//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Answers // Story: Everfree // by Dusk Quill //------------------------------// The mansion felt even more oppressive and daunting now. Fleethoof and Midnight Dasher walked without so much as a word to one another. Midnight was still grieving for her lost friend, and Fleethoof didn’t know how to ease her suffering. Time healed all wounds, but time was not something he could conjure up—though it had become dreadfully clear that somepony could. After an indiscernible amount of time had passed and Midnight had cried herself nearly to exhaustion, they had set out from the medical station. Now there was nothing but lingering stillness.         The corridors were completely silent as they traversed the mansion. It was like all the zombies had vanished without a trace—or they were expertly avoiding them without intent. They had searched this entire half of the building for a door that Midnight’s key would open, but it was to no avail. Every room was surprisingly open now. It brought hope to Fleethoof. It meant somepony else was looking for a way out too.         Maybe the others found their way here, he dared to hope. He sincerely hoped they were, and that an escape would present itself soon. They were running dangerously low on ammunition, and they would have greater strength in numbers. He knew that Blackjack, Daybreak, and Nocturne were dead, but that still left about half of Ghost Team alive.         They trekked across the foyer’s upper level, making their way across to the other side of the mansion to begin their search for the hidden door the key would open. Midnight was silent as ever. A look at her expression told Fleethoof that she was lost in thought. He didn’t want to disturb her.         “Can we play a game…?”         Midnight’s voice startled Fleethoof in the otherwise deathly silent corridor. He turned to look at her quickly. She was still staring at the floor in front of her hooves, but she had definitely just spoken.         “A game?”         She nodded. “Blackjack and I would play a guessing game with one another whenever we had to pass time on a mission. It used to help make me feel better when I first started out on difficult missions, so… maybe it'd help now…?”         Fleethoof was quiet for a moment, and then he nodded. Anything that could help bring her comfort would be worth it. “What’s the game?”         “We make statements trying to guess the other pony’s life, history, things like that, until we get something wrong. Then the other pony goes, and so on.”         Fleethoof was apprehensive, but agreed. “Okay. Go on then.”         Midnight looked over at Fleethoof, looking him over from head to tail. “You’re twenty-two years old.”         “You read that in my file,” said Fleethoof with a hard chuckle. “Is that the best you can do?”         The mare was quiet for a moment, contemplating her next move. “You’re an only child.”         Fleethoof didn’t respond, so Midnight continued again. “You grew up without a parent.”         Again no response. Midnight pursed her lips, her brow furrowing as she tried to think of something to ruffle his feathers.         “You’ve never been mutually in love before.”         Something shifted in his eyes and he opened his mouth, but again, Fleethoof remained silent as the grave. It was starting to get incredibly frustrating for her—but Midnight still had a few tricks up her sleeve.         She grinned mischievously. “I’m gonna follow that with you’re probably a virgin too.”         That got his attention. He came to a stop, and Fleethoof’s gaze snapped quickly to Midnight, locking his eyes with hers. Much to her delight, she saw his wings bristle slightly, but still, the pegasus refused to speak.         “Oh, come on! If that didn’t get you to say anything, what will? You’ve gotta play along!”         “There was no way I was responding to that,” said Fleethoof in calm reply, carrying on down the hall. “And I am playing. I haven’t said anything because maybe you haven’t been wrong yet.”         “Are you serious?!” Midnight asked, her pitch elevated in clear amusement and glee.         Fleethoof opened his mouth to speak, but opted instead to push ahead of her without a word. Midnight giggled to herself and followed closely behind. She could feel her spirits pull together enough to keep herself from falling apart again. Playing the old game she and Blackjack had played together made her feel like her old self again, and put the dark thoughts out of her head. But more importantly, she was learning things about him.         “Hmm… Okay, I’m gonna say your favorite season is spring.”         