//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1: Why Have You Brought Me Here? 
// Story: The Secrets of Bitmore Theater 
// by Kegisak 
//------------------------------//


Why Have You Brought Me Here?


        The silence in the carriage was broken by a loud huff and the muffled squeak of a filly rolling over.
        Rarity peered up from her sketching and sighed, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Sweetie Belle,” she said, closing her sketchpad, “that's enough. You're far too old for sulking.”
        “I am not,” Sweetie retorted. She continued to stare defiantly away from her sister and out the window. “Teenagers are all about sulking.”
        Rarity shifted her jaw and gave a small nod. “Granted,” she said. “But I would consider that much more relevant if you actually were a teenager.”        
        Sweetie Belle sat up. “I am a teenager!” she said. She paused, then turned away again. “I have my cutie mark now. That makes me a teenager.”
        “A creative definition,” Rarity said. “But if one is judging by actual age you are merely almost a teenager. So you still have another year before it is appropriate for you to begin sulking again.”
        Sweetie set her shoulders and opened her mouth… then slumped against the seat, apparently unable to find a good comeback. Instead she rolled over and stared out the window of the carriage again.
        The dull, stone buildings of downtown Manehattan trundled by. The taxi had been slowed to a crawl by the traffic and the not inconsiderable weight of Rarity's luggage. It gave Sweetie plenty of time to take in every last detail. Not that there was much to take in from the back of a carriage. Nothing but buildings too tall to see the top of, all cut out of the same boring, off-white stone. At the very least it was enough to mope over. Eventually they turned down a new, wider street and began to pick up speed as Rarity spoke again.
        “Anyways, I don't see why you're upset in the first place,” she said. “We'll be spending three days in a theater! One of Manehattan's most historic theaters at that. I would have thought you'd be more excited than me.”
        “I would be if we were actually there for theater,” Sweetie said with a snort. “Instead of for a du— for a fashion show. Whose idea was it to host a fashion show in Bitmore theater?”
        Rarity shrugged. “The new owners', I suppose. It's a good venue for a fashion show, if nothing else. Lots of room for the catwalk, lots of room in the back to get ready… whatever the reason, they're taking advantage of it. There will be nearly a dozen up-and-coming designers there.”
        “Bet there won't be dozens of bored little sisters though,” Sweetie grumbled. Rarity sighed and leaned in, lifting Sweetie's chin up.
        “Come now, Sweetie,” she said. “It won't be so bad. There will be plenty for you to do even if there isn't anything showing there. There might be some actors taking an early view, or some rooms backstage you can see being set up. And if not, I can always use a pretty little model for some emergency touch-ups.”
        Sweetie sighed. “I guess so,” she said. “I was just looking forward to spending the long weekend with Applebloom and Scootaloo. We were going to help Scootaloo with a new stunt. Applebloom thinks she can find a recipe to grow a ramp right out of the ground.”
        “Oh,” Rarity said slowly, sitting back. She grimaced. “Does Applejack know about — well, never mind. There will be plenty of time to spend with your friends. This is an opportunity for new experiences! I'm sure everything will look better once we're there.”
        “Maybe,” Sweetie said, looking out the window again. In spite of her best efforts to keep her funk, Rarity had managed to cheer her up a bit. Not that she had ever been able to keep a funk for that long anyways, even with her sister. It wasn't Rarity's fault it was their parents' honeymoon this weekend, and they'd taken another vacation. It also wasn't her fault that she'd been invited to this fashion show, and needed to take Sweetie with her. Well… not really, anyways. Maybe it was a little bit her fault.
        The carriage lurched to a stop, however, before Sweetie was able to follow through on that thought. Sweetie blinked and peered out the carriage window.
        “Oh,” Rarity said, peering out after her. “It looks like we're here!” She reached past Sweetie and slipped out the door, with Sweetie following after.
        Bitmore theater was just like Sweetie Belle had seen in pictures… except older. The already white brick had been bleached by years of sunlight, taking on a sickly yellow tinge. The sign on front had lost a good portion of its lights to weather and overzealous souvenir-seekers, and even the tall sign that stretched up the side of the building had been stripped down to the steel frame. A few scraps of plastic and canvas hanging limply off of it were all that remained. The old theater had been spared the indignity of having garbage pile along the sides, if only by virtue of the relatively good neighborhood, but it was all it would have taken to complete the image. It was a bit sad, really.
        Still, as Sweetie and Rarity approached the building, Sweetie saw that it wasn't all bad. Along the sides scaffolding had been erected, and a few ponies trotted along it with buckets of white paint, obviously meant to restore the theater to its former luster. If they were working on the sides, tucked away in tight alleys nopony visiting the theater was likely to see, it meant they must be dedicated. Whoever had bought the theater to restore it, it was clear they cared.
        Whatever vestiges of Sweetie Belle's funk had remained, they were long gone now. A wide, beaming smile spread across her face as she looked up at that piece of history. If anything, she was more excited by the state of decay. It painted the theater with a romantic sort of luster. It made it look like the kind of place where somepony might fall in love, or achieve their dreams. It looked as though it had been pulled right out of the plays it had hosted years ago.
        “Well it looks like somepony is feeling better,” Rarity said from behind her. Rarity was currently directing the carriage driver, as well as two other stallions who had come out when they arrived, to take in her luggage.
        “Well… maybe a little,” Sweetie admitted. She shrugged and shuffled her hooves in an attempt to appear ambivalent, but her smile hardly faded, much less disappeared. “I can't help it! It's so cool!”
        Rarity smiled, but the smile faded a bit as she turned to the theater. “It certainly has… character,” she said.
        “Don't worry,” A mare's voice came from the direction of the theater. “It will have just as much character when we're finished the restoration. It will just be prettier.”
        Both Sweetie Belle and Rarity turned to the source of the voice. It was a middle-aged earth pony mare with an eggshell coat. Though she was of average height, average frame, and perhaps even average of face, there was a sort of gentle, pervasive prettiness about her. Her steel-blue mane was tied up in a curled bun. Not the bun of somepony who wanted to keep their mane out of their face, as Sweetie Belle had seen Rarity wear many times before. Rather, it was the sort of bun somepony wore if they wanted to keep their mane from getting caught in something. Not the bun of somepony who was working, but of somepony who had been visiting a workplace.
        At her side was a tall unicorn. Standing in contrast to the mare, his face was anything but average, with hard, sharp cheekbones that looked like facets of cut stone under his slate-coloured coat. He wore a fine silken shirt, his own sign that he was just visiting. If one could look past the hardness of his face, he seemed almost friendly, but he stayed silent while the mare spoke.
        “The restorations efforts are going very well, actually, but we're keeping most of it out of view until the opening night. We want it to be a surprise for everypony when we re-open. You must be Miss Rarity. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”
        “Yes, that's right,” Rarity said. She stepped forward and held out her hoof. “Are you Miss Starling?”
        “The very same,” Starling said, shaking Rarity's hoof. “And this is my husband, Silver Sunlight.”
        Sunlight held out his hoof as well, and Rarity shook it gratefully. “It's a pleasure to meet you both,” she said. “Thank you so much for inviting me to take part in this! It's an enormous honour.”
        “Oh, not at all,” Starling said with a chuckle. “If anything we're the ones who should be honoured. After designing for the likes of Hoity Toity, Sapphire Shores and not one, but two Princesses, I'm sure this must seem terribly small-time. But we're always more than happy to support businesses from back home in Ponyville.”
        “It's hardly smalltime to be there for the grand reopening of a historic theater,” Rarity said. “And besides, it's always an honour to be invited to an event. I would be remiss to think that my little shop was ever too big to accept an invitation.”
        Starling smiled and patted Rarity's hoof. “That's just what I like to hear from my entrepreneurs,” she said. “And speaking of hearing,” she added, turning to Sweetie Belle, “I'm sorry dear, I hope we haven't been ignoring you all this time. You must be the guest Miss Rarity mentioned! Are you her assistant? I don't believe I caught your name?”
        “Oh, I'm Sweetie Belle,” Sweetie answered. She felt vaguely spoken-down to, but she tried to give a polite smile anyways. “I'm not Rarity's assistant, just her sister.”
        Rarity gingerly placed a hoof on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “Our parents were out of town this weekend,” she explained, “and everypony else who could look after her was busy, so I had to bring her along. I hope it's not too much of an imposition?”
