Winterwoods is a candlemaker. She lives in a cottage by the woods where she collects flowers and other plants to make scents for her candles. Usually, the forest is calm and pleasant, with sunlight filtering through the trees and birds chirping. But the woods are different at night... what secrets are harbored in the darkness?
Special thanks for my sweetie for making the cover art!
Also, thank you for reading, if you have, I'd be super appreciative for some feedback, leave a comment about what you liked/disliked!
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out, probably long before dawn. Her room was silent and still and, from what she could tell, everything was as she left it.
The familiar smell of beeswax, cinnamon and flowers drifted softly from her day's work downstairs, a muted light still radiated from the hearth below, and an occasional crackle of burnt wood reached her twitching ears. Everything in her home seemed normal. Yet, the heavy sensation that something was wrong still weighed in her mind. She felt herself drawn towards the door downstairs, to the outside… out to the woods. With a shudder, she pulled off her blankets and slipped from her bed over to the nearby window.
The need for certainty was the only thing that compelled her to work up the courage to peer through. Her bedroom was on the second floor loft of her cottage, and it gave her a vantage point over the small clearing on which her home stood. A stream babbled softly across her lawn, drifting past her rose bushes and vegetable patch before flowing off into the woods.
And there it was, as she feared… It was happening again. Every night, for many months now, they did this. The woods were fogged over and dense, and a soft light illuminated the gloom of the forest outside just enough to make out the outlines of the nearest trees. It filled her with a deep sense of dread, though she was unable to place why. It wasn’t uncommon for fog to roll through the woods, especially in the autumn.
Conflicted, Winterwoods turned her attention up to the sky. The moon had waned completely, leaving nothing but a few paltry stars which, try as they might, illuminated nothing. So why were the woods so bright in the fog? Where was the light coming from? Curiosity finally rising over fear, Winterwoods silently made her way down the to the front door. Slowly, and with trepidation, she cracked open the hatch and peered outside.
Nothing had changed in the distance; the woods were still gloomy and lit softly by the mist. Stepping outside, the crisp autumn air nipped at her ears and nose. The smell of leaves and damp soil met her nostrils, which was usual for this time of year, but something new caught her attention. Something she couldn’t quite place lingered in the air, it was subtle, and sweet like roses, yet vaguely minty. Winterwoods prided herself on knowing the scents of flowers, and this scent was different. This scent felt new to her.
Nose to the air, she glanced fearfully towards the nearby treeline. She stared hesitantly for a few minutes, thinking hard about what she was about to do. Finally, she reached for her shawl and her satchel for gathering plants. She clicked the door shut behind her and, with the faintest resolve, set out towards the forest ahead.
She crossed the clearing slowly, unsure of her footing in the darkness. The only thing she had to light her way was the low gloom of the forest ahead, and the ever shrinking light from the interior of her home. The forest was alive with the sounds of life and movement. The last of the year’s crickets still chirped softly, and the breeze rustled the trees. Owls hooted in the distance, and the stream chortled softly beside her as she followed it up to the trees, all of which was complemented by the soft crunch of dry leaves beneath her hooves.
She paused at the edge of the wood. The fog was even creepier up close, and it felt cold to the touch. The trees overhead wrapped their long branches thickly around one another, blocking out the starry sky. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a toothy mouth, ever agape, waiting to swallow up the unaware that wandered in. The mist swirled in loose ribbons around her hooves, and grew thicker farther into the forest. With a soft whimper, and threatened resolve, Winterwoods took the first steps into the thicket.
She struggled to remind herself that she walked this timberland nearly every morning, and that she wasn’t anywhere that she hadn’t been before. But a fear lingered still in her heart, because the difference between day and night seemed greatly exaggerated here. Winterwoods had never really feared the night or the dark before, but from the day she’d moved in, something unnatural about these woods itched at her when darkness fell.
As she wandered further in, the sounds of the night faded into silence. It grew deeper and louder until it pulsed with every beat of her heart. She’d never been somewhere where her own footsteps felt muted, where no sounds of nature or any living things reached out to her. Winterwoods stopped on the misty path and stared at the empty trail ahead, fear gripping her completely. Something was terribly wrong. Flipping around, she went to turn back and squeaked in shock.
The path that had been behind her previously now ended mere inches away from where she stood; she was instead met with a wall of trees and a thick fog that swirled menacingly around every trunk and bush. Mouth agape, she attempted to stammer anything to express her shock. She was silenced by a rustling amongst the brush nearby, violently breaking the heavy silence.
Heart racing, Winterwoods shrunk back and dodged hastily into the foliage opposite the sound, then peered timidly out, trying to still her shaking and heavy breathing. There was a brief silence, then a scrambling of feet as a couple of rabbits bounded by. The source of their alarm made itself known briefly after, and Winterwoods stared in horror as it moved silently through the flora.
It was a tall, dark mass that took the shape of a large pony. It had no particular features, only an equine outline that had a faint blue aura around its black body. Without shifting a single leaf it passed through the trees and brush, clearly unaffected by the solidity of the world around it.
The air grew colder, and Winterwoods began to fear that it may hear her shivering in the nearby brush. The dread of its presence was soon so crushing that she wanted to cover her eyes and scream. Her heart kicked against her chest, and her skin crawled as though maggots nestled in her fur. The thing stopped on its course beside where she lay hidden, and Winterwoods shreiked internally, promising anything to the moon if the creature would just go away. After a few lingering seconds, the creature moved slowly onward. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the mist lessened, and the sweet flowery scent returned.
Winterwoods let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and dared a glance down the path the thing had taken. The trail was empty. With a small sigh of relief, she shifted slightly in her hiding spot and carefully slid out as to not make any noise. The path she’d walked before was still non-existent amongst the trees; she gulped, knowing that the only way forward was the same path that the monster had taken.