Fleethoof gave an exaggerated motion of rolling his eyes as he checked a door, scowling as it opened without resistance. Open doors were useless. “Come on, how can you even guess something like that?”         Midnight Dasher gave him a wide, self-satisfied smile. “That was an easy one. Most ponies prefer the spring.”         He groaned and rolled his eyes again. They proceeded further down the hall, coming to a flight of stairs and taking them down to the ground level.         “After tonight, that might remain to be seen…” he muttered.         “Okay, still my go… Let’s see… I’m gonna say that you’re fiercely protective of your friends to the end.”         “No, really?” His sarcastic remark made Midnight roll her eyes. They progressed to another door. “All my time in the Guard didn’t give that away?”         “I meant before the Guard. You’re a stickler for rules and order, but you’ve gotten into serious trouble for a friend before, haven’t you?”         Fleethoof stood as still as a statue. His hoof lingered on the handle and Midnight could see his shoulders tense up. Something she had said had struck a nerve deep in the stallion’s mind. He pushed the handle down, and muttered a silent profanity as it opened into a small cubby space filled with cleaning supplies.         “Now then, let’s see—”         “I’m never going to get a turn, am I?” asked Fleethoof teasingly as they stepped through a door into another dark corridor.         Midnight giggled to herself. “You have to wait until I get something wrong first.”         “Guess something about my job, then it’ll be my turn forever.”         Midnight Dasher gave a perfect deadpan laugh and followed him down the dimly lit hallway. “I’m not that dumb. I’m gonna guess that even though you pretend like I bug you, you really do like me deep down.”         “’Pretend’?” Fleethoof shook his head with a chuckle. “Midnight, there’s no pretending to be annoyed by you. But you’re right, I do appreciate you being here and looking out for me—so yes, I suppose I do like you.”         An excited squee came from the filly. “I knew it! I knew you really did like me, Fleety!”          “Don't push it.”         “Do you like me enough to break whatever laws you did for your other friends?”         Fleethoof furrowed his brow. “Who said I broke any laws?”         “Nopony. I’m just really good at this game.”         “That’s an understatement…”         That drew another giggle from the bat pony. “So you’d die for your friends… Would you die for me?”         Again, Fleethoof came to a full stop in his tracks. He turned to look at Midnight's intense and eager eyes, his own gaze cool and professional, but with a softness behind it that she hadn’t seen in the stallion’s eyes before. He looked at her with a half-cocked smile.         “I guess we’ll have to see if that moment ever comes up…” He turned to the nearest door, and paused as he scrutinized the emblem carved into it. “Midnight, that key you have—what symbol is on it?”         Midnight produced the key from her armor, studying the emblem on it. “It looks like an eight-pointed star… Why?”         With a triumphant grin, Fleethoof pointed at the door they had come up to. An eight-pointed star was carved into the wood. Midnight felt a smile creep across her face as well, and hurriedly rushed up to open it. They key fit in perfectly, and with a twist, the lock opened.         Midnight Dasher pushed the door open and took a look around the room. It was a small, cramped study, with little more than a couple of cabinets and a desk. She scrunched her muzzle as she inspected the office space. It smelled faintly of dust and tobacco.         Fleethoof slowly stepped in behind her and shut the door. It was definitely not what he had been anticipating to find. So much for an exit… Why can’t we have nice things? he thought despondently as he studied the contents of the nearest cabinet. It was filled with old knick-knacks and photographs—mementos left behind by whoever occupied this room.         He picked up one of the photos as Midnight began to examine the desk. In the yellowed, grainy photograph, two unicorns—a stallion and mare—and a zebra stood in front of the mansion. Something had been written in the corner of the picture, and once Fleethoof had removed it from its home, he read: Obsidian Spell, Melody, and Isingoma founding the Everfree Mansion.         So these must have been the ponies who lived here… Fleethoof thought as he set the picture down again. He screwed his eyes to focus on the blurred cutie mark on the flank of the stallion. And this must be Obsidian Spell’s study.         “Find anything?” he asked Midnight. His partner merely shook her head. “Don’t give up. This place was locked for a reason. I’d bet my life on it.”         Midnight heaved a sigh as she tossed a hoofful of papers aside. “I’m not finding anything here. Just a bunch of journals and reports all by the same pony.”         “Let me guess… Obsidian Spell?” Fleethoof asked in passing while rummaging through the second cabinet. It had been filled to the brim with an assortment of peculiar crystals he had never seen before. They reminded him of the power crystals Quarter Master had discovered and used as power sources.         “No,” Midnight said, looking over the signature on the papers again. “They’re all from some pony named Silence.”         Fleethoof felt his heart miss a beat. It resumed, slow and heavy, pumping cold dread through his veins. Did she say…? He turned around to look at Midnight, still going through the books on the desk.         “What?”         “See for yourself,” she said, nonchalantly passing a journal back to him.         Fleethoof all but tore the cover off the book. Sure enough, she was telling the truth. The signature inside wasn’t that of an Obsidian Spell, but Silence. But the insignia on the cover of all the journals was Obsidian Spell’s eight-pointed star from the photograph. It can’t be… he thought over and over again. These journals are dated hundreds of years ago. It can’t be the same pony.         “I’m not getting any of this, Fleet. Are you— Fleet?” Midnight had turned to stare at the petrified pegasus, looking at him with growing concern. “Fleethoof? What’s wrong?”         “It’s nothing,” he lied, skimming through the book as fast as he could. “Is this the most recently dated journal?”         She laughed and looked at the pony as if she was questioning his sensibility. “It was the one on the top of the pile, so I guess so. Fleet, what’s got you so riled—”         “It’s nothing.” This time, his voice had a hard edge to it. Midnight flinched a little and watched the pony read feverishly through the book.         The further he read, the more Fleethoof delved into Obsidian Spell’s lunacy. What had begun as an intricate study into the healing properties of aether had degenerated into a madpony’s hunt to stop time. The final few entries were what really made Fleethoof’s heart stop though. Entry #1493,         Beginning an account on the properties of aether when transmuted into physical life energy. Potential to unlock immortality with limitless aether supplies.         Hypothesis: Aether can be fused with living organisms to create infinitely regenerating cells and energy. Ergo, aether can be used to instill immortality and endless life into living organisms.         Tests have been prepared in the caverns at the aether pool beneath the mansion. Must remember to have prolific quantities of crystals to store excess energy during rituals. Procurement of test subjects is required before final application to patient. Entreat Isingoma with procurement of subjects from Sunny Town while I continue tests on mansion staff. Ensure entry to caverns is left undisclosed and undiscovered behind main stairwell.         Fleethoof swallowed back the lump in his throat and skipped a few entries ahead. Entry #1501,         Experiment #4 results: catastrophic failure.         Subject exhibiting similar symptoms to previous experiments. Resulting infusion with aether causes unstable mutations of the body and diminishes mental capacity to basic survival functions.         So far, the butler and Chameleon have been the only survivors of the infusion. The other two subjects were terminated during infusion. The butler’s mutations have been documented in his experiment report and I have had to lock him away. Chameleon became increasingly paranoid, followed by hallucinations and respiratory distress. We locked him in the mirror room to isolate any further incidents. The following day resulted in abnormal ability to suspend himself from the ceiling and physical mutation of limbs and appendages. The next day, he vanished. I don’t know where he is now. Mirror room to remain sealed until his whereabouts are uncovered.         Isingoma’s useful knowledge in foreign potions and poisons may prove useful both as catalysts during aether infusion and in treating the subjects and patient. Hopefully it can buy us some more time.         So that’s what happened to the pony in the basement, Fleethoof realized with disgust. Obsidian Spell—Silence—was experimenting on living ponies, trying to create immortality. But why? What was he hoping to accomplish?         