//------------------------------// // Haunted House Adventure Playset, part 2 // Story: The Adventuring Type // by Cold in Gardez //------------------------------// “Do you smell that?” Starlight Glimmer asked. Rainbow Dash set her saddlebags down in the center of the room – the lounge, she guessed, based on the skeletal remains of several fancy chairs, an ash-clogged fireplace that dominated most of a full wall, and what looked like the shattered puzzle pieces of an entire liquor cabinet overturned onto the floor. She drew in a deep breath through her nose and let the stale air settle into her brain. She smelled dust, of course, the dust of the desert outside and the dust that had been countless books in the shelves on the wall, now disintegrated with age, and the dust of bare timbers exposed to dry air for decades. And there was sweat too, but that was probably her since she hadn’t taken a bath yet and it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Other subtle scents hid beneath the dust and sweat. The sweet touch of charred wood from the fireplace, a birds nest somewhere in the exposed ceiling above, and rust everywhere, rust in the walls and rust in the floor and rust drifting up from the cellar, so much rust that if she closed her eyes and pretended she could smell salt as well, she might as well be surrounded by blood. She opened her mouth to speak, but Nutmeg beat her to it. “Age,” he said. “Like a room that nopony’s entered for years. Old blankets, forgotten in a closet.” “Is this what old houses all smell like?” Dash asked. Cloud houses didn’t smell like this. When they got old they just dried out or evaporated, and dried water didn’t smell like much of anything. “Is this why unicorns always buy incense? Because otherwise their houses start to stink?” “I think it’s more a matter of dereliction, Ms. Dash,” Nutmeg said. “Unicorn homes smell just fine if you take care of them, which this unfortunate house doesn’t seem to be—” “Okay, it’s ghosts,” Starlight cut in. Her horn glowed, and a circle of dust swirled in the center of the room, revealing dried and cracked timbers beneath. She set her saddlebags down in the swept-out spot, and surveyed the room. “The correct answer is ghosts. It smells like ghosts.” Rainbow sniffed again. “It smells like dust to me.” “Trust me,” Starlight said. “Once you know what a ghost smells like, you can scent them from a mile away. This place is loaded with them.” “How do you know what ghosts smell like?” Nutmeg asked.  “I just… look.” Starlight sat and brushed at her shoulders with her hooves. She tossed her head and studied the walls. “I did some things in college, okay? Some experiments. Every unicorn does.” Really? Rainbow leaned forward. “Even Twilight?” Starlight snorted. “Oh, especially Twilight. Trust me, you get a glass or two of wine into that mare, and the stories—okay, we’re getting sidetracked. The point is there’s ghosts in this mansion and we’re going to find them.” “And this is your mission,” Nutmeg said. It was a statement, but flavored with enough doubt to sound like a question. Starlight took her time answering. She looked around the deserted room, down the dark corridors leading deeper into the abandoned mansion, at warped floorboards beneath her hooves and up into the holes in the ceiling overhead. Finally, she nodded and answered, “Yes. It’ll do.” What, exactly, it would do for had to wait. At that moment the front door crashed open, sending a shower of dust and plaster fragments raining down on them from the ramshackle ceiling. Hoofsteps thudded like drum beats on the hollowed-out floor, and Oaky Wedge stomped into the room. Piled on her back were bedrolls and blankets and bags of what sounded like nuts. She dumped them all on the floor, brushed herself off, and joined them in silently surveying the wreck of a house. “It’s something, ain’t it?” she said. “Old Lady Miller was one of the first ponies in Groveport. Helped build this town with her own four hooves. And when they discovered the nut deposits back in ‘34, she made a mint packing ‘em up and selling them to the big grocers out east. At one point she was the richest mare in town, yes she was.” “Thirty-four?” Dash did some mental math, and determined that 934 was many years ago. “How long has this place been abandoned?” “Oh, on twenty years now, maybe?” Oaky