Population: One

by Trials

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Tragedy, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 23401

It's been eighty-nine days since the Day of Darkness, and Twilight Sparkle is still on her own. Eighty-nine days since she talked to anyone other than herself.

It's been eighty-nine days since the Day of Darkness, and Twilight Sparkle is still on her own. Eighty-nine days since she talked to anyone other than herself. Regardless of how lonely she feels, she prefers the company of herself to the vicious "lurkers", as she calls them, roaming around outside of her library. Whatever friendly, loving creatures they were before the Day of Darkness, something changed them. Something created these insane creatures, and nothing, not even Twilight, can stop them. All Twilight can do is live — live to fight another day.

Published 2012-12-27 22:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-01 22:50:47 UTC

Same Old, Same Old

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Population: One

By Trials

Proofread by Fluttrick

Special thanks to Alondro and Amit

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Chapter 1: Same Old, Same Old

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Well, same old, same old.

It's been eighty-nine days since the 'Day of Darkness', as I've taken to calling it. Eighty-nine days on my own. Eighty-nine days since I've last talked to anyone other than myself. It's been strange, I have to admit, and it's obviously going to continue being strange — today is, as I've previously mentioned, the same old, same old. Eighty-nine days ago, I wouldn't have been saying that, but here we are: eighty-nine days in the future.

Oh, by the way, I've taken to calling them 'days', because I've been measuring time in twenty-four hour periods. That used to be the same as normal days, I'll grant you that, but there are no longer any days. Literally. That's where the name: “Day of Darkness” comes from, because all I've seen from that day forth is darkness. A 'day' would suggest sunlight, you'd think, but this one proved differently. In fact, give me a moment.

Yup, just looked outside again. It's still dark.

Anyway, eighty-nine days ago, it was a normal day in Ponyville. Well, I say: 'normal' — my definition of the word has slightly changed over the past months. As far as I know, it was a normal day in Ponyville. Let's just say that. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and everyone seemed... well, normal. Not mutated. Not vicious shadows of their former selves, but just normal ponies.

I vaguely remember searching for a book, here in the library, when there was an explosion of black, pulsating energy darting through the sky. Even though I was obviously occupied finding a book, it was still pretty eye-catching. Before long, I grew faint. Whatever the pulse was, it messed with my head, and I simply couldn't think straight. When I woke from the unconsciousness state I must've fell into, it was dark outside.

“Well, that's just normal. Must be night,” I remember telling myself. I paid the darkness no mind, but it soon became apparent that I was wrong to do so. As I waited for the dawn that never came, it never occurred to me that some sort of catastrovent might have happened. Oh, yes, 'castastrovent'. Just a hybrid word I made up, combined with “catastrophic”, and “event”. Means what it sounds like: a catastrophic event. Don't judge me — as the last pony in Ponyville, I reserve the right to create words. In fact, let me just write that in my handy, dandy dictionary.

There.

Anyway, so after the first few days, I began to realise something was off. The electricity, for one, which I never needed in the first place, anyway, but the whole where-is-everypony and oh-Celestia-why-is there-no-light thing. Even Spike wasn't around, which was odd, seeing as though he usually followed me around like some form of little, lost lamb. Seriously, it was still dark outside, and I couldn't see a single pony. Wait, just give me a second.

Nope — still dark, and I still can't see a single pony.

So, after a couple of days of this, I grew curious. I ventured outside in search of company; in search of an answer, but I found neither. Instead, I found something else entirely. Something that should've stayed in the darkness there, and should never have been discovered. Something that makes me keep a constant lock the doors, windows and any other entrances into this very library.

Something that I once recognised, but no longer could.

“Damn it!” Twilight Sparkle said. She shook the quill vigorously, attempting to squeeze out any unused ink. “Out of ink,” she confirmed with a sigh. The unicorn glanced around the candlelit room. “You'd think that, in a library,” she said, “there'd be more ink.” Twilight had already found the hidden ink stashes, even the ones behind the books, but she was now completely out. Another thing to add to the insurmountable list of supplies she needed to get.

Twilight turned to write “ink” on said list, but remembered her inability to do so. “Oh, the irony,” she mused. With a flick of her hoof, Twilight threw the quill away. There was simply no use in a quill without ink, at least not until she got some more.

Twilight was, as she liked to think, an academic pony. Despite the obvious changes in the recent months, what, with the catastrovent and all, she'd still managed to keep up her studies. Hygiene and looks may have, perhaps, fallen by the wayside, but at least there were no ponies around to judge her. For some reason, the darkness had worsened her vision, forcing her to wear a pair of studious-looking glasses in front of her lavender eyes. Twilight didn't really care, as she normally had to wear them when reading, anyway.

After all Twilight been through, she'd managed to keep some form of journal, in which she'd write about any thoughts or experiences she had encountered. It wasn't for any beneficial purpose; it was just something to keep her somewhat sane — something even she had to admit was pretty damned hard. Until day eighty-nine, today, Twilight had had enough ink to satisfy her interests, but now it was all gone.

“Well, there's only one thing for it,” she said. “I had to go out and get some food, anyway.” Since the Day of Darkness, Twilight had found the company of herself rather hospitable — especially as she was the only one able to talk back. Instead of talking to no-one, not allowing herself to share the... different experiences Twilight had seen and heard, she talked to herself. Without a doubt, the mare would've gone insane, or at least a little more insane than she already was, if she refused to do so.

Twilight reached for her coat, threw it over her and put the hood over her head. She placed the saddlebags onto her back carefully, tightening the straps accordingly. With a quick peek, she confirmed the correct contents of them. Twilight took a deep breath before opening the numerous locks on the doors. The pony had to be quiet, else the lurkers would be on her in an instant. As the fourth and final lock opened, she pushed the door with a shaking hoof. Twilight glanced around Ponyville, making sure no lurkers were hiding around the corners.

“Lurkers” was what Twilight called them. She'd only encountered them a few times, but that was a few times too many. Strange creatures, she noted, as they'd somehow evolved to live in the constant darkness. “Evolved” was the key word there — for some reason, on the Day of Darkness, all the inhabitants of Ponyville, besides herself, of course, turned into these “lurkers” overnight. Twilight didn't know why she was the only one left, or why everyone changed, for that matter. Perhaps in her unconscious state she'd managed to evade some form of transformation in the black energy she saw on that day. It mattered not, for she was alive, and the others less so.

With a small shriek, Twilight fell to the cold ground. She looked beneath her hoof, locating the culprit that tripped her. A small twig lay crushed on the grass, and with a sigh, she threw the remains away. Twilight rubbed her hoof furiously, attempting to dull the pain. It was nothing compared to what other things could do, but it still hurt. Picking herself up, she delved back into her own thoughts before moving on.

Regardless, these lurkers were a real threat. They had undergone massive transformations from their previous animal forms, evolving into something far more suited to the darkness that now surrounded them. Instead of keeping the ability to see, which was rendered pointless in such dark conditions, they'd evolved their senses of smell and hearing. The result was terrifying, turning them from colourful, carefree ponies to efficient predators of the night. Seemingly, all forms of emotion and mercy had gone, alongside with sight. Why, just the other day, on day seventy-eight, Twilight saw a lurker take down an entire family of bunnies. Cute, fluffy, harmless bunny rabbits, just gone in an instant.

What was worse, though, what was, oh, so much worse, was the pony doing it.

Twilight gulped. Thoughts had to go to the back of her mind — what mattered most was getting the supplies she needed. She closed the door behind her, flinching as it clicked softly. Any noise would attract lurkers, so she had to be careful. Reaching into the pocket of her coat, Twilight pulled out her list of supplies. First and foremost, in red ink and underlined: food. Of course — one of the hardest things to find since the Day of Darkness. Back before this all happened, Twilight could simply order a sandwich of some kind, but not now. She had to scavenge and search for her own survival.

Walking through the streets of Ponyville, Twilight had her eyes watching every corner. There was a hay supply nearby, but she'd never had the opportunity to snatch all of the food in one sitting. Either it would be too heavy, and she'd have to drop some along the way, or the lurkers would come too close for comfort, forcing her to abandon it in favour of her continued existence. Twilight had to find the perfect balance — enough for her to survive, but not enough to raise attention. With food on her mind, she licked her lips. She hadn't eaten for quite some time, in fact, and she was in dire need of some.

As Twilight moved further and further away from the library, towards where she knew the hay was, her surroundings grew darker; she had cast an illumination charm over the library. It turned out that the lurkers did have a weakness — because they were creatures of the dark, they weren't exactly accustomed to the light. Although their sense of vision had been eradicated, the darkness that resided in all them didn't exactly appreciate light. For example, whenever one of them came remotely close to Twilight's home, after she'd discovered light was their weakness, of course, they would begin to smoulder. Only gently at first — so gently that the lurker wouldn't even notice. If left unattended for so long, however, they would go up like kindling.

Twilight had only experienced such an event twice — lurkers would usually figure out that it was the light causing their bodies to ignite, but the unfortunate, perhaps dumb, ones would just have to learn the hard way. The unicorn shuddered under her coat; even after day eighty-nine those sorts of things disturbed her. After approximately three months, she should be used to it by now, but it was easier said than done. Just another thought to put at the back of her mind. A faraway cry echoed in the distance, breaking her train of thought. The frown on Twilight's face grew larger.

Twilight trudged on, her hoofsteps gradually becoming slower and quieter as the risk of detection grew. It was now pitch black, so she could tell she was right on the lurkers' doorstep. Twilight glanced around cautiously; her eyes looking for shadowy figures. Before long, she'd located the remaining hay for the third time that month. It was in a barn — nothing as big as Applejack's, but just as simple and effective. With a tensed hoof, Twilight pushed the large doors open. There was a creak of wood, and the mare stood still on the spot.

A high-pitched, spine-tingling shriek emerged from the right of her. Frozen to the spot, Twilight turned her head to see a lone lurker a mere couple of metres away. It was a horrid thing; its teeth, sharpened to a point, were hanging out of its mouth, its claws flexed and relaxed at will and its pair of black, unseeing eyes settled directly on the unicorn.

As quick as a whip, Twilight jumped into the barn and closed the door behind her. In her haste, she'd forgotten about the impact of the noise. When the barn doors slammed shut, a loud crash echoed around the building, filling every nook and cranny with noise. Twilight grimaced as another shriek came from outside, even closer than the last time.

“Oh, manure,” she said with a hiss.

Priorities. Twilight needed priorities. At the moment, she stood in a barn, deep in lurker territory, who, of course, were practically knocking at the door. She predicted she had no less than thirty-three seconds before they'd storm the place, their teeth bared, and their violence unwavering. Twilight looked around the barn quickly, but the only exit was where she came from. “Joy,” she said simply, rolling her eyes.

The barn looked very similar to another she'd seen precisely ninety-one days ago. It had pillars of the same size and wood, and the smell was, oh, so familiar. Twilight tried to focus on the matter at hoof, but the old building reminded her so much of her friend. On day ninety-one, she'd had an argument with Applejack. The argument didn't matter; neither of them had won, anyway. What did matter, however, was the fact that Twilight hadn't left her on a good note, and, because of the current situation, she'd never managed to apologise. One day, she hoped, in the near future, she'd make it up to her. Perhaps when every lurker had vanished, Applejack wouldn't remain a painful memory in Twilight's mind. Not a day went by that she didn't think about it, and she'd been left plenty of time to think.

The mare wiped a tear from her cheek. Now was not the time for tears or memories — it was the time for escape. Hay was sitting in the corner, and she began scooping hooffuls of the stuff into her coat pockets. Provided Twilight did make it out of here alive, she'd still need food. Oh, how she would've liked to sit down for a while, to savour the taste of approximately-three-month-old hay, but there were more pressing matters at hand. The noises of scratching sounded from the barn doors. Not a lone pair of claws, however — it was joined by the scratching of others.

With all the hay Twilight could possibly stuff into her pockets, and only thirteen seconds left on her prediction, she began to search through her saddlebags. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she tried to concentrate; there was only one thing that would save her from this predicament. It wasn't very probable, but it was better than nothing. Her hooves became more erratic as her search continued. “Aha!” Twilight cried triumphantly, readying the multiple pouches in her hoof. Six seconds left.

The scratching suddenly grew in noise and power, the very claws appearing through the thin planks of wood. A snarl erupted from a particularly large hole in the wood — one of the lurkers had obviously picked up her scent. Perfect. Two seconds before Twilight's prediction, the barn doors tore open. Eight lurkers pounced into the hay-filled barn, snarling and hissing primitively. They sniffed the air as they hunted the pony, their ears perked up. Twilight picked this moment to set off her distractions.

With a flick of her hoof, Twilight sent the multiple pouches through the air, all harmlessly bouncing off the left side of the barn . They did nothing at first, only turning the heads of the lurkers by the sound. As they moved closer to investigate, gas began drifting up from each pouch. Even from behind several bales of hay, Twilight could smell the strong, pungent scent of the gas. She looked over the hay, seeing the lurkers become instantly attracted to the pouches.

As much as Twilight would've liked hovering around, as much as she would've simply loved being mauled to death by merciless predators, she decided to run.

She jumped over the stacks of hay, swerving to the right of the barn. One lurker decided to inspect the sound of hooves, but was quickly discouraged by a kick to the face. Of course, that only made it angry. It turned around just in time to growl viciously at Twilight as she ran out of the barn. Twilight returned through the route she had traveled through previously, utilising the streets and building of Ponyville for cover.

The good and bad thing about lurkers was their heightened sense of hearing and smell. It made them the perfect predators for everything, bar Twilight. Such advantages could be exploited, especially by somepony such as Twilight Sparkle. Their sense of smell, for example, could be overridden by just about anything smellier than herself. The various ingredients in her pouch made short work of that. She was still working on their sense of hearing, but it wouldn't be long before she'd find a breakthrough.

