Twilight and Friends visit an old house to celebrate a birthday with deadly results.
As far as great ideas go, Twilight stumbled across the best one of all - throwing Pinkie Pie a shocking, frightening horror birthday surprise party! But as the six friends walk into the old dilapidated house on the hill, and the moon rises high above them, pranks turn sour and tempers boil, and the six friends find out that perhaps, the best ideas might not be so great after all. As the gang succumb to the dark horrors of the house and fall to machinations of their own design, Equestria gains another sordid legend to tell.
Like the open jaws of a predator as it bares its teeth of splinters and brass both as a warning and invitation do its doors both starkly remain open.
But yet no being, Pony or other not Gryphon, not Mule, not loathsome Creature, dare they to trouble themselves with its soil.
And there on the rising of the full moon does blossom the Mist with blood in its eyes rolling in from sources unknown, unseen.
For any who passes the tongue, the teeth accords in viscera, fosters on tripe shall seek their way in, only to falter– cracks in the mind is where they shall linger
Until the sun's dawn cuts forth without sound or when task is done without obstruction will the day be free without encumbrance
And there upon the hill rested the house.
Twilight Sparkle closed the book, a small cloud of dust rising above it and fading away, scattering into the sunlight that beamed down through the windows of her library. There they danced, joyous and merry within the warmth and comfort of the light, but disappeared as they left the narrow path of companionship that the beam had left for them.
Rainbow Dash could not help but follow a stray bit of fluff with her eyes; it helped take her mind off other considerations.
And Twilight smiled, facing the four ponies surrounding her while she read from the old tome. Mixed expressions met her gaze, but that particular mix of confidence and stubbornness had convinced Twilight that what she had was a good idea, and nothing was about to change her objectivity.
Her friends seemed to realise that too, and to this end no argument was given.
"So, that's what's written about the house," Twilight said, nodding and motioning toward the book. It was an old thing, crumpled and crinkled; a leather-bound cover stained with patches of brown wrapped itself around the yellowing pages, keeping them safe from harm throughout the many years. It was a book of local legends and lore, a silly old thing passed around from hoof to hoof simply because no one had wanted to keep it, and there it now sat in its latest home in the Ponyville library.
It spoke of things in and around Ponyville from the years gone by – from the magic of the fields beyond to the canyons of deep; from the heights of the clouds to the bounding mountains of yore. It spoke of flora and fauna and magnificent sights, and it spoke of buildings of curious nature.
"You sure about this, Twi?" Applejack asked with a tinge of caution, tapping her hoof against the side of her head. "Nothing you read sounded pleasant or fun in any way."
"Oh, it's not meant to be pleasant in that way," Twilight explained. "I was thinking, every year we just throw the same old party over and over, and I thought, why not try something different this time? Well, she said it best that one time – sometimes it's fun to be scared. So I thought, why not throw it in an old fashioned haunted house, and give her a special birthday surprise while we're at it?"
"H…haunted?" squeaked Fluttershy.
"It's not really haunted," Twilight continued. "It's just a creepy old house!"
"You know the old tales, Twilight," Dash argued. "It's always the same. Five ponies walk into a weird house or shack or cabin and they all die, Twilight, they all die!"
"Then we'll be just fine!"
"What do you even mean by that?"
"Well, there's six of us, aren't there?" Twilight grinned.
Rainbow Dash just let her mouth hang open.
"You know, Dash, I didn't peg you for one to be scared of old legends and mythology… Besides, I already scoped the place out, it's just this small mansion that lies on the Northern edge of the Everfree Forest. If anything, it's the forest that stems the stories, not the house itself. Although why anypony would want to build a house so near to the forest is really beyond me…"
Three sets of eyes flicked instinctively to Fluttershy, who just stood there silently in slight embarrassment.
"Well, I can't think of a reason," Twilight finished, looking back towards the group. "It's an hour's walk out of Ponyville, and we can have a picnic and stay the night. I'll set up some spells to ensure we'll be safe, and we've done plenty of worse things before…"
"But… but why something so ghastly so early in the year, Twilight? It's nowhere near nightmare night." Rarity voiced her concerns.
"Well, she'll be unlikely to expect it then, won't she?"
"Why this house?" Dash spoke up again.
"Well… I don't really have a reason," Twilight admitted. "Honestly, I went to take a look at the place out of curiosity, and while I was there, the idea just came into my head. It just seemed… perfect."
"Alright, alright." Applejack surrendered. "We get it. Well, maybe it'll be fun, who knows? Can't hurt to give it a try."
"Glad you said that, Applejack." Twilight nodded. "Because I'll need you to find a way to convince Pinkie Pie to go out there."
"Wait, why me?"
"Because everypony else has their own jobs!"
A round of moans escaped the lips of the other ponies. Even Fluttershy added to the discontent with a soft murmur of her own.
"We're going to prank her, and prank her good," said Twilight. "Rarity, you'll need to make a costume. A scary monster costume. Rainbow Dash, you'll need to practice your silent flying! You're going to have to move around in the dark a bit, so prepare for that, I guess. And Fluttershy? I have something for you too. It won't be any trouble, I'm sure."
"And what are you doing, dear?" Rarity asked, indignant that she had the weightiest of the work.
"Why," Twilight said with a smile. "I'm putting it all together, aren't I?"
SIX Walk IN
It was some days later, and Pinkie Pie was heading up the excursion that trudged down the road to the house. She bounced along, as she usually did whenever she went anywhere, with a song in her throat and the wind brushing against her mane. She was always head of the pack – her enthusiasm for any activity was expressed in action and spirit.
The others trailed along, bags on their backs, appreciating the scenery that led there. Despite being a fairly disused road that led toward one of the more dangerous locations in all Equestria, the path was still appreciable for its simple, pleasant beauty.
It was the way the leaves all pulled and pushed each other, swaying arm in arm to form a canopy of dancing drops of maple and gold, scattering bits of sun like rain down upon the forest floor. The soil was crunchy underhoof; a pleasant buoyancy gave spring to everyone's step, intentional or not. And there was the melody of silence that engulfed the area – the feeling of being alone in a big empty space with nothing but your friends, the rustling of the trees, and a couple of crickets who caught a ride along somewhere way back when.
"How'd you manage to convince her?" Twilight whispered to Applejack, the two of them walking side by side at the rear of the convoy.
"Well, it weren't easy, I tell you what," Applejack said, rolling her eyes.
"Bet it wasn't."
"First I asked her if she wanted to join us for a trip up North, and she asked me 'where', and I didn't have an answer so I dropped that. Then I thought of somethin', saying there was this fair that was gonna open up and maybe we should all go see, but she had this… this schedule of all the fairs opening everywhere across Equestria, and she checked it and it weren't on there, and that was the darndest thing, for truth."
Twilight had to stifle a chuckle.
"I mean, who in tarnation makes a schedule for that sorta thing? So that was a dead end. And then I said, we're all having a picnic, and then she was like, oh, yeah, we should go to the waterfall, that'd be a great place, and I said no, this place would be better, and she said no, I want the waterfall, and then it got a bit messy, and then I tried like eight other things and finally I got it."
"What did you say in the end?"
"I told her we were throwing her a surprise birthday party so come along and just pretend like I didn't say nothin'."
"Applejack!" Twilight exclaimed suddenly, temporarily attracting the curious looks of Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, who were just up ahead. "Um… Applejack. What?"
"Well… I mean… in the end she told me she already knew about the surprise party and she was just playin' with me from the start. So, no harm, no foul, I guess?"
"Nngh." Twilight let out a soft sigh. "Yeah, I suppose so. Still, we had a plan, you know? Everything was supposed to go according to it."
"Ain't such a thing as perfection, sweetie," Applejack said. "I mean, I'm sorry I let the cat out an' all, but sometimes you just gotta be flexible and let things go, you know? I know it ain't like you, but…"
"Yeah, I know, Applejack. It's just that… you know."
"I know, Twi. But it'll all work out in the end. She doesn't know about the prankin' bits and maybe she'll expect it less now, because she thinks we're just gonna surprise her with the party announcements and all."
"I guess so." Twilight sighed again. "I just really want this to be perfect, you know? Well, either way, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get upset."
"You call that upset? Try waking Bloom up for school every mornin'."
"I suppose you're rig– hey, we're here."
Twilight's interjection came at a sudden surprise, as interjections normally do. The house sat there, dormant, in the middle of a small clearing. Twilight didn't notice it in the horizon until she was close enough to take a full view, but the others certainly did; they had stopped somewhere along the road to watch the house as it simply existed, as if being there was enough to inspire awe.
Even Pinkie Pie had stopped bouncing to take in a breath at the domicile’s presence.
Only Twilight remained calm and centered, enjoying her companion's reactions. She was, of course, the only one of the group who had been there before, even if it was just for a minute or two.
To the group's left, the path led onward to a misty part of the woods where the trees turned sinister and the sky grew darker – clearly the way to the Everfree itself.
But as it was, the house stood on the top of a small mound; a pit stop on the road to danger. It perched at the tip of a very small hill, perfectly poised to survey all who approached with a sense of regal disregard.
A gentle slope upwards ran a scratch of dirt past what must have once been a garden at one point; the weeds grew in rows and in organized fashion, and lines where even the grass didn't grow showed the soil to be too weak to carry anymore life. These plots were situated in uneven patches around the winding path, but all of them not too far away from the road itself.
The road, in turn, led to a raised patio that was caked in faded and crumbling paint so well-tuned to the condition of the rest of the house that it almost looked like it was done that way on purpose. But cracked, dusty shingles and worn wooden columns were what kept the house alive, and despite its worn appearance, it showed no sign of collapse. Not a creak or a groan did the house make, even when the wind picked up and pressed harshly against its side, nor when the group of friends made their way onto the floorboards to take a closer look.
Further glances observed the true size of the house, which was more massive than one would have picked up from the walk along the path. It was of two storeys, that was clear, but could easily hold a great number of rooms on each floor. Surely it must have been constructed by somepony very rich, or very bored.
The windows were frosted by time itself, and no amount of cleaning would get it to the level of transparency that it once held at birth. Holes and cracks gave a new meaning to looking through the glass, and beyond the stained panes was a darkness that couldn't be reached by the outdoor light, so no further effort was made to peer in.
And there was no reason to anyway, for the grand double doors were hanging wide open, welcoming the group in as they crawled along the outside of the house, like insects inspecting a dropped piece of candy.
"That's… odd," Twilight said, motioning toward the entryway, the door frame bordered by a set of metal lanterns. They hung stiffly on chains that could not sway due to the rust that clasped them in sleep eternal.
"What is?" Applejack asked.
"When I came here just last week, the doors weren't open. But they're… well, it's just like the book said."
"I told you, I told you it was haunted!" Rainbow Dash cried out, backing away from the walls.
A silence crept through the group, as nervous eyes jumped from face to face, hoping to get some affirmation of any kind.
"Mm… Bwahahaha!" Twilight burst out suddenly, laughing and pointing at Rainbow with a bounding leg. "Gotcha!"
"Wh…what?" Rainbow stammered.
"I opened the door when I got here the first time, sillies. There is no such thing as ghosts or curses! I told you!" Twilight grinned.
Tension left as the ponies breathed sighs of relief, especially from Pinkie who joined in with the laughter.
"She got you good!" Pinkie chortled along, nudging Rainbow in the flank. "That was a really good one, Twi!"
"W…what are you laughing at? You weren't even around when we read the book! You don't even know what Twilight's talking about!" Rainbow sputtered.
"Oh, I know. But I know a good one when I hear one! And that's a good one!"
"Right." Rainbow huffed, snorting through her nose.
"So, the house is haunted, eh? I love haunted houses!" Pinkie chattered as she flew through the entryway. "They're like regular houses, but with ghosties! Anyway, I think I sang about something like this before! Just laugh and everything will be okie dokie lokie!"
And with confidence once again at the prime, Pinkie bounded in through the portal to darkness, leading the way no matter what might lay ahead.
"Girls, get in here." Her voice came from the foyer, inviting her friends to join her within. And one by one, they stepped through, Twilight closing the door behind her.
And the echo.
The echo of heavy wood crashing against heavy wood; like an angry shout did the doors slam close, the brass handle and intricately carved lock frame rattling as the mechanisms that held the door in place did their duties.
And when the echo died, were the six left in the grand foyer of the house on the hill.
Marble and gold were the ingredients to this recipe, and the exterior of the house certainly didn’t leave indication of its true majesty. While the outer shell fought back against the years and elements, the belly of the beast was free to live unchecked. While it remained, all these years, unkempt and cold, everything was preserved as how its absent owner intended.
Even the obligatory layer of dust that coated everything was barely there, and presumably, was only present now due to the main doors having been opened a few days ago. Had Twilight not cast the room to the elements, things might have been as well maintained as a stone in an air-tight jar.
Whoever built this place certainly loved circles – there were circles in motifs, filigrees, designs and carvings. Interlinked rings and solitary hoops danced upon the edges of balustrades and on the bases of lamps, across the stone and marble floors in reds and creams, and interwove themselves into the fabric of sofas.
One large circle was cut out of the wall across from where they were standing – a round fireplace, on closer inspection, judging by the remnants of ashes and bits of wood, undisturbed by a wind that could not get to it. Next to this was another hole, one that led to dark places beyond.
To the far left and right of the ornate grill that bordered the fireplace was a pair of curving, winding staircases that led from the floor they were on to the floor just above. The two of them together creating yet another example of function in form; were they to be pushed together end to end, a perfect loop would they form, one in which a pony would be stuck, forever walking up and down and never reaching the end.
But not the lavish Victorian designs, nor the paintings that spotted the walls, nor the Ursa-skin rug that lay helpless in front of the fireplace gave a clue to any of the six about the identity of the one who built the house, or why he had decided to leave, if the decision was even his to make at all.
A dull glow pulsed from the smudged windows. Standing in the room, it was as if they were gazing at everything through a hazy fog, but it was enough to just barely make out the room, and any additional light would be well appreciated.
Twilight obliged the silent request, a small orb of light now twirling around the tip of her horn.
“Electric lamps,” Applejack noted, spotting a pair of them on a table. “Guess this place isn’t that old after all.”
“But there were sconces outside, dear,” Rarity pointed out, always one to pay attention to small detail. “Perhaps this place is constantly being refurbished?”
Twilight nudged a small heater in the corner with a hoof. It was a portable kind, something that barely warms up a single pony, let alone a room as large as this one. It looked remarkably out of place amongst the rest of the décor, a white island sticking out of a velvet sea.
“That’s… weird,” Rainbow muttered, joining her side and staring at the piece of equipment. It wasn’t plugged in – there was nothing to plug it into. It sat, innocently enough, pointing towards one of the corners; a dark space underneath one of the stairs. Somepony had left it to rest in a redundant position.
Almost as if to confirm the very question on Twilight’s mind, Applejack once again made an observation.
“These lamps ain’t plugged in,” she said, trailing the lamps' cords to an open end. “Ain’t nothin’ to plug 'em into, anyway. Don’t think this house is wired up.”
“Why… why would someone bring them and set them up and just leave them like that?” Fluttershy asked, raising her voice for the first time.
“I don’t know,” Twilight responded, looking up. The staircases led to a horseshoe-shaped balcony that looked down upon the foyer, and in the dim lighting she could just make out doors on either side and an opening in the back. Her eyes continued upward to a magnificent cast-iron chandelier hanging from above, and only when she realised that it was swinging by its own volition did the accompanying squeaking of metal against metal start to register in her head.
It was almost as if she had forgotten to pay attention to the things that she normally took for granted, but her eyes kept on, trained on the object, as it moved to and fro lazily.
The others caught her and looked up as well.
"Whoa," Rainbow said, watching it move. "Why's it swinging?"
"Door must have made a gust or somethin'," Applejack guessed.
"Isn't that thing a bit… heavy to be blown around by a small gust?" Rainbow asked a follow-up question, looking Applejack in the eyes, who gave a small shrug as a reply.
“Look… Candles,” Twilight muttered, still staring up, her friends zoning in at where she was looking shortly after. “That chandelier was made for candles. You can see the little dishes that were made to hold them. They probably installed that when the house was made, so that would be a more accurate gauge of when the house was built.”
“A terribly long time ago, then,” Rarity commented.
“There’s a kitchen here,” Dash said, passing by the large recliners in the middle of the room and nudging open a door to the right. A peek inside was all it took, despite the low lighting conditions. There were just those shapes about a kitchen – shadows and silhouettes – that made it remarkably unmistakable.
“Hallway here.” Applejack peered down the opening that lay to the right of the fireplace, along the back wall. “Bedrooms, probably. And toilets. I hope. They used toilets back then, right?”
“Yes, of course they did,” Twilight replied. “But I can’t say if there’ll be running water or not.”
Fluttershy stayed quiet, not daring to approach any of the doors or move away from any of her friends, and as such took comfort in inspecting the furniture with Twilight.
“This looks like a study or a parlour of some kind,” Rarity said, trying the final door on the left. “I see a lot of books and tables of sorts. And this might be quite cliché, but there is in fact a large spinning globe in the corner. One of those old ones that you always see in movies of the period.”
“I’ve always wanted one of those,” Twilight said offhandedly, standing firm in the very middle of the room.
“It’s very tacky,” Rarity said.
It was about then when, in the silence and the gloom, did they notice that there was silence.
A specific silence.
And while this was not something that was peculiar in general, it was peculiar due to the fact that from the time they had entered, one voice had failed to speak.
One voice resounded its wordless contribution.
One voice lingered in the dark.
“Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked, turning back toward her. The normally jovial and curious pony hadn’t moved a step from the entrance. The last they heard was her voice beckoning them in, a jaunt through the door, and suddenly she was a statue, mute and stoic.
“Pinkie,” Fluttershy repeated, moving closer, with the sudden speed of alarm. “Pinkie, is everything alright?”
“Yes,” she answered, in her normal voice. “Yup! Just taking it all in. It’s absotively amazing, isn’t it?”
“You’ve been… quiet,” Fluttershy commented.
“Just enjoying the atmosphere,” Pinkie asserted, lowering her voice and giving Fluttershy a mute smile.
Any further questions were quickly brushed off, and in the end the rest of them came to figure that Pinkie’s odd behaviour was due to a mix of her awe and a little bit of genuine worry at being in such a creepy place. It was a sentiment that all of them shared, but none of them voiced. Even Twilight herself, stubborn as she was to see her plans through to fruition, had to admit that she felt a tinge of unease about the house.
And no one could blame Pinkie. No one could without criticizing themselves as well.
But it was time for the plan to be put into place, and a little nod to Applejack set her off down the first floor hallway with Pinkie under the pretence of 'more explorin'', leaving Twilight, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Rarity alone in the foyer to set up.
