The Most Deplorable Attraction in the History of the Multiverse*

“C’mon Butterscotch!” Dusk shouted. Butterscotch and Dusk Shine were the only ones left. Elusive vanished before they knew what was happening, Bubble Berry’s terrified screams alerted them to the threat, and the four remaining had fled into the Everfree Forest.

“I c-can’t,” Butterscotch trembled as he tried untangling himself from the vines holding his legs. Dusk sliced through the vines with his magic and hoisted Butterscotch to his feet. There was no time to rest.

They were coming.

Dusk erected a barrier as a shard of ice flew at him through the trees. “There,” Butterscotch yelped, pointing to a treetop. The same cloaked figure that took Rainbow Blitz was crouching on a branch, drawing back a bowstring. Dusk fired an arc of lighting, knocking the creature from the tree, and ran.

Butterscotch scrambled after Dusk, tears running down his cheeks. He could hear the creatures rustling in the trees behind them. There were no birds squawking, no timber wolves howling, no wind blowing, only the horrifying sound of the monsters closing in. “What do we do?”

Dusk didn’t reply. Butterscotch swerved his head in every direction, searching for his friend. He was alone.

The rustling had stopped.

Butterscotch stopped running and collapsed to the ground, hugging his legs as he cried. “Dusk?...Applejack?...Anypony?” his voice cracked. There was no response.

He saw the creatures. There were seven of them, shrouded in cloaks as black as night. They stood on two legs, and each had two arms with ten fingers. Each one had its fingers wrapped around a different weapon. Some held guns while other’s held swords or maces. The sight of the large one with a sledgehammer brought back the sound of Applejack’s bones breaking.

The seven circled around Butterscotch, ready for any attempt to flee. Butterscotch broke into sobs as an eighth figure walked towards him. There were no weapons in its hands, but its fingers extended and curled as if desperate to find something to grab. Butterscotch moved away from the advancing figure, but he couldn’t bring himself to run.

“P-p-p-please don’t h-h-h-”

“Shhhhhhh,” the figure said softly, raising a finger to Butterscotch’s lips. He continued to whimper as the figure ran the finger down his chin.

“Who are you?” he finally managed. “Where are my friends?”

The figure stopped at his questions and pulled the finger away. The figure then pulled back its hood, revealing the face of a female. Her brown hair was pulled back into a bundle, leaving her smooth olive skin to bask in the moonlight. The soft edges of her face had a gentle warmth to them, but the monstrous green glow of her eyes left him terrified. Her emerald eyes seemed to be staring into his soul. “My name is Eleanor. What’s yours?”

“B-b-butterscotch.”

“Butterscotch," Eleanor repeated. "That’s a lovely name." She rolled back her right sleeve and held up her hand. Her fingers were still curling. She leaned closer and said, “It helps to keep the blood circulating."

“What’ve you done with my friends?”

Eleanor placed her left hand on the back of Butterscotch’s neck and looked into his eyes. Her right hand radiated a fierce blue and she gave him a loving smile. “I’ve given them a purpose,” she told him as her hand fazed into his throat.

Butterscotch couldn’t breathe. He tried to kick her away, but his legs had gone limp. He felt a horrible tearing as Eleanor pulled her hand away and stood up. There was no longer any pain. There was no shortness of breath. There was no sensation other than fear.

Butterscotch heard something lightly thump on the ground and tried to look. Eleanor, still holding him, shifted her arm to show him the body lying on the ground. He recognized the dead stallion's corpse. The blockish snout, the patch of now disheveled pink mane atop its head, the butterfly cutie mark imprinted on its flank, its bright yellow coat covered in mud and leaves- they were all his.

“It’s alright, Butterscotch,” Eleanor said sweetly. “You'll see your friends again, I promise.”