Twilight momentarily looked back on her attackers. Only one lurker was following, much to her relief, but it was hot on her heels. If she slipped up at any point, or the lurker called for reinforcements, like they usually did on such an occasion, she'd be dead. Not exactly a quick or worthy death, but a death, nonetheless. Twilight threw the saddlebags from her hips, attempting to reduce the weight she carried. In the process, the bags hit the lurker square-on in the face. It yelped in pain, slowing down immediately. Moments later, Twilight glanced back to find nothing following her.

The mare continued running, even when her hooves began to hurt. Twilight had slowly walked the entire way before, but that was before detection. As soon as a group of lurkers found you, they wouldn't stop hunting until they had to stop, meaning that some would probably still be stalking her, waiting for her to drop her guard, or perhaps to slow down. Twilight wouldn't give them the satisfaction of either scenarios.

Twilight sped on through the streets, and just as she predicted, another high-pitched roar echoed off of the buildings. Several more lurkers pounced from corners, alleys and the tops of buildings, all converging on their collective prey. They had group work, and she didn't — something in which they took advantage in. Another benefit they had over Twilight was their enhanced running abilities. If the unicorn considered herself as a fast runner, then these guys were the fastest. Regardless of how much energy Twilight put into running, they caught up effortlessly, their jaws constantly snapping at her hooves.

It was time to switch tactics.

With the dwindling amount of energy Twilight had left, she powered up her horn. For some reason, her magic was less effective in the darkness. Whether it was another of the lurkers' various skills or just another invariable variable in this dark world, she found her magic to be a lot weaker. That didn't mean she couldn't be of any use, however, but it was still considerably weaker to what she normally had in the light.

A purple, glowing energy filled the horn atop Twilight's head, bursting into pure brilliance. The intensity of her magical light made the following lurkers stop in their tracks, making some even lightly smoulder. They roared back at her from the safety of the shadows, running with her as the ball of light followed her. Twilight couldn't hold them off for long, though, as evidenced by the sweat pouring from her head. She had to concentrate, and concentrate she did. “Just... just one h-hoof in front of the o-other, Twilight,” she told herself softly.

Darkness began to sap her strength, but she carried on moving. Over the past couple of months, Twilight had noticed that the darkness had some effect over her. It didn't take long to notice — whenever she went outside for a prolonged amount of time, she'd begin to feel weak and tired. On more than one occasion, Twilight had been tempted to sleep outside just out of exhaustion, but her instincts told her not to.

The library rolled into sight, its orthodox, candlelit windows catching her eye. Twilight grinned. With a wave of her horn, she stopped the spell of light. The mare could hear the hooves of lurkers nearing, but she didn't care. It hadn't taken them long to catch up, but it didn't matter; Twilight was home, and there was nothing they could do about it.

As the unicorn got closer to her library, the numerous pairs of hooves behind her came to a stop. Screeching filled the air, and looking back, Twilight could just see the disappointment of a lost meal on each lurker's face. They roared angrily at her, saliva spraying from their mouths. Twilight would've taunted them, but she felt no need — even if they were bloodthirsty predators of the night, they were, only previously, her neighbours and friends. Although it just didn't seem fitting to do so, she felt no need to sympathise with them, either. In some circumstances, like today, it would either be them or her, and Twilight didn't feel like being eaten.

With a swish of her tail, the unicorn turned back to the library — her library. Twilight had survived another day, and only time would tell what day ninety would bring. Twilight opened the door, letting herself in before closing it shut. Once in, she took off the heavy coat in the corner of the library, emptying the pockets below her. Stacks upon stacks of hay fell out, and a massive grin spread across her face. “This'll last for weeks!” she mused happily, rubbing her hooves together.

Twilight was only interrupted by the opening of her door. As soon as the door clicked, she dived behind the numerous bookshelves. She'd had devised an escape plan just in case this ever happened, but fear blocked her memory. There was something at her door, something that had evaded the light charm around the library. Twilight leaned to the right of the bookshelf, taking a look at the intruder.

It was a lurker.

Twilight had never seen a lurker close up. While it was there, she began to take mental notes of its appearance. It was completely black in colour from head to hoof, for obvious night camouflage purposes. Even in the dim light of the candles, Twilight could see the piercing, black eyes of the lurker. Aside from the obvious differences in bigger muscle development, physical claws and sharpened teeth, tailored specifically for meat, lurkers were quite similar to Twilight, herself. In fact, the similarities between them almost frightened her.

More to the point, there was a lurker roaming inside her library, which, of course, was a bit of a problem. Seeing as though they would usually remain outside, seeing it inside, with the light, was a worry. Twilight reached for the blade in her saddlebags, but quickly remembered the earlier incident — she'd dropped them to escape. “Out of the frying pan...” Twilight muttered quietly.

As the words left her mouth, the lurker's ears perked up. It began snarling, its sharp teeth bared for attack. Twilight gulped, watching it prowl around the bookshelves. It was searching for her, and she couldn't do anything about it. Her magic was all used up from her earlier encounter; the darkness hadn't been much help in that respect. Twilight glanced around, looking for tools of any sort, when something caught her eye.

A letter opener — a blunt weapon at that, but a weapon, nonetheless. Twilight sneaked over to the desk where it sat. With a shaky hoof, she retrieved it, holding it loosely. She raised it, readying herself for the attack. Twilight moved behind the lurker, making sure her hoofsteps were quiet. Once in position, directly behind it, she connected both hooves, poised for attack. Twilight closed her eyes tightly, her hooves shaking with the blade. She raised her forelegs above her head.

As Twilight brought it down, the lurker quickly turned. It immediately grabbed her by the hooves, unintentionally dragging her down on top of it, its unseeing eyes staring up at the unicorn. Snarling in annoyance, it tried to prise the blade from her hooves. It was strong, but Twilight was stronger. With all of her force, the letter opener neared its destination, closing in on the lurker's jugular vein; it was merely inches away. The lurker was losing hold of her hooves, shrieking in denial. Although Twilight had never had to kill before, she knew precisely how to do it. It was struggling, she could tell, and it began to squirm under her weight.

It looked up at her with what looked like fear in its dark eyes. With a scream of surprise, Twilight fell back on the wooden planks. She'd never seen a lurker with emotions. The impact loosened her grip of the weapon, almost letting the lurker grab the handle. Seeing it try, Twilight sat back up quickly, pinning it back down to the floor with the letter opener firmly back in her hooves. Another shriek of rage came from the beast, obviously realising its futile attempt. Twilight grew ever closer to ending its life. She surely had a right to kill it — anything that came into her library was considered fair game. Neither participants would like it, but it was necessary. Again, Twilight closed her eyes; she couldn't bear to look. It would only take a little more force — that was all, and then she could go back to whatever the hell she was doing before. Same old, same old, eh, Twilight?

Same old, same old.

Her hooves edged closer, bringing the letter opener with them. Twilight gritted her teeth, waiting for contact.

“Wait! I'm not one of them!” the beast screamed from beneath her. Twilight looked down at the lurker in shock, her mouth wide open. No longer struggling, it began to transform into different colours, mirroring the palette of a rainbow. The shape of the body began to change beneath Twilight's weight, forming something else entirely.

Well, there is a first for everything.

Making a Change

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Population: One

By Trials

Proofread by Fluttrick

Special thanks to Alondro and Amit

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Chapter 2: Making a Change

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Beneath Twilight, flashes of every shade of green flew out. Her mouth opened wide. The majority of her muscles relaxed, and the letter opener fell to the floor. The lurker beneath her was no longer a lurker; it was something else. Its eyes of the purest of blacks had transformed into balls of vibrant turquoise, and its claws had turned to hole-covered hooves. She noted that the feel of the beast had changed, too — instead of the rough skin of the lurker, the thing beneath her was now soft, but slick. Smooth, but not silky. The razor-sharp teeth had been replaced with long fangs, which, she had to admit, didn't make much of an improvement.

It was not some deadly predator, but a real, living being. Twilight froze. It was the first, normal sight she'd seen for eighty-nine days, and all she did was stare at it like a moron. The thing in question stared back, its eyes focused directly on her own.

She was sitting on a changeling.

As soon as it realised the letter opener had been dropped, it pushed Twilight off with an annoyed growl. It looked back at the weapon that had, only moments ago, been inches away from its throat. After discovering that it was no longer a threat, and was now sitting still on the floor, it turned on Twilight. “What the hay were you thinking?” it asked impatiently. “Is that how you'd treat any guest to your home?” Twilight blinked. It was the voice of something other than herself.

“Buh... but, I thought you were one of them?” Twilight said slowly.

The changeling scoffed. “What makes you think I'm one of...” it paused, stroking its chin “Yeah, that's a fair point.” It sat up, offering a hoof. “The name's Effingo! What's yours?” Twilight backed up quickly, glaring at the extended limb. It wasn't attacking, but simply hovering... menacingly. When the changeling's brow furrowed, she grinned nervously.

“Effingo, eh? Isn't that—”

“Yeah, my mother wasn't very subtle,” it explained, rolling its eyes. “You gonna shake that, or just stare at it all day?”

Twilight looked at the extended hoof, and then back to Effingo. She hadn't shaken hooves for a long time. Probably because, if she'd tried with a lurker, they'd try to eat her hoof. No surprise there. The unicorn took hold of the changeling's hoof, shaking it gently. “I'm Twilight Sparkle,” she said, smiling, “and I'm sorry for attempting to kill you, Effingo.”

“Happens all the time, nowadays!” Effingo exclaimed cheerfully, releasing Twilight's hoof. “I'd prefer it if you just called me 'Eff', though. Much quicker in combat situations.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” Twilight agreed. She wondered if the two extra syllables would make a difference in any situation, least of all in combat, but it didn't matter. “Why, is combat a regular occurrence with you?”

“Well, it's already happened three times today, you being the third. Don't know what you'd call regular, anyway.” Eff shurgged.

Twilight stared back at the changeling, her expression unchanging. This had been the first time she'd talked to anyone besides herself in eighty-nine days. She had returned to conversation so... casually. Effingo tilted its head at her, as if trying to read her thoughts. It wasn't a lurker watching her; it was a normal being, and she didn't even care that it was a changeling. Twilight had long since forgiven them for meddling with her brother's wedding. They needed to feed on something, like any other being, but they'd still be strange creatures in her books.

“Say, Twi, if you don't mind me calling you that, when was the last time you saw anyone else aside from me?” Effingo asked, leaning on one of the bookshelves.

“Um, it's been exactly eighty-nine days,” she replied hastily.

“Wow, you keep count?”

“Only way to stay sane, yes.”

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess...”

“Heh, yup,” Twilight said, scratching her chin. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you a, uh, more personal question?”

Effingo raised its eyebrows. “Sure, go ahead,” it said hesitantly.

“What... what gender are you?” The changeling glared back at her, its eyes slightly narrowed.

“That's quite an odd question.”

“A question, nonetheless,” Twilight said.

“You really can't tell?”

“Well, no, not really. You look pretty similar to...” Twilight's voice trailed off.

“Similar to every other changeling?” Effingo guessed.

“Yes. I mean, no. No, no, what I really mean—”

“I'm a mare,” Effingo said abruptly. Twilight raised her eyebrows before quickly forcing them back down. Effingo was eyeing her suspiciously, her forelegs crossed. Despite what the changeling thought, Twilight always had difficulty in telling the genders apart. They did look very similar.

“It's just that—”

“No, really, it's fine,” Effingo said. “You did say it was going to be a personal question, anyway.”

Silence momentarily filled the library. Twilight couldn't end the conversation on that note. “I'm... I'm not racist, Eff, just confused. I swear to Celestia!” she exclaimed, giving the changeling her most serious expression.

“Whatever you say, Twi,” Effingo said with a chuckle. Twilight felt her cheeks blush, which only made the changeling laugh further as she tried to cover them with her hooves.

“So, uh, nothing says 'sorry I tried to kill you and then proceeded to mistake your gender' like some food, right?” Twilight said, pointing over to the piles of hay beside her coat. Effingo gestured to herself, only to be furiously nodded at by the unicorn.

“Well, thank you! Not everyday you get some grub down you!” she said, moving over to the hay. Twilight knew there would less for her in the end, but it seemed wrong not to offer any. Food was a rare commodity in this day and age, but, then again, allies were rarer. She joined Effingo by the hay, taking a small hoofful to eat. Twilight looked at the changeling sitting rather relaxed on the library floor next to her. The changeling had completely let her guard down. Why, if Twilight wasn't a better pony, she could kill her where she sat... but she wouldn't.

“Effin— I mean, Eff, do you know how... all of this happened?” Twilight asked hopefully. Effingo raised her hoof, finishing her mouthful.

“You don't know?” Eff answered, almost disappointed to hear the question asked.

“Well, I've been on my own for eighty-nine days... as I've already told you.”

“Right, right,” the changeling replied. “So, from what I've heard, the queen decided to use this ancient thing—”

“Queen?” Twilight asked nervously. “Which queen?”

“Not sure — all I've heard was that it was the queen.” Eff tilted her head. “Why, are there any more queens?”

“Of course there are! I mean, it doesn't really matter, but there are,” Twilight said before huffing. She noticed Effingo glaring at her strangely. “Continue”.

“Thank you. Now, the queen tried to use this ancient... device thing. Rumours say that she wanted some form of revenge, but something went wrong,” the changeling said. She spread her hooves out, simply saying: “boom”. “I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened next.”

Revenge? What kind of queen would want revenge in peacetime? Twilight rubbed her chin with a hoof, attempting to retrieve her memories. It didn't matter, really — whoever it was was most likely long-gone by now. Lurkers had seen to that. The unicorn took another hoofful of hay, munching on it quietly before taking notice of Effingo. She was a strange cookie; the changeling was always giving her an odd look. Not a polite look, but not a hateful one, either. It was as if she was just content to stare, to watch her actions.

“So,” Twilight said, going back to the subject at hoof, “how did you survive becoming a lurker?”

“I'm not too sure about that, either,” Effingo admitted. “I just woke up, and everything was like this.”

“Just like me!” Twilight exclaimed. “Did you have a massive headache afterwards?”