Winterwoods shivered and closed her eyes. She very much regretted coming out to the woods that night. She wished that she’d have just let it go and tried to go back to sleep. With a sigh, she turned herself around and froze… Eyes closed in mid blink, her hair stood on end and she suddenly knew. The air was still very cold… Trembling, she opened her eyes slowly to the horror of the black mass bearing down upon her.
She tried to scream, but it was lost in what sounded like an ocean of static invading her ears. As the world darkened around her and her senses crumbled, she heard voices echoing above.
"You're overreacting," a soft voice started. "Will you just listen to me?"
“No! You will listen to ME for once! There is nothing wrong with me! There's nothing wrong with what I desire! I should say that I am under-reacting, if anything!!! Do you dare deny me as an equal?! I am truly better at what I do than you will EVER be!” it shrieked. “All of this is your fault this time! You must admit for once that there’s nothing wrong with ME!” As these final words faded from hearing, the sweet flowery scent grew strong and then waned with the last of her consciousness.
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out; and was long before dawn she guessed.
Winterwoods wasted no time in hopping to her hooves and scrambling over to the window. Peering through, she sighed a little at what she saw. Sure enough the woods were fogged over, but this time the thick haze that coated the woods moved slowly, and was a sickly green. Placing a hoof on the glass, she stared out in confusion.
She trembled with the memory of what she’d just experienced, and tried to convince herself that it couldn’t have been real. How else would she still be in her home? Or alive, for that matter? Hoping to write it all off as a really bad dream, she shook her head and made her way back towards her bed. She gasped, started. The bed where she’d been laying mere moments previous was neatly made. On the comforter sat her shawl and satchel. The nagging itch to race out to the woods still lingered in her mind.
“I… I have to go back out there… don’t I?” Winterwoods whispered as she reached for her things. “Something is going on, and something needs to be done. I can feel it. Something… something is terribly wrong.” Having put on her shawl and bag, she walked to the stairs. Looking back to her room one last time, she wished that she had somepony there with her.
Starting at a trot, she crossed the clearing just like before. The sweet scent was still faintly in the air. The crickets, owls and stream once again hummed their nightly tune. She paused briefly at the edge of the thicket and noted how different it was this time. The mist lingered more heavily, and the sickly color was appropriate for the earthy, yet sour smell it carried with it.
Her face twisted in revulsion as the smell assaulted her sensitive nose, but she stepped forward into the trees anyway. The path was wider this time, which made Winterwoods feel all the more nervous. It left her so much more exposed than before. And all the brush around the road appeared to be gone, leaving nowhere to hide if she needed to.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she answered the calling in the back of her mind and continued cautiously onward, doing her best to walk silently. Winterwood’s eyes constantly darted around in search of places she could escape to if need be, but the trees were so dense that such spaces were few and far between. What little she did find would be hard to slip through, especially if she had to run.
Very slightly at first, the pathway began to dip and swerve. The foul scent in the air was growing heavier and the ground became softer and wetter. It was foul, and oily from plant rot. To her dismay, she was soon walking ankle deep in cold mud and clay, and the smell was so nauseating that she feared she’d faint from it. The trees began to thin out, and the visibility of the surrounding area began to improve.
“Where on earth did all this muck come from?” She gawked down at her filthy hooves, the white patches on her legs were stained and caked with the mud. She looked to her surroundings. The forest had gradually degraded into a bog of sorts, and the muck only seemed to deepen with each step. It wasn’t long before Winterwoods began to struggle. Each step took a heave of her whole body, and her only choice was to move towards the remaining trees on her right. It looked like their roots covered more solid soil, and could make travel much easier. Or at least give her a break from the slimy stuff she was in now.
“This would be easier if I knew where I was going,” Winterwoods huffed. “Or if I knew what I’m actually looking for out here.“ She reached for low hanging branches to help pull herself up out of the mud and finally plopped herself onto more substantial ground. Breathing out her exhaustion, she took a look around. The trees were spaced sporadically apart, and through the fog she could see that on the opposite side of the solid ground water began to build on top of the mud.
The croaking of frogs and the chirping of crickets rang through the bog, and Winterwoods noticed that while she could clearly hear them, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the noises originated from. With a creeping sense of dread re-kindling itself, her sense of wonder at the sudden bog in her forest quickly faded. Turning, she looked back at where she’d climbed from, and wasn’t surprised to find it no longer marred by her hoofprints and her sliding through the muck. It was so pristine, it looked like it’d never been touched by life at all. It even had a few inches of water on top of it.
A gurgle disrupted her thoughts and she turned her gaze back towards the bulk of the bog. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Stepping carefully, she lowered herself closer to the muck and peered into the waters, wondering just how deep the they went there. She looked for nearby rocks jutting above the surface and stepped onto them. She slowly made her way out into the middle of the water and onto a log.
Glug. Winterwoods froze in her steps and listened intently. Gurgle. She frantically scanned the area for any sign of movement, any sign of life beside the invisible frogs. Blort. The air was growing cold, and terror seized her heart. It was coming. She was trapped, like it’d waited for her to become just curious enough to venture out before closing in.
“Where are you then?!” She shouted angrily. “What do you want from me?!” She did her best to seem brave. She was shaking in her horseshoes, but her frustration made for at least an attempt at courage. A shrill and forceful breeze nearly knocked her off her hooves. She turned her attention to its source, and found a form rising out from the muck, moving slowly towards her. In the depths of her mind, she heard the sound of faint static growing louder.
She covered her ears as it grew to unbearable levels. She felt incapacitated, like her muscles refused to work. The muck form swelled and bulged amorphously, reaching towards her. The thing mere yards away, the sound of static gave way to the sounds of water droplets. Winterwoods turned away, searching desperately for a means of escape. There was none.
The rocks she'd used to get where she was were gone, and the tree roots much farther away than she recalled. With a yelp, Winterwood's legs gave out and she buckled down to the rough, splintery log, squeezing her ears and eyes shut in pain as voices once again pierced straight into her brain.