Wedge tilted her head. “Gosh, she vanished the same year Saguaro and Canteen eloped up north to Las Pegasus, didn’t she? And now they’ve got grandfoals.” She let out a long, airy sigh that stirred up the dust again. “Feels like just yesterday. Where does the time go?” “How old was she when she, ah, vanished?” Nutmeg asked. He pulled a bedroll from the pile and spread it out on the floor, using his wings to sweep away the dust. “You know, that’s a good question?” Oaky Wedge said. “Why, she must’ve been pushing eighty, but she never looked any older than I look now.” She laughed. “Why, ponies used to joke that she must’ve made a deal with the devil! Oh, ayup, she must’ve sold her soul to some hellish, demonic power in exchange for eternal youth! Ah, we were so silly back then.” Huh. Rainbow Dash glanced down at the floorboards, then down the darkened corridors leading into the mansion’s empty heart. Did they seem… longer? The shadows fuller? Was that ash she smelled in the fireplace, or brimstone? So many new questions. “That’s… quite silly indeed,” Nutmeg said. “And what were the circumstances of her disappearance?” “Oh, just gone one night.” Oaky Wedge dusted her coat off and glanced out the window. The sun had set, and only a faint, diminishing glow remained to the west. Soon the stars would emerge overhead. “Nopony every figured out why, or where, or any of those other double-you words. There was a terrible storm, lightning and thunder and winds strong enough to turn the trees upside-down. And in the morning she was just gone.” She swallowed, and for a moment her face appeared drawn. Shadows lined her eyes, and her shoulders sank. “I should warn you ponies, because you strike me as honest and deserving folks. This house has a history. Every year, teenage fillies and colts dare each other to spend the night. They sneak in, and try to be brave, and when the darkness finally falls—” Rainbow Dash gasped. “They vanish too, don’t they? Eaten by the ghost of Lady Miller!” “That’s silly, Rainbow,” Starlight said. “Ghosts don’t eat ponies. They engulf them in ectoplasm and digest them externally before absorbing their essences.” “Oh my gosh that’s so cool!” Rainbow’s wings extended, and her feathers stood on end. “Do you think we’ll see one tonight? Will it try to eat us too?!” “What? No.” Oaky Wedge gawked at them, then tramped over to the broken window. “Every year teenage fillies and colts dare each other to spend the night, but after a few hours the sun sets and they all get so bored they leave to get ice cream.” She pointed out the window to a well-lit stand across the street, where an earth pony wearing a paper cap was dishing out scoops of ice cream to a line of foals. “But sometimes they wait too long, and the ice cream stand closes, and they don’t get any!” Rainbow Dash gasped again. “No!” She spun to Nutmeg. “We have to get some now!” “So, there’s no ghosts?” Nutmeg asked. He brushed away Rainbow’s clutching hooves. “I just want to be very clear on that.” “Nope, just ice cream,” Oaky said. “The pistachio is best. Some ponies prefer the macadamia nut, but they’re just plain wrong.” “That’s a relief,” Nutmeg said. “And yes, Miss Dash, we can get some ice cream. We have plenty of bits—” “Not so fast!” Starlight muscled her way between them. She squared her shoulders and stared at Oaky Wedge. “You make it sound so safe and boring, mayor, but I know the truth! This mansion is haunted by the spirit of Lady Miller, and the only way for us to bring peace to her troubled soul is to successfully spend the night. And that’s what we’re going to do!” “But…” Rainbow Dash looked between Starlight and the window, where outside ponies continued down the boardwalk, moving toward their houses in preparation for the coming night. “Can’t we get ice cream too?” “Well, of course.” Starlight relaxed. “I’m not a villain anymore. Let’s go.” * * * A half-hour later, they were settled back in the mansion’s lounge, their bedrolls unrolled and blankets folded neatly atop them for cushions. Night had swallowed the world outside. Through the broken window Dash saw a sky filled with stars and mountains painted silver by moonlight. Veils of fog drifted down from their iceberg, wrapping it round in glowing folds, and for a moment Dash allowed herself to imagine that it was not an iceberg but a titanic ghost, the spirit of some enormous being – an extinct volcano, a felled forest, or a lake so poisoned with salt that everything in it died – returned now to haunt the whole world. Then the wind shifted, shedding the fog like the tufts of a dandelion, and the revealed ice glimmered like diamonds in the starlight.  