“I can't remember. My memory's faded since that day, but most likely,” Eff said.

Not only was Effingo strange, but mysterious, too. She had some form of immunity to the... lurker-ism, much like Twilight. There were no obvious similarities between the two; Effingo was a changeling, and Twilight was a pony. That was already enough difference. The silence in the room was interrupted by a rather uncouth yawn from Effingo, who hadn't even bothered to cover her mouth.

“Well, I'm pretty tired, Twi. Do you mind if I have a kip?”

Twilight gasped; she didn't even think about having someone accompany her, much less a guest. “Of course you can! There's a spare bedroom through the corridor over there,” she said, pointing her hoof to the place. “It's got a bed and everything.”

“If you were always alone, why did you have a spare room ready?” Effingo asked suspiciously.

With a chuckle, Twilight replied: “I always hoped, Eff; I never let that hope go”. The changeling looked at her for a split second before shrugging. She walked over to the corridor, eyeing the rooms cautiously. When she was gone from Twilight's view, a wide smile spread across the unicorn's face. For the first time in eighty-nine... no, make that ninety days, as Twilight confirmed after looking at the clock, she had a guest. It wasn't a predator of the night, nor a wild manticore, but a changeling. A simple changeling.

It was funny how quickly Twilight had leaped back into conversation. After such a prolonged time of loneliness, she'd returned to social situations fairly well. Things were looking up, as it seemed. It had only taken ninety days to do so, but Twilight would gladly take it.

A fearful scream emanated from the corridor. Without hesitation, Twilight ran through the library to find it; she couldn't just leave the only sane being aside from herself on her own. “Eff?” she called out loudly, “Effingo, where are you?” When no response came, Twilight growled. So much for team communication. The unicorn skidded to a halt outside of the spare room. Slowly pushing her hoof forward, the opened the door to find nothing. Of course, the furniture and various room belongings remained, but there was no changeling to be seen.

There was only one other room on this corridor, only one where Effingo could've gone. With a gulp, Twilight quickly left the room. She started pacing down the rest of the corridor, calling out Effingo's name several times in the process. Another door stood before her. This one was different — numerous locks littered the floor below the wooden frame, which must have been picked by some form of lock-picking spell. Well, Effingo was a changeling. Not to be racist, but they'd always been a dab hand at being sneaky.

All of a sudden, Twilight's breath grew more rapid; she could hear her own blood pumping around her body, and a chill went down her spine. “Eff?” she called out one last time, “are you in here?” Again, no reply. The unicorn let out an exasperated sigh. What if the... inhabitant of this room got free? What if she was talking to a corpse right now? Twilight decided to push the door open, to finally conclude the whereabouts of Effingo.

The changeling was still on the floor. “Effingo!” Twilight cried, running over to the body. She knelt beside it, carefully inspecting for... abnormalities. No bite marks, thank Celestia, and no scratch marks, either. On closer inspection, Twilight could've sworn she'd seen a rise in Effingo's chest. A second later, there was a decline. Effingo was breathing! Oh, Twilight would've hugged her, were it not for the vicious growl from the opposite corner of the room. Quickly, the unicorn stood over her new companion-in-sanity in a defensive stance. She glanced over at the table a mere couple of feet away. Pouches sat in their masses, but Twilight was too far away.

Twilight cast an illuminating spell, and the room instantly grew in visibility. She could now see the cage she'd constructed, which contained the lurker. It cried in pain as the light permeated its skin, as this one had been slightly weaker than the rest. The growling came to a stop. Bowing its head, the lurker shied away from the light. When she realised that it had calmed down, Twilight ceased the spell. She looked back at Effingo, who was still sprawled out across the floor. Grabbing a pouch from the table, Twilight held it under Eff's nose, using it as a sort of smelling salt.

Before long, Eff woke up. Her eyes darted around the room, as if looking for a threat. Twilight put a hoof on her the changeling's own, and Effingo jumped. “Relax,” Twilight soothed, “it's fine now.”

“But... but, there was a lurker here!” Eff exclaimed. “What happened to me, anyway?”

“You must have fainted from seeing it,” Twilight guessed. “I thought you were used to seeing them, no?”

“Well, I'd left my guard down!” Effingo countered. “Besides, what's a lurker doing here?”

Twilight gave a heavy sigh. She looked the changeling deep in her eyes before continuing. “When things were normal, ninety days ago, I was a librarian. This place was my home, and I loved all of the books here. I lived with my... assistant, who was a dragon named Spike. He was one of my greatest friends.”

“Ninety days ago, when you said that queen used an ancient device, Spike became this,” Twilight said, pointing to the lurker. Effingo looked over to the smallish lurker now cowering in its cage. She nodded to let Twilight continue. “I... I couldn't let him go outside and cause more pain, so I kept him in here. I had to feed him, of course, but I only gave him some hay from time to time.” Twilight smiled momentarily. “He still doesn't like hay.”

Effingo gave her another bemused look, as if Twilight was insane. “So, you're telling me that you keep a lurker as a pet?”

“Well, not exactly a pet, and it's not just any lurker—”

“No, that's crazy,” Eff dismissed.

“But, he was my friend!”

“Look at him,” the changeling said. “Does he look like he's still your friend?” Twilight glanced over to the lurker — to Spike — and saw his extended claws and teeth. He resembled nothing of the baby dragon she once knew, but she still held onto him like one. His scales had turned black, and his once clear, green eyes had clouded over into darkness. Not to mention his size — ever since the darkness had taken him, his size had increased exponentially; it must have sped up his growth rate, as he was now the size of a adolescent dragon.

“Not really, but—”

“I'm going to make this simple for you, Twi,” Eff said with a wave of her hoof. “As long as that... thing is here, I won't be.”

“He's locked up in this cage! He can't get free,” Twilight said, her voice pleading.

“I don't trust them, Twilight. I once saw one break the locks of his own prison, only to—”

“Speaking of which,” Twilight interrupted, attempting to change the subject, “how did you get in here? There were at least five locks on that door.”

“When you've been on your own for so long, you learn to adapt, to survive,” Effingo explained. “Picking locks has become my speciality, as it seems. I had to check why you had this room locked, and now, thankfully, I know. Make your decision, Twi: a lurker or a survivor?”

Twilight looked from Spike to Effingo and back again. There was no other option. Even if Effingo was the only other survivor around, she couldn't simply abandon Spike. Twilight had shared a past with him, but she'd only known Eff for barely twenty minutes. Though she hated a part of herself, most likely caused by her survival instincts, Twilight couldn't simply leave an old friend. “Effingo, are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” she replied.

“Then I've made my choice,” Twilight announced. “I'm sorry, Eff, but I can't get rid of him; he means too much to me, even as he is now.”

The changeling shrugged. “Well, it would've been nice to set up camp, but I can't blame you. No point in wasting anymore time, so I'll be off.”

“I'll see you out, then,” Twilight said with a smile. Though her expression was happy, her mind was not. The best scenario resulted in all three of them living in the same library, perhaps forming a team of survivors, but that was obviously not going to happen. For whatever reason Effingo didn't trust lurkers in captivity, Twilight couldn't persuade her to stop.

Twilight walked with Effingo to the doors of her library. Silence filled the short journey. Even though she realised that this moment could be the last chance to talk to anyone coherent, she still stayed quiet. There was an overwhelming sense of disappointment in her mind, both in her unwillingness to release Spike and her willingness to see Effingo off.

They approached the door, and as they came to a stop, Effingo scratched a hoof on another. She looked deeply into Twilight's eyes, as if willing her to do what she wanted, but the unicorn would have none of it. It was her library, and that meant her rules. Even though her mind screamed obscenities and curses at her to stop, Twilight opened the doors of her library. Only then did she realise that this action could potentially kill both of them. Effingo would be alone once more, off to wander around in the lurker horde as one of them. Twilight could slowly starve to death, or go insane under the pressure. Was it really worth the safety of one of her best friends? She knew Spike would disagree, but, then again, he didn't really have a say in the matter, nor in anything.

“I wish you all the luck in the world, Effingo, though I doubt there isn't very much left,” Twilight said, her smile quickly changing to a frown. “If you ever need some help, food or anything, for that matter, I'll be here.”

“Thanks, Twi, but I doubt I'll ever see you again,” the changeling admitted. “This world is too messed up to make promises, so I won't.” For the second time that day, a green energy burst in front of Twilight's eyes. Effingo had transformed into one of the lurkers, her disguise immaculate in its details. Her fangs and claws were at the perfect length, and her black body blended well with the darkness.

“Are you sure that works?”

“Well, it's kept me alive these eighty-nine days...”

“Ninety days,” Twilight corrected, a sad smile forming on her face.

“That's even better, then,” Effingo said plainly. “See you later, Twi.”

“Goodbye, Eff.”

Twilight watched as she left her library — as she left her world. The only survivor beside herself was leaving, and she was too weak to do anything about it. The unicorn continued to watch until Effingo had fully merged with the lurker horde, almost laughing at the simplicity in which she did it. It wasn't until she'd lost sight of the changeling that Twilight felt moisture on her cheek. She could feel it running down her fur, sense it falling to the ground with a splash.

That was that. She had said goodbye to the only thing worthy of talking to for the last ninety days. Record-breaking time, too — about twenty-four minutes. Twilight could, of course, talk to Spike. After all, he was still her baby dragon under that masquerade of darkness of his. Even though he was unlikely to understand her, perhaps even to understand the sacrifice she'd just made, he was something to talk to. Spike wouldn't be able to respond, just as Effingo had only seconds ago, but it was still something to talk to.

“Don't go,” Twilight sobbed. “Please don't go.”

Author's Note

So, I'd like to apologise for the tardiness of this chapter. I've had numerous exams over the past couple of weeks, and I've barely had any time to write as a result. Although this is a relatively uneventful chapter, even in my opinion, please note that this story is not about predominantly about fighting lurkers. It is a tale to show how characters change under pressure, loneliness and despair, not wholly about how Twilight managed to wipe the floor with lurkers. I'd also like to thank you — the reader — for reading this. The amount of support shown for this story has completely shocked me, and I thank everyone of you.

Absence

Absence

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Population: One

By Trials

Proofread by Fluttrick

Special thanks to Alondro and Amit

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Chapter 3: Absence

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“Come on, Spike,” the lavender unicorn said with a uneasy smile. “It's just a little prick, and it'll all be over.” The lurker in the cage shied away from the syringe, his black eyes glaring at it. The cage wasn't exactly the biggest prison ever, but it certainly kept Spike locked up nice and tight. As a result, he could barely move away; the spines on his back clinked with the bars of the cage that contained him, making high-pitched chimes.

With a sigh, Twilight Sparkle moved closer to the dragon. Though anyone with any sense would refuse to do so, she stuck her hooves through the bars and sunk the syringe into Spike's arm. Any sense that remained in Twilight had left before Effingo arrived had departed with Effingo. The lurker growled as she pulled the plunger to extract the blood from its veins, but he didn't fight back. Spike obviously knew the consequences of retaliation; it was an... enlightening experience. Once the syringe was full with blood, Twilight gently removed it from her ex-assistant’s body.

“Excellent, Spike. This will prove most useful,” she said, as if trying to justify her actions. Spike looked back at her blankly, not even a word of discontent or unhappiness erupting from his lips. She wouldn't even care if he whined — if he only he spoke something. With another sigh, Twilight closed the door behind her, leaving the lurker in complete darkness once more. Once she had arrived at her chemistry lab — well, more of a table with multiple chemicals and vials placed on top of it — Twilight released the blood from the syringe into a beaker. She slapped a label with the word 'four' on it.

It was day ninety-four — four days since Effingo left. Not much had occurred, of course. Effingo hadn't returned, Twilight had continued to talk to herself and, as per usual, the experiments hadn't stopped. There had to be something to that machine Effingo had described, and for the past four days, Twilight had attempted to find it. Despite her valiant efforts during that time, no successful result had been discovered. The unicorn had to find something to do, anyway; the only thing worse than the lurkers, the loneliness or the general feeling of depression was boredom.

Not that companionship was any less important—

“Science, Twilight. Lovely, wonderful science,” Twilight said, interrupting her train wreck of thought. She closed her eyes, forcing the energy within her to summon her magic. Her horn became enveloped in purple light, and, as she pointed it towards the beaker, the tiredness hit her immediately. The contents bubbled and hissed, and, after a couple of minutes, Twilight was exhausted. The blood nearly spilt over the glass beaker, but the unicorn noticed it just in time. With a wave of her head, she cancelled the spell.

Twilight looked upon the beaker with more frustration than interest. She'd repeated this process numerous times already, and she couldn't bear to face more negative results. If the blood stayed the same, the results would be negative, and Twilight would be no further in research than she had been days before. The contents had simmered down, and looked exactly like the blood of a normal creature.

Apart from it wasn't.

Twilight let out a cry, kicking the beaker with her forehooves. The solution splattered on the ground, forming a lovely, circular puddle of blood on her floor. “He's not going to change!” she heard herself screaming without hesitation. “No one is ever going to change back, and neither am I!” The unicorn vented her rage in the curses and obscenities she uttered. Rearing back her head, she could've sworn she saw steam spew from her nostrils. She kicked everything in the near vicinity, books and furniture alike. It didn't once occur to Twilight what childish tantrum she looked to be in, as, quite frankly, she didn't care. The only thing capable of judgement in here was herself.

Finally, it was either exhaustion or depression that made her stop. Twilight slumped on a bookcase, allowing the strong frame to take her weight. Pieces of glass and wood littered the floor alongside the blood like an abstract monument to her sins, and a chair lay in three... no, two pieces. She looked at her own bloodied forehooves — the hooves that had wrought such tiny devastation in a world simply oozing with devastation. How much of an impact had her outburst made on an insurmountable amount? How much would she have to destroy in this little library to equal the same destruction outside? “Like spitting in the rain,” Twilight confirmed with a raspy voice, only then detecting her weakness.

