Pinkie Pie’s eyes opened to meet a room consumed by darkness.
The feeling of magical energy coursing like liquid fire through her veins had all but abandoned her, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Likewise the comforting warmth of the Element of Laughter beside her heart had left, making her feel strangely cold without its soothing rhythmic pulse.
She was trapped in a nightmare, a sinister web spun from the blackest depths of the Shadow’s imagination.
Pinkie took a step forward, noticing the puffs of fog that left her muzzle as she took a breath, wisps of warm air that evaporated into the freezing darkness. An ominous silence surrounded her, squeezed her, clung to her skin; the shadows had drowned out all noise and left only the silence. Always the silence.
The shadows were everywhere, stretching from the cold stone walls and onto the ground, tainting the grey floor black. They crept from corners of walls and from the corners of Pinkie’s vision, inch by inch stalking her and watching her every move. If she closed her eyes she could feel the fear dripping from the air, oozing past her eyes and nostrils, consuming her mind and senses.
Suddenly her eyes jolted open and her mind snapped to attention. Something was watching her, watching her and waiting…or someone.
Pinkie could feel his presence, feel it in the rapid beating of her heart and in the shadows that lurked between the cracks of the stone cell walls which surrounded her. His magic was intermixed with the air, entering her lungs at every breath, altering her mind and perceptions.
Pinkie Pie laughed, shattering the oppressive silence. She could feel the darkness recoil at her laughter, silently hissing in outrage. “Is that it?” she called out into the black. “Did you really think you could scare me by putting me in a creepy old cell? ‘Cause y’know, this would be great for a Night Mare Night prank, but I don’t think it’s enough to actually scare me into submission.”
A deafening rumble filled her ears and a cloud of dust blasted her vision; she squeezed her eyes shut as the irritating particles assaulted her eyes. When the ringing in her ears faded away, she peeked one eye open; the dust had settled into a fine mist that hung low over the ground.
All of the walls around her had crumbled, proving to be only another illusion. The freezing stone beneath her hooves had also changed, becoming dry and dusty—dead earth that matched the dead lands surrounding her. Trees dotted the landscape as far as she could see with an endless cloud of pale fog choking the land, trees that were bare of any leaves or fruit, trees that were naught but dark shadows in the fog.
The fog…felt familiar.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her senses rekindle the fires of memory, struggling to open one locked door to a room which held the answer to the ominous sense of déjà vu lurking in her mind. Pinkie opened her eyes, still confused, until she saw one sight that made everything click.
Two bright red dots shone brightly, piercing through the fog. Leaning forward and squinting, she suddenly realized that it was a pair of glowing eyes.
Instantly the door burst open; her memories came rushing back to her in a flood of information that nearly overloaded her brain. Images and memories flashed across her eyelids: a balloon garden frozen in time, a monster trembling in fear, an all-consuming fog in a graveyard of secrets…a shadowed nightmare.
This is the same place the Shadow had last tried to break her with fear, a graveyard woven from his own twisted mind.
Pinkie giggled at the memory of the scariest pony she’d ever seen trembling like a schoolfilly. “Hey, Mr. Shadow! Remember the last time we were here?”
The silhouette in the fog winced; the two red dots blinked out for only a moment. His deep voice rumbled across the plain, seeming to echo from everywhere at once carrying his reply: “There are new graves.”
New…graves?
Pinkie trotted over to the closest gravestone, a bleak gray rock jutting out of the dead ground. Five others accompanied it, including a recently dug uncovered grave at the end of the line.
She leaned down towards the headstone; its scratched lettering was hard to read in the all-consuming fog that filled the landscape. Pinkie was barely able to make out two words carved into the rock, above a small paragraph of smaller letters:
Twilight Sparkle
Morbidly intrigued, the pink pony leaned closer to make out the tiny paragraph. By the dim light of the fog, it appeared to be written completely by shadow.
A brilliant leader,
A sweet, caring friend;
This all-too-young mare
Fought evil to the end.