Fleethoof turned the page again, and felt his heart drop as he read the single line in the entry. Entry #1502,         Melody died today.         The page was stained in odd splotches. Tear stains, he deduced. He was looking for a way to cure his dying friend…         Entry #1503,         The experiments will continue as planned. Isingoma has begged me to abandon my studies and my home, but I’m too invested now to back out. I have dealt with him. See the following entry and corresponding report.         “Oh no…” Fleethoof murmured, realizing he was speaking out loud.         Midnight looked up quickly. “What is it?”         “The pony that lived here… He was experimenting with raw magic, trying to create immortal life,” he said, reading the grim entry that followed on Isingoma’s fate. “His experiments were failures though. They turned the ponies into the monsters in this place.”         Midnight felt her stomach churn as she processed this discovery. “Is that what created those things out in the town too…?”         “I don’t know… Let me see if it says…” Entry #1505,         The ponies of Sunny Town have begged me to find a cure to the blight of Cutie Pox encroaching on nearby towns. They are still unaware of the experiments I've been running behind their backs. Perhaps my experiments need to be performed on foals for the aether to properly take effect. Perhaps whatever magic instills a pony with its cutie mark is what has been my undoing. I shall begin my experiments on the foals tomorrow.         Fleethoof felt sick to his stomach as he could only imagine what was to follow. He turned a few pages to the last entry, and felt like he was going to throw up.         Entry #1512,         I can hear the screams coming from Sunny Town. The aether took to the foals as I had hypothesized, and they survived the infusion—but they partially mutated as well. Every so often, I see them shift into creatures of decayed flesh and bone, reverting back to base primal instincts. These mutations only seem to occur at night. They attack indiscriminately at anything that differs from them: namely ponies with cutie marks. They must be eviscerating the town as I write this.         I do not know what further mutations will occur, but I am not staying. I have failed. Celestia has damned me to this hell, and I will have my righteous vengeance someday. But this town… my town… I have condemned them all to Tartarus. The last thing I can do is lock their forms away in this time, and pray the Great Alicorn has mercy on their souls. This is my last shred of decency and kindness in this life. They can live out their lives away from the real world in a time lock. One last spell, and one last test of myself…         Melody, forgive me…         — Silence         Fleethoof bit his lip and shut the journal slowly. Everything had begun to fall into place now. Obsidian Spell’s experiments with aether and magic had created the monsters of Sunny Town, and his magic had been what had locked this town in an endless time loop to try to keep them hidden away.         It must have been too strong, and affected the ponies as well as the town, Fleethoof thought. It must’ve given those creatures the ability to pass through the time lock spell. That’s how they could get out into the forest. That’s why ponies can stumble in, but not out. It’s like a flytrap.         “He created those zombie ponies, Mid,” Fleethoof said after a moment. Midnight’s eyes dropped to the floor. “The magic that mutated and destroyed them was infused with their bodies. When they bit Blackjack, some of it must’ve carried over into him and changed him too.”         Midnight Dasher could feel the overwhelming fury mounting inside of her again even as her head spun from this assault of information. Somehow, it had calmed her to think of those ponies as mindless creatures spawned by some dark force of nature. Now that she knew a pony had manufactured them, it infuriated her.         “Why are they always talking about friends and stuff then?” she asked, her voice hoarse with anger.         “They’re foals, Midnight. They were all changed when they were foals and were stuck that way. It’s why they act impulsively and on raw emotion. They’ve been cut down to their baser instincts and grown without any sort of guidance. The immortality magic must’ve worked on their aging, but not on their growth, so they grew up to be like regular ponies and just froze for hundreds of years.”         “So if we’re stuck in some sort of alternate time dimension or whatever, how are we supposed to get out?”         