“How dare you?! HOW DARE YOU!?!” one shrieked.
“Please, calm down! Let me explain!” the other tried to edge in.
“No! No more lies! How could you do this after all my work?! How could you do this to me after you promised me?!” the first growled again.
“I never meant to hurt you! I just-“
“You LIAR! I can’t believe I let myself listen to you! But never again! This time, I’ll make you regret this! I HATE YOU!” the voices ebbed and Winterwoods was left in ice-cold silence. With a shaky breath, she lowered her hooves from her ears and slowly tried to stand up. She felt a snort, a blast of hot air ruffled her fur. Shaking, and with the most tender of movements, Winterwoods turned to face what lurked behind her.
She was met, face to face, with the dark mass, this time looking right into a set of beady, dead eyes and the gaped jaws of a gigantic alligator. There was a brief pause before the voice resonated again.
“This time, there will be no more lies. You will give me what I deserve. You will, or I will take it from you.” The creature suddenly lurched forward, jaws wide. The last thing Winterwoods heard before the world turned black was the sound of her own scream cut short with a snap.
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out; and was long before dawn she guessed. Her room was silent and still.
She barely made it over the edge of her bed before she vomited. With a wail, she cried out to the darkness, hoping that it would be enough to scare it away. To her dismay, while the fear clenched her tightly still, she felt the woods calling out to her yet again.
She refused to go. She’d cleaned up her mess and looked over to her bed to find it once again well made, her things neatly stacked upon the quilt. She brushed her things to the floor and crawled back into her bed, waiting for the dawn. She began counting seconds into hours, but no sign of the dawn came.
“You’re going to have to go eventually.” A voice croaked. Winterwoods nearly jumped out of her fur and looked around her room.
“Who said that?” she asked the darkness.
“That would be me.” The voiced shot out again. From the corner. Her eyes widened as a sizeable raven gently hopped from the shadows and fluttered up onto her bed. He tottered over to her and continued, “Something has to be done about the mist.”
“That doesn’t mean that it has to be me to go out there. I'll go find help in the morning.” Winterwoods crossed her hooves and eyed the suspicious bird.
“I fear that morning won’t come until it is done.” The raven squawked, and picked at the bedspread for loose strings. “Somepony has to go into the woods.”
Winterwoods snorted at this. “And you want me to go; the one who is currently hallucinating about having a conversation with a bird. A bird who I just so happen to know shouldn’t be here, and who probably doesn’t even exist.” She chortled and rolled over with the covers above her head.
“Hey! All dreams speak the same language. And we are all trapped here unless something is done.” He exclaimed and pecked at the covers until she pulled them down. She stared intently at the intruding bird.
“All? Who counts as all exactly? Wait, you mean to say that we’re asleep right now? Like trapped in a dream?” Winterwoods asked.
“If that much wasn’t obvious already by now, yes, we are all trapped within a single dream. By all, I mean all the creatures that inhabit this wood, yourself included of course,” he crowed.
“I guess that makes sense. Maybe? But how do I know that you're not just another trick of this crazy nightmare?" She glared. "And even if you're not, I don’t want to go back out there anyway. Whatever it is that's out there… it really wants to hurt me.” She teared up a little. The raven hopped closer and nestled himself beside her, resting its head under her snout.
“Woodsy, please. I don't want you to be scared or hurt, but if you don’t go and fix this, none of us may ever wake up again. We’ll die this way. All of us.” He rasped in his coarse voice and added, “I’m scared to die.” Looking down at the face pleading up at her, she felt her heart ache. If this was another trick, it was very convincing. Winterwoods softly cried; this time less from fear, than from shame. For several moments, her hitching breaths and trembling sighs filled the dark corners of the room.
“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking of anypony else. I didn't know you were all trapped in this horrible nightmare too.” She frowned and gently stroked the bird's dark feathers. “But I don’t think I can go back out there alone; I don’t even know why this is happening to me, to you, to our woods, of all places. What can I do to stop this?” Getting up off the bed, Winterwoods went to the window and looked out over the looming forest. It was definitely still misty. “I don’t think it’s something I can do by myself.” she added.
The bird nodded understandingly. “My mother used to have a saying about things like this: The times we shine the brightest are the times we must walk alone through the darkness.” The raven said as comfortingly as his rough voice could allow. “I’m sorry that all this lays at your feet, I wish there was more I could do to help you, but… well, right now you’re the only light I see in this darkness.”
Winterwoods turned towards the bird. She should have been terrified of its very presence, but she was honestly just glad for someone to talk to. She couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just another trick, but the raven appeared to be right. Dawn did not seem to be coming, and something had to happen. With a heavy sigh, Winterwoods turned towards the things she’d dumped onto the floor. She put on her shawl and satchel, and glanced briefly into her bedroom mirror. She looked awful, like she hadn’t slept in months. How ironic.
“Okay. I’m going out there.” She said flatly to the stately bird on her bed. It nodded. “No chance you’d know where exactly I need to be going?” she pleaded. If the bird could frown, she sensed it would have.
“Alas, no.” it cawed. “These woods are different from those in the waking world; I couldn’t even tell you where I make my home anymore. Every time you ‘wake up’, these woods are different. It was luck that I found you at all...” it added sadly.
“Maybe you could come with me, be a second set of eyes.” Winterwoods suggested, but the bird shook its head.
“I’m afraid I’d be no use in that manner either. These dream woods separate those who walk its paths. I… I lost my wife in just that way on our way here… I can try to be of more help if I wait here, I can't if I become lost. But you must be the one to go out. All the creatures can feel it; the forest is calling out to you.” The raven flew from the bed and landed on Winterwood’s back.
“Please, I know it’s a lot to ask, but go out there. Please. Wake us up,” it pleaded. Winterwoods nodded sadly, and walked down the stairs, bird in tow.