She realized she was smiling. Also Nutmeg was saying something, which meant she should be paying attention. She licked her pistachio ice cream – green, unexpectedly, and sweet – and tuned back into the conversation. “...and I figured I’d go to jail after that, right?” Starlight said. “Or get turned into stone. That happens to a lot of creatures who upset Celestia. Or just get tossed into Tartarus. But no, Twilight made me her apprentice. Which, really, turned out to be better than revenge anyway.” “Revenge seems like it must be overrated,” Nutmeg said. He had a dish of peanut butter praline ice cream, and he nibbled at it demurely between sentences. “I’ve never known anyone who got it and was happy afterward.” “Yeah, they should write that on the tin.” Starlight stared down at her own treat, a bowl of plain vanilla ice cream dusted with maple sugar, sharing space with a chocolate-chip cookie still warm from the oven. She levitated a chunk of the cookie, smeared it with a gooey coating of half-melted ice cream, and floated it carefully into her mouth. Not a drop escaped to stain her coat. “Mm. Anyway, that’s ancient history.” They’d tried to start a fire in the fireplace, both for light and to ward off the chilly desert night, but the chimney was clogged with creosote and fossilized bird nests, and they all agreed that burning down the mansion within hours of starting their attempt to solve its mysteries would reflect poorly on their skills. So instead Starlight Glimmer set a magical fire in the swept-out basin of the fireplace. It glowed blue and violet, emitted no smoke, and cast only enough heat to keep them pleasantly warm. Dash found herself staring into it for minutes at a time, hypnotized by the shifting colors and flickering lights. No wonder fire had held such fascination for ancient caveponies. “So, sorry to belabour the point, but I’m not familiar with ghosts. How does this work again?” Nutmeg asked. “We just spend the night?” “Survive the night,” Dash clarified. “We can’t die. Right Starlight?” Starlight nodded. “Right. Though, with me here, our chances of dying are very slim. Less than one percent, I’d say.” “I see. Survive.” Nutmeg frowned. “Should we… set a watch, perhaps? Get weapons from the ship?” “Mundane weapons aren’t much use against ghosts,” Starlight said. “We’ll have to rely on our wits. And we should try to stay awake, too.” “We have games on the ship,” Rainbow said. “Cards. And a few chess sets.” Did Starlight play chess? A sudden, feral desire seized her. She wanted to find out. She wanted to win. Her wings fluttered at her side, ready to burst out into the night to fetch their games from the Orithyia. “Board games are good, but I have a better idea.” Starlight gave her hooves a little clap, and pushed her ice cream dish off to the side. “We’re going to play a parlour game!” “A what game?” Rainbow Dash peered close at Starlight’s hooves, then her bedroll, to see if she had a board hidden somewhere. “A parlour game, Miss Dash,” Nutmeg said. “It’s an intellectual type of game. It requires thinking.” There wasn’t much that required more thinking than chess, in Dash’s estimation. Her feathers fluffed up, ready to challenge Nutmeg or Starlight or both of them at once on that point, but before she could throw down and defend chess’s honor, Starlight was speaking again. “That’s right,” she said. “After unicorns invented parlours, we needed something to do in them, so we invented parlour games. Most of them are based on discovering things about your friends, or looking at old problems in new ways. If you’ve ever played ‘Twenty Questions’ or ‘Truth or Dare,’ you’ve played a parlour game.” Oh, Celestia, it was one of those games. Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Boring.” “Don’t be so hasty,” Nutmeg said. “They can be quite entertaining. And didn’t you think chess was boring, before we tried that?” Rainbow opened her mouth to deny that criminal insinuation, that bald-faced lie, but a memory of her first night with a chess set on the Orithyia’s deck came back into her mind, as though it were just yesterday. She remembered sniffing in disdain, and saying that chess was a unicorn’s game. An egghead’s game. Not something cool ponies played. And, well, how wrong had she been about that? She closed her mouth and wrinkled her muzzle, and decided to let Starlight proceed. For now. “Thank you, Nutmeg.” Starlight gave a little nod in his direction. “And don’t worry, Rainbow, I think you’ll like this one. It can be a little… hm… daring.” Rainbow cocked an eyebrow at her. “A talking game. Daring.” “Have faith, apprentice.” Starlight settled down on her belly, forelegs folded in front of her. “It’s called Questionnaire, and it’s just what it sounds like. Each pony takes a turn, asking a hypothetical question that everypony must answer. The best questions should reveal some part of a pony’s character, and by the end of the game reveal their true nature. So—” “Uh, yeah, I’m awesome and hot and the best flyer in Equestria. Am I done?” Starlight smiled. It was a little thing, a knowing thing, just barely bending up the corners of her lips. “Well, you can use those answers as much as you like. Let me start with a standard question, though: If you had to be a member of another tribe, which would it be?” Uh. Another tribe? Not a pegasus, that’s what she meant. Suddenly neither awesome or hot or the best flyer in Equestria applied. Her ready responses stumbled out the gate, leaving her wordless. An earth pony? They can’t fly! A unicorn then? They can’t fly either!  Nutmeg must’ve noticed her floundering, for he came to her rescue. “I grew up in Canterlot, you know, around unicorns. The airshipyards where my father worked employed quite a few as technicians. I remember watching them as a foal, and being amazed at some of the things they could do with magic. And, well, I don’t get much use out of these anyway.” He stretched out one wing. It trembled with the effort, and they all heard the quiet metal squeak of the springs in his braces as he folded it back against his barrel. “So I would be a unicorn. And you, Starlight?” “Oh, easy. Pegasus.” She smiled and looked up at the ceiling, as if she could see beyond it to the clouds and stars above. “Flying’s like it’s own magic, isn’t it? I think all ground ponies wish we could be pegasi, sometimes.” As well they should. Which made it all the crueler to have to decide to be a ground pony of some flavor. Dash licked her lips. Game. Game, this was a game. It didn’t matter what she said, she wasn’t giving up her wings. This was just a… a test, to see what kind of pony she really was. “Earth pony,” she said. “Cuz they’re strong.” “Very good.” Starlight smiled at her. “See? Now we know a little bit more about each other. Not just what our favorite color is, or favorite actor, but something important. Something about our character. Now, I think we’ll let—” “How do we win?” Rainbow asked. Starlight blinked. “Well, there is no winning, really. We keep going as long as we’re learning, or having fun, or fall asleep. Or the ghost shows up, I guess. Why?” A small grin threatened to overtake her muzzle. “Ready to quit already?” Rainbow scoffed. “Pff, right. I never quit! Bring it, sister.” “Consider it brought! And as I was saying, I think we’ll let Nutmeg go next.” “Hm.” Nutmeg lapped at his ice cream, which was well on its way to becoming peanut butter praline soup. “If you lost everything but one posession, what would it be?” “Oh, you’ve played this before, haven’t you?” Starlight said. “A few years ago, when I finished my lessons with Twilight Sparkle, she gave me a mirror covered with pictures of all of us. And in one of the pictures, she sees the camera and is trying to smile for it without being too obvious – and Rainbow you know how awkward she can be, she just looks like she’s choking on her tongue or something. And everything I love about her is in that one photo, and I guess if I could only keep one thing, I’d keep that picture. Or maybe the whole mirror.” “I’ll allow the whole mirror,” Nutmeg said. “And for me, well, I think it’s obvious. I’d keep the Orithyia, of course. That’s probably cheating, like somepony saying they’d keep their whole house, but I can’t imagine losing her. I think that might break me.” It would, Dash knew. She’d spent too many hours watching him tend to every detail of the