The blood on her hooves was now more than the blood on the floor. Twilight blinked slowly, her world suddenly spinning faster and faster. Bookshelves became blurry, losing the focus they had only moments ago. Her neck fell, joining her left shoulder in the slumped position. Slowly, ever so slowly, Twilight closed her eyes for the final time.

When the unicorn awoke, darkness filled the library. Twilight inspected the candles from afar, noting the lack of smoke and smell of burning wax. "No matter," she said, as she looked down at her hooves, "I can put those back on in a minute." The blood had now dried, leaving a crusty feel to her fur. Twilight wrinkled her nose at the touch of it before quickly rubbing it off. The cuts weren't deep, but they'd done her damage. Even now, Twilight felt slightly weaker than she was... wait, what was the time?

With a groan, Twilight picked herself up to find her watch. “Stupid unicorn,” she told herself. At that point in time, however, she feared that even her own self wasn't listening. She located the watch with ease, but found the time much harder to see. The glass and casing of the watch had been completely shattered, and the hands were nowhere to be found. Her time device was now destroyed, because of her little juvenile outbreak. There was no other way of seeing how long she'd suffered, or, in other words, how long it had been since things were normal. That was enough — enough to send her over the edge. It wasn't as if she hadn't gone already, but that was besides the point.

Before Twilight could let loose the mass of words waiting on her tongue, however, she heard a creak on the wooden planks of her floor. Not the usual creaks she would usually hear, but larger, perhaps more prolonged creaks. Unusual creaks.

“Twilight, is that... you?” a voice called out. It sounded so familiar that Twilight could almost put a face to it.

“Yes! It's me! Who is this?” she asked demandingly. Of course, she was over the moon hearing the voice, but she had to know who it belonged to. “Do I know you?”

“Yes,” the reply croaked, “it's me.”

“Who's 'me'?” Twilight asked, her voice slowly growing in pitch.

“I know you know me... my name is... Sp—Spike?”

Twilight jumped at the mention of his name. Of course it was Spike! How could she ever forget that wonderful voice of his? She wouldn't have to be alone, anymore! “Spike!” she cried, a tear of joy forming on her cheek. “How could I forget you?” Twilight began prancing around the library, looking for the source of the voice. Even though he was safely locked up in the 'time-out' zone, she deemed it necessary to prolong their greeting.

“It's... it's been a long time, hasn't it?”

“Oh, of course!” Twilight confirmed.

“Ninety... ninety-three days, right?”

“Actually, it was ninety-four days last time I checked, but I—” Twilight paused, slowly considering Spike's question. “Spike,” she said, finally moving through the corridor, “how did you know that?”

“I remembered each day,” the monotone reply came. Twilight grew suspicious. How did Spike even turn back to... Spike? Perhaps it had happened exactly as it began — some form of magic had changed him back. That must be it. That had to be it. It didn't matter, anyway — he was back! Her lovable, friendly pal, Spike, was back, and she wouldn't let go of him now, not even for a second. Overjoyed, she strode over to the room where Spike was contained.

“Spike, I hope you understand about the cage; it was only a precaution. You see—”

A deep groan came from the room in front of Twilight. The volume made the unicorn jump, and she forgot her words. “It's... it's fine, Twi. J-just come get me out,” an exasperated reply sounded. “Now!” Twilight blinked.

“Okay, Spike, give me a second!” Twilight said. “As rude as ever...” she murmured under her breath, as she pulled the door open.

“I heard that, Twi,” Spike said, his voice low, almost guttural. The unicorn pondered about that last sentence — the words she spoke had barely been audible, even to herself, but he still heard them from behind the door. With a gulp, Twilight opened the door to the cage. Unfortunately, that was all she could see: a cage. No Spike, no light and no bars on the far side of the cage.

“Spike?” Twilight questioned, slowly backing away, “where are you?”

“Oh, you know: lurking.”

A shrill cry escaped the room, and the shadows in the corner grew in size and focus. The elongated claws came slowly, dragging on the floor, leaving splinters and scratches in the wood. Twilight was frozen to the spot, her eyes focused on the shadows. Run, her mind said, just start running. She willed her legs to move, but they didn't respond. The claws suddenly rose from the floor before being pointed directly at Twilight. Spike came into the dim light, his eyes glimmering in the sudden light, and his expression of the want, the need, of the hunt. Though the light burnt his skin, he continued moving closer and closer to the unicorn.

Run, you fool!

She had to react.

Supporting her body weight with her forehooves, Twilight swung her backhooves through the gap she'd made, bringing them directly into the lurker's face. Before even seeing the damage she caused, Twilight ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. A cry of pain erupted from behind her, but she carried on. Even the fear of her actually hurting Spike— no, the lurker, she meant — didn't stop her. It only took a matter of seconds for it to catch up to her, so she barely had a couple of seconds to think.

As she passed through the bookshelves she feared she would never see again, Twilight saw the saddlebag next to her chemistry lab. With a quick scoop of her hoof, she grabbed it. Before completing the action, she heard a lunge from behind her. Twilight felt the sharp claws grab her side, raking deep, red lines in her fur. The unicorn tried not to cry out, but the pain hit her as fast as a heartbeat. She could feel the warm liquid dripping down her chest.

Twilight looked around to find the lurker pull back one hand in an attempt to slash again while pinning her down with the other. He had transformed from a small, friendly dragon into a killer. Not a monster, but a cold-hearted predator, which, she thought by definition, was even worse. Who a monster is, is in the eye of the beholder — not something factual or definite, but an opinion. Spike was now an efficient killer; he wasn't something that could be disputed. His sharp claws and fangs, his detachment to the one he had loved, even his expression of pure, unrelenting determination in his efforts to kill her — all explained the obvious change.

Spike was no longer Spike.

“Not today, Spike, nor any other day.” Twilight said, looking deeply into the lurker's eyes. The unicorn summoned her last energy into her horn. As the claws quickly detached from her body, she let out another cry. Twilight fell to the cold grass, content that her teleportation spell had worked, but weak from the overwhelming sense of pain. On closer inspection, the scratches were much deeper than Twilight had first thought. More like gashes, she considered, even enough damage to potentially end her life. She knew that the saddlebag lying on the ground next to her contained bandages and aid, but she was outside. Twilight was no longer in the safety of her library, nor in the light that surrounded it; she was vulnerable to the horrors of the night.

With a groan, Twilight got up from the ground. Another sting of pain sent her back down with a small scream, but she finally got to her hooves. She had many plans of where she could if the library became unsafe, but the nearest place was still a way to go with an injury. Sugarcube Corner may not even be safe, but from what Twilight gathered as she passed it on day... she couldn't remember, but the place had looked relatively empty.

Each tentative step was joined by a jolt of pain. Though she realised this, each progression brought on a new, stronger wave of pain. The unicorn couldn't exactly blame the lurker for injuring her — after all; it was only trying to survive. How it managed to use Spike's voice and memories was disturbing, though. It felt as if all the good times she had shared with her friend had been brutally torn away from them, used by the vile predator that now possessed Spike's body. The image of both of them together had been tarnished...

It didn't matter anymore. The lurker was trying to survive; Twilight was trying to survive.

As Twilight limped onwards, the voices of familiar ponies echoed through the seemingly empty streets of Ponyville. The town sounded exactly as it once did: filled with the laughter, merriment and conversations of ponies, new and old, friendly and bitter, happy and sad, but all ponies. The source of the voices, though, was not from ponies. Just in the corner of Twilight's eye, not quite in focus, stood a lurker with a voice sounding like a unicorn.

“Darling,” it said pleadingly, “why must you run? I have many clothes you may try on over here.”

Twilight began to move faster. Though the wound began sending faster, stronger pangs of pain, she knew this was a life-or-death situation. The horde of lurkers was almost upon her, their voices bearing the friendliness and warmth that their bodies didn't reflect. “Twilight,” they all said in unison, “stop running. Remember when we did this? Remember when we did that? Remember the good times we shared?” The voices, the voices! The overwhelming flood of voices bearing down on Twilight like a wave of pure sound! By Celestia, why didn't it stop? They pleaded with her to stop, to remember what they'd done as friends, but Twilight knew they were no longer her friends. The unicorn began sprinting through the darkness, choosing to forget the pain erupting from her side.

Twilight dared not look back, for the horde sounded, oh, so very near. She couldn't even hear the countless hoofsteps of the crowd — whatever cruel torture Twilight had been put up against before, even the profusely-bleeding cut in her side, it was nothing compared to the entire population of Ponyville bearing down on her. It was insane. She couldn't hear herself think. The voices plagued her mind, almost slowing her run to a halt. Her mind began to crack at its seams, falling prey to the maddening maelstrom of words and memories.

“Shut up!” she cried with desperation, “just shut your putrid mouths!”

The crowd did not listen. Hearing her cries for help from her faltering mind, they only increased in volume. “Twilight! We're your friends! You shouldn't tell us to hush!” Even though the unicorn couldn't physically hear the words from her ears, she could feel every syllable hit her mind. By now, her pain had melted away, succumbing to the stronger sense of pain coming from her head. All she could feel was pain and an overriding sense of defeat. She couldn't give up, though — Sugarcube Corner was in sight! Twilight could see the colourful, cake-inspired house stand tall, almost towering, among the smaller houses.

One final sprint.

Twilight's breath was heavy, and her mind even more so. With one final grunt of desperation, she cast an illuminating spell over the shop. It was all the energy she had left, and as she stumbled into the shining bubble of purple light, the voices of those behind her grew quieter. In fact, everything grew more quiet, even the screaming of her own body telling her to stop running. It was funny. After all that noise, it was like her body was going through a withdrawal. She laughed at the image of her ears refusing to pass on their messages, as if they were going on strike.

The ground felt much more comfortable than standing up, anyway. Grass, or, at least, the withered version of it was soft to touch. Twilight ripped a couple of blades away, only to watch them drift off in the breeze when she dropped them.

When they hit the ground, her head joined them.

The Flip Side

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Population: One

By Trials

Proofread by Fluttrick

Special thanks to Alondro and Amit

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Chapter 4: The Flip Side

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“Shining! Look at how many sweets I have!” said Twilight Sparkle, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Hey, that is quite a lot,” the older brother admitted, “it'd be a shame if someone... took all that.” Shining Armour suddenly plunged his hoof into Twilight's bag, taking some of her well-earnt candy. With a sinister grin, he began sprinting away into the darkness of the night.

“Mum! Dad! Shining took my candy again,” Twilight whined, pouting one of her famous pouts.

“Shining Armour, you know what happens to ponies who steal sweets,” her dad began, unnervingly quiet. “Nightmare Moon comes and... gets you!”

In an instant, Twilight's brother had returned with her candy in hoof. He patted her gently on the head before placing the confectionery back in her bag with a nervous smile. “There you go, little sister, good as new! Nothing to worry about!” She giggled at the sight of him watching out for Nightmare Moon with desperate eyes, his pride gone in mere seconds.

Nightmare Night had always been one of Twilight's favourite nights. The costumes, the candy and even the cold made the night so unique and special. She was able to disguise as whoever she wanted to be, and nobody would know that it was her. As it happened, she wanted to be a vampire this Nightmare Night. Cloaked with a black cape, and face-painted in white, she was a true vampire. A small trickle of red paint fell from the corner of her mouth, and when she smiled, a set of sharp, plastic teeth were revealed.

“The night's still young, Twilight. Plenty more trick-or-treating to do, no?” Twilight's mum said. The small filly nodded violently, as if the intensity of her nodding would exaggerate her point. “Go on, then!” her mother said, pointing her hoof to the next house. With another eager smile, she looked at where her mother was specifying, only to find Ol' McGregor's house.

Twilight gulped. Not Ol' McGregor's house... He had always been a boring, old fart ever since they'd moved into the street. Twilight remembered last year, when the old colt shouted at her to leave him alone. The young unicorn turned to face her mother in an attempt to protest, but... it was almost like she was forcing her. Twilight couldn't stop her stopping her. “Go on!” she said with a raised voice, “isn't this what you wanted?”

When Twilight shook her head, her mother simply rolled her eyes before leading her up to Ol' McGregor's, hoof in hoof. She pressed the doorbell with the tip of her hoof, only to walk back down the path again. Twilight tried to call her back, but she couldn't feel the words leave her mouth. She was on her own — not even her brother accompanied her in trick-or-treating. Odd. He would never miss a chance to snag some candy.

Twilight stood on the doorstep. She could hear the hoofsteps of the old grump approaching, but there was also something else; it was the almost soundless pitter-patter of smaller feet. The sounds of the locks being undone jumped her, and she could even hear the gruff groan of the colt. Twilight looked back to her parents, but couldn't find them. All she could see was the path she was on — the entire neighbourhood had disappeared. Darkness surrounded her, and fear instantly kicked in. Twilight was no longer a filly. She looked down on herself with wonder, only then realising that the memory had changed, and that it had been, in actual fact, a memory. Where were her parents? Why would they just leave her like this?

The door opened. Twilight turned to face two salivating dogs, who both growled and hissed at her. Hunger filled their eyes, and cold fueled their limbs. Ol' McGregor appeared behind them with what looked to be the first smile she'd ever seen him plaster on his wrinkled face. A cackle escaped his lips, and Twilight felt a sharp, sudden pain spread across her.

Every bone in Twilight's body ached and screamed at her, willing her to stop and rest. Just as she was about to drop off into sleep, she saw the purple bubble slowly dissipate. The entire horde of lurkers began advancing on her, sensing the prey to be on its last legs. They were willing to play with their prey, though, much like a cat with a mouse. One even licked its lips in preparation. They didn't try to vocally bombard Twilight — there was no point when she was already defenceless. She had to commend them for their efficiency; the lurkers knew when not to go all out, unlike herself.

As one last act of defiance, she put her last energy into a final protection spell. It cut off the main bulk of the lurkers, but still trapped four... no, five in with her. Still enough to finish her. Twilight sat up with a gasp. The lurkers didn't even bother toying with her, anymore. They were going to eat her, use her body as energy, then kill more creatures with her fueling them, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. One had managed to dig its sharp teeth into her left hoof, but she didn't care. At this point in time, she couldn't even feel the new pain through the clouds of pain already floating around in her body.