A powerful vision suddenly assaulted Pinkie, seizing control of her mind and filling her senses with alien feelings:
The cold road beneath her chest sapped away Pinkie’s strength, though already she was paralyzed with fear and with despair, watching on in horror as two unicorn mares turned their great powers against each other, using it to tear each other apart. Blinding flashes erupted across the road as glowing bolts of golden and violet energy sailed through the air, exploding as they collided with their target. Suddenly a beam of brilliant golden energy shot from one side, met with an equally brilliant beam of violet. The two beams met in the middle; thousands of fiery sparks flew from their point of collision, searing the ground all around them a shade of burnt black. Although the two rays of power seemed to be evenly matched, eventually the yellow won out; its glorious light pushed back the dark purple until Twilight, weary beyond comprehension, gave up. A deafening CLANG rang out as the Element of Magic fell to the ground…
Pinkie backed up, suddenly feeling unsure. A feeling of despair crawled out of the darkest depths of her mind and into its forefront, pushing back the sense of confidence that she had previously held. Could it be true? Could Twilight lose to the Element of Power…?
…nah. She’d never lost a magical duel before, right?
She looked down and was startled to find herself staring at the second gravestone, even though she hadn’t moved an inch. This is a nightmare, Pinkie, she reminded herself. Nothing here is real.
Some of the fog had cleared, making it slightly easier to read the heading on the second gravestone. Either that or her eyes had adjusted to the fog. Not even having to squint her eyes, Pinkie read:
Fluttershy
A kind soul and a friend to all,
For this mare heeded nature’s call;
An unnatural enemy was her fall.
An unnatural enemy…?
Another vision seized control of her mind.
Suddenly she was floating in midair; chaos surrounded her. The air rebelled against itself; its particles vibrated and shot every which way, completely out of control. One second the air was hot, the next her breath turned to mist and then ice. Every blade of grass on the ground stood stiff, dead and brown. Then red. Then pink. Every tree hung over, bent to the will of Discord. Fluttershy was nowhere to be seen, most likely in hiding…In a sudden blur of color Pinkie’s vision panned to the side, making her feel dizzy. As her eyes readjusted to the scene below, Pinkie found herself staring at a horrific sight: In an attempt to save a small bunny that had been transformed into a mutant and a monster, Fluttershy had called on her magic to heal the poor creature. Her body lay still in its mouth.
Jerking her head out of the vision, Pinkie Pie tried to shut out the horrified thoughts bouncing around in her brain: Could it be true? Was it possible? Did she die?
Bum-bum.
The beating of her heart pounded in Pinkie’s ears, reverberating in her skull, syncing with the rapidly accelerating breaths that shot past her nostrils in a mad rush to escape. Pinkie looked down at her hooves, covered in crumbling dirt from the dead ground beneath her.
Bum-bum.
Her hooves were shaking, trembling ever-so-slightly in the breeze. But it had nothing to do with the cold.
Bum-bum. Bum-bum.
Pinkie turned her gaze up from the ground to find herself staring at the third grave in the line. She desperately tried to look away, at anywhere, anything but the cold heartless stone in front of her, but her hooves were rooted to the spot. Her body was completely paralyzed.
Bum-bum. Bum-bum.
“There is no escape.” the monotone voice reverberated across the plain, sounding closer. Her heart pounded faster and faster; with all of the force she could muster Pinkie squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to face the Wielder of Fear.
Fear…
A tiny memory blossomed in Pinkie Pie’s mind, sprouting out of the death and the shadows; one ray of sunlight that pierced the whirling storm.
When I was a little filly and the sun was going do~own…
Bum…bum.
Her heartbeat began to slow; its rapid throbbing died down to a soothing, rhythmic pulse. The memories spread through her mind like a wildfire, scalding the anxious fears that had taken root.
The darkness and the shadows, they would always make me fro~own.
A thousand images flashed past her eyelids, sights and sounds, memories. Memories of joy. Memories of fun. Memories of shared friendship.
I'd hide under my pillow
From what I thought I saw
But Granny Pie said that wasn't the way
To deal with fears at all…
Memories of laughter.