Orithyia’s care – sanding the deck, tuning the engines, checking the gas envelope for leaks, tightening down the cargo, or any of the millions of other tasks an airship required to stay afloat. She saw in each of them how much love he felt for the ship, as though it were a lover and not a contraption of wood and metal and hydrogen. She knew his last thoughts before sleeping and his first thoughts upon waking were for the health of his ship. Losing it… Oh, the thought alone must have hurt him as much as her having to imagine being an earth pony instead of a pegasus. She swallowed. But Starlight was a crueler mare than Rainbow. A thirsty grin stretched out her muzzle. “Come now, Nutmeg, you know how this game works. The questions ought to hurt a little bit. All the best things in life do.” “You’re right, you’re right.” He breathed out, composed himself, and nodded. “I’d keep the bell. I could rebuild her again, with that one part. And isn’t there some legend, about a ship rebuilt so many times that only one original piece remains, but still it is the same ship, with the same name and soul? I think the Orithyia could be that.” Starlight’s grin softened. Just a smile, now. “I’ve heard that legend. And I think the Orithyia would be quite worthy of a modern retelling. Now… Rainbow?” “The copy of Pawn Takes Queen you got me,” she said to Nutmeg. After a pause, in which they both looked at her a bit too intently, she added, “Because I’m not done with it yet.” “Was this a book?” Starlight asked. “A… gift?” “Just a simple guidebook I found in Fillydelphia,” Nutmeg said. He looked down at his ice cream as he spoke. “I’m glad you’ve found it so helpful.” “Yeah.” A bit of pistachio caught in her throat as she spoke, breaking her voice. She cleared her throat and spoke again, firmer and louder. “Yeah. So, my turn, right?” “That’s right,” Starlight said. “Remember, a hypothetical question. It should reveal something about a pony’s character.” Hypothetical. Dash knew that word. Mostly. She couldn’t have defined it, not with words, but she knew what it meant. Not a question about something real, but about what could be, or might be. Something that would hurt a little bit, and reveal a little about a pony’s true character, whatever that meant. She let those conditions tumble around in her head like grindstones, polishing her thoughts. “How do you want to die?” she asked. “Ooh, going deep fast.” Starlight rubbed her hooves together. “Alright. I want to disappear! At the climax of some grand battle, maybe, with a blinding flash of light. And ever after, when ponies would tell stories about me, they would wonder if I was still out there somewhere. The mystery would be part of my legend.” “Suitably grand,” Nutmeg said. “I’ll take the easy answer, though. Peacefully, in my sleep, of old age. Or, at least, not dissolved and absorbed by a ghost.” “Psh. The wimpy answer, you mean,” Rainbow said. “And I think I already know what’ll happen to me. A new stunt, something nopony has ever tried before. Something so awesome and amazing that ponies will be like ‘There’s no way she can do that!’ but I’ll do it anyway! But the strain will be too much, and I’ll black out or my wings will fold, and they won’t be able to catch me, and… Yeah.” She swallowed. “Like that.” “Alternately, you could listen when ponies tell you not to do something that insane,” Nutmeg said. “Then you might make it to old age.” Ugh. Old? Her? She spent a moment imaging herself as decrepit and rundown as Granny Smith. No – never. She shook her head. “Well, I hope that’s a wish that doesn’t come true,” Starlight said. “My turn again? Maybe something a little less morose. What trait do you want in a lover, but not a partner?” Rainbow flushed, and took a quick slurp from her ice cream to hide it. She hadn’t thought the game would go down that avenue. But they were all friends here, so she mared up and went with the first thought to cross her mind. “A lover has to be as awesome as I am. A partner has to be a great friend… but maybe not as awesome, you know? That would be crazy.” “Surely you’ll never have any lovers, then, for nopony’s as awesome as Rainbow Dash,” Starlight said. “Nutmeg?” “Hm.” He tilted his head. “A lover mustn’t mind that I am always flying away. A partner who is willing to fly with me.” “Poetic.” Rainbow flicked him with a wingtip. “Practice that much?” His turn to blush. He shuffled atop his bedroll, then turned to Starlight. His ears danced back and forth between them, though. Starlight took her time. Much longer than she had for the other questions. Long enough that Dash wondered if she were going to pass on the question entirely. Then, finally, she nodded. “I want a partner as much like me as possible. And a lover as unlike me as exists anywhere in the world.” “Wow.” Rainbow snorted. “Vague enough?” “Vague answers are allowed, Miss Dash, as long as they reveal something.”  “Thank you, Nutmeg.” Starlight paused to nibble on her cookie. “Your turn, I believe?” “So it is. And something a little less risque, perhaps. What is your greatest fear?” “Uh.” A cold breeze crept up Dash’s spine. She glanced over at Starlight, who had an equally troubled look on her face. “Uh. You first, Nutmeg.” “Ghosts?” He chuckled. “Fine. Hm. I’m afraid of not being able to fly.” Starlight glanced at his wings and raised an eyebrow. “I’m… sorry, I thought…” “There’s more than one way to fly.” He tilted his head toward the window, beyond which their iceberg hung serenely amidst the stars. “Of course, silly of me.” Her ears relaxed a bit at the passing tension. “As for me… you know I used to do some bad things. Rainbow, you were one of the ponies I hurt—” “Hey.” Rainbow’s ears folded back, and her muscles bunched beneath her coat. “That was years ago. You don’t have to—” “It’s fine.” Starlight held up a hoof to stop her. “It should hurt a little, remember?” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Anyway, I hurt a lot of ponies. And I’ve spent years trying to make up for it, learning to be a new pony. A better mare. But my biggest fear is that I did something I can’t fix. That one of the ponies I hurt is out there somewhere, and they never got better from what I did. And no matter what I do, they’ll never get better, and I won’t even know that I ruined their life because by the time I realized how wrong I was and starting trying to fix things, they were already gone.” Nopony spoke after that. Starlight looked down at her crossed forelegs, while Nutmeg watched her, his face as expressionless as when they would play cards on the Orithyia’s deck at night. Rainbow glanced between them, her heart beating faster and faster as the silence drew out, praying one of them would break it. But neither did, so she swallowed and spoke. “I’m afraid of losing.” Nutmeg raised an eyebrow. “Is… that all?” “Well, you know.” Rainbow rolled her shoulders. Anything to loosen the knot forming between her wings. “Like, losing’s not so bad, I guess. It’s all the ponies watching. Cuz then everypony sees me lose.” “Everypony loses sometimes, Miss Dash. Most ponies lose most of the time, in fact. There’s no shame in that.” “Losing…” She gestured with her wings vaguely, trying to explain it that way. “Losing means you’re not as good as you thought. As other ponies thought. It means I’ve been faking it. I’m just an imposter, pretending to be awesome. That’s what it means.” She licked her lips. They were dry and tasted like sugar and pistachio. “Why did unicorns invent this game, again?” “So we’d have something to do in parlours.” Starlight let out another breath. “And learn more about each other. But, you’re right, we need a lighter question! And it just so happens to be your turn, Rainbow!” “Um.” Rainbow checked the tank and found it empty. “Uh, pass. Come back to me.” “Okay.” Starlight smiled, showing her teeth again. “Let’s have some fun. Favorite sexual position?” Dash flushed again. She knew Starlight was… well, she was Starlight. Perhaps she should’ve expected this. She glanced over at Nutmeg. His wings jerked at the question. “That’s hardly hypothetical, Miss Glimmer!” “Fine, fine.” She pursed her lips, then smiled again. “Hypothetical. If you could only have one sexual position for the rest of your life, what would it be?” He snorted and shook his wings, settling them back into position. “Clever. And any position where I’m doing the penetrating. How’s that?” “Vague, but satisfactory. And predictable for a stallion.” Starlight grinned. She wasn’t blushing at all. “Rainbow?” Oookay. Okay. No problem. She fixed her gaze on Starlight’s forehead, just beneath her horn, and didn’t let it waver. “Any where I’m on top. Duh.” “Could’ve predicted