Sitting in the passenger seat of the heavily-modified golf vehicle, Sunset watched Ernest peck at the keyboard built into the cart. The teenager considered herself pretty tech savvy, but she did not comprehend anything the redneck was doing. It looked like the custodian was just punching in random numbers, letters, and symbols. The monitor was lit up, and on it was a picture of the “Have a Nice Day” smiley face. And maybe it was just Sunset’s imagination but it seemed that the more gibberish Ernest punched in, the broader the smile became. All the while Ernest muttered to himself while he typed.
“Alrighty. We’re almost there. Carry the ones and zeroes, divide by the hypotenuse of a hippopotamus, multiply by y, m, c, and a. Annnnd . . ,” Ernest paused and frowned. He looked over at Sunset and asked, “What’s your favorite color?”
Sunset was caught completely off guard. “Uh, orange. Why do you ask?”
Ernest nodded. “Orange is a good color. Willie will be warm, outgoing, and assertive. An orange personality will clash well with his green down-to-earth personality I picked out for him. Best of both worlds, ya know what I mean?”
The teenager frowned. “Ernest, are you sure it’s a good idea to give your robot a personality based on colors? Can’t you program Willie based on something more . . . concrete?”
The troll fighter gave Sunny a patronizing look. “Ah, Sunny, I was like you once; so full of questions, and wet behind the ears. But trust me. Old Ernest knows what he’s doing.”
After a few more keystrokes, Ernest cracked his knuckles. “There. Willie is ready to go.” Before hitting the Enter key, he paused. “We should probably get out of these seats.” After exiting the vehicle, Ernest leaned forward and pushed the desired key.
Ernest and Sunset stood back and waited expectantly. The lanky janitor rubbed his palms together with a big nervous grin on his face, while the teenager considered diving behind the work bench. But nothing happened. And as the seconds turned into minutes, nothing continued to happen.
“Ernest . . .”
“Any second now,” replied the custodian. But he did not sound confident.
As time marched on, Ernest thought about what he’d done wrong. Suddenly he clapped his hands together and shouted, “That’s it!”
The janitor’s outburst caused Sunset to jump out of her seat. “What? What’s it?”
“Willie needs an energy transfer to get goin.’ I can’t believe I forgot that. I can’t expect him to get started on his own. He’s just a baby after all.”
Sunset nodded. “That makes sense actually. So what do you need, a battery and jumper cables?
“Naw. Just hand me that hammer.”
Sunset did as she was told and handed Ernest a ball-peen hammer. “What are you going to do?”
Ernest opened the engine compartment. “Well, it’s a delicate process requiring the precision of a master surgeon combined with the knowhow of a journeyman mechanic. Observe.” Without further ado, Ernest licked his hammer as if it was a piece of thread about to be placed through an eye of a needle. He then began bashing the golf cart’s power supply as hard as he could. After the fifth blow, the robot began to hum with power.
Grinning like a mad man, Ernest shut the compartment and stood back with Sunset. The teenager could not believe what she was seeing. Before her eyes, the golf cart began to transform. When the metamorphoses was completed, the robot stood as tall as Ernest. The machine stumbled forward on legs that ended in wheels. After nearly falling, the robot righted itself by flailing its hydraulic arms. Then in a very human gesture, the automaton smacked the monitor which was serving as its head. It did this a couple more times until the white and grey interference had cleared. The yellow smiley face image was now fully visible on the monitor and was sporting a newsboy cap. “Jaysus, it’s aboot bloody time.”
Despite knowing where the booming electronic voice was coming from, Sunset yelped in surprise.
Turning to the source of the noise, the golem fixed the teenager with an apologetic look. The yellow smiley face grinned shyly and said, “Oh, pardon me, lassie. Me squawk box is on the fritz. Let’s see if we can do a wee something aboot that.” The small bulldozer blade embedded in Willie’s chest flipped down and produced the key board.
Sunset stared at the once quiet golf cart as it ran a self-diagnostic. In a subdued voice she asked, “Ernest, how in Celestia’s name did you do this without magic?”
