagine Cadence never bringing it up.”

“How was the gala meant to help, exactly?”

“Oh, it's all Luna's idea. It'd help Cadence make connections. Socialise, feel she's loved, whatever. Between you and me, I think Luna is projecting.”

I nodded. “She would be the one to fear abandonment.”

“All I know is that it's killing Cadence. And she's killing me. In Cloudsdale, when we were delivering the invitations, she... she sneaked away from her escort. She sneaked away from me! And when she came back, she came with a limp. I was afraid to ask, by that point, so I didn't. But that made her angry again. Why don't I care any more? And I... I did defend myself then, that one time. I almost broke her leg.”

I remembered Cadence failing to throw a ball back to some foals when I was last in the city. “Her fetlock.”

“Told you she hit it on a doorstep, didn't she? That lying....”

I saw tears swelling in Shining's eyes. He turned away and wiped them off before they could fall.

“And I just can't do this any more.” His voice was cracked. He gulped, trying to keep himself together. “I love her too much to stop her. But I can't be near her. What can I do? Do I go and complain to Celestia? I'm sorry, but sweet Princess Cadence turned into a monster? I'm the captain of the Royal Guard! I'm the one she sends to solve problems.” He gulped again. “And now Cadence is out here, making a scene, and Luna sends you to talk to me, and....”

He raised his hooves and began pulling away at what was left of his mane. I quickly leaned closer and hugged him. He wrapped his hooves around me and held me tight. We spent a few minutes like that, and I felt his tears on my shoulder.

Even so, locked in my brother's bitter embrace, I couldn't stop thinking. As he sobbed, I began slowly piecing the puzzle together in my head. The bad blood, my parents, the tomes of the Horsmouth cultists, Monsoon Descent's library and his final testimony, Aurora Iris and whoever else, then my brother's account; I finally began piecing the puzzle together.

It's no secret that alicorns have extreme magical powers, whether they control it consciously or not. Perhaps the cult's beliefs were right. Insane as it sounded, it was the perfect explanation. When Luna began slipping a millennium ago, the world itself had gone mad. And today, the world was quite mad, and I wasn't the only one to realise that. Something was happening. If Cadence is losing her mind, I wondered, could she have that effect on the world?

How does Luna play into this, then? Cadence didn't lock up Aurora Iris; she did. Yet her reaction to my finding out is suspect. She was not innocent in this, clearly. I just wasn't sure how much guilt she shouldered. For she did have me talk to my brother when I already knew too much; she had to know I'd only find out more from him. Does she want me to know all this? Then why had she kept it all hidden for so long?

After a while, my brother's hold on me weakened. I took this opportunity to speak up. I will do you a favour, Luna, just this once more.

“Cadence does need you,” I said. “At least for tonight.”

“I know,” Shining whispered. “But I just can't.”

“If you can't do it for her, then please, do it for me.”

“For you?”

“For me. I promise I'll do my best to help.”

He let me go. “How could you help?”

“Don't bother your head with that. Just remember that I promised.”

“But—”

I smiled. “Cross my heart, and all the rest.”

He hung his head for a while before looking at me again. “Alright. Sure. Tell Luna... tell Cadence I'll be there for her. Just for tonight. I make no promises past that.”

“That'll be enough. Thank you.” I stood up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see the princesses.”

Shining got up as well, nodding. “Take care.”

I turned to walk away, but couldn't resist saying one more thing. “Don't forget to put your armour back on, big brother. It'll help you feel like a stallion again.”

With that, I climbed off the wall and left for the palace. I did not possess all pieces of this puzzle just yet, but I knew who did.

“Lie down.”

That's what Luna had told Cadence before following her into the palace. Why should Cadence sleep now, when she's clearly not prepared for the gala? Whatever the case, I'd have to find the two, and report my tentative “breakthrough” with Shining Armor. And perhaps find out something else in the process.

Between the ancient-looking Lunar Wing and the pristine Celestial Wing of the Canterlot Palace, there was a smaller, transitional space of bright reds and blues: Cadence's residence. The guards let me through easily; clearly, they had been expecting me.

Although, from the outside, Cadence's portion of the palace was comparatively smaller than the other two, it was no humbler on the inside. As I walked through the rich hallways and red carpets, past Cadence's many beautiful, bright rooms, I wondered how often Shining Armor got to spend time here. Such it was that I reached a closed door at the end of a long hallway: Cadence's private bedroom. A lone stallion stood guard before the door.

“Is Cadence inside?” I asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” the guard replied. “As is Princess Luna. She told me to let you in.”

“So?” I nodded towards the door. “Will you?”

The guard put a hoof on the handle. “Do be quiet. Princess Luna's request.”

Raising an eyebrow, I walked inside. The guard closed the door behind me.

Unlike the rest of the palace, the room was dark; it took my eyes a few seconds to get used to the low light. Thick curtains hung before every wide window. None of the outside racket penetrated the walls.

A large canopy bed was in the centre. Gilded with exquisite woodwork and in the shape of a heart, it was most fitting for the Princess of Love. Thin drapes, so fine as to be practically transparent, hung from above and enclosed the mattress.

Before the bed, Luna sat silently, her back turned to the door and me. Through the bed's silky curtains I could see the silhouette of a mare lying on the bed, her chest moving up and down slowly and softly as she breathed.

Luna addressed me quietly, without even turning. “You've returned, Twilight Sparkle,” she whispered.

“I've spoken with my brother,” I replied. “Isn't that what you asked?”

“It is indeed. I trust you were able to talk sense into him?”

“He will be there at the gala.”

Luna was silent for a little while. “Good.”

I looked at the figure lying on the bed. “Cadence?”

“She's asleep,” Luna said.

“And you're just sitting there, looking.”

Luna stood up, turning around. “Would you rather I kept my eyes on you?”

“I assume you've been, princess. My only question is why.”

“I imagined you'd put it together yourself.”

“I do have a few ideas.”

“Do you?”

I stepped closer to Luna. “You know, I've been thinking about our meeting in your study. I was there regarding my friend Rarity.”

“You needn't remind me.”

“Then you must remember how my visit ended. I accused you of murder. And you were going to erase my every memory regarding Night Shift. As you were going to erase Rarity's memories regarding the mannequin incident.”

“But I did not.”

“And that makes me wonder why.”

“You've seen what I do.” She sighed. “I've blanked ponies before. I've abducted them, and I've imprisoned them, all to keep a secret hidden. The very same secret that I am about to reveal to you, because I have failed to stop you when I could.”

“You can stop me any time you wish, Luna. Even now, I am at your mercy.”

She scoffed. “Do not taunt me. I prize dearly the little decency I've managed to preserve after the things I've done. After I failed to blank you, how could I have captured your friend and looked her in the eye? How could I blank you now?”

“It's much easier when you don't know the victim, isn't it? You managed to mine the minds of the Horsmouth folk just fine. That was the right thing to do, of course. You had to find me, and it's not like anypony cares about that forsaken backwater.”

Luna raised her chin. “You are cruel.”

“That makes two of us. And I'm also correct, I collect.” I walked to the bed and sat down, looking at the sleeping Cadence. “I think you're much softer than you'd have others believe.”

Luna turned back towards Cadence as well, sitting down. “There was a time when I was different.”

I put a hoof onto the bed, careful not to wake Cadence. “You see yourself in her, don't you?”

“She needs my help.”

“You mentioned a secret. It isn't yours, is it? Cadence is the one with something to hide. You're merely helping her.”

“I am.”

“Does Celestia know of this secret?”

“No,” she said, louder than before. Her voice then returned to whispering. “And I hope she never will.”

“Celestia is kind, Luna. I'm certain she would understand.”

“Would she?” I thought I heard a tinge of resentment in Luna's voice. “You think you know her, Twilight Sparkle, but you do not.”

“Why wouldn't she understand?”

“She's been betrayed before.”

I began, slowly, to understand Luna's burden. But even so, I was left with one very important question.

“So why am I still here?” I asked.

Luna looked at me, but didn't say a thing.

“You want to help Cadence overcome her inner demons,” I said. “And you've done so much to keep her secret. When you couldn't bring yourself to blank me, you tried to keep me away from Canterlot instead. You sent me all the way out to Horsmouth. You didn't think I'd learn more there, did you?”

“I did not.”

“And then you found me in Containment. Still, rather than disposing of me, one way or another, you allowed me to simply walk out. You directed me towards Shining Armor, and you made me question him. I already knew too much, and now I do even more. Now's as good a time as ever to blank me.”

Luna lowered her head, nodding.

“You just don't have it in you, do you?”

“Not any more,” she whispered. I could barely hear her.

“You want me to help.”

“I do.”

“But I can only do that if I know everything.”

“That is why you're here.”

“Shall we wake Cadence, then?”

“No.” She looked at the dreaming Cadence for a moment, then back at me. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words.” Luna put a hoof on my forehead, and a rush of cold shot down my spine. “What you are about the see is worth more than a thousand pictures.”

She looked at Cadence again, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they glowed brightly, just like on that night when I met her up in her study. Her pupils turned pitch-black and grew wide, consuming her irises; her horn lit up and she pointed it at Cadence.

I lay on the floor, my eyes closed. There was a heavy rainfall, and there was lightning and thunder, and I was cold and soaked. By the time I stood up, my coat had absorbed enough water to make standing noticeably more difficult than it had any right to be.

The ceiling was gone. The walls were gone, and the bed was gone. Everything that had been in the room—indeed, everything that had been the room—was gone. The only reminder of my former location was the floor, which seemed to have been lifted wholesale from Cadence's room.

It was an island, a tiny patch of land amidst an endless, stormy sea. Sunlight seemed to fill the minute cracks between the edges of the dark clouds above, providing just enough light to see. The roaring bursts of lightning further illuminated the raging waves, if only for a split second at a time. Luna stepped up beside me.

“Where are we?” I asked. Although Luna stood right next to me, I had to yell in order to hear myself over the sound of turmoil. “What is this place?!” I spat rain from my mouth.

“It is regret.” Luna spoke quietly, yet her voice was crystal clear. It was as if it had come from inside my own head.

She raised a hoof and pointed into the distance; something seemed to stand out from the vast sea, rising above the waves. She looked at me and nodded, stepping forward. As she did, land rose from beneath the water and gave Luna's hoof something to land on. She continued on her way, and a path rose before her as she walked.

After a while, she stopped to look back at me. “Aren't you coming?”

I shook my head. When I looked down, the floor of Cadence's room was gone from under my hooves, replaced by the slippery, wet road that had formed for Luna. I hurried to catch up. All along, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Luna guided the long dirt road, and the long dirt road led me. As we walked towards the thing that rose in the distance, I could slowly make out a vague shape. It was something wide with a triangular shape on top; for the longest time, the rain made it impossible to see any real detail.

I wondered why it was that Luna appeared completely unfazed and unaffected by the storm. She walked with the power and confidence she had always possessed, and her star-mane waved gently in the air, ignoring the heavy wind entirely.

In the middle of the infinite sea, we came upon an enormous hole, wide enough to fit the entirety of Canterlot into it, and perhaps then some. In a perfectly circular shape, the sea cascaded into a black nothingness below. I couldn't even hear the water splash at the bottom.

From that very same hole, at the centre, a large building sprouted, rising from the endless abyss to tower high above us. The building resembled a house of extremely simple design. Or perhaps more precisely, a dollhouse. Its many rooms were all missing a wall, allowing us to see inside. Within each room I saw a different vista; some opened to grassy plains and others contained real rooms, while yet others showed me illogical, alien sights and far-off lands that only a dreaming mind could conjure up.

Looking at the building felt like opening a foal's playbook of “tricky” pictures: the room I was looking at stayed completely still while everything else seemed to move and swirl around it. I could never take two looks at the same thing, for by the time I looked back, it had either changed its position, or the room switched out what was previously therein.

A crash of thunder reminded me to keep going. Luna kept walking as well, the road continuing to grow before her as she walked into the hole. The path in the water became a long and twisting platform that floated above the emptiness below. We continued our way towards the dollhouse as the path came to an incline, taking us below sea level. Closing in on the building made it no easier to comprehend; indeed, if anything, it only made my head hurt more.

“This is Cadence's mind,” Luna explained. “This, for all intents and purposes, is Cadence. Everything she is, or ever was, is in there.”

“Is this right?” I asked quietly, half-hoping that the rain would drown out my voice.

“Right?” Luna asked. It seemed she could hear me perfectly well.

“It feels wrong, invading her mind like this.”

Luna didn't say a word.

“I'm just not used to it, is all,” I added. “Is this common for you, entering the minds of others?”

“More common than I would like it to be.”

“I see.”

“You said you wanted to know everything. Do not start moralising now; go ahead and blame me for any wrongs you may observe, if that makes it easier for you. Now listen: if one knows where to look, she can find anything here. Cadence's fears, aspirations, her needs and wants, even her memories, it is all in there. She is dreaming right now.”

Luna pointed at a room in the dollhouse, and I saw our floating path finally come to an end, attaching itself to the room's edge. Inside, I saw the Canterlot Park. Shining Armor sat peacefully, leaning back at the old cherry tree that grew there. Cadence lay beside him, her head in his lap.

“Anything you want to know,” Luna continued, “ready at your wish.”

With that, we came to the end of the road. I was within a step's distance of the room, and I saw the park in all its vividness. Cadence, however, did not appear able to see outside.

“Is that really them?” I asked.

“Cadence is,” Luna said. “You may talk to her as if you both were awake. Your brother, however, is only an image.”

I looked inside the room again. Cadence and Shining were still there, sharing a loving caress. I turned towards Luna.

“Do I just?—”

Luna stepped forward, walking through the missing wall into the room. Cadence noticed, and quickly got up. She was saying something, but I couldn't hear what it was. Luna responded, and Shining disappeared. Cadence seemed upset, but she ultimately resigned. With a deep breath, I stepped inside as well.

I felt the warm beams of sunlight on me. My coat was completely dry, and my mane was perfectly made; it was as if the storm had never happened. Birds chirped and bees buzzed. Looking behind myself, the sea and the pit were gone; I could see the spires of Canterlot at the edge of the park. There were even other ponies, and many foals played around us. For a while, I wouldn't even have believed that we were in a dream, for it all seemed so real.

It was only when I looked at a small filly running by that I began feeling uncomfortable. Where the foal's face should have been, there was only a smudged mess; and indeed, every pony, save for the princesses—and, I assumed, myself—was unidentifiable.

“What are you thinking, making that?!” Cadence snapped, pointing angrily in my direction. “Tonight of all nights! You destroy my dream, and you bring in that?!”

“Calm down, Cadence,” Luna said. “You are correct, tonight is very important. That is why it is crucial that you remain calm.”

“How can you ask me to—” Cadence stopped mid-sentence, looking down and wheezing. She took a deep breath, and continued in a much calmer manner. “How can you ask me to stay calm when that's staring right at me? I can't do this. Not tonight.”

I inched closer to the arguing pair carefully. Cadence shot me a disgusted look.

“Please,” she said, “make it go away.”

“I will not make her disappear,” Luna said.

Cadence looked at her in confusion. “What?” She looked at me, then back at Luna. “Do you mean she's....”

Luna nodded.

“Y-you're...” Cadence began, choking on her words as if she were about to cry. “No, you're lying. You wouldn't.”

I looked at Luna questioningly; her nod gave me the go-ahead.

“I assure you, Cadence,” I began, “I am quite real.”

Cadence's eyes went wide, and her hind legs went numb. She sat down, her jaw hanging agape. Tears swelled in her eyes. She slowly turned her gaze towards Luna. “How could you do this to me?”

“She found out on her own,” Luna replied.

“You didn't even try!” Cadence's voice was cracked, and she struggled to hold her tears back.

“It was either this, or taking her out of the picture completely. You would not have stood for that.”

Cadence opened her mouth, but Luna interrupted.

“Don't act like you would have.”

“But I—” Her voice cracked again. She looked at me. “I can't have her see me like this. I can't.” She turned around and buried her face in her hooves.

“She already has,” Luna replied. “Half the Royal Guard has, in fact. Outside, on the wall. Don't you remember?”

Cadence pulled at her mane. “Don't look at me. Don't look at me!”

“Cadence, please,” I said, stepping up beside her. “I don't know what exactly is happening. But if Luna thinks that I can help....”

She looked up at me, and I saw her tears rolling. “You can't help. Nopony can. Luna's been trying, so hard and for so long, and what has that accomplished?”

Nothing.

I felt sick and I heaved. For a moment, I thought I was going to throw up. The moment passed, however, and I felt fine again. The two princesses didn't seem to have noticed at all.

“I will show her everything,” Luna said. “Unless you want to tell her yourself.”

“Do it then,” Cadence said, burying her face in her hooves again. “If you absolutely must.”

Cadence disappeared, and I heard Luna's voice in my head once again.

“It began when Queen Chrysalis arrived.”

Innocence

Chapter 11:
Innocence

“It began when Queen Chrysalis arrived.”

I turned to look at Luna, but she wasn't there. Canterlot's spires had crumbled, the grass had dried and died, and I no longer felt the warmth of the Sun. I looked up, but the sky was gone, replaced by rocks and stone.

“Let me go!”

Vile green goo covered Cadence's body, and it strapped her to a brightly glowing crystal that protruded from the bare ground. Changeling drones swarmed and made the cave's walls look alive. Before Cadence, Queen Chrysalis stood, grinning at her helpless victim.

This was her memory of being imprisoned beneath Canterlot, who knows how long before I eventually freed her.

“I said let me go!” Cadence yelled.

Chrysalis smiled. “No.”

“Let me, let—”

The queen put her black hoof onto the struggling princess' mouth. “No.”

Cadence struggled more, to no avail.

“Honestly,” Chrysalis said, “I think Canterlot is better off without you. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”

“How so?”

“Well, just look at yourself.” Chrysalis put her hoof under Cadence's chin, but she pulled away. “You're useless. Tell me, princess, what have you ever accomplished in your life?”

Cadence did not answer; she didn't even look.

“Oh, come now,” Chrysalis said. “Don't be shy.”

“Happiness,” she finally said, turning towards her captor.

“That's lovely.” Chrysalis giggled. “And tell me, how did that work out for you?”

“Once Shining Armor finds out—”

“My husband-to-be love, love, loves me. And he will, until the day he dies.”

“You monster!”

“Oh, watch the language, silly filly. Consider the facts: you're gone, and no pony even noticed. Half your brother's guards are my children. As I've said, you're useless.”

Chrysalis leaned closer to Cadence. I could feel her cold breath on my neck, and I heard her voice as if she was whispering to me rather than her.

“You see,” Chrysalis began, “big girls get what they want.”

Big girls get what they want.

“Queen Chrysalis changed her,” I heard Luna again.

I saw a familiar lavender unicorn burst through the wall and find Cadence.

“Even after she was gone...”

In the blink of an eye, Chrysalis and her changeling army was expelled from Equestria.

“Cadence was never the same.”

It's not that simple.

“What happened to her?” I asked. “How could she change so much?”

Princess Luna was standing at my side. I lost my balance for a moment, and I almost fell down a long flight of stairs. Regaining my posture, I looked around. The walls were made of stairs and doors, and they turned and bent in ways that defied rational thought. Through little cracks, I could catch glimpses of different events in Cadence's life. We were, I realised, inside the dollhouse, yet still outside Cadence's mind, standing on the brim of her consciousness.

“Walk with me,” Luna said.

She began walking upwards, and I followed quickly. The bottom of the impossible space seemed to close in on us faster than the top. I understood it, then; but, just like a dream, I can't possibly imagine it now. My head was spinning and splitting.

In time, we reached a door somewhere atop or below. I recognised its design; it was from Canterlot, and belonged to a high-class residence. Luna nodded at me urgingly. I put a hoof on the knob and pulled carefully.

Inside I saw a vision of love and hate. My parents argued, but then they made up; my mother cooked dinner, but my father refused to eat it; he embraced her, but she was looking at somepony else. Then they were lying in the dirt, covered by sheets so that I couldn't tell them apart, and guards surrounded them, and their door was open, and Shining Armor stood there, and Cadence cried—

No!

I slammed the door shut, leaning onto it with two hooves so that it wouldn't open again. Only then did I notice that I was gasping for air. My whole body trembled.

“I am sorry, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said. “You asked to know everything. Through that door are secrets that have been kept from you.”

I closed my eyes, straining my hooves to push the door closed with even greater force. Do I really want to know? Perhaps forgetting would be a mercy.

See this.

“Where are you going?” Luna asked in a worried tone.

But I wasn't going anywhere. Not that I could tell, at any rate. The door disappeared, and before I could open my eyes, I was falling. Then I was floating, and water filled my lungs. For a moment, I felt compelled to just let go and be swallowed by the sea of regret.

Sand covered my mane.

I coughed, and for a while, there was only water coming up. I could finally take a deep breath. Standing up, I brushed the sand out of my mane and fur. Then I coughed some more. It took me a minute to regain my strength.

It was warm again, warmer than I liked. An oversized Sun was in its zenith, creating mirages along a long beach. To the left and right, the sand seemed to go on for eternity. Behind me, the gentle waves of a peaceful ocean licked the shore, and before me was a dense jungle of tall tropical trees. My head hurt too much to think. Moving it made me sick, and so I tried to keep it as level and motionless as I could.

“Luna?” I asked.

No answer came.

There was movement among the trees. Fallen leaves rustled and made a crunching noise. A younger Cadence soon emerged onto the endless beach, her mane done up in a stylish ponytail. It was just as I remembered from her foalsitting days. Beside her, I also saw an echo of myself: a young lavender filly who hadn't even got her cutie mark yet. They smiled and laughed with each other, walking straight towards me.

When they came close, Cadence stopped and looked me in the eye. She was different, now; she wasn't young any more. She was taller than I remembered, too. And despite her kind gaze, her eyes held something different.

Something sinister.

I looked at the filly beside her. She wasn't me. Her colours reminded me of my brother.

“Cadence?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Where are we? What happened to Luna?”

“She isn't here.”

“Why?”

“I don't want her to be.”

I heard the water grow restless behind me.

“Why me, then?”

The sounds of crashing waves intensified. Cadence gasped, and looked down at the foal, who wasn't there any more.

“Because it's your fault,” she said, looking not at me but at the sea behind me.

Then she turned around and ran swiftly back into the tangles of the forest. I lost sight of her quickly.

A roar sounded behind me, and I turned around to look. From the sea rose a massive monster, a grotesque sea serpent that bled from many wounds. Its head alone was bigger than my entire body, and most of it was still concealed by the water. It rose higher and higher, looking down at me ravenously. I took a few steps back, and it lowered its head onto the sand, its long body arching above the shoreline.

It seemed to be in pain, and its entire body throbbed spasmodically as its mouth gaped. I saw a pair of hooves reach out from its throat. Then came a head, and the rest; a frightened boar, drenched in the monster's bodily fluids, leapt from its mouth and ran for the forest.

The snake heaved more, and it vomited up another boar, and another, and sometimes more than one at once, until there were too many to count. As they all rushed past me and into the forest, I realised where I was. This was no memory, no daydream or stray thought. I was reliving a nightmare.

Just as I made that discovery, my body began acting on its own, turning to follow the pigs. I was aware of it, and I did nothing to stop it. Perhaps I was doing it on my own accord. The many boars had trampled a path for me into the dense forest, and I followed this pig-run as the snake rose again and began creeping after us.

We ran fast, and we ran deep, the monster in pursuit. While the pigs and I had to jump and crawl to make it through the forest, the trees broke and shattered with thunderous noise under the weight of the snake. It lashed out periodically, tearing everything apart before itself. I could barely keep ahead. Some of the boars fell and tripped, and were soon crushed under the serpent's massive body.

The trees ahead of us caught fire, and soon I was breathing in more ash and smoke than real air. It scraped my throat and I coughed heavily. Somehow, all that didn't impede my ability to run. I just hated the taste.

The fires grew and consumed everything. Branches cracked and trees fell, sending storms of cinder and embers into the air. A boar was blinded and squealed; another crashed into the burning growth, catching fire as it ran in deeper, screaming. The yellowish light of the midday Sun was outshined entirely by the hellish red flames.

We came to a mountain, long overgrown by the great forest. Flames consumed its surface as we approached, but there was a cave opening at its side which provided respite from the fire. The pigs sped inside, and so did I, the snake still coming swiftly behind us.

Inside it was dark, but I could see. A pig took a wrong step, and I heard its leg snap; several others fell over it as it tripped. Rocks fell from the cave ceiling, crushing some and slowing more; in mere seconds, the snake squashed them as it crawled past. The floor cracked and opened, and the last remaining boars fell into a searing abyss beneath.

I was the only one left, still running ever deeper, fleeing the horrible monster behind me. The long tunnel came to an end; a massive rock wall obstructed my path. I ran up to it, unwilling to stop, and found a narrow crack in the wall, just barely enough for me to squeeze into. Without hesitation, I crawled inside and continued moving forward. The rock shook as the snake crashed into the wall. In there, it couldn't reach me.

I got through the crawlspace and emerged on the other side. I found myself in the open again; the mountain rose high behind me. There was no more fire, and I couldn't hear the serpent.

The tropical heat was gone as well, replaced by a delightful afternoon warmth. The trees were different than what I had seen on the other side of the mountain; they weren't the exotic things I couldn't name. In fact, I recognised them from their beautiful pink contours: they were cherry trees.

A narrow, curving path began at the crack from which I crawled and it snaked forward between the slender trees. A calming scent filled the air, and the roots of the trees sprouted from the ground, making elegant arches before returning into the earth. Even the branches twisted, but only in pleasing ways, creating different, smooth shapes and casting splendid shadows. The cherries that hung low were large, and exuded an aura of innocence.

The grove was something out of a fairy tale.

I walked along the curving road, and I caught a glimpse of the sky between two trees. There was no Sun, but a heart where it should have been. With each slow beat, a gentle breeze stroked my mane.

Coming around a tree, I finally saw Cadence sitting at the centre of the thicket. She poked at the ground with a hoof, as if waiting for something. I thought I could see sadness in her eyes.

“Cadence?” I called out to her.

She turned to me, and showed a painful smile. I walked closer.

“Cadence, please,” I said, sitting down beside her. “I want to help you.”

For a while, Cadence was silent. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

She pushed me onto the ground, laying me on my back. She put two hooves onto my neck and pressed down hard, choking me. I tried to ask her to stop, but I couldn't. I tried to kick her off, but I was too weak.

“I don't want to do this,” she sobbed.

But we are.

I was in my bed, tucked in carefully. I felt warm and safe. Mummy rocked the bed gently. But she wasn't mummy.

“It's not fair!” Cadence cried.

Nothing is.

My legs deadened. My throat was crushed, and Cadence refused to stop. I couldn't struggle any more. Dark clouds gathered in the sky and blocked out the Heart. As the first drops of rain fell, I closed my eyes.

I took a deep breath.

I stood looking at the cherry tree at the Canterlot Park again. Foals played and adults laughed. Under the tree, Shining Armor held a crying Cadence. I wanted to go to them. When I took a step, however, they came no closer. I walked, and then I ran, but the grassy field stretched faster than I could go. I would never reach them.

A yank at my hind legs made me fall forward. Then it was dark and cramped.

I barely even fit under the bed.

She'd never think to look for me here. Cadence opened the door.

All I could see of her from my hiding place were her hooves. I felt the floorboards shake with my tummy as she walked.

“Twilight,” she called out playfully. “I know you're in here somewhere!”

I could hardly stop myself from snickering. I mustn't. It would “give away my position,” as Shiny would say.

Cadence's hooves made their clattery way to the wardrobe. “I've checked everywhere else,” she said as one of them disappeared. “And believe me, I've been thorough.”

The wardrobe opened, and Cadence began shifting around the clothes. At first, she just fumbled blindly around inside.

“Oh, you're really deep in there. Think I won't look hard enough? Think again.”

Clothes began flying out, glowing in blue light. I never understood why mum insisted on having so many... I hated wearing them. The floor was soon covered with the glorified rags. All those things just for going to theatres and restaurants!

When the wardrobe was empty, Cadence sighed. The clothes slowly floated up, and she dusted them off one by one before they flew back—again carefully folded—to their place. She closed the wardrobe doors, giving a nervous giggle.

“Don't tell mummy about that, okay? Okay?”

Of course, I didn't answer.

“You know she taught me her special cake recipe? I can bake you one if we keep this between us.”

I gave my silent approval. She kept her word, a few days later. It tasted something awful.

She walked to the centre of the room and sat down, her hooves facing me directly. What now? She didn't move, and for a while, didn't say anything. She can't see me. I can't see her eyes. Calm down.

“Oh, there you are,” she said in a relieved tone. “I thought I'd never find you.”

What? No way!

She turned to the side a little. “You can come out now. I can see you.”

No you can't, you big liar.

“I can see you, Twilight,” she chortled.

You can't.

She turned around, her back towards me now. “I know what you're thinking. And I can, too.”

Oh, no you can't! I stuck my head out. My horn almost got stuck in there. “Liar, liar, flanks on fire!”

Cadence showed a devious grin. She squished my nose with the tip of a hoof. “Boop,” she said. “Gotcha.”

I couldn't believe I fell for that.

“Oh, look at you,” she said, lifting me with a tug of magic. “We agreed you wouldn't go in there. You're too big for it. Now you're all dirty.” She shook her head with a smile. “Who's the liar now?”

“You,” I said, sticking my tongue out at her.

“Why you,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Come on now.” Her magic slowly placed me onto the floor again, letting me go. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

“Can't we go another round?”

Cadence walked to the door and beckoned for me to follow. “After your mane's not full of dust. Maybe. You'll have to impress me.” With that, she left.

“Sunshine, sunshine,” I said as I ran to catch up.

Cadence laughed. “Ladybugs play hide and seek.”

As Cadence and Twilight left the room, I sat on the bed.

“Sunshine, sunshine,” Cadence whispered. She sat next to me. Our weight didn't affect the mattress at all. Turning to her, I saw that her head was hung. “That used to be my sunshine.”

“I don't understand,” I said. “I remember this. I remember this.”

“We aren't in my mind,” she said. “We are in our mind. Some interesting things you've got in there.”

The room was at once gone, replaced by a cold winter night at Sweet Apple Acres. Frozen patches of snow hung from my legs. A silver-tipped crossbow bolt was stuck in a tree. I had hit the monster, I was sure of that; evidently, however, the bolt passed straight through its incorporeal form. How does one fight a shadow?

Apple Bloom had been sick for weeks, and her time was running short. Even Zecora couldn't help her. But I could. I only had to exorcise the demon. But how? When I realised that Apple Bloom's illness began right after the first snowfall, I knew what it was that this being called home.

A considerable portion of the apple orchard was burnt to a crisp that night, and the cursed snow melted with it. They never made the connection to me. Incidentally, that winter was when I first noticed how broken my connection with Applejack was.

A cold breeze swept dried leaves out of my way. It was in early autumn that I visited the Germane town of Nachthengst: the place of my father's birth. Granddad died before his son did, and my grandmother wasn't faring well. When I wasn't tending to her, I was out dealing with the unruly gargoyle of their ancient Sun temple.

“All the lies,” Cadence said. “My sunshine is a liar. But it's my fault, in the end.”

I wasn't offended at the apparent invasion of my mind. I wasn't even scared. I was only one thing.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“When I was young,” Cadence said, “I wondered why I even do it. Celestia made me watch over children, and for what? Even she didn't know what to do with me. She and Luna, they live above us, all of us. They have the wisdom of a thousand years and more. They act like I'm just like them, but I'm not. I've always felt I have no reason to exist.”

“You say I was your sunshine. You meant the world to me.”

“And that became my reason to be. I had nothing else. Now I wish we could go back, back to where we were then. I could foalsit you again, and you could be my favourite little filly again.”

“But I'm not a foal any more. And you're not a foalsitter. You are a princess, and I... I am here to help you.”

“A princess...” She sniffed. “What good is that? Because that's exactly what Celestia told me. When I grew up, I had to start acting like a princess. No more foalsitting. It was the one thing I loved. The one thing I was good for. But I didn't mind, at first. I was looking forward to growing up. Now....”

She hung her head again, and mumbled something I couldn't understand.

“What's wrong?” I asked. “Talk to me.”

There is nothing left for us.

A tree's branch spurted from the ceiling just above Cadence. At first it seemed withered, but as it grew and thickened, a pleasant brown filled in the dead greys. Leaves sprouted at its sides, and the branch parted in two, the resulting twins snaking around one another in an organic dance. Pink flowers, in the colour of Cadence's own coat, bloomed from the branches, and soon the entire ceiling was covered with their beauty.

“It's all I've ever wanted,” Cadence whispered. “I can't have a child.”

“What?” was the only thing I could say.

She snapped her head towards me, snarling, and screamed in the cracked voice of a crying mare. “I can't have a child!”

The room trembled. The sky thundered. The walls cracked, and from the cracks poured cold water. The tapestry melted. The bed was soaking wet. Cadence was freezing cold. I couldn't speak.

“There's nothing left for me,” she said. “Nothing.”

Her voice was waning. She gulped to lubricate her dry throat. Then she looked forward blankly, straightening her back and lifting her chin. The room was beautiful again. I looked for the right words, but found none.

“Don't worry,” she said. “You don't have to say a thing.”

I nodded. She looked down, and a bittersweet smile crept onto her lips.

“It's interesting,” she began, “how a mind connects some things. Sometimes, somehow, it just clicks.” She looked at me again. “I can see it. The smell of a fresh book reminds you of your mother. When you have a nightmare, you think of your father. I get that too, you know. There's this one memory I have... the worst I have. It's what Luna wanted to show you before I snatched you away. And every time I'm reminded of it, I also remember something entirely different. I'd like you to see it.”

With that, she got up and left the room. I stepped off the bed of my childhood and onto a bed of soft grass. We were in the park again.

A young Twilight Sparkle was running for the cherry tree. When she reached it, she tapped her hoof on it quickly, then looked back victoriously. Cadence caught up with her in a matter of seconds.

Twilight stuck her tongue out. “Faster than you,” she said amidst heavy panting.

“Drat,” Cadence said, giving a shady grin. “I just can't beat you.”

Heh. “Did I really fall for that?” I asked. I couldn't help but smile.

“Sunshine, sunshine,” the filly Twilight began.

“Ladybugs awake,” the young Cadence continued.

“Clap your hooves...”

“And do a little shake!”

Cadence looked at me with a raised brow.

“I don't even remember this,” I said.

“I'm so glad you're here,” Twilight said. “You're the best!”

“I'm happy too,” the sly Cadence replied. “We'll always be happy, right?”

“Of course.”

Something about their bright faces made me feel uneasy. Indeed, there was something in the air; the smell of lies.

“I thought you wouldn't remember it,” Cadence said. “Luna still believes I didn't notice how she smuggled thoughts into my head.”

“Why would she do that?” I asked.

“She erects these walls of happiness around my darkest moments. She thinks it helps me. It doesn't.”

“I'm not sure I get it, though. Why is Luna trying to help you? What happened to you? Is it all because of your... condition?”

“No!” she broke out. “It's what she thinks, too! But she doesn't understand. Nopony does. It's not about you. It's not about the kids. It's about me. Me!”

I had to take a step back. Clouds were forming in the sky again.

“Why am I a princess? What am I good for? The only reason anypony knows I exist is because of my wedding. And they only noticed that happened because of Queen Chrysalis and her children!”

A storm raged now, and the cherry tree swayed in the wind as though it was ready to snap in half.

“I should never have been discovered. I should've been allowed to live out my pointless existence and wither and die in peace!”

The water covered my fetlocks.

“And the insult! Like saying nice things will help me. She acts as if a few memories given or stolen is all it takes. She thinks she understands, that we are the same. We are not the same. We are not the same!”

A great wave washed over me and I was consumed again by the tide of remorse.

Guilt

Chapter 12:
Guilt

“We are not the same!”

Cadence's voice echoed in my head louder than the waves. The ocean swept me away, far away, and its cold waves pushed me deeper into the darkness.

Go on now.

I blinked. The water was gone. I found myself standing, again, within the unreal labyrinth of doors and stairs. Cadence wasn't with me any more, and Luna was still nowhere to be seen. In front of me was the Canterlot-style door, the one I had failed to open. I knew what I would find on the other side. I stepped through before I could change my mind.

It was Mother's Day.

Shining Armor and Princess Cadence sat at a gorgeous table. On the far side were my parents. I recognised the room; it was the dining room where I ate every day, three times a day, before Celestia took me under her wing. It was where Shining would tease me about “never eating enough” and “staying small forever.”

A decorative plate hung from the wall behind my parents. As a foal, it weren't its pretty colours that amazed me the most, but the very fact that it even was there. Mum insisted it was beautiful, but all I could think about was “Why would anypony use plates for decoration?” What astonished me now was Cadence's ability to recall it in such detail. Well that, or I, too, had forgotten what it really looked like.

For a while, I wondered why I wasn't there with them. Then I remembered: Shining did send me an invitation, but I didn't go. I was busy, down in Ponyville, researching... something. I can't even recall what it was. I do remember thinking that I couldn't possibly be interrupted; that I'd go next year, and bring twice as many gifts. But of course, there never was a next year for us.

An appetising cake was on a tray in the middle of the table. Cadence baked it herself. She thought it would be much more personal than buying flowers, like everypony does, even if Shining couldn't do it himself. Frosting on the top read “For Equestria's Best Mother.”

I could see them talk, and I could hear their words. My mind, however, couldn't process them. I was unable to make out the exact sounds, but somehow their meaning still reached me. Cadence, it seemed, didn't remember every last thing after all.

There was talk of my absence, and my father cracked a joke at my expense. Mum wasn't amused at all. After an awkward pause, dad reached for a knife. Shining stopped him; he would get it. He cut each of them a slice from the cake, and they talked a little more. I felt the taste of cake in my mouth, and it was magnificent. Shining then stood up, and excused himself. He said he needed to use a little stallion's room.

When he left, mum asked Cadence about her new life with Shining. She asked if he was treating her well. Dad asked if she was treating him well. Mum wondered if there was room for one more in there.

There was a sudden pain in my heart, as if somepony had driven a knife through it. Cadence dropped her fork. A napkin floated to her mouth and she cleaned her lips, then excused herself as well. She wasn't feeling very well; must be something she ate yesterday, she said. She walked outside because she needed some fresh air. She'd only be a moment.

She thought she could forget about it. She's a princess of Equestria, adult and married, yet even now, it's the only thing they expect from her. The children, always the children. And she couldn't even do what any mare could. The one thing she's good for.

Useless.

She couldn't take it.