The door clicked shut behind her, and once again Winterwoods stood staring out at the trees from her front door. She had a little comfort in not being completely alone for the moment. But the mist had grown into a thick fog. She knew it was going to be easy to get turned around in that.
She took a moment and sniffed at the air. The sweet scent was back yet again, thicker than ever before. It was like a desperate wish of comfort in an unhappy time. The raven hopped down from her back and onto a nearly chopping log.
“Are you ready for this?” it asked.
“I haven’t exactly had good experiences out there. So no, not really.” She looked to the raven who tilted his head and puffed his feathers for warmth. "But I'll go."
“I’ll be right here when you get back.” It ushered her to go with its wings.
At a much less confident pace than the time before, she made her way to the forest’s edge. The shrubbery and brush was back in full swing. Much of it was overgrown into a sharp bramble that became increasingly hard to navigate. The fog was no help in this, combining with the branches, it became very hard to see. The only constant was the view of the trees looming above. They towered much taller than she remembered, and as she pushed her way through the rough foliage she realized that the further she went, the more lost she became.
With a deep breath, she pressed on until she found her way into a clearing. Only then did Winterwoods notice all the little cuts that had torn through her shawl and lacerated her body. Some of them were bleeding a little, and they were beginning to sting, but it was nothing she hadn’t lived through before. Pressing forward again, the fog became even denser in the clearing than it was in the bramble. Barely able to see her hoof in front of her face, Winterwoods stepped gingerly to ensure she didn’t trip. The clearing seemed to go on forever. Daring a glance behind her, she found nothing visible or familiar. Her only choice was to walk as straight as she could possibly manage to try to and find the edge, and work from there.
After she'd walked a while longer, every step she took felt a little colder. She noticed that the ground was frosting up the farther forward she went. Making no attempt this time to hide her fear, she found herself panting heavily, waiting for something to reach out and grab her. Instead, of all things, she tripped.
She tripped over a shallow wall of stones and was falling, deeper and deeper into what appeared to be a well. Flailing wildly, she smacked her hoof harshly against the side, causing an awful pain to shoot up her leg. But in doing so, she managed to flip herself around to see the light of the mist above get farther and farther away. And worse, that monster was peering down the hole at her, it's dead, empty eyes piercing into her no matter how far she fell.
She hit water. Everything around her was black; even the light from the top of the well was gone. She was floating through nothingness, desperately trying to find the surface. The sound of static washed into her ears again, but this time it was accompanied by that slow, awful sound of dripping water. Her breath finally giving out in a weak blast of bubbles, Winterwoods once again heard the angry voices from before as she choked for air. Every word reverberated in the water and she felt each syllable right to her very core.
“It doesn’t have to be this way… I don’t want to be the bad pony. I don’t want to be a villain. Despite my anger, and against my better judgement, I decided to ask this of you cordially. I just want what is rightfully mine! Will you not give even that to me?” said an angry voice.
“What you want is madness. I cannot allow you to do this; you’ll put others at risk for the sake of your own pride!” The second, softer voice spoke firmly.
“Madness? MADNESS?! What is madness is how much everypony simply adores you! You have done NOTHING worthy of the honor you receive from them! All I ask is recognition for the hard work I do, for the same love you receive for nothing at all!” the first voice shouted.
“You must calm yourself! Your hunger for attention has gone far enough! Your threats and hatred have gone beyond harming just yourself, and I cannot abide by this any longer. I rule over you AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!” the second voice, having finally lost its temper, returned a verbal blow.
“No.” the first voice hardened into a tone beyond anger.
“What?” the softer voice spat.
“No. No more threats, no more pleading. This is what has gone on long enough. This time, you have truly gone too far. If you will not accept me as an equal, then perhaps you’ll accept me as your enemy.” The first voice maintained its new, frightening tone and was dictated with a coldness that licked like frostfire on the ears.
“Wait, what are you doing? NO! Stop!” the softer voice shrieked as Winterwoods faded out.
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out; and was long before dawn she guessed. Her room was silent and still.
“What happened?”
Startled, Winterwoods yelped and nearly fell out of her bed.
The bird sat upon her bedpost in a puffed, worried stance. The air was chilled and the presence of the world felt heavier than ever before.
“So you fell, heard the voices again, and just woke up back here?” the raven asked. Winterwoods nodded, rubbing softly at her throat. She felt like she’d just been choked. Perhaps she genuinely had.
“I’m starting to worry that I’m just dead and this is my personal torment for having done something wrong.” Winterwoods sniffed sullenly.
“If that were the case, then clearly the mouse I ate last week would be here, telling me so,” the raven offered. Winterwoods scrunched her nose and snorted.
“That’s not really helping.” She scolded, but looked over to her neatly stacked items sitting once again at the end of her bed. With a sigh, she got to her feet. “This is the last thing I want to do, but the only thing worse than going out there and being tormented is sitting here moping and wishing this wasn’t happening.” She slung her items on again. “If there is a way I can put an end to this, then I have to try.” Winterwoods stomped off before the raven could reply, and made her way out her front door once again.
The sweet scent lingered still in the air, powering past the smell of dew and water, the earthy smell of her home and garden, even the smell of her chicken coop. With a new determination she charged up to the treeline. Stopping at the edge, she observed the forest closely. It looked very similar to how it did when she was awake, the one major difference being the unnatural fog that still swirled heavily around every plant and tree.
“I’m sick of this. Show me your worst, forest! Come at me, monster!” She growled, and galloped down the path. She did not slow down for anything this time. She ran the long, winding trail until her lungs burned, her hooves were numb and her legs felt like they would fall off. She ran until she simply couldn’t run any farther.