As if in an interview, Ernest replied happily, “Well, Sunny, I owe all of my smarts, knowledge, wisdom, and intellect to my good friends Vern, the Tulip brothers, and my third grade teacher who told me I never knew when to quit. I would like to take this moment to not only thank them but all of the people who helped me along the way.” The redneck began to point to people only he could see. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you, Sunset Shimmer.”
“What? I had nothing to do with . . .”
“Ah, thar’s the little bugger. I’ll just crank this doon a few disables.” A few moments later Willie said in a much quieter voice. “Testing, testing. ‘Step up and play,’ each machine seemed to say as I walked roond and roond penny arcade. Right, that sounds much better.”
Sunset shook her head in continued disbelief. She had a million questions going through her head all at once. And out of all of them she chose to ask, “Why does he talk like that? Did you give him your Camelot voice?’”
Ernest beamed at the teenager. “I’m so glad you asked.” Grabbing a nearby chalkboard, the troll fighter began to draw erratically. “Here’s what’s goin’ on. The orange and green personality programs are trying to convert Willie’s posotronic brain accelerator, because once either side takes the accelerator, they’ll spread to the rest of his brain. The brain is the high ground if you’re a military buff. To stop the conflict from corrupting his nervous system, Willie activated his flux capacitor and chose aspects from both personality colors, and what you see is what he chose. Kind of like a psychological ceasefire, ya know what I mean? And yeah, I might have sneaked my Camelot voice into his programming.” Ernest was drawing so fast the chalk exploded in his hand.
The redneck winced. “Oh, I hate that sound. It kind of reminds me of this.” Ernest was about to draw his fingernails across the chalkboard when Sunset yelled, “Okay! Okay! I get it! Just please don’t do that.”
At this point Willie made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat. “Oi. According to me log files, ye want me to pretend to be you for tonight.”
Ernest nodded. “That’s right, Willie. Can you handle that?”
The robot scoffed, “Is the Pope Catholic?” Both Willie and Ernest laughed at the inside joke. “But we got a wee bit of a problem, boyo. Won’t Cranky be a mite suspicious if he sees a strong, silver, and handsome devil like meself pushing a mop aroond the academy? That might raise a few alarm bells, don’t ye think?”
Ernest rubbed his chin in thought. “What if we gave you a costume? Maybe we could disguise you as a remote controlled trash can.”
Willie was silent for a few seconds as he processed what he just heard. “If there wasn’t a lady present, I’d tell ye what I really think about that.”
Before Ernest could make another costume suggestion, Sunset spoke up. “Maybe I could help disguise you.”
“What’d you have in mind, lassie?”
Sunset grabbed a nearby ruler. “Just hold still. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, and it might feel a little weird.” Swirling the impromptu wand through the air, Sunset gathered magic to the end of the ruler until a turquoise ball of energy had formed. She then pointed the ruler at the robot, and the turquoise ball leapt forward. The change was immediate and nearly flawless.
Ernest inspected the teenager’s handy work and said, “Sunny, it’s like looking into a metal mirror.”
A few hours later
An old lady with a walker and neck-brace slowly made her way forward. She paused to pull her white shawl closer to her body. While she did so, she noticed the large filled-in hole behind the Canterlot High statue. She sighed to herself. “It’s a shame my niece doesn’t get paid for being a delinquent. She could then afford to move out of my house and pay back all that money she stole from me. Oh well, ‘the first one hundred years are the hardest,’ my dear mother used to say. I pray she’s right because the next hundred don’t look promising.”
The crone tottered onward. She spied a teenager dressed in a white wig and a grey-powdered school uniform standing by herself. Sunset Shimmer did not look happy waiting there on her own. Many of the other students were giving her hostile looks as they filed into the school. She looked at the faces that streamed by, searching for someone in particular.
“Hello, my dear. You look about as thrilled as I feel after a visit to the dialysis clinic.”
Sunset turned to see an old lady leaning heavily on a walker. She frowned, “Hello ma’am. Uh, can I help you?”
The elder covered her heart in surprise. “What’s this, a youth with manners? I thought your kind died out years ago. Where’s a reporter when you need one? This is the find of the decade. Yes, in fact you can help me. I’m looking for my niece. She’s tall, has red and yellow hair for reasons I know not why, dresses like a lady of the evening in the daytime, and has caused more damage to this school then a politician with a good idea. Her name is Sunset Shimmer. Have you seen her?”