As she reached the door, she heard my parents bickering. It's your fault, no it's yours, you shouldn't have asked, you shouldn't have said. It's improper, it's not nice, it's too forward. No it's not, it's perfectly reasonable question.

The stabbing pain subsided, giving its place over to a blunt heaviness in my chest. That is love for you. Sometimes you do things your significant other won't like. Lovers fight. It happens. Happiness can't last forever.

Can't it? Isn't that what everypony wants?

I felt a sudden rush. My heart beat faster and faster each passing second, and a chill ran down my spine. The feeling reminded me of what I sensed when I held Cadence's hair-amulet. A storm gathered, now, in Cadence's mind, and the black clouds seemed ready to burst into a downpour. Then the sky was clear again.

Cadence walked back into the room. Mum and dad smiled at her. He asked if she was okay. Cadence smiled at him. Her horn lit up, and my father's eyes glowed. Mum asked what's going on. Cadence replied by turning towards her, her horn shining even brighter. Mother turned towards dad. He looked into mother's eyes, and in there, he saw something he hadn't seen in years. Mother was enchanted. They couldn't look away. A warmness filled my heart, the kind of which I've never felt before.

Shining returned and questioned Cadence. She shrugged. He suggested that maybe they should leave them be. They did. Cadence was ready to jump out of her skin in joy. She could barely contain herself, grinning ear to ear. Shining was as surprised as he was pleased.

Cadence had always been keen on helping others through difficult times, but for all the little spells she had cast, she never felt to have made a difference in the long term. That would all change now. The Princess of Love had found her purpose. Before, she had been too afraid to use her unique powers to their full potential.

Not any more.

Shining Armor and Princess Cadence sat in a gorgeous room. It was Cadence's bedroom, and it was early in the morning. The two just got up. It's been months since Mother's Day, and Cadence had gone out of her way to help many ponies since then. Although she barely remembered the first, there was a connection between these two days in her mind.

She was brushing her mane in the mirror. Through the great windows, the morning light flooded in, bringing with itself the brightness of another perfect day. In the mirror, she could see Shining on the bed, looking her way and smiling. She was happy.

Then there was a knock on the door. Not a soft one, not one concerned about what they might have been doing at such an early hour. It was powerful, fast, violent. The knocks thundered again, and the room seemed to shake.

“Captain Shining Armor!” came the muffled voice of a Royal Guard. “Captain Shining Armor!”

Cadence and Shining exchanged a look. She shrugged. Shining got out of bed and and opened the door slightly. Cadence kept careful watch through the mirror. She could see only the muzzle of the guard as he leaned in. He spoke swiftly, and Shining stopped him halfway through, asking something. He sounded worried. The guard lowered his head and Cadence couldn't see the muzzle any more. Shining looked at her, gaping, then back outside. He nodded, said a few words, then closed the door. He looked at Cadence again.

“I have to go,” he said.

Cadence remembered his voice well. “What happened?” she asked.

“It's... my parents,” he replied.

By the time Cadence put her brush down, Shining was already gone.

Shining Armor and Princess Cadence stood before a wall of Royal Guards. The wall was a barrier between them and the home of my parents. Their door was wide open, but they couldn't get close. The street was blockaded.

A Night Guard unicorn walked outside, his horn glowing. He turned his head side to side, and squinted his eyes as if he were looking for something, eyeing everypony with a suspicious look. His gaze passed Cadence, and Cadence felt it lingered a little longer on her than on anypony else. A Royal Guard came to the unicorn and said something. The unicorn's horn stopped glowing, and he shook his head. Cadence thought she saw the unicorn look at her again, but she might have been just making things up.

Just nearby, another Royal Guard was attempting to coerce information from a catatonic Twilight Sparkle. I remembered that day. Well, some of it. It was supposed to be a surprise visit, since I missed Mother's Day and I felt terrible about it. I even brought flowers. I rang the doorbell, but they wouldn't open. I was afraid they didn't want to see me. I remembered that they kept a spare key under the doormat. I've always told them that was dangerous. Inside, I found the three of them. And there was so much blood....

The wall of guards opened for Shining and he walked past. Then he fell to his knees. The opening gave Cadence a second to see three ponies lying on the road just outside the residence, covered by white sheets. My horn prickled, and my chest felt heavy again. A sudden rush through my body felt as if somepony had dumped a barrel of freezing water on me.

Cadence rushed forward, but the wall closed before her. The guards wouldn't let her closer, yet she tried to wrestle her way through them. They stood their ground, keeping her outside, no matter how much she struggled.

“No!” she screamed. “No! No! No!”

She repeated that until her throat was sore by the exertion and her vision was blurred by her tears. For she could tell what happened, and I saw it before myself as well. My mother, she was the one lying on the right. She was consumed by lust and soon my father wasn't enough. The pony in the middle, he was a young stallion who just thought himself lucky. My father, on the left, would have none of it.

I felt a stab in my groin. Then one in my chest, and a third through my neck.

Then I was furious. Furious that Velvet would do this to me. How could she? Can't she see how much I love her? And with a kid, no less!

A stab at my heart made me reach for my chest. I thought I felt blood trickling down my hoof, but when I looked, there was nothing there.

I slit my own throat.

Cadence couldn't speak any more. She just cried.

This isn't what we wanted.

But it is what we do.

I wanted, with every bit of my being, to hate Cadence. Yet even so, somehow, I couldn't. Perhaps my mind figured that she hated herself enough; what use would there be in adding to an already infinite pile?

“Twilight Sparkle?” Luna asked. She was beside me again. “Where were you?”

Don't say a thing.

“I... I don't know. I opened the door, and then I was here.”

“Do not get lost in here,” she said. “A mind can do strange things.”

“What happens if I get lost?”

“I would rather not find out.”

We looked at the scene playing out before us.

“So that's the truth then?” I asked. “Cadence killed my parents?”

“She did not!” Luna snapped. She took a moment to compose herself. “Don't you say that. Do not, ever, say that. What happened to your parents is regrettable. They were but innocent victims in this tragedy. But you have to understand, so is Cadence.”

“How could she be innocent?”

Luna spread her wings, and her horn lit up. I was in Cadence's room again. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark.

Princess Cadence was sitting alone before her shattered mirror. A hundred tiny reflections refused to look back at her. There was a knock on the door.

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza!” Luna's voice thundered.

Cadence got up slowly, and began walking to the door. Before she reached it, it was thrown open, and Luna stormed inside. The door slammed shut.

“Look at me!” Luna commanded. Her voice sent shivers down my spine.

Cadence lifted her head slowly, and looked Luna in the eye. She didn't say a thing.

“What have you to say for yourself?” Luna asked.

“Nothing,” Cadence said. “I'm responsible. Do what you have to do.”

For a moment, Luna didn't answer. She finally sighed. “Cadence, why?”

She looked away. “I don't know. I just don't know.”

Luna put a hoof under Cadence's chin and turned her head to face her. Cadence's gaze trailed to the side, refusing to look Luna in the eye again.

“Cadence, why?” Luna asked again.

Cadence gulped. “I wanted to help. I thought they were unhappy. I just wanted to make them happy.”

“Have you done this before? Do you often help other ponies?”

She nodded. “But this time was different.”

“Different how?”

“I don't know. It was... it felt good. It made me feel good. I felt better than I ever had.”

Luna pulled her hoof back. “I see.”

“What's going to happen to me?”

“If Celestia finds out, there will be consequences.”

Cadence lowered her head.

“There is a reason that it was me knocking on your door rather than her, Cadence.”

She looked up again.

“I have not told her yet. And I do not want to.”

“Why not?”

“You do not deserve it.”

“But I do!” Cadence snapped. “I do! Princess of Love, as if! I'm useless. You know it, and Celestia knows it. Whole damn Equestria knows it. What am I even doing here, Luna? You and your sister control the sky. My biggest achievement is the murder of my in-laws. Oh, and I used to foalsit children. I deserve Celestia's fury. What I don't deserve is my crown. My title. My wealth. I am a disgrace! A disgusting, useless—”

Luna's hoof came down fast on Cadence's cheek, and the impact knocked her onto the floor. I felt the pain as well.

“Don't you say that!” Luna said. “Do not, ever, say that.”

Cadence stood up, and she snarled. “And why not?”

“I have been down that road. There is nothing for you at the end but pain.”

“So why are you here?! What do you want?”

“I'm here to give you the one thing I never had: a chance.”

She's always had a knack for self-delusion.

Luna—the real Luna—turned to me. “Not a single day passes when Cadence doesn't suffer for the things that happened. But she did not commit the crime. She never would. There is something growing inside her. Something I've pledged to weed out. And that is why you're here. You've helped me. Perhaps you can help her.”

“But I didn't help you,” I replied. “The Elements of Harmony did.”

“The elements banished me for a thousand years. I will not have Cadence be punished like that.”

“That's not for you to decide. The way I see it, Luna, Cadence caused the death of my parents, and who knows how many more. And you're helping her by covering it all up.” I stepped back. “How can you possibly justify that?”

“You may call me a murderer if you so desperately wish. But do you think, for a moment, that I have never called myself so? Do you really believe that I am not revolted by my own actions? I am guilty, Twilight Sparkle, of far more crimes than this. But Cadence is innocent. And I need you to prove that to her.”

“So what do you want me to do? Shall I lecture her about the magic of friendship? Will that un-murder my parents?”

“Help me save her!”

There was an enthusiastic clapping in the room. The anger in Luna's gaze faded and was replaced at first by surprise, and then worry. We turned to see Cadence looking at us with a smile on her face.

“Bravo, Loony,” she applauded. “A magnificent performance. It almost brought tears to my eyes.”

“Cadence?” I asked. I saw the same invisible sinisterness in her eyes that I had seen in her nightmare.

“The one and only!” she announced. “The Princess of Love, in the flesh! In a dream, anyway.” She looked away for a moment, then back at me. “Sorry about that thing earlier. I get so emotional. Luna's been telling me how I shouldn't let things get to me the way they do. Guess I just can't suppress my feelings the way she does.”

Luna stepped up, pushing me behind herself. “Give her back to us.”

“Oh, Loony, Loony,” Cadence chortled. “You've always had a knack for self-delusion. Just accept it: I am Cadence.”

“I won't warn you again.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do?”

“I will stop you.”

“Stop me, right.” Cadence nodded, pursing her lips and rolling her eyes. “Stop me, like the time I killed Twilight's parents? Stop me, like the other one hundred times I enchanted some random pony on the street since then?”

Cadence looked at me for a moment with piercing eyes. I felt as if she was scanning my very soul. Her eyes drew my gaze in, and I couldn't look away.

“Stop me,” Cadence said, “like the time I sentenced Aurora Iris to death?”

I was standing in a Canterlot street sometime in the afternoon.

Aurora Iris sat in a narrow, shadowed alley nearby. Her head was low and she cowered in shame, looking out into the street before her. Cadence was walking down that same street, and she noticed the quivering mare. Iris didn't see her; her eyes were fixed on a stallion further ahead. Cadence could tell Iris liked him, but she could never say it. So she reduced herself to pitiful stalking, and on the days when she was able to admit that to herself, she hated herself for it.

Cadence didn't mean to do much; just a little tug in the right direction. She only meant to give her the courage to talk. Before Cadence knew it, she had already cast a spell, and Aurora Iris was changed. Cadence walked away swiftly before her own conscience was able to catch up with her. For all the guilt that was on her mind, the same warmness that she had felt on Mother's Day now filled her heart again. No, more than that; it was even warmer.

The warmth grew addicting, and her heart begged for more. Weeks and months passed, and Aurora Iris was only one in a long line of ponies that Cadence “helped.” Cadence could sense them, all of them. She knew how they felt; she knew what they wanted; and she knew how they all ended. Some lasted long. Some couldn't take it. Some stories ended only with pain and a noose; Aurora's ended with the loss of purity and an axe. Cadence's heart was aflame, and she craved the searing pain.

“Stop me,” Cadence said, “like the time I was delivering the gala tickets in Cloudsdale?”

I was in a large, white room. My hooves pushed softly into the clouds. Flags and crests covered one wall, denoting the different houses of the noble pegasi who stood under them in an orderly line. Royal Guards lined the other wall, looking the pegasi in the eye with unblinking stares.

Cadence walked between them, and was followed close by Luna on one side, and Shining Armor on the other. Cadence stopped at every noble, and she held her chin high as the golden tickets floated over to them. Two steps, stop, ticket; two steps, stop, ticket. It was was simple. She had been nervous before, but now she was calm.

She came to see a broken pegasus with missing feathers and opaque eyes. Monsoon Descent fixed his stare on her, and when he showed his rotten teeth in a smile, Cadence felt something that disturbed her. Her heart rate climbed, her legs went stiff, and then she was on the floor. The ponies exchanged worried looks and the guards rushed over to her. She couldn't see it, but she could tell: Monsoon Descent was still smiling.

What she sensed in that stallion could bear no words. What frightened her, however, were not his fantasies of cruelty and torture, but that she herself had thought the same before.

Cadence was taken away; the rite of ticket delivery would resume the next day. But Cadence fled from her room in the night; she wanted to see Monsoon Descent alone. She told herself it would be a personal apology. It became a ritual of slit fetlocks, and Monsoon Descent received not a ticket but a patch of Cadence's blood-soaked mane.

Who would have guessed that where her body had failed to give birth to innocence incarnate, it was able to create monsters? Who knew it would be so fascinating?

“Or will you stop me,” Cadence asked, “like how you stopped me when I made a scene in front of half the Royal Guard just this evening? Because you know, mummy, I'm already in my room.”

I stepped up. “Cadence, you are not well.” An astute observation indeed.

Cadence burst out laughing. “See?” she asked, pointing at me. “This one, she knows what's up!” She cackled.

“Do not call her Cadence,” Luna said. “She is not Cadence.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, you know,” Cadence said. “I'm Cadence. It doesn't matter, not one little bit, how many times you say otherwise. Do you want to know what I think, Loony?”

“No.”

“I think you're... what's that word Shiny used?” Cadence looked at me again, raising an eyebrow, then back to Luna. “Projecting, that's it. I think you're projecting. You refuse to accept that I'm Cadence because then you'd have to accept that you're Nightmare Moon.”

“Silence!” Luna's voice boomed, and she stomped.

A blast of lightning illuminated the room for a split second. There was a storm outside.

“But I'm just repeating what you already know, really,” Cadence said. “And you know what? It's funny you should bring Twilight here tonight. She is very special to me.” She grinned at me. “Thank you, by the way, for talking to Shiny for me. He gets ever so unbearable.”

“You are nothing but a cancer,” Luna said, “and I will cure Cadence.”

Cadence laughed some more. “Or maybe, just maybe, Cadence can't be cured of me because I am Cadence. I'm Cadence, and I kill people. And you're helping me. Twilight hit the nail right on the head.” She giggled. “Oh, without you, I wouldn't be doing this. It's okay to feel guilty. It's even okay to hide it. But at least don't lie to yourself about it, Nightmare Moon.”

Luna's horn lit up, and I saw her cast a spell, yet nothing happened.

Cadence grinned. “Okay, I can see it's upsetting you. You don't like being called that, I get it. But I also know that there was a time when you didn't call her Nightmare Moon at all.”

Luna took a shaky step back. I'd never seen her afraid before.

“Oh, yes,” Cadence continued. “I know all about your foalhood playmate. You thought I was just sitting around idly, all these years, whilst you ransacked my mind to your heart's content? No, no! I've dug up some interesting gems over the years.”

“Y-you're lying,” Luna replied. She looked at me—she was terrified—then quickly back at Cadence.

Cadence grinned in turn. “Am I lying? Am I? Let's see, shall we?” She turned to me. “The little protégé is going to love this next part.”

We

Chapter 13:
We

“The little protégé is going to love this next part.”

There was a bright light, and I had to close my eyes. My hooves lifted off the ground.

I was standing on the top of a gentle, grassy hill under a splendid night sky where a full Moon shone bright. The hill was surrounded by a vast forest on all sides; an island in the sea of leaves. A tender breeze made the tall grass whisper.

A young filly emerged from between the trees, and made her determined way to the top of the hill. Her little horn barely reached above the grass as she waded upwards. She didn't seem to notice me.

When she reached the top, I noticed she wasn't just a unicorn, for she had herself a pair of wings. I looked at this tiny blue figure, and I realised: it was Luna's foalhood self from ages long lost. At the crest of the hill, little Luna closed her eyes and her horn began glowing. There was a sudden burst of wind around her, and the tall grass swirled and fell, creating a soft bed on the ground for her. She sat down and looked up at the sky with utter wonder in her eyes.

“Hello,” she said with a smile.

She wasn't looking at me—she couldn't have been—but there was nopony else there.

“I'm fine, thank you,” she said. “And how are you? Got a little fat again, I see?”

Luna giggled. And I realised that she was talking to the Moon. Or rather, talking with the Moon, judging by her attitude.

“Hey, it's okay!” she shouted in a worried tone, hopping onto her hooves. “It's okay. I keep telling you, I don't care. I will always be right here for you. Even when you hide. Don't worry.” She sat down again. “That's right.”

She sat there for several minutes, just smiling at the Moon. Occasionally, she tilted her head and batted an ear, as if listening to a tale. She nodded a few times, giggling, perhaps acknowledging something clever. She gave her full attention—and childlike admiration—to the silent sky.

“Oh, Nanny Moon,” she said, waving a dismissive hoof, “you so silly! Of course they love you. Everypony loves you. You keep saying that. Don't be saying that. I'm sorry, what was that?”

Luna gasped. At the bottom of the hill, where she came from, there was some noise again.

“No, no,” Luna whispered hurriedly. “Thanks. I'll, we'll talk again. Shoo. Shoo!”

The Moon, of course, didn't go anywhere. There was a new arrival, however: a taller, white figure made her way through the grass. She was able to advance much faster than the little one did. And this must be Celestia, I collected.

“Luna?” she asked, reaching the top. “What are you doing out here?”

“We... I mean I was just... talking to the Moon.”

“The Moon?” Celestia chortled. “The Moon's not alive, stupid.”

Her tone was playful, but I could tell it hurt Luna.

“Tia, language!” she said.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Celestia laughed again, sitting down beside Luna. She looked up at the sky as well. “Hear that? Sorry!” she yelled, still laughing. She slowly stopped, and sighed. “It's beautiful, though, I'll give you that.”

“I know,” Luna said, puffing her chest proudly. “And soon it'll all be mine.”

“That's right. You know, I'm glad you're finally taking over the night.”

“Hmm?” Luna turned to Celestia. “Why's that?”

“I just cannot stand it. It's very you.”

“Hey!”

“No, I mean, it's so... sombre.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

It wasn't the implication that escaped her, but the actual meaning of that last word. Little Luna wasn't quite the orator she would become just yet, it seemed.

Celestia reached a hoof around Luna, and pulled her close. “Hmm, maybe you should read a few more books first. You're not ready.”

“Am too,” she replied. “And my sky will be so much better than yours.”

“What?” Celestia asked. “The Sun is nothing to scowl at.”

“Yes, well, that's because she blinds you if you do.”

“That only makes one appreciate its beauty more.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Yes it does.”

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

“Does not!”

Celestia burst out laughing. “All right, Luna, you win. It doesn't make any sense.”

“See?” Luna grinned.

“It's still true, though.” Celestia sent her a cheeky wink.

“That makes no sense.”

“Yes it does.”

“Does not.”

The scene slowly withered before my eyes. Sounds were muffled, colours were drained, then the shapes became blurry, and soon there was nothing left.

Large stone bricks began stacking themselves in the nameless aether. Walls were erected, a ceiling was built, and a floor slid under my hooves. There was a spark of flames, and a fireplace lit up. The room seemed ancient in design, but freshly built. The grey walls were offset by the warm colours emanating from the dancing fire.

Celestia paced up and down, shaking her head. I could tell by the way she carried herself that she was a grown mare now, both in body and mind. Luna, also much taller now, sat in the middle of the room, hanging her head in shame.

“You can't keep running off like that,” Celestia said. “Not if you can't keep track of time.”

“I just wanted to give her some company,” Luna whispered.

Celestia sighed heavily. “It's a gigantic rock anchored to the planet. It does not need your company.”

Luna didn't answer.

“Look, Luna,” Celestia continued. “If you want to go outside and stare at the Moon, go ahead, be my guest. But I've been telling you, you're going to miss the time one of these days. And what was it you kept saying?”

No answer.

“No, no, Tia. I know what time it is. No, I won't miss it. You can trust me, Tia.” Celestia scoffed. “You are such an, you're such a... irresponsible. That's what you are, Luna, irresponsible.”

“Look, it doesn't even matter!” Luna snapped. “I did lower the Moon! It's not like I forgot.”

“Yes, yes you did forget. Don't act like you didn't.”

“It wasn't even five minutes!”

“Four minutes and thirty-three more seconds before the start of dawn, Luna. Do you really think that doesn't matter?”

“Does it?”

“Does it?!” Celestia stopped pacing, and stormed straight up to Luna. “Does it? That's that much less time for flowers to bloom. For bees to fly. That's that much less time to play for the children. That much less time for our subjects to work and live. Don't even get me started on the global wind systems. They depend on the heat from the Sun, don't you get that? And if the winds stop, they... you could wipe out all life on the face of this planet.” She knocked on Luna's head with a hoof. “Did that sink in?!”

Luna sniffed.

“And now you're crying.” Celestia rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, bawl like you always do. Bawl at your incompetence.”

“It was an accident!” Luna yelled, tears dropping onto the floor. “We didn't mean to keep your precious Sun!”

“It's not about the... what do you mean, we?”

Luna put a hoof before her mouth, realising what she said. “It's, it's tradition, to use the royal we when discussing the—”

“There is no such tradition, Luna!”

Luna gasped.

Celestia lowered her voice. “Look, Luna, please—”

Luna got up and burst out of the room. When I turned to look where she was going, I found myself in a different place. There was a balcony, and I could tell I was high in a tower overlooking a great forest. There was a bed, a desk, and star charts hung from the wall above it. A telescope set lay against a wall, close by. A mirror hung just above the bed.

The door burst open, and Luna stamped inside, slamming the door shut with a kick of her hind hooves. She hopped into the bed and looked up into the mirror, still with tears in her eyes. Then there was an uncertain knock on the door.

“Luna?” came Celestia's voice. “Luna, please, don't do this. Talk to me.”

Luna eyed the mirror for a while, then shouted. “We have nothing to say to you!”

“Please. I just want to talk to... to both of you.”

“She thinks we're insane,” Luna whispered at the mirror. “She's ridiculing us all the time.”

“Luna?”

“We told you!” she shouted again. “Go away!”

“I'll... I'll be downstairs if you change your mind.”

“Tell me about it,” Luna whispered. “I know. I know. What?”

She gaped.

“What? No! Nanny, don't... that's not our name. We should what? That's insane! No. I'm not like her. I'm nothing like her. Don't say that. Don't, ever. But that's not our name. And we're not... I said no!”

Luna kicked the mirror, and it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The little shards fell onto the bed, and Luna's hoof trembled as she pulled back.

“No, no, no, no....” she whispered, looking at the pieces before her. “I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. Nanny? Can you hear me? Nanny? Nanny!”

Struggling with her tears, she picked up a pillow and wiped the pieces of broken glass from it. She took a deep breath and lowered her head, pressing her muzzle into the soft pillow and closing her eyes. As she did, my sight went dark as well. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face.

Then there was a long, muffled scream.

It echoed in my head even after she stopped. For a while, there was only the darkness and Luna's lingering scream.

Luna lay in her bed, looking at the ceiling.

I lay in the bed, looking at the ceiling.

I was Luna.

It was late at night, and the stars were blocked by dark clouds. Even the Moon didn't shine through. I was in complete darkness. I was in complete silence.

But I was not alone.

I could tell. I felt her eyes on me. She was standing at the foot of the bed. I knew she couldn't be there. If I had turned my head, I'd have found that there's nothing there. But I was too afraid to turn my head.

When I slept, she peered into my dreams.

I was out on the hill again, but the Moon was silent. She wasn't in the Moon; she was right behind me. When I turned to look, she hid in the grass so that I couldn't see her.

When I took a step, I could hear her moving too.

I was eating my dinner, locked alone in the cellar in hopes that I would not be disturbed. She hid behind a long shelf, and when I looked, she hopped behind another one so that I couldn't find her.

When I lifted a bite to my mouth, she asked if I would share.

I stood in a field of flowers, under the shining Sun, hoping that its light would drive her away. She took refuge in the shadow of a tree, hiding behind the trunk when I looked her way.

When my head was turned, I could hear her sing to me.

The thunder of her hooves crushed my dreams into nightmares, and ground my hopes into sorrow. I felt the warmth of her breath on my neck and I heard the chattering of her teeth at my ears. She was behind every door I opened and outside every window I looked. She was in my home and in my room and in my mind.

I've gone mad.

I wasn't Luna any more.

A peaceful breeze caressed my mane. The Moon was full again above the grassy hill. The grass, somehow, didn't seem as tall now. At the crest of the hill, a tall figure stood, silhouetted by the light of the Moon. She wasn't looking at it.

Her mane flowed slowly in the air, and her tail seemed a fog of darkness in the night. She wore an elegantly crafted set of armour on her pitch-black coat. The chestplate was broad; wearing it, she always looked proud. Her helmet was a mask to hide who she used to be.

Celestia came out from the forest again, marching upwards on the slope. Even in the dark, I could tell she was shaking with every step.

“Luna?” she asked. Her voice trembled.

“No,” the figure replied.

“Luna, don't do this. I beg of you. Come back to me.”

“Luna is dead.”

“Stop it, Luna! I know you want to come back. So just do.”

“My name is not Luna.”

Celestia stepped up to her, and leaned close to her face.

One of the mares trembled. The other stood tall. One was on the verge of tears. The other showed no emotion.

“Do you even recognise me?” Celestia asked.

“I am not your little sister any more.”

“Who are you?”

There was a flash of light, and Celestia was blown from the hilltop and sent tumbling down. The black figure watched in amusement.

“I am what you fear when you look behind yourself in the dark. I am why the children are afraid of the night. I haunt the weak in their loneliest hour. I sew the dreams of the brave into chilling horror. I am the engine of fear, and the devourer of hope.”

For the first time, the mare showed emotion. She laughed.

“My name is Nightmare Moon.”

Celestia sprung into the sky. Her wings spread wide, and her eyes glowed. A glimmer of light broke the darkness behind the mare atop the hill. Nightmare Moon, in turn, cast a spell of her own. The dawning Sun first froze in the sky, then began its descent behind the horizon. As the Sun fell, so did Celestia plummet to the ground.

Nightmare Moon smiled. “The night will last forever.”

At once, the scenery began shifting before my eyes, too fast to comprehend it all. I saw images, demonstrations of horror, all of which were etched into the memory of Princess Luna, and now mine.

A vampire sucked a mare dry.

A werewolf tore a family apart.

An amorphous behemoth—a moving mountain—consumed a town in one single foul gulp.

Night Guards impaled their Royal Guard brethren on their spears and waved the heads in the air to greet a returning Celestia.

And all along, emanating from every wound, echoing in every scene, corrupting every cry for help, I heard the perverse laughter of Nightmare Moon.

The thunder of her hooves crushed dreams into nightmares, and ground hopes into sorrow.

Celestia watched; she watched for as long as she could. She tried to reason with her sister, but the Longest Night never ended.

When Celestia could watch no longer, and words finally failed her, she made a grave decision.

Nightmare Moon was in the sky, revelling in the end of her world. The air was as cold as her heart. She liked it. Then Celestia appeared. She didn't rally an army. She was alone in facing her. Nightmare Moon could only laugh.

Then Celestia got closer, and I saw that her eyes were closed. Six lights swirled around her. In the distance, behind the flying white figure, a ray of light spread across the horizon once again. Celestia's closed eyes were glowing aflame.

And I saw Celestia as I had never seen her before. Blinding. Burning. Furious. Unfettered. There, in an instant, I understood why Luna was so terrified of the prospect of Cadence treading the same path. I understood why Luna would do anything to save her from having to face the same power.

I did not accept that Luna's decision to hide Cadence's crimes was justifiable. I could not accept that Cadence was without guilt. I would sooner die than condone the murder of innocents. Yet in that moment, I understood.

If the memory of That Fateful Day burns as bright in Luna's mind as it burned my own eyes, I can only pray to the powers that be that they will help her forget it.

And Celestia opened her eyes.

I was lying on a cold floor. Somewhere nearby, a mare was humming a slow song. I didn't have the strength to get up.

“Hush now, quiet now,” the mare sang softly, “it's time to lay your sleepy head.”

The melody was soothing.

“Hush now, quiet now, it's time to go to bed.”

I got onto my hooves and looked around. I was in a small island of light amidst total blackness. Before me, the light illuminated a few standing metal bars that looked like those of a prison cell. The singing was emanating from within.

I heard the sound of hooves moving on hard floor. A shadowed figure appeared within the cell, and sat down quietly by the bars, looking at me. Although very little light reached inside, the mare had enough distinctive features for me to recognise.

“Greetings, Twilight Sparkle,” Nightmare Moon said. “It's been a long time, hasn't it?”

I took a cautious step back from the bars. “This isn't a memory, then.”

She smiled. “I can see why Tia chose you. You're clever, Twilight Sparkle.”

You're a sarcastic little fiend, aren't you? “What are you doing here?”

“I've been asking myself that very same question these past few years. I was hoping you could tell me, seeing that you were the one to sentence me here.”

“You should be dead.”

“Am I not dead? What is an unused idea, if not dead?”

“Stand away,” I heard Luna say as he walked up beside me. “You should not be here, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Lulu!” Nightmare Moon smiled. “My little Lulu. Come, give nanny a hug.”

“Disgusting creature,” Luna said.

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” Nightmare Moon replied. “I remember what you remember. You made me to fill a void in your heart that you couldn't explain. I am everything you've ever wanted to be. I gave you everything you've ever wanted to have. I was your only friend.”

She looked at me for a moment. When she looked back at Luna, her voice was louder and angrier with each word.

“And then, when you found somepony else, this is how you rewarded me, you ungrateful wretch!” She stomped, and I heard the floor crack beneath her hooves, and the cracks healed the moment they appeared. “No wonder everypony hates us.”

“You are dead to me,” Luna said, “and so will you remain.”

“Ah, and that's what terrifies you the most, isn't it, Lulu?” Nightmare Moon got up and stuck her muzzle out of the cell, pressing her cheeks between two bars. Her eye twitched, and there was a sizzling noise. “You know that this is where I will be until the end of our eternal life.”

The fur on Nightmare Moon's cheeks burned away first. Then the thin layer of skin and flesh melted, revealing fanglike teeth. Luna put a hoof onto her own cheek, as if feeling the pain.

“Inside your head,” Nightmare Moon whispered.

Luna's horn glowed, and the prison disappeared.

I found myself in a large, long chamber. Enormous windows bathed everything in shining light. A red carpet ran the length of the room, and led to an ornate throne that sat high atop a set of stairs. On that throne, Cadence lay, slumped limp.

Luna was beside me. “I don't know what you've seen, Twilight, but it changes nothing. What I was, what I did, none of that matters. You have to understand. We need to help Cadence. She doesn't know what she's doing. She can't control it.”

Can't she? I wondered. Luna's memories served only to mystify the matter further. Is the Cadence I know a hapless victim, or a willing participant?

We began walking to the throne.

“Luna,” I asked, “what do you propose that we do?”

“We have to save Cadence.”

“From what exactly? I'm sorry to say, but for all the things I've paid witness to tonight, I'm still at a loss as to what's going on.”

“The other Cadence is to her what Nightmare Moon was to me. The malignant influence must be purged.”

“The Elements of Harmony can do that.”

Luna stopped. “Can they? Have they? No, child. Don't you know what they did to me? Have you forgotten about Discord?” I saw her gulp. “I will never let Cadence suffer. She doesn't deserve it.”

“No matter how you slice it, there's blood on her hooves.”

“As there is on mine.”

I looked up at the throne. Cadence's sleep was undisturbed by our conversation. Peaceful as she was, it was indeed hard to imagine that she was the monster the other Cadence claimed her to be. Luna resumed walking.

“You can control dreams,” I said. “You can erase memories. Erase the other Cadence.”

“I tried,” she replied. “But I can't do it. She's too ingrained.”

As we reached the stairs, Luna put a hoof before me and I stopped. She pointed up at the throne. At its base, I saw the twisting roots of a tree sprouting from the ground. They were withered and dwindling, yet they climbed the throne, wilfully clinging to its side.

“Every thought, every last flicker of Cadence's imagination is corrupted. Overgrown.”

“Was it like this for you? With your... nanny?”

Luna sighed. “I invited Nightmare Moon into my heart at a young age. I nurtured her at first, and as I grew up, she nurtured me. She was kind in a harsh world. And in time, I became dependent on her. I craved her appreciation. And then it was too late. She blurred my mind, choking me until I was lost to the darkness. When I realised what Cadence was going through, four years ago, I vowed not to let that happen to her.”

“But you've failed.”

“I'd like to think that the reason Cadence is still with us today is my intervention. I helped her hide what she's done. Over and over again.” Luna hung her head. “Yes, in the end, I have failed. I could slow it down, and at times, we thought we were making progress. But she kept slipping. She's completely out of my control now. You saw that yourself.”

“You don't have a plan, then?”

“No!” she snapped. “I don't. I've made a mistake.” She looked away, whispering to herself. “Another in a long line.”

She took a deep breath and began ascending the staircase. I walked with her. When we reached the top, Luna only stood there, silently looking at Cadence.

“I don't blame you,” I whispered. “You did what you thought was best.”

“If I could change the past,” Luna said, “I would not protect Cadence. I would tell Celestia right away.”

“What about not allowing her to suffer?”

“I tried, Twilight. I did.”

“Do you think Celestia would have us use the elements, just like that?”

“Four years of Cadence broke my faith. I cannot begin to fathom what I've done to Celestia in a thousand.”

“Consider that you're here now, Luna, and so is Cadence, thanks to you. Perhaps you've made the right decision after all.”

For a second, I thought I saw the shade of a smile appear on Luna's lips. “Perhaps,” she said.

Cadence moaned quietly. Her muscles tensed, and she slowly opened her eyes. For a second her gaze was defocused, but she soon looked us over. She threw her tired head to the side, closing her eyes again.

“Don't look at me,” she groaned.

“I'm here to help,” I said to her. “You just have to let me.”

Cadence made a disgusted expression and waved a half-limp hoof in the air dismissively. “Oh, give me a break,” she said without even looking. “It's always help this, hope that. Luna's been telling me for years, and look where it's brought us. I've lost count how many ponies have died because of me.”

Slowly, she pulled herself up in the throne.

“But it's okay!” she yelled. “It's alright!” She turned to Luna, giving a fake smile. “Because it wasn't really me, was it? It was my imaginary friend. So there's no need to take responsibility for any of it. It's how you've managed to live with yourself, isn't it, Luna?” She spat at her hoof. “Well, that attitude makes me vomit.”

“Cadence, calm down,” Luna said.

“Oh, I'm calm. Never been calmer. You see, thanks to you, I feel no more guilt.”

Her horn lit up, and a sudden gust of wind sent Luna and me tumbling down the stairs. When I looked up, Cadence was balancing on the arms of the throne, two hind legs on one arm, and front hooves on the other. She straightened her back and puffed her chest proudly, looking down at us.

“I can do whatever I want,” she proclaimed, “and I get whatever I want. Because it's not me, get it?” She laughed. “But some other, different Cadence!”

In her eyes, I saw that unnameable sinisterness again. I realised, too, that the small roots that were at the base of the throne had grown. They were now as thick as my torso and lifted the throne from the stairs, spreading in the air like petrified tentacles. Cadence put a hoof on her heart.

“And tonight is my big night,” she said. “Everypony will gather 'round, see I look lovely in my gown.”

Blue light surrounded me, and before I realised, I was floating helplessly towards Cadence.

“And they will get exactly what they asked for. I will give them a party they will never forget.”

I reached Cadence, and she pressed her cheek against mine playfully.

“Maybe tonight I'll get to have what I want as well. I will be happy again.”

She grinned and she rubbed our cheeks together. I tried pushing myself away, but her magic was too strong and held me firm. This wasn't the Cadence I knew, but something vile, something repulsive. I wanted to call her evil, but I couldn't; this mare was something different, radiating only an aura of discomfort and sickness.

“She's not yours to play with!” Luna called out to her. “She's Cadence's friend, and she's here to save her from you.”

“Oh, don't give me that,” Cadence whined.

She threw me angrily at Luna, who in turn caught me with her magic, putting me down gently. I was still disoriented for a while.

“It's exactly what I'm talking about,” Cadence said. “You disgust me.”

The stairs had been completely overgrown by the horrid roots.

Cadence sighed. “But you know what? Maybe you're right. Perhaps I'm not Cadence at all. Not any more. Maybe I should take on a new name, just like you did, Nightmare Moon.”

Thorny vines sprouted from the ceiling above Cadence, and they lashed out at her, cutting into her skin like whips. Cadence grinned; she appeared to enjoy it. The roots have by this time completely consumed the throne and everything to the bottom of the stairs. They sprouted branches, and the branches sprouted leaves, bathing the throne and stairs in a lively green.

“What's happening?” Luna asked. “What are you doing?”

“Do you have any ideas I could use, hmm?” Cadence asked back. “What should my new name be? What am I? What do I do?”

The ceiling sprouted pink flowers, and they glowed bright as they bloomed. More vines descended as well, tangling around Cadence. With each of her breaths, the vines held her tighter until she couldn't breathe.

After a while, I couldn't even see Cadence under the growth. I could, for a few more moments, still make out her vague shape in the statue of vines, but as the wild blooming continued in the room, even that was lost, turning into a shapeless green cocoon.

At once, the vines fell apart, and Cadence wasn't there. Her voice echoed in the overgrown chamber.

“I shall teach all upon this world new ways to love and hate and enjoy themselves, and when I'm done, the world will be consumed in an orgy of fire and passion.”

The flowers on the ceiling began dying one by one, dropping their pink petals to shower the green throne.

“I am the lust that deflowers the purest mind. I am the voice in your head that begs for more when there's no better. I am the blade you drive into your lover's heart once you've had enough. I am not white or black or grey, but something else. I am the crumbling of society, the end of all reason and morality.”

Although there was no wind, the raining petals began whirling around the throne. Slowly, they came together to form a defined shape. Cadence's hooves formed first, but they were cloven, split in the middle. As her legs grew, I saw that her coat was a deep, vivid pink; almost red. Her long mane flowed in the air just like Luna's or Celestia's, and its colours swirled hypnotically within. The white of her eyes turned a sickly yellow and her pupils were slit like a snake's.