Twilight led them up the stairs in an effort to get a bit more privacy.
Their quick look around the second floor showed the doors on left and right sides of the landing led to bedrooms; guest rooms by the looks of it. Each was huge and fashioned to such degree to show off nothing but lavish indulgence, and clearly were made to expound the wealth of the house’s owner.
The dark spot in the back was another corridor, leading off to even more rooms of various types.
It was quickly decided that the room on the right would be where Rarity would get into costume. She had brought the monster suit along with her in one of her saddlebags, hiding amongst party equipment and picnic food. Dash got into position at the very end of the hallway, crouching in the darkness.
Fluttershy hid in the room opposite Rarity’s, ready for her own part in this magnificent play.
And as two grumpy ponies exited the entryway next to the fireplace, Twilight rushed back down and started her act.
“Well, that was… helpful,” Applejack complained sarcastically, a frown on her face. “With the sun goin’ down it’s gettin’ we can’t see jack squat at all. Couple’a Earth ponies can’t do much without magic.”
“It was soooo spooky!” Pinkie chittered. It seemed a bit of her bubbly demeanour had returned, at least. “There were shadows and everything in the corners, and creaky noises and funny smells! And we found… we found…”
“What?” Twilight asked, an eyebrow raising.
“A toilet!” Pinkie beamed.
“Uh… yeah. We found a toilet. Water weren't on, as you figured. There was a buncha bedrooms too. Huge dinin' room, connected to the kitchen on the other side… Weren’t anythin’ much else, though.”
"Yeah, the rooms were funny though!" Pinkie said, elaborating with some hoof gestures. "They all looked like ponies had been in them, but there's nopony here but us!"
"Yeah." Applejack nodded.
"And there were things all over the place that were just funny, too! But not like in a 'ha-ha' funny kind of way, but more like a 'oh-my-goodness-why-is-that-there' kind of way! Like a stack of empty plates…"
"… buncha old empty saddlebags just lyin' there in the corner…"
"… oh! And that one thing with the thing…"
"… and a hat right in the middle of one of the beds," Applejack concluded. "Just regular things in funny places."
"Weird," Twilight said, partially to herself. "But anyway, like you said, it's getting dark really fast. Applejack, could you help me set up the lights and party stuff? Pinkie, the others are taking a look around upstairs. I think they went to the room on the right. Could you go let them know we're starting with dinner?"
"Sure!" Pinkie gave a little hop in place, hooves clinking on the hard marble floor, before she turned and trotted to the stairs happily. This was fun! I mean, it was nice that her friends were throwing her a party and all, but a halloween surprise birthday party? That was just double the pleasure.
Double the burden.
Double the bother.
Pinkie noticed her steps had slowed to a trudge as she pulled herself up each cliff of the staircase one by one. Behind her, the chatter of her friends went on, with Applejack asking 'where should I put this lantern?' and Twilight responding with 'Oh, just leave it next to that other one that's already there.'
She shut her eyes as she walked upward, a strange feeling interrupting her working mind. It was like trying to think through strawberry jelly – clear, yet distorted, and shrouded in an eerie shade of red. A strange shade of red that flickered in her mind once before, at the moment she stepped into the house.
Her eyes flicked back to life as she hit the top step.
"Door to the right!" She smiled, bounding to the varnished frame set in the wall.
The door edged open, surprisingly silent for something so old. It should have creaked. Don't doors in old houses always creak? Don't they always stick in certain places and have handles that wouldn't turn? This door felt far too inviting.
Darkness poured out suddenly from within, bulging from the depths and crushing the small swells of light that came from the bottom floor.
It pushed its way out and masked the upper landing. It ebbed like the flickering pulse of a fire.
It shadowed over Pinkie's face as she ducked her head in, pushing her eyes wider to capture the silhouettes and figures.
Blocks and blobs. Shapes and sizes. They all swirled back and forth, swaying on an invisible line, everything familiar but none recognized.
A glint from the dark caught the very edge of Pinkie's eye. A small shiny spark, something… no, a pair of things that were shiny enough to grasp at the tepid light from the hall and cast it back.
It danced and hovered around the furniture, it flew amongst the stars of dust, and it dragged itself closer, ever closer, to Pinkie.
She held her breath. Her joy, her fun, her defence, her compensation – her measures all disappeared in view of the thing that was lumbering towards her, ragged and hairy.
It had a long face – one that stretched, thin and lanky, to the floor, upon which were two yellow globes that must have been its eyes, sticking out at odd, uneven angles. Its body still wore, upon its back, a cloak of darkness, but its mammoth legs left trembling pounds upon the floor, and the scratching noises accompanying each step betrayed the presence of something sharp clawing its way into the wooden floorboards.
It was white and slimy, and ragged tufts of fuzz glinted when it passed through small streams of light.
But it was the eyes, the eyes that kept staring, unblinking, unwavering. The eyes with its yellow gaze that pierced through Pinkie's heart and stopped it for a bare moment.
She jerked her head out of the frame, pulling the door close with both front hooves, stumbling back in the process.
And there she sat, shuddering and breathing lightly for fear of attracting its attention, eyes affixed on the door, waiting for some noise to be made.
But nothing came.
The light from a single electrical lamp ebbed from downstairs.
There was no movement, no shadows. Just a lamp fighting back the darkness.
Not even her senses, the ones that warned of danger and impending events, alerted her in the way it normally did.
There was no movement at all.
She peered over the edge, scurrying on her rear to the balustrade and glancing between the bars.
No shadows were caused by no ponies.
She screamed.
Pinkie had never screamed before. Not in a day of her life did she give a bellow, a shriek, a call, an utterance of fear, a howl of displeasure, an outcry of pain.
She cried. She lamented. She interjected in discomfort and she yelped in minute shock. She did all these, but she never screamed.
She never knew fear. She laughed. She fought it away with friends and cheer.
But she screamed. A good, long scream, a noise that she didn't want to believe was coming from herself – a plea for help, a beg for safety – and she screamed the entire length of time that a pair of disembodied hooves dragged her from her place at the edge of the second floor, down the dark hallway and to the end where nothing shined, not even the eyes of monsters.
It had picked her up without a second's warning, and pulled her, yanking her so swiftly and harshly that she barely touched the floor. Down, down she went, spiralling down, into the pool of the corridor that lay behind her.
And when it had stopped; when her back had touched the wall at the end of the road; when she had felt the rug beneath her hooves and the air become still did her scream break apart into breaths, intermixed with utterances like a dog stuck in the rain.
All she saw was the glow at the end of the hall, and she scrabbled, rushing forward, her mind suddenly propelling her; her curly tufts of hair getting in her face and her mouth.
But she didn't care.
The light was at the end of the hall, and she rushed to it.
She didn't look behind when something grabbed her leg and pulled her back a little bit. All she did was clutch at the floor, slide on the rug, and bite her lower lip to cancel out her thoughts.
It released her again, and forward she moved. One step. Two, three and four. And again the darkness clutched at her, pulling her in the wrong direction.
If it had intentions to do anything else, it thankfully didn't make them known, as Pinkie finally burst out of the hall, panting and dizzy, rolling to the right just to avoid being in the mouth of the hallway. She bathed in the faint light and thanked her blessings that she escaped.
But… from what?
She didn't care. She had to move. The second of respite that came with the overwhelming feeling of reaching a checkpoint was overridden by her need to move. To find her friends. To get downstairs, maybe, and perhaps Twilight and Applejack would be there to help her and tell her things would be okay…
"Boooo…" came a weak voice from above her.
Pinkie blinked. Suddenly her fears melted away. Suddenly all unknowns became known. It took a second to realise it, but it took a while to finally register.
Pinkie's mind was still stuck in the place between shock and recognition; and although she had pieced it together the second she saw Fluttershy hovering over her with a look of embarrassment on her face, she didn't realise what it had meant until she let the absence of her pinkie sense bridge the gap.
The moment it began was when Pinkie frowned.
"I… I don't believe this," Pinkie said. She said it. She didn't sing it. She didn’t chitter or bubble. She said it.
"I'm… oh, I'm sorry," Fluttershy said, landing and hanging her head low. "You weren't supposed to see me…"
"See you? All this… all this was a joke?"
"Um… well…"
Pinkie shook her head, her eyes blazing fire. She turned away, brushing past Fluttershy with an intentional bump, and stormed down the stairs.
"Twilight! Applejack! Get out here!" she yelled, storming to the centre of the room where the picnic supplies and a big chocolate cake had been set up.
The cake read 'Happy Birthday Pinkie Pie'.
Pinkie stared at it.
Applejack emerged. One look at Pinkie made her sigh and cast her eyes away.
Twilight wasn't so relenting.
"Did you set this up?" Pinkie asked, no longer shouting but still furious. "The monster and the dragging. Did you set it up?"
"Yep," Twilight said, standing defiant. "Did we get you?"
"It wasn't funny," Pinkie stated. It was the truth, plain and simple. It was not funny.
"Well… it was supposed to be scary," Twilight said.
"I can't believe you did something like that!" Pinkie raised her voice.
"Hey, look now, it was just a prank, okay?" Twilight shot back, her eyebrows slanting to the middle. "You know? A joke!"
"Yeah, well, I'm still waiting for the joke to start!"
"Listen–" Applejack cut in.
From above the players all exited their stages: Rarity in her costume, Rainbow from the dark hallway, and Fluttershy who failed in her role.
"No, you listen," Pinkie cut back. "That… that wasn't funny. It was mean. It was frightening. It was scary. Too scary. You went too far, Twilight."
Twilight sighed. She rolled her eyes but gave way to social politics.
"Fine. I'm sorry," Twilight said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought it'd be fun. You know, usually you like this kind of stuff! What's wrong with you today?"
Pinkie's eyes glared crimson.
"Fine, let's just eat some cake, alright?" Twilight said.
"I'm not hungry," said Pinkie.
"Come on, Pinkie. I said I was sorry."
"And I said I'm not hungry. Go eat it yourself if you want. Don't follow me," Pinkie declared, already half-turned toward the door to the study.
The five stared as she left them, barring herself from the rest of the world.
"Twilight, that wasn't…" Applejack said, shattering the tension.
"Look, all I wanted to do was to give her a birthday scare. Is that such a bad thing?" Twilight frowned, a prick of pain appearing in her head.
"Well, no," Applejack said. "But–"
"I told you this was a bad idea," Rainbow called from above, walking out to the edge of the landing. The three of them on the upper floor looked weary and tired, and all of them suddenly found the heart to openly oppose the idea.
"That was rather harsh," Rarity agreed.
"I'm so… so sorry," Fluttershy lamented, to no one.
"I don't believe this!" Twilight stamped her hoof. "I go through all this trouble and this is the thanks I get?"
"Well, it didn't have to go that far, that's all we're sayin'," Applejack said, shaking her head, the voice of reason.
"No, it wouldn't have ended up like this if it had gone to plan. I'm sure of it! It was perfect. Perfect! You guys did it right, didn't you?"
Twilight's head jumped from Rarity, to Rainbow Dash, both of whom showed only expressions of mild contempt at the situation, but she froze on Fluttershy, who could not hide her guilt.
"What did you do?" Twilight yelled.
"Hey, come on," Rainbow Dash said.
"No, what did she do?" Twilight argued back. "I'm telling you, it would have gone perfectly if she didn't mess up! Your costume! You're not wearing your sheet! She saw you didn't she?"
Fluttershy nodded at the floor.
"Ease up, girl!" Applejack said forcefully, to Twilight.
"Twilight, it wasn't her fault," chimed in Rarity.
"It is! It's your fault, Fluttershy. You're useless, you know that? Why can't you do anything right?" Twilight spat venom up toward the Pegasus on the balcony, who was already on the verge of breaking out into one of her usual cries.
Almost instantly, words came from the other three; even from Rainbow who usually kept out of such things. Mostly it was calls of Twilight's name in that way and that tone.
Applejack, Rarity and Dash had plenty to say in defence of Fluttershy.
The whole yelling match ended with one clear voice ringing out – a stern, harsh one, which echoed into the room.
"… just a plumb mean thing to have said, Twilight. What's gotten into ya?" Applejack concluded the assault. "You know she didn't even want to do it! She only tried because you said to! She just didn't wanna let you down, is all. Can't you be a little understandin'?"
"Well, maybe she should have just said something from the start instead of blindly listening! Why would she do something she didn't want to do?"
"Aw, you know how she is, Twilight!" Applejack pleaded the case. "She just didn't wanna disappoint you and everypony else."
"Well, it sure ended in disappointment anyway, didn't it?" Twilight glared at Fluttershy.
"Enough is enough, Twilight!" Applejack yelled, intensifying her tone." Y'all need ta take a time out!"
"I… fine. Look, whatever, then." Twilight stormed away from the one berating her to the hall next to the fireplace, where they had been hiding earlier while Pinkie was being subjected to abject horrors on the second floor. "You know what? You guys have fun, then, your own way."
Twilight shook her head as she burst in, heading for the nearest bedroom, which she threw herself into, lighting it up with a burst of magic. Her head pounded. She was dizzy, hot, sweaty… and for some strange reason things seemed to be coated in a tinge of red ever since all the arguments started. A few blinks of her eyelids now, in this room, and it was gone.
But her anger lingered.
Out in the main room the rest left one by one – Rarity to the room to remove her costume, Dash back down the hall to 'look for something', and Applejack to the upstairs room with Fluttershy to comfort her. But it seemed that they were all excuses to take some time off; confusion hit the crowd and there was an understanding to let everypony have a moment to themselves to cool off before any partying could commence.
This gave Twilight the moments necessary to stew.
Stew and ponder, look and think.
The room she found herself in was so beautiful that it momentarily distracted her from her anger.
Bound books lined a solitary bookshelf in the corner, made of oak or maple, perhaps. Velvet curtains were drawn over a dirty window, but the gold lining and brass hanging bars made it almost better off closed. A luxurious carpet lay in the middle of the hardwood floor, and a simple desk was pressed against the wall, with a series of shelved nooks rising above it where pieces of paper and letters were stored neatly in their homes.
But what was certainly the centrepiece of the whole room was the bed.
The four-post bed with the silk screen.
The towering bed with a duvet made with the hours necessary to stitch together the fine circular patterns, along with some embossed pillows with the fancy filigree. It was ornate. It was regal.
And it drew the eye upward to the top of the bed, where above it balanced a stained glass spectacle – an image painted in crystal, a figure there to greet whomever slumbered underneath it. It perched itself on the bedposts in lieu of a normal wooden roof, and Twilight had to crane her neck sideways to realise that it was a representation of an old saint of early-day beliefs.
Twilight thought she recognized it as Jude, the Stallion of something or other.
But she tore her eyes away, and her voice flooded back in her head, repeating the words over and over until she spat it out vocally.
"It should have been perfect. Perfect!" She stormed about the room now, throwing a tantrum, letting it all out. Just one mistake. One small mistake and it fell apart. It was Fluttershy's fault. And now it wasn't perfect. Not perfect. Not perfect.
Twilight brushed against a lamp that stood on the bedside table, upsetting the shade. It was made to resemble a flower of screened silk that sat perched on a brass gas burner, the petals now turned to the side as if to capture the invisible sun.
She stared at it, turning around, looking at it framed up against the rest of the room. It was a mar. It was a spot, begging to be washed out. The immaculate nature of the room was suddenly destroyed by the upset shade, and Twilight, head full of spiders, found it only necessary to push it back to centre with a flick of her hoof.
There. How easy it is to fix things. How simple it is to restore the world to perfection. Why couldn't everything just go as planned? Why couldn't–
A sound behind her made her turn her attentions away from the lamp.
In her own small world, a sphere illuminated by the light of her horn, did the edge of all things blur into darkness. It was almost as if reality itself had stopped in a bubble around her, and as the room disappeared beyond the threshold of her magical light, so did it also remove itself from existence.
The things beyond lived as shadows, spirits, blurred images and wisps until once again called into Twilight's warmth, where sound and touch and smell and everything about them coalesced into familiarity.
There, on the very edge of this bubble, was a section of the bookshelf – just the corner, protruding into Twilight's view with offering of her favourite things in the world. Words and worlds, information and stories, all the things she loved and could trust in.
And one single book lay on the floor.
She walked over, bringing the full piece of furniture into view, extending her illumination such that it now encompassed the whole thing nicely. And soon she was in a world, alone with a bookshelf.
The book on the floor was an old one, one with a title in a language that Twilight wasn't familiar with. But it had fled from its jail on a shelf, and even without knowing the words, it wasn't hard for Twilight to realise where it went. There was a gap on the shelf; everything else was full from edge to edge.
The binding of the book too, matched its immediate neighbours, and the set was returned to completion as Twilight floated the book back in its spot.
It was only her scientifically-charged mind which caused her to ask 'I wonder what these books are' first, before considering the more obvious 'What made the book fall?'
But once she reached that question, she found she had no answer.
Nor did she have the time to think.
There was a sweeping from over her flank, from the corner where the lamp was, now just out of reach of her light. And she walked back with a faint hesitation, trotting carefully along the carpeted floor, as if that had any bearing on the situation at hand.
The lampshade was askew.
Twilight frowned.
This time, this time she moved it slowly into position, jiggling it in its place, letting the metal clasp fall over the ring in the base that was designed to hold it. And it fit, securely, as if they were made for each other, which was in fact the case.
But she kept a hoof on it – just for a while, just to make sure – and she backed off, slowly, step by step, holding her hoof out, ready to spring forward at any time to fix it again.
And after a moment all was well.
The peace of perfection.
Serenity.
Twilight crossed to the bookcase again to inspect it closer, but stopped short at the sight of what was lain bare before her. All the books were sticking out randomly; a half in, a quarter out, all across the board was it an uneven tempo of paper; edges where there shouldn't be and precociously perched tomes on the verge of leaping off.
She stared. Her chest gripped her heart. She knew there was something wrong about this situation. It was clear something was now intentionally striking her where it was softest, but she could not find the will to leave.
She had to do something about this. After all, it wasn't perfect.
And everything just had to be.
She ran a fevered hoof across the shelves, pushing everything back in as fast as she could. She performed with haste because of two distinct emotions that now ran through her head in a haze.
One was that of annoyance. It was stronger than ever, intensified and exaggerated by the throbbing in her head that grew over the seconds. In fact, they intermingled, and soon the pain was satiated by her efforts to right what was wrong.
The other was a numb fear, which was caused by one simple fact – she wanted to leave the room behind. She wanted to tear herself away from the bookshelf, but she was unable to. It was almost as if her needs had taken over her faculties. It wasn't that she was being controlled, or forced, or coerced; it was as if her senses had been pushed into a blind spot, such that anytime she focused on doing what was right, the idea simply vanished and stayed tottering in her peripheral vision, a little out of reach.