Midnight’s question had been one Fleethoof had spent most of his time pondering. “I think I might have an answer to that. Obsidian’s journal says he put the town in a time lock by using a spell at an aether pool in the caverns beneath the mansion. If he isn’t physically here to keep casting it, he must’ve left some sort of totem or ward to keep it going. So if we get rid of it—”         “We break the spell and return home,” Midnight said, realization dawning on her. “That’s brilliant. But if we do that, won’t those things come back with us?”         “It hasn’t stopped them before,” Fleethoof noted darkly. “And Obsidian’s journal said something about ‘containing their forms to this time’, so maybe they won’t. It’s worth a shot though.”         “I agree.” Midnight nodded her head, making for the door. “So how do we get to these caverns?”         Fleethoof tucked the journal into his jacket pocket safely. “We have to go back to—”         The door flew inward suddenly. In a flurry of motion, both Fleethoof and Midnight had their guns up. Staring down the sights, Midnight was shocked to see not a zombie, but a pony she knew.         “Starlight! You’re alive!”         Starlight lowered his gun, and an expression of joy graced his features. “Midnight! Captain Fleethoof! Sweet Luna, you have no idea how good it is to see you two.”         “Likewise,” Fleethoof replied, stowing his gun again. “How did you find us?”         “I heard voices nearby and thought it might have been somepony still alive. Daybreak and I found the mansion when we were running through the woods, and found a way in around back here. I lost him a while back, and I’ve been looking for anypony ever since. You haven’t seen the others, have you?”         Fleethoof and Midnight exchanged a look. Starlight felt his heart sink into his stomach.         “I see…”         “Day and Black are gone, Star…” Midnight said mournfully, her ears folded back against her skull. “Have you seen Echo or Eclipse?”         Starlight’s darkening eyes told a similar story. “Eclipse didn’t make it either. I don’t know where Echo is. We lost her in the forest somewhere.”         “Dammit…” Fleethoof cursed and pounded a hoof against the wall. “We have to assume the worst… It’d be impossible to search for her now in the fog and rain.”         “I know… Right now, we need to work on finding a way out of here.”         Midnight’s expression brightened instantly. “We may have found a way out. There are caverns under the mansion, where a time spell keeping us trapped here is being cast. We just have to stop it and we’re free.”         Starlight looked between the two ponies, staring at them like they had just spoke of assassinating Celestia. “Whoa, whoa... Back it up. What the hell? Spell? What—?”         “It's a really, really long story, and I'll explain everything on the way,” Midnight interrupted. “But we can get out, and I think we shouldn't wait around for those things to catch up to us before we do.”         “No. Nuh-uh. No way. Somepony explain to me what's going on now. Time spell? What the hell is going on?!”         Midnight sucked in a deep breath, and spoke in a flurry, “Okay, so basically the evil zombie ponies are actually ponies cursed by the magic of some insane pony looking for immortality, and he cast a time spell on the town to keep it locked away and hidden so they'd never be found, except now we've been pulled into it and we're trapped, so we gotta find a way out and Fleet thinks the way out is in the caverns.”         Both Fleethoof and Starlight stared blankly at Midnight Dasher. Even though he knew the truth from discovering it himself, Fleethoof had to admit, hearing it spoken out loud did sound pretty farfetched. Then again, this entire night had been one messed up nightmare. Put into context, perhaps it didn't seem as crazy as it did aloud.         “What... the... fuck...?” muttered Starlight.         “I'll try to clarify on the way,” Fleethoof said in suggestion. “But Midnight's right. We need to get out of here as soon as possible before anypony else gets hurt.”         “All right, fine. But I want the full story—no skipping anything.” That was when something sparked in Starlight’s eyes. “Did you say caverns beneath the mansion?” At Midnight’s nod, he pulled the hexagonal object from his armor. “I found this. It’s supposed to open the gate to the caverns.”         For the first time since he’d left Canterlot, Fleethoof felt like things were actually going their way. “Perfect! Let’s get out of this Celestia damned place and warn the rest of the Royal Guard before anypony else gets lured out here. Then maybe we can get back to finding those lost foals.”         “Um, do you know where the caverns are?”         Fleethoof half smiled. “Just follow me and we’ll be home by dawn.”