        “Oh, not at all,” Starling said. She waved a hoof. “In fact it may actually be for the best! We brought our own daughter along, but she's not terribly interested in theater, I'm afraid. At least now she'll have somepony her own age to play with!” She smiled wider and leaned down to Sweetie Belle's level. “Personally,” she said in a conspiratory stage whisper, “I don't think she knows what she's missing. You know which theater this is, don't you? It's the one in Moppets Take Manehattan!”
        Sweetie Belle beamed wider. “Yeah!” She said, her enthusiasm barely slowed by the embarrassing crack in her voice, “And it was where Mane first premiered! I love that show!”
        Starling paused. She stood stock still for a moment, except for a slow blink. “Ah,” she said, looking between Sweetie Belle and Rarity. “Really, now?”
        “We went to see it with our Mother,” Rarity answered, her smile taking on an almost audible tightness. “For Mother's Day. She said it sounded ‘nostalgic’. A fact I have been trying to forget ever since.”
        Starling grimaced a bit, but laughed in spite of it. “Oh dear,” she said. “I can see how knowing that might be… upsetting. I'll do my best not to remind you. Still!” She turned back to Sweetie as she straightened up. “I'm glad to hear our young guest is so knowledgeable of theater history. I take it you're more interested than I first thought?”
        “Uh-huh!” Sweetie replied with a nod. “I love theater, especially musicals! I'm actually…” she smiled a bit bashfully. “I really like singing along with my records, and… well…”
        “Ahah, an aspiring actress?” Starling asked. Sweetie Belle flushed and nodded mutely, bringing another chuckle out of Starling. “Well then, I have an idea,” she continued, turning slightly. “Why don't we all head inside? I'm sure Miss Rarity would like to get everything set up before the show, and I have to meet with a stallion from the Manehattan Museum of Arts, but I’m sure my daughter would be happy to give you a tour of the theater!”
        Sweetie's eyes bulged, and her heart leapt. “Really?” she asked, not even noticing her cracking voice this time. Any foul mood from before had been completely forgotten now. “I thought you said she didn’t like the theater?”
        “Absolutely,” Starling said with a wink. “She may not care for theater, but she’s still explored every inch of it. She probably knows it better than anypony by now. I'm sure you'll be seeing the backstage some day anyways, so why not give you a head start now, hmm? As long as your big sister is alright with it, of course?”
        Sweetie's head snapped to Rarity, giving her a set of wide, watering puppy-dog eyes before the mare had the chance to respond.
        “Oh, goodness, there's no need for that,” Rarity said, averting her eyes. “Honestly Sweetie if we could bottle that look… I'm more than happy to let your daughter show her around, Miss Starling. I'm afraid I won't be very good company for her for some time anyways. Oh, I have just so much to do. Clothing to set up, final alterations to make… I need to fit on the models to make sure everything is right…” Rarity was already beginning to look a bit frazzled as they entered the lobby.
        To the right stood the ticketing booths, an entire wall of windows separated by thick wooden columns. A studious stallion was painting the columns a brilliant, pristine white that stood out against the crimson velvet of the carpeting. The reason for repainting was immediately obvious; though the carvings in the wood had not been harmed, thick smears of black soot and char had been burned into them. Sweetie payed no heed to the blackened pillars, however. She payed no heed to anything, except for the small gray filly who was sitting in the lobby. Sweetie Belle’s mouth fell open, and her heart dropped along with it. The filly gawked back at Sweetie, barely reacting as Starling spoke up. 
        “Oh, Silver Spoon!” Starling said. She trotted up to Silver Spoon and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Sweetheart.” She turned back to Sweetie Belle and said, “Sweetie Belle, Miss Rarity, this is my youngest daughter, Silver Spoon. Silver, this is Sweetie Belle. She's one of our designers’ younger sister, joining us for this weekend.”
        “Uh,” Silver said. Her voice was dull, and she was still staring straight at Sweetie Belle with an expression somewhere between shock and disgust. “Yeah. We've met.”
        “Hmm? Have you?” Starling asked. She looked back and forth between Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon for a moment. “Oh — oh! Oh, of course!” Starling patted her forehead. “Honestly, some day I'll forget my own cutie mark — you two go to school together, don't you?”
        “Uh-huh,” Sweetie said, nodding slowly. What was Silver Spoon, of all ponies, doing here? Oh sure, it could have been worse — without Diamond Tiara to point out a victim Silver Spoon was really a nuisance at worst, but still! Sweetie had just been starting to get excited for her weekend, and now she was going to have to deal with Silver Spoon hovering around the whole time. Since they were the same age all the grownups were probably going to expect them to spend all their time together, too. Sweetie groaned internally at the mere thought of it. She was probably gonna have to spend the whole time making sure Silver didn't get her into trouble. She was the owner's daughter after all, so of course she'd never be at fault.
        How could Silver Spoon be Miss Starling's daughter, anyways? Miss Starling seemed so nice! She was smart, and pretty, and she understood what Sweetie would be interested in, and Silver Spoon was… well, she was Silver Spoon. She'd never been anything but dismissive to Sweetie Belle before she'd become friends with Apple Bloom, and mean to her after, even after they all got their cutie marks.
        “Well, that's wonderful!” Starling declared. “I'm glad you two already know each other. And I’m glad you’re here, Silver dear, because I have a favour to ask of you. Your father and I need to speak with the gentlestallion from the Historical Theater and Arts Society from the Manehattan Museum of the Arts very shortly. Now I’m sure Miss Rarity will want to be getting to work, which would unfortunately leave Sweetie Belle all alone. I know you were disappointed that your friend Diamond Tiara couldn’t make it here this weekend, so why don’t you give Sweetie Belle a tour of the theater?”
        “Uh!” Silver said. Her eyes darted back and forth as though looking for an escape route. She was obviously no more interested in spending her weekend shackled to Sweetie Belle than Sweetie was to her, but from the resigned sag of her shoulders when she caught Starling's look, there was obviously no way out. “I… guess I could…” she mumbled.
        “Oh, that's wonderful,” Starling said with another sigh. “I trust you two fillies can keep each other out of trouble.” The second toll of the death knell. Starling might as well say the name of the Cursed Play, the way this was going.
        Starling seemed content to leave it at that, though. She turned to Rarity, and raised her voice a bit. “Miss Rarity?”
        “… certain I packed that thread, but if not I'm sure there's a textiles nearby that could—” Rarity stopped, and looked up. In mere moments her mane had become a tangled mess, and she was chewing nervously on her hoof. “Hm?” she asked. “Oh I'm so sorry Miss Starling, I just got caught up in planning, and…” She gave a weak, apologetic sort of shrug.
        Starling chuckled. “I know, I know,” she said. “The Artistic Process. I've had the… pleasure of seeing my daughter preparing for a show; I know how creative ponies can get. I have some things I need to attend to, and Silver is happy to give Sweetie Belle the grand tour. I just wanted to let you know whenever you were ready to start working, that door will take you directly to the backstage so you can get settled.” She gestured to a small door along the left wall. “All of your things should have been brought in by now.”
        “Oh,” Rarity said. Her shoulders eased out of a bunch and she breathed a sigh of relaxation. “That sounds wonderful, Miss Starling, thank you so much. And,” she gave a quick, sidelong glance to Silver Spoon, who very noticeably did not meet her gaze. “Thank you for asking your daughter to show Sweetie Belle around for a while. Please, feel free to send her back to me whenever. And Sweetie—” she turned to her sister, “—you'll be good with Silver Spoon, I trust?” There was a knowing edge to the question. Sweetie had no doubt it was as much an order as a query.
        Sweetie sighed quietly. “Yes, Rarity,” she said eventually, giving a slow nod. “I'll be good.”
        “Oh, Pish,” Starling said with a flippant wave of her hoof. “They’ll only be looking around, there’s only so much trouble two fillies can get up to — provided Silver remembers where they’re allowed to go,” she added, shooting Silver a glance. “But I’ve kept the poor gentlestallion from the museum waiting long enough, I’m afraid.” She wrapped Silver in a hug and planted a kiss on her forehead.
        “Moooom,” Silver groaned in a limp, half-hearted whine as she leaned away from her mother's affections.