She could only let her worry grow as she performed the action that helped diminish the pain in her head – shoving the books in one by one until they were all flat against the shelf, like a hammer beating in nails.
It was barely done when the noise of cloth against fabric swept in from behind her, and she rushed on cue to the bed to straighten a bed sheet that had gotten crumpled in some mysterious manner.
Then it was to the carpet to flip over a corner that got turned up, and then back to the bookcase where yet another book had fallen in such a way that it was open and laying on its face.
And oh, it creased a page! Twilight hated that. She hated when that happened on any regular day, but now it was a burning fury – something that pinned her heart to her chest and made her squirm as she attempted to rub the fold out.
The book was shoved back into place. Was it the right slot? She didn't know. In fact, she didn't have the time to find out. There were more things to straighten behind her. The curtains which came undone, the chair which toppled over, the quills and scrolls that shot over the desk, and that lampshade, that dastardly, dastardly lampshade which refused to stay in place…
Twilight's eyelid twitched as a bead of sweat trickled down her defeated face, and in that little world of light she stood in, everything started falling apart, piece by piece.
"Listen, somethin' ain't right around here," Applejack said, pacing the bedroom.
It was a room similar to the others in make-up and decoration. The tone, the size; everything except for a glass ceiling over the bed, which was absent, and the fact that a battery-powered electric lamp illuminated everything up very nicely.
This room was unique in that there didn't seem to be anything out of place, unlike the rest of the house. Nothing from modern times, nor ill-placed objects were there to be found, and out of all the rooms this one was the most plain.
"I'm sorry," Fluttershy squeaked again. "I'm sorry for messing things up."
"Ain't your fault, Fluttershy."
"But… I was the only one who didn't do things as planned. Rarity did her costume properly, and Rainbow was able to pull Pinkie down the hall without being seen… but I just had to forget the sheet!"
"It ain't your fault, I said," Applejack said impatiently. "Anyway, that ain't important now. Twilight and Pinkie's gone off the rails. Something in the air's affectin' them. Can't you feel it on your skin?"
"I… I don't think so."
"It's like… it's like walking too near the dryer when it's fulla' blankets. Makes your hair stand up and your insides funny."
"I… I don't feel anything like that…" Fluttershy said, sniffing, and giving her wings a ruffle. Maybe she could pick something up in her feathers, but there was nothing to be found crawling over her skin. "Maybe… maybe I just fail at picking up feelings…"
"Fluttershy, would you stop that now?"
"But she's right!" Fluttershy lamented, crawling up to Applejack and putting on a piteous look. "I am a failure. I can't do anything right. I even messed up this simple task. I… I forgot to put on the sheet! Who else but me would forget something like that?"
"What sheet are you going on about anyway? First time I heard about this sheet was back at the balcony."
"You know, like a ghost. Twilight told me to put on a sheet before scaring Pinkie…"
"Darlin'," Applejack said, blinking over rolled eyes, "I'm pretty sure that the lack of the sheet wasn't really the absolute cause of it all here. Besides, you gave it your best shot, didn't you?"
"I tried…"
"Well then, Twilight shoulda' known that from the start. Getting' angry even though she knows somepony's limitations is just ridiculous!"
"Well… I like to think that she's angry because she knows I'm capable of much more and I didn't surpass my limitations…"
"What, you takin' her side now?"
"Well…"
"Wells are for fetchin' water from, sugar." Applejack snorted. "Listen, Twilight's just been breathin' in too much crazy air. She's probably okay right now, in fact, after havin' a couple minutes to herself. Why don't you go check up on her? You know, as a peace offerin' or whatnot. I'll gather the rest up and we should leave this house."
"O…okay… if you think that's best." Fluttershy nodded, turning for the door. "Are you… are you coming?"
"Yeah, I'm just gonna grab my saddlebags and pack up the lantern. I'll be out in a shake of a lamb's tail. You go ahead first. She's in one of the rooms downstairs along the corridor. You remember where that is, right? Entrance's next to the fireplace."
Fluttershy nodded, nudging the door open to a well-lit balcony. Before entering, Applejack had the foresight to leave lanterns around the place to help with the lighting. It almost looked cosy now, and even Fluttershy had no issue making her way around the place.
But even so, she flew down and quickly pushed through into the corridor, not wanting to spend her time alone for more than was necessary.
As she delved deeper, she was plunged into an eerily unnatural blind depth.
Her eyes took some time to get used to the lack of light, which came suddenly and abruptly, almost as if someone had turned off a switch. And as things came into focus, her eyes spied a section of the hallway that was lit up a little bit more than the rest. A soft ebb was gently trickling from a door ajar, and she could see it clearly from where she was.
Quickly, but silently, she made a beeline for the door, glancing in before nudging it with the side of her body.
The light grew stronger, flickering, more of it gushing forth from within the room. And as Fluttershy turned the corner, she saw where it was coming from.
It danced, floated, turned and twirled around Twilight's horn. The only source of light, magically conjured. But Twilight herself was in the far corner, sitting on her haunches, doing something rather peculiar.
Twilight's back faced Fluttershy as she walked in, her eyes adjusting further to the contours and shapes in the room. Alone, Twilight Sparkle sat, bathing in a sphere of yellow.
"Twilight?" Fluttershy said gently, trying not to startle her. "Twilight, it's me. Fluttershy. We're leaving this… this house… I'm here to fetch you…"
She stepped closer.
"Twilight?"
The unicorn was swaying back and forth irregularly, her left moving forward followed by her right, and so did the pattern repeat in small bursts. What she was doing was unclear so far, but the light captured her individual movements quite clearly.
It looked as if she was reaching out for something with alternating hooves, over and over again.
"Twilight…?" Fluttershy asked, stepping to the side, swinging around the bed and the bookcase, heading for her friend.
She turned the corner, Twilight coming into full view, and her actions were made clear.
Twilight was pushing a lamp.
With one hoof, she tilted the shade, pushing it out of alignment; with the other, she straightened it back to centre.
And over and over did she do this. Over and over. Pushing and pulling, eyes never blinking, red threads crawling across the whites of her eyes like a spider's web, her lips parted to chant a silent dirge that only she knew the lyrics to.
Every so often she would shudder, breathing in sharply, but never did she halt, pushing and pulling on the one lampshade, locked in an eternal war with herself.
"Twilight!" Fluttershy exclaimed, laying her own hooves upon Twilight's shoulder flanks. "Are you alright?"
The response was her head jerking forward, as if startled from sleep, and she turned her head, a look of great pain forming in her expression.
"N… no," she said, her head shuddering back and forth like clockwork broken down. "I… I can't. It's not… it's so messy. Everything must be… must be put back! Yes… yes. Put back all nicely, like… like it should. Everything in its place! Everything…. in its place."
"Twilight! What's wrong?" Fluttershy cried, tugging at her slightly. "What… what happened to you? What are you talking about?"
The Pegasus looked over her shoulder instinctively, into the shadows and into the places between. There was nothing. There was no one else. There was nothing out of place. Not a single book or scrap of paper.
"Twilight, we have to leave!" Fluttershy turned back to her friend.
"Everything is a mess…" Twilight repeated, turning back to the lamp.
"Twilight, you're scaring me!"
"Everything must be put in its place, Fluttershy," Twilight stated, a dreamy melody carrying her words in a cadence of a far-away song.
Fluttershy's eyes caught a figure in the doorway. Just a glimpse of a head and neck and face that peered around the frame into the room.
"Applejack, thank goodness," she exclaimed, legs still posed upon Twilight's shoulders. "Help me, there's something wrong with Twilight!"
The figure stood, a black cut-out against the hall, like a shadow.
And like a shadow, it faded into the dark as it stepped away.
"Applejack?" Fluttershy whimpered. She was upset now. Upset, worried, and more than a little bit frightened. Her ragged breathing quivered on her lips. She wanted to run, but in this most dire of circumstances she found that tiny speck of bravery within that held her fast to the room.
It made her head dizzy. Dizzy with confusion and alarm. But she pulled a little bit harder, almost by instinct, not knowing what results may come from her actions.
But she pulled.
Twilight felt stuck, her will fighting against Fluttershy's attempts to move her.
"Come on, Twilight, please," Fluttershy begged. "We… we have to get out of here. Please!"
Inch by inch, Twilight began to move, her legs outstretched toward the lamp and a look of confusion crossing her eyes, as if wondering why the world was moving further away. Fluttershy could only imagine what was going on in Twilight's head at that moment, or what she was seeing – it seemed to be causing Twilight great discomfort to be dragged away from the lamp.
It was as much as Fluttershy was able to do, as a small trickle of sweat beaded down the side of her head, cold and jarring. She was by no means a strong pony, and pulling Twilight back in small bursts was the best she could muster.
Perhaps, she thought, perhaps she should try to carry.
Fluttershy hooked her front legs under Twilight's own, her body feeling as limp and malleable as a sack of flour. The Pegasus grunted, flitting her wings in an attempt to gain some momentum.
But that was when Twilight decided to move. The lamp was too far away. The lamp that needed fixing. The lamp that was just out of her reach.
She surged forward, shrugging off her captor, picking herself up to move toward the object, shaking off all that would impede her.
Fluttershy flew back.
She wasn't flapping hard, nor was she cast off so strongly as to be propelled across the room. Yet, disoriented and taken by surprise, she found herself tumbling onto the large bed that drew focus to anyone who entered the room.
And there she landed, in the middle of a comfortable, heavy mattress stuffed with down, the cloth wrapping her up and folding over her limbs as she sank into the creaking bed.
Fluttershy breathed, looking up.
A saint looked back down.
Her wings, crumpled and mussed behind her back, were no help as she struggled to right herself up again; rolling around in that sink hole of feathers was her only choice.
But the bed, in its age, argued. It moaned and groaned and complained at having to hold a weight after years of rest, and the pillars loomed toward her from each corner as she clambered for the edge; silent watchers over their domain.
Across the face of the serene Saint Jude did a crack appear, with a piercingly sharp sound of crystal fracturing.
Fluttershy, now on her stomach, had to turn to look upward. Even in the dim light of Twilight's magical fires was it clear that a lattice of lines were starting to crawl over the glass ceiling, a network of scratches and cracks, all expanding out from the face of the pony that was staring down at her in judgement.
Her heart stopped for a moment, in case the next beat of her chest would cause the entire thing to fall down upon her.
And there she lay, at the edge, like a cat perched on a wall, ready to pounce. The door was just ahead of her, Twilight behind, and danger looming above. But the bed had stopped creaking now; it seemed to be happy where things were and no longer was the ice about to break.
But that was just something that Fluttershy hoped.
She breathed, the slowest she had ever breathed in her life, clenching her eyes shut and trying to fill the void in her head with any thought, any thought at all. But it was a futile effort – such had the situation left her, in a state where all things ceased in her mind, and preservation took over.
And preservation told her to put her legs on the edge of the bed, hooves flat against the side. Preservation told her to raise herself up slowly, little by little, stopping when she heard any grunts or cracks. Preservation told her that on the count of three she would open her wings and push forward, and dive off the bed as fast as she could manage.
On three she pushed.
She flung herself awkwardly, twisting a little in mid-air as her wings failed to beat at the same time, and landed up on the floor a little ways away from the bed, head bumping slightly against the wall next to the door.
She curled up around on her back in panic, the last remnants of the experience still fuelling her senses.
There was a groan, a creak, and a crack of branches breaking, but the bed stood still, and no rain fell.
No glass.
The bed had stopped its threats, now that she was clear. As her sight focused, she found the smiling face of the pony in the ceiling sparkling, as the light danced off its reflective surface, twinkling and gleaming.
A brilliance of colour and pinpricks of light shot forth from the stained glass, glancing off cracked edges and sheared design.
In between Fluttershy's soft breathing and the recovery of her sensibilities, she questioned it too late.
There was only one source of light in the room.
And the source was moving.
From where she lay on the floor at the edge of the bed, she saw the ball of light floating upward and over the mattress, guided by Twilight's horn. It was like the sun rising over the horizon, a sea of feathers and a sky of crystals, the star of dawn raising upward and over, giving birth to the new day.
Fluttershy's eyes flicked down to the bed. It was… messy. And back upward to Twilight's expressionless face, eyes glazed over, but still surveying the scene with confusion.
"Oh no," Fluttershy whispered.
"Fluttershy," Twilight said, suddenly focusing on the face of her friend. "What… happened here?"
"Twi… Twilight?" Fluttershy responded, unmoving. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"
Twilight's lower jaw quivered, as she struggled, struggled, to even put a slight frown on her own face. Her eyes started to dart left and right, chasing phantoms to the corners. Sometimes she would look at a spot on the far wall, and then let her sight trail downwards to something else equally vapid.
She seemed to be in deep thought, confusion; her calmness only caused by her body's inability to keep up with the things going through her mind.
Short bursts of breath and twitching muscles accompanied her attempt to answer Fluttershy's question, and after an excruciatingly long period in which neither of the two made a single noise, she finally gave a response.
"No," Twilight said, her head jerking a few centimeters to the right, unable to shake her head completely. "Please. Save me."
"Twilight, what are you doing?" Fluttershy asked, frozen to the floor.
The bed creaked again, angry at the new trespasser. A lilac hoof had been placed on the edge of the bed, very gingerly but with purpose.
"I… I don't know," Twilight answered, her voice choking. "I… I can't… I don't…"
"Twilight, don't do that! It's dangerous!" Fluttershy cried softly, in muted alarm.
A second hoof joined the first, and now half the weight of the unicorn was placed firmly on the bed's surface.
"Twilight! Stop! Please!" Fluttershy yelled out now.
She tried to get up. She couldn't. Her legs were weak, as was her head, wrapped in fog. Her limbs wouldn't respond; her wings wouldn't beat. All she could feel was a shifting of her body on the floor as she shook uncontrollably, and her vision blurred in and out with an insane pressure.
Twilight pulled back, yanking on the blanket and making it straight.
"I… I can't," Twilight said stoically. Her face wasn't contorted with sadness, as one might when in dire straits, but yet, a small tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. "Please, save me."
Save me.
She begged, looking at the bed again.
She begged, noting the folded up corner of the duvet on the far end of the bed.
She begged, reaching out to fix it.
Fluttershy saw it too, and suddenly her mind was once again cast into a whirlpool, a swirling darkness of blurry visions and strange sensations.
She thought she saw a lilac blur put her hooves up on the bed yet again, but this time with the aim to trespass to the far shore.
She knew she heard the bed give one, final growl – a sound she had heard many times before in animals and other wild creatures. It was the final sound, the final threat, the one that said, 'no more warnings'.
And the last thing she heard was Twilight whimpering.
One last plea.
"Please, save me."
Fluttershy shut her eyes, this time out of instinct. Before she even realised, she could move again, but this time only to wrap her hooves over her head, keeping out the noise and the sight and all the vulgarity.
The muffled crash of breaking glass exploded in the room, but it sounded ever so faint, ever so far away.
She was swimming now, swimming in the darkness, swimming in the place she was trying to escape to, tears running down her face for the fear of what happened or what might have happened, rocking back and forth and trying not to believe.
She didn't know how long she remained that way, a few seconds or a few minutes. But when she finally opened her eyes, she found herself staring at the floor, the edge of the bed just out of her field of vision.
She took a ragged breath in.
And slowly turned her eyes upward.
The light was flickering, the ball dancing around a horn – a horn that was now buried within a pit. The bed had collapsed inward, the four pillars now slanted at angles that were not of original design.
Across the field of lavish bedspreads were trees of glass, a chromatic forest sticking upward and growing from the crimson soil. It held itself, a mystic vista, various shards creating a symphony of shapes and edges, all of which formed this landscape that Twilight now lay under.
Fluttershy could only see these trees – Twilight had sunk far too deep within the pit of the bed, but her magical light still shone from within, creating even more spectacle as the shadows of the glass cast a kaleidoscope across the room.
But the light was fading. Slowly extinguishing. Slowly going out.
No noise. No cries. Just a fading light, and the colours disappearing from the universe.
"G…girls," Fluttershy whispered to herself, absolutely caught in abject terror. "Th…there's been… an… accident…"
She didn't want to look further. She had seen enough. She couldn't bear to witness. She needed to find somepony else – anypony else – who could help better than she could.
She shuddered inwardly, and suddenly her expression was oddly similar to what Twilight had when she was perched on the bed.
Fluttershy sniffed, searching the room for something to do, someone to talk to. Her eyes came to rest on a shard of glass that had landed near her.
It was an eye.
The eye of the saint, watching her from behind its crystal prison. Fractured, but still staring. Watching her and judging her.
"No… no…" Fluttershy responded. "I… I didn't. It was an accident… I…"
She went silent for a while, staring at the shard.
"I tried! I… couldn't move… I…"
Slowly she reached out with both front hooves, grabbing the shard of glass like a pincer. She brought it up to her face and stared, stared with a furious intensity at the eye, listening to what it had to say.
It simply stared until Fluttershy returned it to the carpet.
"I'm a failure… just like Twilight said…" Fluttershy said sadly, a few more tears joining the ones that had already smeared themselves across her face earlier. She got to her legs slowly, keeping the sight behind her unseen.
For some strange reason, there was another light coming in through the open doorway, replacing the light that had just faded completely.
She turned to face the door, a great weight behind her eyes. It felt like something was pulling her mind down, down into her throat and into the pit of her stomach.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Twilight," she said.
"That's okay!" a voice responded.
"Twilight?" Fluttershy turned suddenly, staring at the wall. She still couldn't turn back to look fully upon the scene. "Is that you?"
"Yes. I'm… I'm gone. But I just wanted to say that… well, I'm sorry too."
"But why? Why, Twilight? I let you down, just like earlier with the prank and… and now… now an accident…"
"Oh, that's fine. Don't even worry about that! See, I'm sorry because I was impatient with you, Fluttershy. You're my dear friend and I shouldn't have been. And well, now I'm safe."
"Sa…safe?"
"Yes. Listen, Fluttershy. There's something terrible about this house. There's something wrong. We're all in danger. You must help the others."
"But I… I can't…"
"Yes you can. Fluttershy, everypony makes mistakes, alright? I was being controlled by something earlier. Something that's also making Pinkie Pie all angry and something that's threatening our other friends. Only you can save them. Only you can help. I didn't mean to yell at you. I believe in you, Fluttershy."
"Only…"
"Only you can save us all."
There was something odd about this conversation. Something strange. Something obviously wrong.
But there was a red mist in her head that made her not want to think of it. It was a fog that wrapped up the logic of the moment in a self-contained place, where it only made sense to itself. It was trying to make her ignore a question that she wanted to ask, something that she should. Something that, with a little effort, she eventually did.
"Twilight?" Fluttershy asked the room. "How are you talking to me right now?"