As the scent of blood tempted the noses of the surrounding lurkers, they began circling ever closer. “Come on, then,” she said weakly, staring into the first attacker's eyes, “finish what you started.” From its blank expression, Twilight knew that it didn't understand. Before long, a warm sensation began dripping down her hoof. “What are you doing?” Twilight said. She eyed the group without emotion, though silently wishing they would just hurry up. A strong kick to the temple stopped her staring. The darkness faded in once more, taking her back into the nightmare she'd just escaped. Wherever she went, either into reality or into her mind, there was a nightmare, and there was no waking up from either.

Almost instantaneously, the dogs were on her. She was pinned to the cold pavement below her. The dogs barked, scratched and bit at Twilight, using their sharp canines to rip into the defenceless pony. She held her hooves in front of her face instinctively, attempting to seek a form of defence. It meant nothing to her attackers, who only mauled at her extended limbs. The dogs were barking and tearing into Sparkle. She cried at them to stop, and at Ol' McGregor to call them off, but neither replied. The reality had become twisted and malformed, changing from a sweet, childhood memory to nothing other than violence.

A voice called out in the distance. It was too vague and obscure to hear the exact words, but the volume could easily be recognised. As Twilight looked into the direction of the voice, she saw the light. It wasn't like an ordinary light, as it almost blinded her in its brilliance. The dogs atop her began to cower away, whimpering at the sight, or the lack thereof. Relief filled Twilight like warmth, and she calmed down instantly. Though the pain stayed, she knew she was safe. The light called her, beckoned her, almost forcing her to do... something.

“I don't understand!” she cried out, “what are you saying?”

A face emerged from the light. “Wake up,” it said, “time to wake up.”

Twilight groggily opened her eyes to find a lurker fighting its fellow pals. Nothing out of the ordinary — food was a scarce commodity for them, so any scrap would be fought over. She watched it as it challenged every one of its competitors. No sharing in this world, it seemed, and certainly no rest for the wicked.

The fighting lurker looked strange, though, as if not used to the power it controlled. At times, it would windmill its limbs to attack, or even use more trained techniques than just simply slashing with claws. An occasional kick would surprise a lurker, and a hoof to the throat would temporarily stun them. Perhaps a new lurker? Twilight wasn't exactly sure of how one became a lurker, so maybe the process was still ongoing.

Twilight suppressed a giggle. It was funny thinking about it — they were fighting over the right to eat her. Only the worthy may do so, and the weaklings are crushed underhoof. Sounded quite like reality, really. Twilight was overjoyed to see the lurker, who had previously sank its teeth into her flesh, fall unconscious to the ground, however, and the continuing battle somehow amused her in a twisted way.

Eventually, the defending group began working as a team. As one would fight the attacking lurker head-on, another would sneak behind to attack. The flanking attempt worked the first time, injuring the lurker with a chomp to the leg, but the second lurker to try was not so lucky. A sneaky feint by the domineering lurker lead it to believe otherwise, but it was quickly corrected by a hoof to the face. Twilight watched it fall, its snake-like tongue lolling to the side of its mouth. Amusingly, it fell on top of the first victim, much to the discomfort of the lurker.

“Two down, two to go,” Twilight commented meekly. She had bets on this attacking lurker. Hell, now that she was here waiting, she may as well come up with a name for it. With little thought or negotiation, she said the first name that came into her head. “Yorke!” she exclaimed loudly, “that's your name!” The lurker looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, but was quickly reminded of the situation by a bite to the leg. “Sorry,” Twilight apologised, “my bad.” Wow. She was even feeling sorry for lurkers about to devour her. That was impressive. That's what happens when you get so desperately lonely. At least this one deserved it.

One of the defending lurkers managed to wrap a foreleg around Yorke's neck. It held it with such strength and severity, that Twilight could see the veins bulge in the throat. Yorke was slowly suffocating, and the addition of the other lurker kicking him in the chest didn't prove helpful. It didn't look good for the lurker that had previously done so well. Just as Twilight could see the final rise from his chest, the lurker choking Yorke sailed over his head. The other lurker unknowingly booted its ally square-on in the face. While its leg was in motion, Yorke ducked and brought a hoof to its groin. Both lurkers lay in a groaning heap of tangled limbs; a sight for sore eyes.

Twilight would've laughed, and laughed hard, were it not for the winner to stare down at her. He licked his lips, and began circling around her. She could take on one lurker, even in her injured state, but she would have to bide her time — wait for the perfect moment to strike. Twilight lifted a hoof off the ground, using the others to support her weight. She now had a weapon ready, and as Yorke got closer and closer, her instincts kicked in.

Twilight made a sweep for Yorke's legs, bringing them crashing to the ground. Once the rest of the lurker had joined them, Twilight leaped on top of it. She reached for a nearby rock with her other, weak hoof, and— “This, again!?” the voice beneath her yelled. “Wasn't my rescue attempt evidence enough?” A familiar, green light shone below Twilight, almost blinding her by the surprise. The form changed completely, and Effingo lay beneath her for the second time that week.

Effingo.

Again.

If only Twilight was stronger, the hug she gave would've seemed more authentic than the actual slump the changeling received. “Effingo!” Twilight cried weakly, “I thought I'd never see you again!”

“It's only been four days, Twi,” Effingo said with a wry grin, “and you know I prefer 'Eff'.”

“Oh, sure. Eff. Eff for efficiency. Eff...iciency. Eff, ha!”

“Twilight... you don't sound so good. You okay?” Eff asked, her voice unsure.

“Just dandy!” Twilight replied with a smile. “I think I may have lost quite a lot of blood, though...” Twilight could barely see the changeling lean over her body. It was hard to focus, even hard to see past... well, everything. Everything was unfocused, and every colour seemed duller than usual. Not quite black and white, but definitely duller. Twilight looked over to where Effingo was looking, instantly noticing the large patch of pinkish liquid. “Hey, that's quite a lot, right?”

“Yep,” Eff replied coolly. “Twi, you got anything I can cover that up with?”

“I think I've got some... in the...” The darkness took Twilight again. And again. Once more. It was a flashing image of both her dream and reality, like a flip of a coin. One second she was basking in the light, listening to that beautiful, beckoning voice in her dream, and the next, she was staring up into Effingo's turquoise eyes. It became too much. Too fast. Twilight tried to shut her eyes, but it didn't help in the slightest. Voices were on both sides now — both sides of the coin. One side became louder than the other, almost like a side was more weighted than the other. Reality grew in length until the dream was nothing more than a quick, occasional flash. One of the voices disappeared completely, if only for a mere second, but the other sounded loudly.

“Twilight! You still there? Where were those bandages?”

“In the...” Twilight began before bowing her head in laughter. “Heehee! You know what's funny, Eff-For-Efficiency? I wanted someone to talk! Someone, somebody, anybody! You know—”

“Twilight, this isn't the time—”

“Oh, but we've got all the time in the world, Eff-For-Efficiency! The world's gone to damned manure, and you're worrying about time? You need to get out some more, Eff. I wanted someone to sing, Eff-For-Efficieny! Like you did! You talked to me for the first time in... ah, who cares? The thing is, they did talk to me! All of them. The lurkers. Too much, I think, but still. Driven me a bit... craaazy! That's what's so funny, though, I wanted someone to talk! And they did!”

“Ha, yes, that's very funny, Twi,” Eff said, the sense of urgency growing stronger in her voice, “now, where are those bandages?”

“Bandages?” Twilight asked genuinely, tilting her head. “Why, are you injured?” There was a sigh, and then the sound of ripping. Twilight looked down to see her precious coat being attacked by sharp teeth. “Hey! That was really expensive, but you can—” The first clump of material went straight into Twilight's mouth. She tried to pull it out, but stronger hooves pinned her down.

“This is for your own good, Twi,” Eff said before silently adding on: “and for mine”. Twilight couldn't move, but she could see exactly what was going on. Twilight could see the pieces of her beloved coat being pressed against her wounds before being tied at the ends. Someone turned the metaphorical 'pain' switch back on, and then broke the handle. She screamed through the muffle until saliva dripped down her chin, but it fell upon deaf ears. Effingo was simply too busy trying to save her life to care about the consequences. It didn't take very long, but she could feel every pain-filled second. After the hooves released her, Twilight began aimlessly batting at her saviour.

“How dare you... why did...” she began, her movements becoming slower until they came to a full stop. Her extended hooves lolled uselessly in the air, and her eyes slowly shut. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her for the final time, was a changeling kicking several, unconscious lurkers out of her light dome.

“Twilight, wake up. Time to wake up.” Twilight woke with gasp. Effingo stood above her, offering a hoof. She took it in her own, picking herself up from the floor. Her eyesight was blurred, but not as badly as before. With a glance around, she saw the inside of Sugarcube Corner, which looked as dusty and decayed as her own library. Cobwebs littered the ceiling, and the smell of mould hung in the air. It wasn't exactly in the pristine state she last saw it in, what, with all the cakes, decorations and, of course, Pinkie Pie. Then again, she hadn't seen any of those for Goddess knows how long.

She took a tentative step towards the counter, but yelled in surprise. Effingo caught her again, before placing her firmly against a table. Oh, the pain was definitely still there. Her chest and hoof were fully covered up with material, but blotches of crimson painted them. “Heh,” Twilight began, “I guess I was pretty injured.”

“You don't say,” Effingo quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, sorry about... all of that, but thanks for saving me,” Twilight said.

“No problem. You've only been out for an hour or so,” Effingo said. “On the plus side, your coat looks much cooler, now.” Twilight looked down, and it had to be admitted: her coat did look pretty darn cool. It had tears and rips at the end, all of different lengths, which gave her that image of... ruggedness. “I'd pay for it if I could, but I thought saving your flank was more worthwhile,” Eff said with a sad smile.

“It's fine,” Twilight consoled, “just a random coat I found, anyway.” Twilight had a good look at the changeling, who only had a better look back. She was, more or less, in the same condition Twilight had last seen her, but there were a couple of obvious battle scars. A large patch of her coat was tied around a part of her thin, insect wing, and several, smaller pieces were wrapped around her left ear. She must've taken some scratches in that fight she had, as the colour of crimson seeped through the material, much like Twilight's own bandages. A brief glance upwards found Effingo staring back just as deeply as Twilight. She made a polite laugh. “So, why did you come back, Eff?”

“I was just running with the group, and I saw you in trouble. Those voices had you down, and I couldn't just watch you go like that,” Effingo admitted.

“You heard them, too?”

“Of course; I was right beside them when they started. Did my head in, I can tell you that,” Effingo said, looking outside the window. “I think they're still going on with it, but your little bubble dulls it down a bit.” Twilight tried listening to the hushed masses outside.

“Traitor. Deceiver. Imposter,” the lurkers chanted, “Backstabber. Deserter. Betrayer. You sit on a throne of lies. Traitor. Deceiver. Impo—”

“Shut up!” Effingo cried out the window, “or so help me...”

“What's that about?”

“I don't know, do I?” the changeling exclaimed with a wave of her hoof, “probably on about me betraying them.”

“Probably,” Twilight confirmed. “You were saying?”

“Well, I saw you were in trouble, and I came to save you. That's it.”

“Without you, Eff, I would've been a goner for sure. Seriously, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Effingo said with a grin. “Anyway, want to hear about what I learnt?" Twilight nodded vigorously. It had been a fair few days since Twilight had heard some news, and even then, it hadn't been good news.“You know that device I told you about? That turned everyone into those... 'lurkers', as you call them?”

“Vaguely,” Twilight admitted, stroking her chin, “something about a queen using it?”

“Yep, that's it,” Eff said, “well, I found it.”

“Really!?” Twilight asked, her mouth hanging wide open. “Did you find anyone in there? The queen? Survivors?”

“Whoa, hold on there, pony,” Effingo said with a laugh. “I know where it is, and I know what it is, but there was no one there but me.” Effingo pulled out a chair from the table beneath, as if readying herself for a great tale. Twilight tried to do the same, but her chest didn't allow her. With a small pout, she sat rather sadly on the table. “Have you heard of this guy called 'Discord'?”

“You mean the Element of Chaos? He had something to do with this? What kind of sick, twisted joke has he—”

“Seriously, slow down there, Twilight. It wasn't so much him as it was his followers. I assume you know of what happened with him and the Princesses of the Sun and Moon ages ago?”

“Yup. They had a fight, and he was turned into stone,” Twilight said with a smug grin.

“Right. Well, his followers weren't so happy about that. I say 'followers', but it was more of a cult, here. I'm not talking about a bunch of fanmares — this was a cult of devoted ponies; a group that practised his ways of chaos and jeopardy on those unfortunate enough. They decided to continue his reign of chaos, but the trouble was: none of them held a candle to the power Discord had. Sure, they could cause a bit of mishap, perhaps steal an old mare's purse now and then, but they couldn't launch any massive chaos attacks.”

“So, they created this device. The basic function was to send chaos over a large area, just because none of them could match the power of Discord. No one really knows how the device came into being, because the entire thing was shrouded in mystery for—”

“How did you find it, then?” Twilight asked.

“The only reason I found it was pure luck. I followed this bunch outside, and they seemed to take orders from the device. Let me explain the whole thing, and then you can ask questions, okay?”

Twilight nodded, though she completely disagreed. She wanted her questions answered, and she wanted them answered, now! Though glaring at Effingo did nothing for her case, she thought it would satisfy her questions for the time being.

“Pretty much, the device is an amplifier. It takes magic from unicorn horns through a hole, and makes it more powerful, distributing it in quite a large radius. When the cult used their own magic to send waves upon waves of pure chaos into the land, most, if not, everyone caught wind of the goings-on. It wasn't long before the cult was apprehended and the device was blocked off from the public. Such a powerful device couldn't be destroyed easily, so there it stood, and there it still stands. After it was sealed away, peace took over the land once more, and blah, blah, blah.”