She took her place upon the throne and grinned.

“My name is Decadence.”

A Grand Galloping Finale, part 1

Chapter 14:
A Grand Galloping Finale, part 1

I hissed in pain, placing my hooves on my head. I lay on the ground, rubbing my skull. Even though Cadence's room was as dark as could be, opening my eyes felt like inviting blades into my pupils. The resulting tears rolled down the sides of my head, creating two paths of wet, sticky hair.

After a while, I finally managed to massage my eyelids open. I almost fell forward standing up; it appeared my legs had a hard time remembering how to keep balance. I tried to speak, but the first few words came out only in the form of indistinct groans as my vocal chords strived to strain and loosen at the right rhythm. But at the very least—as far as I could tell—I was awake again.

“What happened?” I asked.

Luna stood tall. She appeared entirely unfazed by this sudden emergence from our collective subconscious. “The other Cadence,” she said, “Decadence, expelled us from her mind.”

I choked and coughed. “That happens?”

“It just did.” She motioned towards the bed. “She is gone. We must find her.”

“What do we do? Where could she be?”

“She kept talking about the gala. She's planning something. For her own sake—for all our sakes—I'd rather not find out what it is.” She hurried to the door and threw it open. “We must stop her.”

That suggestion I couldn't argue against. Luna swiftly left the room and I followed. The guard who had let me inside earlier was not present. Luna couldn't explain his absence, but we could both guess at a probable cause.

In the wall-embraced court of the palace, we found countless unicorns. Royal Guards, all of them, wandering about aimlessly and clumsily, their jaws hanging open and eyes twitching. A few lay on the ground, wriggling and salivating, or outright limp. The top of the wall teemed with them as well, and from their slackened postures I thought it would only be a matter of time before they began falling down.

In the air, armoured pegasi circled. Their wings spent far more time stretched and spread than actually moving, as though they were riding a draft I couldn't feel. They cluttered the sky, circling around the palace's spires at all heights, like an insect swarm protecting its hive. Luna gazed at the Moon for a moment before turning to me.

“It's just past midnight,” she said. “The gala was supposed to have started by now.” She ground her teeth nervously, taking a few deep breaths as she looked the sick guards over. Then she looked at me with a weighty stare. “Are your friends at the gala?”

“We all received invitations,” I answered. “As far as I know, they—”

“Then I shall wake Celestia. You gather your friends.” She immediately turned around and started for the palace again.

I quickly shouted after her. “Princess! Will you bring the elements?”

She stopped, but she didn't turn. “Gather your friends, Twilight Sparkle.” With that, she left.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and began exploring the city. Unlike how I had previously seen them, the streets were now completely empty. The guards were all at the palace, and the crowd of well-dressed and bad-mannered nobles seemed to have dispersed. This, I knew, could mean one of two things: either Decadence had claimed them too, or they were preparing for the start of the gala. I hastened my steps.

There, in the heart of Canterlot's uppermost district—in both class and elevation along the mountain—was the Canterlot Great Hall, where the Grand Galloping Gala officially opened each year. Cadence had been meant to do the honours at midnight; I would check there first. Being late was all the more reason for Cadence—that is, Decadence—to go there as well.

The hall's immense size rivalled that of the palace itself. I remembered the building well; its many floors and wide hallways created an awe-inspiring maze inside, while each great window that wasn't decorated with stained glass provided a magnificent view of the tranquil gardens that surrounded the complex. The great hall was able to house hundreds, if not thousands of ponies, and as such I knew that finding my friends—or Decadence—would be a challenge.

The entrance, a great double-door of gold, was wide open, and I could see many ponies both inside and out. They shot me impatient gazes, sighing and asking somepony else to hold their drinks as they checked their watches. Decadence, it seemed, had not yet arrived, and the guests were becoming agitated. I wondered whether I should be worried or relieved.

A red carpet led me up an imposing staircase. It was there, at the top, where I had spent most of my last gala, right at the side of Princess Celestia as she greeted a long line of guests. There was no line now; the guests were scattered, pacing up and down, walking and pushing on the stairs as they saw fit. Ascending the staircase, I heard music emanating through the hallways on the right. A great ballroom was in that direction, and I knew it was the focal point of all things during the gala.

As I turned the corner, I heard an indignant stallion complain to his escort about a lack of a proper greeting; he wasn't surprised any more—as he put it—to find Cadence absent, but he was most outraged that even the “guards just up and left.” The news was concerning, and gave me yet another reason to hurry. Whatever Decadence was planning, I did not want to be a part of it. And—of course—as I passed, I heard a mare scoff at “that scraggy mare's callous lack of a dress.” Truly, I had failed at being a proper secret agent of the government.

The ballroom was absolutely gigantic, and echoed with music and the murmurs of a large crowd. The stage on the right was prepared, as ever, with instruments which the same old band played, although with a different cellist this time from the last.

Long tables held all kinds of drinks, exotic fruits and colourful cakes that were taller than I was. In the far end, there was a smaller podium; meant for Cadence, I imagined. A gilded statue of a winged unicorn spewed water into a decorative fountain at the other side. I couldn't spend time admiring the sights, however.

Frilly dresses and sharp suits surrounded me, and I thought I even saw a mare waddling around on two legs in a wide skirt. Amidst all this, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find my friends. The thought of outright stomping over every haughty noble was tempting; simply shouting for my friends would've made this search easier. I still hoped, however, that the night could end quietly. And how wrong I was.

Oh, please, tell me you're not separated. If you've learned anything from last time, you'll be together.

Looking to the side, I finally caught a glimpse of Pinkie's puffy tail. After some more wading through the crowd, I finally found my friends: all five of them standing by a wall, talking and laughing carelessly. Pinkie, it seemed, had just finished taking a plate of small confections from a table to the group, holding it effortlessly with her tail, the bottom of her dress thrown to the side.

Rainbow Dash noticed me first. She quickly poked the side of Rarity, who was busy with a colourful cocktail. Rarity's face turned bright, and she called my name.

“Twilight!”

She pointed, and the rest noticed as well. I couldn't help but smile. No matter the situation, even on the brim of the world's end, seeing them made me feel warm inside. I remembered how our last gala ended, after all the troubles, and I wished I could have had more moments like that in recent years. There was no time for nostalgia, however.

Pinkie jumped around me in excitement, sending the little muffins and cupcakes she held with her tail flying. “Twilight! Twilight!” she squealed.

“Well lookie there, who's arrived,” Applejack said.

“Thank goodness,” Fluttershy said.

“I told you she would show up,” Rainbow said.

“And just where did you leave your dress?” Rarity asked.

As much as I wanted to properly reunite with them, I knew I had something more important to do.

“Girls, please,” I began, but they wouldn't let me speak.

Pinkie continued hopping around, and the others kept asking questions. Where have I been? Why show up now? Did something happen? I couldn't have answered them all if I tried. Just calming them proved difficult in itself. Then something—or rather, the lack of something—grabbed my attention.

“Girls, where's Spike?” I asked.

“He didn't come,” Rainbow answered.

“Poor thing just wouldn't leave the library without you,” Rarity said.

Oh, wow, I thought. All the more reason to hate myself. Oh well; it's probably for the best.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said, “we were all so worried when you just disappeared like that.”

Pinkie wrapped her hooves around me and hugged me close. “I knew you'd be here! Nopony would miss Cadence's gala.”

“Yes, well,” I said, “about that—”

“Except Spike,” Applejack interrupted. “Rainbow, couldn't you do a quick flyby to Ponyville and tell him Twi's right here?”

“Guess I could.” Rainbow shrugged. “Somepony'd have to hold my dress for me, though.”

“Oh, trust it to me,” Rarity replied. “I will—”

“Girls!” I finally silenced them. “I'm not here to party. There is something very important I need to tell you if you'd only let me!”

Their questioning looks finally allowed me to speak.

“Alright,” I began. “This will sound insane, but I'm very serious. I need all of you to take this seriously. Cadence isn't well.”

“Is she sick?” Applejack asked.

“No,” I answered. “Not like you think. She's... remember Nightmare Moon?”

Of course they remembered.

“Cadence has changed,” I said. “She's different. And I think that we might need to use the Elements of Harmony again.”

“On Cadence?” Rarity asked. “But that's—”

“Insane, right,” I finished for her. “I'm sorry, it's such a long story, and I can't tell you about it now.”

Pinkie put a hoof onto her forehead, and Fluttershy stepped closer to her to see if she was alright. I didn't pay much attention, as I had more to say.

“What you need to know,” I continued, “is that Princess Celestia and Luna will be here soon. This gala won't be what any of us signed up for.”

“So that's why Cadence is so late,” Applejack said. “I knew something bad must've happened. Where is she?”

“I don't know. I thought she would be here, but I'm afraid we'll need to find her ourselves.”

“I don't feel so good,” Pinkie muttered, putting a hoof before her mouth. “I'm gonna be sick.”

“Oh, great,” Rainbow said. “If Twilight's right, this really isn't the time.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “All that jumping around with a full stomach.”

“No, it's not like that,” Pinkie said. Her whole body shivered and her legs shook. “I don't know what's going on.”

“Oh my,” Rarity said. “We'd better take you outside.”

Applejack nodded. “Yes, get some fresh air. There's a door to the gardens—”

“Hold on,” I said, putting up a hoof. “Listen.”

The music had stopped, and the ballroom was getting quieter. The ambient murmuring was fading away.

I turned. Then, as my gaze was pulled upwards, my blood froze in my veins.

At the doorstep of the ballroom stood Decadence, monstrous, like I had seen in the dream. Only now did I notice how tall she was, surpassing even Celestia in sheer height. She held her chin high and wore a condescending, borderline disgusted expression as she looked the stunned crowd over. From behind her, Shining Armor stepped up, wearing his suit of armour and spear strapped to his side. His gaze, too, was vacant, just like every other guard I had seen since waking.

Decadence wore a long white dress like that of a bride's, dragging the bottom along the floor. Dirtied red stains ate into it at places, and I didn't want to know what their origin was. Yet even with her tarnished dress, and for her malformed looks, what terrified me most was the tiara she had on her head, for I recognised the starlike symbol on its crest.

She was wearing the Element of Magic. Around her neck, I saw the Element of Kindness, and on her front legs she wore the rest, two elements on each, strapped tightly to serve as bracelets.

And this whole thing just got a lot more complicated.

When Decadence was sure that all eyes were on her, she lowered her chin a little and grinned.

“Good evening, fillies and gentlecolts. I will be your host for this year's Grand Galloping Gala.”

Slowly, she began walking forward. The crowd, in silent shock, stood aside to make way. Shining Armor followed his mistress without a word. Behind the two of them, I saw worried looks peeking into the room from the hallways.

“I do so apologise for being late,” Decadence continued. “We ran into some unexpected difficulties behind the scenes. But fear not, my children, for from now on everything will be just right.”

Murmurs passed through the room. Ponies turned to their companions, passing questioning gazes and fearful whispers. Behind me, Pinkie wasn't even looking. She swayed left to right; Fluttershy was just quick enough to catch her before she fell. Not that her quaking legs provided stable support.

While the eyes of Rainbow Dash and Applejack were fixed on the deformed princess, Rarity looked at me. I couldn't decide whether her eyes held more questions or accusations.

“Yuck!” came the disgusted voice of Decadence. As I turned, so did everypony else, and the ballroom fell silent again.

Beside Decadence, a small plate floated with a slice of cake of which a sizeable part had apparently been bitten off. She spat, revealing to us the slice's missing half; the spongy lump of cream and half-chewed pastry splashed onto the ground. Decadence slurped her excess saliva and brushed the sticking morsels and stringy frosting from her mouth. She licked her teeth a few times, and then spat again.

The audience of her performance showed no little revulsion at the act. Although none seemed brave enough to confront the princess, heads were shaken, hooves were lifted to cover mouths or eyes, and rude things were mumbled under many noses.

“Yuck!” Decadence repeated. She took a moment to compose herself, taking one last look at the floating plate. Then she turned away, lifting her chin again. “Oh, I am so sorry. I told the servants to prepare something edible, not this garbage.” She let out a tired sigh, and with a shrug, the plate was flung back into the crowd behind her. “No matter,” she said to the sound of breaking porcelain. “I can do better.”

“This is an outrage!” yelled a stallion somewhere near the impact.

First, a wave of frightened gasps swept across the ballroom. Then everypony fell dead silent. All inside, save for Shining Armor and Decadence, were looking at the brave—or foolish—stallion. Next to him, above the shards of the broken plate, stood a mare with a cake-stained dress and shoulders pulled high. She shook her head slightly, hoping perhaps that we wouldn't see, but, of course, we could.

The stallion stepped forward and looked through the crowd. His expression was one of conviction, but as he returned his gaze towards Decadence, I saw him gulp.

Shining Armor turned before Decadence. His armour rattled as he made a single step in the stallion's direction. His horn glowed, and the spear by his side was lifted just a little, not enough to be dangerous, but enough to be threatening.

Decadence took no step; she only turned her head towards the stallion, showing a graceful smile. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I did not catch that.”

The stallion opened his mouth. He closed it. Then he opened it again, taking a deep breath.

“No,” said the mare, stepping in front of him. “I-it's nothing.” She put a hoof on his cheek, turning his aside. “He's just, he's... it's nothing, really, please, carry on, I'm so sorry—”

Decadence turned forward again, and resumed walking. Shining Armor spent another moment looking at the stallion, then followed the princess.

“As I said,” Decadence spoke as she walked, “I can do better.”

Her horn lit up, the floor rumbled, and somepony screamed. Trees burst violently from below the tables, knocking them aside, sending everything falling down. Glasses shattered, confections skidded and smashed and fruits rolled about. The trees grew thick as they reached the ceiling, sprouting leaves and flowers, and soon oversized cherries hung from every low-hanging branch.

After a while, the rumbling stopped, and the guests settled.

“Don't worry,” Decadence said with a toothy smirk. “They don't bite.”

“Don't go near the trees,” I whispered. Not that my friends needed to be told that.

As Decadence walked to the podium at the other end of the room, my friends and I moved forward as well. I urged them to stay behind the crowd so as not to call attention to ourselves.

Celestia and Luna will realise that the elements are gone, and they'll be here. We just have to hold out, and not lose her.

Decadence reached the podium, stepping up to face the crowd. Shining Armor stopped shortly before it, also turning towards the rest of us. She cleared her throat.

“Now,” she began, “I am certain that... some of you may have a few questions.” She sent a quick glance at the mare with the dirty dress. “Such questions as, what happened to Princess Cadence? Why does she look so strange? What's with all the trees?”

There was some murmuring in the crowd.

“Allow me to answer those questions with a question of my own. Who cares? You've all come here to have a party, and a party I shall give to you. So go on! Talk, eat, laugh, dance!”

The earth shook heavily, and the sounds of stone crumbling and falling echoed throughout the halls.

“Enjoy yourselves!”

The building was shaking. At first, I was afraid. Then, like water through cracks, something began seeping into my mind.

My mind was a swamp, choked by foul air and unbridled thoughts that fed on the rot. I wasn't afraid any more. I was happy.

I looked around and saw a kind of wonder I had never witnessed before. The colours of the ballroom amazed me and I turned in awe to look at it all. The vivid reds of hanging drapes danced with the bright lights, the stained glass windows bathed the entire room in majestic shapes of colour and they consumed me.

The music was gone and was not gone; I could hear it but I couldn't understand it. The tunes and tones were skewed and deep booms shook my chest while high notes pierced my ears. It was something celestial; something infernal. I loved it.

The nobles sang and danced and drank and pranced, and I found myself joining them. I lost sight of my friends and I didn't care. Under my hooves, on each side, there were shoulders and I stroked the sprouting necks. Somepony hugged my hips.

I waved with the organic mass, dancing around a stallion who was lying on the floor, frolicking in trampled blood and pink petals. The individual shapes I had been so fascinated by disappeared now, blending together into one nauseatingly beautiful cavalcade.

I caught a glimpse of a mare stumbling away, and when she fell, a stallion caught her. He lay her in his lap and poured fine wine from his mouth into hers before moving on to doing something more.

Amidst the cacophony of rapturous singing and lecherous moans, I felt one with the city. The great spires floated through the aether on spectral winds, and my mind and soul followed them. In this limbo, time had no meaning. I didn't want it to.

In a minute or after an hour, I felt a pull at my shoulder and it broke me from the great waltz. I turned to see a gorgeous mare looking at me. My immediate instinct was to pull away, shy as I was, but her warm smile calmed me. She pushed me to the ground, onto my back, and stood over me and she told me she loved me. Our bodies didn't touch and the distance only made me want to be closer to her. I heard her heart beat swift and it beat in perfect unison with mine. She leaned in close and I enjoyed being desired.

Our cheeks brushed together as she slid her lips onto my neck. She slipped a hoof under my back and pulled me close, and I sweated as I breathed heavily into her mane. The way her playful tongue tickled my neck enticed me, and I embraced her in turn. Her kiss was warm and it burned through my veins to the thinnest capillary.

The glowing colours turned grey and the discordant tunes found harmony in silence. I wanted to talk to her, but my voice was dead. I wanted to hold on to her, but my limbs were numb. A smile was the last thing I gave the world before the darkness tore me away from it.

I awoke, once again, to a splitting headache. The muffled sound of beating music entered my ears. A pair of dark-magenta irises greeted my opening eyes.

“Bet she liked it,” said their owner.

“That makes one of us,” responded an irritated mare.

“Bad blood?”

“Positively vile. Which is exactly the reason I hoped liberating it from her would help.”

My eyelids fell.

“Well, we're gonna find out. Think she's waking up. Actually, I'm surprised you could keep the blood down.”

“I couldn't.”

“Oh.”

After a slap on my cheek, a pair of hooves yanked my lids up again. The same pair of magenta eyes pressed even closer.

“Snap out of it,” she said. “You're Twilight Sparkle. Twi-light. Spar-kuhl. Vampire hunter extraordinaire, twice-saviour of Equestria, and a major pain in my ass. But you're not some sex-crazed junkie. Got it?”

I coughed in her face. She didn't flinch.

“Be glad I lost my sense of smell like ten years ago,” she said.

“Oh,” I sighed, half-conscious, “shut up, Vinyl.”

I pushed her away, and—stumbling on trembling legs—stood up. My headache was killing me. It was difficult to think. There was a familiar chair, a dressing table with a mirror, plus two ponies I knew to be indigenous to the Mental Ward.

“Good to see you awake,” Octavia said. “I was beginning to fear I may have overdone it.”

I shot her a confused stare.

“You haven't jumped me yet,” she continued, “which leads me to believe you're reasonably well. Don't worry, I clean my teeth regularly.”

It was unusually dark in the room; I remembered that street lighting always crept its way inside. I found the window barricaded with the cannibalised remains of what seemed to have been a barstool or two.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You popped Tavi's feeding cherry,” Vinyl said. “Oh, and the world's ending. Tavi says you might know the details. For some reason, I totally believe her.”

“There's no need to be snide,” Octavia said. “As a matter of fact, Miss Vinyl, you're taking present events nowhere near seriously enough.”

“Oh, I'm serious. Dead serious. Too bad that we're only gonna be dead soon.”

“I'm more than willing to place my trust in Miss Twilight's abilities to handle the matter.”

“So take her and get out, if you love her so much. Your pwecious sire will just have to get off his lazy ass and do something himself for once, 'cause I'm done foalsitting her for him. You hear me? Done.”

“I would watch my mouth, speaking such words, if I were you.”

“Threats, Tavi? Oh, you've been a good little student.”

“It's nopony's fault that it's the only thing you respond to.”

“Alright then, go all lupine on me, tear me apart! At least you'll make it quick. Remember the hall? I'm not ending like that.”

“What happened?!” I yelled, interrupting their obnoxious bickering.

“Tsk,” Vinyl spat, walking to the chair in the corner. She threw herself down theatrically—so that I knew exactly how pissed off she was—then, crossing her hooves, nodded towards Octavia.

“We don't know,” Octavia said. “I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”

As I slowly regained my senses, my mind struggled to reel in memories of the night. I recalled our visit to Containment, and my subsequent submerging in the joint subconscious of the two princesses and mine. Then there was the gala, and Decadence, and what she did. I lost control, and then I was here. Of course they didn't know what happened; nopony did. I'd have to phrase my question differently.

“I see you've boarded the window,” I said. “What's happening out there?”

“The city's in ruins,” Octavia said. “We were at the gala, Miss Vinyl and I. Unwinding a little, after our little trip to Containment.”

“Told you they wouldn't recognise you,” Vinyl cut in.

“You did,” Octavia said. “You know I hate it when you're right.” She turned back to me. “At any rate, I couldn't help but notice that Princess Cadence was a little late. When she appeared, well....”

“End times, Tavi,” Vinyl mumbled, not even looking at us. “End times, I'm tellin' you.”

“The earth shook, then came the screams and the trees, and then everypony's gone mad. Save for the two of us. I imagine that has to do with our... peculiarity.”

“Pfeh,” Vinyl spat. “That's one way to put it. So anyway, told her we probably should just go. But Tavi? She's not big on this whole self-preservation stuff.”

“I urged Miss Vinyl to accompany me as I looked for you. After Luna took you away, I wasn't certain I would find you. Fortunately, I did.”

“And it's like,” Vinyl said, “like, Tavi's also got faulty memory or something. What she did just now. Like, Tavi, did you forget the bloody hall?” She turned to me. “And that's not a turn of phrase here, I really mean it.”

“We did witness some rather disturbing sights.”

“He had no bones. His heart was throbbing in her eye socket! So, I'm sorry, I bugged right out of there.” Vinyl looked at the floor, grumbling. “Call me a coward. Jerk.”

“It took me a while,” Octavia said, “but I found you in the ballroom. I took the liberty of, well, retrieving you.”

“Yeah, and for what?” Vinyl asked. “I got back before you did, and what'd I find? Everypony's totally crazy. Possessed, more like. Like, they're out on the dance floor, just doing it. I mean, don't mean to brag, but I've seen things in the Mental Ward. But nothing like this. You hear that?”

Although we were separated from the club's main room by multiple walls, I still heard the distinct boom of the bass being dropped.

“I had to turn the music up just 'cause of the sounds they make. Don't even get me started on what's going on outside. Whole city's crazy.”

“And now,” Octavia said, “since you're here, and of reasonable sanity, I'm hoping you can tell us what's really happening. You clearly know something about the bad blood that we don't, and that is clearly connected to whatever's going on now.”

If Vinyl's ravings were to be believed, then spoiling a few vampires' meals was the least of our concerns. And for all my adventures, I still had no real grasp on what was happening; Decadence was anything but predictable. To think that Octavia risked her life just to get me out of there.

“I'm glad you have faith in me,” I said, “and I'll take that fact as a compliment. But I'm afraid I'll have to be a sore disappointment. I know no more than you do. Something happened to Cadence, and now... well, you've seen it.”

“Damn it!” Vinyl snapped. “Talk about nonchalant looks and who-me? faces! Don't give me that. Just tell us what you really know, seriously. Actually, no, tell her what you know. She's the one obsessed with you. I don't even care at this point.”

The metaphorical gears turned in my head, grinding to come up with a plan that would somehow fix whatever went wrong. But I wasn't a fighter of crazed goddesses. There was only one thing I could think of, and that was exactly what I had been doing before Decadence crashed the gala so spectacularly.

“Where are my friends?” I asked. Seeing the questioning looks I received in return, I specified. “The other elements. The Elements of Harmony. Nightmare Moon, Discord—”

“Yes, I understand,” Octavia said. “But I don't know. I wouldn't recognise them. It's lucky I found you amidst the chaos.”

“They were right with me, in the ballroom. We have to get them. And the princesses. Luna, and Celestia. Have you seen them?”

“Only Cadence. Or whatever she's become.”

This was a trap, if I'd ever seen one; yet I found myself unable to resist walking into it. I had to save my friends.

I lifted a hoof to step for the door, but my leg felt as though it were lead. I almost fell over.

“Careful,” Octavia said. “You've lost a great deal of blood. I apologise.”

I put a hoof onto my dizzy head. When Octavia reminded me of the vampiric kiss, I found myself longing again for the madness. An infatuation burned within me, I realised, and it compelled me to do things I'd rather not mention now. My body was merely too tired to act on its instinctual impulses, and rational thought was able to come out on top.

“At least,” I said, “you got me out of that... that haze. I don't know how long it's going to last, though. We need to get moving.”

“Moving where?”

“To the hall. To get my friends. We need them.”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Vinyl gaped, “I'm not leaving this room. Definitely not going back there. You two do whatever you want, but I'm staying.”

“Miss Vinyl,” Octavia began, “I must insist—”

“Look,” I interrupted, “she can stay, for all I care. Actually, Octavia, you can stay too, if you want. I need my friends, and I'm going, with company or otherwise. If you could sneak out, maybe I can sneak in.”

I opened the door and left the room, entering the backstage of the club. After no more than a few steps, Octavia hurried to join me. Vinyl Scratch wasn't to be seen.

“Think she'll be safe in there?” I asked.

“No,” Octavia replied.

As we neared the door leading to the dance floor, the sound of pre-recorded music became louder with every step. After opening the door, however, what I heard was nowhere near as terrible as what I saw. And oh, the smell!

The carefully cultivated nobles of Canterlot had retained a hint of tact, even in their magic-driven desire for pleasure. The same didn't apply to the youth who frequented Vinyl's club; as she herself had put it, they were doing exactly what they liked best. In their atavistic regression to the forgotten times of oestrus cycles, they happily skipped over the usual ritual of first buying a drink and asking for a dance.

I turned towards Octavia. Speaking would have been futile, what with the music threatening to burst one's eardrums. I pointed towards the bar, and resorted to mouthing to help get my message across. “I need a drink.”

Not that I wanted to tempt the effects of alcohol on my current condition. The water they had, dirty as it was, helped me clear my head a little. Having my blood drained may have saved me from the haze, but it was no recipe for a long and healthy life. Don't want to pass out again due to dehydration now, do I?

As I lapped the water straight from the tap, I pondered the nature of Decadence's spell. Indeed, when I paid attention to the air, I could feel the aching aura of a broken heart. If I listened just right, even the water from the tap lost its vague metallic taste; it was replaced by that of impotent anger, long bottled up. It bled into the water and it pervaded the air and it flooded the streets.

Decadence's maddening aura drove all who lived to play out their most basic, carnal desires; no wonder that the vampires were unaffected, for they had none.

I wiped my mouth. A lone mare had apparently came up to me while I was drinking, and when her yellow eyes met mine, her twitching lips formed a grin. She said something I couldn't hear over the music. Octavia prodded my side, then pointed at the dance floor. Everypony there had apparently stopped mid-act and looked at me, mouthing something together.

“I can see you,” I heard Decadence whisper. Her voice was softer than Cadence's ever had been. It came from inside my head, and it provoked a kind of deep-seated fear I'd never felt before, or since.

I shoved the entranced mare out of the way and hopped over the counter, rushing for the door. Octavia barely made it out before I slammed it shut. I leaned on it with all my strength. I expected, in my fit of panic, that the ponies inside would come banging after us. They didn't.

For a while, I heard nothing but my own heartbeat and a ringing in my ear.

“Miss Twilight, please,” Octavia said, “calm down.”

“What?” The apparent fear in my own voice surprised me. Once her words reached my mind, and I took a few deep breaths, things began falling back into place. I shook my head clear.

“What happened in there?” Octavia asked.

“Decadence knows where I am,” I said, taking a cautious step from the door. “She's looking for me.”

“Who is?”

“Decadence, she's...” Oh stars. “It's Cadence, or used to be. Nightmare Moon, Luna, Decadence, Cadence.”

“I'm not quite sure I understand, but I assume it's best we hurry.” She turned forward and took a few steps. “Come on.”

I turned to follow her, only to be frozen in place again in awe and terror. In my fright, I hadn't even noticed it before, but now I beheld it in all its morbid glory: Decadence's Canterlot.

The magical lights of the spires in which the city basked every night were gone. From dim lampposts, candles lit the roads broken up by thick, dry roots. Where bricks or concrete didn't cover the earth, there was a dense blanket of grass and flowers, at times rivalling myself in height, creating a dancing jungle of shadows upon broken walls.

From every building, there hung more branches and leaves. Thorny vines crawled on every surface, bursting into and from the stone. Some buildings had been completely devastated by the wild growth, replaced by rotting trees whose canopy was lost where candlelight didn't reach. What remained of them was supported by but the web of vines and branches that clung to the thinnest crack.

Normally, the twin towers of the palace—those of Luna and Celestia—would have been plain to see even through the darkest night. Now their spires were lost to the blackness in the sky. The Moon was gone, and so were the stars; a gentle rain of dried petals covered the city in their absence.

The sound of a window breaking brought my gaze to a house nearby. From within a relatively well-preserved home burst forth the trunk of a tree, shattering the glass that was in its way. From the aperture, a startled cloud of bats flew into the sky amidst wild screeches.

The tree sprouted branches, each in turn splitting to form even more. At every crack of shrivelled bark, a gooey pop accompanied the leaking of a foul-smelling yellowish substance. Fat, writhing maggots swam joyfully in the putrid pool.

“End times...” I mumbled.

“So, what is your plan?”

“My plan?” Of course. I always have one. “We're going back to the hall. We will get my friends out of there, and you are going to drain them all.”

“You are asking a vampire to feed on your friends until they pass out.”

That would be the case. And what a friend I am! “Once we have them back, we will...” I looked at the mad city before us. “We will fix this.”

I started moving. I didn't feel like talking any more.

The streets, even disregarding Decadence's odious garden, gave us nothing to look at but ruination. Walls were ploughed to the ground, windows were gone and doors were broken down. Amidst the ruins I saw drunkards stumbling and youths fighting. The sound of carelessly flung profanities combined with that of loudly churning bowels vacating in one direction or another, and I'd have been hard-pressed to find anypony not covered in bruises or drenched in some combination of bodily humours. It was often both.

The only ponies that weren't living out whatever fantasy or fetish they had kept hidden were the ones which were unable to. They lay across doorways or hung from windows and cracked walls, grunting in pain with foaming mouths or dead silent.

The scene was so elegantly choreographed; from the moment of my awakening at the Mental Ward, I was made to bear witness a horror worse than the last at each step. And I knew, deep inside, that it was no coincidence. Decadence wanted me to see this, to take it all in.

She's blaming me.

When we found our path blocked by the felled trunk of a massive tree, we left the street through a narrow alley between two houses. The street we had left was for the Canterlot middle-class—high-class by any other standard—and, while a perfect place for Vinyl's club, it was by no means the cream of the city.

Where we emerged after a few turns in small backstreets was a much more accurate representation of stereotypical Canterlot society. Or it had been, before Decadence got to work. These private mansions and personal spires had oft been the subject of my fancy during my foalhood. Oh, how I had wanted to live here. Look at it now.

Unlike the rabble we'd seen before—the spoilt children of nobles were notorious for their indecency even in their everyday lives—the ponies that filled the dilapidated buildings here enjoyed much more refined ways of savagery. They ran across the fractured streets like lovers do on flowery meadows, and they danced amorously atop crumbling balconies with no regard for the danger that the decrepit buildings posed.

A record of gentle music played from a nearby window, and Octavia turned her head its way, stopping briefly. For a second, I thought I saw a look of longing in her eyes. The moment passed, and she was on her way again. It took me a minute to remember: once, long ago, I'd heard her play that same song.

What broke this travesty of harmony was a scream not far away. Naturally, nopony but the two of us cared enough to look. An outburst of laughter followed the wail for help.

In the overgrown courtyard of what used to be a luxurious villa—its site now merely home to a gigantic, twisted tree among mouldering walls—were a number of stallions in a circle. A Royal Guard pegasus, fully armoured, overlooked the scene from the nearby perch of a vine-grown wall that stood on its own.

“No!” came the hysterical shriek of a mare inside the circle. “Stop it, please!”

The stallions, all in torn suits and tuxedos, laughed again in response. One in a top hat elbowed the side of another and the two exchanged a look like old drinking pals. The mare stumbled towards the stallion with the hat, grabbing at something in his grasp.

As the two wrestled, the other stallions cackled uncontrollably, frothing at the mouth and dropping down to bang on the ground when they ran out of air. As Octavia and I got closer, I could make out the thing for which the mare and hatted stallion struggled. It was something small. It was crying.

“No!” the mare cried. “Let him go! Let him go, Set! Let him—”

The mare broke the swaddled baby colt away from him, and the stallion fell back into the dirt. The hat rolled away, and his friends gasped; one poked the lying stallion with a hoof like a kid pokes a dead bird with a stick. As the mare backed away slowly amidst heavy breaths, the stallions exchanged confused stares. They then looked up at the guard on the perch, who in turn growled and leapt at the mare.

Her squeal was cut short as they collided. Shoving the mare to the ground, the guard bit and clasped his teeth firmly on the baby's swaddle. His prize won, the guard cackled at the defeated mare. When she tried to get up, a single kick at her stomach sent her back into the dirt. The stallions watched and laughed, one of them hard enough to rupture a capillary in his nose. The trickling blood on his muzzle did little to lessen his enjoyment. But I would.

“Ahem!”

They turned, with spastic steps and drooling mouths, and in their smiles I saw chipped teeth and hanging tongues. The guard's grin subsided the moment he turned to me. His muscles loosened, and his jaw slowly dropped, the baby slipping from his clutch. An envelope of purple magic caught the frightened colt, and he floated gently over to me. The guard's mouth hung agape.

I glanced at the mare. She was still on the ground, taking this opportunity to crawl away from the armour-clad pegasus. Comparing her terrified expression and begging words to the mad jeers of these animals, I realised that she was sane; or as sane as one could be, given the circumstances. I wondered what it was that set her apart from all the rest. Then the baby started sobbing beside me.

As quickly as the guard's grin had disappeared, it now returned. He flapped his wings even as he walked along the ground, taking long, tumbling steps. Octavia and I exchanged a look. Her shrug was all the approval I needed.

With a fast spell, my aura surrounded the guard and lifted him into the air, readying to throw him away. Then my head felt heavy, my magic faded, and I almost fell forward. Octavia barely managed to catch the falling baby. The guard crashed to the ground; his impact was not softened by the intervention of a kind mare. He threw his legs around and thrashed his wings in the dirt, as if he hadn't realised that he fell. When he did finally get up, it looked like he was pulled on strings. His grin taunted me.

“You must be weak,” Octavia said. “I'm sorry.”

Forgiven. But that was no help now. I felt as if I had just run a marathon. Lifting and manipulating an armour-clad soldier proved to be much more exhausting than handling a baby.

The guard came closer, and the stallions followed with menacing steps.

Octavia scoffed. “Here,” she said, handing the baby back to me. I took him with my hooves this time. “Try to calm the child. Covering his ears for this next part might be a good idea.”

I took a step back, nodding. “Remember that they are not themselves. Try not to cause any permanent harm.”

“Duly noted,” she said with a smile.

By when Octavia took another step, the transformation had begun. The petty nobles were quick to disperse, rushing for buildings that still had doors to shut or whatever cover they were able to find. The only one willing to put up a fight was the Royal Guard, and he wasn't at all fazed by the pony that turned wolf. I wondered whether he even saw a difference.

The same couldn't be said for the poor lady behind him. As the lupine Octavia knocked the helpless guard around, I hurried over to the mare. The moment I was close enough, she leapt at me.

“Give me my baby!”

Amidst a flurry of spastic swings, she planted her hooves on various spots on my head and chest. Before I knew it, I was already on the ground, and the colt was with her again.

I crawled away slowly, dragging myself on the ground; that was about as non-threatening as I could get, I thought. She stood above me, eyes wide in a blend of motherly fury and terrified confusion. Perhaps now's the time to start talking.

“Please,” I began, still without standing up, “calm down. I'm not here to hurt you.”

“You're not taking my baby!” she yelled, stepping backwards. “You took the rest, you're not taking mine. Ante's mine, you hear? Mine!”

Clearly, she wasn't going to stick around. But I wouldn't want her wandering the city by herself. I stood up quickly; that tensed her up enough to stop inching away. I swallowed just a little bit of blood before speaking. “Ante?” I asked. “Ante, that's his name, right?”

“Ante Up... you're not like them.”

I mustered a smile as I stepped closer. “I'm not. I'm here to help.” I extended a hoof in trust. “My name is Twilight Sparkle.”

She eyed me for a while before reluctantly touching her hoof to mine. “Upper Crust. I'm Upper Crust.” She took a quick look behind me, then another step backwards. “We need to go, that wolf....”

“No, don't worry. She's a—”

A scream echoed. I turned. Octavia clutched a red-stained leg between her fangs as the crippled guard writhed on the ground.

“...friend?” What has she done? “Octavia!”

The wolf looked at us, snapping the torn leg in half. She gave a low growl and began walking closer with the steps of a stalking predator.

“Get inside,” I whispered. “Hide.”

“But you—” Upper stammered.

I looked back at her. “Go!” I saw her start running as I turned to the wolf again.

And just in time. Octavia jumped me, jaw open, fangs ready to take my head off. I had a split second to hop backwards. Her teeth scraped my skin as they snapped shut. As momentum carried her, she slammed her head into me, sending me flying.

First, I collided with the vine-grown wall of the mansion. Second came the inevitable collision with the ground. For a crucial fraction of a moment, I was disoriented. When I finally managed to look up, I saw Octavia baring that imposing set of teeth at me again. Her legs bent and her muscles tensed. She would leap at me again, and then I would die.

I closed my eyes, and time came to a standstill. A searing heat mounted in my forehead. My skin felt to burst aflame, and then I felt trapped in ice. The frozen inferno washed over me in a heartbeat.

I gasped for air, filling my lungs with the dust that swelled inside the dark room. I'd done it: I emerged within the mansion. And I'd only lost a few hairs of my tail to the intervening wall; a better result than expected, considering my condition. I was inside a small anteroom that no doubt connected one place of extravagance with another.

Upper and her son, I couldn't see. But the building was large enough; I hoped they'd found a suitable hiding place.

Octavia's savage outburst had me puzzled. She had told me before that taking on the form of the wolf makes her feel alive. I came to realise, now, just how literally she meant that. In the wild, wolves—like all animals—spend their days doing one of three things: feeding, sleeping, or procreating. Being a vampire, Octavia was able to do only one of those things.

Which meant that Decadence's maddening aura was bad news.

Octavia's head broke through the window above me. I rolled away and hopped up to bolt for the next room. The wolf proved to be too large to easily fit through the tiny hole in the wall, giving me a few seconds. And I needed them more than I thought; it took no more than two steps for my legs to go numb. I fell at the far wall, and gathered all the strength I had left to push on.