She came to a stop alongside a creek, near collapse and gasping for air as her limbs trembled from overexertion. Tenderly stepping to the edge of the brook she took a quick drink from the frigid water as it babbled by. It was clear and icy, being the glacial runoff of the nearby mountains, and it briefly soothing her parched throat, and allowed herself to breathe for awhile. Her whole body ached, but it was a minor nuisance compared to the fact that she hadn’t come across anything yet.
“Enough!” she shouted into the fog. “Show yourself, you coward!” She belted out the words as loudly as she could manage, and to her it sounded almost like primal roar amidst the trees. Her answer was quickly met with a wintry blast of air that knocked her harshly off her hooves. It coated the whole area in a thick frost, and chilled Winterwoods to the bone. Scrambling to her feet, she watched as the whole landscape around her changed. Frost grew into ice, and ice into frozen walls, and walls into an icy cavern. It continued to shift and move until she stood at the entrance of a deep, dark cave of solid ice.
“Alrighty then... Good job. Thanks.” She mumbled to the powers that sent the disconcerting message. After a brief moment of wavering resolve, Winterwoods stepped forward into the cave. As she went further and further in, the frost-encrusted walls swallowed the light,devouring with it any sense of security and warmth. But as the cave became darker, Winterwoods could see something glowing faintly in the distance. As the prickling ice settled into her spine, she found she could no longer tell the difference between the cold and her own fear.
After walking inward for the better part of an hour, Winterwoods finally approached the rear of the cave. It was dimly lit by a broken item sitting upon what appeared to be a throne of ice. As she stepped closer, she could see that the glowing items were broken shards of metal. They pulsed slightly, radiating with a magical energy.
“Is this what has been causing all of this craziness?” Winterwood’s whispers echoed softly in the cavern. She reached her hoof out to touch the metal, but stopped just short of it. The sound of dripping had become prominent in the cave. She hadn’t noticed this before, but it sent a shudder down her spine. She lowered her hoof and flattened her ears back. She didn’t know what these things were, but she didn't need to be a unicorn to feel that they held onto something evil.
Winterwoods couldn’t stand to look at the scraps any longer. Discomfort rattled through her body and she decided that whatever it was these shards were hiding, it deserved to stay in this cave. She turned her back to the shards and made her way to the exit. Had there not been the slightest sound, she’d have kept going. But her ears betrayed her, flicking towards a gentle vibration in the air. It was a soft sound, like fabric brushing the floor, or drapes being pulled aside. Despite herself she cringed, anticipating the worst.
The sound of the dripping intensified until Winterwoods could swear it was beating painfully down within her head. A presence more cold than the ice that surrounded her pressed against her back. Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Winterwoods turned. Sure enough, the creature stood right in front of her. But its presence, which was bad enough, wasn’t what frightened her the most: It had the shards. They were pieced together into what appeared to be a makeshift helmet, hiding where there should have been a face.
The new adornment made it's long, unnatural neck seem strange, and almost crooked in appearance. In a slow, fluid movement, it lowered its empty head even closer to her own, until she could swear it was eye to eye with her, its cold nothingness touching her on the lips. The sound of dripping intensified still until she could swear that, ever so faintly, something within the inky darkness of the creature whispered.
“Don’t you want to play?” it said in a voice so faint, that it wasn’t so much heard as it was felt. It chilled Winterwoods until she feared her heart would genuinely stop. Her eyes rolled back and she fainted. As her consciousness slipped, she was yet again barraged by the angry voice, though this time it spoke alone.
“I only wished you to understand. I only wished to be loved as you were loved… I only wished. I only wished to be more like you. But, I only wished. I am not like you. And perhaps this is all my fault for that reason, but I suppose that’s old news now. You made sure of that. You had been my hero once, you know… I had adored you. You are no hero though. You're just an old fool, selfish and callous to her very bitter core. But I, I am a villain. I am a monster. And I’m not sorry, not anymore. Because you, you absolutely disgust me. Because you made me what I am. You made me who I am.” The voice whispered emptily.
“I did what I did then because I was angry, because I was sad… because I just didn’t want to be alone anymore. The worst part for you though, and perhaps for me, is that after all this, after all these years of torment, after I lost my battle against you, after my short reign in the world was done and after my due punishment has been served, is that I. Still. Won't. Be. Sorry. And every year that passes hence, I still won’t be. I'll do what we know I'll do, because deep down, we both know you deserve it... And the very next chance I get, I will act. That is a promise, oh you maker of hardened hearts. Remember that whenever you think of me. I’ll be awaiting my chance. And when I get it, you will suffer for the pain you’ve caused me.”
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out; and was long before dawn she guessed. Her room was silent and still.
“What... Is... All... This?” Winterwoods moaned, getting up. She moved to the window once again. The raven was sitting at the end of the bed, with his head cocked to one side. “Why is this happening here? Why is this happening to us? Who is causing all this?!” she shouted at the window.
“Shhh! Listen!” the raven hacked. Winterwoods would have thrown something at him had she not then heard what he meant. Somewhere a soft cry could be heard. Winterwoods peered out the window and saw nothing. The raven flew to her back, and joined her search out the window.
“It's coming from outside... Let's go look.” Winterwoods whispered. As softly as she could, she made her way down the stairs and cracked open the front door. She saw nothing unusual. Opening the door wider, she poked her head out. Still nothing extraordinary could be seen, though the cries were by far more audible. “Hmmm.” Sneaking to the corner of her house, she peered around her bushes to her rose garden.
Mouth agape, Winterwoods stared in wonder at what she saw.
There was an orb of light illuminating the garden. It pulsed softly, and wavered as the cries resounded from its core. Slowly, Winterwoods approached the orb. It was as big around as her head, and it floated softly about her prized roses.
“What is that thing?” Winterwoods asked.
The raven hopped from her back and onto her head, examining the little ball of light. “I think it might be a wisp. If it’s here, it is for a reason. My mother would say that wisps came to those in need.” Winterwoods chanced a few steps closer.