Sunset stared at the woman for several seconds before it dawned on her. She smiled and said quietly, “Ernest, your disguise and acting is amazing. You had me fooled there for a minute. You remind me of my real aunt back in Equestria. She makes me feel uncomfortable, too.”
Ernest bowed his head. “Why thank you, my dear. Your specter costume and makeup is well-crafted also. It reminds me of my dead son, Hymie. That is the exact same shade of grey his face was before they nailed shut his coffin lid.”
“You can drop the a--,” the teenager caught herself. “Never mind. For tonight you’re my aunt. Mr. Cranky is here, and if he finds out you’re at the festival, you could get fired. Where’s Willie?”
“Ah yes, my build-a-son. Your cousin promised me that he would clean the academy from top to bottom and be as quiet as a church mouse taking a vow of silence. We’ll have to see about that. The last time I trusted a machine with this much responsibility was my toaster back in 1959. That trust was misplaced apparently. One minute I am having breakfast, and the next I’m watching everything I own go up in flames.”
Sunset straightened her ghost-gray school uniform. “I’m sure he’ll do a good job.” The troubled teen sighed and smiled at her friend. “Well, I’d better find the girls and get ready. I’m glad you’re here, Aunt . . . uh . . .”
“Auntie Nelda, my dear.” Dropping the act for a brief moment, Ernest placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder and whispered, “No matter what happens tonight, you’ll still have me in your corner. Go get em, Sunny. I’m proud of ya.”
Without warning, Sunset hugged the disguised redneck right there in front of everyone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Earlier
“Rabuf. Brother. I am going to ask you to do a very hard thing. Maybe the hardest thing you’re ever going to do in your life. But the future of our race is now in your hands. I need you to concentrate and pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.” The younger troll had listened and did not like what he was about to do. He sighed to himself, put his hands behind his back, and as nonchalantly as possible began whistling when he entered the rear of Mr. Rich’s booth.
The troll could hear his employer’s loud voice over the crowd of doll buyers. “Now don’t go away, folks. The figurine-maker will be back any minute now. Uh, can I interest any of you in zap apple jam, or some candy bits, or . . .?” The pony’s ears perked up when he heard the loud creak of the back door opening. “Just a second friends. I’ll be right back. I think the goose that lays the wooden dolls is back.” This announcement prompted a loud cheer from the festival goers.
Disappearing from behind the counter, Filthy confronted his M.I.A employee. “Where the hay have you been? I got customers lining up from Mane Street to Stable Blvd to buy our dolls and you disappear on me. I’ve fired ponies for taking half the break you took.”
Rabuf shrugged. “Sorry about that, boss-oposs. My bro caught up to me, and we talked about some pretty deep-heavy stuff. I mean this is the kind of stuff you’d think about when you’re bench pressing a tombstone with your name on it at the bottom of a well filled with honey.”
The pony blinked. “What in Celestia’s name are you babbling about? Just make some more bucking dolls. Okay?”
The troll nodded. “Yeah, we talked about that, too. How many dolls we have left?”
“None. We’ve sold out. We got three foal-sized dolls on layaway underneath the counter, but they’ve already been spoken for.”
Rabuf scratched at his belly and looked at the Colt. “Boss, you’re the best opossum I’ve ever known. I’ll name a troll after ya.”
Before the pony knew what was happening, he was a small doll in the troll’s hand. Pocketing his new acquisition, Rabuf pulled back the curtain that separated the two rooms. He was greeted by a cheering mass of ponies. The troll smiled back nervously as he addressed the crowd. “Hi, poynays. This is some night we’re having, huh?”
A unicorn shouldered her way through the crowd. “Please! Has anypony seen my son? I haven’t seen him since I bought this doll.”
Rabuf gulped. While maintaining eye contact with the crowd, he desperately searched underneath the counter for the three wooden foals. “Uh, have you checked the local opossum bone yard? He might be there.”
“I haven’t seen my grandparents either. But these dolls look just like them. What’s going on?” Another pony yelled.