She said: "Pinkie, you gotta stand up tall.
Learn to face your fears.
You'll see that they can't hurt you;
just laugh to make them disappear…
“HA. HA. HA.”
A brilliant explosion rocked the endless graveyard, shaking the earth beneath her hooves and sending out a visible shockwave across the dead ground. In an instant all six graves burst into a beautiful cyan inferno, obliterating the bleak grey headstones with their accompanying vision. The fire rose up into the sky, twisting like a playful serpent, then fell down and spread across the land, clearing all of the fog.
About ten feet away, Pinkie saw an armored figure wincing, his glowing eyes squeezed tightly shut as he backed away from the uncontrollable fire. She trotted toward him, a spark of determination alight in her eyes; the Nightmare’s stared back with fear. His horn glowed black and a deadly beam of raw power careened towards her, slicing through the air like hot butter, hissing as it rapidly approached.
Time slowed down as the black beam neared, aimed directly at Pinkie’s heart. She could feel its presence; an aura that exuded raw terror—it was a spell that could strip her mental protections bare and free her worst fears from the blackest depths of her mind; this was a spell conjured by sheer desperation.
Staring into the approaching abyss, Pinkie smiled.
She felt the heaviness of the pendant on her chest, pulsing in perfect synchronization with her heart, spreading warmth through her entire body. Calling upon its magic, she generated a reflective shield upon her, shimmering with glowing blue energy.
Let’s see what you’re afraid of.
The beam rebounded and struck its master, who fell back, startled beyond comprehension. A tiny pinprick of a hole opened atop his chest, quickly expanding into a pony-sized rip in the fabric of space and time. Like a powerful wormhole it consumed everything; its suction drew in both Pinkie and her victim foe.
The last thing that Pinkie Pie saw before blacking out was a black door, chained shut; its chains had been shattered and it was wide open. Beyond the door…
Pinkie Pie’s eyes closed and she gave in to the dark abyss of sleep.
The first and only sound that Pinkie heard was an unfamiliar voice crying out into the night, sorrow meeting despair in his voice:
Brother?
She opened her eyes.
A shadow black as midnight hung over the silent wooden shack, lost in the center of a nameless forest.
Though the dilapidated shack, timeless yet ancient in this wood forgotten by Time, sat proudly atop a mighty hill…over the years it had inevitably fallen. The beautiful meadow that had once swathed the rolling hillside in beautiful shades of emerald was gone, consumed by a dark and blackened forest. Not one space of open meadow was left; not one trace of hope remained…except for one tiny clearing, one snake of open space left in this twisted place. A trail, from nothing into nothing, led up to the front door of the shack. Although its sole inhabitant had lost faith in escaping this prison realm…there was still a way out.
It was upon this broken trail with black evergreens and thorny vines looming over it from every side that the mare called Pinkie Pie awoke. Even she had to pause for a moment, to turn in a circle and fully take in the atmosphere of tranquil desolation; such a depressing setting was something she had never before encountered in her happy-go-lucky, carefree life in Ponyville.
Not even she had a joke to say upon awakening in this realm, a single spoken word to break the dead peace which choked all and any remaining life from this bleak wood. Slowly she rose and trotted toward the gloomy shack, not knowing at all what she would find inside.
Upon arriving at the shack’s door, constructed of flimsy rotten planks that seemed to be one touch away from falling apart completely, she paused. No matter how hard Pinkie tried, she could not remember how she had come to this dead, forgotten land--she tried and tried, but her memories were a crimson pheonix: elusive and free, flying just beyond her reach.
Pinkie opened the door, which let out a loud CREEAAAAK and shattered the oppressive silence that had consumed the countryside. The dim light outside spilled into this pitch-black room; her presence alone drove back the darkness inside this final refuge for a shaded soul.
Glancing around, the first thing that Pinkie noticed was a large pile of crumpled papers sitting on the broken wood floor. She picked one open with her hoof and unfurled it, taking care not to rip the tattered and crumpled paper, delicate and broken as if it had been spun from gossamer thread and then crushed with vehement fury. Her eyes widened with confusion, her pupils slowly adjusting to the near-nonexistent light in this shack forgotten by the shadow.