“Is there something you’re here to show me?” As she spoke the wisp steadied itself, and Winterwoods felt as though it was looking directly at her. The weeping sounds began again, but this time it no longer looped the sorrowful wails.
“Oh my dear sister… How can I have been so blind?” the ball cried. “How can I have done this to you? Why? Why couldn’t I see past my own pride?! You suffered so much by my own hoof, this punishment should be mine, not yours! My dear, sweet sister, I’m so, so sorry! I regret every moment I turned you away! I regret belittling your ideas, your thoughts, your precious heart!” The ball bobbed in the air as the voice became more sorrowful.
“If I could give up everything to make things right, I would. If I could take on your suffering, and lift it from your heart, I wouldn’t think twice. I beg you, please forgive me. Every year to come, you have my sorrow, you will hear my pleas for forgiveness though I know I don’t deserve it. Every moment of every day of every year, I will be sending my love to you. The love you shouldn’t have had to beg for only to never receive.” The orb began to fade as the words echoed through the garden. "Dearest sister, do not let my foolish ego and your anger consume you. Please, let me help you!"
“What on earth was that supposed to mean?” Winterwoods blinked. “How was that supposed to help?” She turned to the raven, her eyes begging for answers.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.” The raven cawed. “Perhaps the only way to find out is to go back to the woods.” With a shudder, Winterwoods turned towards the treeline.
“Ugh.” She groaned. But with a sigh, she began walking towards the forest once again. The raven returned to the wood block to wait, shouting encouragement from afar. She ignored him though; no amount of encouragement would help when a pony doesn't even know what they're about to do. As she approached the forest, she could see that the trees were fewer in number than before. She walked the path into the woods and the further she travelled, the more regimented the trees became. Soon the trees were in perfect rows, grim sentinels that seemed to stare as she was drawn deeper and deeper into the heart of the grove.
The path ended shortly this time, opening itself up into a clearing. The fog had lifted and there was barely even a low mist in the clearing. Winterwoods could see to the far end of the clearing. There were some small structures not too far up ahead, and a lone figure amidst them. The place felt so quiet and so tense that Winterwoods could hear the beat of her heart and the soft sounds of the mist swirling against the grass.
The closer she got, Winterwoods became aware that she was approaching a large graveyard. The figure stood in the center, hunched and shaking. She could hear soft cries emerging from the dark figure. The ground became frosty as she approached it. As she passed them by, she read the tombstones. Rather than names, there were dates marked on every one. A single date, as though marking important events.
The graveyard was so calm and quiet, every step she took on the frosted grass pounded down like it weighed a ton, and every breath she took resounded like a storm blowing by. After walking for what felt like ages, she reached the figure. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that this was the ‘monster’ that had been tormenting her throughout this night.
Its soft cries were echos of the orb she’d seen not long before, and teardrops fell to the ground from the creature’s empty face. A brief moment of inspiration overwhelmed Winterwoods, and she came to the realization that this creature manifested itself based upon the events that lay at rest in the graveyard. To her own surprise, and disgust, Winterwoods mustered up the strength to come closer to the thing. She gently touched its shoulder and spoke.
“Do you need someone to help you?” she asked. The creature went stiff and turned towards her, the dripping sound ebbing into the corners of her hearing. “Stop... I’m not afraid of you anymore. I've come too far to be turned back this time.” Winterwoods said plainly. “I don’t know what you are, or who you were, but I will help you if you let me… Please, let me help you.” She lowered her hoof from its shoulder and it stood very still for a long time. The dripping faded completely, and the figure tilted its head, as though bewildered.
It raised a single foreleg and pointed beyond where it stood at the head of the graveyard. With an understanding nod, Winterwoods followed the path. As she progressed, the tombstones grew bigger and more elaborate, until they became as a forest of evenly spaced trees carved from stone, each one larger and grander than the last. The path became cobbled, the rustle of soft grass beneath her giving way to the sharp clack of hooves on stone. It opened up into a grove, in the center of which grew a single flower the likes of which Winterwoods had never seen before.
She approached the flower, and observed with wonder its mysterious aura. It looked like a hybrid between a rose and a lily. It was pale blue, right down to the leaves and stem, and it grew in a single flower up from the ground. Little orbs of light surrounded it in a magical white glow. To her sensitive nose, Winterwoods knew immediately that this was the source of the sweet scent that first tantalized her, and drew her into leaving her home. Around the flower was an arrangement of three large stones, each one carefully engraved.
The first read:
“Behold the Heart of Sorrow, the rarest flower to ever bloom. When a pony has suffered greatly, it plants the seed of this precious bud. It exists only within this realm between sleeping and awake, and it grows for the sole purpose that the pony who has suffered so may be granted peace, at last.”
The second read:
“You who have reached this place, have a heart close in spirit to the sufferer. You are connected to them through the magic that binds all things together. If you wish, you may pick this flower. But should you pluck this bud, do so knowing that you will take on all the pain that the sufferer has carried.”
The third read:
“Should you do this, your life will change. You will know this pony better than any other. For a few moments, you will carry the weight of their pain. It will then be lifted from you both. That is the true sacrificial gift of the heart.”
Winterwoods stared down at the flower, and glanced back up to the stones. Her tired eyes settled again on the beautiful flower. With a single tear rolling down her cheek, she knelt and gently gripped the stem and pulled. The flower pulled up with ease and glowed even brighter as Winterwoods rose back onto her feet.
The magical aura around the flower pulsed and grew. It lifted itself from her grasp, and brought Winterwoods floating up alongside it. She flailed in the air and squirmed to be put back down, but the flower had her completely in its grasp. She was lifted more than ten feet in the air before the flower grew intensely bright. The last thing she heard was the voice she remembered raging many times before, but it was calmed and sorrowful.
"Please forgive me." it whispered.