No reply came for the moments that were waited.
"Twilight?" Fluttershy asked again.
Finally, the fog seeped into the voids in her mind that logic couldn't, and finding herself lacking a reason to stay, she turned once again to the door, the last thing that was said to her echoing in her head.
Save them.
Fluttershy stepped into the hallway, throat dry and joints stiff. There was a lantern – one of theirs – placed beside the open door. She frowned at it.
Was Applejack just here? If she was, why did she leave just now? She thought she saw her in the doorway earlier. But then why drop the lantern and move off?
The red mist that clouded her mind started to fade, allowing her thoughts to clear slightly, leaving small pieces plugging the cracks between.
The first time she opened the door was when she heard the door across the balcony slamming shut, and a monstrous head with a white face poking out of its mouth peered out of the frame.
"Flutters– oh…" Rarity said, to herself, watching the Pegasus fly off the edge. She hadn't heard her, hadn't seen her, and perhaps it was time to duck back into the room for a second try.
A second try to get it off.
For the pretty little mare was stuck.
The suit refused to be removed.
She had made an earlier attempt, pulling on the zipper with all of her might and all of her magic, but it held fast.
Rarity was trapped in a skin of her creation.
From the speed that Fluttershy was flying, there was no way that Rarity could have caught up in time. She could barely walk in the thing, let alone take the stairs in oversized feet and draping layers.
It felt like she was piling ten thick blankets over herself, and she slid around inside of it, the only traction she could get coming from the plastic claws that she had sewn into the costume.
It was a rush job, after all. With a bit of afterthought she should have made it more form fitting or given the paws some non-stick fabric, but, well, it was only going to be used for a short time. She'd certainly been in the thing far longer than she had expected.
And it now made her feel incredibly annoyed.
She glanced around the room that she was in, furnished by a couple of portable lanterns of her own. Her saddlebags, now empty, lay sinking into a far corner, and she found herself pacing around the large settee that displayed itself in the middle of the room.
It was a larger bedroom, but one unremarkable in character. It was obviously meant to cater to guests of the mansion – it had a full dresser, cushions, a large bed, nightstands, and everything was spaced out just so. With its clean and upholstered look, it was lacking that element of personality that let you know someone was living in it.
It was a template, something empty and formless to put an image upon, but only for a while.
Rarity almost felt like she could relate.
In proper lighting, the image that she bore was a bit of a joke. It was a patchwork of cloth, colours and faux hair, mostly white, but with bits of green and red and blue all sticking out in the shadowy areas. The use of colour was in fact masterful, as Rarity would have nothing less from a product that she made, with the darker colours filling in the shadows and creating contours… but only in the dark.
Right now, it looked like a vaudevillian nightmare.
The head was a globe of white, with two yellow topaz gems tied on and bits of string where the eyes should go. Random patches of fur were glued on in slapdash patterns, and a slit down the middle, running from left to right, provided the hole through which Rarity now stuck her face through. The rest of the head hung down like the trunk of a mammoth from Rarity's chin, a flapping, sagging piece of skin that made the whole thing look like a deformed anteater.
It was a saggy rhinoceros of a costume, heavy on Rarity's shoulders and hot enough to make her sweat even in the cool air of the house.
She couldn’t help but be angry.
Well, fine.
This is just fantastic, isn't it?
It's not enough that I have to parade around in this horrific shame of a costume, but now I'm stuck.
And everypony's in a bad mood and have all gone off to do their own things, well.
If they thought she was going out there looking like this, they had another think coming. Rarity, upturned nose, decided there and then to stay, and when they had finished their childish games and decided to leave, they could come get her. In the meantime, she'd be trying to get out of this stupid costume.
She stared hard into the mirror above the dresser in the corner, looking at her mane matted over her forehead and all down her horn, looking at her face poking out of that skin, looking at her eyes that flashed red from the reflection of the light…
What was wrong with this suit, anyway? She turned, shuffling to the side awkwardly, trying to point her back toward the mirror in an angle that she could see. Just at the very edge, the zipper poked out, tauntingly, waving back and forth as if to challenge anyone to pull it down.
With another jolt of magic, Rarity tried again, exerting force upon the zip, yanking it with all her might, but still, it wouldn't move.
Her magic was not strong enough. Her powers had failed. Maybe Twilight would be able to help her…
No. Twilight was in a bad enough mood already. She didn't want to have to deal with it right now.
Besides, there were other ways to get out of a costume.
But, she really should leave, shouldn't she?
The strange thing was, every time she thought about going for help, something else would come into her mind and work on her pride, suggest the opposite, and tell her that she needn't bother. And she found herself listening to that voice, even when she knew that she shouldn't.
In the end, all she wanted to do was return to her own skin.
Rarity collapsed, with a huff of aggravation, on the settee, folds of flesh flopping over the side. She was extremely hot now, burning inside the cooker, and was finding it hard to breathe.
She closed her eyes for a while and sucked in the sweet, cool air of the room through her nostrils, hungrily drinking in oxygen to refresh her senses.
But she opened her eyes again at a sound.
It was hard to see in that thing. Peripheral vision was all but cut off, and it was like looking through a tunnel. The hole wasn't large enough for her entire head to push through, and she had to make do with swinging wildly in all directions, looking for the source of the noise.
It was a snort of sorts, the kind of noise that large animals make when they're huffing, wheezing, sneezing, or growling. A blast of air; in boredom, in anticipation.
A sound of impatience.
Rarity felt the hair on her skin prick up as she looked around.
It couldn't have been in her head, she heard it clearly.
But there was nothing there in the room with her.
She settled down again, slightly on edge, but not nesting as far as she did earlier.
Gently, slowly, her eyes began to shut once again.
And when her eyelids touched, they shot open as she stumbled off the lounger, cloth wadding up underneath her as she dragged herself out upon the sound of a wheezing in her ear.
It was definitely breathing. Something had breathed, audibly, directly beside her. It was loud enough to penetrate through the heavy fabric as if she were wearing nothing at all.
"W…who's there?" Rarity said, for no particular reason. It was strange that she asked that, she considered. It wasn't as if she was expecting an answer. She would be far happier if there wasn't one.
Her eyes scanned the room again, moving in a circle, rotating in spot. It was bright enough to see corner to corner with no problems whatsoever, and there certainly wasn't anywhere to hide, but there was nothing, yet again.
But there the oppressive noises began, more wheezing, more breathing, like an old stallion choking on water, it bubbled up from behind her and coughed out a guttural note.
Rarity swung around, tripping over herself, legs tangled in legs.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, eyes focusing on a figure on the opposite side of the room, a strange, lumpy figure with a bulbous head…
Her reflection.
Well now, that's all it was. Just her reflection.
Her heart decided to calm down now, as she took some deep breaths to settle her nerves. A gloved hoof came up to swaddle her face; she took comfort in the action.
Just… just a reflection.
She stared at the gems of the monster, yellow eyes glittering even more strongly than her own.
Her heart raced, beating upward, jumping through her body as an electric shock singed her skin and her brain. There was a sharp crashing noise that came from outside, somewhere downstairs, somewhere through the walls, and it made her jump.
Alright, this was just silly now.
Jumping at noises and funny sounds.
You're just uneasy. Just calm down, Rarity, and it'll be all alright. It'll be all okay. It'll be just… fine.
Maybe she should… take a look.
The concern overrode the nonsense clouding her brain, and perhaps, just perhaps, now would be a good time to leave, silly costume or no.
She plodded, as fast as she could drag herself, to the door, prising it open out of instinctual caution rather than flinging it open at a second's notice.
But what she saw was something she hadn't expected.
Darkness.
There had been a lantern outside lighting up the place not ten minutes ago, but now it was dark. The lantern was off, or gone, or broken, or spirited away. But whatever it was, it was now dark as night, and moving from the light of the room to the bleak of the hallways, Rarity had to squint to see.
She had to squint to see the gloomy figure that stood in front of her. A silhouette of pony form that blended into the shadows and stood at the very top of the stairs on her side. The door itself prevented the light from inside the room from casting itself upon the figure as it quickly picked up its head and stared at Rarity, before turning abruptly and making its way silently to the other end of the balcony.
"Apple…jack?" Rarity asked the darkness. "Twilight? Is that you?"
Another action born out of instinct drew Rarity back into the relative comfort of the room and shut the door behind her, which she leaned upon and stared, mouth half-open, eyes jumping randomly from furniture to furniture.
What was going on here? What happened?
Tonight was about noises. Noises that shouldn't be there; noises that shocked her and startled her.
And she was almost expecting it by this point, so she neither jumped nor flailed, but sat there still with a heart that clenched tightly when the third shocking noise suddenly echoed into the room.
Someone knocked.
Three times, gently, upon the door that Rarity was leaning against.
It was, once again, directly behind her, and imagination brought her instantly to think of ghouls, ghosts and demons.
But it was just a knock.
"Who's… who's there?" Rarity asked, a nervousness coating her usual sing-song tone. A grating sound etched into her voice from her raw, dry throat, and her peppered breathing was not helping in the slightest.
"It's me, Rarity. Fluttershy."
"Oh, thank goodness," Rarity cried out, throwing open the door this time, since there was safety on the other side. "Come in, quickly!"
"Is… is everything alright, Rarity?" Fluttershy asked, as she was pulled into the room, the door slamming shut.
"Fluttershy, is… where were you?" Rarity asked, barely registering Fluttershy's vapid look and dishevelled appearance. "Is everything okay?"
"I was downstairs. I was… helping Twilight," Fluttershy responded in monotone. "Rarity, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I've been… well, I've been hearing things." Rarity shuddered. "The… the sounds of wild beasts. And the shattering of glass."
"Oh, something… broke. Downstairs. It was what I was… helping Twilight with," Fluttershy said, an odd look crossing her face. Try as she might, she couldn't articulate the events that occurred. She remembered it as if watching it from a very far distance away through rain and fog. "I'm here to gather everypony to leave. I'm… helping."
Rarity turned away, a huge smile of relief crawling in.
"That… that is excellent news, dar… darling. I, for one, am done with this house. It is… creepy here. We should leave post haste, and it is good that you have come to fetch me, for I too require your help."
"You… you need my help as well?" Fluttershy asked, surprised that what Twilight had said was in fact, true.
"Yes. I… now, listen, you must keep this a secret from the other girls. I'm stuck in this horrid costume. You have to help me get out. No matter what it takes, alright?"
"Ye…yes, I'll help. I hope I can."
"Of course you can, Fluttershy. I believe in you. No matter what Twilight said earlier. Now come over here and help me out."
Fluttershy rushed over, to where Rarity was pointing to on her neck.
"I'd do this myself, of course," Rarity explained, a large fluffy claw motioning to the sleeve around her face, "but the zipper got stuck, if you can believe it! Anyway, help me out of this suit. I'm melting in this thing, dear!"
"Of… of course, Rarity," Fluttershy said, pushing on the head with her hooves.
Rarity's face struggled through the slit, not being able to make it past all the way. It was like trying to push a large balloon through a hoop. Her face stretched and squashed in strange ways as it fought against the headpiece, but would not pass.
"Um… Rarity, I think it's too small…"
"Yes, I know, Fluttershy. It is. Otherwise I wouldn't really need your help, would I? I have magic, after all," Rarity replied, a bit of that impatience returning. "Go on, just push a little harder, why don't you? Tear it if you must. I'll have no use for this costume after tonight."
"Um… alright…" Fluttershy mumbled, pressing toward the edge again, toward one of the corners of the slit. At least there was a bit of an edge there, a place where she could pull the cloth apart. With any luck it would tear easily. "I… I can't get a grip."
"Come on, Fluttershy, I'm dying in here!"
"Rarity, this… this feels strange."
"Oh, what is it?"
"I thought this was cloth," Fluttershy muttered further, stroking at the side of Rarity's face, trying to pry the costume open.
"It… is?" Rarity stated, that odd feeling from earlier once again creeping into her chest.
"But… it feels like leather. It's as thick as leather, too. I… I don't think I can tear it, at least not by myself. Don't you have a pair of scissors?"
"No, I left my tools at home, dear. Why would I carry them with me?"
"In case you got… stuck in the suit?"
"Please try harder, dear," Rarity said drearily. She hadn't the mood nor effort to handle nonsensical remarks at that time.
Fluttershy placed both hooves flat against the top of the costume, upon the pod-like protrusion on top of the headpiece, and pushed as hard as she could, even putting her wings into it a little.
"Ow!" Rarity squeaked, pulling back. "Not so hard!"
"But you told me…"
Rarity rubbed her forehead with the large costumed paw; she had felt the costume pulling on her skin, the sort of feeling you'd get if someone took a grab at your mane and jerked it back.
Pinpricks of discomfort crawled across her skull like ants.
She swallowed hard, feeling claustrophobic.
"I don't think it's coming out that way, Rarity," Fluttershy said in stark observation.
"It… it should not be that tight," Rarity said, staring at her companion. "It's… it's just cloth."
"It's very well made, though," Fluttershy commented. "I can barely see where the costume begins and where you end."
"Well… thank you, I suppose."
"Um… why don't you remove the shoes first?"
"Oh, it's all in one… in one piece, Fluttershy. The only entrance is in the back where the z… oh, of course! The zip, Fluttershy. Forget about the head. Just get the zip and we'll be out of here and on our way in no time."
"Couldn't you have unzipped yourself?" Fluttershy asked, full of questions, as she made her way around Rarity toward her back.
"I had tried, but the zipper… it seems to have caught on something. I simply can't see what from where I am. Could you take a look please?"
"Um…" Fluttershy murmured, as she drew her hooves over the folds of skin on Rarity's back, pushing aside swathes of flesh to look at the metal tag.
"Perhaps a thread or something…"
"Rarity, did you… did you sew this right?" Fluttershy asked.
"Of course I did, don't… don't be silly. Maybe it jumped a tooth…"
"No, I mean… well, I can't see anything, Rarity. There's nothing for it to go down…"
"What… what are you saying, Fluttershy?" Rarity asked, the last remnants of her smile fading from the confusion.
"Rarity, there's no zip."
"That's not funny, Fluttershy. Now… now just pull the zipper and…"
"Rarity, there's no zip… The zipper is there, the little thing… but there's no…. there's no zip. It's just sticking out of the cloth," Fluttershy stated, still crawling upon Rarity's back.
"Fluttershy?" Rarity said, a calamitous frown of worry on her mouth. "Pull the zipper."
"But there–"
"Pull the zipper!" Rarity demanded, her head pounding.
Spurred by the shout, Fluttershy grasped the little metal tag between her teeth, and yanked as hard as she could, backward and downward.
Rarity screamed.
She shrieked, she yelled, she wailed.
She collapsed onto the floor, breathing through the pain that shot down her back, holding onto the last remnants of self-control.
On her back the skin tore, a piece of fabric hanging onto the metal tag. It was wet, moist, it glistened black, lumps of wet thread hanging onto the flap that was ripped off from the pulling. From the tear in the cloth a black oil began to ooze up, bubbling and streaking down the side of the costume, staining the floor with ichor.
"Oh… oh my goodness… Rarity, are you alright?" Fluttershy gasped, flecks of black oil splattered across her face. She rushed to the front where Rarity was burying her face into the ground, hammering on the floor with a hoof to stop the throbbing on her back.
"W… what did you do?" Rarity yelled, stuttering and shuddering out of a teary face. "Wh… what hap… happened?"
"I… I pulled the zip!" Fluttershy shouted back, panic and fear again rising in her head.
"Why… why does it hurt? It hurts, Fluttershy, it hurts!"
"I don't know! The… the cloth tore, and there's some kind of black liquid pouring out! What is that, Rarity? What is that?"
Pushing herself up with one final breath, she clambered to her hooves, wincing every so often although the pain was starting to die down. Thick oil dripped, splashing around Rarity's legs.
"Rarity…" Fluttershy said, looking at her face.
"Wh…what?" Rarity croaked.
"What's happening to you…?"
Rarity turned. Shaking, but strangely solidly. No longer did she slide in the oversized legs. No longer did she have trouble keeping balance. Even the pain was not much of a distraction from what she saw in the mirror that lay on the far end of the room.
The slit in the head of the beast was gone. The fabric, as white as Rarity's own skin, was now transiting from her cheeks, her neck, her forehead, her face, directly into the bulbous head of the monster. A patch of purple mane stuck out – Rarity's own hair – but it looked no better than one of the tufts of fur she had sewn into the costume.
It looked like a malignant growth upon her head; a huge tumour that bulged out lopsidedly, throbbing and pulsating. It was like a chalk-white spider sac, stuffed full of crawling insects, things moving under the surface and liquids rushing back and forth within the skin.
The long drooping face of the creature swayed with Rarity's movements, bobbing up and down slightly in tempo with Rarity's breathing. She could see it contract and extend like an accordion, and every so often it would twitch.
For no reason but to affirm this fact, she lifted a hoof to her face, rubbing it down her own cheek to where the costume was meant to begin.
She almost didn't notice that she could feel it. Through the costume. Through the fabric. She could feel her own touch.
She could feel it as if the hand of the costume were her own.
She dropped her hoof, wincing again, as a sharp claw scratched her face.
A black ooze poured out, dripping down in rivulets, even from the skin that was supposed to be hers.
Rarity's head lowered, her mind overwhelmed with the thought of this vile magic.
"S…sa…"
She whispered, her voice joined by a voice that wasn't hers.
"Save me…. save me, Fluttershy. Please. Please help me. Save me," the two sets of words whimpered, her eyes remained stuck to a single spot on the floor.
"Rarity… what's going…. going on? Why do you sound like that?"
"Get me out… get me out of this costume," she begged, implored, the pool of oil gathering under her growing to a quantity of frightening amounts.
She breathed in hard and once again the sound of a guttural wheezing came from behind her. But no longer was she shocked. She now knew where the sounds were coming from.
"Fluttershy, please… save me…"
The words lingered in Fluttershy's head as she dashed outside again, down the stairs, and stopped in the darkness of the bottom floor. She had no idea what she was doing or where she was going.
All she knew was that she had to save Rarity.
Save her.
No matter what it took.
The words wrapped themselves in dense red fog, swirling in and out of her mind; the only clear image were the words; the only clear action was the path that lay before her.
Panic had almost completely tied Rarity up in its grip, as she reduced herself to a corner, crawling and scratching at the walls with her paws, as if she could dig the answers she sought out from the edges where the floor met the walls.
She didn't even look up when Fluttershy reappeared an eternal minute after she had left, wing wrapped around something shiny and colourful.
"Rarity!" Fluttershy shouted, rushing toward her friend in the corner, her wing unfolding to reveal an eye staring out of stained glass. "I… I can help! I can save you! Just… come here and trust me, trust me!"
"W…what?" Rarity asked, her head juddering to the left, sickly and lost.