        “I know, I know, don't embarrass you in front of your friends,” Starling said with a chuckle. “Thank you both for keeping each other company. I'll see you soon, Sweetheart!”
        This seemed to satisfy Rarity, who nodded. “Well, alright,” she said, turning to the door. “Thank you again, Miss Starling. Goodbye, Sweetie. I’ll see you later on this evening.”
        “Bye, Rarity,” Sweetie replied. They waved to each other for a moment before Rarity and Starling disappeared through their respective doors to leave Sweetie Belle alone with Silver Spoon.
The two of fillies sat in silence for a moment, judging how fast Starling and Rarity would be out of audible distance. In the end, it was Sweetie who spoke first. Or at least, who grunted first.
        “Urgh,” she said, sagging down.
        “At least we can agree on one thing,” Silver replied with a snort.
        “Is she really gonna make us stay together all weekend?” Sweetie asked, grimacing at the thought.
        Silver sighed and rolled her eyes. “Probably,” she said. “At the very least I'm gonna have to pretend to like you the whole time. Mom thinks I need to be friends with everypony, for some reason.” She stuck out her tongue and pulled a face. “Gag.”
        “Yeah, well,” Sweetie said. She drew back from Silver Spoon let the words hang, wracking her mind for a good comeback. Sadly nothing came to her. In fact, more than anything else all she could think of was that she really didn't want to spend her whole weekend subtly trading snipes with Silver Spoon. “Well…” she said eventually, shuffling her hooves as she mulled over her idea. “Why don't we at least put on a good show?”
        Silver cocked an eyebrow at that. “… What do you mean?” She asked.
        “I mean…” Sweetie said, waving her hooves vaguely. “I don't wanna spend my whole weekend fighting with you. And I definitely don't wanna get in trouble for getting caught doing it. Can't we just, like, call a truce or something? Just for the weekend. Then you can go back to being a jerk, and I can go back to... whatever it is I do that makes you and Diamond Tiara hate me so much.”
        Silver Spoon shot her a confused and slightly offended glare. “I don't… whatever,” she said. “Yeah, that sounds good, I guess. I wouldn't mind getting out of here without a lecture.” She kicked some dust up off the floor, and shifted her jaw. “So what do you want to do, anyways? Diamond Tiara isn't here, my sister isn't here, there aren't even any actors practicing or anything…”        
        “Well, your mom wanted you to give me a tour,” Sweetie Belle pointed out. “Remember?”
        Silver rolled her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, “but there’s probably nothing you want to see that isn’t dumb and boring.”
        “Well, there’s the auditorium,” Sweetie said defensively. “And I think the dressing rooms would be neat…”
        Silver Spoon gave a flippant wave of her hoof. “See?” she said. “Dumb and boring.” She peered over at Sweetie and, seeing her scowl, drew back and put her hooves up. “What?” she asked. “It's just a room! There are dressers, there are makeup stands, but it's just stuff. Nopony's used them yet, so it's not like there's even anything interesting to hear about. And the auditorium is basically empty.”
        Sweetie huffed. “Well I think they'd be interesting,” she said with just a hint of belligerence. She might not want to fight with Silver, but that didn't mean she was just going to roll over for her. She set her shoulders and prepared herself for a game of fight-chicken.
        To her surprise though, Silver Spoon simply shrugged. “Fine,” she said. “If that's what you want, I guess. I'm telling you though, it'll be boring.” She got to her hooves and turned away, gesturing for Sweetie to follow. “The auditorium is this way.”
        “Oh, uh,” Sweetie said, blinking. “Y-yeah, okay.” She cantered to Silver Spoon's side and fell in step with her. “I think they seem neat, though. Haven't you ever wondered what it'd be like to be an actress? Preparing for shows and stuff?”
        “Not really,” Silver Spoon said. She shook her head to center her braid, and shrugged. “My sister is a musician. I see her preparing for shows. It doesn't look very interesting. You go up, perform whatever, then leave as fast as you can so the next pony can do their thing. I'm not into it.”
        That sounded an awful lot like personal experience to Sweetie, for somepony who 'wasn't into it'. “Yeah,” she said, deciding to probe a bit. “Your mom said you weren't very into theater.” She paused, and added, “Your parents own a theater now! How can you not like it?”
        “I dunno,” Silver Spoon said as she drew away and hunched up her shoulders defensively. “All the ponies talk weird, and it's hard to see anything that's going on. I like some musicals, but usually the music is weird too.”
        “Maybe you just haven't seen the right plays?” Sweetie suggested.
        “I've seen dozens,” Silver Spoon replied. She rolled her head in disgust at the thought of it. “This isn't the first Mom and Daddy have been interested in theater, you know. My second cousin Backstage is a playwright; I've been going to plays and musicals since I was like… four. Probably longer. I don't know what's supposed to be the right ones.” She shook her head. “Anyways,” she said, “we're here. Welcome to the auditorium.” She stopped in front of a large pair of gilded double-doors, pushed the door open and stood aside. Sweetie Belle stepped inside, and gasped in awe — and in shock.
        The auditorium had been gutted. Almost all of the theater seats had been ripped up, leaving behind only the snarled, charred steel mountings, sticking up in jagged spikes. Only the first few rows had new seats, thick plush in the same shade of crimson as the lobby carpet.
        Above them, the balcony was a half-painted, half burned canopy. A team of pegasi hovered along the bottom with paint rollers in tow. As they trotted out further into the auditorium Sweetie looked back at the balcony, and saw that the seats there had been torn up as well. All of the walls were barren, save for the large, decorative pillars that stretched up in the corners of the room. As Sweetie looked closer, however, she noticed a few stray wires hanging between the pillars, wires she imagined had once held up curtains or banners.
        “Wow...” Sweetie said. “What happened in here?”
        “There was a fire,” Silver Spoon told her. “A long time ago… twenty years, I think? Mom says it didn’t do too much real damage, and almost nopony was hurt, but the whole place was wrecked. After that I guess ponies just… left it.” She looked around for a moment, and shrugged. “Mom says we’re the first ponies to own it since. She’s been cleaning it up for months now.”
        Sweetie looked back as Silver Spoon lead her up onto the stage and down a side alley. The auditorium looked almost skeletal from a distance. What could have caused a fire that extensive? A prop malfunction? An accident?
        “The dressing rooms are close to the stage,” Silver said, cutting through her thoughts. “You’ve probably been in one before. They’re pretty much all the same…”
        “I haven’t, actually,” Sweetie said. 
Silver paused, and turned back to stare at her. “... Really?” she asked. “You’ve been in stuff before, haven’t you?”
Sweetie leaned back. “Well… yeah,” she said. “But like, small stuff. Nothing that needed dressing rooms. We just got dressed backstage.”
        Silver tilted her head slightly. “Huh,” she said slowly. She smirked a bit, and gestured to a sturdy-looking door. “Well… this is the star’s dressing room.” She pushed the door open, and stood aside.
Sweetie Belle frowned for a moment and peered at Silver. What was that smile supposed to mean? In her excitement to explore, however, it was easy to put Silver out of her mind and gleefully trot through the door. The first thing she noticed was that it was dark. Very dark. Too dark to see, in fact. She stopped and fumbled along the inside wall for a moment. She probed for a light switch, and after a few moments of blind groping she felt something brush against her hoof.
        The room did not light up when Sweetie flipped the switch as she had expected, but it didn't stay completely dark either. On the far inside wall an arch of light-bulbs flickered to life. The sudden light stung Sweetie Belle’s eyes for a moment. Her eyes adjusted soon enough, though, and she saw that the source of the light was a large vanity desk, the bulbs arching across the large mirror. Happily, the mirror provided a little extra illumination, throwing at least a weak light across the far wall.
        Sweetie took a few ginger steps inside and looked around on the wall. There didn't seem to be any other switches. “I… guess the electricity isn't really working yet?” she asked.
        “Huh?” Silver Spoon asked, peering inside. “Oh… eh, I guess not.” She shrugged. “I think the electricians were supposed to be coming in to do their last pass tonight or tomorrow.” She looked up and around on the ceiling. “Or maybe nopony remembered to put in a light-bulb yet.”