In the distance, the creature watched as the pony was raised into the air. Motionless it stood as the lone watcher while the flower darted suddenly through the air and pierced through the pony’s heart. Her scream and a last pulse of magic immersed the wood in light, the monster faded, the metal helmet evaporating in a scream of steam, and all the creatures of the deep wood awoke right as the dawn broke out across the land.
Winterwoods jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very dark out, and was long before dawn she guessed. Her room was silent and still… But then the door opened, showering a bright light into the room. Winterwoods shielded her eyes.
“Ah! Thank goodness you’re awake!” came a gentle male voice. The sound of hoofsteps trotting on the floor perked Winterwood’s ears up. “We weren’t sure if you were ever going to wake up! Thank Celestia you’re with us again.” The voice cheered on and suddenly the room was filled with light. “There, with these curtains open, you should be able to see. Oops! Sorry if it’s a little bright just yet.”
Winterwoods blinked and rubbed her eyes as they adjusted, taking in her surroundings. This wasn’t her room. It was a hospital room. There were flowers and cards and small gifts on a table beside the bed she lay on, and the chipper face of a doctor smiled down at her.
“Wha-what happened?” she asked.
“I don’t rightly know. Nopony does exactly. An old farmer and his wife brought you in when they found you alongside a road. Said a raven, of all things, harassed them and took off with the good mare’s hat. They chased after it a short distance, and it led them right to you. Strange, to say the least.” The doctor explained and went about checking her blood pressure and a few other simple tests. “Your friends will be happy to know you’ve woken up. They stayed here with you for the first few days until work made them leave. Said they’d be back this afternoon though.”
“Wait, did you say days? How long was I asleep for?” Winterwoods gaped.
“You were out for about a week actually. Awful, fitful sleeping, like you were being attacked. We ran numerous tests, but we couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you. What exactly do you remember?” the doctor asked.
“Dreams, at least vaguely. Bad, bad dreams. Like they wouldn’t end.” Winterwoods lowered her eyes.
“Nothing about how you may have ended up this way? Or how you ended up on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere?” pressed the doctor.
“Nothing.” She whispered.
“Ah. Well, how about we get some food in you then? What matters is that you’re healthy and awake. We may keep you for a few more days for tests, but if you’re good by then, you’ll be on your way home!” The doctor comforted her and set about his work.
A few days later, Winterwoods was delivered back to her home. Her friends had taken care of her cottage while she was away, and had made sure she made it home safely. Turning to her home, she realized that, of all the things she never expected to be, she was tired. She made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, and stopped in her tracks when she saw her bed. It was neatly made, and her shawl and satchel were folded and resting on top. One blue leaf could be seen sticking out from the corner of the bag.
Heart in her throat, she stepped over to the bed and gently opened the satchel. She gasped softly as the mild scent hit her. Inside was the beautiful flower that had appeared so many times in her dreams. Memories flooded back as she lifted the budded flower out. A single tear dropped down her cheek as she examined the delicate bloom. It was exactly as she remembered it, right down to the stem tip stained red.
Too many memories rained on her mind to recount properly, and she struggled to process them as they came. Legs gone weak, Winterwoods dropped her rump to the floor and she laughed and wept openly. The torment she’d endured, every second a lifetime of anguish that was never hers to bear. For a week straight, she lived a nightmare that wasn't hers. Yet, a beautiful soul lived beneath the monster that pony had become, there was a poor sweet child underneath it all that never got the life she'd deserved. Even though it hurt relentlessly, Winterwoods knew that if it was to save the other pony, she’d never think twice to do it again.
Eight mornings earlier…
Princess Luna jolted awake with her heart pounding in her chest. Sitting up, she trembled in the darkness of her room, unsure of the questionable fear that pricked at every ounce of her body. Something was terribly wrong. It was still very light out; and was long before dusk, she guessed. Her room was silent and still… just the way she normally liked it. But then the door opened, showering more bright light into the room. Princess Luna shielded her eyes.
“Forgive my intrusion, your highness.” Her door guard apologized and bowed, blushing a little. His embarrassment was very apparent, despite Luna’s grogginess, and she could only presume it’s cause was from standing in her private bedchambers. “But I thought I heard you cry out, and it is my duty to ensure your safety.”
“It is alright, dear guard. It… it was just a bad dream. The Tantabus incident has left me a bit unnerved, perhaps,” she said distractedly. As the guard bowed to leave, she stopped him. “Starshine? Have the library readied for my arrival, if you would. I think I’ll be partaking in a study session this day.”
“As you wish, Princess. What would you have the librarians prepare for you?” The guard saluted.
“Everything they have on the history of Nightmare Moon. And ensure that they know to tell not a single soul of this,” she said darkly.
“Mi’Lady?” he questioned. “Nightmare Moon? Are you sure?”
“Very much so. Please run along now.” Luna rose from her bed and peered from her bedroom window. It’d been a great many years since she’d felt so… peaceful. And it was wrong.
“I was so angry. Everything that happened filled me evermore with rage and sorrow. I know that is no longer who I am, but it felt as real as the days when it happened… the Tantabus grew drunk on that power, and I more blind to that fact. That is how it managed to escape to begin with. And yet, every step of the way, it was met with this same pony. Why it visited her alone is beyond my knowledge, but it projected who I was at her: my rage, my fears, my grief, all onto this lone pony. She faced me at my worst every time… by her own choice. She encased herself willingly into my torment, like a time capsule of regret. But she bore through it until I could not feel the hate, the anger, or the sorrow for myself anymore. I cannot forget the fear on her face… I cannot forget what my Tantabus projected onto her. What it… what I… did to her.” Luna wiped a tear from her eye.