The ponies that had been cheering moments before started to talk amongst themselves.
“Didn’t Lyra say something about this guy being a magic troll?” asked a pegasus.
“Yeah, I heard that too. She said he was turning ponies into dolls,” answered an earth pony.
At this point Rabuf’s hands pulled out a paper Nightmare Night candy bag that had the three small figures. And he was none too soon. The troll did not like the looks some of the equines in the crowd were giving him. He was about to try and calm the crowd down again when he saw a familiar-looking mint-green unicorn. The unicorn was sporting a twill cap and a denim vest. She was shouting at a large minotaur. “That’s him. That’s the troll who’s been turning everypony into dolls! Get him!”
Grasping the Filthy Rich figure in his pocket, Rotnart tossed the doll into the crowd. “Here. Someone can have my boss!”
The ponies that had been waiting in line to buy a doll for what seemed like ages, leapt at the troll’s charity. Dozens of ponies pounced on the filthy rich figurine, getting in the way of those that had growing suspicions about the doll maker. Lyra yelled in frustration when she finally reached Filthy’s stand. “He got away!”
“That was the dude?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Jeez, his costume looked just as real as that Ernest guy’s.”
Before Lyra could scream at the D.J. that both the human and the troll were real, the turn-table wizard had an idea. “Hey, Willey, can you throw me up in the air so I can get a picture of where this dude is heading?”
Iron Will looked at his employer strangely and shrugged. “If you want to be tossed, you’re the boss.” With one great heave, the white unicorn shot straight up into the air. Lyra was impressed. It took a long time for Vinyl to come back to earth, but when she did, she was ecstatic.
“Holy Celestia. That was a blast. You should have seen the faces of the weather pegasi when they saw me up there. I’d pay ya just to throw me up in the air.”
“Did you see him?” asked Lyra.
“Yeah . . . I think. I saw a guy on two legs heading towards the Everfree, and he was bookin’ it. There’s also something else goin’ down on the other side of town. I’m pretty sure I saw the princess, Twilight Sparkle, and Twilight’s buds having a throw-down with another two-legged dude. The ponies are kind of freaking out over there.”
Lyra’s heart sank. “If Twilight Sparkle and her friends are over there, they should have everything under control. We got to stop that troll from reaching his tree.”
“His what? Is he crazy or something?” asked the D.J.
“Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Present
“Troll? Troll, can you hear me?” The feminine voice that asked that question sounded very tired and worried.
Slowly, the king regained wakefulness and immediately wished he was never born. It felt like his body had been put through the business end of a garbage truck. “Am I dead? If not, could you kill me, please?”
“I’m sure we can manage something,” replied an angry child’s voice.
“Calm down, Spike,” said the female in a whisper.
The troll would have smirked if he knew his face wouldn’t rip in two if he tried. At least his ears were still working. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. Panicking, the troll yelled, “I can’t see! Oh cruel and merciless Trantor, I’m blind! Just end me now!”
“That salve is from the nectar of the bees. It heals and makes it so you cannot see. Give me a moment or two or three, and I will set your beady eyes free.”
He could feel something sticky being rubbed out of his eyes with a cloth. He blinked. The light was by no means bright, but it stung. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light. The troll looked from face to face. He was surrounded by an alicorn, a zebra, and a little dragon holding a pretty unicorn doll. “Well, let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”
“Please.”
Rotnart looked at the haggard alicorn.
“Change my friends and all those you’ve turned into dolls back to the way they were.”
The troll frowned and said mockingly, “Ahhh, that’s so sad. If I actually gave a $&it, I’d probably try and do something. But, I don’t, so you’re screwed.”
“Really? In that case, I say we grab a funnel and see how much milk you can drink before you explode,” suggested the dragon.
When this was mentioned, the troll took a good look at what was keeping him from leaving. Instead of ropes and chains, he saw a forest of needles stuck in what seemed like every inch of his salve covered body.
“Hold on, Spike. I have a better idea.” Without another word, the princess gathered magic to the end of her horn. Moments later, she let loose the gathered energy in the form of a light-purple mist that surrounded the room.