And then Fluttershy began her work.
–––
Rarity lay in the corner, unmoving, a large scar of fibres running down the length of her back. Twisted knots of frayed thread separated from each other, and balls of yarn on string hung loosely from the opening – balls like winter ornaments, various sizes and shapes, all hanging from the wound.
Thick pink ropes in a large coil exploded from Rarity's back some time ago, sliding out and landing on the floor, their ends hidden somewhere within the cavity.
And all of Rarity swam in a large, circular pool of oil, a thick black mucous that carried the offering on an obsidian platter.
Rarity lay in the corner, unmoving.
Fluttershy cried, once again, cried to herself and to her own conscience, weeping at her failure, weeping at how she once again failed to save a friend.
The shard of glass lay beside her, black oil running off its edge.
Her face scrunched up into a tortured visage of mental anguish.
She had failed.
Failed.
Failure.
Was she? Was she a failure?
She rocked back and forth, once again her mind opening to the fog.
But no.
No. She wasn't.
Why not?
Because you did well. Because you saved me.
Really?
"Really," Rarity answered.
Fluttershy beamed, facing the door. A grand smile returned to her wet face, a feeling of pride and accomplishment bringing warmth to her heart.
"You did well, darling!" Rarity said, further complimenting the proud little pony. "As I knew you would."
"I… I'm really not a failure, am I?"
"Oh, don't be silly, of course not. You saved Twilight, and now you saved me. I was in so much pain, darling, you have no idea. But you took the pain away. You took it away and you saved me."
"I did." Fluttershy nodded. "I did. Thank you, Rarity."
"No, thank you, dear Fluttershy. We knew we could count on you."
"Well… it's nice to have the support…"
"And we're behind you all the way, darling! Now, there's three more in the house, and I think they're in trouble too! You might want to pop on out. I think I hear one of our friends just outside."
Fluttershy nodded, grinning from ear to ear. She snatched the shard of glass up again, holding it tightly in a wing, secure in mother's arm. She didn't react to the glass scratching against her down, and even when small trickles of blood seeped and stained her feathers, she still smiled as she left.
"Oh!" Fluttershy said, as she pushed the door open.
On the ground in front of her lay another of her friends, just as Rarity had said. Surely, this must be whom she was referring to.
Rainbow Dash twitched, crawling up against the balcony. Her whole body was shaking, so much so that even though it was obscured by shadow, Fluttershy could see it clearly. The light from the wide open door cast down upon the other Pegasus as Fluttershy stepped out of the way, and Rainbow's full form was revealed.
Dash's eyes were wide open, dry and cracking, throbbing red veins travelling across the whites, and her pupils so enlarged that they pushed out the deep lilacs of her irises.
She was breathing in short bursts, her wings bent into unusual positions, as she pulled herself along the floor, away from the dark corridor. She crawled, yanking herself forward as if struggling to escape something. Even as she reached the balustrade itself, wooden bars of a cage that prevented her from dropping off the edge, she still tried to push through, as if it were part of the flat terrain behind her.
Fluttershy walked up to her friend, meekly, nodding down at the figure.
"Don't worry," she said, smiling gently. "I can save you."
Rainbow Dash shot up with a start when she heard the crash. The sound of glass breaking came from somewhere beneath her, and that was never a good sound, no matter what the circumstance.
Especially when her friends had just been in a sort of semi, kind-of, something argument. But Dash never wanted to involve herself in such things, and she had been passing her time floating around the pitch-dark corridor that she had dragged Pinkie into earlier.
Alone with her thoughts.
Thoughts such as –
What's everypony's beef, anyway?
Why is Pinkie acting so weird?
Why's Twilight so extra egg-head today?
I'm hungry. I wonder if I could steal some of that cake?
– Thoughts of a Pegasus who danced on darkness and hovered gently on a river of night.
But she shot up when she heard the crash, twisting in mid-air into a posture of alertness, like a wolf catching scent of prey that strayed too close.
She had only come here because everyone else had retreated back to a room of their own. Perhaps it was best that she do the same; it seemed that everypony wanted to be alone for a while anyway.
Dash wasn't one for reflection, musing or internalization. But floating there in the bare silence and nothingness of the corridor, even she had to question if her actions contributed to the argument that arose.
Was it the best course of action to have dragged her friend, kicking and screaming, down a dark corridor, even if it was 'just a prank'? To put things into perspective, she and Pinkie were the ones who performed the majority of pranking in and about Ponyville, and they certainly had never reached this level of intensity before.
They had always known how to straddle the line, the line between a joke and something far more serious. Twilight definitely crossed that line sometime in the process, and Rainbow did nothing to stop it.
Perhaps it was because Twilight had seemed so sure about it. So convinced about this entire plan. But when Dash thought about it, even coming to this house in the first place was a bit odd… and to have this entire 'prank' idea constructed around it, it seemed like a shoddy excuse just to get them here. The idea was uncharacteristic of Twilight, the serious, studious, straight-laced pony with her face in a book… but yet, everypony trusted her merely on her ability to put a plan together.
Perhaps nothing more was required.
Sure, Dash wasn't one for reflection, musing or internalization, but she knew what her gut told her, and it was telling her that something about this whole situation didn't sit right at all.
And after considering this for more than five minutes straight, her mind had tired out and she was ready for action once again.
Thank goodness for the sound of the crash – the whistle that started the race.
She pushed everything else out of her mind. Now was the time to get pumped and do what she did best.
Fly.
But… something was missing. Something had turned off. When she came down the hallway, she knew there were lanterns set up in the balcony behind her, thanks to Applejack. But now, it was dark and dull again, and not a flicker of a lamp could be seen.
The end of the corridor was ahead. She knew where it was. She knew which direction it was. After all, there were only two directions to go down any given straight hallway.
Behind her was a window through which moonlight cascaded, struggling through dirt and grime but just bright enough to illuminate four yellow squares painted into a black canvas.
It was so dim that its shape and positions seemed to jump around in the darkness, a trick of the light, but yet, it was unmistakably the window. With its four eyes staring on behind her, there was only one other direction to go in order to get to the balcony.
Past bevelled wooden doors she flew; peeling Victorian wallpaper and a long carpet stringing along her, all hiding in the darkness.
For one entire minute, she flew.
After a minute of flying, the joke wasn't funny anymore.
The corridor was a simple one. It was a normal one.
The only difference between this corridor and any other was the predicament that Dash found herself in – this predicament that made her angry and frustrated.
Her first thought was that somepony was pranking her in return, which was what she might have come to expect, considering what had just happened. But once again, this prank crossed the line with time as the tipping point – as the seconds ticked by, it turned from bemusing to annoying to plainly aggravating.
She felt the still winds as she pushed into them. She felt herself brushing past fuzzy plants and end-tables that she didn't even remember passing by on the way in. She even lowered herself for a while to feel the carpet drag beneath her hooves as she soared toward the end of the hall.
And after that minute had passed, she stopped, frown on her face, and turned in her mid-air position to take stock of her bearings.
Gazing down upon her were four square eyes of yellow.
Rainbow rolled her own.
"Alright, ha ha. You got me," she said sarcastically, touching down on the floor. "Very funny, Twilight."
Once again her gut started to speak. It told her that no matter what, once the joke was over, her friends would all appear from their hiding spaces to laugh and hug and turn the lights back up.
They wouldn't prolong the darkness. They wouldn't prolong the silence.
Silence?
"Hello?" Rainbow Dash asked, again, a few times in quick succession. "Hello. Hello? Hello!"
She asked this question, not to get a reply, not to look for anything hiding in the dark, not for the sake of asking.
She was testing the silence.
Even in a place such as a corridor of a house, there is always… something.
May it be the calling of crickets from outside, or the rustling of leaves against a window pane, pushed by the soft winds.
May it be the hum of electricity or the rattling of old pipes.
May it even be the echo of one's own voice.
But there came not a single noise. Her calls of 'hello' vanished, swallowed up by the black, stolen by the hallway. It was slightly like the main room, when they all had first entered the house. It was like how they hadn't noticed the noise until they realised there was a noise that was being made.
But here in the darkness, there was nothing – absolutely nothing – to make any sound whatsoever.
Her own voice rattled hollow, as if she were speaking inside her own head. She might as well have not said anything at all.
Even the wheezing of breath as it rushed forceful with annoyance from her nose harboured no sound at all. The only way she knew it was there was the feeling of her lungs as they emptied, and the slight rush of wind that blew past her chest.
It was as if she stood in the middle of a drain, where all light, sound, and even smell were taken and poured away into places beyond.
She could open her eyes, but it made no difference. All closing her eyes did was banish the four window panes which would otherwise stare back.
She could take in deep breaths but none of the smells she associated with life were there.
And she certainly could not hear anything. The last thing she heard was the glass.
Being one who attuned herself with nature, the outdoors, and the spirit of freedom, flying at night was just a different experience than flying during the day. It was never, to Dash, a lack of stimulus.
The night had always proven to hold just as much as the day did. There was a beautiful cascade of sensations in all forms, a pleasant tonal melody compared to the striking orchestra of its brighter counterpart.
But this… this was not night.
This was the lack of night. A place one more step removed from night.
And she felt cold.
It seemed the only sense still left was her ability to feel – to detect and experience on a physical level.
Her skin crawled with bumps as she came to this realisation, and she no longer knew if she should remain angry or start to be concerned.
She lived in a world rife with magic, and occurrences such as these, although nefarious, were possible. The best thing to do was follow one of her own philosophies – to keep calm, and fly true.
All it meant was that in all cases, she had to be in control. To be calm is to be in control. To be in control is to be able to fly straight and true. And more than ever, that was what was needed in this situation.
She ran a hoof over her face and other legs, just to make sure they were still there.
"Okay," she said to herself. Or was that a thought?
The beating of her wings, the familiar pressure of air as she took off the ground, and the weightlessness of flight… so far, all felt as intended. In fact, it was hard to ignore it – without anything else to focus on, her brain picked up on every tiny movement and every new sensation in a pronounced way.
It was like those sensory deprivation tanks at the spa that Rarity had attempted to describe to her once. Invited her to try it out, even. No thanks, Rainbow said. It didn't sound like a fun experience. If that was anything like this, her judgement was correct.
It wasn't fun at all. In fact, the hairs on her neck began to prick up as a shot of static flew through the air, passed through her body, and headed far away. It was disquieting, discomforting, and disillusioning.
And Rarity did this for relaxation?
Whatever.
She kept her eye on the window, once again re-aligning herself such that the four square eyes were directly behind her.
Perfect.
Again she flew, slowly at first, taking glances over her shoulder. The further she got, the smaller the window shrank, as was expected.
And then she picked up the pace, tunnelling through the murk, swimming in the gloom, pressing forth like a hoof through jelly, the black leaving a wake behind her that swirled with her rainbow streak that was eventually overpowered and swallowed by the darkness.
She turned again, to check how far she had gone.
"What?" she yelled, dropping her shoulders to an upright position as she fell roughly to the ground. "Come on!"
As clear as it was before, no more than a meter in behind her, was the window, still staring, still watching.
Rainbow was furious now, and if her face could be seen it would have been easy to tell.
Her haunches bobbed up and down with her breath, her tense muscles pulling her legs straight and curled over and over.
Her spirits deflated.
This time she flew backwards, something that not many Pegasi could do, but she performed it with ease, testament to her practice.
It was all in the positioning of the body and how you beat your wings just there and like that. Pushing yourself backwards in flight was no problem at all.
Again, the window started to shrink, moving further away. But in this atmosphere, with no other points of reference, it looked like a drawing that was simply dwindling in size. It was just an image against a backdrop. It didn't feel like distance meant anything to the window.
But still, Dash moved; it was the one last thing she had confidence in. She knew she was moving because she felt she was moving, and no matter how many times she was being dragged back to the start, she would try again and again until either her or the magic gave up.
Certainly, there was none more stubborn and strong than Dash herself.
Even this foul magic had no contest against the pure determination of the Rainbow!
The window continued to diminish, and for the first few moments, Dash was even unwilling to blink, for the fear that blinking would cause the window to start to chase her again during the milliseconds that her eyes were shut.
"Alright, you stay there," Rainbow commanded, and it obeyed.
The Pegasus smiled. She smirked, happily. She rewarded herself with a small feeling of accomplishment.
"And don't come back!" she yelled, with commitment, hoping that she actually did something there.
And the window obliged.
But Rainbow's jaw opened, slightly, out of shock more than anything, as the four panes of the window blinked out, as if someone turned off the moon. It vanished completely, the last trace of light, no matter how useless it was, disappearing from the hall.
"H… hey, come on," Rainbow said, suddenly changing her mind. "Come on! I didn't mean…"
Her mind raced on a surge of panic. It wasn't as if the window actually did anything to help her predicament, but it was the one last solid thing around her. It was the one last point she could focus on, and the one last lifeline in an empty well.
And now, through her own machinations, it had gone.
"Come… come back?" she asked, nicely.
It didn't.
"Oh boy," she muttered, settling down again. The carpet felt real beneath her hooves. At least that was still there.
Alright. Keep calm. Just try to keep calm. Just try to stay focused. The hall is still here. The hall is still around. That means you can follow it out. It'll just take you a little longer, that's all.
She felt the floor under her, and sidled towards one of the walls. It was there. A papered wall, rough to the touch, wrapped up as a gift for her.
And all she would have to do is keep to that wall and make her way down slowly.
There. No problem.
None.
Right?
Somehow she didn't feel like walking. Or flying. Or moving. Not anymore.
She felt an urge to curl up, to lie down and go to sleep, and maybe when she woke up she'd be out of this and everything would be alright.
Should she?
Flying didn't get her anywhere previously. Maybe it'd be better if she stayed still and had somepony find her. Somepony who could get her out of this hallway.
Rainbow dropped to a knee wearily. It was slow, deliberate, like someone testing the waters with a hoof before jumping into the ocean.
It felt welcoming. It felt peaceful.
It felt….
She felt….
She jolted forward suddenly, her heart picking up pace and thundering in her chest as she caved over her bent knee and rolled against the wall. She felt the wallpaper scrape against her side as she tumbled to the ground, but she didn't wait to recover before scrabbling like an insect as far as those tiny bursts would allow her.
As her brain started to regain control over all the limbs that weren't working in unison, she finally found the coordination necessary to get back up to her hooves.
She froze in place, trying to picture what had just touched her down her back.
It had come from nowhere, without warning, without alert. It caused alarm, but perhaps that was simply due to the startling nature of it all. After all, Dash didn't like being touched in general, but these circumstances just elevated her reactions to something that might have been just a little exaggerated.
But she tried to remember what it felt like. Maybe then she could rationalize about what it was.
Instantly, a variety of things popped into her head as she tried to compare the sensation with other things that would bear the same feelings.
She ran through all the things that it reminded her of. It wasn't warm. It felt chilling. It felt like the legs of insects, or the prod of a pony. It felt like vines or leaves or wings of a bat. It felt like the trail of a slug or the tongue of a dog.
It felt like a draping. Like a piece of cloth, or perhaps a bushel of hair had been drawn down her spine. It felt like a breath, like a gust, but one that took solid form. It was something that could move around with great ease, had a cotton-like texture to it, but was too, prickly and cold.
It felt like nothing that she could think of clearly, the individual sensations contradicting each other. Nothing she knew felt like that. Nothing should feel like that.
It was the end of that thought when it came again, engulfing her rear leg like a shackle, clamping down on her and running itself over her skin.
She screamed inwardly, the shock still coming, albeit less now; muffled whines through closed lips repeating over and over like the pitiful calls of an abandoned puppy, as she surged forward again, throwing herself down the hallway. She shook her leg to get it free, and there was no resistance at all; she was simply loose of whatever it was, and no attempts to harm her were made.
But now she wouldn't stop. Breathing hard to keep her heart in check, she kept moving forward, keeping to the wall, trying to reach the end.
But the thing kept coming, and every stroke, every clutch, every grasping of the thing caused Rainbow Dash to shudder, shake, clench her eyes in disgust and fear, and cry into her own throat. Each time it came she stumbled a little further, and more and more did she walk on unsteady ground, as if the walls themselves were warping around her.
It came to the point where she was pulling herself, one leg at a time, through a place with no end, her teeth clamped down hard on her lower lip to help her keep focused on that one mantra. Keep calm, and fly true.
Just move with conviction.
She bit hard, the pain helping her to keep the phantoms at bay.
They weren't hurting her, right?
They just wanted to touch.
There was no problem. No problem.
No problem.
Just keep walking.
Fly true.
Her jaw clenched suddenly, a little too hard, and a small trickle of blood began to seep into her mouth.
But even then, she refused to release her lip from her teeth's grasp.
She had bitten down in shock, in the shock of having had walked into something else, another of the thing's friends, a small, feathery tendril with hairs that squirmed and moved and bristled, which had done well to place itself in her path, and it stroked there upon her cheek, leaving a mental stinging and itching upon her face.
These things hung from the ceiling, like an infestation of tails, like the hairy backs of moths, like the woolly brush of a poisonous fern. But yet, they were not. They were something else altogether, alive but not alive, aware but not aware.
With her rear legs constantly pulling away from the slimy flat ribbons that clutched at them, all she had left were her front ones to propel her onward, and her wings swung forward to shield her face from the tendrils hanging down from above.
She was shuddering over her breath now, she didn't even notice that she was quaking uncontrollably, and each step was placed with such lack of confidence that she might have tripped even though the ground was perfectly level. Her wings convulsed and shook as the thin strands that hung down crawled over them.
They didn't appreciate merely being pushed aside. They hung on for the ride, like burrs stuck to the fur of a rabbit, grabbing onto Rainbow's wings with tiny little hooks and needles that swivelled and moved and let them crawl.
They nestled in between the cracks of her feathers, burrowing down and clambering on her back. They writhed over her mane, upon her face, and over her shoulder flanks. And all the while, still, those cold ribbons kept swallowing at her from behind, as if it were trying to wrap her up in a frigid, mucous cocoon.
Once in a while she reached up to beat the things out of her eyes and nose and mouth, when she felt that they had crawled down a bit too far. But it seems the only time they would leave is when Rainbow had walked far enough that they no longer could reach.
And then they would return home, shrinking back into the ceiling, where they belonged.
But she, she was stuck here, in a pit, molested and touched. Touched to the ends of her senses in a place where touch was all she had.
Rainbow began to feel ill.
With every step, with every crawl forward, a welling of sickness began to creep from her belly. With each thought of the things in the dark and what they might be, she had to struggle to keep back her gagging, and with her mouth now coated with the sharp tang of her bleeding lip did she find her stomach squeezing more and more.
But still she pushed forward, as if that act of walking forth was all she knew, as if it were all she could do. As much as this experience rested in the shallows of her heart, she dared not to think of what might happen if she stopped.