        “Yeah,” Sweetie said slowly, looking around. The darkened room dampened her glee and replaced it with a strange sense of foreboding. The shadows in the corners made it difficult to tell just how large the room was. It gave the place a subtle sense of claustrophobia and unease. What could be lurking in those who-knew-how-deep shadows? Nothing of course, she told herself. She knew it was a silly thing to be afraid of. Still, just because you knew something didn't mean you felt it. She breathed deep and pushed the thoughts out of her mind, walking further into the room.
        Silver had been right about one thing at least, the room was barren. Sweetie Belle chanced a glance over her shoulder at the other filly, who was lounging against the doorframe. Sweetie wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of being right about the room being boring, so she headed toward the desk. “This is interesting,” she said. “I don't think I've ever actually seen one of these up close before.” She clambered into the chair in front of the desk. It was surprisingly comfortable, with a plush cushion affixed to the seat and velvet over the arms. She settled into the chair, looking all around.
        “Is it?” Silver Spoon asked from the doorway. “It's just a desk. Doesn't your sister have one of them? She wears makeup, doesn't she?”
        “Well, sure,” Sweetie said. She spotted a mask on the desk. It had been difficult to see in the gloom and the glare of the lights, but now that her eyes had adjusted she realized it had been sitting just off-center on the desk, as though somepony had been wearing it and set it down. “But she just uses compacts or her bathroom mirror. Her room is too full for a big desk like this just for makeup.”
        The mask was smooth and cool under her hooves, like porcelain. It felt less fragile, though. A kind of plastic, perhaps? It looked like a domino mask, but the left side stretched down far enough to cover half a smaller pony’s cheek. There was even a small groove for the wearer's lips.
        “Huh,” Silver Spoon said simply. “Well… I dunno, it's a desk. Actors and actresses get ready there. This one is new, so like… nothing really interesting has happened there yet.”
        “Somepony's used it, though,” Sweetie said, turning around in the chair. “Or it looks like it, anyways. Unless somepony just left a prop in here by accident?” She held up the mask for Silver Spoon to see.
        Silver Spoon squinted for a moment, and took a step forward to see better in the gloom. She grinned suddenly, and laughed.
        “Huh?” Sweetie asked, puzzled. She looked at the mask. “What is it?” she asked.
        “Somepony is playing a prank,” Silver Spoon explained. “Or at least, trying to. They're leaving that for the models to find, to scare them.”
        “Why would some mask scare a model?” Sweetie asked. “Is it a superstition or something? Are they gonna freak out because somepony is calling them ugly?” A few of the models she had met did seem temperamental enough… but only one out of a few dozen. Surely nopony here was that silly?
        “You mean you don't know?” Silver Spoon asked, taking another step forward.
        “Know what?” Sweetie asked, leaning away.
        “About the pony who died in the fire!” Silver Spoon said. The lights of the desk cast an eerie pallor on her face, gleaming menacingly off of her glasses. She had given her voice an eery, hollow sound, a tone that set Sweetie Belle on edge.
        Sweetie swallowed hard. “D-died?” she asked. “But you said nopony was hurt—”
        “Almost nopony,” Silver Spoon corrected her. “But there was one pony who died in the blaze… and some ponies say that he was the one who set it off.
        “Of course nopony knows exactly what caused it,” Silver Spoon continued, “but a lot of ponies said they saw a mysterious cloaked figure stalking around in the days before the fire. Nopony knows who he was — he had never been seen in the theater before. He wasn't an employee, or an actor. But the ponies who saw him heard him ranting and raving about what the theater had come to, and how he hated it. And when the fire started, one of the actors who made it out said that they saw him — standing in the middle of the stage, ranting and screaming about how things would be better. About how the theater had a future. They tried to get him to run with them, but he refused to leave. The fires got too hot, and they had to leave him behind, still ranting and raving.”
        Sweetie leaned back in her chair, trembling slightly, and swallowed. Silver Spoon had crept closer and closer to her, until she was only a couple of feet away. Her glasses no longer reflected the light of the vanity desk, but in their place the shadows made her eyes into two sunken black pits.
        “But,” Silver Spoon continued, “When the fire was over, they never found his body — not even bones. Some ponies think he burned right to ash, and there was no body left to find. Some ponies think that he escaped, never to be seen again. But some ponies, some ponies say that he never left at all. That he's been here all this time, lurking in the tunnels underneath the theater, in the back stages that nopony goes to anymore, or sneaking around the rafters and catwalks above. They say he didn't die — or maybe he did! But that he's still here, a creeping phantom waiting for the theater to be restored to the glory age of musicals and opera… I wonder what he'd think of hosting a fashion show here, huh?”
        “I—I… I don't… know…” Sweetie stammered. Silver Spoon was inches away from her now, though Sweetie had leaned as far back into the chair as she could manage, pressing herself into the padded back.
        “I don't know either,” Silver Spoon said, a slow smirk creeping across her face. “But I've heard some of the workers say that they've seen nooses hanging from the rafters — empty, like they're waiting for somepony to snatch!” She jumped forward, and Sweetie shrieked. She fell out of the chair to dodge the lunge and toppled to the floor with a thump and a grunt. 
Silver Spoon burst out laughing, barely bothering to try and stifle it with a hoof.
        “Cut it out, Silver!” Sweetie shouted. She tried her best not to let the fear and tension in her voice show. “That isn't funny!”
        “Geez, it's just a story!” Silver Spoon said, still laughing. She managed to restrain herself a little, though not much. “It's just some dumb rumor. They show up in every theater in Equestria… heck, some ponies will even tell you a play is haunted, and they won't let you say MacB—”
        “Don't say it!” Sweetie cut her off.
        Silver Spoon paused, blinking dumbly at Sweetie for a few moments. “Oh my gosh,” she said. She started to laugh again. “You actually believe in that?”
        Sweetie's face grew hot, and she felt her cheeks flushing. “That's not — I mean — I don't — I know it's just a superstition!” She bunched up her shoulders and turned away. “That doesn't mean you should do it! It scares a lot of ponies. And it's tradition. And anyways, what if it is true?”
        Silver Spoon rolled her eyes, and coughed. She struggled a bit more than Sweetie thought was necessary, but she eventually managed to suppress her laughter. “Okay, fine,” she said. “I won't say the name of that play. Dumb anyways. Just a bunch of weird Passland ponies stabbing each other. There are way cooler stories about that.” she shrugged. “But the Phantom is definitely just a dumb rumor, and I can prove it.”
        Sweetie Belle looked back at her slowly, looking her up and down. Surprisingly, Silver Spoon wasn't wearing her usual smug expression. Sweetie knew her too well to think she was being completely genuine, but it didn't seem like she was trying to get another laugh in at Sweetie Belle. “… How?” she asked.
        “The Phantom is supposed to live in the deepest, darkest back stages of the theater, right?” Silver Spoon said. “Well, I've explored every inch of this theater since Mom and Daddy bought it a few months ago, and I haven't seen a single sign of anypony living in here. I'm supposed to be giving you a tour, right?”
        “Rrright,” Sweetie said slowly. She was beginning to see where Silver was going with this, and she didn't necessarily like it. She rubbed her forelegs.
        “So, I'll take you to the back stages! We can see that there's no sign of the Phantom, and you'll know for sure that it's just a rumor, right?” She paused, and added, “Unless you're too scared.”
        Sweetie Belle frowned. “Silver,” she groaned, “You said we wouldn't fight!”
        “I'm not fighting!” Silver said, putting on an innocent face. “I'm just saying, if you don't want to, then we don't have to! I understand if it's too much for you. It's spooky back there. Even I get scared sometimes.”
        It was obvious what she was doing, Sweetie thought. Silver Spoon was obviously trying to goad her into it. She was all but openly daring Sweetie. It was obvious, and dumb, and there was no way that Sweetie should fall for it.
        “Fine,” Sweetie Belle said, folding her forelegs. “I'll do it. I'm not scared. The Phantom isn't real, right?”
        “Right,” Silver Spoon said. She turned away and pushed open the door, smiling over her shoulder. “So let's go prove it! I'll show you the way.”
        Sweetie set the mask down on the desk. She paused, and picked it up again before sliding down out of the chair. “Okay,” she said, trotting up to the door.
        Silver Spoon put a hoof across her chest before she could leave.
        “Huh?” Sweetie Belle asked, staring down at the hoof. It was surprisingly rough. Soft, but still rough, like it was used to being battered or used heavily.