“What was that?” asked the dragon.
The pony turned to her friend and winked. She faced the troll and asked, “What’s your name?”
“I am Rotnart. I am the King of the future troll nation and spawn of Trantor Double-Nose.” When he was done speaking the troll gaped at the pony. He could not believe he had just said all that.
“Trantor?” Twilight frowned, but then her eyes lit up upon remembering where she heard that name. “You’re the son of the troll from Ernest’s world, aren’t you?”
The pin-cushioned troll didn’t answer.
In his peripheral vision, he saw the zebra mixing up a concoction. Then to the troll’s horror, the brew-mistress poured an entire carton of milk into her caldron. She tasted it and smiled. “Ah, is our guest taking a break? Well, I guess it’s time for a milkshake.” Using a dipper she scooped up some of the white substance into a glass and made her way to the bound troll.
Despite not being able to move, Rotnart felt cold sweat roll down his face and back. It was easier to be brave when you knew you had a ghost-alicorn funneling you dark magic to make ya milk proof. Unfortunately, the Pony of Shadows was no longer providing that kind of support. Before the zebra could pour any of the liquid into his mouth, he screamed. “Okay! Okay damn it! I’ll play ball! Yes, I’m from that cursed Worrell’s world! Just don’t make me drink that!”
When she heard this, Zecora nearly dropped the vial, causing the troll to cry out in terror. Recovering, the brew-mistress looked at Twilight gravely. “We must contact the human Ernest, before our world is cast into the furnace.”
The troll laughed. “Ernest P. Worrell is dead, you stupid cow. He was eaten by a bear almost a week ago.”
Ignoring Rotnart, Twilight looked at Zecora’s terrified face. What little control and calm the alicorn possessed was being shaken. She had never seen her cool and collected friend this worked up before. “Why, what’s wrong? Ernest is back home in Canterlot High.”
Zecora swallowed and drew a calming breath. “Years before the human was here, I received a vision most clear. The spirits of zebras past came to me during a fast. They said three would come from the land of misery, but now I know what they really said was Missouri. They will come through a magic door breaching the dimensional floor. One will walk on four legs and the other two, and the last is from the crystal north and evil through and through. A tree he will take and make his throne, and once he does, he will no longer be alone. There is only one that can stop the fallen one, from the town of Briars he will come.”
Twilight’s mouth went dry as she quickly put two and two together. “Sombra’s last surviving troll. He’s back . . . or at least his descendant is. And Ernest is the only one that can stop him.” The pony nodded. “He’s done it before, he can do it again.”
Spike gulped and clung to the rarity doll. “But, we’ve got nothing to worry about now, right? I mean we got him. There isn’t another troll out there, is there?”
Twilight looked at her prisoner. “Well? Are you the last troll? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Rotnart glanced up at the zebra. She was still clutching her homemade treat above his head. “Yeah, I have one brother,” growled the troll.
The alicorn bit her lip and fought down a fresh wave of panic. “How many dolls does he have?”
“I don’t know.”
Zecora menacingly lowered her hooves and started to tip the cup.
“Trantor, damn it! I don’t know! I swear! He was the one selling the dolls back to you ponies. I don’t know how many he has! He’s #$&*ing nuts! For all I know he could be having a tea party with the Pony of Shadows in the Ev--"
“Say another word and you’re dead!” A menacing voice bellowed inside the troll’s head. Rotnart closed his mouth so fast that he could feel his teeth rattle.
The zebra frowned. “It would be a shame if this glass were to spill, and spread all over your nasty grill.” Zecora tipped the glass until the liquid was on the verge of streaming from the container, and then she tipped it a little more until a single drop had fallen.
Time seemed to slow down. The troll could feel the words slipping from his mouth almost on their own accord. He didn’t know if it was the spell pulling the syllables from his throat or the threat of impending death from the milk. But whatever the reason, he could not take the words back after he spoke them. “Everfree Forest!”
The drop landed on Rotnart’s face. The troll screamed in terror for several seconds, but nothing happened. He would have breathed a sigh of relief until he heard the Pony of Shadows say, “I warned you.”