On the crumpled paper, with delicate strokes that had been smashed in pure anger was…a painting. It took a moment that lasted a lifetime for Pinkie to stare at the drawing, to comprehend the scene that it depicted.
The painting was of…her.
It showed what could have been any day in her happy life in Ponyville, sitting out in the open market. Rays of golden sunshine rained down from the clear blue sky, swathing the colorful town below in an aura of contentment. All of the ponies below were going about their day, laughing and smiling as they innocently trotted from place to place, blissfully unaware…of what? Pinkie herself was in the center of the painting, her eyes closed, a huge smile stretched across her radiant face. She sat at a simple picnic table in the market square, and she was holding a daisy sandwich in her front hooves. She was just taking a moment to savor another simple joy of life, feeling no worries, knowing no pain. However, something seemed out of place…
Pinkie knew every single pony in Ponyville, every stallion, mare, filly and colt that had walked the cobbled roads of her hometown. Whoever had painted this obviously also had some knowledge of the town’s residents, as everypony in the picture was based on an actual pony that lived in the real town.
Every pony…but one.
Sitting in the background, barely even noticeable, was a pony that Pinkie had never seen before. He completely blended in; no other ponies in the painting seemed to notice him. Yet Pinkie was completely certain that she had never before laid eyes on the school-age colt that sat two tables away from Pinkie, looking over at her without her taking notice. Still, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he too was eating a sandwich and grinning from ear to ear.
With a sudden chill she realized who that pony bore an uncanny resemblance to. His coat was dark blue as the midnight sky; his eyes were deep red. But…no, that couldn’t be who she was thinking of. The unicorn horn atop his head was whole and unbroken, protruding from a short, wavy purple mane which flowed back as if blown by the wind. This colt had a short, scruffy tail, the same deep purple as his mane, whereas the Shadow was completely bald over his entire body. Instead of a glowing bloodred, his irises were dark maroon, warm and soothing. Where the Shadow’s ears fell low over his head, ripped and scarred, this pony’s elfin ears curled up into the air, perky and betraying a carefree state of mind. He wore nothing but a pair of thick black glasses—no shiny chrome armor, no silver mask, no gleaming claws unsheathed from his front hoof. This couldn’t be the same pony.
Pinkie gently set down the beautiful work of art on the floor, next to the crumpled pile of countless others. She reached down and picked up another, carefully unwrapping it, smoothing the angry creases that had been forced into it by the hoof of its creator. This painting, far from being a realistic scene, was a surreal portrait of the same blue pony. And yet, he was not the same at all.
His purple mane was completely gone, seared off of his smooth bald head, leaving angry black scars in its place. The scars could heal with time, yet his mane would never return…leaving him with the same baldness as the Shadow's. Likewise his tail was nowhere to be seen. His horn was snapped in the middle, ending in a blunt stub; his eyes were the same color of maroon, and yet instead of joy, they were filled with moist sorrow. The smile which had brightened the pony’s dark face was gone. Instead this colt wore an expression of terror; his emotion-filled eyes stretched wide, staring up through the nonexistent wall of canvas in fear. Was he scared of her, or of…? Pinkie stared closer at the painting, examining it closely, until she unfurled the very top, which had been concealed in one final curl of the crushed artwork.
One final detail in the painting sent a cold shiver down Pinkie’s back. Thin black strings descended from above like strands of spider silk, wrapping around all of his limbs in such a way that Pinkie had not noticed before. All of the cords converged in two crossed strips of wood, the puppet master’s tool of power, his method of control that had been hidden in the angry fold. Above the cross was one face, barely visible in the darkness. Its coat matched that of the colt under its control, and yet it had a formal, stylish gray mane and wore a translucent red monocle over one eye. A tight grin stretched across the stallion’s face; his bloodred eyes glared down at the tortured colt below him with an expression of satisfaction and of amusement.