Moving from the anteroom into a luxurious parlour, I slammed the dividing door shut. A quick glance through the room for anything moveable revealed a tall display case for trophies right beside the entrance. I apologised in advance to the awards in cricket and creative writing for what I was about to subject them to, then pushed it before the door.

From the room I saw two ways out. One led to a set of stairs, the other to a long, straight hallway with no room to manoeuvre whatsoever. The former tempted me. If Upper Crust was still inside somewhere, however, I couldn't let the unhinged Octavia roam around aimlessly; I could never completely lose her. As much as I hated the idea, I had to keep the wolf wanting my blood, not Upper's.

Rushing into the long hallway, I heard the glassy display case shatter. At the far end of the hallway, an increasingly loud, swirling sound echoed.

Within a second, Octavia was right behind me.

And then the bats arrived.

The swarm poured into the hallway like a black fog. Their clawed wings cut at me as their bodies slammed into mine. I had to close my eyes to shield them from the storm. Their high-pitched screams and cracking clicks hurt my ears. They weren't even large; if one had spread its wings out, it could've fit on my hoof. What they lacked in size, however, they made up for in number.

A furious growl sounded behind me. Octavia thrashed her paws about and slammed herself against the walls, taking bites out of the cloud of bats. They climbed onto her body, clinging onto her soft underside and thrusting their fangs and claws into her paws as they swept at the air. One bat was brazen enough to fly straight into her mouth, getting swallowed whole in turn. I thanked whatever god I had done right by that the bats ignored me.

The more the wolf fought the swarm, the more hopeless her struggle became. The mighty predator was reduced to a helpless victim writhing and whining painfully on the ground; a dog begging its owner to stop.

The bats massed on the downed Octavia. The corridor seemed to clear as they concentrated onto a single, tight spot right above her. They collided in the air, clutching their wings together and climbing on each other's backs. They seemed to be filling out a defined outline: the shape of another wolf.

Some of them became paws, others formed the leg, then the rest of him. As a last wing morphed into a fang, the wolf—larger even than Octavia—sprouted dirty white fur and stood triumphantly over its defeated prey.

He pressed a paw onto Octavia's neck, choking her terrified whining away. His eyes were fixed on hers; she turned her head, refusing to return his gaze. The white wolf leaned closer until Octavia was forced to look back at him. The white one's nose pulsed. Octavia glanced away for a second—at me—then back to her bigger kin. What greeted her were his fangs.

The white wolf made no sound as he tore at Octavia's eyes; she tried in vain to push him off. The walls were splattered with scraps of flayed skin and dislodged fragments of bones. When he finished ravaging Octavia's face, his teeth were driven deep into her skull, and Octavia protested no more.

He pulled the limp, rapidly shrinking body up, finally throwing Octavia's equine form onto the floor. Then he tilted his head curiously, turning to me and proudly straightening his back; like a pet awaiting a treat after a job well done. Only now did I notice that he was missing an ear.

Octavia's body had already healed when I looked at her again. Every muscle in her undead body twitched as they regained their forced animation. She sat up, cracked her spine and neck, and gave me a horrified expression.

She rubbed the side of her head. “What happened? I remember the guard. We were outside.”

I turned my gaze to the wolf sitting behind her. She turned around to follow it before dropping to the ground at his paws.

“Sire!” she began. “I didn't know you were here. I wasn't myself, I don't know what happened—”

The wolf put a paw on her nose. Octavia fell silent, sitting up again. A shiver ran through his body, and he, too, shrunk. The one-eared wolf's retreating white fur darkened, and a growing white mane framed the face of a one-eared stallion. A one-eared stallion I recognised.

And I couldn't help but put a hoof over my face, for it had been so obvious. Who else could've been Octavia's mysterious sire? Why had she always been so keen on helping me?

“Good evening, Miss Sparkle.”

“Hello, Omen.”

“Now,” he said, gently prodding Octavia's belly, “do you mind?”

“I'm sorry?” she asked.

Her stomach bulged. Then a claw pierced her skin, then a set of tiny fangs. By the time the bat plopped onto the ground, Octavia's flesh had already closed up. It scuttled its inelegant way towards Omen's leg, then climbed his body by his coat. Nesting itself upon the stub of Omen's missing ear, it buried its talons in it. Within a second, Omen had both his ears again.

“Wow,” Octavia said, following the little bugger with her gaze. “When can I do that?”

“In a few hundred years,” Omen replied with a smile and a pat on her head. “If you're smart.”

I took a deep breath, both to calm myself and to get the undead pair's attention. “Omen, pray tell, do you realise what's happening out there? Has the fact of the matter reached your brain at all?”

He smirked. “I believe so, yes. Messy out there, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Messy.” I inhaled deeply again. “I was just checking. You know, that constant smiling really bothers me.”

“A little adventure never hurt anypony,” Omen replied. “I'd have thought you'd be aware of that by now, considering your résumé.”

“Oh, I have quite an adventure for you, if that's what you'd like,” I said.

Omen flapped his ears. “Do tell.”

“As you may or may not be aware, the source of all this is Cadence.”

“I was not aware. What happened to her?”

“Whatever happened to Luna a thousand years ago. She calls herself Decadence now.”

“Clever.”

“Indeed, very. See, Octavia and I were just heading to the centre of this whole mess, the Canterlot Great Hall. It's where I last saw my friends. We're going to sneak in there, find my friends, then you two are going to drain them of their blood until they drop unconscious. When they wake up, we get the Elements of Harmony back, then we...” I stopped. I tried to pretend that I was out of breath. Truth is, I was merely out of ideas. “Then we... let the elements restore harmony.”

Omen looked surprised. “That is rather grim, Miss Sparkle.”

“I'm open to suggestions!” I snapped.

I stretched my neck and brushed my mane away to show Omen the mark of Octavia's bite.

“I'm having the worst night of my life, you know,” I continued. “I'm not in the mood for being judged. We need the Elements of Harmony. Oh, except Decadence was wearing them, last I'd seen. Fact of the matter is, we're doomed. But what do you expect me to do, Omen? Just roll over, and wait for Decadence to make me her plaything, like she did with everypony else?”

“So you walk right into her open hooves,” Omen said. “That sounds like suicide.”

“And maybe it's better that way! I'll find Decadence. I'll pry the elements off her with my bare hooves if I have to.” I cast my gaze down, scraping my head. “Or I'll die trying. I'd much rather be dead than see my friends under her control. You don't know what it feels like, Omen. You can't. You don't live a millennium with attitude like mine.” My voice was leaving me. “I wish Decadence killed my friends. They'd be better off dead than... than whatever she must've turned them into.”

Omen did not respond. My head was splitting with swirling thoughts of what should have been and what could have been. Of what will be. I leaned against a wall, and felt myself slowly slipping off. I didn't care. Soon, my back was brushing not against the wall but the floor. I liked the cold. I revelled in the silence.

A hoof touched my shoulder.

“Miss Twilight,” Octavia said. “What about the mare?”

The ceiling was, by and large, gone, felled by the twisting branches or torn by nobles who have had their fun inside, exposing the many-layered skeleton of the mansion. Indeed, practically anything that could have been destroyed, was; old and expensive porcelains were shattered, golden-gilded draperies shredded, and the lavish self-portraits of the self-absorbed owners desecrated by crude drawings of questionable taste. The raining pink petals had apparently been accumulating inside, too, and we kicked them up like fresh snow with every step.

Interesting. I didn't even notice these before.

The moment Octavia mentioned Upper Crust and her baby, all my worries dissipated. Or they were repressed, anyway. I had something to focus on; something that brought with itself no moral ambiguity or difficult thoughts. Find Upper Crust, and save her baby. That was the only thing on my mind.

Omen and Octavia were kind enough not to comment my, well, episode. All the better. I didn't want to discuss it. I didn't want to think about it.

Find Upper Crust, and save her baby.

And find her we did, cowering as she was under a thick root that arched above the floor. I took the place to have once been a dining room; the decorative plates on the wall—or what remained of them—spoke of both noteworthy sophistication and a complete lack of imagination. Just like home.

Upper Crust used the long table for cover, turned on its side and placed before her little nook. I saw her before she saw me; her fitful rocking back and forth as she cradled Ante gave her away. Her eyes turned to me, then at Omen, and finally at Octavia. She gasped, kicked the table away, and before I realised, she'd taken off.

“Wait!” I shouted, running after her.

“No!” she screamed. “Stay away! Get the wolf away from me!”

In her haste, she managed not to flee but to trip on a doorstep. I was there just in time to catch her. She fought to break free, but I held her firm.

“Stay calm,” I said. “She won't hurt you. She's a friend.”

“I don't care what she is! I won't be near her. She killed that guard.”

Hearing the steps of the vampires, I raised a hoof. “Stay,” I said. The steps ceased. Upper stopped struggling for the time being. “See?” I asked. “She's under control.”

“But how...” Her eyes widened; a revelation dawned. “You're Twilight Sparkle. That Twilight Sparkle!”

Ah. So the nobles of Canterlot know my name after all. A shame it took the end of the world for them to remember it. As much as I hated to toot my own horn, her realisation couldn't have come at a better time.

“Yes. That Twilight Sparkle. I work for the princesses. I am here to save you and your son. These ponies...” I nodded towards Omen and Octavia. “They are my friends. I can promise you that they will not hurt you.”

Upper's gaze darted back and forth between them for a while. She then closed her eyes, and accompanied by a sigh, nodded. “As you say. But I'd still prefer she stay away.”

“That can be arranged. But you absolutely mustn't wander off alone.”

“Alright. Just don't let anything happen to Ante.” She planted a teary kiss on her quietly sobbing baby's forehead. “Stars, he's terrified. He must be hungry, and he's so cold....”

“Please,” I interjected. “Tell us what happened. Why did they take Ante from you?”

“I... I don't know. Jet, he... oh, goodness.”

“Jet?”

“Jet Set. He is... he is my husband. He went to the gala, we go every year. I, I stayed home with Ante this time. And then, then the lights went out outside, and the trees burst from the ground, and, and I thought the house would come down. I grabbed Ante, I barely made it out. And I saw the guards, they were ransacking every home. They took the children with them. T-they just tore them from their mothers and flew off with them.” She gulped. “So I hid. Then Jet found me. And the others. He was, they were...” Tears swelled in her eyes. “And then you. What happened to him? Why is this happening?”

“We have not yet determined the cause of this phenomenon.” Stars! Do I always sound like that when I lie? “But that's why we're here, to set everything right. You will be safe. As for your husband, he is clearly not himself. We will find a way to restore him, and everypony else. He won't be harmed, I promise.”

“So...” Upper's voice cracked. I thought she would break down in tears. She didn't.

I couldn't help but look at her trembling hooves, still stubbornly holding onto her child despite fear and exhaustion. Good on her; strong mare. Stronger than I am.

“So what do we do?” she finished.

I wanted to respond, but failed. I hadn't thought that far ahead. All along my goal was to get back to the hall and find my friends. But I couldn't take Upper Crust there; I had to keep her safe.

Omen cleared his throat. “I saw Night Guards outside. They're sweeping the city, looking for survivors, like yourself. I believe they've set up camp somewhere in the Middle District.”

Although uncreative in name, the Middle District of Canterlot was exactly what it said on the tin. Taking up a relatively compact space, it was near the edge of the city, halfway up the mountain. Boasting a disproportionately high number of restaurants, museums, cinemas, and other such places, it was where the royals went if they wanted to legitimately enjoy themselves, rather than merely pretend to. It was also the place where Canterlot's low and high class alike could bond in their shared feeling of superiority to the rest of Equestria.

The Middle District also lacked residential buildings; if the entranced Royal Guards were rounding up ponies, and leaving Canterlot wasn't an option, the Middle District indeed seemed to be the best place to set up camp.

“In fact,” Omen continued, “I believe I saw a small group outside a few minutes ago. They're long gone by now, of course, if they value their lives. Conversely, the Royal Guards must be on their way here, looking for the disturbance. I suggest we get going.”

“It's settled then,” I said. “Upper Crust, we will escort you to that camp. You couldn't ask for better protection than that of the Night Guards.”

That I managed to fool the Night Guards into letting me inside their top secret facility, I decided not to mention.

Yes, the city had become a brewing pot of obscene shouts and yells and terrible smells, but that wasn't the worst of it. I cursed the genius architects of Canterlot for the unabashed display of their overflowing love for wide streets and great squares. Celestia wanted the city to look inviting rather than intimidating, so as not so scare its visitors from the farthest lands, but now this distinct openness only served to expose us.

The citizens, luckily, posed no trouble; they were all very much content to go about their own business and pay no mind to the little group skulking in the shadows. If one wanted to pick a fight in a fit of misguided rage, a single disapproving look from Omen helped them see things our way. The Royal Guard back at the mansion, on the other hoof, had proven that the guards were much less susceptible to such simple intimidation; it would be for the best, I figured, to avoid them.

We reached the Middle District without being noticed, which I considered a miracle in itself. Outside of the residential areas, the Royal Guards did indeed seem to lessen in number, as did the hazed common ponies of Canterlot. All we needed to do, now, was to find the Night Guard camp Omen spoke of.

We were, presently, in the trashed upper floor of a classy little restaurant; we narrowly escaped a stray patrol of guards on our way inside, and planned to wait and rest until they were gone. Rushing up the stairs, I had approximately ten seconds to pride myself on my quick thinking. How was I to know that we'd find two guards gluttonously ransacking the kitchen right there, right then?

One almost choked on his food when he saw us; the other had the presence of mind to spit before he lifted his spear. They stared at me with the same, deranged grin that the guard at the mansion had shown me. One of them twisted his neck towards Upper and, eyeing Ante, licked his lips. The vampires, to them, seemed non-existent.

If what happened back at the Mental Ward was any indication, Decadence could see and hear what those under her spell did. The rest of the gang would be all over us in minutes. There was no time.

With an eruption of magic that strained my mind, I flung a little round table at the guards. I considered turning around and fleeing the building; the sound of the main entrance bursting open downstairs destroyed that idea.

Being on the upper floor put us at a rather poor position. I couldn't very well tell Upper to jump out the window. The guards before us were getting up, and I heard the ground patrol approaching on the stairs.

But if you've paid any attention to my stories so far, you know that serendipity—and perhaps a certain mare—really does love me. A whistle sounded at the far end of the room. There, on an open terrace that overlooked the street, stood a friend.

“Sparky! Get over here!”

In a flash, a crib with a crying baby materialised out of thin air, just beside the guards. I wondered what Trixie's illusion really hid. Seeing the guards' reaction—jumping voraciously at it only to push themselves away with painful screams—I guessed it to be a hot oven, probably straight out of the kitchen.

With the patrol reaching the top floor, we darted for the terrace. The unexpected appearance of a sizeable table above them gave us a few seconds. A tall building loomed two or three storeys above the terrace, with a broken window just in jumping distance. I recognised the place as the Star Swirl Spectacular: an exhibition for modern and stylish architecture that doubled as a museum. On a better day, I could taste the magic from the next block over. Its namegiver would be proud. Or not.

“At the top,” Trixie said. “The garden. Get moving, I'll hold them.”

I knew the building to be a bewildering mess of angleless rooms and oddly curved pillars, complete with a properly pretentious roof garden at the top. Now, having become a tangled jungle of its own, it provided a good opportunity to disappear.

“What?!” Upper snapped. “You expect me to jump?”

Omen leaned in, and before Upper realised, he clutched Ante's swaddle between his teeth and snatched him from his mother's hooves. At the moment of Upper's first outraged cry, he jumped; not for the window, but high up, landing smack on the top of the building.

“No,” came Trixie's response.

Upper opened her mouth, then disappeared in a flash.

“No, Starbutt,” Trixie continued, “you're not getting a lift. Get jumpin'.”

Octavia dissolved into mist, and floated gently over to the other side with a gust of wind. I leapt after her; had she not caught my hoof in time, I wouldn't have made it. She pulled me inside, and we cleared the way for Trixie, who hopped in shortly.

“I know I'm amazing,” she said. “But stop staring. Upwards!”

The guards behind us, clumsy as they were, had a hard time crossing the gap between the two buildings. Still, with the assistance of wings and enough tries, I knew it'd only be a matter of time before some of them did.

Within the labyrinth of white halls and shimmering magical light, we had to rely on Trixie's guidance to keep ahead. The distorting glass panes and shiny marble tiles that covered everything were enough to disorient anypony, haze or no haze.

It didn't take long to lose sight of the guards; yet in a place such as this, that meant little. Once again I grumbled unsavoury things as regards to whoever built this place, and questioned why one should need a map to get around in a completely purposeless facility. No, stuffing it with the products of self-indulgence that they call “modern art” does not justify such a design.

There were large rooms and small rooms, and the corridors that connected them descended and ascended steeply or otherwise without a single step of stairs. Levels and halls bled into one another seamlessly, and the rapid beating of many running hooves resonated throughout.

As we came into a narrow passage with mirrors for walls, Trixie quite literally bumped into one of the guards. I decided not to question how he managed to get ahead of us.

Then a pair of black hooves burst through the glass on one side, sending the guard through the other.

“Shortcut,” Omen said.

The child wasn't with him; I was certain he'd explain in due time. He quickly led us out of the maze and to an ornate ramp that opened to the ceiling. I was almost happy to see the creeping vines that hung from above.

“Get 'em here!”

“Rainy Day, barricade the ramp!”

“And will you shut those kids up?!”

Such were our greetings upon emerging into the roof garden. The canopy was thick and one could scarcely see outside. The flooring was overgrown with some greenish, mosslike substance, and gigantic flowers towered above our heads, to say nothing of the arching trees.

Night Guards—all unicorns, by the looks of it—scurried about the roof, casting spells and exchanging short words. I saw a few of us common unicorns as well, whom I collected to be other Night Shift agents.

The building shook as a tree fell to cover the hole from which we climbed. A red-maned Night Shifter, her horn still glowing, quickly stripped the trunk of its broken twigs and branches and cast them aside.

Under a blooming bush, a dozen or so mares sat with small children of varying ages. One of them was cradling Ante; Upper Crust immediately ran to them when she saw.

Trixie turned to me, wheezing still. “So a city goes to hell, and then you show up shortly. I'm beginning to see a pattern there.”

“We fixed Horsmouth, didn't we?” I asked. “Kind of surprised to see you here.”

“But we can't blow up the mountain this time, can we? And of course I'm here. The gala's the gala after all. Bit less fun than I imagined.” She turned toward the vampires. “Introductions! Who are you two?”

“Friends,” Omen said.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “I don't know what I expected.”

“Nice names you've got there,” Trixie said. “So anyway, you sure took your sweet time getting here.”

“We didn't exactly know where we were going,” I replied. “But something tells me you know that. You've been watching, haven't you?”

“The wailing of a three-legged guard tipped us off that something might be going on. I've been following you since you left the mansion.”

“I'm sorry,” Octavia cut in. “You found an injured guard? Is he here?”

Trixie pointed to the side; the guard in question lay still under a tree, and Lyra Heartstrings sat next to her. Her red-stained lab coat was wrapped tightly around the stub of the guard's missing leg. Octavia hurried over without another word.

“You're welcome,” Trixie grumbled.

“We could've used the help,” I said.

“No, in fact, you couldn't have. You did just fine without me. Getting closer to you would've been more risky than it was worth. Shame you had to screw up at the finish line.”

A new, thoroughly displeased voice sounded nearby. “Omen!” Skyglow, the Night Unicorn I'd had the pleasure of meeting down in Containment, trampled closer. “And you, Sparkle! Do you have any idea what you've done? You've led them right to us.”

“Wait,” Trixie cut in. “You know this guy?”

Skyglow sighed. “Omen's only the oldest fiend in existence. Of course I know him. I never cared for what kind of monster he is, but I do know he's nothing but trouble. Whenever he shows his face, problems are sure to start lining up. He's completely untouchable, too, thanks to our dear Princess Luna's handy-dandy protection program. Chose his name well, I'd say.”

“Make no mistake,” Omen said, “monumental events do not follow me. You'll find it's quite the other way around. I merely tend to catch the scent earlier than others. I have nothing but the best intentions, of course. When one lives as long as I have, they're bound to make a few connections. I make it my business to know things.”

He smirked, exposing his fangs for a moment. I knew him well enough to realise that it was intentional.

“I apologise for not properly introducing myself earlier,” he continued. “I do so enjoy a little mystery.” He offered Trixie a hoof. “Although, I do not seem to recall your name.”

Trixie took his hoof. “I'm the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“Never heard of you,” Omen said with a smile.

“Right,” Skyglow said. “Now that we're all friends, how about we start preparing for when the guards start tearing this place apart.”

“Relax, Glowy,” Trixie said, not much to Skyglow's amusement. “They can barely walk and breathe at the same time. I don't think they realise what they can't see even exists. Not much danger there.”

“Excuse me for caring for these ponies! There are lives are at stake here, don't you understand that? Not ours. The lives of mothers and children. Right now, what you think is second to what's best for them. Does that concept really elude you?”

“Hey, Trixie!” came Lyra's voice. “Come over here for a minute?”

Skyglow groaned, ground her teeth, then stamped off. Trixie shrugged, and nodded for us to follow her.

“Giving you trouble?” she asked Lyra, prodding the side of the unconscious guard. “Watch out, he might dream you to death.”

“Ha-ha. Let me tell you, actually, I think he liked me. Before he passed out and all. I mean, I'm not a mother, and he touched my butt once, so go figure.”

“What did you want?” Trixie asked.

“I just wanted to ask you to get the vampire away from me.” She took a glance at Octavia, who sat beside the guard, staring at him with a dead, unblinking stare. “She gives me the creeps. Especially after what she did down in Containment.”

“Excuse me,” I interjected, “what was that about you not being a mother?”

“Well, you know,” Lyra replied, pointing at the group by the bush.

“Yes,” Trixie said, “I've been meaning to ask you about that, Sparky. See, they came this close to a total containment failure down there, so they sent somepony to fetch me to help with, pardon, containing the mess. Lucky, that, in hindsight, 'cause I wasn't here when the city got blasted.”

“Total madness down there,” Lyra cut in. “I mean, even compared to what you left behind. Everything, I mean, everything went mad. Most of the Night Guards are still down there, fighting the things.”

“And you've seen what happened to everypony in the city,” Trixie continued. “Everypony's gone insane. Everypony, save the mothers of young children, the children themselves, and those of us wearing Anti-Magic Rings.” She poked her horn.

My attention had been so preoccupied by the destruction of the city that only now did I notice. Indeed, on Trixie's horn rested a familiar horn ring, the same kind I'd seen down in Containment. Lyra wore one as well, and so did the others, Night Guards and Shifters alike. This also went to explain why there were only unicorns among them.

I assumed that the magic-oppressing aura of Containment was created by Princess Luna herself, and the rings were similarly enchanted by her. If they could hold off her magic, then resisting Decadence's haze was not out of the realm of possibility.

Decadence... the moment I thought of her, a heaviness felt to descend on my mind. I can see you. I shuddered.

“Which means,” Trixie continued, “that you and your friends here either know something we don't, or you all have a terrible secret. Including the guy.”

Octavia bared her fangs. “I found Miss Twilight in similar condition to the rest of the citizens. On a whim, I drained her blood. When she woke up, the effects of the spell seemed to have dissipated.”

“It's in the blood, you say?” Lyra asked. “That explains why this here guard became so placid before falling asleep. Lost an awful lot of blood, it's a miracle he's still alive. Hell of a drive.”

“Yeah,” Octavia said, standing up. “Excuse me.”

She turned and walked away. Omen sent us one more smile before going after her.

“I'd ask what's got into her,” Lyra said, “but I'm just glad she's gone.”

“Anyway,” Trixie said, “you let a vampire drain you? And that worked?”

“I wasn't exactly myself at the time,” I replied. “And so it would seem, yes.”

A shiver ran down my spine; Decadence's eyes were on me, I could tell.

“How delightfully convenient,” Trixie responded. “So what do you think is causing this? It's connected to the gala, that's for sure....”

But no. She can't know where I am. If she did, she would be here already. But she's looking for me now. I can't let her find me. If she did, the things she would do... shut her out! Decadence can't find me.

Decadence can't find me.

Somepony patted my shoulder. But there was nopony there.

Boop. Gotcha.

Trixie was still speaking, but her words had become too fast for me to keep up. My stomach turned. I took a deep breath. The air that filled my lungs tasted like rotten fruit. I wiped drool from my lips.

“Twilight?”

Trixie and Lyra gave me concerned looks. I couldn't tell which one of them called my name. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't. I thought I would throw up; I bent over to expel the bile, but nothing came save for heaving groans. Decadence cackled in my ear.

I looked up with a newfound strength and determination. Among the muddled outlines of ponies and vibrant colours, there was a loathsome stench I had to weed out. All I wanted was to enjoy myself, but how could I, breathing the same air as this disgusting filth?

There they were, the mothers and their children. I bolted for them, saying goodbye to the reaching Trixie with a hoof into her face. I couldn't tell why they repulsed me as they did. I had no idea why I hated them. I didn't need a reason.

Another unicorn jumped me, but I pushed him off. I was a second away from the mothers. Oh, how they gripped their children close! I would enjoy tearing them apart.

Then lightning struck my head, or at least it felt like it. I crashed head-first into the moss-grown floor. Skyglow held me down and dragged me away. I didn't care for the mothers any more. Skyglow seemed more repugnant than even them. I struggled to break from her hold. I wanted to crack her skull open and watch the blood flow. Her horn flashed, and lightning struck my head again.

My ears rang. Trixie was there again, her magic holding me down. Skyglow stood above me as well, and the two exchange shouted words. Skyglow reached for her horn, took her ring off, and placed it on mine.

I felt at peace again.

Trixie spat a reddish gob, stepping off me. “Should've seen that coming.”

“Should have,” Skyglow said, letting go as well. “Nice scare you gave us, Sparkle.”

“Sorry.” I stood up. “And thank you.”

Skyglow rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just be ready if we need you.”

“Aye.” There was no use in asking what happened; I'd already figured it out on my own. Guess being drained didn't render me immune to the haze after all. I couldn't help but sit right back down. My head was killing me.

“But you're crazy, Skyglow,” Trixie said. “Now you're gonna pop any second. We can't keep switching rings every minute.”

And the bickering of these two certainly wasn't helping. I was in no shape to force them apart, though; I settled with rubbing the base of my horn gently, waiting for the storm to blow over. I saw that a crowd had—understandably—gathered around us, thanks both to what I did and the ensuing show.

“I won't pop,” Skyglow said. She turned to the crowd. “What are you looking at? Get back to work!”

A few sighs and gulps later, the crowd dispersed; only a red-maned unicorn stepped closer. “Ma'am. Scouts just returned. They say guards are on their way here.”

She stomped a hoof. “Damn it! Right, Rainy Day, gather the fastest ponies we've got. Send them outside, draw them away, wherever, I don't care.”

Rainy Day nodded. “That means you, Trix.”

“Oh no,” Trixie said. “I'm not going anywhere. Gotta keep an eye on Skyglow here.”

“I told you,” Skyglow said, “I won't be affected. Go.”

Trixie gave Rainy Day a look of disbelief. “Really? Ma'am?” She turned back to Skyglow. “You don't give us orders. I am here to protect the children. From you, if I have to. Sure, you're a big bad bat, congrats on being Luna's favourite pet. But look at what we know. You haven't been drained by a vampire lately, have you? And you don't have a horn ring. And you can't, you know, so right now, you're an active threat.”

Skyglow raised a brow, stepping closer to lean right into Trixie's face, her slit pupils expanding innocently. “I can't what, now?”

Trixie took a step back. Skyglow took one forward. “W-well, you know, Night Guards are sterile. You can't be immune.”

“That's right. Night Guards can't have children. It stands to reason I wasn't born like this, you imbecile.”

“Y-yeah, but—”

“I never intended to tell you this, but you know what? The world's ending, and I'm really, really tired of you, so I might as well. Let me explain why I won't pop. I had a life before I volunteered. I am a mother. My daughter was playing catch with her best friend at their favourite spot, at the foot of Low Hill. Then a loose wagon came speeding down to break her legs, snap her neck and crush her head. Somepony forgot the brakes, you see.”

“Look, that's really, well—”

“And I saw the wagon's owner, at the top of the hill, standing there, looking, just... looking. And then she ran, and I couldn't catch her. I swore I would find her. I gave my life up to track her down.”

Skyglow took a step back, and looked Trixie over.

“But you've never known anything about that, have you?”

When Skyglow finished, the result was silence. Rainy Day had walked away in the meantime, so that she didn't hear the conversation in full. Or else she pretended to. Trixie stood stunned, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

“Royal Guards!” yelled somepony.

In the next moment, a pegasus crashed through the dense foliage above. He collided with a tree, then fell at a branch, coming to a momentary stop before sliding off and landing with a graceless tumble. Thorns cluttered his white coat and his hind leg bent the wrong way, yet he dragged himself along the ground, breathing through his gritted teeth. His target was the group of mothers and children, just like it had been mine a moment ago.

Skyglow's kick flipped him on his back. She then planted another hoof in the pit of his stomach, and the collision of his face and the back of her hoof knocked the guard out for good.

“Gather the civilians!” she shouted amidst the ensuing chaos. “Get them away from here!”

Night Guards and Shifters ran in all directions, their eyes on the leaves above. The darkness and the canopy made it impossible to see outside; I could only hope that it also made it impossible to see us. Trixie was still standing motionlessly, staring at where Skyglow had been at the end of her tirade.

“Trixie!” I shoved her, and she fell over without resistance. Only on the ground did she regain her senses. “Move it!”

She shook her head, stood up, and looked up as well. Presently, there were no more unwelcome visitors.

That changed when we heard the hard snapping of wood. The trunk we had used to block the ramp that led to the roof bounced into the air and broke cleanly in two. The roof shook as the halves landed; behind them stood half a dozen Royal Unicorns with glowing horns and frenzied looks.

Mothers screamed and children cried. Several Night Guards ran to stand in the arriving unicorns' way. At the same time, more pegasi fought their way through the leaves, more carefully than the first. They clung to the branches with their tails and wings, scurrying downwards more like insects than equines.

The mothers had been rounded up by now, and a few Night Shifters were pushing them in one direction or another, keeping them away from the royal horde. No use; the only way off is through the ramp and the glowing maze below it. It must be crawling with guards by now.

A pegasus leapt from above at the group. In a flash of light, Trixie appeared next to him in the air. In another, the two landed in the opposite corner of the roof.

I, personally, was forced into the role of an idle observer. My head was still heavy, and my legs were deadened after the long night. My apparent uselessness wasn't lost on our attackers, for I was ignored from the start.

I poked at the eyes of inattentive guards with little twigs I could still lift, and I may have slapped one or two, but it wasn't long before I found myself forced onto the floor by a hoof pressing on the back of my neck. My front hooves were twisted backwards—a little more and they'd have been broken—and held firmly by several guards.

The Night Unicorns used their unique magic to combat the Royals. Their eyes and horns flashed with blinding light, and their enemies fell over with foaming mouths and uncontrollably writhing spines. I recognised this technique as the Pain Whip, said to be a remnant of Luna's power and specific to her Night Guards. The spell produced no traceable symptoms, no physical trauma, for it affected the mind alone. As for what it did do, well, clue's in the name.

This is where reading about obscure magicks takes you, kids: face first in the dirt at the end of the world. Remember to eat your vegetables and hug your parents tonight.

Octavia and Omen fought, too, although not as wolves but simple ponies. Omen was significantly more successful for that reason. Octavia I understood, but I had to ponder why Omen would not take on his canine form. Perhaps the chaos of the battle would have made it hard for him to keep his mind.

The hazed Royal Guards' lack of ability was counterweighted by their sheer numbers. Indeed, our little group could not hold them for long. Casting so many spells in such a rapid succession was taxing even for the best-trained unicorns. While keeping the beasts of Containment in check every hour of every day must be no small feat, with the odds of the battle tipped against us as they were, even the Night Guards proved too weak.

Skyglow fought relentlessly, without a sign of fear. But her magic wore out with time, and soon enough she was on the floor.

One by one we were overwhelmed, held in check by the guards that just wouldn't stop coming. I wondered whether it was the entire city's worth of guard force we had to face up there. Those of us willing to fight were held down, and the helpless mothers surrounded.

The two vampires fought back to back, fending off the unceasing tide. A crazed guard—wilder even than the rest—charged at Omen with his spear thrusting forward, injuring several of his own comrades. Omen was caught unprepared, and he took the spear in his shoulder.

Seeing the opportunity, even more guards piled on him. As Omen reached with his mouth to pull the spear out, another one was driven through his neck. To the vampire, it was all the same. With a quick bite, he snapped off the handle of the spear in his shoulder as he delivered a bone-crushing kick at one of his attackers.

“Sire!” Octavia leapt to protect her maker. In the instant that the guards were distracted, Omen thanked his vampiric daughter by dissolving into mist, fleeing the battle. Before Octavia could do the same, a spear came through her side.

Like a marionette that had all its strings cut at once, Octavia collapsed. A dozen more spears punctured her body. She didn't feel any of it; she was dead the moment the first one impaled her heart.

Trixie was the last to be still moving, and she whisked from one location to another with rapid teleports to stay ahead of her countless pursuers.

A pegasus flew through the air, and either by genius intuition or dumb luck, caught Trixie as she materialised again. They fell to the floor right next to me; I saw Trixie charge yet another spell, but she was cut short by a kick in her face.

Then the roof fell quiet.

The guards did not move. They held us, but they did not hurt us. They passed around exaggerated expressions of dominance, and a croaking giggle sounded from time to time.

There was a loud snap of wood again. A tree twisted and fell off the roof. Every branch above us shuddered, their leaves rustled, and a gust of wind brought more sounds of breaking and tearing.

Flowers' petals were blown away as their stems withered. And the trees did the same, shrinking before dissolving and evaporating into foul air. Even the mossy thing that covered the floor rotted away, leaving only wet, brownish patches scattered on the bare roof.

Soon, the garden was gone; there was nothing left but maggots and dried leaves. Where the canopy had been, now flying pegasi swirled. There's no way out.

But the most frightening thing was the large figure that danced in the sky among the guards, streaking a line of falling petals and glowing in devilish, angelic light. Decadence descended onto the roof with a smile, dragging her red-strained dress along. The Elements of Harmony were still on her vile body, and as their aura wept, their wearer smiled.

“Good evening,” she said. “I was wondering where you've all been. Don't you realise there's a party going on? You really shouldn't be hiding here. Come out with me, have some fun.”

If I had been in a position to do so, I'd have spat in her face. Alas, I wasn't.

“Are you the cause of all this?” Skyglow asked. A hoof filled her mouth shortly.

“Tsk, tsk. I did not give you permission to speak.”

“May I?” I asked. Decadence glanced at me. As my teeth weren't kicked out right there and then, I took my chances and continued. “You're here for me, aren't you? You need the Elements of Harmony to ensure you won't be harmed.”

“You've always been a clever filly,” she responded. “That's what I like in you. You're not like the rest.”

She waved a hoof, and more pegasi descended. They casually walked to the mothers, reaching for their children—each no older than kindergarten age—without speaking a word.

The mares fought, of course; they tried to, anyway, for all it was worth. A few well-directed kicks and bites from the guards ended their struggles soon enough. Upper Crust was the fiercest; with three Royal Guards on her, however, even she could not resist for long.

I'll never forget her scream when Ante Up finally slipped from her grasp, just how I'll never forget the laughter of the guards that followed. My eyes locked with Upper's, for just a moment. I expected a look of contempt, but all I saw was emptiness. Decadence could not stop grinning.

One of the mares near the centre of the group—to whom the guards didn't get before dealing with a few others—simply kissed, in tears, her daughter's forehead before pushing her over to an approaching guard. Decadence squealed in delight at the sight, clapping her hooves in excitement.

“No!” I called out. “No, stop it. Please. Take me!”

“I already am, dear.”

“No, I mean...” What am I doing? “I won't resist. I'll go with you. Willingly. No need for guards and spears and—”

She flicked a hoof under my nose. “Oh, stop whining. You can wait a few minutes. Tell you what, if you're patient, I might bake you some cake.”

“By the stars, Cadence! You want me, you don't want them. Come on. Take me. Take me!”

Her smile dissolved. Before I could question it, she kicked my cheek with the back of her hoof. “Never say that name in front of me. My name is Decadence.”

She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. As her eyes opened again, her smile returned as well, and she bent down to look at me closer.

“Say, what's that?” She put the tip of her hoof on my horn ring. She flinched away as if it burned to touch. “Oh, I see, I see what it is. Luna's toy.” She looked the others over. “Take them off!” A guard reached for my ring, but Decadence pushed his hoof away. “No, not Twilight. I actually want to talk to her.”

I saw Trixie close her eyes and grit her teeth as a guard went to take her ring off. A faint light radiated from her horn; as the ring was slid onto the tip, she disappeared in a flash. I waited for the metallic clang of the ring hitting the floor. It never came.

She still has it.

Decadence looked up at the circling pegasi. “Find her! And the big guy, too!” And off they went. Decadence sighed. “At least I still have what I came for.”

The guards let me go. I wasn't given the opportunity to put my freedom to much use, however; Decadence lifted me with her spell and pulled me close, wrapping her forelegs around me.

“I'm just glad I found you,” she whispered.

“You disgust me,” I replied.

“Yeah. I feel the same.”

She looked in my eyes. First, my legs went limp. Then I went deaf. For a while, I could still see her eyes, but nothing else; then even they were engulfed by blackness.

Then I felt nothing.

Open Up, part 2

Chapter 15:
Open Up, part 2

The first thing I noticed, still in the darkness, was the pain. Not a sharp one that cuts into your flesh, but a numb, all-permeating soreness that drags you down. It marred my limp legs and pulled on my neck. It sat on my back and it buried itself in my very being. I lacked the strength to open my eyes. I felt as if my every bone had been ripped from its place and then violently stuffed back, turning me inside out and back again. For all I know, that may have been just what happened.

There was a scream of music, a shriek in my mind.

As my blurry vision cleared, I realised: Vinyl had every right to fear the Canterlot Great Hall.

Up on the stage, a rack of meat and hair slouched over a bent brass tube, its dry lips grafted onto the metal. An eye on its side stared at me. The thing expanded and drew air in through a split at the top, making a loud, wheezing sound. Then the pit closed, and the thing contracted slowly, rhythmically, blowing air through the battered tube. The false tones of the sousaphone weren't what bothered me. It was the realisation that its player used to be a person.