        Silver Spoon poked her head out into the hall, looking around carefully. “Mom doesn't like it when I go into the back rooms,” she said. “If she finds out we're heading there, then she'll send somepony to come get me. One of the workers, or worse, the Butler. So we have to be careful to make sure nopony sees us heading back there.” She peered back at Sweetie. “You can be good at sneaking, right?” she asked.
        “Oh!” Sweetie said. “I — yeah, I can be sneaky.” She hunkered down. That all made sense. Still, it made her worried… “Will we get in trouble for this?”
        Silver Spoon shook her head. “No — or at least you won't. My Mom will probably be 'disappointed' in me, but she won't be too mad as long as we don't get hurt, and we won't. Plus, I'll only get in trouble if we get caught — and we won't.” She peered at Sweetie over her shoulder again. “Right?”
        “R-right,” Sweetie agreed with a nod. Her heart was already thudding in her chest from the nerves.
        The pair ducked out of the dressing room, letting the door swing shut behind them. Silver Spoon strode quickly on stock-straight legs, so quickly she was practically gliding across the carpeted floor. It was only Sweetie who made a sound, the light swif swif swif of her hooves dragging across the carpet mingling subtly with the murmurs from where the designers were only a few rooms away. Her face — her whole front, really — was hot, so hot that the mask clutched against her chest felt like ice. Her heart thudded so loud she could swear that everypony around must have been able to hear it, must know that she was up to something, but they only saw one or two ponies in their journey, and none of those ponies so much as looked at Sweetie Belle. So far as they were concerned, Sweetie and Silver were just a part of the scenery.
        Silver Spoon, for her part, did her best to facilitate that view. Her stride was confident and powerful, moving for all the world like she belonged exactly where she was. Of course, she probably did. If she had explored as much as she and her mother claimed it could only be because, as the owner's daughter, she had had the run of this place. No wonder she knew so much about it, Sweetie thought.
        “Here,” Silver Spoon said as she pulled up to an unmarked door. She looked back and forth, then leaned casually against the wall a few feet away from the door. Sweetie followed her view and noticed a pair of stallions at the end of the hall. Silver waved her hoof in a hurried signal that Sweetie didn’t understand, then paused and tutted to herself.
“Don’t attract their attention,” Silver hissed under her breath. “Act like you’re supposed to be here!” 
Unable to think of anything, Sweetie simply sat in the middle of the hall, holding the mask tight against her chest. She peered at the door. “This is—” she began, but stopped herself and started again in a whisper. “This is it?” she asked. “We aren't very far away from the dressing rooms…”
        “Most of the theater is taken up by these kinds of places,” Silver explained, gesturing to the door. “It's for prop storage and stuff. They all connect to each other, and the biggest entrance is right behind the main backstage. This one just happened to be closest to us.” She peered subtly back down the hall again. The workers were still there. She rolled her eyes, and sighed. “Though we might have to find something else if those guys don't move soon… give it another minute. We're just taking a rest here.”
        Sweetie tilted her head. She was about to point out that she felt fine, when it clicked with her. “You mean, that's what the workers will think?”
        “Probably, anyways,” Silver said. She shifted her position along the wall and hummed, looking at Sweetie and away. Then she blinked, and looked back at Sweetie. “You brought the mask?”
        “Uh, yeah,” Sweetie said, flushing faintly. “I, uh… well, I figured if somepony was trying to scare one of the models, I didn't want them to actually get scared. And I figured it was probably one of the props or something, so… I thought I'd take it and put it back while we were in the prop rooms.
        “Huh,” Silver Spoon said, blinking. A faint smile played at the corners of her lips. She looked quickly away from Sweetie, covering her lips. “Hey!” She said. “The workers are gone.”
        Sweetie Belle looked in the direction where the stallions had been and saw that Silver Spoon was right. She turned back, only to see that Silver Spoon had already slipped through the door and was holding it open, waving hurriedly for Sweetie to follow her.
        “Hurry!” Silver Spoon hissed. “Before somepony else comes along!”
        Sweetie Belle scrambled to her feet. She bolted for the door and ducked under Silver Spoon's outstretched foreleg. She was so frightened of being caught that it was only after she had gotten inside she realized just how cluttered the prop room was. She crashed headlong into a pile of surprisingly sturdy boxes and bounced off, staggering backwards from the impact. Her head was reeling, but she was vaguely aware of Silver’s hooves on her back keeping her from sliding back out the door. Silver’s bracing, however, only managed to redirect Sweetie. Her long tumble finally came to an end as she collided over another, considerably shorter, box. She stumbled for just a moment, then fell to crash flat on her face.
        “Jeeze!” Silver Spoon said, barely stopping to check the door was closed before running to Sweetie's side. “Are you okay? That was a heck of a trip!”
        “Oooooooooow,” Sweetie moaned miserably, clutching at her nose. It felt like it had just been punched. It had only happened to her once, and she had hoped to never feel it again. Her eyes stung with the first droplets of tears, and she felt a lump forming in her throat. “Ow ow owwwwww… my nose…”
        “Hey,” Silver Spoon said, circling around the boxes. “Lemme see.” She bent down in front of Sweetie Belle, gently pulling Sweetie's hooves away from her face.
        “Ouch!” Sweetie groaned, pulling away. Silver Spoon tutted and leaned in closer.
        “I know it hurts, you already said that,” she said. “Let me have a look at it. Are you alright?”
        Sweetie's eyes were too blurry to see properly in the dim light of the backstage, but she felt Silver’s hooves gently cup her face. They tilted her left, then right.
        “Mm…” Silver Spoon said after a moment. “It doesn't look bad. Your nose isn't even bleeding, just a bit swollen.
        “Feels like it's bleeding…” Sweetie said, sniffling. She blinked away the tears and gingerly rubbed a hoof across her nose. Sure enough, her hoof was clean of blood when she brought it back.
        “It's just snot,” Silver Spoon told her. “Which is gross, by the way.” She pulled a face. “I don't know how you fit so much up there…”
        In spite of the pain, Sweetie giggled a bit. She pulled herself to her hooves and slid off of the box. She wiped her nose again. “…Thanks,” she said. “That was really nice of you.”
        Silver blinked. Sweetie had expected her to… well, she wasn't quite sure what she had expected Silver to do, but it certainly wasn't to look shocked. “Uh,” Silver Spoon said, turning away suddenly. “Yeah, well… whatever. If you'd started crying somepony might have heard and then I'd definitely have gotten in trouble. And anyways, I'd just never seen somepony fail that hard before, and wanted to see it better, that’s all.” She huffed. “Are you ready to start looking around?”
        Sweetie Belle frowned. Any appreciation she might have had for Silver had drained away. She had thought, just for a moment, that Silver Spoon had actually been… nice, somehow. Really nice, actually. Sweetie Belle folder her forelegs and sniffled. “Yeah,” she said. “Fine. Let's go prove this dumb Phantom doesn't exist.”
        Silver Spoon chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed and stood up. “Yeah,” she said. “Good idea.”
        Sweetie followed after her, looking around as they walked. A thick miasma of dust and dimness hung over the room that forced her to strain her eyes. A row of frosted glass windows along the back wall let in weak, murky blue light that set the dust in the air glinting gold. It gave the place an ethereal, otherworldly sort of atmosphere that made Sweetie Belle step lightly.
        Dozens of boxes lay scattered around the room, tops open and props hanging out. Some of the props still looked good in spite of their age, but many more showed the full effects of the fire, burned or distorted, blackened husks of whatever indiscernible thing they had once been. In the blue-gold half-light it was eerie to see them hanging there, limp and lifeless. The props that were simple furniture or tools were not too bad, but every so often a costume had been hung in such a way as to suggest a pony lurking in a corner, or a disembodied face. So many were charred or half-melted that if Sweetie had not been assured only one pony died, she would have wondered if these were the ghosts of dead actors still haunting the theater. She shivered, rubbing her forelegs.
        “Y-you keep the burned props?” Sweetie Belle asked, if only to break the silence. “Why?”
        “I'm not sure,” Silver Spoon replied. “I think Mom and Daddy were planning on getting rid of them, but… they didn't. I guess maybe they kept them for that museum pony to look at?”
        “I can't see why he'd want any of this,” Sweetie Belle said, looking sidelong at a mask hanging from a hook. Already a garish fool's smile, the fire had contorted the mask into a smirking grimace. She shuddered and moved away from it. “I guess I can see why a Phantom might like it in here, though… or why somepony might think they've seen one. Did you really go exploring this whole place on your own?”