“That's it?” Twilight asked, “but how does that have anything to do with the lurkers?”

“Oh, you thought it ended there? No way. So, this device stayed under wraps for ages, and, of course, only few knew of its existence. Time went by, wars were fought and lost, races extinguished and expanded, but time carried on normally. Then, ninety-four days ago, one of those few happened to come across the device once more. She also happened to have a special horn, the likes of which even scare me. It turned the device from a machine of simple chaos to a machine of pure evil.”

“Whose horn was it, Eff?” Twilight asked, “it's not like horns randomly fall off of unicorns...” And then, the answer hit her. This was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill horn. This was the very same she had come into contact before. She had seen the power it contained first-hoof, which was an experience she would never soon forget. Even the days of loneliness hadn't made her forget, but had actually reinforced the memory through the similarities they shared.

“You can't guess?” Effingo said, raising an eyebrow. “It was the horn of King Sombra.”

“King Sombra!? But I thought he disappeared!” Twilight said, her voice alarmed.

“He did, but his horn didn't,” Effingo explained, “it doesn't mean anything, now. I know how to beat him, Twilight, but I need your help.”

“What can I do? I can't even fend for myself, anymore! Look at me — I'm weak, battered—”

“Again, it doesn't mean anything,” Effingo interrupted. “I've seen your magic, I've seen your spells, Twilight, and I know what you can do. To use the device, you have to have a certain level of magic, and your abilities are far better than my own. I'm not able to do it myself, and you're the only sane being I've seen for ages. Please, Twilight, only you can do this.”

“Ah. So, that's why you came back for me,” Twilight mused. When the changeling didn't instantly respond, Twilight's shoulders slumped. Effingo opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She watched the floor of Sugarcube Corner, rubbing one hoof on another. The unicorn knew she was right. Of course. No ulterior motive? My plot, Twilight thought. Sure, it was all for a good cause, but the changeling wouldn't go out of her way just to save Twilight. Hell, at this point in time, even Twilight wouldn't save Twilight.

“Are you with me, or not?” the changeling said plainly, looking as far away as she possibly could.

“Fine.”

“I'll give you some time to rest, and then we'll be off. You'll need all the strength you can get.” And with that, Eff walked off. Where to, exactly, it didn't matter. She was gone. Punctual. Efficient. Eff-for-efficiency, nothing more, nothing less. Conversation time was over, the point of the meeting had been conveyed successfully, so she was gone. Twilight sighed deeply before gazing around the room.

Sugarcube Corner was more worse for wear than Twilight was. She could remember it in its glory days, attracting all kinds of customers from all kinds of places. It had been renowned for its glorious ranges of confectionery, but the only kind of customers were lurkers, nowadays. It used to smell of such sweet, delicious treats, but only the smell of dampness and grime resided in the air. As soon as Twilight would've walked through the door, Pinkie Pie would've come bounding down the stairs, perhaps with a new flavour of cupcakes or a picnic they could share, but even the party pony wasn't there.

In short, Sugarcube Corner had just simply become: 'The Corner'.

Twilight wondered what had happened to the Cake Family. They were the ones who had lived there previously, but they obviously weren't, anymore. Mr and Mrs Cake would've been waiting by the dusty, old till over there, waiting for the bell of the door to ring, or perhaps the bellowing and screaming of the Baby Cakes... The Baby Cakes? What had happened to them? Twilight knew they were fairly resistant, but lurkers were far more dangerous than the average foe babies had to face. For all she knew, they could be still normal. After ninety-odd days, though...

It didn't matter. She couldn't change their fate, anyway. Whatever happened, she couldn't fix it.

Effingo was right. Twilight would need a lot of strength to keep moving. She found a dryish corner — at least dryer than the other corners — and fell to the tiles. Her hooves would just have to do for pillows, and her coat would have to do for a blanket. It was more of just a lie-down than a rest, but it'd have to do. Though the pain didn't help, she eventually found her eyes closing. Her body was shutting down, and all she had to do was sit there.

“Twilight, it's been an hour. The lurkers outside are getting agitated. Time to go.” The unicorn woke with a gasp. There'd been no dreams for that sleep, and it had felt as if she'd only sat down to rest a minute ago. Only an hour? What kind of irresponsible creature would sleep for that amount of time? It was a scandal, but Twilight didn't feel like complaining.

“You know where you're going?” Twilight asked, rubbing her eyes softly.

“Of course. Been there before, but the real trouble is getting out of Ponyville,” Eff said. “There are a couple of ways getting out, but there are far more ways of getting eaten.”

“Well, I'd prefer not getting eaten,” Twilight joked.

“As would I, but it's still a possibility.” Eff said, unflinching. She clearly had no emotions.

“Have anything in mind?”

“Sure do.”

“Effingo, I'm really not sure about this.”

“It's worth a shot, isn't it? Better than trying to sit this out.”

“I suppose so,” Twilight said, lying on Effingo's back, “but even I could've come up with a better plan.”

“Look, just shut up, play dead, and everything will go smoothly. If you cock this up, my neck's on the line, too,” Effingo said sharply before adding: “and if you get me killed, I'm going to kill you”.

Twilight sighed. She knew there was no point in arguing, and delaying action any further would reduce their progress to a snail's pace. Even so, she didn't feel totally happy walking past an entire horde of lurkers whilst playing dead. Of course, Effingo could make it work with her disguise. “All right, Twilight, whenever you're ready,” Eff said, turning around to face her. Twilight nodded, and used her teleportation spell.

Effingo and Twilight both knew that a teleportation spell was limited in terms of the amount of distance they could travel, but neither of them suspected exactly how limited. They materialised on the flank of the horde massing on Sugarcube Corner. As they had planned, Twilight cancelled her protection spell around the shop, and resumed her best dead pose. The lurkers charged at Sugarcube Corner, all of them snarling and licking their lips. Twilight could hear their screams and cries as they attacked, but she didn't dare open her eyes to watch. One mistake, and the lurkers would be on them in an instant.

Twilight couldn't see a thing. Various, unpleasant smells got through her nostrils, but not being able to see the lurkers whilst being right next to them phased her. She liked to know where they were, but that was impossible here. Twilight heard the sound of sniffing, and her body instantly tensed up. She wanted to go back to Sugarcube Corner; she wanted to tell Effingo to turn around. She could either survive, make it to this device and save the world, or die. Twilight needed to be brave, not only for the sake of herself and Effingo, but for the sake of all living creatures in Equestria.

Celestia give her strength.

Her back was hurting. Being sprawled out across Effingo was hardly comfortable, but it was much better than just walking on her own hooves. They still hurt from her last encounter. How long did she have to wait? Surely, they would be out of Ponyville by now. Twilight could feel her limbs going dead, and the continuous jogging of Effingo's movement didn't offer any comfort. She had always hated pins and needles. C'mon, Effingo, Twilight thought, her mind racing to distract the pain rising in her body.

She didn't know what was worse; it was either the prolonging sense of fear or the prolonging sense of pain. Twilight knew of the pain the lurkers could cause, and the presence of such a threat sent shivers down her spine, but she was also beginning to lose sense to her hooves. The unicorn tried to adjust herself to a more comfortable position, but a warning bump from Effingo stopped her. She had to play dead, but she feared that that would be the least of her worries soon.

Twilight heard a sudden growling. They were probably far away from the massive horde, but the growl sounded a little closer to home than she would've liked. It was getting closer and closer, growing in volume and ferocity. It sounded very much like a dog, and a very close dog at that. She wanted to talk to Effingo, to ask her what to do, but there was no way. If she talked, she would give it away immediately. She could feel the warmth of the lurker's breath on her back. It could smell her. It could sense her. Her fur stood on end, as it got closer until it finally—

Thwack.

Twilight opened an eye, just in time to see the lurker fall to the ground, unconscious. Effingo had obviously noticed the poor thing, otherwise it wouldn't have a hoof-shaped mark on its face. Twilight could've kissed her. Even though they were far away from the library, Twilight stayed in position until she was told otherwise — Effingo could obviously handle herself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hooves beneath Twilight's own came to a stop. She could feel Effingo stoop down. “Twilight,” the changeling said, “I think we're outta dodge, now.”

“Were it so easy,” Twilight muttered. She took the message as a cue to get off. With a grunt, Twilight made contact with the cold ground, and after a few shakes of her legs, she felt the blood return to them. “I've always hated pins and needles,” she explained to Effingo, who looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Twilight hoped to inspire any other response than just 'whatever', perhaps elicit a joke or two, but her plans ultimately failed when the changeling did the exact thing.

“Whatever,” Eff said, shrugging in dismissal. “Look, the device isn't far from here. I'm quite surprised you ponies didn't find it yourselves, what, with it being so close and all.”

“Well, we never really go into Everfree Forest,” Twilight said. “I don't know who said not to, but...” The realisation hit Twilight like a train.

“Yeah, you just think about that,” Effingo said, raising an eyebrow. “C'mon, let's get started.”

When Effingo said that the device wasn't far from here, Twilight believed she was telling the truth. Maybe it was just the different interpretations of the distance, but the walk was much further than she first thought. Her legs were tired, her hooves were tired, hell, she was even tired of being tired. It was a tiring effort being tired of being tired, but it was only Twilight's burden to carry. Effingo, as it seemed, was effortlessly strolling through the forest. They both knew that the forests would have less lurkers, as towns and cities were more populated.

Why did Twilight stay in Ponyville? Well, she was a creature of habit.

Eventually, just before the unicorn's legs gave out, Effingo held up a hoof. Twilight assumed she meant for her to stop, because when she carried on for a couple of steps, the changeling turned on her with eyes that could stop a cockatrice cold. “Sorry,” Twilight mumbled, though secretly and silently laughing under her breath. Eff was certainly a survivor, but not so much a comedian.

“Right, the device is up ahead,” Effingo whispered, “a couple of things you should know: the horn is Sombra's, who has this crazy ability to make your worst nightmare reality. What you should do—”

“Eff, I've already been attacked by Sombra,” Twilight said with a wry smile, “I know what I'm doing.”

“Right,” Effingo confirmed, “well, uh... care to share?”

“What was that?” Twilight asked, a hint of teasing on her voice. “You don't know what to do?”

“Um, no, not really.”

“So, why did you try to tell me what to do?”

“Makes me sound like I know what I'm doing.”

“That's doesn't inspire a lot of confidence.”

“No, I suppose not.”

A silence fell between the two. Twilight didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. She had been following someone that actually had no clue of what to do. On the other hoof, she'd been doing a darn good job at it. The changeling had kept Twilight alive multiple times, and she always seemed so resourceful. Aside from now, of course, where Effingo simply looked like a filly admitting to several, covert cookie jar raids. She grinned at Twilight nervously, hopping from hoof to hoof.

“The best thing, really,” Twilight began, “is to just remember that it's only an illusion. Sombra's putting on a show for you, and you're only watching it. Just try to remember that it's all a dream, and you'll come right out of it.”

“Just like a nightmare?”

“Just like a nightmare,” Twilight confirmed.

"But I don't like nightmares."

"Surely, that's the point of nightmares?"

"Even so, I don't like 'em."

"You don't have to like them," Twilight said, "that's why they're nightmares."

“Whatever,” Eff said, shrugging in dismissal, "let's just go save the world already."

Author's Note

Decided to merge the small chapter with this one, putting in a couple of little details in the process. On the whole, I felt this chapter didn't need a lot more changing.

Bona Fide

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Population: One

By Trials

Proofread by Fluttrick

Special thanks to Alondro and Amit

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Chapter 6: Bona Fide

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The night was cold, and bitterness hung in the air. Dark blotches filled the sky where stars used to come out to shine. A lone unicorn stumbled through a forest with her companion in the lead. The latter was in post-haste, using her strong, reliable legs to climb up the hill, but the weakest of the pair was slowing down. Walking became almost unbearable, to the point of giving up, but the pony continued plodding on. Through her companion's calls and commands, she marched, and through the absence of light, she did not give in. She would not give in, because she could not give in.

A chill went down the young unicorn's back as she gazed behind her. The sight of an empty city greeted her. “Population: Zero,” she said softly, lowering her head. She was right — no lights were lit, and no lives were lived, exactly as she recalled. Of course, there was a presence in the town, but she certainly didn't consider it life. It was a dictated life, as she thought, and so, it was no life at all; they had been forced to live that life, and what is life without the freedom of choice?

“Hurry up, Twilight!” the changeling said in a hushed but commanding tone, “they must've found our scent by now.”

“Coming,” Twilight Sparkle said. Her hooves were heavy, but her words were even more so. It hurt her to speak, to move her mouth in any direction, but thinking was what hurt her the most. Her brain was so overwhelmed, so desperately overwhelmed, that she felt like simply lying down. Her body needed to rest, but her mind was so completely battered and bruised, beyond comparisson to her body. One hour of sleep. Only one hour. She had resented the amount of time previously, but she would've leapt at the chance to have it again.

Even Celestia wouldn't know how long the pair of them had walked that day. Effingo must have been some form of athlete or super-pony to think that this was a small distance. A small distance was from Twilight's library to Sugarcube Corner. A short walk was from Sugarcube Corner to Applejack's ranch, but not this insane amount of distance. Twilight was only a pony. She wasn't a strong, reliable horse; she was much weaker, especially from her wounds.

You know what? The ground did feel a lot more comfier lying on it than walking on it for miles upon miles. Even though the cold, decaying grass did feel as rough as sandpaper, and tore beneath her weight, Twilight preferred to lie amongst it. “Twilight?” Effingo called out, “where'd you go?” Twilight could've responded, but felt inclined not to. She had only been rescued by Eff-for-efficiency to rescue everyone else — there was no personal attachment. The changeling had admitted it as clear as day, which, by today's standards, wasn't very clear, but that wasn't the point. In other words, had it not been for Twilight's profession, she would've been left to die.