A pile of appendages—thickly coiled tendons, really—banged on the piano with bleeding, broken hooves at their end. The harpist was turned inside-out as well: a mass of muscles spread across the frame whose freely swaying pieces contorted to yank at the strings, skipping elegantly over the one that had apparently snapped.

All that remained of the cellist—oh, Octavia, how lucky you are—were the teeth that burst from the inside of the instrument, and a cut tail that was tied, on one end, around the nut at the top. The other end was wrapped around the bow, and the tail scraped it across the strings to produce ear-splitting screeches.

The floor rumbled with a round of applause. I found the strength to stand. Turning my back to the stage, however, I was graced with no release from Decadence's theatre of horrors.

The nobles of the ballroom, although by no means as far gone as the musicians, could also flaunt a wide range of disturbing bodily deformations. There were mouths that had sealed shut in favour of a new aperture somewhere else; I saw grotesquely swollen legs paired with sickly thin torsos; muzzles with toothy crags running down the middle; popped eyes and tongues punctured, coloured and displaced in ways I'd never imagined in my worst nightmare.

The disfigurement was as diverse as many royals there were, and they wore—even showed off—these repugnant beauty marks with pride.

With the ghastly music playing gently, hideously, in the background, the nobles had gathered in a circle to clap and whistle in delirious admiration for the couple in the centre.

For there she was, Decadence, the mare herself, dancing a wondrous waltz. Shining Armor—his form pristine and untouched by Decadence's foul magic—wore an elegant suit and the smile of true love. Apart from his amorous blinks, his eyes were never taken off his lady.

One could say that I've known my brother a long time. I was there when he married Cadence. I had never seen him as happy as I did now. His gaze bore none of the intoxicated lust and dare I say, decadence of the rest of Canterlot, but a genuine, calm and contented happiness.

Even though it were his hooves that guided Decadence's steps, I knew who really pulled the strings. Pushing a few frilly dresses and ostentatious tuxedos to the side, I stepped inside the circle. As Shining Armor spun her around, she sent me a quick smooch.

“Decadence—”

I was cut short by another wave of solid claps and excited stomps. A particularly painful screech of the cello coincided with the outburst. Decadence put her head on my brother's shoulder to wink at me.

I stomped. “What do you want?!”

Decadence's dance slowed gradually. Shining eventually let her go with a kiss. She walked over with a spring still in her step; her lovestruck swaying from side to side made me wonder whether she'd even make it without falling over. To my misfortune, she did. Decadence leaned close to me, stretching her neck and rotating her head to the side innocently.

“Why,” she began, “I just didn't want you to miss out on the party. All your friends are here, and they've missed you dearly.”

“What have you done to them?”

A grin crawled up her cheeks in response.

“Answer me.”

Decadence's ear twitched; somepony cleared their throat. On the podium where Decadence had declared the gala officially open, now stood Rarity.

“Oh look,” Decadence whispered, already on her way back to my brother. “I think she has something to say.”

“She is under your control, like everypony else. I am not interested—”

As my brother embraced Decadence again, the crowd cheered and the music resounded with loathsome wails. Decadence waved a hoof, shooing me away. It seemed I had no choice but to play her game. I pushed my way outside the circle, finding that the outer shell had broken off from Decadence's audience, turning instead their filthy, salivating gazes towards my friend on the podium. I, too, made my way over.

Rarity's beautiful white visage was stained by the darkly smudged blues and blacks of blotched make-up. Her mane, crafted with exquisite care, now hung undone at the side of her head, with only a few broken-up curls to reminisce of their former elegance. Most ominous of all was her dress; that is, somepony else's dress that hung from her body, torn and dirty.

When her eyes, turned yellow, took a glance at me, they held nothing but pity. She scanned the gathering crowd before beginning her speech.

Save for the eyes, at the very least, Decadence hadn't defiled her body. Perhaps she decided that the knowledge that she could have was enough to torment me.

“I'd like to talk about the worst kind of pony,” Rarity began. “The kind of pony everypony should know to avoid. A compulsive liar. A manipulative cheat with a silver tongue.”

She spoke fluently, convincingly, with the unmatchable tact that only she possessed. Decadence truly knew how to move her puppets.

“Her name is Twilight Sparkle, the fiend of Canterlot. She who used me. Who used all my friends. She thinks herself righteous, but she is rotten. She thinks herself better, but all she deserves is contempt.”

I couldn't bear to listen. “Stop it, Decadence!” I called out, still looking at Rarity. I tried looking away, but I only managed to step closer.

“She made me lie to everypony I knew. I was forced to even lie to myself, to keep up her façade. And for what reason? To keep her out of honesty's way, to allow her to evade responsibility for another day. To shade her words from the light of truth. Everything in the knowledge that should I fail to uphold her act, I would be punished.”

I stepped onto the podium, shaking from head to hoof. She didn't look at me once. “Rarity, please....” I put a feeble hoof on her shoulder.

“She claims what she does is for the greater good. She truly believes that her lies are justified; that the world should remain ignorant where she, O great Twilight Sparkle, knows the truth. She calls us friends. And that is the greatest lie of it all. I don't think she believes it herself.”

She slowly turned her head towards me. Her glassy eyes stared straight into me.

“This mare is a monster, and I wish one day she will realise that.”

“No!” I snapped. “It's not like that. All I ever wanted was to protect you.”

But Rarity didn't bother to respond. Looking into her vacant eyes, I had to accept that I'd fallen for Decadence's little trick. Rarity's mouth may have formed the words, but she never really said a thing.

Right?

Is this the point of it all? To show the world what it really is... and to show me that I'm no better?

Cadence had always been attuned to the feelings of other ponies. She had wanted to help them overcome their self-imposed boundaries; she wished for love to blossom where society would otherwise trample it. Decadence, now, took that idea to its extreme.

When I plunged into her mind, I felt what she did: her mind reeled with hidden desires, both her own and those of others. And here she was, now, spitting it right back in our faces.

Hypocrites, all of us.

“Only once,” Shining Armor spoke up. He, too, was on the podium, right behind me. And just like Rarity, his eyes were yellow where they should've been white. “Only once I'd like to hear you admit you've made a mistake.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“After mum and dad died, you just couldn't put it behind you.”

“Both our lives ended when they died. When Cadence murdered them. Don't try to pin that on me.”

“So you went out there, night after night, hunting the creatures of darkness. You justified it easily. You were saving Equestria. You were protecting the innocent.”

“At least I did something!” I snapped. “While you wallowed in your self-pity, in bed with the mare who did it all.”

“But that wasn't the real cause, was it?” he asked, refusing to acknowledge my words. “You told yourself it was a calling, but you couldn't explain why. Truth is, you simply enjoyed it, taking out your frustration. You liked having power. Every monster you caught and killed was payback. Payback for mother and father.”

“Shut up.” I slapped him. “Shut up!” And I slapped him again. I just wanted him to stop.

“But what about me?” he asked, unfazed. “You were all I had left. After the wedding, after mum and dad... I've lost faith in the world. You remained pure. Untainted by the rotting world. You were the last thing that kept me sane. But that was all a lie, wasn't it? My sweet little Twily was really no better than the rest. When were you going to tell me? What if you had died? You'd have left me alone, alone with all the questions. Has that never crossed your mind?”

I wouldn't listen to them any longer. I spun around to hop off the podium, only to bump into Decadence.

“So?” she asked. “Have you caught up on everything?”

I stared into her gloating, condescending grin. I thought of what she'd done to the city. I thought of my parents, and my friend, standing behind me, hanging on her every word. I remembered what I'd seen inside her mind, and the pity I felt for Cadence. A seething anger rose inside my mind.

I jumped at her. I had no plan, no concept of what would happen. Punching, kicking and biting, I reached for the golden tiara on her head.

She pushed me off effortlessly, her magic flinging me to the other end of the podium. Shining Armor and Rarity gave me disgusted looks. Decadence sprung over to me before I stood up. She then extended a helpful hoof. I didn't take her offer, standing up on my own.

We locked eyes again. Even if I knew what to say, I wouldn't have opened my mouth. Decadence deserved nothing.

“It's hard, isn't it?” she asked.

She was toying with me. There I stood before the mare who shaped—destroyed—my life, and I was powerless, weak, and alone.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked again.

I had faced many monsters. Nightmare Moon would have killed me if she had the chance. Discord wanted to change me to his liking. Chrysalis saw nothing in me but another victim to syphon dry.

Decadence had the gall to do nothing. She just wanted me to watch, and I had no choice but to play her game.

“Get me out of here,” I said. “I want to get away from them.”

Decadence's aura pinched my cheek and pulled it patronisingly. “I'm not hearing the magic word.”

I looked back at my friend and my brother. They shook their heads judgingly. Decadence raised a curious, innocent brow.

I closed my eyes. “Please, Decadence....”

“I want you to look at me,” she said.

I stared into her eyes. “Please, Decadence!”

The moment I said the word, the great doors opened at the far end of the ballroom, exposing the hallways that slithered in the maze that was the Canterlot Great Hall. Decadence stepped aside, brushing her tail under my chin.

“Go on, then,” she said.

I walked slower than I'd have liked. With everything I'd been through that night, I could barely beat the speed of a leisurely stroll, and I didn't possess half as much poise. I had to stop, halfway through the room, to catch my breath. I noticed, then, that not only was Decadence following right behind me, but so were Rarity and Shining. The first one put on an encouraging smile; you can do this, just a little more.

After a few deep breaths, I resumed my steps.

The hall was aptly named; great was about the most descriptive term one could use. Countless doors connected halls, hallways and great chambers of stained glass and diamonds.

Decadence saw to it that I had the illusion of choice; it gave her something to take away. When I approached a door she didn't want me to take, it closed just before I could reach it. I kept looking for an opportunity to break her game, but her attention never slipped.

I was in no shape to run, and in my exhaustion, I feared that teleporting would leave me a burnt, icy husk. I had to endure the shame of being followed by Decadence and her enchanted entourage; my brother, and my friend. I didn't turn my head. I didn't want to look at them. I shut the thought out; I just couldn't bear it.

But that meant paying attention to the decoration that Decadence had prepared for the hall. Rotting roots spurted from the cracked marble floor, and withered branches filled the ceiling with flowers that died only to be born again, on and on, shedding petals that covered every surface.

Filling the hallways, standing under the odd trees, were salivating nobles enjoying themselves. They held drinks, and they danced and sung moaning, wailing songs. Split skin, missing fur, distorted faces and malformed bodies surrounded me from all sides.

A few guards, here and there, watched over Decadence's cherished guests. Some leaned against walls or onto their spears, looking on with longing awe at the party around them. Others lacked that level of self-control, and had gladly joined the merriment.

A unicorn guard came around a corner, grimacing as he scratched his horn. He froze when he saw Decadence and me; his jaw was left agape. He moved his hoof, most conspicuously, from his horn down to his forehead to slackly salute the princess. Decadence patted his head as we walked past. When she turned her head, the guard sent me a cheeky wink. I gagged. All the things I've seen, and this is what does it.

But that wasn't as bad as the children. The farther we were from the ballroom, and the closer we got to whatever destination Decadence had picked for me, the more of them I saw.

Young kids ran about—their bodies mercifully unwarped—playing catch and hide and seek amidst joyful giggles. Broken windows, destroyed antique decorations and shredded paintings were their footprints. Their beaming smiles showed that they were enjoying themselves; they were liberated from the boundaries once imposed by their draconian parents, free to run loose and play as much as they liked, exactly how they liked.

But their yellow-tinted eyes told a different tale. Is this Decadence's idea of what children do?

After a few closed doors and forced turns later, finding myself several floors above the ballroom, I realised where Decadence was herding me.

Atop the hall's tallest spire, looking down at Canterlot from a height that rivalled Celestia's tower, was Solstice: the only room in the hall, so far, to have received its own name. Solstice was held in high regard both because of its elegant design and its political significance. Its walls were made of more glass than stone, and these magnificent windows bathed the room in sunlight by day, while magical lights would illuminate it during the night.

Many an important decision had been made in Solstice; it was where the city's nobles had gathered to see Celestia for untold generations. The common ponies of Equestria never cared much for that, of course, provided they even knew of the room's existence. What brought Solstice into common knowledge was its most recent event, heralded across the country as a shining example of Canterlotian benevolence. From the richest nobles to the last little farmer somewhere in the countryside, we had all waited with bated breath.

It was where a princess married one of us.

I had to wonder what Decadence had in store for me.

When my legs grew stiff and my breaths were weary, I ascended one final flight of stairs. The doors of Solstice towered before me. A pegasus and a unicorn guard—their bodies intact, minds less so—stood at each side, and it took the combined strength of the former and the magic of the latter to slowly pry the doors open.

Solstice was beautiful.

A pleasant smell filled the room. A red carpet ran from the door to the other end. Whereas Decadence's trees seemed sick before, the ones in here teemed with life. And unlike the unchecked gardens below, they were organised in a deliberate fashion, standing on each side of the carpet to line one's way through the room. Their trunks—smooth and healthy—arched away from the carpet, then back again high up to form a vague heart shape.

There at the end, where Cadence and Shining Armor once gave each other their I do, sat Princess Celestia, and before her, Luna as well. They didn't look at us when we entered.

My gaze was drawn to the left. A massive structure of twisted roots, vines and leaves covered the corner, creeping onto the wall above me and arching above the entrance to descend at the right. The tangles held all the youngest children Decadence had abducted; a gigantic cradle for her most precious.

Pinkie Pie hopped from one branch to another, inspecting her newest tiny friends, stroking their little manes and making sure that they didn't kick off their leaf-blankets. Fluttershy flew between the cradles like a hummingbird does around flowers.

Taking a jump downwards, Pinkie turned towards us.

“Hi Rarity,” she said. “Hi mummy.” She smiled at Decadence before giving me a look of distaste. “You brought this meanie?”

“Pinkie,” Fluttershy said, “you shouldn't say such things. Twilight's just confused.”

Pinkie stuck her tongue out at me before hopping up a few branches.

I turned to Decadence. “This is the exact opposite of what I asked.”

“Is it?” she asked. “We could go back down and dance the night away, if you'd like.”

“Let me just grab her!” Rainbow Dash's voice echoed. She was floating above me, front legs crossed and lips pursed. “I'll take that ring off.”

From behind a tree, Applejack stepped up. “No, Rainbow. The point is that she has to take it off herself. Ain't that right, ma'?”

Decadence pulled Applejack closer, and nuzzled her mane. “Listen to your sister, RD. You could learn a lot from her.”

That Decadence could exert such a level of control on my friends was as troubling as it was curious. What set them—and my brother—apart from all the rest? If she had the capability to so finely control her victims, she would have done so while she was hunting for me.

With my brother, I thought, it had to be the unique bond they shared. One that could not be undone.

But my friends? It was clear she was using them to hurt me, but she barely knew them.

Of course. My friends and I, we were all inexorably bound to the Elements of Harmony. Decadence, I collected, must have been using them to overpower their minds. Which meant that the only thing keeping me from the same fate was the little metal ring around my horn.

And she wanted me to take it off. So that's what this is about.

Hopeless would have been an apt description of my present predicament. Even so, figuring out Decadence's plan—or at least thinking I did—gave me some confidence. It was a pleasant feeling; the kind of thrill I used to feel when setting out on a new task at Luna's behest.

I would stop her yet.

Her goal was to psychologically bully me into giving in to her. I hardened my heart to the plight of my friends. I realised, too, that should she think it necessary—or perhaps merely funny—she would turn her wrath on them. I had to free them before it came to that.

Celestia, sitting with her sister at the far end of Solstice, was a glimmer of hope. Even Nightmare Moon had felt chilling terror at the sight of the furious Princess of the Sun. I was eager to see what she could do to Decadence.

I walked down the red carpet, eyes fixed on the princesses. Decadence soon caught up.

“You found her asleep,” I said, walking on.

Decadence nodded proudly. “Oh yes! Would've been a pain, subduing her. Tonight's my lucky night, it seems.”

You bet. “What about Luna?”

As I asked my question, I came close enough to the princesses to inspect them further. Celestia seemed physically unharmed, although her legs and neck were stiff, and her wings were clenched to her back spastically. Her gaze was fixed on her sister, but seemed to shake, breaking away for a split second—in my direction, perhaps—before being compelled back.

Even after catching her prey at her weakest, Decadence could not take away Celestia's mind completely. Instead she anchored her down, forcing her to watch Luna's personalised torture.

Luna's night-blue coat was stained by patches of black. Her gaze was unfocused. One of her eyes had Nightmare Moon's slit pupil, while the other was still her own. And crying.

“Don't mind her,” Decadence said. “I convinced an old friend to pay her a visit. Looks like they had a lot to talk about.”

I turned back to Celestia. She was the key, I knew that much. But how can I free her? I thought about the ring on my horn. It had proven its effectiveness in resisting Decadence's magic. If I could take it off, and place it on Celestia's horn in time, this nightmare might be over. If I failed, Decadence would be free to do with me as she pleased. I wondered whether Celestia was even strong enough to break out of her magical shackles, even if I gave her the ring in time.

“Don't even think about it,” Decadence said, noticing how I eyed Celestia's horn.

So the answer is yes. I turned to Decadence. “So that's the idea, then? You're just going to wait until I take my ring off?” I glanced at Rainbow Dash for a moment, who amused herself by making various faces at me behind Decadence's back. “Rainbow raised a valid point,” I continued. “You could just take the ring.”

“No,” Decadence replied. “You need to do it willingly. It's not the same otherwise.”

“Your obsessions are sickening, Decadence. Worse, they are inconsistent. It clearly didn't trouble you to subdue my friends or my brother. Or the entire city. You made mothers watch as you took their children from them. After all this, you expect me to do as you ask, willingly, happily. I'd call you insane, but you'd probably take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, look who's got her tongue back.” She shook her head. “Don't you see, Twilight? You are special. You're my little ray of sunshine. We can put all this behind ourselves. These children will grow up in a world without lies, and we can teach them to be themselves. We could be together again, as one great family.”

“And I am to become your child, like the rest? Forgive me, but I have no interest in becoming my brother's daughter.”

Decadence smiled. “Don't worry. Such inhibitions will be the first thing to go.”

“You haven't been very convincing so far.”

She shrugged. “Well, I suppose you could walk out and go back to slumming in some dark corner, shielding yourself from the new world. The world that I will rule forever.” She sighed. “Don't you get it? I'm offering a bliss you can't even imagine.”

“A tantalising offer which, I'm afraid, I have to politely decline.”

She scoffed. “You'll come around.”

“I'd rather die.”

Decadence's eye twitched. In the root-grown corner, an upset baby cried out. Her hoof came up swift, and it came up hard, kicking me up high, knocking the wind out of me. Her magic enveloped me mid-air, casting me onto the floor.

Her aura wrapped around my hind leg, and it scorched my skin like red-hot iron. She began pulling me across the room. I resisted, kicking, screaming, but the ethereal strings only cut deeper. I scraped my front hooves along the cold marble tiles.

Then I was yanked violently into the air again, and flew into one of Solstice's great windows. I felt the great pane of glass crack, but it did not shatter. I fell down again.

Decadence's slow steps echoed in the room. I started crawling away—I lacked the strength and time to get up—only to be pinned down once again by her searing spell, this time tightening around my neck.

And she twisted. My head began turning. My neck started to hurt.

“Is that what you want?!” Decadence screamed. Solstice shook with the wails of children. “I'll do it. You just need to ask. Do you think I won't? Do you believe I'd lie to you, after everything we've been through? No. I can kill you any time you wish.”

Her whole body trembled. A distorted snarl spread under her twitching eyes. She took a deep breath through her teeth. The aura that held me dissipated. Decadence sat down, hanging her head.

“Make your choice,” she whispered. “Or don't. I can wait.”

I curled up in pain, noting—being ever the optimist—that at least I could still move. Silver linings, my friends.

Friends. The ponies I used to call my friends were looking at me, albeit from a safe distance. None of them lifted a hoof to help me. If anything, they appeared concerned about their new mother. Shining Armor had rushed up to Decadence to put his hoof on her shoulder and his lips to hers. Although all that did not surprise me, given what I'd seen, it made me feel no better.

“Love,” my brother said, “are you well?”

That doesn't even remotely resemble how Shining talks. Good job, Decadence.

“Yes, yes,” she replied, still breathing heavily. “I just got a little upset. You know I do that. Just need some time.”

Shining took his hoof off her. “As you wish, love.” He was quick to step away and give her space.

Decadence looked up, flapping her ear, as though she had heard something.

“What is it?” Shining asked.

Decadence listened for a while before saying anything. “Oh...” As she turned to me, her grin returned. “Do I have a surprise for you. Oh, come on, don't be such a baby.”

Her magic pulled me up and put me on my hooves. I paid attention not to shift weight onto my injured leg.

“What might that surprise be?” I asked.

“She'll be right here in a moment.”

Indeed, not a minute passed, and the doors of Solstice swung open again, letting inside three Royal Guards, and the blue pony they brought with themselves. They dragged Trixie on the floor while she made bubbles with her mouth.

I recognised one of the guards; the unicorn in the middle—between two pegasi—was the one that had so invitingly winked at me earlier. If this is your idea of wooing me, I honestly feel sorry for you.

Decadence waved the group over, and they slid Trixie between us. She sent Decadence a smile that rivalled a baby's in sheer innocence.

But she still has her ring! Why is she acting... she's acting. Of course.

Not one of her most dignified moments, that wasn't.

“Look at that,” Decadence said, turning to the guards. “I didn't think you'd catch her this quickly. She seemed a really fickle one.”

The guards grinned.

“She was just waiting there for you, wasn't she?”

The guards nodded. They seemed so proud of themselves.

Decadence rolled her eyes. With the flick of a hoof, she picked Trixie's ring from her horn and let it roll away. Then she patted the heads of the guards, one by one.

“Good job. Now shoo, shoo.”

Trixie had a second to give me a terrified look. Then her body tensed, her pupils diluted, and the white of her eyes turned yellow. An amorous smile appeared on her face, to Decadence's satisfaction. Trixie reached up for Decadence's flowing mane to play with the strands she could grasp.

What her plan had been, I had no idea. I knew Trixie for acting thoughtlessly on occasion, but she wasn't an idiot.

The guards, in the meantime, were just leaving the room. The two pegasi, that is; the unicorn had apparently stopped halfway to the exit, and now he was standing there, staring at me.

Decadence herself either didn't notice, or didn't care. “Who's a cute little murderer?” she asked, rubbing Trixie's tummy. “You're a cute little murderer. Yes you are. Yes you are.”

The unicorn ran for Decadence. Before she could turn, he pounced at her, hooves forward, teeth out, aiming straight for her neck. As Decadence fell back, her horn lit up, her magic surrounded the attacker. The guard's hind legs rose from the floor, his body stretching, as if pulled by chains. Back at the entrance, every child cried at the top of their lungs.

I didn't wait to see how the thrilling scene ended, though. I turned my head frantically, looking for Trixie's lost ring. Its metallic glimmer was easy enough to spot; I found the ring on the red carpet. Although my magic was weak, I could still pick the tiny thing up as I started for Celestia.

There was a high-pitched groan behind me. The guard's body tore in two, hind legs flying away from Decadence. The upper half, however, still clung stubbornly to her, sinking his teeth ever deeper into her neck.

Or I should say, her teeth. Trixie, you devious mare! The spell that disguised Vinyl Scratch may have faded when Decadence broke her body, but her undead ferocity had not. Shining Armor and Rainbow Dash made it to her, and were helping to pry the vampire from Decadence. I only had a few seconds.

Limping along on three legs, I hurried towards the princesses. Limited as my magical power was, I could still put the ring on from a distance. I only needed a few more steps; the ring was already on its way to Celestia.

Then a hind hoof was planted in my face.

“That's for Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack said.

As I fell, so did the ring. Vinyl Scratch was torn from her prey. She—or what remained of her—began crawling away, but Shining Armor pinned her down. Rarity and Pinkie Pie tended to Decadence. Whilst Applejack and Rainbow Dash pulled me over to their mother, Fluttershy flew back to the cradles to calm the wailing children.

Decadence pressed her hoof onto the mark of Vinyl's bite, hissing in pain. “You. I offer you everything I have, and this is how you repay me.”

There I was again, lying helplessly on the floor before Decadence. She raised a hoof. I wondered if she might actually kill me this time.

She put her hoof down.

“Don't you see?” she asked. “Don't you understand that I love you? Why won't you let me?”

Rarity put her hooves around her and hugged her close. Pinkie Pie looked at me disapprovingly.

The room fell silent. The children had gone quiet.

The sound of steps.

Decadence looked up. An expression of horror set on her face. I turned over to see what she saw.

Celestia walked slowly, wings spread wide, horn glowing with blinding light. Her every step felt to shake the room. Behind her, Octavia stood. She had put the ring on Celestia. Decadence fell back.

Everything that followed happened in a matter of moments.

Decadence howled. “Run!”

My friends started for the door. Before it, a pillar of mist turned into a tall, dark stallion. Omen stood in their way.

Decadence got up, and ran for the vine-cradles. “Guards! Guards!”

Omen tensed and readied himself to stop the charging mare.

He didn't have to. Celestia's magic surrounded Decadence and flung her into the corner; she stopped just short of crashing into the cradles. An arc of magic appeared between Celestia's horn and Decadence's, pulsating, vibrating. Behind me, Trixie moaned and put a hoof to her forehead.

In the back, Luna's horn lit up as well. In a flash, the black in her coat disappeared, and both her eyes were her own again. Springing up, she, too, cast a spell that enveloped Decadence.

Trixie stood up beside me and extended a hoof, helping me up.

“Help me!” Decadence screamed, her horn lighting up too. “Help!”

The Elements of Harmony began unlatching themselves from her legs. The Element of Magic was lifted from her head, but her own aura pulled it back.

Shining Armor jumped into the midst of the magic, grabbing onto Decadence. He cast a spell, and they both fell down, the princesses' magic disappearing.

Shining's aura hardened, creating an all too familiar purple shell around him and his beloved. The shield quickly grew. My friends all rushed inside it as it covered the overgrown corner.

When the roar of surging magicks subsided, I could finally gather my thoughts.

Celestia and Luna stood before the shell of magic that separated them from Decadence. Inside that shell was the mare herself, my brother, my friends, and the crying children. As the rest of us gathered around the shield, my friends helped Decadence with the elements, fastening their latches and adjusting the tiara.

Outside were the two princesses, the vampires, Trixie, and of course, myself. At the back, Vinyl had crawled to reach her lower body, and she slipped it onto her torso like one does a pair of trousers. Omen and Octavia were watching the unfolding scene eagerly. Trixie was rubbing her head and horn, still reeling from the haze.

“Guards!” Decadence yelled.

“There is no help coming,” Celestia said. “It's over.”

“No,” Decadence said. “No. You won't take my children. Not again.”

“This shield will not last forever. Just let go.”

“No! This is my night. Mine alone. You're supposed to suffer, not me.”

“Nopony is supposed to suffer.”

“Oh, but I'm going to, if it's up to you. The moment you get your hooves on me. You'll punish me, like you did your own sister. All out of love, I bet. Let me tell you about love. She loved her imaginary friend more than she loved you. She is not your sister, she's your victim. And so am I.”

Celestia appeared unmoved by her words. “You cannot imagine how it hurts me to see you like this, Cadence.”

Decadence sent a gob of dried blood and spit at Celestia's face; it was allowed past the shield unaffected. “Don't say that name in front of me. And I bet you want to help. Like you helped Luna when she was a child. Like you helped me when you made it your quest to shape a proper princess out of me. The ever kind, benevolent Celestia. Tyrannical control freak, more like!”

“What I am, or what I am not, is not up to discussion. Your heart is sick, and it must be healed.”

“You know just what to say, don't you? But I see what's beneath the words. At least don't lie about what's down there. You masquerade as the wisest princess, but you know you're just a jaded old hag. Incompetent and crippled by constant indecision. You sit on your throne out of nothing but tradition. You control the lives of those around you, and when you can't, you get rid of them. A butcher of innocence, that's all you are. Remember this as you spend another millennium lonely and unloved.”

Decadence's horn lit up, and the rest of us took a step back.

“You had the courage to decide my future for me,” she continued. “To ruin my life!”

Shining's horn lit up brightly. Decadence spread her wings, and her eyes burned with yellow light.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Take my children.” She embraced Shining Armor. “You won't take him. He's mine.” She looked at me. “And you. You'll be sorry. You'll wish you had come with me. Now you'll be all alone.”

A burst of light blinded me. Solstice's every window shattered at the same moment. When I looked again, Decadence was gone, and so were my friends and my brother. As the final shards of broken glass finished their chimes, an uneasy stillness befell the room. We could only stare at the place where Decadence had been a moment ago.

Celestia sighed, and the silence was broken. She turned towards Luna. “Why aren't your Night Guards here yet?”

Luna didn't say a word. She ran for a missing window and leapt into the air, vanishing into the night. Celestia lowered her head, and sat wordlessly.

Somepony whistled just next to me. I turned to see a wide-eyed Vinyl Scratch. “You could write books about this stuff,” she said. “And by the way?” She poked my side. “We're even now. For real. No more favours. Not in the next few hundred years.” She cracked her back. “Oh, I think I'm missing a kidney. Eh. It'll grow back.”

Her casual attitude at once amazed and somehow worried me. “Vinyl,” I asked, “how ever did you even get here?”

“I wasn't going to help you, y'know. Well, not at first. I just started feeling kinda bad about letting Octavia out like that, since everything's, you know. I mean, she's just a kid.”

“Isn't she older than you?”

“What? She only died like, two weeks ago, or something. Anyway, when I saw that big commotion at the Star Swirl's, I checked it out. Guess who I met on the way.”

“Yeah,” Trixie said, a hoof still on her head. “I'm just glad it worked out.”

“Indeed,” Omen chimed in. “See, Miss Sparkle, Decadence simply left Miss Melody there, obviously not realising how easy it is to bring a vampire back to life.”

“I didn't think it was possible to fit that many spears into one pony,” Vinyl said.

I looked at Octavia; she had been awfully silent all this time.

“What?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You get used to it after a while.”

Clearly not in the mood for chit-chat. I suppose I'd be a little grumpy, too.

“We merely needed to find Celestia,” Omen continued. “I was expecting that the search would take a while, until Miss Scratch came across Decadence. And you, of course.”

“Didn't you see me?” Vinyl asked. “I winked and everything.”

I shrugged. “Must've been distracted.”

“In hindsight,” Trixie said, “we really should've checked Solstice first. It makes too much sense. Anyway, once you were in there, we couldn't just barge in. So I pretended—”

Celestia turned her head towards us. That much was enough to silence our reunion.

“Leave,” she said plainly. “Look for any guards you can find. They will be waking up now. Help them gather the children and find the parents. Go.”

None would dispute the princess. We merely exchanged a few quick looks, then got up.

“Not you, Twilight Sparkle.”

I froze. For a moment, the others did as well; their steps were even quicker afterwards. The doors of Solstice swung shut behind them soon. I was thus alone with the princess. And Decadence's children.

For a short time, Celestia wouldn't look at me. When she finally did, in her gaze I saw nothing but disappointment.

“How long have you known?” Celestia asked.

“Known what, princess?”

She said nothing.

“About... Cadence?” I asked.

She nodded lightly.

“I never... I never knew.”

“Didn't you?”

“I mean, I've had my suspicions, but I never thought—”

“How long?”

“A week, perhaps? Or two....”

She looked away. “And you didn't tell me.”

I didn't, did I? Am I to admit I was afraid of her, that she might be involved? For all my years I'd spent in Night Shift, and loud as I became with Luna, Princess Celestia's presence still turned me into a bumbling little filly. I wondered when I stopped being her student.

She turned back to me. “So, does it please you?”

“Does what please me, princess?”

She looked up, up at the tangle of vines and leaves that held foals like a spider's web does trapped flies.

“The result,” Celestia said.

“No, princess,” I replied. “It does not.”

She sighed, then and shook her head slowly. “Mistakes,” she said. “Mistakes define us. They change us, and they change those around us. We all make mistakes, Twilight. We've all made mistakes. This...” She looked, again, at the children. “This is proof of that.”

I couldn't bear her gaze. I had to turn away. Celestia stood tall and waited patiently, silently. In the end, I had to look her in the eye. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” Celestia said. “I am. I let this happen.”

“Because I didn't warn you. Princess, you can't blame yourself for what Decadence has done.”

“But I can. I am foolish like that. I am a fool, making the same mistake twice.”

“I don't understand.”

“When Luna returned—when you brought her back—I was overjoyed. I let my emotions cloud my judgement, exactly as I did a thousand years ago. She told me she would make it right; that she would undo the crimes she committed so long ago. I did not ask questions. I did not watch over her. I trusted her once before, and she betrayed me. Now I trusted her again, and she has failed me.”

“Luna is... she was convinced that there was a way to save Cadence from herself. She never meant for any of this to happen.”

“There is no reasoning with monsters, Twilight. I have tried, and I have failed.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Celestia asked. “For this time I will not have to make that choice, but you. This Decadence must be stopped. Who she once was does not matter. When the time comes—and I promise you, it will come—you will have to look her in the eye and pass judgement.”

“The Elements of Harmony will do that for me.”

“Do you doubt you have it in you?”

The utter finality with which Celestia spoke made me feel uneasy. “But Luna is here today. If you hadn't shown her understanding so long ago... if you had used the Elements of Harmony right away, that might not be the case. Could it have been your hesitance, in the end, that made her redemption possible?”

“Perhaps.”

The doors swung open again. A dozen guards rushed inside, saluting to Celestia briefly before rushing for the children to break them from their cradles.

Celestia stood up, and walked slowly, silently, to the far end of Solstice. I followed after her.

There, beyond a stone frame that used to hold a window, was a great terrace that overlooked Canterlot. Once, Cadence and Shining Armor looked out at the city from there in celebration of their marriage, and thousands upon thousands of ponies cheered for them in return.

Now the streets were filled with stumbling, confused mares and stallions that walked aimlessly between the ruins of their homes. Celestia sat down out there, taking in the sights and the cool night air.

I gulped. “Do you still believe,” I asked, “that it would have been wiser to end Nightmare Moon before you did? That giving your sister that one chance was a mistake?”

Celestia's eyes scanned the city. She looked at the putrescence of the city below, and the sick ponies that were hiding in its corpse. When she could look no longer, she lowered her head and closed her eyes. A lonely tear drop rolled down her cheek.

“Yes.”

Celestia assured me that she would scour all of Equestria to find Decadence. As it turned out, there would be no need for such an expedition. What caught the attention of the guards was the park. Unlike the rest of the city, there were no monster trees or strangling vines here, and the grass was soft as ever. Indeed, the Canterlot Park seemed entirely unaffected by Decadence's unique curse.

When I asked about the haze, the princess explained that Decadence had been using her, as well as her sister, to project the spell. Although Decadence could no longer use the minds of Celestia and Luna to amplify her own magical powers to a city-wide scale, Celestia urged me to keep my horn ring on.

I asked about my friends, and about my brother. My suspicions, it seemed, were correct; Celestia told me she could sense the Elements of Harmony protecting my friends, their powers fusing with those of the pony who wore them: Decadence. And although Shining Armor did not enjoy the elements' protection, Decadence's obsession with him was enough to hold his mind shackled.

Given enough time, Celestia said, she could scrape away the many layers of magic that bound them. Except that time was something Decadence would most certainly not give us.

So it was that we came to face her beneath the cherry tree.

She sat, twitching and mad, in her husband's embrace. She stared at the ground and I saw her mumble to herself. Her swirling mane came apart to form thinner strands before recombining again. Her stained, torn dress lay on the grass nearby.

My friends were there with them, sitting in a circle around the tree. I wondered if Decadence intended to show off her trophies—perhaps to convince herself that she was still in control—or simply didn't know where else to put them.

A significant number of the guard force had been assigned to take care of the city's inhabitants. Even so, Night Pegasi now swirled in the sky around the park while Royal Guards surrounded it on the ground step by step.

Celestia, Luna and I were in the front line; we stopped just in shouting distance. Decadence turned her head left and right, spending a split second looking at one guard here, then there. Even at a distance I saw how frantic her breathing became, and how much her legs shook. She could barely stay up. The mumbling never stopped. Shining, it appeared, was attempting to calm her, with no success.

I couldn't help but think about how unceremonious this whole affair was. Decadence wouldn't give the elements up, that much was certain. Celestia would thus take them by force. At her word, the guards would descend on Decadence like a swarm. A thought gathered at the back of my mind, one that wouldn't let me rest.

I turned towards Celestia. “What if you can't take the elements back without... without hurting her?”

Celestia did not look at me; her gaze was fixed on Decadence. “I will do what is necessary,” she replied.

I looked at my friends, and my brother, still guarding Decadence. “What if she uses them? T-to protect herself? Would you—”

“I will do what is necessary.”

And she still didn't look at me. She didn't even let me finish. She was serious. If it came to that, she would....

The delicious irony of Decadence's joke washed over me. I said the same thing myself mere hours ago: that I would rather see my friends dead than her puppets. I told her I'd rather die, too, yet when given the offer, I was afraid to take it. And now here it is, my own words, slapping me in the face.

“No,” I said. “No!” I could not contain myself. “You can't! You wouldn't. You're not going to—”

“You are not here to second guess me, Twilight!” Celestia snapped at me. “If need be, I will give the order. I've stood idly by for too long. I've watched too many atrocities happen. Not this time. Decadence will be stopped tonight, one way, or another.”

There was a fire in her gaze. The same flame that burned on That Fateful Day, the flame that sent shivering terror into the heart of fear incarnate.

I looked away first.

Luna bent down to whisper in my ear. “I'm sorry. It's not your fault.”

No. It's yours.

“Decadence,” Celestia spoke up. “We've come for the Elements of Harmony.”

Decadence fixed her twitching stare on Celestia. “Yeah?” she asked. “That's all? What are you going to do to me?”

“This ends here and now,” Celestia replied. “If you will not give up the elements, you will force my hoof. Do not make me do this.”

“Oh, but you'll do it!” she screamed. “You'll do it and we all know it! Because you're always right! You know just what's best for Equestria, don'cha?”

“I am giving you one final warning.”

“You ruined my life,” Decadence yelled. “You might as well take it!”

Celestia and Luna exchanged a look. The former tilted her head a little. The latter nodded. The guards prepared to strike.

Celestia turned back towards Decadence. “Restrain her.”

The guards descended on Decadence. My brother and my friends all stood up to defend her.

In the next minute, there was chaos. The guards did their best to get close to Decadence, but they had to do so without causing harm to her meat-shields, which only served to slow their approach.