        “Yeah…” Silver Spoon said. It was barely noticeable, but Sweetie Belle could have sworn she'd heard a hint of nervousness in Silver Spoon's voice as well. “Or, well… most of it, anyways. I, uh… never went that far into the deeper rooms.
        Sweetie Belle blinked and looked slowly at Silver Spoon. “… Deeper rooms?” she asked. That didn't sound good.
        Silver Spoon nodded just as slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “It's where like, all the plumbing and stuff comes up so ponies can work on them if they ever need to be fixed. I… never went into them.” She shuffled her hooves a bit bashfully. “Never figured there'd be anything interesting, and, well…”
        “They were deep, and dark, and creepy?” Sweetie asked.
        Silver Spoon bobbed her head back and forth, obviously reluctant to say it out loud. “…Okay, yeah,” she finally admitted. “It's pretty freaky back there. It's dark, and cold, and there's this weird… clanging.”
        The fillies stopped, and a heavy silence fell over them. Neither said a word; they barely breathed. It was Sweetie who broke it finally. “That…” she said softly, “sounds like exactly the kind of place I'd live, if I were a Phantom.”
        “Yeah…” Silver said. “Me too…”
        Silver Spoon stared at a tall, wide doorway on the far wall. Assuming it to be the door to the deeper rooms, Sweetie followed her gaze and stopped as well. She strained her eyes even more to see beyond the threshold, but try as she might, the room just beyond the door was black as pitch. It was the kind of darkness that suggests untold depths. It looked like a hole in the side of the world. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
        “Well,” Silver said, not sounding nearly as confident as Sweetie imagined she would have liked, “I guess if we're gonna prove this guy doesn't exist, that means a place that'd be his home is exactly where we need to look for him…” She took a slow, shaky step forward, then looked back at Sweetie Belle.
        Sweetie took a step after her, then faltered. In response, Silver took a half step. Sweetie stepped forward again, overtaking Silver Spoon. So it went, with the two fillies creeping and inching their way forward, goading the other with every step until they finally reached the door. It felt like it had taken ages, and that it would take ages more to cross through.
        The dark had not gotten any less deep this close to the door. Sweetie Belle gulped, and out of the corner of her eyes she could see Silver Spoon trembling faintly.
        “Uh, you know,” Silver said, smiling weakly, “If it's too scary for you, I won't think any less of you…”
        Sweetie frowned. “Yeah…” she said slowly. “Same to you…”
        Well, that settled it. She could see the tiny flex and set of Silver Spoon's shoulders, see her trembling slow. “I'm fine,” Silver Spoon said.
        “Me too,” Sweetie replied. They stared eye to eye for a moment, then charged into the darkness.
        Even inside the darkness didn't clear up at first. The blackness clung to the walls and the fillies, sticking like tar, staining like ink. Only the faint glint of light off pipes gave a hint that they were still in the real world at all, and not some nightmarish landscape the likes of which lingers under foal's beds. They kept close to one another, near shoulder to shoulder for the fear that, if they left each others' sight, they would be lost in the darkness forever.
        Eventually though, their eyes began to adjust the darkness. Somewhere, it seemed, there was some small source of light, enough to provide limited visibility. The pipes that wound across the ceiling helped a bit. Many hung low, some so low that Sweetie Belle had to duck under them, and their surfaces glistened with condensation. The off-blue and rust-orange glints that reflected off of them gave a sparse, but serviceable light.
        Sweetie slowed and finally took a look around. It was still difficult to get a feel for the room in the dimness, but she felt that she had an idea. The pipe system was massive and expansive. She could see it snaking across the whole room, into the edgeless shadows where the light faded. They likely came from, and went to, everywhere in the entire building, snarling together in the center like an enormous knot. From the way the pipes curled across the old, wooden rafters along the ceiling, it looked like the mass of brass had been suspended above the floor.
        Aside from the pipes, every last inch of the deep backstage was covered in a thick layer of dust. It was more like a carpet than dust at this point, coming up in clumps and chunks as Sweetie dragged her hooves across it. She dared to look down only once, and not for long, afraid she would vomit in disgust. What she did see, though, was a thick streak of dark across patches of the dust, like something sooty had been trailed along.
        She breathed deep, and forced herself to look back down at the trail and follow it. It seemed to be heading for the mass of pipes. Sweetie swallowed, and tapped Silver Spoon's shoulder. “I think there's… something over there,” she said as she gestured at the pipes.
        Silver Spoon nodded silently, and they began making their way towards it. As they moved closer the air grew damp, almost wet. Sweetie felt a bead of condensation roll down her back — or was it sweat? The mass of pipes didn’t look like a knot anymore. It looked like a giant heart: the heart of the Bitmore. A massive, throbbing organ of steel and brass, hung by its arteries in the darkness. A slow, reverberating clang beat out its struggling pulse, making Sweetie’s own heart skip with each sound. It seemed to glow with some dim and otherworldly light, whatever magic kept the ghastly heart beating.
        It was only when they were a few feet away from the mass that Sweetie realized that she was not imagining the glow. This had been the source of the light. Something inside the twisted and snarling mass was glowing and gently flickering.
        “Was there… a lamp in there?” Sweetie asked Silver Spoon.
        Silver Spoon merely shook her head. “I didn't make it this deep in before,” she admitted. “This is new to me…” She chewed her lip. She took a faltering step forward, then back. “I think… I don't think anypony would want to live here. It's too spooky. I think we should go back.”
        “That's exactly what the Phantom would be relying on, though,” Sweetie pointed out. “He'd want to scare everypony away from his home. We need to check it out!” She breathed deeply, summoning all her courage, and surged forward between two especially thick pipes.
        “The Phantom isn't real,” Silver Spoon insisted from behind Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle didn't listen, though. She didn't hear. She was too shocked by what she saw.
        The inside of the mass was not a home, per se, more like a nest. A massive pile of newspapers and old, half-burned cushions matted along the bottom, suspended off the floor by the pipes. Several higher tubes had been used as makeshift shelves and tables. On one, a book and scattered sheets of musical notation. On a half-dozen others the source of light was revealed: Candles almost without number, in various colours, sizes, and states of melting. Though the light they cast outside was meager, it was brilliant here, setting the entire space alight and golden-brown. On the final shelf, centered perfectly, was a mask. A mask exactly the same as the one Sweetie still held.
        “S… Silver,” Sweetie stammered. “Silver, there's a m-mask here…”
        “A what?” Silver asked, poking her head through. She only had to look for a moment before she, too spotted it and went dumb with shock. “That…” she said, “That has to be a joke. Somepony is playing a prank, right?”
        “It's… a lot to do for a prank,” Sweetie said. “It looks like this has all been here for a while. I mean, there are lots of props around and stuff, but”
        “Fooooooooools!” a voice thundered through the room. Both Sweetie and Silver jumped, resulting in a loud clang as Silver smashed her head against a low-hanging pipe.
        “Silver!” Sweetie Belle said, jumping to her. “Are you okay?”
        “Ow, ponyfeathers,” Silver Spoon swore, clutching at her head. “I'm fine. Just… what was that?”
        “Who dares!?” the voice sounded again. “Who dares invade my home!?”
        Sweetie's head whipped around in search of the source of the voice. The sound rebounded and echoed off the multitude of pipes, making it impossible to track it. “Who's there?” She called out. She didn't need to, though. She already knew fully well who it was…
        “Who dares invade the lair, of the Phantom of the Bitmore!?”
        It was only then that Sweetie Belle saw the source of the voice. He stood atop the highest pipe, raised up on his hind legs and wrapped in a thick black cloak. Only a tiny sliver of his face showed, a pale pink. The rest was shrouded in a mask, the exact same mask lying in his home, and that Sweetie held.
        “You tiny, selfish ponies!” The Phantom jeered from his roost. “How dare you mar the glory of my precious Bitmore with your shallow ‘fashion shows’'!? Do you not know to whom this place belongs!?”
        Sweetie Belle was frozen solid with fear. Her whole body shook and trembled, and she was vaguely aware of a chattering sound she assumed was her teeth. The Phantom barely seemed to notice she existed, continuing his mad rant.