To Twilight and her friends, it was like someone had thrown a switch on the troll. One moment he was awake and screaming his lungs out, the next he was staring up at the ceiling with his eyes and mouth wide open, as stiff as a board.
The alicorn’s eyes widened. “Zecora, you didn’t . . .”
“Twilight you have my word tried and true that I did not put milk in this brew. What happened now I don’t understand, but it was not part of the plan. What I poured from the carton was not milk at all, but something I whipped together last fall.”
Spike waved a clawed hand in front of the troll’s face. “Is he dead?”
Using her magic, the alicorn did her best to diagnose the catatonic troll. “I have no idea. I’m not familiar with troll anatomy. He doesn’t have a heartbeat . . . but I think he’s still alive. For a moment I sensed a dark presence from within him, and then it was gone.”
“Rotnart spoke of the Pony of Shadows; could he have ventured into her dark meadows?” Zecrora wondered out loud.
Twilight shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know. What we do know is there is one more troll still out there. And if he’s turned five foals into dolls and has corrupted a tree, we are in deep trouble.”
“So what do we do?” asked Spike.
“We have to find this troll. Spike, round up every pegasai you can and have them fly over the Everfree Forest. Get the lunar guards to help you. We need to tell them to look for a troll that looks like him,” Twilight said pointing to Rotnart. “And tell them to check to see if any of the trees are sprouting pods . . . or bustle sprouts as Ernest would call them.”
The little dragon nodded hesitantly. “Okay, but that’s a tall order. The Everfree Forest is huge. And they’ll be flying in the dark.”
“I know Spike, but it has to be done. Tell the earth ponies and unicorns to help on the ground, too. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and they’ll stumble upon the troll’s hideout. Tell everypony to travel in groups and to be careful. These trolls are dangerous.”
“Okay. Should I send a letter to the Crystal Empire and tell them what’s going on so they can get Ernest out of Canterlot High?”
Before Twilight could agree, Zecora cleared her throat. “There is no need for that my dragon friend, because Ernest will be here by hour’s end.”
Twilight frowned. “How? He could be anywhere over there.”
Zecora took a breath. “Let me worry about that detail, but I will need your help, or this plan will fail.”
The alicorn nodded. “What can I do?”
The zebra’s voice started to quake. “From you I will need your magic and a mirror to see, you will be my anchor tethered to me.”
Sensing the tremors in her friend’s voice, Spike asked, “What’s wrong, Zecora?”
Smiling nervously she replied, “Nothing is wrong particularly, but what I’m about to do is scary to me.”
Back at Canterlot High
“Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen, and down the mountain side.” Mop in hand Willie sang one of his favorite songs. He wasn’t afraid of someone coming to where he was working. Everyone was on the other end of the school having a good time. It was just him, his mop, and his bucket. Sure he was a robot and could get his work done in a fraction of the time it would take his creator, but he liked how his voice resonated down the halls.
“The Summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying ‘tis you, ‘tis you must go and I must bide.” The space he was currently cleaning was the music room. While singing, he pushed his mop around the desks and chairs until something tripped his ocular sensors. He looked over at the mirror that had been epoxyied on the wall right next to the large dry erase board. Willie could have sworn he’d saw a purplish light emanating from the looking glass. Seeing nothing, he kept on mopping.
“But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow or when all the valley’s hushed and white with sn--.” There it was again. Except this time the light was brighter, and a large crack had formed in the mirror’s surface. The robot raised an eyebrow that didn’t really exist on his face. This was the first time he was seeing himself in the form of his creator. He looked just like his father except dipped in iron grey paint. He had to admit, the lass with the red hair had done wonders with her magic. He admired himself for a few more moments before turning his attention back to the fissure in the mirror. Willie frowned. His heat indicators on his hydraulic arms registered a spike in temperature that was quickly fading. The robot processed this for a minute before withdrawing his hands. He cleared his throat and increased the volume.
“ ’Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow!” The result was immediate and impressive. The mirror imploded to reveal a vortex of swirling violet energy. Overwhelmed by what he was seeing, the robot kept singing.
“Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so!” It was at this point the surprised robot saw a pair of black and white fured hooves reach forth from the mirror and pull him into the unknown.