Shining Armor created ad hoc magical shields with which to defend himself or push away the oncoming tide. Although he started the battle unarmed, it wasn't long before he disarmed a guard and took his spear, and then broke it through unrestrained use.

My friends, of course, could not put up much of a fight. The five untrained, inexperienced mares against an army of Royal Guards never stood a chance. Still, they kicked and bit as fast and as hard as they could, doing their part to keep the guards from their precious mother. The guards, in turn, shoved and threw them about, harder each time, hoping that they would stay down.

Decadence sprung into the air, and was met with the combined swarm of Royal and Night Guards. Celestia and Luna flew up as well to join the fight. The night sky burst with light as the spells of the three princesses thundered. It wasn't long before guards began falling, crushing the bones in their already wingless or legless bodies. I dreaded to imagine whose spells caused more harm.

And all along, I, crippled and weak, was forced to sit and watch.

Twirling, turning, amidst a shower of red feathers, Decadence fell from the sky. She crashed into the leaves of the cherry tree before reaching the ground limp. My five friends had already been taken and restrained; a group of guards dragged them from the tree.

At the moment of Decadence's landing, my brother's body stiffened and froze up. Within a split second, he, too, was overwhelmed and pinned to the floor. He offered no resistance.

Celestia and Luna alighted under the tree as well.

Decadence coughed. I saw her say something, but the distance and the rattling of the guards' armour made it impossible for me to hear. Without even lifting her head from the ground, she dragged a hoof forward, extending it towards Shining. As the guards dragged him away, he returned the gesture, staring at his wife and extending his hoof.

Then Decadence looked at me. Her eyes lit up. So did those of my friends, pinned down not far from her. Before Celestia and Luna reached her, the Elements of Harmony, still on her, began glowing. Their auras cried.

The ring around my horn grew warmer.

I need you.

I felt as if somepony kicked the back of my head with full force. The ring around my horn was melting hot. I could make no sound.

Let me in.

She whipped my spine. She pulled out my teeth. She stabbed my heart. She drilled into my very soul, drilling into my very being.

I felt safe, warm in my mother's embrace. She kissed my forehead.

Open up.

She broke my horn in two. She was in my mind, in the deepest recesses of my soul.

There was a spark; the spark that had ignited the Elements of Harmony so long ago. She took it from me. She would use it herself. And through me, through my friends, the Elements of Harmony obeyed.

Decadence passed judgement.

Then there was silence.

Guilt.

Celestia was wrecked by guilt.

I could tell. I could sense it as though it were my own.

She writhed in pain before me. She blamed herself for all of this, and it consumed her. Everything she had kept inside now surged to the surface. It hurt her.

To see the world through the eyes of Decadence.

The guards littered the ground, their bodies lying scattered on the grass, limp and lifeless. Their spirits lingered above them like misty shadows, and they eyed in admiration the colours of the park.

For the night did nothing to hide the park's beauty. To my gaze, it was clear as day. I wanted to sit there and enjoy the sight with the others.

I couldn't. Luna ruined it. Like spilt, smudged ink in the middle of a painting, she festered not far from the tree. The black loathing, the hatred, they poisoned the air. Luna despised herself, for she was a monster, and she dragged all around her into her despair. It was disgusting.

My friends were there, too. Their minds burst with questions, none of which I could catch. The cacophony of swirling emotions was drowned out by the storm that was a single thought: begging. They begged for me, for Decadence, for anything, to make it stop.

Just make the pain stop.

My leg still hurt. I didn't mind. It was nothing. I limped forward.

Shining Armor... he was empty. Nothing inside. Drained dry by the mare he pledged his life to.

Decadence sat under the cherry tree, and she gazed up at the sky with a smile on her face. She wore her dress again; it was once again clean and glowing white. Her mane swirled peacefully in the wind.

She noticed me approaching. She smiled.

“I won,” she said.

A wave of pain pulsed through me; that of all of Canterlot. Soon, it would be all of Equestria.

“You did,” I said, sitting down before her.

“I can remake the world. No more lies. No more secrets. Only love and pain. Harmony.”

I looked up. Above the vibrant Canterlot, the Moon and the stars danced gracefully in the sky.

“It truly is beautiful,” I said.

“So?” she asked. “What do you choose?”

I turned to my friends again. They begged me to make it stop.

“Will you make it end?” I asked.

“I'll do anything you ask.”

I thought I was better than this.

But no. I was weak. I've always been. It just took me too long to realise. I had never seen a pony as happy as the mare before me now. She leaned to embrace me. I pushed her off.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Anything,” she replied.

“Then take me. Only me. Let them go. Do this for me.”

“Why should I let them go?”

“Because you don't need them. You've never wanted them. All you want is me. So here I am. You can take me, and then we'll leave, somewhere far away. We'll be lost forever, together.” I looked aside, to the shell of Shining Armor, and felt again the emptiness that was inside. “And you will not hurt anypony ever again.”

“But you're going to die, Twilight. Personally, I don't plan on it. What do you suppose I do then?”

“Maybe we should die together, when the time comes. But if I go with you, you are not coming back. Never.”

“What if I lie? What if I don't follow you to the grave, but instead return here to continue what I started?”

“Then I will be powerless to stop you. But you wouldn't lie to your daughter, would you?”

Her mouth opened right away, but her voice choked. I saw her tongue move for a “no” but she wouldn't say it. Instead, she opted for something different. “Why?” she asked. “Why do this? You'd throw your life away, for... these ponies? These rotten, disgusting wretches? Don't kid yourself, Twilight. They're not your friends. They haven't been in a very long time.”

“And it's not about them. It's never been. It's not even about me. You've said it yourself: it's about you. Not the children, not love, not about anypony else, but you, Cadence. It always been about you.”

“I've told you before, do not call me—”

“Shut up!” I interrupted. “I know exactly who I'm talking to. Celestia tried to raise you to be a princess. Luna told you that you were not useless. Well, here I am now, telling you this: you are not a princess, Cadence. And you are completely useless. You act offended that Celestia took your children away; you act outraged because I grew up. But in the end, you're the one with blood on her hooves. You're the monster, not us. Yet you, Cadence, you refuse to admit that. You blame the world because the world is blaming you.”

I took a step back, spreading my hooves out.

“So here I am! I'll be your daughter. I'll be your scapegoat. Take me. Use me. Abuse me.”

She snarled. “I hate you.”

“And you love me. Because I am your sunshine. And I am your burden. I'm perfect. I'll look in the mirror so you won't have to. I will suffer so you can live. Whatever you want to do with me, I won't question it. Whatever sick fantasies your diseased mind conjures up, I'll be there to play them out for you. And I'll love you until the day I die. But you, you useless piece of filth, you will never harm another soul.”

I took the ring off my horn and cast it behind myself. I didn't care where it landed. Then I threw myself at her, wrapping my forelegs around her, embracing her stronger than I've ever done as a child.

“I love you,” I whispered. “Mother.”

Our minds touched. It was impossible to make sense of her thoughts. Under a façade of satisfaction, I felt spite and hatred. There was love, and there was hate. There was anger, and there was contentment.

There was confusion.

I held her while the storm settled. Her hooves slowly crept up on my back, and she pulled me even closer. A tear drop fell on my shoulder. She sobbed.

There was acceptance.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She let go of me. Something cold touched my forehead. I looked at her. The Element of Magic was no longer on her head. It was on mine. I took my hooves off her.

My friends were asleep. Shining Armor lay at Decadence's side, enjoying peaceful dreams.

The rest of the elements, still on her body, glowed gently. Their auras weren't weeping any more.

“I cannot right the wrongs I've done,” she said. “I can stop running from them.” She looked at Shining for a moment. “If he cannot forgive me, I do not blame him. But I have always loved him. That never changed, not for one moment. Please, make sure he knows that.”

“He will.”

She nodded. She lifted her chin and looked at me with a solemn, bitter pride. “I'm ready.”

“You don't know what's going to happen.”

“Hurry, before I lose myself again.”

I closed my eyes. A familiar power spread across my entire body. There was no pain this time.

The ground slipped from beneath my hooves. Through my closed lids, I saw Canterlot. The creeping vines that choked the buildings wrapped around my body. I sensed the weight of the greatest trees and the gentle touch of every fallen petal. With a single thought, I could incinerate it all. With a flicker of my imagination, the city could be built anew.

I sensed the drunken nobles and their wild children, taken over once again by the animalistic haze. I felt connected to the disfigured ponies of the hall, and I understood the pain and pleasure of such a perfect melding of the flesh. I could restore them to their true selves again.

Yet, amidst all this, the greatest thing on my mind was a question. Do I look as frightening to her now as Celestia did to Nightmare Moon? Do I really wield that kind of power?

“Look at me, Twilight,” Cadence said.

And I opened my eyes.

Sunshine, Sunshine...

Sunshine, Sunshine...

Shining Armor refused to speak to me. In fact, he refused to speak at all. He disappeared, wordlessly, into the city.

Celestia allowed me to leave her side at dawn. I did not try to find my brother. I did follow his example. I roamed the deserted streets alone with my thoughts. Never before had Canterlot looked so empty. We had rounded up everypony we could wherever we could fit them; the biggest gatherings were in the hall and the park. Although the pegasi guards—of both Royal and Night distinctions—still whisked swiftly overhead, the ground level had been left devoid of ponies.

It was at once soothing and alarming, what the Elements of Harmony had done. The monstrous garden of Decadence had disappeared as though it had never been there. The buildings it had touched were half-rebuilt, façades repaired but windows and doors cracked or missing. The rubble on the roads had been swept orderly to the side, free for the ponies to sort through later.

The city seemed a skeleton of its former self, stripped clean and displayed naked for all to behold. I almost wished the roads hadn't been left bare. There was nothing to kick before me as I walked my aimless way.

What am I going to tell them?

Without noticing, it appeared, I had gone a circle. I found myself near the Canterlot Great Hall. Through the windows, I saw all the confused victims of last night walking around, their grotesque deformations undone. The nobles talked, cried, hugged, and most of all, waited for the princesses to explain what had occurred.

My friends were inside, too. It had taken them a few hours to awaken after the Elements of Harmony banished the poison of Decadence from their minds. Celestia allowed me to work elsewhere.

Was it wrong to abandon them when they were at their weakest? Yes. But I simply could not bear being near them. I didn't want to be there when they woke up; I'd have had too much to explain. Truly, a monster I was.

I have to go inside. I have to talk to them.

I couldn't do it. I stepped away from the window, unwilling to risk them seeing me staring at them.

A ray of reflected light shone in my eyes. Not far from the hall was an open field, and in that field I saw all the nobles' gilded carriages glimmering in the light of the rising Sun. They'd been parked there by the hall's servants, before the gala, as the nobles arrived for the party.

Normally, one would have expected to find in the field nothing more outrageous than trampled grass and the muddy trails of wheels. Now broken axles and torn silk-curtains littered it. The carriages the pieces once belonged to lay turned over in pits that gaped in the ground: all that remained in the place of Decadence's trees.

Stepping to the rim of one of these collapsed holes, I inspected what remained of a carriage, and saw worms and small rodents chewing heartily on its tastier parts. The trees of Decadence had indeed disappeared, it seemed, but not without a parting gift.

Among the demolished remains of the carriages of gold, silver, and velvet, only a yellow wagon with a kitschy red roof stood—audaciously, gloatingly—still in one piece. In a perfect circle around it, in a radius of a few steps, the earth and grass were healthy and untouched by the night's foul sorceries.

Looks like somepony learned from the Ursa Minor incident. Whether that somepony was Luna or Trixie, I decided not to guess.

Curiosity overcame me. Or perhaps I was merely excited by the idea of finding something to actually do. Well, it's either Trixie, or... better talk with her first.

I knocked on the wagon's door. No answer came. I knocked again. Still nothing.

She had to be in there, though. On a whim, I tried the handle. The wagon's door creaked open.

The lights weren't on. A peaceful flame cracked in the smokeless fireplace.

The moment I put a hoof past the doorstep, the buzzing of the great magi-tech machine in the corner hit me. The wagon's soundproofed, no doubt. I noticed, then, just how warm it was inside. The sharp smell of soap stung my nose.

A vat of water, as big as myself, hung from the ceiling, whirling, churning, radiating the heat that filled the wagon. My eyes followed the tube that spurted from it.

Trixie shuffled her front hooves around in a small tub. Her coat was soaked with splashed hot water, and dripping sponges and wet rags floated around her. They submerged in the tub momentarily before emerging again, delivering another splash of water either to Trixie or the surrounding area.

“Trixie,” I called, once again to no response. “Trixie!”

Next to the machine, I could barely hear myself think. Under the vat on the ceiling, just at eye level, I saw a big, conspicuous red button. I figured it was either there to shut the machine down, or to activate the wagon's self-destruct mechanism. Taking the risk, I slammed a hoof onto the button. The machine stopped buzzing.

Trixie looked up, confused. “Oh. Hello, Sparky.” The sponges and rags floated to a nearby shelf. “What's up?”

“You forgot to lock your door.”

“Did I? Huh. Seems I did. Thanks for telling me. Now, would you mind?” She nodded towards the red button.

“That was just something I noticed. It isn't why I've come.”

Trixie stepped out of the tub. On her fetlock, I could see patches of bare skin where hair had been scrubbed and scratched away. Her skin had turned red from the irritation; the minute cracks on the surface bled slightly.

“Why did you come, then?” she asked. “Aren't you busy collecting all the ponies? Assessing damage, and all that?”

“We do have a few estimates now,” I said. “Celestia just let me go.”

“So, how bad is it?”

“Seems that death count's lower than when the changelings attacked.” Talk about good news, I thought. “So that's something.”

“And Cadence?”

“Gone.”

“Still no sign of her?” Trixie asked.

“Still no sign of her,” I answered.

“That's a pity.”

“That's one way of putting it,” I said. “But you know, I was going to ask what you've been doing all this time. I haven't seen you since Solstice.”

“I did my part. While you were off parading at the park, I was helping out around the hall. I requested a private audience with Luna once you were done. She gave me an early leave.”

“Why would she give you an early leave?” I asked.

Trixie shrugged. “I don't know, she just did.”

“Luna wouldn't just give you a free break. Not last night.”

“Listen, Starbutt. How about you drop the act and just tell me what you really want?”

I stepped closer. “I just want to talk.”

Stepping back into the tub, Trixie let loose a short giggle. “Yeah, I'm sure you have a lot to talk about. But knowing you, not with me. Go talk to your friends. Rainbowing Lightning and Applescotch, and whatever.”

Trixie did know me all too well. There was a reason I hadn't talked to them all night; I was postponing it. After Shining Armor refused to look me in the eye, I could not look in theirs. If I had left now, and did not return to my friends right away, I could never have justified that to myself.

But I didn't want to see them yet. I couldn't.

Besides, I remarked to myself, even Trixie needs friends. Especially after the gala.

A puff of Trixie's magic turned the machine back on. My spell turned it off again.

Trixie looked up, sighing—groaning—theatrically. “What do you want?”

“I figured you might want to talk about Skyglow.”

“Oh, don't mind Skyglow. She's always grumpy like that.”

Quit playing, would you? I'm trying to be tactful here. “No, I mean, what she said. To you. About... you know.”

“If I remembered everything Skyglow says to me, trust me, I'd be trying to forget. She's hated me since day one. Got used to it. I don't need you kissing my wounds, thank you very much.”

“Trixie...” I stepped closer again. “You can talk to me. Believe me, if you need to get something off your chest—”

She sprung from the tub. “Damn it, shut up, Sparky! I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't care. Leave me alone.”

She looked down, shaking her head. After a deep breath, she put her hooves into the tub again, looking rather at her reflection than me. A spark pressed the red button.

“Just go,” she said as the machine's noise grew. “I'm busy. I... I need to wash my hooves.”

The wagon rumbled as the hot vat shook. It was best, I realised, to leave Trixie alone. As I put my hoof onto the doorknob, I sighed.

Great. Now I need another excuse for not talking to my friends yet.

I stepped out of the wagon.

Rarity stood right outside. The rest of my friends were sitting behind her.

Oh.

It's not something that you could explain in a single conversation. They wanted to hear the whole story, though, and I obliged. From the changeling siege of Canterlot, through the murder of my parents, to the birth and death of Decadence, I told my tale.

We've been through a lot, the six of us. We've defeated Nightmare Moon, and we have cleansed Luna of the darkness in her heart. We've broken Discord's spells and sealed the draconequus in stone. We have stared down Queen Chrysalis and fought her children for the Elements of Harmony. This was no different, was it?

I promised them I would keep no secrets any more. They promised to forgive me for the lies. I did it to protect them, after all. Together, we all promised to carry on, like we always did. For we were friends, and no mischievous god or parasitic demon could change that.

We would put it behind ourselves. Everything would go back to normal. It always has.

And here I am now, months later, definitely not thinking about it, I thought as I glanced outside into the snow.

It was early in the evening. I've always liked the winter.

When one thinks of the season, the first thing that usually comes to mind is the snow. But that wasn't the reason I liked it. The snow was, really, just a minor thing for which I never cared much. No, the reason for my love of winter was the dark. There was something soothing about an early sunset. It gave Spike an excuse to go to bed earlier, too. Even now he was fast asleep upstairs, and I was sitting alone in the library's main room, staring out the window.

The reddish lights of the street lamps blended with the white and black, and I shared my enjoyment of looking at the occasional passing pony with a hot cup of tea and an old story from H. P. Lovecolt. There was something fascinating about his tales of unknowable evils from beyond this world, and reading them gave me a sense of adventure. I hadn't felt anything like it in a long while.

Just as I turned a page, there was a quiet knock on the door. I wondered who would want to borrow a book at this hour. Then I realised, of course, that I might not be the only one who likes to read after dark. Oh, they'd better not want to take out this book, or I'll be angry.

I got up and walked to the door. Opening it, I was greeted by a familiar dark stallion. In his jaws, he clutched a string on which a gift box hung with a postcard.

“Good evening,” he said. “My name is Sunbeam Gigglesnark. I'm looking for an old friend of mine, I was told she lives here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Omen?”

“Ah, perfect,” he said. “You remember me.”

“Taking the front door this time?” I asked.

Omen nodded. “I'm always eager to try new things.”

I stepped aside, holding the door open. “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

He quickly wiped the snow from his hooves before coming in. I didn't think the cold affected him in any way, and as such I felt glad to see him so considerate.

“Oh, where may I put this?” he asked.

I motioned towards the desk under the window. “Make space there. Mind the tea.”

He pushed the book and tea aside carefully, and placed the box onto the desk.

“To what do I owe the honour?” I asked.

“I just thought I'd visit,” he answered. “Our last meeting wasn't exactly what I was hoping it would be.”

“One rough night for all of us.” An understatement if I'd ever heard one. I preferred not to bog down thinking about the night, though. “I see you didn't rasp your fangs off this time.”

“Well, I thought, cat's out of the bag now.”

“You didn't even know if I'd remember you.”

“My life is an adventure, what can I say?”

Crazy as ever, I remarked in my head. Nothing new. “What's with the box?” I asked.

“When Miss Melody learned I would be seeing you, she insisted I bring you this.”

“Octavia sent me something?” I asked, walking to the desk.

“An early Hearth's Warming Present, she called it.”

I took the box into my hooves, feeling its weight. It was lighter than I imagined. “What's in it?”

“I'm not ruining the surprise, Miss Sparkle.”

I put the box down. “It's not Vinyl's head, is it?”

Omen smirked. I turned my attention to the postcard attached to the box. The writing proved difficult to read, but after a few words, I got a hang of it.

“Dear Miss Twilight Sparkle,

It has been a long time since we last properly talked. I am not one to converse through mail (writing is difficult when one cannot properly feel one's own muscles) but I would like to keep in touch. I have recently acquired an apartment of my own in the lower district of Canterlot. Perhaps, when you have the time, you could visit.

Your friend, O. M.

And at the bottom of the paper, squeezed into a corner, was another signature in a slightly more legible writing. Vinyl Scratch didn't bother hiding her full name, although I assumed she hadn't been too keen on signing.

“It's Vinyl's head,” I said. “Stop denying it.”

Omen shook his head ever so slightly, rolling his eyes as he suppressed a smile.

I turned the card to see a beautifully painted—and expertly mass-produced—picture of the Canterlot Park in the winter. The right side of the image was filled out by the old cherry tree, blooming vividly despite the thick blanket of snow that surrounded it. To the left, above the snowy plains, was pre-printed writing in ornate lettering:

“The ladybugs may have gone to sleep, but the city never will.

Come visit beautiful Canterlot!”

I sighed as the postcard floated to the desk. It brought back the memories of that night. The Elements of Harmony had mended the city, but Cadence was never seen again.

I could have sworn that the cherry tree grew taller by morning. And ever since then—indeed, to this very day—the tree blossomed. Its petals would keep on falling, without end. Once a flower was spent, a new one would grow in its place, forcing its dead sister from the stalk. Whatever the season, day or night, the tree was always in bloom, always at the peak of its beauty.

But a tree that is always in bloom can never bear fruit.

And here they are, making a tourist attraction out of it all. Stay classy, Canterlot.

“Any news of Luna?” Omen asked.

“I don't know any more than the next pony. I don't think we're going to see her any time soon.”

“Celestia punished her?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Or she's just ashamed. I've heard some have seen her on her spire's balcony at night, but that's just rumours. I really wouldn't know exactly. I don't keep up with it. I don't really... work any more.”

“You don't?” Omen raised a brow. “Then how can you remember me?”

“Well, I never officially quit. I just told Luna, right that night, you know, that I'd take a break. Now, I've been fully expecting to be blanked.” I took a second to appreciate all the horrible memories I've accumulated throughout the years. “But I haven't been, so far.”

A fanged smile crept up Omen's cheeks. “Well then, Miss Sparkle, how has normalcy been treating you?

“It's harder than I thought it would be.”

Omen glanced at the book and tea. “You seem to be settling in nicely.”

“I'm making progress.”

But it would never be the same. Learning to sleep until noon was simple in itself, but there were things I couldn't so easily fix.

I hated to admit that.

Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Rarity: a group of ponies I keep referring to as my friends. I had been liberal in my use of that word throughout my first four years of Night Shift. Now I couldn't say those words without guilt.

As much as I loved and respected these mares, they weren't my friends. Not any more. They knew everything, now. We all agreed not to talk about it, to pretend that Night Shift didn't change a thing.

But it did.

I found myself taking long walks in the Everfree Forest, both to escape the crowd of the town and to re-live old thrills.

Pinkie did her best to rekindle the old friendship, but no matter the kind of party she threw, I couldn't enjoy it. I had to stop going after a while.

Rarity insisted that she and I make regular trips to the spa. I humoured her request; there was no harm in being pampered a little every once in a while.

I caught her once, just as we were leaving, checking the white of her eyes in a mirror. We didn't go so often afterwards.

To say nothing about Spike; of what I'd done to him. To find out that I had been risking my life every other night... to say he was devastated would be an understatement. He spent a day clinging to my leg, refusing to let go. I had to spend many nights talking to him before he felt safe letting me out of sight.

I wanted nothing more than to return to my former life. But there was no way.

Such it was that I was having a casual conversation with an immortal vampire old enough to share Celestia's birth date.

I looked at the postcard for a moment. “I see Octavia has been a good student of yours. Already making connections, and making sure she doesn't lose them.”

“I wouldn't think of it like that,” Omen said. “I think she's being genuinely friendly. You should humour her. Oh, just don't tell anypony who the gift is from. Just a precaution.”

“Of course.”

I eyed Omen up and down. I may have shuffled uncomfortably in place a little. I absolutely hated to admit it, but I had much to thank Omen for. Yet the fog of secrecy he hid in had always bothered me. Should I ask, now, or would that be impolite?

“Something amiss?” he asked.

Oh, like he ever cared. I might as well. “Say, Omen, is your real name Devorador? The first?”

“Pardon?” he asked. By his look of surprise, I may have just hit the nail on the head.

“Skyglow called you the oldest fiend in existence,” I said. “I couldn't help but read up a bit. Old myths, urban legends, the like. From time to time, going back hundreds of years, there is mention of a mysterious black stallion that appears when death looms. Disease striking, bridges falling, ponies disappearing... it's not a comprehensive picture, but signs are pointing your way.”

Omen smirked. “You shouldn't believe everything you read.” He turned his head for a moment, sighing, before looking back at me. “The answer to your question is no.”

“No?”

“Devorador himself was the sire of my sire. And he is quite dead, I assure you, as is his spawn.”

“But you knew Nightmare Moon,” I said. “Wasn't it she who created the original vampires?”

“I did, and yes. It was a rather... long, productive night for us. But they were hunted down, the most of them. All those fools, staying loyal to Nightmare Moon even after she was defeated. It was the inception of many doomsday cults, in fact, with vampires taking the lead. Because of that, Celestia was very thorough in rounding us up.”

“You're still here, though.”

“Because I ran. I hid.” He smiled. “As the crusades and witch-hunts entered their golden age, I did what I could to survive. It's not a story you want to hear.”

“I'll be the judge of that.”

Omen stepped close to me. “Do you remember what you told me, on the night of the gala, in the ruined mansion? You told me that you wanted to die, and that I couldn't possibly understand that desire.”

“It rings a bell.”

“You were right,” he said. “I have never, for one instant of my existence, wanted to die. I've been running from death, for a thousand years. To that end, I've murdered and I've tortured. In my two hundreds, I particularly enjoyed going after the families of my hunters.”

I couldn't help taking a step back.

“But if you think,” he continued, “that it was Nightmare Moon's magic that turned me into a monster, you are wrong. See, Miss Sparkle, I was a monster long before I died. My family lived in terror of me. The things I've done to them... bear no words.”

“I'd like to think you've changed since then,” I said.

“I would as well,” he replied. “Now that I'm enjoying Princess Luna's protection, life has become much simpler. Much more peaceful.”

“But you're still afraid of death, after all this time.”

“I am,” he said. “Very much so.”

“I understand why I'm afraid of the great unknown,” I said. “But you? It sounds to me you've done everything one can in life. The good, and the bad. Who knows, Omen? There might be an afterlife with brand new opportunities.”

“And that,” he responded, “is exactly what I'm afraid of. I'd be content with nothingness. But if that's not the case... I'm not quite ready to look my daughter in the eye yet.” He looked away for a moment, again, putting a hoof before his mouth and clearing his throat. “That's why I want you to keep in touch with Miss Melody. I'm a bad influence. A compliment, Miss Sparkle, if I may.”

“Fire away.”

“It is a shame you've left Luna's service. The night is less for it. Miss Melody needs friends like you.”

Would you look at that. The great Omen thinks I'm special. “Noted. Thank you, Omen.”

“Now, unless you truly want to hear every gruesome detail of my life, I'll be on my way. I only came to deliver Miss Melody's gift.”

“I think... I think that'll be fine, yes. Thank you again.”

“Please,” Omen said, turning for the door, “don't mention it.”

I went to open the door for him. He stopped at the doorstep, however.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I just can't stop thinking. It's interesting, how times change, and how they don't. Wouldn't you agree?”

I tilted my head. “I'm not sure I follow.”

“Just thinking out loud. First there was Luna. And now, Cadence. Woe betide the world when Celestia walks down the same path.”

“You mean if, Omen.”

He smiled, stepping outside. “Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

It would've been difficult to comment on his ominous remark. I settled with merely saying goodbye. “Good night, Omen.”

“I'll be seeing you,” he replied.

“Oh? Will I be seeing you?”

Omen chuckled, waving. “Good bye, Miss Sparkle.”

I shut the door, shaking my head.

Well, that was something.

I walked to the desk and carefully unpacked the gift box. Inside, beneath several layers of pretty ribbons and protective stuffing, was a single vinyl record. It made me remember that I had an old player stashed away somewhere in the basement. After much rummaging about, and perhaps breaking an old antique or two, I finally found it, and brought it up to the ground floor. I set it up and placed the record to play.

The dark disc sang a song of bitter beauty; it was just one, long cello solo. Spike awoke to the music and came downstairs, being, in turn, enraptured by the piece as well. He asked where I got it. I had vowed not to keep secrets from my friends any longer. I also did not want to betray Octavia's trust by revealing the truth. I solved this conundrum by telling Spike that it was from a friend I met on my travels. He understood the implication, and would not ask anything else. He simply listened on, rather than disturb the melody.

We spent the night replaying the recording over and over. There was something uncanny about it, something that made you crave for more.

Just one more time.

Manehatten: one of Equestria's biggest and most densely populated cities. Its annual Hearth's Warming celebration drew ponies from across the realm, and the city had prepared to greet them in kind. The snowy streets were decorated with many red and green lights that somehow looked beautiful even during the day, and the closer you got to the city centre, the more you could feel the pleasant smell of sugary confections and mulled wine.

Indeed, Manehatten was a splendid place to visit, especially this time of year. I still had my doubts about actually living there, of course. Well, I thought, to each their own.

Third floor. Third door to the left. Sunbolt's apartment. I'd arrived.

The door was quick to open after I knocked. A tall, white pegasus came to greet me, clomping along with surprising finesse despite missing a leg. The wooden prosthetic in place of his fourth leg was simple, but I reckoned it could only be better than walking around on three legs.

Octavia's victim. Small world. And now I have to pretend I don't recognise him. Well, I'm nothing if not a moderately good liar.

“Good evening,” I said. “Sunbolt?”

“That would be me,” he replied, offering a hoof. “We thought you'd come sooner. Did anything happen?”

“It's nothing, really. Train was late to arrive in Ponyville. Holdup in Canterlot, as I understand. But I'm here now, and that's what matters.”

“That's right. Hey, don't just stand there, come in.”

I stepped inside. It was a modestly sized apartment that overlooked a busy Manehatten street. Although it was by no means big, it seemed comfortable enough. From the anteroom, one could look into the bright living room on one side, and I heard somepony shutting a cupboard in the kitchen on the other.

In light of the well-known nature of young stallions around Equestria, the place was surprisingly clean. Must've done this just for me, I thought. How nice of him.

In contrast with the openness of the apartment, the door to one of the rooms was conspicuously closed.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” I said. “It means a lot, being able to spend Hearth's Warming with my brother.”

“Don't mention it. Shining's family is my family. Plus...” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you could cheer him up, that'd be great. You know he hasn't been the same since....”

“Of course. It's the reason I'm here, after all.”

“Well then, we've actually arranged... hey, Lyra?”

The mint green unicorn stepped out the kitchen. “Hey!” she said, coming over to me. “Long time no see.”

“Oh, you know each other?” Sunbolt asked her. “Oh yeah, you used to live in Ponyville too. Anyway, as I was saying, we've arranged to spend a few nights elsewhere. Just to give you more time with Shining, of course.” He leaned into the living room, looking at a clock on the wall. “In fact, we should be going right about now. So, the place is yours. Shining has keys. Don't take what isn't yours. Have a nice Hearth's Warming.”

Lyra put a hoof on Sunbolt's back, and brushed another leg against his chest. “Sunny, why don't you give me a minute with Twilight? To talk about girl stuff. Ponyville girl stuff. Y'know.”

“Sure. Just hurry up, or we'll be late.” With that, he walked out the door.

“Hey,” I said after him, “thanks again. Merry Hearth's Warming!”

“Right back at you,” he said as he disappeared down the stairs.

Lyra waited until he was out of hearing distance. Then she closed the door for good measure.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“He can't remember a thing,” she said with a disturbingly excited smile. “I know, right? So not a word. Hear me? Not a word.”

“Sure, no judgement here. You go, girl. Actually, I thought you and Bon Bon were....”

“Ugh, please. About as much as you and Trixie are. She's just a friend.”

“Right. Now go on, I'm sure Sunny is waiting.”

“Thanks! See ya.”

Lyra bounced out the door. Trixie and I... ridiculous.

I was finally alone. All that separated me from my brother now was that door. That closed door. I hesitated with opening it. I had spent the entire train ride from Ponyville preparing for this, and yet, I was afraid to look him in the eye.

Right on the night of the gala, I tried explaining everything to him. He pushed me away, refusing to see me or talk to me.

In the months that followed, that hardly changed. He resigned from the Royal Guard, and has been swinging across the country ever since, living from odd job to odd job, never managing to hold one for long. He visited me in Ponyville once, when he found nowhere else to go, but he absolutely refused to communicate with me. And, of course, he would not take my money. What he did take was the earliest opportunity to leave.

He still had no idea about me or Night Shift. He didn't care.

After not hearing from him for over a month, I received a letter from him stating that he'd crash at an “old guard buddy's place” this Hearth's Warming. I guessed the season's spirit got to him. Through the resulting exchange, I coerced him into revealing where exactly he'd be staying.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

Shining Armor's room was exactly what the rest of the apartment wasn't; dirty, cramped, and reeking of alcohol and sweat. At the far end, the blinds were closed over a solitary window. All that passed for decoration were scattered tissues, smashed, used take-out boxes, and a few dark bottles in the corner.

His bed was a simple mattress on the floor. I imagined there was quite a story behind that. He lay there with tired eyes, peeking at me from under his overgrown mane.

“So...” I forced a smile. “Hello, Shining.”

He flicked a few loose strands of his mane from his eyes. His unshorn fetlocks were dark from the dust that had collected through the who knows how many days since his last shower. “Hi,” he said. Greetings done, he turned around to face the wall.

I went to open the blinds and let some light in. While I was at the window, I figured I might as well open it. The chilling winter air was still preferable to whatever vapours I had been inhaling. Shining pulled his pillow over his head. My purple aura lifted it and placed it down at the foot of the mattress.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“I'm great.”

“Say, what's your job like?” I asked. “I remember your letter, that you're this, er, Sales Area and Client Security Manager? That sounds nice.”

“A disco two streets down hired a bunch of guys for New Years to kick drunks in the face when they get out of line,” he grumbled. “It's what I'm gonna be doing.”

“Well... sure is nice of Sunbolt, isn't it, letting you stay here. He seems to greatly respect you. You're lucky to have him for a friend.”

“Yeah. Real lucky. I'm only staying like a week or two.”

“Hey, do you know what he'd like? I'm sure he'd be happy if we, er, cleaned up a bit while he was gone. Here, I'll help. We could talk while we're at it. That'd be nice, catching up, wouldn't it?”

“I'll clean up when I move out.”

“Oh, right,” I said, “like you cleaned up after you stayed at the library. Come on, it'll be easier while I'm here.”

“I thought you were dead, mum.”

“Wow,” was all I could reply.

Shining lay still on the bed, staring at the wall before him, and I stood there, at once furious and filled with pity. Very well, Shining Armor. No more Miss Nice Sparkle.

His coat glowed brightly as my magic encased him. He floated from the bed and was put down onto his shaky hooves, facing me.

“If I were mum,” I began, “you'd get slapped so hard, the wall would give you the next one. Alas, I'm not that strong.” I slowly shook my head. “Look at yourself. Look at what you've become.”

He shook himself, sitting down stubbornly as my spell dispersed. “I didn't ask you to come here.”

“Well, I'm here now. Can't I visit my last living...” Stars. I promised myself I wouldn't say it. “My brother. Can't visit my brother on Hearth's Warming?”

He hung his head, turning away again, breathing heavily, frantically. I put my hooves on his shoulders and hugged him close.

“Hey,” I whispered in his ear, “how about we get out of here too? Cleaning can wait. You need some fresh air.”

“I don't need anything,” he said, words weak.

“Please, BBBFF.”

I let him go and extended a hoof, asking him to stand up.

“Walk with me.”

Shining Armor took my tale of Cadence—of Decadence—far better than I thought he would. Perhaps the scars had healed in the time since the gala. Or, perhaps, there was simply nothing more left in him for grief to take. Whatever the reason, he gave me no judgemental words or disgusted stares. He listened.

Over the days of Hearth's Warming, I realised that I could do more than just talk.

Without the Royal Guard, Shining could not keep his life straight. Yet returning was out of the question, because it hurt him too much. I told him that there was another organisation out there; that he and I, together, had the chance to make the world a better place, to make sure that what happened to us would not happen to anypony else ever again. He did not think long about it. He could not say no.

In the aftermath of the gala, after Decadence, the cultists and their monsters scrambled into the deepest holes and darkest caves in the corners of Equestria. They whispered that once the stars were right, the Children would one day aid in the return of the one Mother.

Night Shift needed agents, now more than ever.

My little closet of horrors had waited patiently for me behind the old bookshelf of my library bedroom. A small family of spiders had made it their home, I found. Although I didn't have the heart to clean them out, I had to ruin one of their prettier webs to get what I wanted: a short, blue ribbon that I never had the opportunity to use. If Luna was still out there, watching over the night, this would help me reach her.

In my letter, I explained that I would return, but not alone. I extended a humble recommendation at the same time. The response arrived shorty, signed not only by the Princess of the Night, but by Celestia as well.

We would no longer be alone in the darkness. Shining Armor and I would face the nights to come together.

I had a lot of stories to tell him.

Author's Note

If you're in the mood for more stories from the world of Night Shift, consider reading its prequel: Monsters.

Fair warning, though: Monsters is not more Night Shift. It is a different story with different characters and different stakes -- but with recurring themes and set in the same "universe."

Bonus Chapter: The Giant Weasel Incident

Bonus Chapter:
The Giant Weasel Incident

It was a good while after the Decadence fiasco – Cadence lost her mind and tried to end the world, it's quite the story, I'm sure I've told you about it – that I was spending some time in Canterlot. Just the day before, I'd captured a rogue spirit living in the library, and I needed rest.

With nothing but a few bits in my bag and time to kill, I decided to tour some of the lesser-used streets of the pristine city. Secrets, I'd found, often hung around dark alleys. Some were more mundane than others.

On the corner of a narrow street was an old shop. Once upon a time it may have been a nice place, but today decades of dust and cobwebs covered whatever decorations that resided within. There was an old stallion behind the gnat-infested counter who had a wandering eye and bones that creaked louder than the floorboards. In my time in Night Shift, I'd learned to recognise when adventure called. This one seemed interesting.

He greeted me with about three teeth in his smile, and an apparent effort to focus both of his eyes on me. “I'd been expecting you,” he said, voice like a dying whisper. “Here for the tome, yes?”

“I think you're getting ahead of yourself, old stallion,” I replied, as eager and curious as wary. If the number of times a pony saved the world is any measure of their likelihood to be some sort of 'chosen one', I'd say I was anyone's best bet. Still, there's only so much world-saving one can do before getting a little bit tired of it. I'd hoped for a smaller job. Catch a monster, slay a demon – that sort of thing. “We have never met.”

He chuckled through his smile, air whistling in the spaces between his remaining teeth. He reached for a shelf above the counter – filled with pickled organs, strange concoctions, and at least one dead rat – and retrieved an ancient tome. He placed the tome on the counter and slid it over to me.