She dared not be engulfed by the things that touched.
She dared not to let them have their way.
And now, as she treaded on, were there creatures underneath her, scurrying over her chest and between her legs. Creatures that, as she flung them off with a shake or a shudder, vanished as if they were never there at all.
There were things that caressed and things that prodded, things that poked and things that embraced.
There were things that pulled on her skin like suckers, and cold wet things that rolled around like a ball of flesh.
There were things that slithered across on thousands of folds, and things that scratched with metal tangs.
All real but none truly there.
Fly true.
In the end, at the cusp of her sight, in the edge of her shaking vibrated a light. Her lip now covered with countless teeth marks and open wounds, sores and gashes bleeding a font of life, stayed quivering as she played with it in her mouth, just to let the pain remind her that she was still alive.
But, the light!
The light that grew larger as she stepped, pace by pace.
The light that seemed to chase the darkness away, and cause the creatures to retreat.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
She had been walking for… who knows how long it had been? She couldn't keep count. But she had made it. It was the light.
Familiar now were the long wooden pillars that prevented one from toppling over the edge. Familiar now was the curving floor of the balcony. The light even cast itself on the walls and doors as the hallway itself was illuminated.
Each step brought the light in more and more, and more and more into Rainbow's heart did the light shine.
She was a mess, with mane frayed and standing on end, and skin sore and red from countless slaps of her hoof, and rubbing against the walls in an effort to remove the parasites from her flesh. Her eyes were mere pinpricks, but the light…
It warmed and healed.
And she was nearly there.
And she wanted to cry.
She wanted to say no.
She wanted to yell out as the final slithery shadow wrapped itself around her ankle once again.
She wanted to protest as it pulled her back, the first violent action it had made since her ordeal began.
She wanted to kick it off as it dragged her, in a silent scream, tears of terror and pain falling from her eyes now like so many raindrops in a monsoon.
She wanted to be able to do more than just scrabble at the floor, her wings useless to fight against the pulling as much she tried.
The carpet bunched up under her as she hung on for hope.
And soon she was back again, her captor releasing her, lying on her back underneath the four square eyes of the window, that laughed and laughed and laughed at her, and told her –
Run.
Run, little pony, freedom is beyond, but do not linger, for all that awaits you here in stillness are the creatures of the night.
And so did Rainbow Dash run.
And then walk.
And then crawl.
And then remain still.
Fluttershy looked down upon her convulsing body scrabbling for freedom, pressed up against those wooden bars of the balcony.
The gentle, kind Pegasus nodded with understanding, watching as Rainbow pushed her face against the floor, frozen in a kind of torture that existed only behind her dead eyes.
"There there," Fluttershy said, placing a hoof gently upon Rainbow's shoulder.
Rainbow shrieked suddenly, through a drawing of a breath, her wings bending into unimaginable postures and a choking coming up from within.
From the edges of her bleeding mouth came a white bubbling, a thick, coarse foam gushing forth from her nose and throat, splattering onto the floor and coursing down her face.
"Oh, don't worry," Fluttershy continued, kneeling in front of the decayed frame of the rainbow. "I can save you. Look."
She thrust forward a wing, a wing stained with scratches, a wing which clasped tightly the eye of Saint Jude.
"Now, just relax. It'll all be over soon. It'll all be over."
–––
Fluttershy nodded, stood up and turned around again, and heard exactly what she needed to hear.
"Yes. Two more," she replied.
She stepped toward the staircase.
"Be… behind me?" she asked, turning suddenly.
And as she faced the corpse of Rainbow Dash did the voice fall to silence, but thanks to the glow of the doorway behind did she see a third figure that walked half in and half out of the shadows.
From the chest up was she obscured, but it was definitely something in a pony form, or pony shape, which stood on the edge of the other set of stairs.
But it bolted down, again, running off as Fluttershy caught wind, cantering to the lower level and fading.
A door slammed.
"Applejack," Fluttershy said, nodding. "I knew something happened when you didn't follow me. No matter. It is for the best."
She stepped over Rainbow, walking with conviction to the stairs, eyes grasping the door at the bottom, the one that led to the study.
The study was a large room, made for a singular purpose. Bookshelves lined the walls, even more so than the bedrooms, and a large desk complimenting scrolls and a few gold-filigreed letter-openers and quills bordered one end.
There was no carpet here, but instead, two plush cushions that sat alongside a small round table, upon which were glass tumblers on a silver tray. A pair of snifters accompanied them, along with a decanter half-full of some unidentified amber liquid.
Applejack wasn't about to go poking her nose into it; it didn't interest her, and it would be kind of silly to involve oneself with drinks that had be laid out for an age and a half, no matter what they were.
The globe that Rarity had pointed out earlier sat in the other corner, near the desk, sitting inside a large, circular wooden frame. This one Applejack had messed with. It was always the case in those old spy movies that these sorts of globes had secret compartments inside or something like that, but upon close observation it had turned out to be an actual globe used for the purpose for which it was built.
Swaddled between bookcases was a small fireplace, certainly not as lavish as the one in the foyer, but one that was just as functional. It was as quiet as the grandfather clock that was also present – both had shown signs of not having been used in a very long time. The clock's hands were frozen on 8.19, a random time as it seemed, but long-dead clockwork innards made sure that time was immortalized.
Applejack trailed her eyes from piece to piece, around the room once, the gaps between furniture embellished by paintings that hung on the wall – a boat here, a vista there, a hillside, a castle – generic prints of generic things.
She crossed the only window in the room, which was coated in grime like the rest, under which was placed a half-moon stand that bore a few curious knick knacks – a small hourglass with snakes carved into the stem, a very old book in some foreign language, a weird cylinder with letters printed onto its face, a wooden figurine of an outlandish jungle idol, complete with mask and shaman stick, and an ornate silver dagger, jewels set into the hilt.
Perhaps the house's owner had collected these in the past on strange and exotic travels, but now they lay, under a blanket of sleep, hiding away from the world.
It took a calm eye and focused mind to make this sweep, for despite the room's relaxing atmosphere, Applejack had determined early on that she was stuck in there.
From the very moment she had entered the room, she heard the door slam shut behind her. Dropping all the lanterns and her packs on the ground, she rushed up to it and tried to open it to no avail.
The door was jammed. Despite her efforts in pulling or pushing with the handle turned down, the door would not budge. It didn’t seem to have been locked, either.
It just wouldn't open.
She even gave it a couple of bangs for good measure, calling out for 'anypony', but there was no response.
So from there began Applejack's slow tour around the room, deciding that panicking wasn't going to be helpful in any way in this case.
Perhaps she could find something to help her out.
Perhaps the window, or…
Well, that was strange indeed.
But Applejack didn't gasp, nor did she yell out in shock, or scratch her head in bewilderment.
She simply walked towards what she saw, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
After all, she had felt that there was something funny about the house for quite a while now, and this was just proof if there ever was any.
So, other than surprising her, it simply solidified her position.
After her short jaunt around the room, she had returned back to where she had started from.
And the door was no longer there.
Well, the door was no longer there, but a different set was in place, fitted into the wall as if it had always been there from the start.
In fact, this set of doors was twice the width too, since there were two doors rather than the one, but the room had adjusted to make way. Furniture had silently shuffled into a new formation, pictures had re-hung themselves, and a new frame hammered itself into position.
All in a few seconds, and all without a sound.
Applejack recognized the doors, she thought. They were the main doors to the house.
She tilted her head in contemplation, musing on this.
She didn't have to think far before a click was heard, and the doors swung open slowly, offering freedom to the lone pony.
She came to the conclusion mere milliseconds before she saw it for herself, but what she had expected to see was proven to be the case. Beyond the doors was the garden outside, a little sun-lit path to freedom. It was the offer of escape, or at least, something very much like it.
Applejack snorted.
"Now, y'all ain't even tryin', are ya?" she said out loud, cursing the scene's mistake. It was almost amateurish to get the time of day wrong. Sure, it was tempting, as any calm, pleasant daylight stroll through the forest could be, but really?
It'd take somepony with far less will to immediately succumb to that.
"Go on, git," she said, turning away, as if her words could banish the vision away.
The doors remained open.
A delightful chirping of birdsong and the pleasantries of nature flowed through the portal. Crickets going about their tune, the rushing of water over pebbles in a stream, all these struck Applejack from behind as she was considering the desk on the other side of the room.
She shut her eyes, trying to ignore it.
But all that did were make the images stronger in her head.
If specific times could have a sound, this was one she was most familiar with. She heard this melodic symphony nearly every day back on the farm during sunset, when the insects and birds came out and when it was time to retire by the pond. It was a time when she could kick back and chew some grass in peace and watch as the sun dropped in the horizon, getting redder and redder as the sun's rays passed through the lower atmosphere… those red beams blinding her in her mind's eye.
Her eyes jerked open.
Before she realised, she had turned again, taking one step toward the doorway, which still showed the same image as before.
"You gotta do better than that," she muttered, under her breath, shaking her head and the images away.
Her annoyance made her breathe in a little heavier.
And upon that breath came another vision, another experience, as the scents of fresh grass, carried by the wind, swirled around her and made her remember.
She remembered home. She remembered fields of bright red strawberries and waves of corn. She remembered those plump fresh apples that hung off the branches of her trees, delicious and crimson. She remembered freshly baked pie and the scent of her sister's hair in the morning, and how the barn smelt after rain, a delicious petrichor of hay and dust…
Her eyes opened again, and she was standing, there, right in front of the open doorway, just a nose away from freedom.
She was startled now, at least.
She stumbled back, nearly tripping over herself, holding her mind steady as she tried to figure out what had carried her there.
But what is it that the house wanted? Was this a trap? Was it trying to get her to leave? She shuddered as she realised that the choice might not be hers to make.
"Alright," she said, gritting her teeth, "time to get serious, huh?"
She stood in full view of the landscape outside, the dirt track down the hill, the forests beyond, and planted herself down.
Whatever tricks, she told herself, whatever strange visions that come, keep your eyes open, stand firm, and do not listen. Do not fall victim to this magic of temptation. Do not cross the door.
More visions came.
This time with a wash of sound, smell and feeling, the warmth of the sun falling upon her cheeks. The breeze took the edge of the heat off, and it was all very comforting and relaxing. It almost made her feel like kicking back under a tree and watching as the red-chested robins flew by.
But this time she was ready for a fight. She kept her eyes as wide open as she could, and even as the invasion of thoughts and images pushed themselves into her brain, she kept focused on the doorframe. It was the single object in this room that told her that the images were just like a painting on a canvas, and the doorframe was the frame of the pictures themselves.
Knowing this made it less real than what it felt like.
But even so, she still stepped toward the opening, hoof by hoof, bit by bit. She was drawn to leave, the urges in her head screaming far beyond normal, plying her mind into two.
The part of her brain that was left un-assaulted fought back, crying out in silence for logic and reasoning to take over. And within that did it find the ultimate truth, something for it to latch onto.
She would not leave. She could not. The truth lay embedded in her morals, the ones that her very soul kept tight. She wasn't Rainbow, sure, but she knew about loyalty just as much as her friend did. She knew about faithfulness and belief and trust and all those other things that made her who she was, and by the end of it, she wasn't going to let selfishness take over.
Not to say that it wasn't a struggle.
She felt a tinge of cold on the edge of the threshold, as if a thin fabric had been stretched across the frame. It felt like trying to walk face-first through a gossamer sheet. But rather than cloth, she felt a sweeping chill of wind, casting away the warmth of the sun and burying her under motionlessness.
It looked sunny on the other side, but the doorway led to a place that was cold and dead.
With a final breath she flung herself to the side with all her heart and soul and mind, breaking the illusion for just one final instant before kicking at one of the two doors from behind.
It slammed shut, riling up a bit of dust.
And this was it, the final stretch.
Images still poured through the half-hole, but she had momentum now. She had spirit and fire, and she crawled her way to the other door, grabbing at it with both front legs, yanking; pulling it shut; and with a final resounding click, the invasive thoughts disappeared and were no more.
Applejack gasped, her hat falling from her head as she threw her sweat-soaked body against the doors that had just closed, making sure they wouldn't open again. She breathed heavily through dizzy eyes… she hadn't even noticed what an ordeal it had been until it was all over. She had no idea how much of a strain it was, only now evident from her current condition.
But the room was quiet now, and she dared to close her eyes. She dared to run a hoof over her face and lower her guard. She had beaten… something.
And now she sorta knew how it worked.
It sent images and signs and visions to trick you. It attacked you where you were vulnerable in your head. It focused on your insecurities. After all, to Applejack, home was everything. Family, home, and her life on the farm. If that wasn't alluring then what else could be?
Well, saving her friends had priority of course. Whatever it was that sent the images didn't account for that.
But then she heard yet another noise, something that came from the other side of the door she was leaning against. It was the sound of something wooden being thrown aside; it clattered noisily to the ground where it lay to rest.
Applejack peeled herself off and twirled around to look. The door had returned to normal, as had the rest of the room. It was a single wooden slab once more, the proper exit to the room, and something was turning the handle.
Applejack backed up, scooting to the other end of the room as the door slowly swung open and a familiar pink-maned head poked its way around the corner.
"A…applejack?" Fluttershy asked cautiously, peeking in. "Oh, Applejack! It's you!"
"Yes, I am… I am fine," Fluttershy said, entering the room fully. "What happened here? Why were you running away from me?"
"Runnin' away?" Applejack asked, confused. "What… what do you mean?"
"Well, remember earlier when we were upstairs and you asked me to find Twilight? Well, I did, and I saw you standing at the doorway, but then you suddenly left. And after I found Rarity and Rainbow Dash too, I saw you running down the stairs, so I followed you into this room."
"Well… that just ain't possible, sugar," Applejack said. "I've been stuck in here ever since we split up."
"In here?"
"Yeah. Right after you'd left the room upstairs, I got my stuff together and packed up all the lanterns and headed out. I figured you'd went down already so I took the stairs that headed past this room, right?"
Fluttershy nodded.
"Well, just as I was passin' this room, I hear a noise from inside. So I come to check it out, since Pinkie was supposed to be in here and all that, but when I entered this room there weren't nopony here!"
Fluttershy continued her vapid stare.
"Well, I mean, to be fair, it was all dark and everything, and the lanterns were inside my bags, so I set it down in the middle of the room to take 'em out, but the door slams shut behind me. So I rush to try to get it open, but it was stuck."
"Stuck…" Fluttershy muttered.
"Yeah, I couldn't open it at all, and I've been… trapped here ever since," Applejack concluded. Maybe now wasn't the best time to tell Fluttershy about that other thing she saw. That could come after they had all left, she figured, where it was relatively safer to panic.
"Oh… well, there was a broomstick stuck through the handle on the other side of the door," Fluttershy said, stepping closer. "I had to remove it before I could come in."
"A what?"
"Yes… someone must have wedged it in there. I'm not sure why, but that's probably why you couldn't get the door open."
"Well then, that oughta have given you a clue as well, shouldn't it?" Applejack said, sitting down for a rest.
"What do you mean?"
"If someone'd put a broomstick through the handle, and I was stuck here, then obviously I weren't the one who you saw earlier now, right?"
"Of… of course, that makes sense." Fluttershy nodded, looking ashamed at her inability to think. "Then who was it that I saw earlier?"
"I don't know, sugar," Applejack said, eyes looking toward the floor. "Probably one of the others."
"Well, I already found Twilight, Rarity and Rainbow."
"Yeah? How are they doin'? They alright?"
"I saved them."
"Saved, huh?" Applejack chuckled. "Strange choice of words. Could that pony you saw have been Pin…"
It took a fraction of a second for Applejack to leap to her hooves, staggering back and stumbling into the half-moon table, knocking over the hourglass.
"Fluttershy, what are you doin'?" Applejack shouted.
Standing where she had been sitting a moment ago was the demure little Pegasus, holding a glinting piece of glass in her wing. It was poised sideways like a scythe ready to reap, and it had only just now unfurled from behind her back. Yellow feathers were flecked and stained with red patches, and it still looked moist around where they grasped the shard.
"I'm saving you," Fluttershy said plainly.
It was only now that Applejack could see Fluttershy's eyes closely. They reflected light from the lanterns unnaturally, as if they had lost their sheen and were as dull as unpolished brass. She had sounded normal as she entered, but she was acting a little bit more than peculiar.
There were strange black flecks across her face, too, like spots of ink, and there were some red and black splotches that ran up her hooves, staining her natural yellow coat. Somehow, she had missed them earlier, perhaps due to her lowered guard. Perhaps something hadn't wanted her to see it.
They seemed to have only just appeared.
The appearance of the glass seemed to have stripped away an overlay that covered Fluttershy. She had looked, to Applejack, exactly how Applejack had expected her to look, and not like how she looked now.
"So what are you doin' with that piece of glass, darling?" Applejack asked, keeping her eyes trained on the figure that was slowly approaching.
"I'm… saving you," Fluttershy repeated, those words the only thing she knew.
Applejack's heart skipped a beat. She felt it, she felt it seizing up inside her as she thought of the only thing that this could possibly mean. But still, she had to ask. She had to confirm her stray thoughts.
"Fluttershy, where's Twilight?" Applejack asked, carefully, pulling herself up at the same time and stepping to the right just as slowly as Fluttershy was moving.
"She's… in the room down the hallway from here."
"And Rarity?"
"In the room upstairs, across the balcony."
"And Rainbow?"
"On the top of the landing, outside the hallway."
"Fluttershy?" Applejack asked, the two of them circling around each other now. Applejack was keeping her due distance, moving around, trying to keep Fluttershy in the middle of the room. If she had any idea what was happening, she didn't seem to show it. All she did was answer questions and walk… walk towards Applejack, glass at the ready. "What did you do to them?"
"I… I saved them, of course."
"What does that mean?" Applejack shouted, losing patience.
"It… it means that…." Fluttershy stopped momentarily, her wing dropping a few inches. "I… I saved them."
"Okay, Fluttershy, listen to me, alright?" Applejack approached the door, keeping it behind her. "Put the glass down."
"But why?" Fluttershy asked.
"Because you don't need it. We'll get out of here together, alright? We'll go find Pinkie and the others, and we'll get out of here, all of us."
There was no time to cry, there was no time to be sad. There was no time to settle on possibilities. Suddenly she was on high alert; the only thing that mattered now was to get out of this room and go find the rest of her friends. Maybe they were okay after all, who knew? There was one way to find out, and clearly, Fluttershy wasn't giving any answers.
Just keep a clear head, Applejack. You beat this once. You can get through this again.
Her hoof flew to the door handle, plunging it down and yanking on it as hard as she could.
"What… what are you doing?" Fluttershy asked, tilting her head.