Why should she repay such a notion? Why was it so hard to just let her lie down for a while Questions, but no answers. Twilight didn't feel like answering anything when the only answers she received were terrible and misconceived. Look where answers got her. She wanted the lurkers to finish her off a couple of hours ago, and Eff came to her rescue. She wanted someone to speak to her again, and the lurkers did. She wanted a friend, any friend at all, and Spike answered that call.

Twilight felt the last sliver of energy leave her body. It may have been in the form of blood from the wounds she had sustained, or it could have been the last bubble of her sanity bursting. All the other bubbles had burst, of course, so the last one's demise came as no surprise. Twilight would've laughed at the image of sanity being represented as bubbles, but her diminishing strength didn't allow it.

“Twilight?” a voice called out in the distance, “where are you?” Again, Twilight didn't reply. She simply tore several dead blades of dead grass from the dead ground, noting their status of deadness. Nothing. They were definitely, indubitably, positively dead without a single doubt in her mind. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. Even the word filled her with dread. Everything she knew was dead. Not literally dead, of course, but dead in her mind. Her family. Her princesses. Her friends. Why did her own death matter so much? It was only another drop in the ocean; it meant nothing in the long run. Just death upon more death. It was there she decided: her death would be one amongst millions. If this catastrovent ever finished, either by Twilight's hoof or by chance, her death would simply be a statistic. Nothing more.

“Where did you go, Twilight?” the voice asked once more.

“Why does it matter?” Twilight whispered back.

A growl.

Twilight saw it before it pounced out of the long grass. There was nothing she could do about it, even though she had seen it first. It was on her in an instant, teeth bared and claws digging into her abdomen. “Why fight it, Twilight? Why fight the inevitable?” the voice of an old friend said. The beast was much leaner and than Twilight, and the bonus of wings proved very useful to it. While it held Twilight down with its wings and claws, it roared an eerie cry down on her, sending strands of saliva into her face.

“We were friends before, right, Twi? Best pals? Why not now? I mean, it's still me. I'm still the original, egghead,” the lurker spat, prodding Twilight with a wing. “Join us, Twi. You don't need to fix the fixed. There's nothing to cure.” Twilight felt darkness. Coldness. It slipped down her throat like a snake, twisting and turning till it met her very core. It was trying to change her into one of them. She gulped, trying to purge herself of the darkness. It twisted around her, taking hold of her mind and body in its tight grip. A gasp escaped her lips as the taut lines wrapped around her thoughts.

“We are the next stage, egghead,” the lurker snapped, increasing its own grip on Twilight. “Accept us as one of you, and yourself as one of us. Don't be a dweeb.” The darkness became intoxicating, blocking out all of the outside stimulus. She could feel the pace of her heart and lungs slow down, but even that was a struggle — both were losing their strength, and soon, Twilight couldn't hear them at all. All she could hear was the darkness inside her. It was talking to her, trying to corrupt her.

In an instant, she saw the world as it was now. Nothing had changed. No hope could be seen. Not a single, rational form of life survived, and the darkness reigned over all. Twilight looked down on her own body, or at least the lurker form of it. Fangs hung around her mouth, and her eyes were akin to the darkness of the night. She could see the monster she'd become, and the inability of herself to change it. Twilight was a hunter, through and through, and every hour she had put into denying that existence was all for nought. There was no succeeding, no survivors and, worst of all, no hope.

And then she realised.

She had faced the same foe before.

“What?” the lurker above her cried, “you cannot beat us, Twilight Sparkle! There is no denying the inevitable!” Twilight found herself staring back at the lurker. It had been an illusion, just like King Sombra had done before. She was wiser, and she was way more powerful than he had anticipated. With her hooves suddenly feeling stronger, Twilight used her back legs to kick her assailant up into the air. When the lurker fell with a cry, she was on it in a moment, pinning its limbs down. It tried to knock her off with its powerful wings, but Twilight withstood them. The lurker snarled in anger, and began using its words as a weapon.

“Twilight, remember when you cheered for me in the Best Young Flier Competition? I was so happy. You made me so happy. Why do this?” the lurker barked, “I thought we were friends! Let go of me, and I'll forgive you. We can be friends again. Great friends. Just let go, and we can be friends again! We can be one, Twilight, but only if you let go of me right now. Right now!”

“Nice trick, but it's not so great when there's only one of you,” Twilight said with a smile, “you'll have to try harder than that, Sombra.” The lurker glared at her with pure, unadulterated rage. Its eyebrows furrowed, and saliva flew from its mouth as it yelled at Twilight. It batted its hooves aimlessly at the unicorn, trying to disrupt her balance, but Twilight wouldn't let it. With a quick, precise hoof to the lurker's temple, Twilight knocked it out cold, and the body flopped motionless beneath her.

“You'll thank me later, Dash,” Twilight whispered to the lurker. The unicorn moved the body off gently, placing the limp hooves across its chest. Though it was one of them, Twilight couldn't bear to see the form of her friend hurt. She saw the darkness as a hostile takeover, not a welcomed one. Although it was terrible for Twilight to almost become one of the lurkers by the hooves of one of her best friends, she figured that it must've been worse for her. She could imagine it; a life where you sat still in your thoughts, watching as your body as it committed unmentionable things to the very things it had previously loved.

Twilight had seen a preview of it, and she made a silent vow to never let another creature experience it.

“Twilight, you still with me?” a voice called out from in front of her.

“Yeah, still here, Eff.” Twilight said. She was more awake than before. Something about fighting for her life probably had something to do with that. It was better to not mention the unconscious lurker behind her; if Eff held any kind of anger towards them... Twilight wouldn't be able to forgive herself for what would follow. She simply didn't have the heart.

“Well, hurry up! It's in sight!” Eff shouted. Twilight did as told, and with the new energy created from the scuffle, she ran up towards the voice. Vines and nettles lashed at her hooves, but it made no difference. Twilight was in full galloping mode, and nothing, not even lurkers, would slow her down. She felt so energetic! The unicorn could feel the blood course through her veins, her heart beating it quickly around to her power-hungry muscles and her lungs breathe in and out in rhythm. Twilight felt almost... too powerful, like her body couldn't contain it all. It was as if something had leached onto her body, and shoved in some more energy.

Finally, she found Effingo. She was crouched in the plants and weeds of the undergrowth, gazing into the distance. “Twilight! Keep it down, okay? They're all over this place, so we have to be sneaky.” It took a couple more paces than usual for Twilight to stop. Though she nearly managed to dive head-first into a tree, she managed to stay on four legs. Effingo looked around at the unicorn, her eyes narrowed. “What's up with you, then? One second, you were slowing down, and the next... well, you're like that!”

“I dunno, but I'm here.” Twilight said with a shrug. Eff continued to stare at her for a few seconds before facing back forwards.

“You see that hole in the hill?” she said, pointing a hoof. Twilight had to squint her eyes to see, but there was most definitely something where Eff was pointing. On closer inspection, it looked like some kind of cave. Most unnatural for the area, but very much hidden to the untrained eye. Luckily for Twilight, she was trained in almost every field. Aside from big, social events. And finesse. Pretty much everything else, though.

“Sure.”

“That's what we're here for, but we're not the only ones,” Effingo whispered. “We've got multiple lurkers all around here, and I don't feel up to a fight. Got any ideas?” Twilight glanced around, noticing the prowling lurkers around the cave. They looked hungry. One lurker growled at another angrily, slashing it with its razor-sharp claws. The victim ran off with its tail tucked between its legs. Though it was an amusing scene, the unicorn had more important matters. Twilight looked over to the cave again. It wasn't that far — only twenty metres or so.

“We could always try and sprint the distance,” Twilight said, stroking her chin.

“No way,” Effingo whispered, “they'll hear us coming as soon as we jump up.”

“Are you thinking we sneak around?”

“Well, there's not much more we can do, right?”

“True. Do you want to take the lead?”

“Fine. We'll use this long grass as cover. You stick to me, though. One wrong move, and we're both finished,” Effingo said, crawling out of the growth. Twilight felt inclined to follow her after that last statement. The changeling made her way over to a nearby boulder, peering over it to get a better look. With a secondary glance, she returned to lying on the grass. She made a detour to the right. Twilight felt like mentioning the additional distance, but was quickly reminded by a roar from a lurker.

Before long, the two had crept to the far right of the cliff. The entrance was only a couple of metres away, the unicorn guessed. Twilight couldn't see a thing from the long grass. Maybe it was best; it meant that the lurkers couldn't see them either. Suddenly, Eff stopped crawling. She turned to Twilight, raising her hoof in the air. Both stopped still, and as the noise of rustling grass subsided, Twilight began hearing the sniffing of a lurker. She couldn't see it, but it was pretty obvious it was close. Maybe it had picked up their scent. Twilight could hear it approaching step by step, crunching the grass beneath its hooves.

A face appeared over the long grass. It stopped momentarily, taking a deep sniff of the air. Within seconds, it looked down on Effingo and Twilight. The lurker opened its mouth to roar, but a hoof from the grass quickly silenced it. Eff pulled the beast into the grass with her by its mouth, and lay on its neck. Twilight half expected it to crunch, but Effingo wasn't using her entire weight. She only wanted to choke it, not kill it. After a few seconds, the thing fell motionless. Effingo, unfazed, turned to Twilight, and with a point of her hoof, began the final stretch.

Twilight finally saw the hole in the cliff-face, and followed the changeling inside. “Eff, that was amazing!”

Effingo looked at her with a strange smile. “Are you okay, Twi? You're not sounding yourself.”

“I told you I was fine, didn't I?!” Twilight cried. Eff jumped at the sudden increase in volume, and then proceeded to look around outside to find any curious lurkers.

“Twilight...” Eff began, “actually, it doesn't matter. Let's just get out of here before they find us.”

“Fine by me,” Twilight said with a huff. The unicorn peered down the slope of the cave, trying to find the bottom. With a step forward, she noticed that it was a lot colder than outside, and her hooves felt wet against the rocky ground beneath her. A sense of dampness hung in the air, almost so strongly that Twilight could feel it on the tip of her tongue. Effingo took the lead. Twilight followed her closely — such an old, dark place probably had some booby traps around, but Eff had already been here.

“You sure you know your way around here, Eff?” Twilight asked.

“Yup,” she said.

“How did you get in before?”

“With luck,” Eff said with a snort.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really,” the changeling said. “Why does it matter? I know my way around. That's it.” The pair came up to a door with a wheel for a handle. Effingo began twisting it, grunting in exertion as she opened it. She briefly glanced over at Twilight before putting all her effort into the door.

“Fine,” Twilight murmured under her breath, “as talkative as ever.”

Effingo finally turned to face the unicorn. “I'll probably be more chatty once we've saved the world, Twilight! Maybe I'm not the one needing to get my priorities straight.”

“What do you mean by that?” Twilight said, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, I wasn't the one skulking around town for ninety-odd days, only focused on my own survival,” Effingo said with a huff. “Maybe if you'd been a little more active, perhaps actually tried to save the world before conforming to it, more lives would've been saved, but no! Poor Twilight had to keep her ol' pal alive, make him her little pet! What a glorious, dignified existence that must've been, eh?”

Twilight simply stared at the changeling, her mouth open wide. Effingo rolled her eyes, and after an uncomfortable amount of silent minutes, the door finally creaked open. It was much darker in the next room. She could feel the cool breeze leave through the door frame as the door came to a stop. Effingo took the lead, as per usual, and Twilight followed her as she crossed the darkened room. With a flick of her horn, Twilight sent an light spell into the air above her. Great plates of marble comforted her hooves, though the coldness of them surprised her. When she yelped, Effingo turned to stare daggers.

“Be careful what you touch, Twilight — some of this stuff is much older than you think.”Effingo said from in front. The unicorn gazed around the room, noting the immediate smell of blood. The entire room stank of it! Twilight had been around enough blood over the past months to tell what blood smelt like, and that was, without a single doubt in her mind, blood. Only when the ball of light continued to hover further did she realise her mistake.

Discord stood in the far corner of the room.

“Effingo! Let's get the hell out of here!” Twilight said quietly.

“Why?” came the reply.

“Because I don't think our friend will appreciate the company!”

“What friend?”

“The one on the far side!”

Silence filled the room, and as time passed slowly on, Twilight grew more wary. “... You do realise that's a statue, right?” Effingo asked. Twilight squinted her eyes, so as to get a closer look. Discord was standing completely still, and on closer inspection, Twilight could see the glimmer of metal. Someone had obviously been a fan, because they'd managed to replicate the height of Discord perfectly. It was just too bad that they hadn't spent as much time on maintenance — rust filled every nook and cranny of the statue, which had, in turn, filled the room with the same smell of blood.

“Yeah, of course I knew that,” Twilight lied.

“Whatever,” Eff said. Twilight walked up closer to get a better look. She looked around the walls, which had obviously seen some damage. Large chunks of marble were missing, and moss hid in every crack. Bits of the wall were scattered on the floor, and as Twilight stepped over a piece to get a better look, another piece broke off in front of her. It was strange; this placed looked stable and secure from the outside — of course, it was built in a cliff — but the walls had taken some damage over time. It was thousands of years old, Twilight had to admit.

Bearing a wry smile, the statue looked exactly like Discord, even if the pony who made it had exaggerated some features. It looked relatively young compared to what Discord looked like now. He had a full head of hair, his eyebrows were far more bushier and he didn't even have a beard growing on his chin. Discord looked almost young! The statue stood proudly, and had obviously done so for many years. Despite the cracks in the walls and floor, the statue had none. At least, Twilight couldn't see any. It looked as if it was made with a different form or rock. It was a much darker hue than the marble, but it had the same texture.

On closer inspection, there was a small pedestal sitting below the thing. It was a beautiful frame of thin metal. Twilight could clearly see thousands upon thousands of odd shapes cut into it. Though she couldn't quite make out several of the the symbols, there were more recognisable shapes mixed in between. Images of ponies seemed to be a recurring theme, but Twilight could honestly say that not one shape was ever repeated. All of the symbols were too old to read. The unicorn had studied symbols of ancient Equestria for quite some time, but the symbols on the pedestal only looked vaguely reminiscent of the things Twilight had studied.