At the bottom of the painting were three simple words, etched as if in an afterthought: A Shaded Soul.
A shaded soul.
For some reason, those words sounded familiar to Pinkie, although she couldn’t quite place why.
Thunder boomed in the distance, jolting Pinkie Pie from her puzzled thoughts. She turned and glanced out the door at the cloud-infested sky, suddenly noticing just how much the bleak storm above her contrasted with the beautiful sunshine in the first painting.
Pinkie turned back to the darkness of the room, a shadow that seemed almost to be alive—pulsing and shifting with conscious thought, glaring at her through invisible eyes. She took a couple steps forward and as her eyes began to adjust to the shadow of darkness…she noticed the outline of another pony, sitting on the opposite side of the room.
Another bolt of lightning lit up the emptiness, driving back the shadow for only a second. Pinkie’s eyes took in everything that it revealed about the room—five empty stone pedestals, filthy and drenched in mud as if they had been recently dug out of the ground, several tables covered in messy scrolls and books, and…a young colt, in the middle of painting a large drawing on the other side of the room.
“Soul Shade?”
Pinkie’s voice broke the deafening silence, shattered the tranquil air of empty depression that had overtaken the room. A second sound, a loud THUNK and the rattle of something rolling onto the floor, revealed that the other pony had dropped his paintbrush. From the darkness, a tiny crimson glow pulsed onto the wall.
She heard three deep breaths in a very unfamiliar voice, the voice of a frightened child attempting to sound tough and intimidating. Then the voice spoke out a quick succession of words, woven from careful thought and strung with lies: “My name is The Shadow. Now get out of my pris-” the voice hesitated for less than a second before returning to a monotone. “Get out of my house before I torture you with nightmares.”
Yet, despite all of the effort he had put into the words…the colt could not stop one tiny thread of bitter sadness from sneaking into the emotionless weave of his single thought.
Pinkie Pie took another step closer, her eyes beginning to adjust to the shadow. “Soul Shade…I don’t think you will.”
She saw his entire body vibrate with anger, and then whirl around to finally face the mare who had invaded the deepest level of his mind.
The colt in front of Pinkie was the very same one from the second painting, young yet scarred; though his demeanor emanated pure fury, his deep maroon eyes betrayed a child’s fear. Around his neck hung the familiar black-and-gray pendant of power, the Element of Fear, pulsing with dark energy. All of the burns depicted in the painting had healed, but as Pinkie had predicted, none of his mane or tail had grown back. His deep maroon eyes betrayed the very same fear of the painting. Is he scared of me, or of…?
Finally the voice spoke again, no longer hiding behind the monotone façade of intimidation that had failed so miserably before. “Well…now you can see who I really am. Go ahead, laugh at me. I know you want to, miss Element of Laugher.”
Pinkie frowned. He’s not afraid of me for who I am. He’s afraid that I would laugh at him... Dropping her voice to a soft whisper, Pinkie replied “I wouldn’t laugh at you, Soul Shade…not even a little giggle. I don’t laugh at my friends when it hurts them.” She reached out a hoof towards him in an attempt at compassion.
With sudden vehemence he swatted her hoof away, his eyes glowing bright red for a fraction of a second. Soul Shade looked down and took several deep breaths, and then snapped his head back up to glare at her. “Everything I’ve done to you was to hurt you. All I ever wanted was for you to fear me, for everypony to fear me…and yet, after all this…you would dare to call me a FRIEND?!”
“Of course I would!”
Soul Shade rose up towards her, looming over Pinkie Pie, stretching out a hoof to punch her in the face...
…and broke down crying against her shoulder.
The Element of Fear fell off of his neck and rattled against the floor, its momentum carrying it away from the two ponies and out of the door.
Soul Shade stayed against Pinkie’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, shuddering as the suppressed emotions one by one spilled out of his tightly squeezed eyes. Pinkie, feeling awkward yet not cruel enough to push him away, reached out and patted his back to console him.