The door wouldn't budge.
"I… I…" Applejack stammered, staring at the handle within the clasp of her hooves. Wait, when did it get stuck again? Wait, when did the door even close? Fluttershy didn't close it when she came in. Why is it closed now? And why is it stuck again? Her head emptied of any potential answers to Fluttershy's question.
"Here, let me…" Fluttershy invited, skipping toward Applejack, who tumbled out of the way again, landing on her rear to her left.
"Fluttershy, put that thing down!" Applejack yelled, holding a hoof out.
"I… I can't," Fluttershy told her. "I have to save you."
"You are! You can! Alright? You can save me if you wanna, but you don't have to use that thing! You're bleeding, Fluttershy! Doesn't that hurt?"
Fluttershy's eyes darted to her own blood-stained wing.
"Y… yes," she said. "It does."
"Then… then put it down, sugar. Put it down. Alright? None of us needs to feel pain. None of us needs to hurt. Let's get out together, leave this room and we can go find the others and get out of this house. Does that sound alright?"
"It…" Fluttershy began, before falling silent, as if she had to give this a great deal of thought. A frown line appeared on her forehead.
"C'mon now, sugar. Put the glass down." Applejack patted the ground with a hoof. "Put it down now."
"I… I can't." Fluttershy started to advance again.
Applejack shifted back a bit more, scrabbling back up to her hooves.
"Why not?"
"Because I was told to do this."
"By who, sugar?" Applejack swallowed hard, moving around the room again. She felt like a mouse now, being toyed by a lion. A very slow-moving lion who wasn't in a rush to get things done. But all she had was her words.
Perhaps the analogy wasn't that precise. Worst-case scenario, Applejack would have to take Fluttershy down by force. It wouldn't be difficult; this mouse packed a punch.
Maybe she could kick the door down! But… that might make Fluttershy panic, and she wouldn't want that, would she?
Besides, it might take more than one or two kicks to get it open. It swung inward, so she'd have to fight against the frame… could she do it in time before Fluttershy got to her with that shard?
Why does she even have it anyway? What happened out there? What in tarnation happened?
I'm… dizzy.
I'm tired.
I don't want to hurt her. I have to talk her down. I have to convince her to put that shard down.
At least… I have to try.
There was a mix of fear and determination in Applejack's emotions now. Regardless of relative strengths, the Pegasus across the room still had a sharp weapon. Furthermore by her own accounts, she had already 'saved' Rarity, Twilight and Rainbow Dash, three others who should have been able to overpower her easily…
It wouldn't hurt to be on guard.
"You were right, Applejack," Fluttershy said, in response to Applejack's question.
"About?"
"There is something going on here. The others were acting… strangely. At first, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to help. But then, Twilight told me. She told me what to do. She told me how to save everypony else."
"Twilight told you?" Applejack questioned, looking around for anything in the room that could help her. The lanterns she had brought in were leaking into the area, static and frozen, as if they were caught in a photograph.
Applejack edged around once again, finding herself back at the half-circle table.
"Yes, she told me. Well, in a way, I suppose," Fluttershy continued. "She told me how to do what… what was right and what was good. She told me how I could make up for my… my failures."
"Failures? Darlin' there… there ain't no failures here, alright? Listen, you… you've done… done good. Remember? I never thought you failed in the first place," Applejack spat out, her mind racing. Was this what it was all about? "You said Twilight told you what to do, right? Well, now I'm tellin' you the same thing, okay? You can save me, but without having to use that… thing. So put it down."
Fluttershy stepped closer, a strain on her face. She tried to keep smiling, but something behind it was full of pain and vinegar. It was like a young child smiling through the bruises after an incident behind the schoolyard; the kind of smile one wears when they pretend that everything is fine.
"Put it down, Fluttershy. Please."
"I… but…" she stepped forward again, a mere three steps from wing distance.
It was then when Applejack saw – Fluttershy's breathing had stiffened, hardened, and clenched into a tight ball of painful rasps, and she shivered in place, her mouth opening and closing in confusion as to what expression it should represent.
But her eyes, her dead, dead eyes, collapsing to pinpoints, stared off into the distance, far away from Applejack, from the room, from the house on the hill.
"Applejack… somethi…ing's wrong… with me…"
"I know, darlin', but it's okay. We can get through this." Applejack huffed a slight sigh of relief. There was a crack. A small, tiny crack in a massive wall, but it was enough. She would dig and dig until she broke through. "You… you say you saved them, right? But I don't think… I don't think it was the right thing to do. I think something's tellin' you that it is, but it ain't, and you know it. You know it, right?"
Fluttershy remained perfectly still for that time, only her minute trembling giving sign that she was alive. Finally, after a while, as if it pained her to do so, she nodded in agreement.
"It's like your mind's tellin' you to do two things, right? One wants you to do this because it says it's right, but the other side is tellin' you that you oughta stop?"
A nod came again, after more silence and more waiting.
"Listen, Fluttershy. You have to fight it, alright? That voice, that voice which is tellin' ya to 'save' us, you gotta fight it. You gotta tell yourself it ain't right, and that's not the truth. I know it's hard, but focus on what's properly good."
Fluttershy didn't respond.
"You gotta… just think, Fluttershy, come on. Just think," Applejack continued. "You gotta think of what you've been doin', Fluttershy. Your mind's tellin' ya to save us but what have you been really doin'? What have you been really really doin'?"
Fluttershy's eyes closed. They slammed shut, almost audible in their ferocity. Her lips curled in as she thought, thought hard about the things that she didn't want to think about, about the things that her mind so easily banished to the far reaches where they could live ignored.
And from there she collapsed, crumpling up into a heap on the ground, her wing gripping the shard even more tightly.
She fell upon herself, swallowing slowly, breathing shallowly.
And when her eyes opened, they nearly looked real again.
"Don't say anythin'," Applejack cut in. Part of her didn't want to hear what Fluttershy had done. Part of her didn't want to know. She knew that it would be too hard to force Fluttershy to say it out loud. "Just… take that feelin', Fluttershy. Take it and I want you to realise somethin'."
There was something cascading inside the Pegasus right now. It was evident, clearly, obviously. The way she moved, and the way she kept focusing and unfocusing on different things… it felt like she had removed herself from the room. She couldn't respond normally any longer, and Applejack didn't expect her to. She could only make educated guesses as to what had happened outside the room, but she didn't think she was far off with her guesses.
Maybe that was why she didn't want Fluttershy to confirm it.
Maybe she wanted to leave and find the rest of them all waiting for her so that they could all get out together and find help.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
"Fluttershy!" Applejack shouted, shock creeping into her tone. While she had been distracted by thoughts herself, she hadn't noticed that her companion had taken yet another step closer to her, still brandishing her bloody weapon. "Fluttershy. All this… all this is because you were listenin' to that voice in your head that was tellin' you stuff, alright? But I'm here! I'm standin' right in front of you, and I'm tellin' you now, please stop! Please just stop this!"
Again, her pleas were met with more looks of confusion.
But then, a grimace.
A clenching of teeth and a loud exhale.
It was the sign of the fight.
"Come on, Fluttershy," Applejack said, softly. "You can do it. Just listen to me and put the glass down."
Fluttershy lifted her leg to take another step.
Applejack held her ground.
"Put the glass down," she repeated.
She saw a feather twitch, a bloody blade glisten. She saw a wing shudder and fall. She saw it all happen in a few seconds that felt like an hour.
First it lowered, not unclenching, still wrapped around the colourful piece of glass. But then, as it fell, like the unfurling of the wing of a dead bird, it loosened, and rattled, and to the ground dropped the object of Fluttershy's obsession.
It landed on its side, before finally resting flat on the floor, tip still pointed at Applejack, as if to accuse her of its relinquishment.
Fluttershy rushed forward now, suddenly, crying. Applejack couldn't see it for the fact that she now had a face buried beside her own, but the wetness on her shoulder was a strange comfort. It was sign of emotion; sign of life. Almost by instinct she put a leg around her partner, patting her back and comforting her as much as she could.
She couldn't stop Fluttershy's shaking, nor her sobbing, but she allowed herself a breath of relief as Fluttershy pushed her back into the table in a tackle that represented her freedom.
The table with all the knick knacks and gewgaws and…
Applejack's heart skipped once again.
Instantly she pulled away. With the leg around Fluttershy's back she managed to get a good momentum going, and she moved them both sideways into the writing desk, spilling quills and bottles and things everywhere as they both crashed into it.
And not a movement she made, while scrolls and rulers scattered over the desk's surface.
Nor did Fluttershy, save her panicked breathing as she held herself close to Applejack's chest.
Applejack's eyes peered past Fluttershy's pink mane, desperately searching for two things.
The piece of glass on the floor remained, glaring at her with hatred.
And on the table lay knick knacks and gewgaws and…
The dagger.
The dagger remained on the table.
Applejack's eyes rolled around as she started to breathe again. She didn't know what she was so scared of, really. It was just that instant of sudden realisation that set her off. She should have trusted the situation. She shouldn't have had to worry.
But she could take a short break now, sliding up against the desk, with Fluttershy pulled close to her along the other side. In fact, it seemed like Fluttershy had calmed down some herself, evident by the suddenly lack of noises. Maybe the sudden pull shocked her a bit too much.
"Hey, Fluttershy, sorry about that. I just thought I saw somethin'," Applejack explained with a slight chuckle, leaning against her friend.
"No," Fluttershy replied.
"Pardon me?"
"No. I'm the one… who's sorry," Fluttershy said, tears running down the side of her face.
"Aw, that's alright, sugar." Applejack smiled warmly. "It's all over now, alright? So, let's take a minute and then go find the others!"
There came no answer, just a slight rustling of paper from off to Applejack's side as Fluttershy moved in again to give her friend a big, loving hug.
"Fluttershy, it's really okay. I ain't blamin' you for any of this, alright? In fact, I oughta tell you what I saw in this room just now. It was the darndest–"
It started as a needlepoint, like the pricking of a hoof on a splinter or a stray bit of wire.
But it grew magnificently, the pain blooming out in seconds, like a cloud bursting with rain or one of Dash's sonic rainbooms.
Applejack coughed violently, flecks of spittle leaving her mouth and landing in Fluttershy's mane. She stared, trying to focus on Fluttershy's face, but it had ducked to her right, away from sight, and Applejack was left gazing through blurring vision at the wall.
Each cough made the pain worse. Each judder made the tear rip through her like an axe through tree bark.
Applejack's eyes swivelled wildly in her head, but turning her neck was difficult. Those slight muscle pulls made the pain in her back scream.
Out of the corner of her eye, as a bit of saliva trickled down the side of her mouth, she spotted a blur of a leg, raising back, and upward, and then swinging down again as quick as ever.
The hoof struck something… something that, with every swing, moved further into her back inch by inch.
And the pain erupted even more. It dug in deeper, lines of stinging lightning numbing her skin as nerves frayed and overloaded her senses.
She didn't know how deep it was. It had reached a point where sensations weren't quite so clear. In fact, the pain had spread and covered her whole body now. Pains of every kind – from the throbbing to the sharp ones, from the tingly electric ones to the kind that numbs.
Numbing. That was becoming more pronounced. That was starting to overtake the other kinds of pain.
For some reason it didn't seem that bad.
It was seconds ago when she was so fearful, so frightened, so scared of the idea that she might have been stabbed that everything stopped and her mind wrapped itself around that one potential moment, and drove her to avoid at all costs.
But now that she was already here… it felt… strangely serene. It wasn't a time to panic. It wasn't a time to rush about and be all scared. It felt like just something that happened. And oh, it's nearly already over.
She didn't have to turn around to realise that it was the letter opener. A sharp, thin metal thing, like a sword with a pointed tip… really, she'd laugh at the irony if it wasn't so inappropriate. Of course it was the letter opener. Silly of her to forget.
The pain was fading away now, being replaced by the dull thuds of Fluttershy's hoof pounding on things. She'd been at it for a while now. How many times did she need to hit to get it all the way in, anyway? I mean, she was weak, but not that weak, right? Was she trying to bury the entire thing in?
Applejack's mind started thinking of thoughts like these. Thoughts that were far away from the action, thoughts that were one step removed from the reality of the situation. She had always heard that when you're in a dire situation like this one, one only thinks of the things necessary to survive.
She wasn't thinking of anything like that at all. Maybe somehow she knew she didn't need to think of the things necessary to survive. Not any longer.
And it was nearly completely numb now, as ants started to crawl about the surface of her skin. All along her back, across her chest and deep down in the right half of her body – she knew not where – were electric dots of light that sparkled and crackled along the edges, joined slowly thereafter by a heaviness that weighed the area down and cut it off from the rest of her body.
The feeling was gone to the extent that it felt as if someone had removed it entirely, as if a large chunk was missing from her torso.
Another pain, smaller this time, more numb this time, joined the first one on the other side. She didn't know where it came from. Perhaps the nerves had reacted. Perhaps the initial pain had spread. Perhaps something else.
All she knew is that she needed to lie down.
But she was already on the floor. And then, that too, became obvious. Of course she had lain herself down. Of course she had. She had just forgotten.
Forgetting things… so many memories were fading now. What remained in her head were the faces of her family, her darling sister, her loving brother, her granny.
The things that were closest to her. The things that lingered on because they had become part of her.
She remembered the sunshine and how she worked on a farm, someplace, doing something.
She remembered that one time when she was a child and she fell down and scraped her knee, and old Granny Smith was there to kiss it better.
She remembered taking care of her sister when she was young and had nopony else. She hoped to be able to take care of her still.
She remembered her brother who had taken care of her. The one she could always rely on in times of trouble. Was he here now?
She remembered friends and birthdays and parties, and all the fun she had meeting Twilight a few years ago, and how they all found out they shared a special connection.
It was fate, and all that. Maybe this was fate too. Maybe their destinies were connected in more ways than what was already apparent.
She remembered this house, coming here. But she forgot why. She forgot most of what happened. She was beginning to forget why she was lying down. She was beginning to forget why she couldn't feel anything below her neck.
She looked straight on.
Fluttershy was kneeling in front of her, face to face.
Oh right, she remembered Fluttershy, too. That sweet and kind pony. The one who fell out of the sky one day and just decided to stick around because she loved animals so much.
That was the darndest thing, wasn't it?
She stuck around because she loved animals. What a wonderful, wonderful soul. What a sweet creature. And here she was, in front of Applejack, mouth opening and closing. She was trying to say something, but Applejack couldn't hear it.
All she could do was remember, in small flashes, small bits that came and intertwined with the other important things in her life. Pieces and fragments that had Fluttershy in them, the kind one, the loving one, the one who could never hurt a flea, the one who could never do anything wrong.
Had she… was she…?
Wait, what am I even thinking of? There's no way that Fluttershy could have done…
Oh, but…
Wait, Applejack, she's trying to say something. Listen. Pay attention. Pay attention to your friend. It's important.
And through a cloud of fog and echoes and empty caverns did her voice finally match the movements of her lips, and did Applejack finally hear what Fluttershy had been repeating all this while.
I'm sorry.
She said it, robotically, sorry for many things.
Sorry for what?
Sorry?
Just sorry.
Fluttershy was sorry.
Oh that's right.
She… of course she did.
But, it wasn't really her fault, was it? It was this…
Where were they again?
Applejack didn't know how much time had passed since it began. It was getting hard to blink now. Getting tough to breathe. She felt her body fade away and disappear forever. All that was left were her memories, and those too were slowly being swallowed up by the tranquil sea.
Still, there was probably something she should say now.
Something to make it right.
Her lungs burned when she tried to talk. Her breaths now were so shallow that they barely contained enough strength to whisper more than a few words. Some sort of fluid burned in her throat, coming from those organs that should have only held air.
They were filling up slowly.
But still, a few words. Enough to make things right.
Enough to, perhaps, if anything, let her leave in peace.
Because when you have a few words left, a few thoughts left, you spend it on the now.
It was the now that was running out.
It was the now that needed to be addressed.
Applejack's mind had finally focused on that one final thing. She hadn't the faintest idea why she needed to say it, nor the circumstances surrounding it, but something itched badly in her head, something that prodded and poked her, and told her that there was one last thing she needed to tell Fluttershy.
Something that she meant, wholeheartedly, selflessly, because only one of them needed this, and it wasn't herself.
And Applejack, in her final moments of the now, struggled to clear her throat, put on a gentle smile, and whispered:
"Ain't… your fault… 'Shy. I forgi–"
And then.
She was part of forever.
She joined her memories, and went off to run and play with her brother and sister and dear old Granny Smith, and all her friends, in a world where they could laugh and run and grow old together.
And together with her memories, resting upon her final breath, she left.
Fluttershy stood up.
She smiled.
Nodded.
She had tried.
She really did.
But she failed.
And that was what she was sorry about.
The only thing she would ever be sorry about.
But she nodded, her work now complete.
She turned towards the door.
There in the doorway, open to its full width, stood Pinkie, staring straight at the scene.
She looked around nervously, a little bit confused in her own mind, unsure of how she should be acting right now.
She felt like she was caught in the act of taking a walk in the park. Something somewhere deep down told her that there was nothing wrong about it, but by the look that she was being given, she couldn't help but question that maybe she had done something awful.
Too far gone was she to even be able to tell that the still form of Applejack that lay not a few feet behind her was what might be considered the result of bad behaviour.
It was just something she did now. It was something she had to do.
It was a walk in the park.
She caught the look on Pinkie's face. It wasn't hard to miss. It was a look of reprehension, of disgust and foul demeanour. But beyond that, there were shades that were hard to pick out. Was this all fuelled by a smattering of annoyance? But why would Pinkie be annoyed?
It disappeared in a blink.
"Oh, wow! I guess I was right!" Pinkie chuckled, the bounce returning to her voice and a smile started to spread through her lips. Even her hair seemed to gain buoyancy. "You really are the one, aren't you?"
"What do you… mean?" Fluttershy asked, weakly.
"Hehe!" Pinkie continued giggling. "Well, I mean, I don't know what I mean! I mean, I should start from the start, right? If anywhere was a good place to start, the start would be the best place! That's why they call it the start!"
Fluttershy blinked, confused. She was caught, once again, between logic and instinct. In one direction lay her task, but on the other hoof, it seemed there was no reason, no purpose to commit it. After all, she only had to save the ones that needed saving, and Pinkie seemed… normal. More normal than Applejack, even. Applejack was all paranoid and talking crazy.
Pinkie was just… Pinkie.
But the decision on how to proceed came from an unexpected source – one that took Fluttershy by surprise.
"Hey, so, you gotta save me or something, don'tcha?" Pinkie asked, nodding her bushy head furiously. "I've been hanging around and watching! You've done a great job with the others. Is it my turn yet? Oooh, is it my turn?"