It was a shame that such a work of art had gone without maintenance. She could see the taint of rust gathering on every edge and an odd type of moss layering the black metal. Nature had obviously had its way in this room. Looking around, Twilight could see dozens of cobwebs layering the ceiling. She wasn't afraid of spiders, but the pure number of webs shocked her, even if the previous residents had deceased. Twilight heard an odd beat from the machine. Something stuck out of the pedestal... almost like a horn. Not a normal horn, not the sort a unicorn would have, but a horn, nonetheless. It had to be his: Sombra's horn.

“Eff, is that the device?” Twilight asked.

“It looks like it,” Effingo said. She moved next to Twilight, raising a hoof to her chin. “When I was in here last... the things outside looked like they were taking orders from it. I couldn't hear a conversation, but they were definitely responding.”

“You think King Sombra is commanding them?”

“Well, who else would be?” Eff said, rolling her eyes. “They're obviously not acting how they like, and if you say Sombra took control of you, it's got to be.”

Twilight paused. “I never said that.” She frowned.

The changeling looked as if she was going to respond, but suddenly went against it. She moved away, suddenly becoming interested in the walls. “Eff?” The changeling turned with a puzzled expression. She opened her mouth again, but no words came out. “Eff, are you all right?”A scream erupted from the changeling. Her body stretched as the noise increased in volume. Twilight had to cover her ears. “Eff?!” she asked again. The unicorn could only watch as her friend screamed in agony. She saw her turquoise eyes change to a light green.

Finally, Effingo stopped screaming. “Are you okay?” Twilight asked. She knew it was pointless trying — whatever had happened, it had caused the changeling a lot of pain. She wasn't going to be okay. Eff turned, breathing hard. She glared at Twilight, her brow furrowing. With a yelp, she leapt into the air and brought a hoof to Twilight's cheek. The unicorn jumped back in pain, using her hoof to inspect the damage. “Eff! What are you doing?!” Effingo answered by a roar. She ran forward, sliding along the marble floor to knock Twilight off her hooves.

Twilight got up in a hurry. She braced herself for another attack. “Stop this now, or I'm going to fight back!” she cried. The changeling cocked her head, saliva falling from her mouth. With a creepy smile, she charged again. Twilight stepped back at the last moment, holding out a hoof. Effingo charged straight into it, and she reeled back in pain. “I'm warning you!” Twilight tried. The changeling licked the blood off her lips, smiling once more.

Letting out a scream, Effingo jumped over to Twilight. She used the unicorn as a punching bag, hitting her over and over with her hooves. Twilight tried to fight back, but any attempt was blocked by the changeling. With a final punch, the mare staggered back, letting out a cry of pain. Effingo put her entire weight on her front hooves, and bucked Twilight in the head with her back legs. Twilight fell to the floor, her vision blurry and her head hurting. A black figure cackled above her, until another hoof finally threw Twilight into nothingness.

Pain. Her face burned with it. It hurt to open her dreary eyes, but she couldn't spend another second blind. Twilight tried to move her hooves, to move her entire body, but nothing responded. She looked above to find her front hooves bound by a green, magical loop, and looked down to find the same with her back hooves. She was well and truly tied up, and the only thing she could move was her face. “Effingo,” she cried, “are you there?” When nothing replied, Twilight bit her lip. She could be in serious trouble. Sombra's horn was only several metres away, and the room around her was completely dark. Twilight tried to wriggle free from the bond, but it was no use.

Her hooves were sore from the magical loop. Twilight had no idea how long she had been strung up for. She could see the red lines forming on her hooves, but she could barely feel them. She tried to move them, but only assisted in tiring herself out. “Hello?” she called desperately. “Anyone? Please?” Twilight felt panic rise in her stomach. What if no-one was there? What if she had just been left to die slowly? Twilight shook her legs harder, desperately wanting to be free. She needed to be free! She could finally save the world, and all that stopped her was the bond. Twilight felt her breath grow more rapid.

“Twilight,” came the distant reply.

“Eff!” Twilight shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”

A shape moved in the darkness. Moving towards her. Twilight gulped. “I swear to Celestia, if you don't untie me right now, I won't be able to control my actions!”

“That's a magic bond you've got on you. You can always try!” the changeling said in the darkness. A maniacal laugh echoed around the room, scaring Twilight out of her fur. She tried using her horn to free herself, but the magic she sent forth was only reflected back into her. The mare screamed. “I guess you tried!” said the voice, laughing. Twilight's breath grew faster and faster as her body finally started panicking. She could feel the beads of sweat falling down her forehead.

“Why are you doing this? We can end this nightmare right now!”

A light filled the room, this time more blinding than the last. Twilight blinked again and again, attempting to regain her sight. It did illuminate everything, but just too brightly; the unicorn could only see white spots. Eventually, her sight bled back in, and she was met face-to-face with Effingo. “Oh, can we? Are you sure about that, Twilight Sparkle?”

“Eff? Just—”

“Shush, Twilight,” the changeling said, pressing a hoof down on Twilight's mouth. “Just shush for a second. I want to hear my own thoughts. Just shush.” The mare tried to speak, but the hoof blocked her words. Eff suddenly snapped, slapping Twilight's cheek. “I said shush! Can you not understand a simple command? I swear I'm surrounded by simpletons... And don't you dare try to lick my hoof.”

Twilight didn't even consider it.

“You know what, Twilight? I've had enough of you and your smug attitude. I've had enough with having to drag you around this place, trying to keep you alive before finally revealing my true mission. It's hard work, you know?” said Effingo, stroking Twilight's chin. “And, to be honest, I don't think you're worth it. You'll be the only one who will know of it. You'll see the point of this little adventure, and no one else ever will. I'll save the world, and you'll just be another rotting corpse among the hundreds of thousands.”

“And to think that you knew me as an ordinary changeling.”

The changeling was enveloped in an iridescent light. It covered every part of her, from head to hoof. Twilight squinted to get a better look, and she could've sworn she saw Effingo's limbs grow larger. The light became more violent, growing larger in its shine. Twilight gasped. It was too much light, almost as if it was going to consume her, too. She couldn't shield her eyes from the brightness, and turning her face didn't help at all. Before long, the light began diminishing. Twilight could feel her sight returning for the second time, and as soon as it had fully recovered, she watched Effingo carefully.

The changeling had changed. Her small, stumpy legs had been transformed into sleek, elegant limbs. Instead of the paper-thin wings of her previous form, the changeling's wings had become more powerful and longer. A giant horn dwarfed the previous one atop her head, which threatened to stab Twilight in the face. Her greenish eyes had been completely transformed into a mix of different shades of green, and with these, she stared intently into Twilight's own. They shimmered in the darkness like glow-worms, shaking as a great, maniacal laugh escaped her lips.

“Queen Chrysalis?” Twilight cried, finally free of the changeling's hoof. “What? But... but then why did you...” Chrysalis frowned, raising her hoof to threaten Twilight into silence.

Once she was sure she got the message, the queen gave another audible laugh. “I am Effingo!” she yelled, her voice brimming with joy. “This entire time, when 'Effingo' met you in the library, it was me! Always me! You see, on day one of this... mistake, I came down to watch as your puny town became dust and bones. And guess what I saw? I saw you! Before the whole 'lurker' thing, as you called it, everyone becoming evil creatures, or something or other, I managed to save you!”

“I had the power to preserve you and myself from Sombra's influence! You never wondered how you managed to survive something that you, and you alone, avoided? Fool!” the queen exclaimed, laughing mere inches away from Twilight's ear. “It was only to play with you at first of course, but I then decided that I needed you to solve this whole thing. I guess I was having so much fun watching you suffer, but even good times have to end sometimes. That was when I donned the identity of Effingo,” she said, pointing to herself. Chrysalis changed her voice to Effingo's with a cough. “Where are you, Twi? I know how this happened, Twi! Come with me, Twi. I know exactly what to do, Twi!”

Twilight gasped as the thought sunk in.

“You see, Twilight, I needed to get you here so you can fix this entire mess of mine, but I thought I might as well have my fun with you first! And it's proven very entertaining, even by my standards!” Chrysalis said with a twinkle in her eye. “Want to hear the great tale of how I tricked you?”

Twilight simply stared into the queen's dark eyes.

“I'll take that as a yes,” she said before clearing her throat. “Well, let's just start from the very beginning, shall we?” When Twilight refused to respond, Chrysalis bared her teeth. “Now, how about we be a bit more grown-up, eh? No use in me telling such a great story if you won't even talk. So, let's start again: want to hear the great tale of how I tricked you?”

Twilight still resisted. Though she was well and truly trapped, she'd do everything in her power to dissatisfy her captor. After a few seconds, Chrysalis tutted. Suddenly, Twilight felt her head tilting up and down with a green glow. “Yes, oh, mighty Queen. I'd love to hear the story,” the queen said in a mock voice, giggling at the sight of her defenceless prisoner. “Well, such a worthy tale deserves an introduction, no? Let me start from the very beginning.”

“You see, when you so rudely kicked us changelings out of your wonderful kingdom, we weren't very happy. In fact, we weren't very happy at all. To be frank, we wanted revenge, pure and simple, but vengeance is a very hard thing to get when your enemy somehow always manages have the upper hoof.” Queen Chrysalis tilted her head. “We needed a game-changer, you see, and I just so happened to have an idea. Remember when I explained the ancient machine?” she asked, pointing her hoof over to the pedestal, “well, let's just say that I was one of the few who knew about it.”

“Acquiring it was easy — I only had to... dismiss several royal guards surrounding it, use my minions for the disguise and then the machine was mine! Now, here comes the tricky part. We needed something to operate the machine. Something with extraordinary power, that would be able to carry out my will upon your kingdom. That was when we heard about good, old King Sombra, bless his soul. We heard all about your courageous adventure to save the Crystal Kingdom, and then we heard about... that horn,” she said, pointing over to the horn in the pedestal before looking down on her own raised hoof. “That was also pretty easy to get our hooves on — you ponies should be more careful about who you hire as guards!” she said, letting out a laugh.

“But, that's beside the point. So, we had this device capable of reaching all of Equestria, and a source capable of wreaking general havoc. Can you guess what you get when you combine the two? Well, I'm pretty sure you know. My vengeance didn't work, the whole world got messed over and, more importantly, I'm a queen of nothing. All my beautiful children — gone. Now, you may say that this is my fault, but I had no idea what Ol' Sombra was capable of! He just—”

“You did this!?” Twilight screamed, finally finding her voice. She attempted to shake free her bonds, but she was too weak. Her body fell to a slump once more, and she continued glaring into her captor's eyes. Chrysalis simply brushed Twilight's cheek lightly, reminding her of the position she was in. She tutted at the pony.

“Ooh,” Chrysalis cooed, “hit a soft spot I see. Well, if you must say so, then yes. It was all my fault.” Queen Chrysalis leaned in closer to Twilight's face. “... But who's going to know? When you've fixed this mess, I'll be far gone, and you... well, you won't be able to tell anyone.”

“Why?” Twilight asked, her voice annoyed.

Chrysalis blinked. “Oh, because I wanted to. I wanted to see your precious Ponyville suffer, and though that may have gotten a little out of hoof, I've had my fun. Now I want my children and my kingdom back.”

“No, moron — why won't I be speaking?”

“Moron?” Chrysalis choked, “how dare you speak of me in such a manner!” The queen raised a hoof to strike, but slowly placed it back down, laughing. “Well, it matters little. I may as well answer your petty question — I don't know why, but it gives me such joy to see despair on your face,” she said, smiling darkly. “Is that normal?” The unicorn opened her mouth to answer, but was quickly silenced by a hoof. “Don't answer that. I guess I forgot to explain something. This machine — it requires a lot of energy. Not just any small amount. Sombra's horn fitted quite well, as... well, he has a lot of power. You, on the other hoof, will not be so lucky.”

“Do you know why I didn't just force you up here? I could've done, you know. You're not as powerful as you think. It's not just for the satisfaction I get from tricking you; it's the knowledge that you, in your final moments, will know of my betrayal. I worked so hard to get your loyalty, only to stab you in the back, and now you'll see where it got you with the final twist of the knife. The device will take your energy, both magic and life energy, just to fix everything. You're going to die, Twilight Sparkle, and I'll be here to watch you the entire time.”

“Y-you're insane,” Twilight tried, “why didn't you just sort out this entire mess yourself? It was your own fault! You wanted your pointless revenge, and now you've had it — countless creatures have died because of you, and that's putting it gently!” Twilight felt her throat burn as she talked.

“Well... no one's going to know! Only one of us will be walking away from this, and it's certainly not going to be you!” Chrysalis snarled. “I did what I had to! I've claimed my justice. Now, you're going to fix the side effects, and I'm going to walk away without a single blame.”

“You've killed your children, Chrysalis, and for what? For petty revenge? For the knowledge that you tricked me? Well, great job. You got me. I was tricked. Does that make up for the fact that you slaughtered your own people to feel better about yourself? You've committed genocide, Chrysalis, not just against the creatures in my race, but the creatures in your race, too. Do what you can to redeem it.”

“There is nothing to redeem!” the queen yelled, slapping Twilight with a strong hoof. “I've done nothing wrong! I got my vengeance, and now you're going to fix this situation whether you volunteer or not.” Twilight received another slap. “What makes you so fantastic, Twilight Sparkle? I didn't see you trying to save the world when all hell broke loose! You were trying to survive, like some form of cockroach, living off of scraps and hiding in the dark. You did nothing to help the helpless around you; the great Twilight Sparkle simply hid away and protected herself. Oh, how heroic! My hero!” Chrysalis said, clamping her hooves together.

The queen pulled in closer to Twilight, her mouth only inches away. The unicorn could feel her very breath. She could hear Chrysalis punctuate every syllable. “You were nothing Twilight. You are nothing. You will always be nothing.”

Author's Note

Herp a derp. Turns out the changeling... was a changeling! Oh, things are really heating up now,eh?