“None must know you got this from me,” he said. “I've taken a huge risk in keeping it all this time. I'm glad you're finally here to take this burden off my back.”

My horn lit up, and the tome flew up before me. Its pages were yellow and hardened by time, more prone to break than tear – and empty. Not a word written on the inside or out.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked. “If this is a joke, or a trap, know that I'll find you again.”

“Its secrets are yours to discover,” he said. Then he stared, frozen with that grin on his face.

So I left, with the tome buried in my bag.

I liked the mystery. Was it unwise to attempt this strange quest alone? Most likely. I've never been anything if not wilful and just a little bit proud, though. Little lapses of judgement create the best stories.

The tome was an old one, bound in leather. The front cover held no title, only strange, arcane runes the kind of which I'd never encountered in all my adventures, not even anything vaguely similar. Over my stay in Canterlot, I spent many sleepless nights trying to decipher them. While I came no closer to gleaning the meaning of the runes, I quickly found out something peculiar: at midnight, every night, the runes glowed for a minute.

'What are you?' I wrote into the first page of the tome, at midnight on the dot. The old tome swallowed my quill's ink.

'The keeper of secrets', the tome wrote back, ink appearing from the pages before sinking back within the moment.

'What secrets?' I asked the tome. My minute was almost up.

'Luna's secrets', it replied.

'What sort of secrets?'

The tome did not respond for a while. I was beginning to fear I'd ran out of time; I had been too tense to keep track of passing seconds.

'The secrets of weasels', it finally said.

“See?” I asked, slamming the tome onto Luna's desk. “Is this a joke?”

Princess Luna eyed the tome inquisitively, tilting her head this way and that. “You tell me,” she said, eyes on the leather cover. “Are you playing a prank? For your sake, I will not ask what this is made of.”

“I want to know what this is,” I said, tapping on the cover. “It keeps blabbering about you... you and weasels.”

Her ears perked up and her eyes went wide. I'd expected her to laugh. Instead she gave me the most horrified look. “Weasels?”

“Weasels.”

She started breathing heavily, and her gaze wandered as though she was about to faint. “What size are these... weasels?”

“I beg your pardon?” I rubbed my forehead. “What do you mean, what size? Are you saying this isn't a joke?”

“Where did you come across this tome?”

“A shop two streets down. In fact...” I turned around. From Luna's room, high in a spire of Canterlot Palace, it was easy to see. I pointed outside to the street in question. “Right there. The shop is...” And that's when I noticed. I recognised the street from an aerial view, but it was as though a building was missing. “It's gone?”

She stepped up, leaning over my shoulder to scan the city. “What is gone?”

“The shop! It was right there. I swear.”

She closed her eyes. Her horn glowed, and the tome floated into the air. Before I could say a word, Luna's horn came alive with a bright spark – and the tome caught fire.

“What are you doing?!”

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said, staring into the flames and the falling, charred flakes of old paper, “there are things in this world that must remain hidden. I urge you, nay, I command you not to pursue this matter further.”

“Weasels?” Vinyl Scratch asked. She was a vampire; her blood hadn't flowed in her veins in decades. Yet I could've sworn I saw her face go white, whiter even than it was normally. “I'm telling you, Twilight, I'm staying out of this. Far away. In fact, let me pack my things and move to the farthest corner of the world, 'cause I'm not about to be around when you inevitably find out.”

She fell back against her dressing table, grabbing her head. The muffled sounds of the night club throbbed across the thin walls of Vinyl's office, imitating a heartbeat. Perhaps that's why the vampire loved it so much.

“Do you know anything about this?” I asked.

Octavia sat. She sat, and she stared, jaw hanging. “I wish I didn't. By the stars, I wish I didn't know about the Giant Weasel Incident.”

Vinyl curled up in a corner and began rocking back and forth. “Why did you have to remind me, Twilight?” She sniffed. “I can still smell the bagels. And my nose has been dead for years.”

I stomped. “What in Equestria are you talking about? Look, I'm not going to drag you into this—”

Octavia sighed. “You already did, Miss Twilight.”

“...but I'm at a dead end here. The tome is gone and Luna wants this buried. The stallion at the shop told me this was for me to discover. I need to know. So tell me.”

Vinyl rubbed her temples, groaning. “No. Nope, nada, nah, I'm not saying nothin'. Get out. I'm telling you, Twilight, get out.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you say bagels?”

She perked up, a horror behind her eyes. “No! No, I didn't say anything. You heard me, Tavi, I totally didn't.”

I turned my head to Octavia.

She stared blankly at the wall. “Damn it, Miss Vinyl.”

I knew where to go next.

That same night, I hit up Pony Joe's. I remembered my first time there, after that catastrophic Grand Galloping Gala. We gathered there with the girls and Celestia and Spike. Those were good times. Innocent times. Before Chrysalis, before Decadence... and before the weasels.

“Give me the largest doughnut you have,” I said, holding up a hoof as I barged in. “Extra sprinkles. I'm in a bad mood.”

He nodded, putting down the mug he'd been drying with a towel. Why is it that barkeeps are always drying mugs and glasses? Ah, those were questions for another time. It was clear, by now, that I wouldn't gain information regarding the weasels easily. It was as if anypony who knew about it wanted it all gone.

I threw myself into a tall barstool at the counter, then buried my face in my hooves. I'd never been much for pretend-weeping, but I'd known Rarity long enough to pick up on a few things. The scrunch of the nose, the wobbly voice... with enough stimulation, even the tear ducts could be bent to the conscious will. I rubbed my cheeks and breathed quickly and shallowly for a moments – and then, my tears were falling like rain.

“Aww,” Joe sighed. “How did life let you down?”

“They told me...” I paused for a dry gag and a sniff. “They told me I should just get a dog, you know? Or maybe a ferret.”

He leaned on the counter, a concerned look on his face. Joe was, by all account, a nice pony. I hated to toy with his emotions like that, but a mare needed information, and she was going to get it. “Something happened to a little friend?” he asked, patting my shoulder.

I looked at him, face screwed up with feigned sorrow. I gave him a nod as if I couldn't speak.

“Don't worry, lady,” Joe said. “Say, that doughnut you wanted? It's on the house. Let me get it for you.”

The moment he turned around, I was already scanning the place. There were a couple of ponies sitting further back, apparently unaware of the crying mare up front, or pretending to be. Not much else going at this late hour. The diner smelled of sugar and freshly baked goods, and had a warm, if a bit humid, atmosphere. It was easy to see why sad ponies would come here. A very comforting place.

A row of framed photographs stood on a shelf above Pony Joe. Some seemed to be of his family; others were pictures of him and the diner, taken with or by grateful guests. He posed with Royal Guards off – and occasionally on – duty; pretty, young broads; wizened old stallions; all seeking the comfort of an understanding pair of ears and a sweet doughnut.

One picture among the dozens caught my eye. It was Trixie, standing upright on a diner table, her wide-brimmed hat tilted back and cape flowing in the wind, with the many guests and Joe himself looking up at her in awe. It was difficult to tell from the picture – it looked old and cracked in many places – but she seemed to be levitating a bunch of chairs and making some sort of structure out of them. They looked warped by magic, contracted here and elongated there to better represent whatever she was building. Her work obviously wasn't done at the moment the picture had been taken. Yet I thought I could discern a general shape:

Something four-legged. Something round-eared. Something long.

Squinting just right, off centre and out of focus, I could just barely make out a cage in the picture, sitting on an unused chair. The troubling thing about it was the weasel inside... or rather, half inside. Just as the photo had been snapped, the animal was squeezing itself out between two bars, and its upper half was already free. The ponies in the pictures all seemed too enraptured by Trixie's hocus-pocus to notice.

Joe came back with the doughnut. He placed the plate in front of me, followed up by a warm mug of hot chocolate.

“Now,” he began, “tell me what ails you. I'm the keeper of many secrets.”

“You are?” I asked back in pretend ignorance. “Well... it's about my pet, like you guessed.”

“What sort of pet?”

I nibbled at the doughnut innocently. “A lovely sort. My oh my, how I loved her.”

He put a hoof on mine. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“I guess it's my fault,” I said, wiping away my tears. “I shouldn't have bought a weasel.”

Joe lifted his hoof for a moment, a clear look of fright on his face. But then he put it right back, and his familiar, reassuring smile returned. “Well, I don't know too much about weasels, but I know they can be trouble.”

“Not mine,” I said. “She was an angel.”

“What happened to her?”

I looked him square in the eye. “I didn't give her enough bagels.”

Slowly, Joe retracted his hoof. That friendly smile melted away. He lowered his voice to a dreadful whisper. “Is the Great One restless again?”

“Positively agitated,” I said, unsure of what to expect. Best keep him talking, I figured.

“I trust the Gaze of the Northern Salad is turned our way?” he asked.

“I've yet to find it,” I said. “Where should I look?”

“So it does not want to be found.” He took off his little paper hat and placed it over his heart. “Truly the stars have abandoned us.”

We exchanged a moment of silence. I may not have known what he was talking about, but staring into his eyes, the severity of the situation slowly dawned on me.

“What must we do?” I asked.

“I don't know, lady,” he said. It was like he was staring right through me. “I don't know.”

Finding Trixie was difficult, with her being a travelling magician as well as an agent of Night Shift and all. It took me weeks of searching. I'd passed through great cities and tiny towns and travelled down paths both well known and never before used. Equestria was a vast place, and finding this one pony truly took a toll on me. The only saving throw I had was Trixie's love of bombast; if she'd been somewhere, the ponies knew, and they could always point me in her direction. She truly knew how to make an impression. It was only a matter of following her tracks.

Rolling eyes, words of annoyance, and displeased groans guided my way towards Trixie. Eventually, I found her wagon stationed in the biggest square of a small, out of the way town up in northern Equestria. Weary of both mind and body, I'd finally arrived in Pin Tweaks. The mare herself, however, was nowhere to be found.

It was a small town, beset by evergreen mountains, and not a soul in hours of travel in any direction. Crumbled plaster covered the streets under antique walls, and of all the buildings, none but the mayor's reached above a single floor. By the conspiring looks and hushed whispers that the ponies in the diner exchanged, I figured this was a close-knit community, not very welcoming of outsiders. Trixie may have been their first meeting with the outside world in generations by the looks of it, and goodness knew if that was the case they had every right to be wary of newcomers.

I sat down by the counter. Everypony else subtly, slightly turned away and lowered their voice. The waitress – a matronly, plump old mare with her mane in a bun and a stained apron tied around her waist – fought down a sneer while turning to me. She didn't say anything, only furrowed her eyebrows at me.

“Tea, if you would,” I said, throwing some bits onto the counter. “And some information.”

She cleared her throat and replied in a gravelly voice, “Info-what?”

“That wagon outside.” I stuck the tip of my hoof towards the door. “You know who it belongs to?”

She squinted, looking through the diner's glass door, a frown creasing her face. “Is some no-good plonker gobermouch is what she is. Came ridin' in town an' never 'ad a good word ta anypone. Whatcha' wan' with 'er?”

“I need to discuss with her the state of weasels.”

She gave me a long look-over. “Yer some crazy pone like 'er ahn'cha?” With that, she turned around to fetch my tea.

While waiting for my drink, I pretended not to notice all the ponies now staring at me. I saw one of them shift and fidget uncomfortably. He had a long cloak covering his hunchback and a hood draped over his face and an unkempt beard. When the waitress slammed my mug of tea down, spilling a drop, the strange stallion stood up. He walked just slow enough that the waitress went to tend to other ponies by the time he got here.

He climbed into the seat next to me, slumping over the counter and sticking his wide, circled eyes at me from the shadow of his hood.

“D-did-didja...” he jabbered, “Didja say, weasels?” The lump on his back seemed to shift and pulsate under his cloak, and I could've sworn I heard some high-pitched squeaking.

“You know something about them?” I asked, turning to him.

He twiddled his hooves a bit. “I... I know something about them.”

I leaned in, beckoning him closer, putting my mouth to his ear. “Is the Great One growing restless?”

He recoiled, nearly falling off his seat. His lump nearly fell off his back before climbing back into its spot amidst more squeaking. “The Great One fears the Bagel Lord, but the Haymaker forgot the Skinner's breakfast.” His eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice. “H-he hates salad dressing.”

Intrigued and terrified in equal measure, I knew I had to find out more. It was also obvious that the doddering fool sitting beside me wouldn't be of much use. “Tell me, where can I find Trixie?”

“The Trickster is out of town,” he said. “Sh-she needed fresh air, she said, she did. Mayor told her ta get a hike. Not seen her since, we haven't, I didn't.”

“Fresh air, you say?” I asked back.

“And a hike.”

I liked the way this one thought.

There was a mountain that overlooked the entirety of Pin Tweaks – and a hiking trail leading up to the pinnacle. It was as good a place to start as any. The Sun was setting by the time I reached the mountaintop. Trixie, again, was nowhere.

It's a shame, I thought. I'd almost grown fond of her during our little adventures a while back. I've saved her, and she's saved me; as much as I hated to admit it, when she wasn't playing out her outrageous stage persona, Trixie may even have been the better pony of the two of us. Far more experienced in life, anyway. Although my first priority was uncovering the mystery behind the Giant Weasel Incident, I was secretly looking forward to catching up with the old friend, too. Nothing quite like the impending end of the world to bring ponies together.

An old, decaying bench stood at the mountain's peak, in a clearing that provided a pleasant vista of the town. I figured it'd hold my weight. One by one, the lights started coming on as the Sun sank behind the distant, misty horizon.

My ears fluttered. “Through the darkness of future pranks...” came an ominous chanting from the woods.

“The Trickster longs to see...”

It was usually the case, I'd found, that one heard Trixie before seeing her.

“One chants out between two bagels...”

I jumped from my seat and ran off in the sound's direction. It wasn't far away. Finally, I found Trixie in a small grotto beset by thick, vine-covered trees.

She reared on her hind legs, sticking her front hooves to the sky, dancing above a flickering blue fire. “Weasel!” she yelled. “Walk with me!”

“Trixie?” I called out.

He grin dissolved into a look of terror. She slowly turned to me. “Sparky?”

Then the earth began to shake. Trixie looked back at the dancing flame – which had gone blood red. “What have you done?!” she screamed. “You broke my concentration!”

Storm clouds began to gather above the previously open sky. The air began to rumble, the forest shuddered under a sudden gale wind. Birds flew into the sky and all animals scrambled in panic, screeching and wailing, trampling over one another as they ran.

Trixie took off running as well. “You've done it now!” she yelled, rushing past me into the clearing with the bench. “It was supposed to be a joke! It's just a prank!” For all the adventures we'd been on and all the monsters Trixie and I faced, I'd never heard her scream in utter terror like that.

“What in Tartarus is happening?!” I yelled, hot in her steps. “What did you do?”

“What did you do?!”

An enormous stomp shook the ground, with a force so violent that we both fell. It seemed that the stars and the Moon had all gone out, hidden by the oncoming storm. Below, the lights of Pin Tweaks had disappeared; the world had turned pitch black. Unable to see much farther than my own nose, I couldn't be sure the town was still there at all.

“What happens now, Trixie?”

“Now, Sparky?” she asked.

The crack of thunder shook the world as a bolt of lightning illuminated the mountains for just a moment. Something enormous and dark loomed above us, taller than the mountains themselves, the long hairs on its ears scraping the clouds. Its eyes and bared fangs reflected the lightning's flash.

“Now, Sparky, we pray.”

It was at this time – when I was lost in the darkness at the edges of Equestria, with the Giant Weasel towering above me, when I thought all hope was lost and I'd never see the face of another pony again – that Trixie barged into the library.

“Sparky,” she said, relieved. “I've been looking all over for you.”

She was so old, now. Worry lines drew ridges in her brow, and many wrinkles now covered her once smooth face. The skin under her eyes had gone saggy, but she never lost that youthful power in her gaze.

“Alright, that's oddly flattering,” she said, awkwardly giggling through a grin frozen on her face. “Pray tell what you're doing here at this hour.” She stamped over to me with all the strength her frail bones allowed.

“Oh, I was just telling the kids about how we got together.”

“That's nice, dear,” she said, the corners of her smile twitching. Grabbing the handles of my wheelchair, she leaned a bit closer to the kids and lowered her voice. “Don't believe a word she says after 6 PM. Her mind just leaves town around that time. Now...” She started to push me out of the room. “Now, Sparky sweetie, let's have dinner, alright? I'll get your dentures. It's your favourite Sweet Apple Pie. Then we'll take your medicine and we can go nap-nap.”

I loved nap-nap. Not so much the medicine. It tasted bitter, and bitter was the only flavour I could still feel. It was like I hadn't tasted anything else in thirty years.

“But what about the apple pie?” Trixie asked. “You can taste that, right? Also, you need to stop narrating everything that happens.”

“I like pie.” I liked pie a lot.

Trixie continued pushing me out of the room, the wheels of the chair creaking. Trixie had apparently forgotten to oil them again. She groaned. She planted a hoof in her own face. She stopped right before the door, turning back to the kids for just a moment. “Poor old sap. She's forgotten more about friendship than the rest of us have ever known.”

The biggest question on my mind was, in that moment, just where Trixie was taking me.

“Dinner, dear.”

“Right!” I said. I knew that. I was only checking if she did, too. “What's that book about?”

Her aura wrapped around the door's handle, but fizzed out shortly. She sighed, a trembling hoof combing back her old, grey mane.

“My mane's always been... oh, never mind.”

Not the first time she stopped mid-sentence. Her age has been catching up with her. Poor old sap. With magic so weak, she had to open the door with her own hooves. Then she very carefully eased me over the doorstep, out into the clear Ponyville air.

“Wait, have I told them about the time I became a princess?”

“That never happened, Sparky.”

“I'll tell them anyway!”

Author's Note

(April Fools 2016)

Cardiac Arrest

Twilight Sparkle: Night Shift
Chapter 1:
Cardiac Arrest

Ah, the thrill of the hunt. Surveying your unsuspecting prey, figuring out their every habit, their every move down to the smallest little twitch. You feel as though you were in their place, your heart beating in perfect unison with theirs.

I wasn't always like this. No more than a few years ago, I was leading the quiet life of a small town librarian, content with spending my days reading books and “hanging out” with my friends. But today isn't “a few years ago,” is it? Well, let's just say that a lot has changed since my brother's wedding.

Now I long for the time when you become one with the beast. When the moment is right, when they least suspect it, you leap out from the shadows. You no longer think, you no longer plan; your body acts on its own, and soon, the evil is no more. It's far more ecstatic than any choose your own adventure book I've read in my previous life.

It's a shame I didn't get any of it that night.

Still, this task was as important as any other, mundane as it may have become over time. A mass of bodies waved and curled around me as ponies stepped back and forth, jerking and twitching in harmony with what they considered music. Their exotic definition of dance did, I admit, always strike me as nothing short of awe-inspiring, albeit for all the wrong reasons.

The deafening beats and rapidly flashing lights turned the night club into a unique modern labyrinth. It could have been the perfect place to hide for something like her; amidst the near-on a hundred bodies crammed into such a confined space, it would have been practically impossible to track a single one. Between every flash of neon light, she had ample opportunities to disappear into the brightly lit darkness of the club, popping up and reappearing wherever she chose before fading again. Yet even this would-be game of hide and seek—my last hope for any kind of entertainment that night—was taken away shortly upon entering.

For there she was, standing in plain sight, tending to the equipment that blasted the awful tunes as she whipped her neon-blue mane around: Vinyl Scratch. The vampire DJ's crimes against music I could ignore. Her greater sins, however, I could no longer tolerate. It would have been, shall we say, troublesome to drive an enchanted bolt through her head from the entrance, however. Even I could not predict whether a pony would decide to stick up their delirious head and become a gruesome addition to the disco's decoration had I taken the shot.

Loathe as I might the way they wasted their perfectly good nights, I reminded myself that everything I do was, in the end, for them. Their safety, however hard, must always be guaranteed. Failure in that regard would have destroyed the very point of my visit to great Canterlot.

For the time being, I would keep my crossbow concealed in my bag.

Unwilling to wade through the unrelenting tide that was the dance floor, I made my way around it. Stepping over whatever bile coated the floor of the bar—trampled around by the comings and goings of its visitors until it virtually filmed the discoloured tiles—I closed in on my prey. So many times I had taken this exact same route, and yet still she never saw me coming. Convenient, of course, but at that point I almost wished that she would open her eyes and realise what was about to happen. Had she ever simply dropped what she was doing—loose pun entirely unintentional—and jumped into the shifting sea of bodies right in front of her, the resulting chase would at least have given me that much-needed rush.

She didn't see me, though. Again, I walked right up behind her without receiving so much as a quick peek in my direction. She bobbed her head violently to the beats, her hair and tail whipping back and forth as her body followed the infernal rhythm, lost in her art of destroying art. It seemed a miracle that her trusty sunglasses didn't go flying off across the place with every bang of her head.

I looked around one last time. Dancing and drinking all around; nopony paid any attention to the disc jockey providing them with their peculiar kind of entertainment. So long as their music kept playing, their drug-fuelled haze remained. The world itself could have ended that instant for all they cared.

That was the part when I instinctively slowed down, reaching for my saddlebag carefully, so as not to make a sound as I took out my tools. Although in that specific situation I could barely even hear myself think, this subconscious safety mechanism had saved my life more times than I cared to count, and I wasn't going to abandon it for this pathetic excuse of a job.

Her workstation lit up with purplish light, and Vinyl Scratch finally realised. In that same instant, her mouth was already stuffed with a pretty faceful of garlic. The music played on without its master, and soon we were gone. The white blink of light that accompanied the teleportation went entirely unnoticed among the erratic flashing that filled the club.

My tools lay neatly ordered on the blueish carpet: knives of varying sizes, a bonesaw, a butcher's cleaver, a pulpy mass of half-mashed garlic, a small lump of silver, my crossbow, and five silver-tipped bolts. My worn saddlebag, having fulfilled its duty, was put aside, leaned against a wall.

A gentle slap on her cheek stirred her up from her bulb-induced coma. Her eyes opened lazily and slowly focused on me. In an instant, she jumped up, only to have the straps that bound her hooves jerk her back to the table she had been lying on. I leaned in above her, looking her closely in the eye as she struggled hopelessly to break free. When she realised that she would never tear the bindings, she quickly stretched her neck as far as she could, sinking her fangs into the strap of her upper right hoof.

I watched curiously as she tried to gnaw her way out of trouble like a caged animal, and I made a quick mental note of how fittingly desperate an attempt it was. The moment her tongue touched the thick thread of silvery fabric inside, however, she was forced to abandon her pursuit of freedom. Accepting her fate, she lay back down on her back, looking me spitefully in the eye. I had, for the time being, tamed the beast.

“Oh, Scratch,” I said. “I thought I'd never see you again.”

“Well, you know how things are,” she responded, her raspy voice interrupted only by the intermittent coughs of garlicesque odour. “Some ponies just can't take separation.”

“Tell me about it. For instance, I know this white unicorn with this strange neon-blue mane. I tell her, every single time, that I'll kill her when next we meet, but she just keeps calling me back. She just can't seem to get enough. She's such a rough girl.” I leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Between you and me, I think she likes me.”

“I know!” Vinyl gave me a badly faked smile. “That's totally like this lavender unicorn I know. To be frank, she gives me the creeps. I mean, I've heard she gets around at night, you know what I mean? And I'm like, get off me, you creep, and she's like, no, I want to see you, it's crazy. She's even actually nailed some of my friends. But not me, I say. Not me.”

“Really?” I asked. “Does she keep going back to your friends too?”

“I don't know. Like I care.”

“Has she ever told you why she finds you so special?”

“She has a gigantic stick in her ass for me, that's why. She must have problems with my mane, or something, I don't know.”

“Oh, come on.”

I chuckled heartily as her shades floated up from her head in purple light, landing shortly on a stool by the wall.

“I think it's your beautiful eyes,” I said. “They're simply captivating. Why do you have to wear that horrid pair of glasses all the time? Are you hiding something?”

“Funny thing about that, actually,” she replied, wearing a cheeky grin. “You see, I have this weird thing, you know. If my eyes are subjected to excess light, they kind of burn out. It's like they open a portal to the elemental plane of fire right inside my eyesockets, it's really unpleasant. Allergies, right? Heh, heh—”

Her girlish giggle was cut short by my holding spell. Spectral bindings surrounded her head, and as I began to pull on the ends of the ethereal thread, pressure steadily mounted upon her skull. First, she gave but a small whimper. Soon enough, though, loud groans seeped from behind her clenched teeth. She thrashed about, the table she'd been strapped to jumping up and down with her. In an instant, the binding faded, a purplish mist quickly dispersing around her head.

She gasped for air, shaking her head clear of the pain. “You know I love that. Do it again. Please.”

Her wish was my command. She groaned some more. Then I gave a questioning look, raising an eyebrow.

“Nice place you've got here, by the way,” she said. “I suppose the owners were overjoyed to give you the keys? Just in case you need a place to bring justice upon unholy hellspawn?”

“They're not home right now.”

“Well I'll eat rotten horse apples, I thought they were. Still, I keep imagining what face they'll make when they walk in on us.” She lifted her head what little she could, looking over her bound body before turning her gaze toward me again. “I mean, I'm sure this isn't what they bought their dining table for.”

“Oh, don't worry,” I said. “They're on vacation. They even brought the kids. A family trip, if you will. They were already past Manehattan this morning, and I know for a fact they won't be coming home for about two more weeks. So don't fret. We're completely alone tonight. No distractions.”

“Oh, well, that's a relief.” She rolled her eyes. “Are you also going to raid their fridge, or is that my job? 'Cause I'll have you know that I'm on a very strict diet right n—”

The collision of my hoof and her stomach cut her witty commentary short.

“Come on! We've agreed, I'm a good girl now! Why in the name of Celestia are you doing this? Is this fun to you?”

I gave a piercing look. As much as I enjoyed hunting, no, this wasn't fun to me. Vinyl returned my gaze, accompanied by a snarl, exposing her bare fangs.

“You know, Scratch,” I said, shaking my head. “You've done this four times. That nonchalant look, that who-me? face. This is exactly it. I keep having to come back to you because you never learn.”

“I haven't done squat. I've been behaving. I don't know what you think I did, but I can assure you, it wasn't me.”

“Is that so?”

“Would I lie to you, Twilight?”

“You're making me do this, I hope you know that.”

“Like I asked you to come and tie me down. Like I wanted you to stuff garlic into my mouth. I'm not making you do sh—”

The lump of silver I had prepared flew swiftly into her mouth, silencing her tirade. I watched her struggle, trying to open her tightly shut lips; all in vain, of course, for the spell I cast held them firmly in place. I didn't know, at first, whether this would work; I'd been meaning to try it, but I could never get myself to do it. I kept thinking it would be too cruel, especially for somepony like her. She had crossed the line, however, and now I was determined to see this through.

Her first muffled moans quickly escalated into full-blown screams coming from her closed mouth. Her stomach and throat began convulsing at an increasing rate, rejecting the burning metal. Her entire body throbbed as she shook her head about, unable to tear her own lips open. The table shook and rocked along with her violent battle for her own body.

Her eyes, opened wide, begged me for release. I watched silently as her expression morphed from one grotesque form to the next as the pain mounted. When she wasn't looking at me, she banged her head against the table itself repeatedly, on and on, trying desperately to create another, lesser pain for her mind to focus on.

In the instant following the release of my magical grip, the lump of silver was sent flying across the room as she liberated her mouth of the horrible metal. She turned her head away from me, closing her eyes and sobbing quietly.

“I'm sorry I have to do this,” I whispered. “But you're leaving me no other option. It would be much easier if you began cooperating.”

Vinyl turned her head around slowly and without even lifting it; she just dragged her skin and hair along the wood as her neck rotated. Beneath the wild neon jungle that was her undone hair, I could see contempt incarnate. That disgusted hate upon her face spoke for her without having to say a word. The expression was seemingly frozen onto her face, completely unmoving as if it had been carved in stone.

I shut my eyes, sighing. The lump of silver which she had spat out floated up in the air again, and began making a leisurely flight toward her mouth once more.

“Dear stars, don't do it, please!” she cried out uncontrollably when she saw the descending silver. “I don't know! I honestly don't know! I swear I don't know what I did!”

Her pitiful begging made me open my eyes again and look into hers. There was no sign of the hate they so recently held. All I could see was an expression of pure fear. Disturbing as it was, seeing her shake her head in terror was oddly relieving. The lump of shining metal fell onto the table with a loud clatter, bouncing a few times right next to her eyes.

“You've been feeding on the lowlifes that frequent your club, haven't you, Scratch?”

“Yes!” she yelled, her eyes still fixed in terror on the lump of silver. “Yes I have been. You said they were fair game.”

“They are. Your club is also the number one putrid cesspool of Canterlot.”

“I-I know,” she stuttered, her charred tongue involuntarily flipping about in her mouth between words. “I know it is. Why? W-with the stuff they're on, it's, it's not like they even notice.”

“This isn't just about them, though. You see, we both know they're not the only ones whose blood you suck.”

“Yes! I mean no. No, they're not the only ones, no.” Her gaze shifted rapidly back and forth between me and the silver. “B-but I take all the precautions. All of them. They, they never know. They never know, I do it right, I swear.”

“You still don't get it, do you?”

“No, I can't say I do, Twilight.”

“Let me spell this out for you. Being the freak of nature that you are, you can drink blood all you want with no consequences. You can hardly have too much, and you can't get sick either. Correct?”

“Y-yes.”

“Well, the thing is, your victims can get sick. And they do. You, Vinyl Scratch, are a disease carrier. A walking cesspit filled to the brim with all sorts of horrible pathogens.” I shook my head. “Now, of course, these things get around naturally in your club. If you're careful, nopony there will ever connect you to their illness, whatever it might be.”

“I'm careful. I'm careful!”

“But you're not. I've told you, I've told you this every single time. Yet you refuse to listen.”

“I listen. I do everything by the book. Why do you think I don't?”

“Tell me, have you ever heard of Octavia Melody?”

I could practically see her stolen blood freeze in her veins.

“I have,” she said.

It was coming back to her.

“I've told you. When you decide to feed on anypony, anypony at all, who isn't a regular at your club, you don't rush. You take your time and you prepare. You make sure you won't be seen, and you make sure they won't remember. And before you even think about getting anywhere near them, you do what, Scratch?”

“I wash my teeth.”

“You wash your teeth,” I repeated after her. “You didn't wash your teeth, did you?”

“N-no.”

“And now Octavia, one of the most famous musicians in all of Equestria, is hospitalised with Celestia knows what mixture of illnesses. Not to mention the peculiar marks on her neck. Two little holes right above her artery. I wonder if anypony's going to find that strange.”

Vinyl turned her head to the other side again.

“I screwed up, didn't I?” she whispered.

“That's putting it mildly, Scratch. You've made one hell of a mess. One mess that we will have to clean up, instead of you.”

“I couldn't help myself!” she screamed out, turning back to me. “I couldn't take it anymore!”

“Take what? Free reign over a busy club? That's far more room than any other of your kind has ever been allowed. We are being extremely generous here.”

“No, it's not the club, it's... it's them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They have... bad blood. I needed good blood. Fresh blood, proper blood!”

“If you want us to allow you to feed on nobles, forget it.”

“No, you don't get it! I'm used to the blood of club-goers. Not exactly five stars, right, but it's better than starving, you know? But this blood I've been tasting, it's plain bad. Vile. And anypony could have it. You don't know until you bite. Sick or healthy, on drugs or not, whatever their diet, it doesn't matter. There's so much bad blood. It made me sick. I was desperate.”

“And I think you're making this up to avoid responsibility.”

“No!” She twitched about. “I swear I'm not. It's true. This Octavia mare. She just returned from a tour, yeah? And the way she flaunted her neck with that bowtie....”

“Pray tell, then, if anypony can have bad blood, what made you think she wouldn't?”

“I don't know,” she pleaded. “Instinct, maybe. I just thought, maybe if Canterlot has bad blood, maybe she doesn't since she travels so much.”

“There is no such thing as bad blood!” I snapped.

“There is!” she yelled back. “Please! You have to believe me. I can't explain it to you, but it's true. There's so much bad blood. And I couldn't take it anymore. I got sloppy, yes, but please, you have to understand!”

“You know,” I said, shaking my head and lifting the cleaver I had prepared into the air. “Luna actually wanted to send somepony else tonight. But I volunteered, again, because I've dealt with you. Because I know you. That's the only reason you're still alive.”

The moment she saw the cleaver floating behind me, she started tearing at her bindings again. Try as she might, however, she couldn't break free.

“Please,” she pleaded as she struggled. “Don't do it. I'm telling the truth.” Her voice steadily grew in volume as the blade inched closer and closer above. “I'm telling the truth. I'm telling the truth. I'm telling the truth!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“I didn't want it to end this way, Scratch. You're not a bad pony. But if I let you go again, you might just end up killing somepony. We can't allow that to happen.”

I carefully pulled her head back with another binding spell, stretching her neck. I could see her gulp in fear. How strange, I thought. And here I was thinking that her body no longer produces saliva. In hindsight, it was most likely but an automatic reaction to stress, carried over from her days among the living. Old habits, like vampires, die hard.

“No, wait!”

“Oh, Scratch.” I rolled my eyes. “Don't be such a baby. You've had this coming.”

Wow. Even I didn't know I could be that cruel.

And so it was that a layer of cold steel came to separate Vinyl's head from the rest of her.

The head rolled off the table, landing on the carpet with a small thud. So fascinating, the body of a vampire; even in their death—real death—they strive to retain the precious substance which had kept them in their cursed existence. Blood instantly coagulated on the stub of her neck, as well as the bottom of her head; not a single drop was spilled, not one. Lucky for me. Clean-up would be much less complicated than I had imagined.

I observed the wound with scientific curiosity. A clean cut; the cleaver shot straight through the flesh and bone. The table which I borrowed was, in turn, completely undamaged. I'd become quite good with blades these past few years, and it showed; I cut through her neck like butter, stopping the cleaver right before it hit the wood. By all definition, my work was perfect.

Beautiful as the cut may have been, I would not admire it for long. Vinyl's head flew up in a purple glow to face me. Alas, poor Vinyl Scratch, I knew her well.

That's exactly the reason she didn't end up as a pile of ash.

“...seeing her skin close up as I hoisted the head back onto the stub was amazing. I had read about it in your books, but they could never have prepared me for seeing it with my own eyes. Her flesh sealed in an instant, just like that. Then she got up like nothing had happened, and walked away by herself. Such wonder, a vampire's regeneration.

I cannot put into words how eye-opening this has been for me. I can't thank you enough for allowing me to take up this job.

She knows this was her last chance; Vinyl Scratch is a ghost now. Only in the metaphorical sense, naturally. She won't cause any more trouble, I'm certain of that. Her desperate claims of “bad blood” might be worth investigating, although I highly doubt anything would come of it. Knowing her, she was only trying to lie her way out of trouble, like she had done multiple times in the past. Rest assured, should we ever hear of her again, I will put her down myself.

Your faithful assistant, Twilight Sparkle.”

I rolled the letter up carefully, binding it with an enchanted deep-blue ribbon of the Night Princess.

“Spike,” I called out.

No response.

“Spike!” I called out again.

Soon I could hear tiny feet banging against wooden stairs. In a moment, Spike slammed the bedroom door open, panting and wheezing.

“What is it?”

“Would you send a letter for me?”

The letter floated over to him. He snatched it from the air, and within a second, a small puff of green flames sent it on its way to Princess Luna.

“That's it?” He gave a disgruntled stare. “You woke me up at five in the morning for a friendship report? I thought you set something on fire, or something.”

I chuckled. “No. Just a plain, old, ordinary friendship report.”

A pause.

“What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Really, Twilight? Again?”

“What do you mean, again?”

“You know, I understand you love reading, but really? Studying all night so many times? That's not going to be good for you.”

“Oh, Spike.” I waved a hoof in dismissal. “You worry too much. I sleep enough.”

“I don't think you do, actually. I mean, look at yourself. You look horrible.”

“Hey!”

“No, I mean, right now. Your eyes look like they're about to pop.”

“Well,” I began, my voice growing in strength with every word that followed. “If you didn't spend half your days asleep, Spike, you wouldn't look your best either! I work my flank off every day, every night, and then you come and insult my looks! I mean—”

I stopped mid-sentence, only realising what I was doing when I saw Spike inch towards the door with a genuinely scared expression on his face.

“Gosh, Spike, I'm so sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess the lack of sleep really is getting to me.”

“I can see that,” he said quietly, careful not to upset the insomniac beast inside me again.

“Look.” The curtains of the bedroom window behind me were pulled together by a gentle tug of magic, blocking the light of the dawning Sun. “How about I put everything on hold and just go to sleep right now?”

“Weren't we going to re-rearrange the bottom floor books today?”

“We were. We aren't any more. Today's a day off now.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief. “Really?”

“Really,” I said with a smile.

“Well, in that case...” He rubbed his tiny chin, sporting a plotting grin. “I heard Rarity's working on some dresses today. I'm sure she could use the help.”

“I give you a day off, and you spend it playing assistant to somepony else?”

“Oh, I don't mind. It's Rarity we're talking about, remember?”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, it sounds like you've got somewhere to be, then. Don't let me stop you.”

“And you get a good night's sleep, okay?” He paused for a moment. “Well, a good morning's sleep, I guess.”

“I sure will. Have fun at Rarity's.”

“Oh, I sure will.”

With that, he ran off, giggling with every step and shutting the door behind himself.

Hmm, Rarity, I pondered. She seems so strange lately. Jumpy, even. I wonder what's keeping her up at night....

On a Second Thought, Let's Not Go to Canterlot

Chapter 5:
On a Second Thought, Let's Not Go to Canterlot

A rush of red spurted forth as the skin cracked. White teeth sunk deep into the soft tissue. She savoured the moment, sucking out the sweet nectar from within. She bit onto the piece, torn with near surgical precision, chewing it gently before putting it away for good.

A lone red drop hung from her lips. She lifted a single hoof and picked it off with a sensitive motion, taking care not to ruin the droplet's perfect round shape. She brought the hoof up before her eyes and took a quick glance at the shining bead one last time. She closed her eyes and moved the hoof to her lips again, taking the drop off with a delicate flick of her tongue. Then, opening her eyes slowly, she looked tenderly at me.

For Cadence, even eating a cherry was an act of grace.

I took a look at the cherry, bit in half and floating not far away from her mouth, suspended in shimmering blue light. Then I looked back at the Cadence, returning her warm smile. She took what was left of the cherry in her mouth and softly chewed around the core before placing it on a small paper plate next to herself. It was a curious sight, seeing the whiteness of the plate being driven back by the creeping redness as more and more stems piled upon it.