“I cannot forgive myself this one. Your student and her friends have done me good, and have helped me forgive myself of my past, but this? This is something different, this is fresh, and new. And I can never truly make it right. My selfishness caused pain to many ponies, but none so suffered through what she has. For me. If only I could find her…”
“That sounds like quite a vision, Luna.” Celestia furrowed her brow. Her sister had been brooding lately, and she finally found an opportunity to get to speak with her about it, but what she was told was not what she’d expected to hear. “Do you know who the pony was?” The carriage they were in rattled across the small cobbled road towards a fast approaching village, and was her only response for a while.
“No,” Luna finally replied. “Try as I may, it is near impossible to know personally every dreamer of Equestria. Even if I tried to seek out her dreams again, I’m uncertain I could. The only concrete thing I can remember is a peculiar scent. It was soft, and sweet like flowers, but sharp and cold as well... But her face, her form and voice elude me. Her dreams are much deeper than most, a different tenor from anypony else’s.”
“How can that be possible? You’ve worked with dreams for millennia, and have never come across dreams as such. At least not that you’ve mentioned.” Celestia’s look of concern intensified as Luna again paused.
“I… I am honestly unsure. I’ve never encountered anything like it before. But there is something more, sister. Whatever this pony did, she removed the last shards left of emotions and ill intent of my time as Nightmare Moon from my heart. I am freed of the internal prison I built myself. All those fears and emotions buried for a thousand years, they’re gone," she explained. "I haven’t felt this good, and yet ironically so horrible, in as long as my memory serves me. And I’ll never be able to thank her for what she may not even know she’s done!” The two sisters frowned, Celestia hugging her distraught younger sister closely as the conversation went quiet for a long time. “I’m glad you convinced me to get out of the castle, sister.” Luna suddenly chirped as she shifted and peered out the carriage’s window. They’d reached the town’s entrance.
“You seemed like you needed some time away.” Celestia smiled graciously, as always. “With the Western Trade Fair open, I figured it a fine opportunity to get out into the fresh air, and maybe even sneak away to do some shopping, like we used to as fillies.” Luna grinned excitedly in agreement, and sniffed at the smell of fresh pies in the air. The carriage soon came to a stop, and the Princesses could hear the announcement of their arrival being belted out over the crowds, to the uproarious cheers of the attendees.
The carriage door was opened gently, and their guards bowed on either side of the carriage door. Celestia emerged first, and Luna followed, making a point to make every step with the poise and grace befitting of a Princess. The cheers seemed as though they’d never end, and Luna’s leg soon grew tired from waving for so long as they passed through the crowd. They were led to the place of honor where two grand seats awaited them.
They were required to sit there for the opening ceremonies, and to judge any disputes, much like at the Traders Exchange at the Rainbow Falls. Luckily enough, the opening ceremonies were relatively short, as ponies were ready to shop and sell. As soon as the formalities were completed and the crowd dispersed, Luna excused herself and her sister in the hopes of having some time to browse the stalls as well.
They passed many things, from hoof carved furniture, books, textiles, artworks and pottery, food, jewelry, rare foliage, a petting zoo and assorted kinds of toys for the little ones. There were so many things that caught the Princess' eyes. Hours were spent browsing the numerous stalls and buying things for themselves or for each other; no disputes were made known to them as the morning turned to afternoon and waned into evening, which they both took as a good sign. As the day drew to a close, Celestia and Luna seated themselves at one of the designated rest areas for a break.
“Are you hungry Luna?” Celestia asked as her own stomach gurgled. She blushed and giggled a little at herself.
“I could certainly eat at this point.” Luna chuckled.
“I’ll ask a servant to set us up a meal.” Rising to her feet, Celestia started off towards her destination.
“I think I’ll await you here.” The younger Princess sighed happily. “It is peaceful beneath the shade of these trees.” With a nod, Celestia went on to procure their meal. Luna watched as her sister left. For the first time in days she felt relatively peaceful, and she was happy. Closing her eyes, she breathed the moment in, and froze. Wafting through the air was a familiar scent. It was sweet, and minty. Her eyes shot open as she caught the smell again coming from a little blue pegasus mare passing by. Jumping to her hooves, Luna quickly meandered over to the pony, who appeared to be packing up her stall for the day.
“How could it be?! The flower! Is it here?” Luna breathed. “Halt! Citizen, please, I must ask you an urgent question.” Luna asked as she reached the stall. The little mare was startled, and dropped a glass candle holder, shattering it at Luna’s feet.
“Oh! Oh dear!” the mare gasped. She curtsied shyly to her Princess and tried to brush the broken pieces of glass together. “I-I’m so s-sorry Princess! I truly hope that you weren’t intending to buy that.”
“Forgive me, dear citizen, I did not mean to startle you.” Luna pursed her lips in embarrassment at the accident she’d caused. “Allow me to help.” Using her magic, Luna lifted all the little pieces onto the counter in a neat pile and smiled apologetically. “I hope it was not expensive. I can compensate you if it was.”
“Oh no, no. It wasn’t expensive, it was just a cheap glass something I had wanted to get rid of anyway. It was more a part of my display than anything. I have more at home as it were," the mare said sheepishly. "My name is Peekaboo, your Highness. You're more than welcome to call me by name, much less formal than Citizen,” assured the mare sweetly. “But is there something I can do for you, Princess? You seem kind of anxious.”
“Ah, yes.” Luna blushed. She'd almost forgotten. “I have a question of some urgency to me. You passed me by earlier, and drifting from one of your bags was the most wonderful smell. I must know what it was.”
The mare blinked and was thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I sell a lot of fragrant things, mostly homemade foodstuffs, but most of those are all tightly sealed in jars. So I’m assuming that’s not what you meant. It was probably these candles I brought to sell for my friend.” Peekaboo opened one of the bags and placed a pale blue candle upon the table. “I bought probably like 50 of these things for myself, they just smell so good! Said she made them from the oil of a flower she’d found in the woods.” Luna beamed when the candle was produced.
“Peekaboo, you simply must take me to see your friend. My dear, I have a huge debt to repay to both of you.”