        “I will show you the error of your ways! I shall show you all destruction! If you do not leave this place I shall show you baptism through fire! Begone from this sacred place!”
        “Sweetie Belle!” Silver Spoon screamed, grabbing Sweetie's shoulders, “We have to go! We have to get out of here!” She practically hauled Sweetie Belle to her hooves as the Phantom leapt from his perch.
        He swooped through the air more gracefully than any pegasus Sweetie had ever seen, though he had no visible wings. His cloak trailed and whipped behind him like he had no body at all, like he was nothing but a ghost, every bit as black as the shadows in which he made his home. He was headed straight for them. Silver Spoon dragged Sweetie Belle to the ground just in time for the Phantom to sail through the air where their heads had been.
        “Run!” Silver Spoon screamed, and it finally clicked in Sweetie Belle's brain. Her hooves sprung to life, scrambling across the dusty floorboards and carrying her so fast that Silver Spoon struggled to keep up with her.
        The two fillies bolted through the deeper rooms, ducking and dodging under the Phantom as he screamed threats and epithets at them, as he cursed the fashion show and all the designers, as he promised death to all the models and anypony else who would dare to help the fashion show go forward.
        They screamed in kind, yelling in terror and desperation. They were so busy screaming that they didn't realize they had left the deep rooms until they ran headlong into Starling and an older unicorn.
        “Whoa, hey!” Starling cried as she toppled over. “What in Equestria!” She grabbed hold of Sweetie Belle. “Silver? Sweetie? Are you two okay? What's the matter!?”
        “The Phantom!” they screamed in unison. Starling gawked for a moment.
        “What on—” she said, picking herself up off the floor. “What are you two even doing back here?”
        “We-we-we!” Sweetie Belle stammered, struggling to keep her breath. “We heard about the Phantom! And S… I… I wanted to see if he existed or not, so we came back here, and… we found him!”
        “Oh, honestly!” Starling said, facehoofing hard. “I'm going to kill whoever's been talking about that stupid old story with impressionable young fillies around… but you!” She said sharply, turning to glare at Silver Spoon, “Should really know better, young lady! Taking Sweetie into the deeper rooms… it's dangerous back here!”
        “I… w-well,” Silver Spoon faltered, looking at the ground. “Yeah, but I…”
        “I asked her to,” Sweetie cut in. “But that's not important, Miss Starling! The Phantom is real! We saw him!”
        “Oh, don't be silly,” Starling chided. “The Phantom is just an old rumor. And besides, it's pitch black in there! The electric is getting set up this evening. You probably just half-saw some old pipes or something a vagrant left behind and got scared… I don't blame you! It's spooky back there. Which is why it's no place for little fillies.”
        “She's right, Mom,” Silver Spoon added. “It wasn't the dark — he's got this nest of candles, and—”
        “Silver Spoon, that's quite enough,” Starling said sharply. “You've both had a big scare, and I won't have you working each other up.” She sighed, and turned to the older stallion, who was picking himself up off the floor. “I'm very sorry about this,” she said. “My daughter and her friend—”
        “Oh, not at all, not at all,” the stallion said with a laugh. “I was young once you know, though I realize it doesn't seem like it.” He adjusted a thick pair of spectacles. “I assure you if my knees still worked right I'd be dashing about here as well. So much history!” He turned to Sweetie Belle and added, “I see our young miss here has found a piece of history herself! That looks like a prop mask for the Phantom, from Phantom of the Opera! The Bitmore put on a few good shows of that, you know.”
        “Huh?” Sweetie asked, looking back down at the mask. Now that he mentioned it, Sweetie had had the vague feeling that it looked familiar. “I… guess it is,” she said. “The Phantom had one just like this! Two, actually…”
        “Well yes, of course,” the Old Stallion said. “The recent films may make the Phantom less and less ugly with each passing adaption, but theater productions still use replicas of the original prop.”
        “That's not—” Sweetie said, but Starling and the old stallion had stopped listening to her.
        “At any rate, I've found plenty already,” the old stallion said. “I wouldn't mind a second pass, but we can handle that later — I'll need a team to come take away some of the larger props anyways, so I can do another sweep then.”
        “Ah, that sounds wonderful,” Starling said as she turned towards the exit. “I hope it doesn't seem like I'm shoving you out the door, but it's getting close to time for the electricians to show up, I think, so I need to make sure everything is ready. My husband will be dealing with the stallions themselves, but I'd like to check in with all the designers before they arrive.”
        “Of course, I understand,” the old stallion said with a wave of his hoof. “You're a busy mare, doing Celestia's good work here. Lots of ponies have many fond memories of this place, and will be happy to see it re-opening. Myself included, frankly.”
        “That's all I hope to hear,” Starling said. She breathed a small sigh and seemed to relax some.
        As though following her lead, Sweetie Belle felt some of the tension seep from her own shoulders. She and Silver were safe from the Phantom, for now at least. That was what important. Still, it was a shame that Silver had gotten in trouble. Sweetie Belle peered over at her. Silver Spoon looked more bored than upset, but Sweetie thought she saw a hint of regret in her eye. Sweetie Belle frowned, and slowly scooted closer. “Silver,” she whispered. “I'm sorry that your mom—” but she couldn't get any more out before Starling's hoof cut between them and dragged Silver Spoon away.
        “Ooooh no,” Starling said. “I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle, but Silver Spoon is in quite a lot of trouble right now. I've told her about sneaking into the storage rooms before, to say nothing of bringing somepony else back there! I'm afraid she can't talk to you at the moment.”
        “W—it's not her fault!” Sweetie objected. “I asked her to bring me back here!”
        “Maybe, but she agreed to it,” Starling replied. “That makes her just as responsible as you. I leave it up to your sister to decide if you'll be punished or not.”
        Silver Spoon shot her a look from between her mother's legs. Surprisingly, it was not one of vitriol, but simply of sympathy and resignation. Sweetie Belle wanted to object further, but upon seeing that face she simply chewed her lip and groaned a bit.
        They parted ways with the old stallion at the entrance to the storage room, then the trio of Sweetie Belle, Silver Spoon and Starling trotted silently through the halls to the main backstage where the designers were working.
        Sweetie couldn’t help but worry about those poor mares and stallions. She and Silver might be safe from the Phantom, but that didn't mean the designers were. Which one of them would the Phantom go after first? The elegant Canterlot unicorn mare? The pegasus stallion who had been flirting with the workers? Rarity? Sweetie Belle blanched at the thought of it. She suddenly felt frightened all over again, but a very different sort of fear this time. It sat in her gut like a stone, weighing her whole body down. Her shoulders felt cold, and her knees weak. Somepony needed to do something! But who? Starling wouldn't listen, and if Starling wouldn't listen, then who would? It was her theater, she had as much stock in it as anypony.
        Even if she could get somepony to listen, what could be done? The Phantom moved like a ghost — what if he was a ghost? How would they be able to get rid of a haunting before somepony got hurt? If the Phantom was allowed to proceed, he could burn down the theater again, or worse… The Phantom of the Opera hadn't been so random as that, in the musical that seemed to inspire the Phantom of the Bitmore. He had attacked ponies directly, and hanged them from the lighting.
        Right now Sweetie Belle was one of the only ponies that knew the Phantom really existed. Nopony else would believe her. That meant that she had to do something herself. Alone. How could she take on a ghost alone?
        She was thinking herself in circles, driving herself so batty that she wasn't even aware of where they were until Rarity's voice cut through her thoughts.
        “Oooooh dear,” Rarity said. Sweetie looked up, and realized that Rarity was looking between her and Silver Spoon. “They didn't have a fight, did they..?”
        “No, no, nothing like that,” Starling said. “Quite the opposite. These two were thick as thieves — in the storage room I explicitly told Silver Spoon she was not allowed to go into.”
        “Really?” Rarity asked, slightly taken aback. “That doesn't sound like Sweetie… what were you doing back there?”
        “We were…” Sweetie started, but thought over it. Rarity would believe her no more than anypony else had. There was no point in telling her the truth. “I… just wanted to explore more, is all,” she replied bashfully. “I just got excited.”
        Rarity sighed, and shook her head. “Well, I'm glad you're both alright, at least,” she said.