Laid out on our picnic blanket were fruits galore; from the familiar peaches and apples through grapes and oranges and mandarins to ones from distant lands I didn't even recognise, there was quite a selection to choose from. Yet Cadence seemed only interested in the basket of beautiful cherries right between the two of us. I, personally, was more than flattered by the exquisite hospitality. Still, I had a hard time stomaching any of the delicacies, in light of recent events, and in light of what was to come. Truth is, I was only in Canterlot to speak with Luna. What can you do, though, when you're spotted by the princess-wife of your brother?

The green fields around us were filled with the laughter and cheers of foals and their parents. Not far from our blanket was a solitary tree, standing high and strong, serving as the starting point of a race between a few fillies. The cherry tree blossomed beautifully in the sunlight, its bright pink flowers shaking lightly in the breeze.

I directed my attention towards Cadence again. I felt I had much to say, yet at the same time, I could not say a thing. Too much had happened in the past few years, too much that nopony must ever know. She looked at me with curious eyes, but said no word. Her silence I did not understand, yet at the same time, I was glad for it. We sat there, enjoying the serenity of the Canterlot Park.

The idyllic moment was broken by a loud stomping not far from us. Ah, I thought, Shining Armor has finally arrived.

My brother walked across the field of grass with long, heavy steps. The closer he got, the louder the rattling of his heavy armour sounded. Finally reaching us, he threw himself down beside Cadence with a tired huff. The purple plating covering his torso moved up and down weightily as he heaved. I couldn't blame him; with the heat of the Sun, the interior of that suit of armour must've been boiling. Indeed, I quickly noticed that a sudden emergence of the smell of sweat coincided with my brother's arrival. The reeking odour didn't stop Shining Armor from leaning in to smack a quick kiss on Cadence's lips. After perhaps a split second of careful consideration, Cadence complied. By the time I looked away, it was already over.

“Look who decided to show up,” I said, greeting my brother with a smile.

“I've missed you too, Twily,” he said, lifting his helmet off. “You know I came as fast as I could.” He paused for a bit, looking at me closely. “What happened to your face?”

“My face is quite alright,” I said. Would this scar just heal already?

“She fell down some stairs,” Cadence said. “Don't worry about it.”

Shining raised a hoof and took a breath.

“No, really,” I said, interrupting him before he could speak. “Let's talk about you two instead, not this little scar. Honestly, I'm just glad you could come at all. I thought they heightened security after...” I looked at Cadence, then back to Shining. “Well, you know.”

“Celestia did order that, yes.” Shining leaned a bit closer, shifting his eyes left and right cheekily. “Don't tell anyone, but I've actually been relieved for today.”

“Relieved?” I asked. “That happens?”

“Not normally,” he replied. “It's the Night Guard, you know. Occasionally, they just pop in and take over. Luna's orders.”

“Isn't the Night Guard supposed to be active, you know, at night?” I asked. “Why in Equestria would they take over during the day?”

“Wish I knew!” he chortled. “Frankly, I'm just glad. It gets pretty boring up there.” He waved a hoof at the city walls in the distance. “It might be only a few times a year, but it feels like rapture every time.” He sent a knowing smirk towards Cadence.

Cadence seemed perhaps just a little bit embarrassed, but smiled back regardless.

“Besides,” Shining continued, “they'll be collecting the debt soon enough by making us take the night shift one of these days.”

“Must be quite terrible,” I said. “But why are you still in your armour then? It seems rather uncomfortable.”

“W-well,” he stuttered.

He took a quick glance at Cadence, who only returned a confused look.

“It's, er,” he stammered, “training. I have to keep in shape. Set an example, you know, for the rest of the Guard.”

“A-ha,” I said, giving a slow, uncertain nod. “Well, it's a good sign, I suppose, that they're not afraid of juggling with security like that. I guess things have settled by now.”

“Well, it's been nearly five years,” Shining replied. “That's plenty of time to...” He paused for a moment. “I think we've all managed to get our lives in order by now.”

I wanted to respond, but I didn't know the right thing to say. Judging by the sudden silence, neither did my brother or his spouse. We could try to dance around the issue as much as we desired, but in the end, we all knew what we all pretended not to remember. Almost five years ago, Queen Chrysalis led her changeling spawn against Canterlot, kidnapping Cadence and locking her away in the mines for weeks. A few months afterwards, Shining and I had to deal with our own personal tragedy. Situations like this were the exact reason I avoided seeing Shining or Cadence now.

The basket of cherries floated up between the three of us, glowing blue.

“W-who wants some cherries?” Cadence stuttered, showing an awkward smile.

“Oh, I'll have some of that,” Shining said brightly, turning to her. Then he paused, looking over the blanket. “You're not expecting anypony else, are you? ” He pointed at all the prepared fruits before us, shooting a confused look at Cadence.

“No, no,” she said, “I just got so excited when I saw Twilight. I mean, it's been so long.”

“It's quite alright, Cadence,” I said.

I picked out a ripe green apple from a dish and levitated it to my lips. As I leaned in for a bite, I saw from the corner of my eyes a football flying right for my head. It would have been a hit, had I not ducked. I looked in the direction the ball came from and saw a group of small colts looking our way not too far from us.

“Sorry!” came the high-pitched apology from one of them.

I shook my head to let them know that I disapproved, then turned back to my hosts. Cadence laughed; trying to relieve the tension, I imagined. Then she picked the ball up in her hooves and readied to throw it back for the colts. Right before she did, however, she dropped the ball and cringed, hissing in pain. She bit her lower lip and wrapped her left hoof tightly around the base of her right hoof. Between her intermittent gasps for air and painful hisses, she kept giggling.

“Oh, look at me,” she chortled, “I can't even throw a ball.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked, hopping up.

“It's fine,” Cadence replied. “Really. It's just my fetlock. I...” She paused, giggling tensely. “It's funny, honestly. You fall down stairs, and I hit my hoof on a doorstep the other day. We're a clumsy bunch, I suppose.”

I looked questioningly at Shining Armor. He looked at me, then away immediately and at the offending ball, lying on the blanket. He enveloped it in magic and flung it in the colts' direction. Then he turned to me again.

“It's nothing serious, really,” he said. He then looked at Cadence for a second before continuing. “Well, I didn't think it was.”

He walked up to Cadence and reached for her aching fetlock, but Cadence gently pushed his hoof away.

“It's okay, Shiny,” she whispered. “Really, it is.”

“If you say so,” Shining said, raising an eyebrow as he sat down again.

Have I stepped into the inescapable mire of family matters? I pondered, eyeing my brother and his wife up and down. I don't consider myself an expert on romantic affairs, never have, but something seemed off. They sat in an undefinable distance—too close for friends but too far for lovers.

I wonder what's going on.

I've been called nosy before.

“All those pesky kids, huh?” I asked before finally biting into the apple. “I don't remember the park ever being this lively when I was a filly.”

“Yes, well,” Cadence said, “love is in bloom, right?”

I chuckled. “So how is that starting a life thing working out for you two?”

“That!” Cadence said quickly, as if she had been expecting the question. “It's, well, I...” she stammered, “I mean we, Shiny and I—”

“Our marriage is perfect,” Shining cut in. “She's more than anything I could have asked for.”

Cadence began nibbling nervously on a cherry. I could tell she was trying to stay calm. I could also tell she wasn't doing a good job.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, leaning closer to her. “Don't take this the wrong way, Cadence, but you're being kind of fidgety.”

“Everything is fine,” Shining replied in her place. “You can be certain of that. Isn't that right, Cadence?”

“Yes,” Cadence mumbled. “No!” she then burst. “Everything is not fine.”

Oh dear.

I looked at Shining Armor, but he seemed as puzzled as I was.

“Sorry,” Cadence muttered, covering her face with a hoof. “I just...” She took her hoof off but still didn't look at us. “You know about our trip to Cloudsdale? A few weeks ago?”

“Yes, I heard of that,” I replied. “You and half the Royal Guard visited Cloudsdale. Something about the Grand Galloping Gala? I recall that Luna went as well.”

Ah, the gala. Once a year, every year, all the proudly self-absorbed ponies from across the realm gather together for a night devoted entirely to sucking up to one another. The most prestigious guests receive their invitations from the princesses in person. Among those guests are the haughty pegasus nobles of Cloudsdale. It is said that some of them trace their lineage right back to Commander Hurricane of old.

It is also said that with every invitation these pegasi receive purely on grounds of their heritage, somehow, somewhere, the great commander rolls once in her grave.

Even through her fur, I could see how red Cadence's face was. “You know Celestia asked me to host the gala this year?”

“Of course,” I said. “Between the three of us,” I continued, leaning a bit closer to the couple before me, “I've been doing my absolute best to avoid Canterlot during the time of the gala for the past few years. I think you know what happened last time I attended. But now?” I winked at Cadence. “I'm genuinely excited for it.”

“Bet you are,” Cadence said. “At any rate, in Cloudsdale, I was delivering the invitations the city's nobles. Celestia had taken great care teaching me how to go through the whole procedure beforehand.”

“Go on.”

“I blew it,” she said, giggling to herself. “I totally botched it. In front of all those ponies!” Her giggling escalated into full-blown laughter. “Can you believe that? I can barely sleep because of it.” She turned away, hiding her face with both hooves. “Don't look at me!”

“Really? That really happened?” I chortled, turning to Shining.

“Oh, I led her escort,” Shining said. “I was first in line. Figured she might not want to talk about what happened.”

“You really had me worried there for a minute though,” I said to Cadence jokingly. “The tension was killing me.” I turned towards Shining again, nudging him in the side. “And you, stonewalling like that? Shame on you.”

“Well, what's a good husband to do?” he responded. “Anyway, Twily, why don't you let Cadence take a break? Maybe you could do some answering now.”

I looked at Cadence to see her still cracking up, turned away from us.

I gave in. “Oh fine.”

“So, what have you been up to recently?” Shining asked.

That was one of the many question I didn't want to answer. I didn't even get a chance to try either, as a new voice spoke out from behind me.

“That will have to wait.”

I turned around to see who interrupted us. I gulped involuntarily, for behind me stood none other than Princess Luna herself. She held her chin high, looking down at me with a disapproving stare.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said coldly.

When Luna looked at Cadence, she wasn't laughing any more.

“Princess Cadence,” Luna addressed her as well.

Shining sprung up into a salute, as is proper for a Royal Guard. Without moving her head, Luna looked at him with the same chastising stare. Although it was just past noon on that sunny day, Luna's presence seemed to have brought with itself the cold sting of night. Her deep-blue mane flowed in the breeze, stretching its dark shadow across our meagre picnic blanket.

“Excuse us, Captain Shining Armor,” Luna said. “We require an audience with Princess Cadence.”

Her “request” sounded more similar to a command.

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Shining hastily began, “we—”

Luna shot an impatient look at him, clearly uninterested in what he had to say.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Shining said, bowing his head and taking a step backwards.

I looked at Luna nervously, but she wasn't looking at me. She and Cadence were looking at each other; Cadence seemed frightened, yet resolute. It appeared that they could perfectly understand one another without words. Cadence stood up and began walking away, and Luna soon followed her with long, calm steps.

I did not know what had just happened. What I did know was that I wanted to find out.

“What was that about?” I whispered to Shining as the princesses left.

“Cadence has been spending quite a lot of time with Luna recently,” he answered. “Luna usually isn't so invasive about it, though.”

“But why?” I asked.

“It's because of what happened before our wedding,” he said. “Luna's helping her process all of that, or so Cadence says. Especially now, with the gala coming up. She tries not to show it, but she's been incredibly stressed these days.”

“I noticed. Yet I don't think tearing her away from her family like that is at all helpful.”

“Neither do I.” He shook his head slightly, looking towards Luna and Cadence, quite a distance away now. “But what can you do?”

Funny, because that's exactly the question I've been asking myself, albeit with a little less resignation and a little more willingness to actually take action. What can I do?

“Hey kids!” I shouted over to the foals playing nearby. “We're going now, and we're leaving all of this food completely unattended!”

“Twilight?” Shining asked. “What are you doing?”

I saw the foals' little eyes light up as they exchanged shifty looks among themselves. I turned back towards my brother.

“I'm doing something,” I said, “that's what I'm doing.”

I didn't wait for him to respond. Instead, I quickly ran up to the two princesses, easily catching up with them and leaving my brother behind. I trotted up next to the Night Princess. She turned her head just enough to be able to look at me from the corner of her eye.

“We will see you at midnight,” she stated plainly.

For all his bravado, Shining Armor knew his place. He wouldn't come with me, not daring to upset Princess Luna. It's only the immortal Princess of the Night. Some husband you are, brother.

I made no pretence; I was following the two princesses as they walked the streets of Canterlot. I knew that they knew. Or at least, Luna did. As a form of courtesy, I did give them some room, paying attention to stay a good distance behind them, close enough to keep my eyes on them but far enough not to hear their words. That latter part didn't matter, at any rate, since they weren't talking at all.

They walked forward at a steady pace. Cadence kept a short step's distance ahead of Luna, who followed by her right. Cadence hung her head and kept her ears pulled back. Sometimes, she moved her head slightly to the right, as if turning towards Luna, but then quickly looked straight forward again. She looked like she was intending to say something; something she couldn't quite muster the courage to speak aloud.

I couldn't blame her, for I recognised the way Luna walked beside her. Luna still had her head held high, and her steps, graceful as they were, still showed a certain kind of authority and power. Cadence clearly was in no mood for the forced march. Luna was herding her. Not by words or threat of punishment, it seemed; merely hearing the forceful impact of the Night Princess' hooves behind you was motivation enough for anypony to keep moving. No wonder that Cadence dared not turn her head.

I expected that their way would lead to the Canterlot Palace, yet after a few “wrong” turns, I realised that I was, in fact, wrong. The two of them were headed for the city's residential area, the same place were I was raised before moving to Ponyville. I still have fond memories of the tall, white towers. As a foal, just climbing the high staircases that spiralled upwards around them to get home was an adventure in itself.

What I noticed was the distinct lack of your usual Canterlot guards. Normally, there would be one or two posted on every corner, and a few patrolling the streets. Most ponies at Canterlot had grown used to this by now, as since the changeling attack, the safety of the city was guarded ever more vigilantly.

This was why the Night Guards, who now stood beside the streets and doors, were an interesting sight. Just as Shining had said previously, they seemed to have taken over for the regular guards, at least for today. Interestingly, none of the other ponies on the streets seemed to be fazed by this fact. Or, perhaps, they just thought it'd be impolite to stare. Indeed, the distinctive scaly manes and bat-wings of the Night Guard were a most unusual sight to behold this close to midday.

My questioning looks towards the Night Guards were returned wordlessly with condescending stares. In fact, I was pretty sure that most of them were watching me. Luna mustn't be pleased with my unabashed presence here.

The pair of princesses stopped, and so did I in turn. Luna prodded at Cadence's side gently, and looked upwards at one of the residential towers. Cadence looked as well, seemingly at the same spot. Luna said something I couldn't make out and turned towards Cadence. Cadence then looked down, and after a while, back up again. Then she nodded with an exaggerated motion, hanging her head afterwards.

A door then slammed open on the tower that the princesses were looking at. Out rushed two Night Guards, carrying what looked like a large trunk between them, each biting onto a handle on either side. The trunk seemed heavy, almost as big as a pony in its size. The two then flew up into the air as the door closed behind them. They passed over the streets, right above us, and seemed to be headed for the mountainside.

I was absorbed by the sight, trying to make sense of it all. When the two Night Guards disappeared behind the rocky formations of the mountain, I looked back towards the princesses.

Cadence had pressed her head against Luna's neck, and Luna laid her own head onto hers, extending a wing with which to pull the younger princess closer. Gone was the iron-willed ice queen that Luna seemed to be before, and now instead she hugged Cadence close. Is Cadence crying? I couldn't tell.

All I knew is that I grew curious. When the pair of princesses left—Luna keeping Cadence under her wing, both figuratively and literally—I made my way to the apartment they had been looking at. I quickly ascended the spiral staircase and soon I was standing before the closed door.

On every door of the residential district, a small sign in ornate lettering designated the owner of each apartment. This one read “Aurora Iris.” A unicorn, no doubt, probably of the Canterlot high-class.

I hesitated a second before knocking. I was acting solely on instinct, with no idea as to what I actually meant to accomplish. Remembering Omen's words, I guess, I felt the need to check this out. I had to admit, the sudden changing of the Royal Guard to Luna's private force was reason for suspicion.

I needed to prove Omen wrong.

I knocked, long and persistent, but nopony came to answer the door. I heard the sound of many hooves walking about inside, and the noise of the wet splashing of rags and mops; whoever was inside, if they were going for the “nopony's home” act, they weren't very good at it.

Leaning closer to the door, my nose was pierced by the unmistakable, pungent odour of purifiers and detergents wafting outside.

No matter how long and hard I knocked, however, the door never opened.

“So, how did you deal with those no-gooders?” I asked, teasing him with a smile.

“W-well...” he stammered, choking and gulping as he forced his voice to the surface through his increasingly lazy mouth, each word less comprehensible than the last. “I, f-first I took that, the big one out,” he hicced, “jush' one kick, I tells you. Down he went!” He then proceeded to mimic the sounds of struggle using his tongue and lips, squirting spit with every imaginary punch.

It was not amusing.

I was once again in the Mental Ward. No, not an actual one; it was the name of the night club where I knew the vampire Vinyl Scratch worked. Although, let it be said, I keep thinking that I may very well end up in a real asylum if I ever spend more than a few minutes in that place.

The club could afford but one lonely security guard—or perhaps they simply decided to spend that money elsewhere—and even he was of the lower quality. So low was his quality, in fact, that he let himself get completely drunk while on duty. This pride of security guards was my ticket through the door that leads into the back rooms.

He simply couldn't help but fall victim to my ladylike charms.

He stood by the door in question, holding onto his consciousness just enough to put the moves on me. I leaned on the wall, by his side, trying my hardest to look interested.

“Do go on,” I said flirtatiously in his ear, levitating another drink to his mouth.

Granted, the only reason I leaned so close to that walking mass of sweat and alcohol was because otherwise the disco-music would have drowned out all of my words.

He took a quick sip. “An' then there was the, then there was the small 'un, right?”

“How small was he?” I asked, offering a wide smile.

“Well, smaller than me, 'fyou know what I mean.” The guard smiled proudly.

The corners of my mouth dropped lower involuntarily, my smile getting that little bit closer to a snarl. I fought with every last one of my remaining braincells to stop myself from planting a hoof in my face with the fury of a thousand suns. I walked straight into that one, though, I had to admit.

“No, really,” I squeezed the words though my tightly clenched teeth, “how small was he?”

“Right 'bout...” He leaned forward, kneeling down before me. “This small.”

“Whoops!” I said as I accidentally kicked one of his shaky hooves out from under him.

His head came crashing down.

“Sorry,” I pleaded.

I don't think he heard my apology, though. The one solitary security guard was out cold on the floor, and nopony in the club cared. Don't you just love this place?

I opened the door and quickly walked into the backspace of the club. With a sturdy door and concrete walls separating me from the main dance floor, I could finally hear myself think. I sighed in relief.

I made my way through the narrow back-corridors, looking for the door labeled “Vinyl Scratch.” Seeing how it was past 10pm, and she wasn't out there DJing, I knew she would have to be in her dressing room.

I opened her door.

Inside, there were a number of curious things. There was a dressing table complete with a fancy mirror; why a constantly naked vampire would need such a thing was beyond me. There was a smaller desk, and a chair by an open window. Sitting upon that chair was the familiar white-coated, neon-maned DJ looking at me with eyes wide.

We locked eyes. Once that short moment passed, and Vinyl's dead brain computed who her uninvited guest was, she sprung from her seat and leapt for the window. She collided with the glass as it was violently slammed on her in a purple glow. The wooden windowpane cracked, the glass shattered, its shiny shards shredding Vinyl's head. The impact forced her to fall clumsily back onto her rump. She sat there, slouching as she faced the now-closed and broken window, rubbing her head with a hoof and hissing in pain. The cool night air seeped into the otherwise warm room through the ruined window.

Through all the times I've had to deal with that terrible excuse for a monster, I'd grown used to her twitch reflexes. The art of escape had, indeed, always escaped Vinyl Scratch.

“Relax,” I said, kicking the door closed behind myself. “I'm not here to pass righteous judgement unto you.”

“What?” Vinyl asked as she turned towards me, her raspy voice carrying a mix of genuine surprise and utter confusion.

“Really,” I said. “I'm off duty. Not on an assignment. This isn't a business-related visit.”

Vinyl stood up, shaking a few shards of glass out of her mane. Her white fur was spotless; not a single drop of blood had been spilled when the window collapsed on her.

“Although,” I added, “your profound desire to flee at the very moment of my arrival does make me wonder. Have you been a good girl lately, Scratchie?”

“Well, actually—” she began as a nervous smile crept onto her face.

“Don't answer that,” I interrupted. “See? I don't care. Calm down.”

“To what do I owe the honour then?” she asked. “Because you know, this really isn't the right time.”

“And I have an appointment with the Princess of the Night,” I replied. “I intend to make this quick, don't worry about that. Besides, you can't be that busy. I'm sure the riff-raff in the club can bear their favourite DJ being a few more minutes late.”

“It's not them, Twilight,” she responded, looking out the broken window for a moment. “I-I have obligations,” she stammered. “Responsibilities!”

“What kind of responsibilities could you possibly have, Vinyl?”

“Vampire responsibilities. So please, if you would be so kind as to leave, I'd greatly appreciate it.”

I pulled the chair towards myself with a spell and made myself comfortable. “Allow me to get right to the point, then. I have a question to ask. I've come to you because you're the only pony I know that could help me.”

“Well that just raises a whole lot of questions,” she said. “First and foremost, why should I help you?”

“Maybe because I've been so nice to you, reattaching your head that last time, and all?” I smiled innocently.

“Get out,” she answered, pointing at the door.

I crossed my legs.

Vinyl gave a tired sigh. “You sure this can't wait?”

Considering that I'm about to meet my very angry boss with memory-erasing powers....

“Probably not,” I said.

“But this really isn't—”

Before she could finish, a cold breeze swept into the room. The sudden chill made me shudder; Vinyl seemed completely unfazed. I looked towards the broken window. Through the empty, broken panes, a barely visible greyish mist began pouring inside like some sort of liquid. When Vinyl saw this, her expression changed from frustrated to one of fright.

“No, no!” she yelled as she watched more and more of the mist flow into the room. “Don't, don't do that now, gosh! Can't you see?” She then pointed towards me, looking at the mist quickly collecting along the floor.

The mist seemed to be guided in a very deliberate path as it crawled across the floor. The mist crept under and between Vinyl's hooves and began moving in my direction. I instinctively stood up, bucking the chair to the side before taking a step back. The mist stopped halfway between the two of us, though, and as the last patches of it entered the room in one continuous stream, it began swirling in place. The strange cloud of mist then rose from the ground, to a height roughly matching mine.

The cloud's shape was amorphous at first, bobbling and spouting towards all directions seemingly at random. In a moment, though, it began forming into a very recognisable shape. The light contours of a pony began appearing in the mist. At first, it was four slender legs, followed by the shapely curves of a delicate mare's torso. The head was the last to be formed.

Long, dark mane sprouted from the mare's head and neck, falling gently down behind her neck as the last patches of the mist disappeared. When she opened her purple eyes to fix them on mine, my jaw could really have hit the floor. I recognised the grey-coated mare now standing between Vinyl and me.

“Octavia Melody?” I asked, still agape.

“Simply Octavia will do,” she replied, smiling. Her voice was confident, and at the same time uncannily soft.

The last I had heard of Octavia, the famous cellist was in critical condition after a nasty vampire bite. It was Vinyl Scratch's bite, right after that vapid waste of vampirism bit her without proper preparation. Octavia had been injected with an unholy mixture of bloodborne diseases, courtesy of the lowliest dumps of Canterlot; Vinyl's usual playground.

It took me a moment to process what I had just witnessed. How could she be here? I closed my mouth, then my eyes, and then I shook my head clear.

I turned towards Vinyl. “Please don't tell me you actually sired her.”

“N-no!” Vinyl snapped. “No way! It doesn't work that way, you know? If everypony we bit turned into a vampire, there'd be no ponies left by this point. Seriously!”

“And,” Octavia said, shifting her gaze to Vinyl as well, “I believe you've been made aware of the penalty that unauthorized siring brings with itself.” She blinked once at her. “Isn't that right?”

For a moment, Vinyl looked blankly at Octavia. Then she quickly looked over to me. “Y-yes!” she stuttered, trying to contain her shaking. “Yes I have been. Really, I'm not even prepared to do that, like, mentally.” She lifted a hoof and circled it around beside her head a few times. “It's not worth seeing a sunrise, believe me.”

Octavia turned to me again. “Miss Vinyl speaks the truth. You may or may not already be aware, but it would have been impossible for her to sire me.”

I raised an eyebrow. Bringing in an unruly vampire and her unsolicited offspring would surely sway Luna away from that Code Blank...

“Explain,” I said.

“Well...” Octavia began calmly.

A sudden draft of cold air burst from where Octavia stood; in the same instant, her form dissolved into mist once again. Before I could react, the cloud was already behind me.

“She can't do this, now can she?” Octavia asked, laying a hoof—solid once again—on my back before I even turned around.

“She can also turn into a wolf,” Vinyl said. “It's pretty cool.”

It was then that I remembered. Vampires have different castes, bloodlines—or clans, as they refer to them—and reproduce accordingly. Vampire politicking had always been rather too confusing for my tastes, however. Since I only ever was tasked with dealing with the lowest and youngest of them—such as Vinyl Scratch—I never bothered to get too involved.

Octavia casually walked around me, taking her place at Vinyl's side. I looked at the former.

“You're one of the...” I scratched my head. “The Voradors, correct?”

“Devorador,” Octavia corrected. “Shapeshifters.” Then she pointed at Vinyl. “And she is of Nupraptim descent, with powers over the minds of others.”

“Yes, I've been briefed extensively on her abilities,” I responded. “She never used her vampire powers on me, though.”

“Believe me, I've tried!” Vinyl retorted.

“It's her age,” Octavia added with a sleek smile, baring her fangs. “It also has to do with your own resistance to magic. If what I hear is true, you are truly an extraordinary mare.”

“What do you know about me?” I asked.

“Oh, Miss Vinyl's told me much about you, Twilight Sparkle.”

I glanced at Vinyl. She was looking towards Octavia, and although no words escaped her lips, she was quickly waving a hoof in front of her neck. I decoded her body language as “cut it out, damn it!”

“All good, I hope?” I asked.

Octavia chuckled. “Of course. She's told me of your most recent run-in with her as well. That was awfully nice of you, by the way, reattaching her head.”

“Thank you,” I said. “See, Vinyl? At least somepony appreciates my work.”

Vinyl moved a forehoof about in the air, looking away and frowning, and making an agitated “nyeh-nyeh-nyeh” sound.

“Pay no attention to her,” Octavia said.

“I never do,” I said. “Do tell me then, Octavia, how did this happen?”

“Well, I was dying, as you no doubt know. I remember waking up briefly in the hospital. Then the next thing I remember is lying on a cold thing, like an operating table. But I clearly wasn't in the hospital any more.”

“Where were you?”

“Princess Luna called it Containment. I was delirious, though. Most of it is a blur.”

“Go on.”

“The princess visited me in a fever dream. She told me everything. That I'd been bitten by a vampire, that I was going to die. She said she wouldn't let me die. So she offered me this, and, well, the rest is history.”

“Who sired you?”

“Luna arranged it, or so I'm told. She keeps in touch with the eldest of all clans.”

“And you accepted this, just like that?”

“Ponies make some strange choices when faced with death, Miss Twilight.” Octavia took a deep breath. I assumed it was out of habit, since she needed no air to live now. “I never wanted fame anyway. I enjoyed playing the cello, and all the celebration I received was an unintended side effect that I just... put up with. When I got a chance to leave all that behind, to be able to simply play in secret, I couldn't possibly say no.”

“And I bet,” Vinyl said, “sucking on the blood of innocents sounded rather tantalising.”

“Well, no, I take no pleasure in that,” Octavia said. “And I'm going to miss watching a sunset from time to time. Still...” She looked back at me. “Immortality isn't such a bad deal.”

“Heck yeah, immortality!” Vinyl burst. “You should totally see her sire! The guy's ancient. I heard Luna actually knew him before the whole Nightmare Moon fiasco.”

“Is that true?” I asked Octavia.

“Well,” she responded, “that really isn't for me to say. All I know is that I'm here now, and that Miss Vinyl had been tasked with... teaching me.” She sighed. “Although, I already think it's mostly the other way around.”

“Vinyl, really?” I asked. “Why on Equestria would they pick you?”

“Oh, thanks for all the trust and faith you have in me,” Vinyl said. “Truth is, Octy's sire said he was too preoccupied right now and went on to remind me of a favour I owe him. It's a long story.”

“And I'm sure it's a fascinating one,” I said. “But I really don't have much time.”

“Oh, right, because interviewing us wasn't enough,” Vinyl said.

“It's quite alright,” Octavia said. “What did you want, Miss Twilight?”

“I came here to ask Vinyl a question, as I'd been saying. But I wouldn't reject your assistance either, Octavia.”

Octavia nodded. “Of course.”

“Whatever,” Vinyl said.

“Can you tell me anything about a pony called Aurora Iris?”

Octavia shrugged, turning to Vinyl. “A local, I presume?”

Vinyl stroked her chin. “If that'll get you to leave. Yes, I know her. Kind of a lonely gal. Hung out a few times in the club with a couple of friends, on and off throughout the past year or so. She never really seemed to get much into it, though.”

“Either you have exceptional memory,” I said, “or there was something special that made you remember this quiet girl so quickly and so well.”

“Her blood was terrible,” Vinyl answered. “Like burnt juice. I gotta remember those.”

Bad blood....

“When did you last see her?” I asked. “It's important.”

“I don't know. Last week, maybe?” She shrugged. “I think it was last week. She seemed desperate. Begging to be picked up, you know? Then she just yelled at everypony that offered her a drink, real banshee-like.” She rolled her eyes. “Weird chick.”

“Did her blood always taste like that?”

“I only tasted it once, when I first saw her way back when. And she looked so nice too.”

Perhaps...

“Octavia...” I turned to her. “Tell me, what do you know about this bad blood business?”

“I've never tasted it myself,” she replied, “but I've only ever fed a few times, and only from the ones that Miss Vinyl had so thoughtfully picked for me.”

Hmm...

“Vinyl, can you do me a favour?” I asked.

“What?” she asked back with a sigh.

“Keep an eye out for this Aurora Iris, would you? Not just at the club. If you see her anywhere....”

“Why should I?”

“To earn brownie points with Night Shift. Believe me, you need them.”

Vinyl grumbled something in response.

“I'm sure she'll consider,” Octavia said in her place.

“I see.”

I turned around and put a hoof on the doorknob.

“There is something important I must see to now,” I said. “I'll leave you to your business.”

The door creaked open. Before stepping outside, I couldn't stop myself from saying one more thing.

“I might not return.”

It was well past midnight. The Night Guards patrolling the Lunar Wing of the palace let me through every door and gate without a word. Luna's study was atop the highest tower of the wing; I made my way up the long, steep staircase that spiralled inside. While my eyes were used to the torches and magical glows that illuminated the rest of the palace at night, now I saw no artificial lights of any kind. The only light within the tall tower was what seeped in through the small, narrow windows, each reminiscent more of those in stone fortresses and strongholds of ages long past, rather than the golden-gilded Canterlot Palace.

Everything was quiet. I knew I was running late. I had always hated being late. Yet this time—perhaps understandably so—I felt a certain sense of sadness that made me walk slower with each step. In the relative darkness of the seemingly endless stairwell, it was as though the night itself spoke to me. No, more than that; it was singing. The silence sang a sad song. The higher I walked, the quieter the night became. The quieter the night became, the clearer it sang.

Two guards stood at the top of the stairwell, looking down into the darkness from where I ascended. They made no eye contact as I walked past them, opening the door behind them.

Luna's study was a single, spacious room with not much in the way of furnishing. To the right, there was a simple bed; to the left, there was an even simpler desk. A few parchments lay disorganised upon it, and star-charts and other maps were hung upon the wall above. A tripod and telescope were leaned against the wall nearby. On the bare stone of the floor, I saw protractors, rulers, compasses, and many other measurement tools scattered about. At the far end, directly in line with the entrance, was a large opening that led to a wide balcony. Luna sat out there in the moonlight, her back turned towards me, her head hanging low.

I made my way out onto the balcony. Luna spoke before I reached her, still turned away from me.

“Am I not good enough, Twilight Sparkle?”

The ominous question I could not answer. I assumed—I hoped—that she didn't want me to.

“Do I not try my best?” she asked again, her head still down.

I sat by her side. She moved her head, looking at me for a moment. Then she moved her head up and stared at the stars. It seemed like she was about to cry. Perhaps she already had.

“I spend my waking hours, night after night,” she continued in a melancholic monotone, “doing everything in my power to keep them safe. You know that, don't you?”

I couldn't guess what Luna meant with her question. Unsure what to do but take it at face value, I nodded in silence.

“Tell me,” she said as she turned to me, “why does Night Shift exist?”

This question, now, I could answer.

“To protect those who sleep at night, and to guide the ones who don't,” I said.

“Why can't they know about us?”

“If they knew what stalks them in the shadows, they might not dare to sleep or venture forth.”

“You recite the poetic passages easily,” Luna said. “But do you know what they mean?”

“What do they mean?”

“I cannot afford to let my subjects fear the night. I must protect them, no matter the cost.”

“Is it true, then, about Octavia?” I asked carefully.

“I couldn't let her die,” she answered with unexpected blatancy. “Nightmare Moon has committed many crimes. No more.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “That, Twilight Sparkle, is why Night Shift exists.”

There was silence for a while, until I mustered the courage to speak again.

“What happens now?” I asked the inevitable question.

“I am a princess of my word, Twilight Sparkle.” Luna turned to me, indecision in her gaze. “Yet I love you, possibly more than I've ever loved any of my subjects. I owe my life to you.”

She sighed deeply, turning away again before continuing.

“But now you've done what must never be done. You've broken the code, and that breaks my heart.”

“I know the consequences.”

“What would that say about me, then?” She looked at the stars, as if asking for advice. “If I let you go, I have failed as a princess. If I don't, then I have failed as your friend.” She then looked at me, and I could feel her gaze weighing down on me. “You've put me in a very hard position, Twilight.”

“If it may help your decision, princess, I believe I have proven myself an able agent by getting the living dead under control a few nights ago.”

“Yes, I know all about that. It would have been hard not to notice your unique shipment to Containment.”

“I collect that there was—” I paused.

I have to tell her everything. I found Rainy Day, and Omen. And all the things he said....

“I collect that there was meant to be another operative there, to handle the matter in my place. I only found the letter, though.”

My curiosity wouldn't let me.

“I have been contacted by that agent since,” Luna responded, “and you're right. You have proven yourself, as you have time and time again in the past.”

“Does it not help my case, then?”

“On the contrary.”

“I see.”

I sat silently for a moment.

“And what about Rarity?” I asked. “She promised never to mention what happened, to me or anypony else.”

“You care greatly for your friends,” Luna said. “I respect that in you, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Will you let her go?” I asked.

“My word binds me,” she answered.

The gravity of those words sunk in slowly. “But she—”

Luna held up a hoof, silencing me.

Well, it is only just a day or two for her....

I took a deep breath. Then I stood up, stepping behind Luna. She, in turn, stood up as well and turned around to look at me. I lifted my head and stood straight, looking the princess dauntlessly in the eye.

And for me, I always knew it would end like this. I had made peace with the fact a long time ago.

“Is that what you wish, Twilight?”

“Yes.”

At least I thought I did.

“I can't help but ask something before you do it, however,” I added hastily.

Luna spread her wings wide, blocking out the light of the moon from me. Her visage held no joy, only an expression of grim resignation. From behind the white of her eyes, a bright glow began emanating. Her iris darkened, turning dark blue, nearly black. Her horn glowed dark blue as well.

“What would that be?” she asked, holding the spell.

“I saw your Night Guards take something from an apartment today. What was it?”

Luna's eyes widened. Whether this was part of the ritual or merely out of surprise, I couldn't tell. She did not answer my question.

“I won't remember, princess,” I said. “I want to know. I want to know if the rumours are true.”

“Explain,” Luna commanded. Her voice resonated with both anger and sadness.

“It is said that you're involved in murder,” I stated. “That my parents were the beginning of a long list of victims.”

The white glow of her eyes was blinding me now, and the pitch-blackness of her dilated pupils seemed a pair of all-devouring black holes. As I felt her magic grip my head and body, I kept looking into her eyes with an unbroken stare. At that point, I knew I couldn't look away if I tried.

I felt her soul press against the walls of my mind. The light rushed in through the cracks.

“If you don't answer this,” I spoke at the edge of consciousness, “then realise this: I will go in the knowledge that it is all true.”

I couldn't see anything now, only the light. I couldn't feel the floor under my hooves, and I couldn't hear the sound of wind on the balcony.

“What if I find Night Shift again?” I asked. At least I think I did. “Or are you going to make me forget that I had parents?!”

In an instant, the light was gone. I fell down, finding myself once again on Luna's balcony. My head hurt, but as I came to my senses, I realised that my memories were intact.

I stood up again and looked at Luna. She was taking deep breaths, waiting a few seconds before exhaling each one. Her eyes, now their normal colours, twitched as they looked at me, and she snarled in barely contained rage.

“You are a deceitful mare,” came her shaking voice. “You've changed much.”

“You have not answered my question, princess.”

“It is all lies!” she snapped. “To suggest that I would—”

She turned away, groaning from behind gritted teeth.

“Of course,” I answered. “It's insane, isn't it?”

“Insane!” she cried, turning to me again.

Then she closed her eyes, resuming the deep breaths. In hindsight, perhaps accusing the princess of murder wasn't a bright move.

“What shall I—” I tried to ask.

“Be gone,” Luna whispered, her eyes still shut. “We will grant you a new assignment by morning,” she said between two breaths. “One that will take you far away from here. Do not return to Canterlot unless called.”

“I—”

“Go!” she yelled, opening her eyes.

I took the earliest train back to Ponyville in the morning. I watched the spires of Canterlot shrink in the distance as the train rolled out of the mountain range.

It's such a silly place, anyway, I thought to myself.