that too. Maybe not such a good question.” Her eyes slid back and forth between them, and finally she nodded. “Well, since we’re declaring vague preferences, I’ll go with any position where I can look my lover in her eyes. How’s that?” “Weak,” Rainbow declared. She fanned her wings to get a bit of a breeze going – the desert air wasn’t cooling the mansion off as fast as she’d expected. Soon they’d be sweating. “Nutmeg, your turn. Try to make it funny—” A loud crash interrupted her from within the mansion. Something falling and breaking. It stirred eddies in the dust and vibrated the floorboards beneath them. Before she realized it, Dash was already standing, her wings out and ready to fly. Nutmeg was only a second behind. Starlight was last, her hooves tangling in the blanket as she scrambled to her hooves. Her horn flashed with a lavender light, filling out the shadows. “It was in there,” Dash said. Without waiting for the others she trotted through an empty doorway into the next room. It was dark, but her pegasus eyes picked out the details easily enough. A dining room, or something similar – a long wood table resisted the rot and decay that had engulfed the rest of the house. Broken, smashed chairs lay in heaps around it. A chandelier hung at an angle above it all, wreathed in decades of spider webs.  And on the floor, beyond the table, something new. A white sheet, untouched by the dust or the desert or cobwebs. Rainbow trotted over and carefully picked it up. A bedsheet, and somepony had drawn two big black circles on it, about the size of her hoof, and below it a serrated mouth. “A… ghost costume?” She glanced back at Starlight. “Uh.” Starlight shifted her weight. “Clearly this is the remains of some prank, probably by teenagers. I bet they use it to try and scare—” “Are those your saddlebags beside it?” Nutmeg asked. He gestured at a pair of fashionable saddlebags stuffed under the table, each neatly stitched with Starlight’s cutie mark. “Why… yes! Cleary, some thief stole them while we were getting ice cream, and—” “Okay, enough.” Rainbow dropped the sheet. “Enough playing along. Starlight, we’re not idiots. We know you planted these. We know there’s no secret mission. We—I know you’re just along because Rarity or one of the girls put you up to it to try and hook me up with Nutmeg. Okay? And I sure as Tartarus know there’s no ghost in this—” A tremendous roar interrupted her, drowning out all sound and even thought. The house shook from foundation to roof. The chandelier broke free and fell onto the table with a windchime-like crash that Dash could barely hear over the ringing in her ears. The fire in the lounge went out, plunging them into darkness, broken only by the light of Starlight’s horn. Rainbow fell to her knees, drew in a breath to shout, and choked on an abandoned mansion’s worth of dust. She gagged and gasped and tried to cough it out. The house settled after a few moments. Throughout the mansion came more crashes, echoing dimly, as more furniture gave up the fight and collapsed. Somepony groaned. Oh, that was her. She spat again and tried to breathe. “Is everypony alright?” Nutmeg said. Rainbow looked up to see him beside Starlight, whose eyes were wide with panic. “Rainbow?” “I’m fine.” She spat out a wad of dusty phlegm. “Starlight…” “That wasn’t me.” Her horn glowed brighter, and Rainbow felt an unseen force helping her too her hooves. “C’mon, we need to get out of here.” They scrambled into the lounge. The magical fire had blown out, leaving only a shower of fading azure cinders that drifted out onto the hearth. But far more alarming was the window – where before they had a clear view of the night and the mountains and the iceberg floating above town, now there was a simple brick wall, mouldered and cracked with age. They stared at it dumbly. “I didn’t do that, either,” Starlight said. “Okay, stay calm,” Nutmeg said. “We need to figure out what’s going on, and—” Something moved on the second floor. The timbers above them groaned beneath its weight. Dust drifted down from the ceiling in a trail that began in the center of the room, and slowly migrated toward the center of the house. A hollow moan, like the wind blowing through old bones, drifted to them from the black corridors. They both stared at Starlight. She shrugged. “And I definitely didn’t do that."