They sat there for an eternity in a minute, the silence passing over them like the storm clouds which floated overhead, grumbling with distant thunder. Eventually the colt’s tears stopped flowing; his shallow breaths once again became slow and calm; his frantic heartbeat died to a calming rhythmic pulse.
A wisp of black smoke, naught but a shadow against the darkness, passed by the door, watching the two ponies…always watching for the shaded soul to emerge. In an instant it was gone, blown away by a warm breeze that was an anomaly in the frozen rain of the storm.
Pinkie spoke up again, her sweet, friendly voice filled with cautious hesitation: “Mr. Shady? Does this mean that you would want to befriend all my other friends too?”
He jerked back, his eyes once again flashing bloodred, and for half a second an unconscious scowl seized his face. Then, for the first time, a tiny smile grew onto his face, shining brighter than the sun. “If they’re not afraid of me, then…I think…I think I might like that idea.”
Pinkie chuckled, and then suddenly she had a horrified thought--would Soul Shade hate her for laughing? She looked over to him, sure that his eyes would once again glow with fury…
…and he was laughing right with her. She closed her eyes and the two ponies laughed together, both with closed eyes, both with wide smiles that were destined to wither and die.
If either had been looking and not seized by the moment, they would have seen a tiny wisp of black smoke enter through the open door and flow directly into Pinkie Pie. She jerked up and her eyes widened as fresh memories poured into her mind, shattering the calm, timeless atmosphere and filling her with a new sense of urgency. She stood up and turned towards the door; her voice broke the tranquil silence: “I probably need to go back now…I bet my friends are missing me, and I’d never want to make them scared about what could happen to me.”
The deep, emotion-filled eyes that had known joy but for a moment once again shimmered with unspilt tears. “You have to go? Can’t we stay here…?”
Pinkie’s head shook from side to side in silent resolution. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon though, right? Could we maybe hang out sometime?”
Soul Shade turned back to his drawing, noiselessly seething in bitter fury. If Pinkie had turned around towards the door, she would have noticed Soul Shade crumpling the painting A Shaded Soul and throwing it back into the pile with all of the force his magic could muster. He levitated his carving knife back up in front of his face, stabbing it into the frame of the beautiful painting hidden by the shadow, the one piece of artwork that he could never crumple, his proudest work that he had recreated from memory.
Choosing not to reply to his guest, Soul Shade scratched three words into the simple wood of the frame below the painting, impossible to read for his visitor. It was the title of the one painting he could not destroy, which had lived on in his memory despite the passing of time:
Harmony in Equestria.
A barely audible sigh escaped his lips.
Pinkie Pie turned around and stepped out of the broken door to the shack, but then hesitated and glanced back over her shoulder. She frowned and asked one final question: “Wait...is this just a dream, or really happening?”
Soul Shade did not turn around. “Your choice.”
Black fog filled Pinkie’s vision and she blacked out.
Soul Shade sighed and let the voices in his head have free reign, shouting and whispering in anger and in grief.
She’s gone.
So? You didn’t want her in here anyway.
Didn’t I?
Otherwise why would you put up all of those roadblocks?
That wasn’t me; that was the Shadow and you know it.
Are you sure?
The voices became an annoying buzz to Soul Shade as he stared out the open door, at the single road leading out of his prison. His own voice, eternally arguing with itself, was drowned out by another that would not leave and was destined to haunt him forever, recreated by the cruel power of memory: Pinkie Pie’s.
I’ll see you soon though, right? Could we maybe hang out sometime?
Her voice had made it seem like…like she actually wanted to know him, to spend time with him. It was a strange feeling to be wanted.
Suddenly seized by a sense of determination, Soul Shade stood up and took a step out the door. He slammed it behind him, causing the rotten wooden door to fall off its hinges and splinter into pieces on the broken ground with a deafening THUD.
In a cloud of black smoke that descended from the thundering clouds, the silhouette of his twisted reflection appeared in front of him, blocking his path. A familiar monotone voice spoke directly into his mind: “And where do you think you’re going?”
“Get your flank out of my way, you freak.”