"Y…yes," Fluttershy blurted out. "Yes, I… I think so."
"So come on! Let's go!" Pinkie said, drawing back from the open door. As she did so, her eyes fell upon Applejack's body one last time, and a sort of melancholic regret passed her as she sighed inwardly. But even that faded into the warmth of the light coming from the foyer.
"I lit the way!" Pinkie declared, sweeping toward the other side of the hall. "Light's always a good thing to have in the dark! That way you can see!"
"Of… of course, Pinkie," Fluttershy said, following along, even more confused now.
The leader in pink stopped in the middle of the main room, under the slowly-swinging chandelier of metal, where she stared into the dark hole of the fireplace. Had there been a fire burning, it would have been a more meaningful gesture. But as it was, it seemed as if she were looking at a shadow.
But still, the soft light made the colours mute and the tone a bit more dour. The mood fit the scene, even if the elements did not.
"Fluttershy, I wanna tell you a story before you save me," Pinkie said, the tone of her voice matching the tone of the room.
"I'm not sure that's the–"
"Let me tell you a story."
Pinkie waited, still watching the invisible flames dance in the unlit fireplace. She waited for no reply.
And no reply was given.
And so she continued.
"Once upon a time, in the great land of Equestria, there was a house! A great big house with a great big door and great big dirty windows and great big rooms. It was a wonderiffic house, because of what was inside. Do you know what was inside, Fluttershy?"
"No, I–"
"There were six friends, Fluttershy! Six fantastic, fabulous, pony friends. The best of friends. The most close of friends. Six friends who walked into that house one day, Fluttershy. A wonderiffic house. I think I mentioned this!
"Now, of all these friends, one had a birthday! Well, it wasn't really her birthday, at least not for another week, but there was going to be a big surprise. And the best kind of surprises are the ones you don't see coming! But well, this friend, let's call her Miss Pink, alright? Miss Pink, she knew. She knew all about it! Do you know why?"
"I don't–"
"Because Miss Pink was the best at parties and surprises! She'd done it all, she'd planned it all. There wasn't anything that her friends could say that could trick her! Especially not since the one who was trying to convince her to go was the one who couldn't really lie very well. Let's call her Miss Orange!"
Pinkie tilted her head to one side in thought. Fluttershy watched her from behind, only the back of her bright pink mane visible.
"No… Miss Apple? Because she doesn't farm… well no! But her coat is orange… Ohhhh! How about, let's just call her Miss Orangapple! Well, Miss Orangapple tried to lie, you see. She tried to lie to Miss Pink to get her to go to the house. But Miss Pink knew what was going on.
"It was good that Miss Orangapple decided to tell her the truth in the end, because nopony likes being lied to. Do you like being lied to?"
Fluttershy shook her head. If she answered verbally, she'd probably be cut off again. Best to just be silent, even though Pinkie couldn't really see her from her angle. She was far too busy with the fireplace.
"So once Miss Pink got there, all her friends turned really nasty! Really terrible and awful. Miss White decided to play a prank by hiding in a disgusting costume! Miss Blue decided to drag Miss Pink down a dark hall and give her the shudder-shudders! And Doctor Purple, the great overseer and planner of it all, she stayed in the shadows, pulling the strings, and made sure everything went according to her plan.
"And somehow, they even managed to convince poor little Miss Yellow to participate. Against everything she wanted, even! And Miss Yellow was so sweet and kind, how could she possibly do something so awful? But Doctor Purple put it in her head that what she was doing was good, and Miss Yellow had no choice but to listen.
"In the middle of it all was poor Miss Pink. She was so sad! Do you know how sad she was? Really, really sad. She was confused and hurt. Why would her friends do such terrible things? Why would her friends fight?
"Well, all the fighting made her really troubled deep inside, but that wasn't the only thing that made her confused. Let me tell you about something else! Did you know, Fluttershy? Did you know that Miss Pink had a… super-secret-special power?"
Fluttershy shook her head again.
"She had a sort of sense. It was a special sense that came up once in a while to warn her of terrrrrible things! It made her tail shake and her nose itch, and she knew, when that happened, bad things were coming!
"But while she was being pranked, that sense never came. Oh, Fluttershy, it never came! While she was being scared and bullied and dragged down a hallway, it never happened! It should have happened, but it never happened.
"But then Miss Pink realised why. It never happened because she wasn't in any danger! It was all a harmless prank. And the only thing that got hurt was her heart, and this special ability doesn't warn about the heart!"
Pinkie Pie turned, finally, creaking like a wooden doll as her neck swivelled to look off to the side. In the pale light, Fluttershy caught a glimpse of half of her face through her swirling pink hair. There was an eye, bright and round, lower eyelid twitching around it. There was that smile, the regular one that Pinkie carried around with her, but so wide and so stretched that it looked like someone had taken to her cheeks with a knife. It looked painful, as she smiled at the story, as if the happiness brought her great torment.
"But, Fluttershy, It did happen, once. The feelings came, Fluttershy. Do you know when?"
Fluttershy's mouth hung open. Pinkie had turned, clearly, because she was looking for something. A reaction, perhaps. Maybe for her to speak. Maybe it was finally her turn to speak. But Fluttershy felt the story was not yet over.
The only thing that came to mind was to clear out the details, to approach the story, perhaps. And there was one question worth asking.
"When… when did you–"
"Miss Pink!"
"–Miss… Miss Pink get that… feeling?"
"A good question! A good question indeed!" Pinkie's head snapped to the front once again. "And one that is part of the story! For you see, the feelings came not during the prank, but before the prank! It happened when Miss Pink first entered the house! Right as she stepped into the front door.
"It happened so suddenly that she didn't know how to react, you see, and it was a combo that she had never, ever, ever felt before! It was a combination of many twitches, and shakes, and bumps, and rumblings, so many, so fast, that she had no idea what it meant!
"Oh, poor Miss Pink! She was really confuzzled at that moment. She didn't know what was going to happen, and she didn't know how to react. Maybe she should have told her friends! Maybe she should have said something!
"But she kept quiet. Do you know why?"
"Wh–" Fluttershy started and stopped.
"Because she trusted her friends! Because… because she loved her friends," Pinkie said with a smattering of bitterness. "Being with her friends made her feel good. That was the only reason. Friends were everything to her. Friends made her happy. Even though she knew something strange was happening, Miss Pink only joined in because she knew it might make her friends delighted! And all Miss Pink wanted was for her friends to feel good, because that made her feel good.
"But what her friends had planned for her didn't feel so good, did it? No. It didn't. In fact, it felt awful! Like a cold shower on a cold day, or a cold sandwich, or a cold breeze. I dunno, something cold! It felt pretty cold, Fluttershy! It felt cold.
"And then after the prank, the friends argued. Miss Pink was angry that her friends had hurt her feelings, and Doctor Purple was being a meanie mean-face. So, Miss Pink decided to go away and be by herself. It was so unlike Miss Pink! Even Miss Pink had no idea what caused her to suddenly leave, but it was like…
"It was like something in her head was whispering to her, Fluttershy. It was really strange and creepy. It's hard to describe! It was like her thoughts were trying to guide her, but it wasn't really her thoughts, but they were her thoughts, but they weren't, and… and…
Pinkie tilted her head off to the side, trying to find the right way to phrase this. Fluttershy felt that she knew exactly what she was talking about.
"But, Pinkie… you–"
"Miss Pink was left alone in the room, Fluttershy," Pinkie continued, "and in that room she cried, Fluttershy. She cried that everything was going sour like bad grapes. She was so sad that she was losing her friendship that she would do anything to regain that feeling again. The feeling of closeness and love! She wanted it soooo much, Fluttershy.
"And then she was given a gift. Her sense started to work again! It just turned on, without warning! But it felt different this time. It didn't cause her body to shake or move or wiggle. It caused her heart to glow. It now gave her those feelings that she had so desperately wanted.
"And these new feelings felt… good! You know how it feels to take a big gulp of Mrs. Cake's choco-delicious hot cocoa drink? Or to win at a board game? Or to just have friends over for a party? It's like that! It's happiness and love and joy all wrapped up in one, and Miss Pink felt it. Riiiiight here."
Pinkie prodded herself in the chest.
"So, Miss Pink decided to watch the others through a hole in the door. I think they call it a keyhole! It's for keys! And she listened closely. She heard what happened and what words were said, and those feelings were telling her to get closer. They were leading her to something, but Miss Pink didn't know what! So she had to try to find out!
"So, Miss Pink decided to leave and try to find out what was causing the feelings! But do you know what happened? She ran into Miss Orangapple! Well, actually, Miss Orangapple ran into her. She entered Miss Pink's room, and didn't see Miss Pink hiding behind the door. Miss Pink didn't feel anything coming from Miss Orangapple, so she knew that Miss Orangapple wasn't the one that caused the feelings."
Pinkie held a hoof to her chin and nodded, sagely, wisely – the sign of someone thinking deep and coming to conclusions.
"But something told Miss Pink that Miss Orangapple would only interrupt her! So this is what Miss Pink did!" Pinkie continued.
"While Miss Orangapple was fooling with her bags, Miss Pink snuck out and shut the door. Just to be safe, she stuck a broomstick that she found in the room through the handle so that Miss Orangapple couldn't get out. It was for the best."
Pinkie nodded.
Fluttershy just kept listening. Was there anything else to do at this point? Clearly, Pinkie Pie wanted to tell this story to her, and although Fluttershy didn't understand most of it, she politely paid attention. There was always time to save her later.
"So, Miss Pink took the lantern from the main room, a room that looked strangely a lot like this room we're standing in now, and followed Miss Yellow, who had gone to Doctor Purple's room to check on her. And the closer she got, the better the feelings got, too!
"The feelings, Fluttershy. It felt so good. It felt like her brain was being jumped on by a thousand parasprites! It felt like her body was being tickled by a huge fluffy bear. It felt so good. Her friends were making her feel good again. And that was exactly what she wanted!
"And the feelings got better and better. It just grew and grew until… well, something happened! But just as it was getting superiffic, it stopped! Miss Pink was angry. She had to look in to see, but then she saw Miss Yellow staring back at her, so she decided to leave. She left the lantern there because she was so annoyed, but then a new tickle started and she decided to follow it."
Fluttershy's memory went back, back to the room. She had seen a figure in the doorway, and then there was the lantern that was left there...
"And at that moment, Miss Pink knew. She knew exactly what the source of these new feelings was. Can you guess, Fluttershy? Can you? Guess!"
Fluttershy remained silent, which in itself was an answer.
"Guess, Fluttershy!" Pinkie repeated, with her sing-song tone.
Fluttershy didn't speak.
"I said guess!" Pinkie squealed. But she squealed with a tinge of hate. A tinge of anger. There was something incredibly nefarious about that squeal.
And Fluttershy, shocked, jolted, quickly opened her mouth to respond.
"Wrong!" Pinkie interrupted. "Stop talking and let me finish the story!"
"Miss Pink saw that Doctor Purple had been punished. Sad Doctor Purple. Naughty Doctor Purple. But Miss Yellow called it saving, and that was weird! But it was okay in the end, because Miss Pink was still kinda upset with Doctor Purple and her silly idea, and she ended up looking like a bunch of candy in the end, with all the colours and twinkling lights! Boy, she sure sparkled brightly! You'd get that joke if you knew her real name, Fluttershy."
Pinkie broke out into chortling fits of laughter, stopping the story for a while.
"And then, and then, Miss Pink just had to follow Miss Yellow after that! And she followed and followed and followed! Miss Pink wasn't really too good at sneaking, and sometimes some of the others saw her, but it was all alright in the end! Because Miss Yellow did a great job and saved everypony! And Miss Pink was filled with the love of all her friends.
"First it was Miss White with her silly costume. Boy, she sure looked pretty in the end! And then it was Miss Blue, who, well, Miss Pink had no idea what happened to her, but it sure looked funny with all the foam coming out of her mouth! It was like she was trying to blow bubbles without a bubble wand!
"And then finally Miss Yellow went to visit Miss Orangapple. But Miss Pink knew, she knew that Miss Orangapple was a pretty strong pony. She was a toughie! Like a nut! A pecan nut or a brazil nut or a walnut or a coconut! Really tough! So just in case, when Miss Yellow went in, Miss Pink put the broom back in the door, just to keep them busy!
"She had to do it. You… you forgive Miss Pink, don't you?"
Pinkie Pie turned yet again, casually regarding Fluttershy with the question. It was asked as one but it sounded more like a command. Still, hiding behind Pinkie's naturally bouncy voice and cheerful pulse, it was hard to tell.
"After all." Pinkie turned her head again. "We're all doing things we have to do, aren't we?"
"We…" Fluttershy muttered.
"Well, that's where Miss Pink's story leads to. Right here." Pinkie motioned to the fireplace. It was the kind of gesture that said, 'come closer. Have a look'.
"While Miss Yellow and Miss Orangapple were doing their thing, Miss Pink had to do one final thing of her own! Because Miss Pink figured out the truth.
Fluttershy stepped forward, lost in the whole tale. Lost in what happened. Lost in everything. She walked in a daze, not thinking clearly about her actions, not thinking smartly about what she should be doing.
"And here's the catch!" Pinkie said, jovially. "Miss Pink knows about pranks! Well, I haven't told you yet, Fluttershy, but do you know what the source of the feelings was?"
Pinkie looked at Fluttershy, who stared back, entranced by the tale. Fluttershy managed a small shake of the head.
"It was you, Fluttershy! It was you! The feelings, Fluttershy, they got stronger when you did something! Whenever you saved one of our friends! And that's just wrong, Fluttershy. That was a nasty, nasty trick. Using feelings to make me get closer to you?
"But that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted me to follow. You wanted me to ignore what you were doing to everypony else. And in the end, you wanted me to walk right up to you.
"You wanted me to beg. You wanted me to get down on my four little knees and beg for you to save me. Just so that I could get those feelings one… last… time.
"But you know what? I know surprises, Fluttershy. And after the prank all of you pulled on me, I wasn't going to be fooled again. It was a silly, naughty trick, and while you and Applejack were busy, I made sure that I wouldn't have to be saved!"
There is a feeling that ponies get sometimes. That sort of feeling when you know that somepony else is watching you from a corner, or when you feel that you've just made a terrible mistake. Fluttershy was feeling it right now.
"Do you know how the story ends?" Pinkie asked, as Fluttershy stood wearily next to her. Clearer now, was the sight of something inside the fireplace. Something metal and cylindrical. Something with a gaping maw and a large silent hole. A silent hole from which a roar was about to take place, with the strength and viciousness of a lion.
"Miss Pi–nk pulled this stri–ing," Pinkie sang, holding up a length of rope.
Fluttershy traced the rope back from Pinkie's hoof to the floor, where it winded its way across the marble into the fireplace, to the back of the cannon.
"O..oh," Fluttershy muttered.
The lion roared.
A blistering, blustering shower of light and shards of things grazed the air, a scattering of bits and bobs and anything that Pinkie could find in the kitchen. She never went anywhere without her party cannon, and this time it held much more than the innocent pie or the wayward streamer.
It contained the pantry, the drawers, the counter-top items, and the things sticking out of the cutlery holder. It contained pepper-shakers and salt-mills and rolling pins and cookie cutters. It contained spatulas and glass mixing bowls and egg timers and milk pots.
It contained whatever she decided would do the job.
Just to be safe, Pinkie put in everything.
From then on, it was hard to tell which parts of the pile belonged to the kitchen and which belonged to Fluttershy.
Pinkie didn't look.
And in her mind she felt the sensations she was having slowly ebb out. It was a necessary action. And now, once again, she was left with nothingness.
And in that nothingness the mist came.
Rushing in like a flood, a red cloud swept through the entire house, covering Pinkie and swallowing her up. It blocked her sight, and filled her nose and mouth, causing her to choke and cough and sputter.
It came in the second that the fifth had fallen.
In a few moments it was gone, fading out as suddenly as it had arrived.
And when it left, it had taken all of itself with it.
Every final piece.
It was almost like turning a light on in Pinkie's mind. It was so sudden, so jarring, that Pinkie felt her entire world fall sideways, gravity dragging her to the left and right in a tug of war between her emotions and thoughts.
Her jaw hung open, her knees felt like they would give way, and the beating of her heart was so loud in her ears that she wanted to scream for it to stop.
The places in her mind that the mist plugged up like putty over a crack were open once again, and there was nothing left but the truth, the truth and reality to come pouring in. With clarity returning and control regained, Pinkie struggled to comprehend the day's events, her brain failing to be able to come up with a satisfactory answer.
For the realisation of what had happened, for the knowledge of what had been done weighed so heavily in Pinkie's hooves that she stood there, on the floor, for a great number of minutes, unable to move a single inch.
And when she finally did, all that was left for her was a birthday cake on the floor.
'Happy Birthday Pinkie Pie', it read.
She read it. Then again. And a few hundred times more. All of it a big joke. All of this the real prank.
She burst out laughing.
This was the best prank ever!
She laughed.
And laughed.
And there she stood.
Laughing.
Laughing until her stomach ached and the tears poured down in one continuous line.
Laughing until her fits were indistinguishable from blood-stained coughs.
Laughing until her heart shrivelled upon itself, unable to handle all the happiness she had.
Laughing.
Until the house was filled will the sounds of joy.
And in Pinkie's mind, she heard them all join in.
Twilight Sparkle.
Rarity.
Rainbow Dash.
Applejack.
Fluttershy.
All chorused in with their laughter, the hearty congratulations of having seen this joke through, and now, now they could all gather 'round and have some cake.
Happy Birthday Pinkie Pie.
And Pinkie Pie knew that everything was going to be just fine.
Epilogue -And There Upon the Hill Rested The House
There is a tale of six ponies who walked into a house one day; a tale that they all tell in Ponyville; A tale of things that happened oh so very long ago.
A tale about six who walked in one day to meet something that they did not expect.
And a tale of one who walked back out.
A pony who wore a curious expression. A pony who carried a heavy weight.
This was a tale of a pony who stood at the crossroads between safety and danger. Between hope and despair. Between life and death.
To the left of her was a path that rode through the sunbeams and the leaf-scattered dales that held the warmth of home.
To her right was a path that led deep into the heart of the forests that leeched the life out of all things and beheld dangers that no pony ever wished to face.
And this is a tale of the pony who stood there for a very long time, thinking about things, musing about life, wondering about existence.
And this is a tale of the pony who turned right.
And walked.
A long walk.
A brazen walk.
A walk consciously chosen.
Some say she hoped to find what she had lost in the forests deep.
Some say she wished to rejoin her friends in the only way she knew how.
Some say she had been waiting so long that she had given up on everything else.
Some say she just got lost.
But whatever the reason, the story ends and begins with the six who walked in.
And the one who walked out, with a smile on her face.