        “I wouldn't worry about it,” Starling said. “The damage is done, and it was minimal. Nothing happened, just a broken rule. It's up to you to decide how serious that is, I suppose. Normally I wouldn't bother you with it, but I actually came to make sure you have something set up to store your clothes?” She looked over the rack of intricate, gauzy wraps Rarity had assembled, all of which looked terribly fragile.
        “Oh… well,” Rarity said slowly, “I was just planning on leaving them here overnight. I hadn't realized… is there some reason I can't?”
        Starling grimaced. “That won't do at all, I'm afraid,” she said. “The electricians will be working through the night, wiring the stage and all the backstage areas… it'll be a lot of big stallions who need lots of room, and if things go poorly there could be sparks… I'd hate for anything to happen to your beautiful dresses.”
        “Oh goodness,” Rarity said, looking back at her line. “Ooooh goodness. Oh, princesses. The hotel room I booked isn't nearly big enough to store all these, not safely… I can ask if they have storage room I can use, but… the material is so fragile I can't risk…” She began to chew on her hoof. “I should make a call. I might be able to book a bigger room. Or find a different hotel.”
        “Oh, I was afraid of that,” Starling said. “But don't worry! I have the perfect solution!”
        Rarity blinked. “You do?” she asked.
        “Yes,” Starling said matter-of-factly. “Cancel your reservation.”
        Once again, Rarity blinked. Then a third time. “Ah…” she said slowly. Sweetie Belle had known Rarity long enough to know when she was summoning up her tact, and it was clear she was fighting hard. “Miss Starling, I… am not certain how you feel that would help, but—”
        “I'm serious,” Starling said, clapping her hooves on Rarity's shoulders. “You and your sister will stay with my family and I at our Manehattan home.”
        “What?” Rarity asked, dumbfounded. “Miss Starling, I — I couldn't—”
        “Nonsense,” Starling said, shaking her head. “I've already told you, you're doing me an enormous favour. Anyways, it's my fault for not warning you sooner that you would need to store the dresses yourself. Our home has more than enough storage space, and plenty of room for two guests as well. You'll never even have to cross paths with us if you don't want to! I can send all of the proper information home with a courier so they're ready to receive you. Please, this is the least I can do for…” She looked over her shoulder and leaned in. “For our top designer here, you know. I'm very much looking forward to your showing, and I want them to look as good as possible. I insist you let me help.”
        “I… oh… well,” Rarity said. She smiled suddenly and hid her blush behind a hoof. “How can I possibly say no to such generosity? Thank you so much, Miss Starling. I'd love to be your family's guest for the weekend.”
        “Perfect!” Starling said with a clap. “Then it's settled! You and your sister will take a courier to our home when you're ready and finished for the night, and we'll store your dresses somewhere safe.”
        From her vantage point on the edge of the conversation, Sweetie Belle sighed with relief. At least there would be no worries of the Phantom attacking the dresses in the night. Rarity would be devastated. It was almost funny. At the beginning of the day she'd have loathed the thought of spending a night in the same house as Silver Spoon, but she was too relieved to care now.
        Something clicked in her head, then. She wasn't just relieved. She didn't just 'not care' about spending the night with Silver Spoon. Silver Spoon, the only other pony in the world who knew the Phantom was real. She was ecstatic! Silver could help Sweetie Belle out so much! The Phantom may have been the only other pony alive who knew more about this theater than Silver Spoon, and she'd proven herself an expert at sneaking and plotting. Surely between the two of them they could come up with a ploy to stop the Phantom, ghost or no! She grinned and shimmied with excitement where she sat.
        Rarity and Starling said their last thanks and goodbyes and then Starling set off, Silver Spoon in tow. Sweetie Belle shot Silver Spoon a wide grin. Silver Spoon, for her part, merely looked confused. She would understand Sweetie Belle's smile soon, though.
        Rarity sighed and slumped down onto a stool. “Goodness, me,” she said. “I'm very sorry, Sweetie Belle. I know you and Silver Spoon don't get along very well… I hate to force you to spend your weekend with her… if you like I'm sure I can find some excuse for you to avoid her tonight and tomorrow…”
        “Oh, no!” Sweetie cut in, still grinning ear to ear. “I'm actually really excited!”
        Rarity simply stared as Sweetie Belle smiled. Slowly her blank stare turned into an expression of vague fear and concern, the expression she always had when she suspected Sweetie was hatching one of her plans.


***


        Silver Spoon slipped silently into the dressing room. She closed the door behind her. Then she checked to make sure it was shut tight. Only then did she start fumble against the wall for the light. After a moment of probing she found the switch and flicked it on. The lights of the vanity desk flickering to life illuminated the pearly white mask inches from her face.
        “Cripes!” she shouted, barely keeping herself from slamming back against the door.
        The Phantom snickered, taking a few steps back and trying — unsuccessfully — to stifle a laugh. “Hah!” he said. 'His' voice was starkly higher than before, not that it eased Silver Spoon's pounding heart. “Got you.”
        Silver Spoon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, sighing. “Real funny, Diamond. You're a master comedian.”
        “A mastermind you mean,” Diamond Tiara said, pulling off her mask and rubbing away some sweat. “Was this a great plan or what? I can’t believe we got so lucky with that squatter who set up a nest in those pipes, too. Made it so much better. I told you there was an upside to that little dork being here all weekend.”
        “Sure,” Silver Spoon said, trotting over to the desk chair and sitting down. “I mean, I'm getting in trouble for it, but sure.”
        “Oh, pff,” Diamond said as she undid her cloak. “It’s not like there’s no chance that I’ll get in trouble if my Aunt learns I’m sneaking off and tells Daddy.” 
        “Aren’t you the one who said there was literally no way she’d know if you were there or gone?” Silver pointed out. “And there’s not ‘a chance’ I’ll be in trouble, I’m in trouble right now.”
Diamond Tiara dismissed this with a wave of her hoof. “Whatever. So you don't get to watch TV for a couple of days. We get to watch Sweetie Belle crying for mommy instead. Sounds like a fair tradeoff to me, right?”
        “Right,” Silver Spoon lied. It was a cheap thrill at best. It's not like it was even particularly challenging. Honestly, it was like Sweetie Belle hadn't grown up at all in the last two years. Did she really believe in ghosts? How juvenile. Even worse, how could she genuinely trust Silver Spoon enough to go with her into the deeper rooms? It had been almost laughably easy to get her back there. How could anypony be so sweet and naive?
        “You did a good job in there, too,” Diamond Tiara said offhandedly as she folded up her cloak. “You really acted like you were creeped out! Didn't know you were so good at acting. How come you never tried out for anything at home?”
        “I don't like theater,” Silver said simply. “Anyways, I was creeped out. It's freaky back there!”
        Diamond Tiara shot her a smirk and snorted. “Seriously? Don't be a wimp, Silver. It's just a room! You and I both know those rumors are dumb. We're here to scare a baby, not you. Unless you are a baby.” She grinned wider, and slipped the mask back on. “Cause then The Phantom will have to come for you too!”
        “Oh, whatever,” Silver said with a snort. “I'll be better tomorrow. We'll only be there a few minutes anyways.”
        “What? No way!” Diamond Tiara said. “You've gotta be in there for even longer! We'll be able to scare her even more!”
        “I don't think that's a good idea,” Silver Spoon said. “Sweetie Belle is a doofus, but she's not dumb. If she sees you for too long, she'll definitely figure out something is up. I think we need to keep this short—”
        “Hey, who's the mastermind here, me or you?” Diamond Tiara snapped. “Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. 'Cause Sweetie Belle is dumb, and she'll definitely fall for it. Especially if she's scared out of her wits. So you just get her back there, and let me handle the hard part, okay? Just sit back and enjoy the show.”
        Silver Spoon adjusted her glasses, peering hard at Diamond Tiara just like her sister had taught her to do. It didn't work, though. Diamond Tiara simply carried on storing away the Phantom costume, humming to herself as she plotted out how she would scare Sweetie Belle next.
        This was dumb, Silver Spoon thought. They were going to get themselves caught. Even if Sweetie Belle was stupid enough to fall for it three days running, any little thing could mess this up and it'd be all over, sitting in Silver Spoon's lap. A few days grounding would stretch out into weeks, not to mention whatever she'd have to do to make it up to Sweetie Belle. Or pretend to do, at least. She sighed. All she could do was ride it out and try to make sure Sweetie didn't suspect anything. At least it would make this weekend interesting.