//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: E.C.I.S Case Files: Mother's Day // by averagewriter //------------------------------// “Mommy, mommy!” a little filly pointed at a brown teddy bear sitting inside a toy store whilst yanking her mother’s mane. “I want one of those! They’re so cute! Can you buy me one, please?” The mother smiled. “Sure, honey, but right after me and your pop go shopping first! Tell me again, what day is it today?” “It’s Mother’s Day!” she jumped. “That’s right!” She tousled her daughter’s mane. “Come on, the mall entrance is just several meters away!” Still, the little one could not divert her eyes away from that teddy bear. It was irresistible. Too bad looking away from where you’re walking has its consequences, because the filly slammed into another mare. “Oof!” The two came crashing down together. “Oh, my!” the mare cried, helping the poor filly up. “Are you okay?!” She rubbed her head. “Yeah, I’m fine...” The mother called out to her from a distance. “Hey, what’s the hold up? Come on, the entrance is just over there!” “Yes, Ma, I’m coming!” She picked up her bag, and hurried back to her mom. The mare whom she bumped stared at the filly as she reunited with her mother. She shook her head as she continued down the walkway, filled with gloom. That gloom soon turned back into anger. It was the second Sunday of May, also known as Mother’s Day. In the town of Ponyville, Mother’s Day is celebrated almost a big event as Christmas. With all the ponies going shopping and giving out gifts and singing songs about mothers, one could think of it as Christmas without snow. They even have a Santa Claus counterpart named Santa Mitera! Everypony during this special day would either be celebrating with their mothers or be celebrating with their mothers. Not for this mare. Guess why? She has no mother. A rarity for the young in Equestria. Let us dive into her life to see why. *** Victim was reported dead by doctors around night time. No definite time can be given due to [scratched out].         Cause of death was initially thought to be because of heart attack. Victim did seem to have all symptoms of a heart attack. It was later proven wrong by Autopsy and the Forensic Team. The attack was not natural; it was caused by a lethal dose of intravenous potassium chloride, a compound used for lethal injections that our forensic and autopsy team found in the bloodstream.         I requested for a further investigation, but the victim’s husband has talked with my director about this case. The director agreed to drop this case and we were called back. My team leader wasn’t so happy about this; he defied the director and continued with the case. That ended him being suspended for a few days. Eventually, the case was finally dropped, completely.     We all regretted having to stop this investigation. This will be the first time where we have to drop such a case.        I regret not doing more for I found out she had a daughter, in fact, two beautiful ones. If I had my way, this case would’ve been solved already. But sadly, writing this is my only way to tell the truth. Today is my last visit to the crime scene and this is my only chance to slip in this paper into the victim’s things, a locket specifically. Hopefully, her daughters find this and know the truth. Meanwhile, I have another case to investigate. Equestria Criminal Investigative Service This was what was written in a piece of paper the purple-furred mare whom the filly bumped was clutching in her hoof. An indignant look was glazed on her face as she speed-walked towards the Ponyville Detainment Center. “How dare they lie to me!” she whispered angrily to herself. Everypony who passed by her immediately steered clear of her; in a time of glee and joy, there was an enraged entity who seemed like she was ready to explode. An old stallion who happened to pass by asked “What’s wrong, young lass?” “Everything,” she replied without stopping. She continued as if she had not even noticed him. “Ha, another young’un in their time of the month again,” he chuckled to himself as she stomped past him. The scary part was that it wasn’t her time of the month yet. It would have been chaotic if it was. A few minutes later, the mare arrived at her destination. The police station was decorated with red and white streamers and balloons signifying the holiday, and a life-sized statue of Santa Mitera sat by the glass door of the building. The entire place was empty except for the single police officer manning the front desk. “Hello, sir,” the mare said as she approached him, acting all friendly. “How are you?” “Hey, lil’ Citrine,” the officer said. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Say,” she added. “Have you heard from my father recently?” “Why? Has he gone missing?” She quickly shook her head. “Oh, no! I was just curious if he had talked to you at all. He has been really quiet these past few years.” “Ah,” he replied. “How’s your sister?” “Not good, she’s in hospital. The doctors who work there says she has a highly contagious and serious disease, and that I’m not allowed to visit her.” The officer bowed his head in. “Hope she gets well soon…” They stayed silent for a moment, until Citrine leaned in closer to him. “I came here to find out about… Mom.” The officer scratched his head in confusion. “Your mom? She died of a heart attack, right?” “Did she die because of that?” “Well, that’s what’s written in her death certificate, right?” Her smile fell, but she tried to keep her anger hidden. “I feel like you’re hiding something, sir.” “Hiding something?” He shook his head rapidly. “No, I’m not! Why are you suddenly interested in her death?” She slammed the piece of paper on his desk. “This,” she said. “I found this inside her old bag.” The officer grabbed the piece of paper, read it for about five seconds, and crumpled the paper up, despite Citrine’s objection. He looked around nervously, before leaning in closer to her. “Look, there’s a reason why we keep silent about this and maybe it’s best you don’t know what really happened. Go back home, Citrine. Go back, make peace with your past, socialize with others-” “You do not tell me how to live my life,” Citrine glared at him, her anger gradually revealing itself. “I will find out whatever happened to her, no matter what happens. You, or anypony else, can’t stop me.” Looking at the unyielding eyes of the mare in front of him, the officer sighed in defeat. “Go visit the old shaman in Everfree Forest. Heard he can communicate with the dead. He’s practically your only hope right now. That’s all I can say to you, Citrine.” “I’m coming back here if that shaman you’re talking about is no use to me,” she threatened him. “You better cough up those police records!” Walking out of the detainment center, her anger suddenly turned to fear. Visit Everfree Forest at this time of the year, that single month where all those nasty creatures emerge from their lairs and find a mate? “No, it is the only way,” she whispered to herself. Shrugging the matter off, she continued to the entrance of the dark, ominous forest. It would be natural for a pony to cringe at the hair-raising melodies these alien creatures sing. In fact, their mating calls sometimes reverberated out of their domain and into Ponyville! It would be no surprise that hardly any buildings are present in the vicinity of Everfree Forest. Who would even stand the unendurable cacophony of random sounds that sounds like it came from the underworld? At least for now, the creatures have calmed. “Alrighty, let’s do this.” After Citrine sang a song her late mother used to sing to her to calm her down, she crossed the border. Swarms of insects greeted her the second she stepped in. Any attempt she made at shooing the insects off failed. Despite the nuisance, she pressed on, ignoring the colossal, filthy, noisy creatures on her face. Fifteen minutes into the trip did she realize going alone was a really bad idea. The insects were still swarming her face, but that was not the only problem. She has already encountered the greatest fear every traveler and explorer could face while doing their jobs: getting lost. Getting lost would be fine if it wasn’t for the dense overgrowth of trees that prevented the sunlight from touching the forest floor. Even worse, the more she traveled, the more she thirsted for water. The problem was that she hadn’t brought water with her before entering. What’s worse was that all the water reservoirs she found were littered with muck and algae. Lights, lights shining everywhere. Citrine never found a suitable water source to quench her thirst and is now desperate for it. Now, her mind has to pay the price. She was never known for her survival skills, and her body seems to demand things like it’s regal. Tired, hallucinating, and barely functioning, she decided to take a break, if sitting on top of a log in the middle of nowhere can be considered a break. “I...I should have thought this through,” she muttered as she looked at a tree that began dancing. “I should have brought somepony with me…” Of course, staring at the so called “dancing” tree was a mistake as it wasn’t a hallucination. Instead, it was the dreaded cockatrice. Feared for being a “living Medusa”, anypony who would be unfortunate to look directly at its eyes would be turned to stone. Lucky for Citrine, she was staring at its back while it was moving. Unluckily for her, the cockatrice soon noticed someone was looking at it. Before the cockatrice can turn around and stare at poor Citrine, something small and round rolled between them, erupting into a puff of smoke. Startled, the creature squawked and flew away. Citrine, on the other hand, weakly looked to where the round object came from. She could faintly see the silhouette of a pony. “What are you doing here?” he called out to her. His voice sounded hoarse and difficult, like an old pony’s. Citrine did not respond. Her vision was swirling, her head was aching, and her ears were ringing. The pony drew closer. He took a good look at the mare’s sunken eyes which were staring blankly into deep space. He walked to her side and leaned near her ear. “Can you hear me?” he whispered. She responded with a slight nod. “Good...good…” He took a step back. “Now, would you kindly tell me why you won't talk?” Citrine weakly smacked her lips with her tongue. “Ah. Well, I got just what ya need.” He opened his bag and took out a small leather water container. He grinned as he handed the container to her. “Drink up, lass.” Hearing the fresh, crashing water inside the container, Citrine snatched the container from his hoof and emptied it into her stomach for a solid fifteen seconds, effectively draining all the contents. “Thank you so much!” She returned the container to the pony. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it!” “No problem,” he responded. “No problem at all!” Citrine scanned the pony from top to bottom. His bleak gray mane and stature gave her a realization. “Wait,” she said. “Are you a shaman?” The pony’s eyes widened. “Why, yes I am! Have you been looking for me?” “Actually, yes, I was.” He stared at her with curiosity. “And why would you be looking for an old shaman  at all?” “You see, I lost my mother at an early age. She stayed at home by herself when me, my older sister, and my father went to Canterlot for a vacation. At that time, she was suffering from some kind of weird fever, so she could not come. My father hired a nurse to keep watch over her every day until he came back. By the time we came back, we were greeted by doctors and police ponies who disclosed the bad news. From what I can remember, they said that she died from a heart attack in her sleep. But, the weird thing about that is the presence of police ponies. Why need them to announce the death of someone who died under natural means?” “Hmm, you were a filly then, yes? I’m surprised you still remember all of this,” the shaman noted. “But why are you curious now?” “As I said, it just didn’t add up. Mom was always healthy and strong, so saying she was sick was...just not right to me,” she responded. “And you only thought of this now because you have grown older, yes?” Citrine nodded. “Can you help me find out what really happened to her?” “Help you I can do but how is the question.” “You’re a shaman, you can contact her with your outworldly magical powers! Please, do it! For me!” He diverted his gaze away from her slightly. “I’m… not in the mood to do so right now.” She was struck with dismay. “C’mon! Please! I just want to know the truth about my mother!” “But, your determination captivates my heart a whole lot, like some flint and steel setting alight a dark, cold campfire. I suppose I can perform a ritual right now.” “Oh my!” She ran towards the shaman and gave him a big hug. “Thank you so very much!” The shaman leads her to a small hut a few minutes away, just big enough for one pony to live in. Beside the hut was a small elevated clearing decorated with candles and some shiny black stones, with a granite slab up front with some cloth and more candles perched on top of it. Citrine recognized this as a ritual platform. He made Citrine sit on a stone bench beside the platform and gave her some food. Afterward, he lit each candle lining the borders of the circular area using flames from a campfire transferred with a small twig. He then placed the twig in his mouth and sat in an indescribable position in the middle of the area. Citrine’s eyes were observing his actions. “I shall commence the ritual right now,” he speaked. “It is wise if you were to stay seated on that bench.” She nodded. “All right, I will now start.” As soon as he said that, he closed his eyes and slammed his hooves on the ground. He started chanting in a language she had never heard before. Suddenly, his body started convulsing. His eyebrows furrowed, and his teeth grit. Citrine could only watch in horror. She could have helped, but she kept her ground, since the shaman instructed her to do so. He let out a loud scream a few seconds later and collapsed. Citrine rushed to him and lifted him up in a sitting position. “A-are you okay?!” she worriedly asked. The shaman coughed and gasped for air. “Y-yes, I am…” “Oh, thank Celestia! Did you speak to her?” “Unfortunately, no. Something is blocking her soul from my grasp.” She bowed her head in disappointment. “Why do you think that was the case?” “I’m sorry, young lady. I’m just a simple old shaman. I cannot fully grasp the definition of the afterlife yet.” “Okay…” She sighed in disappointment. “Don’t look so disappointed, I had tried my best. I know how much you care for your mother but maybe there are things one should not know.” “I...I understand...but,” She let out a quiet sniffle. “What do you mean about knowing things?” “My child, if it’s to make up for failing to contact your loved one, then I might as well tell you directly,” the shaman sighed. “Your mother’s death is not without a reason; her death wasn’t natural. Tell me, who was she when she was alive.” “She...really isn’t that important. She’s like a common town mare, you know, just doing whatever town mares do.” “What did do?” “Well, I guess she sold things...Owned a pretty well-known shop near the town’s center. Wait, how is this supposed to help?” “Everything, my child, for everything she does, from birth to death, can tell a lot about one.” “Honestly...I don’t really know much about her past. She never talks about it; every time I ask her about it, she waves it off and say that it’s not important.” “Ah, a parent hiding something is a bad thing…” The shaman looks into Citrine’s eyes. “It is time to go, young one. Move on with your life, do not dwell in the past. Go home...go home…” She blinked in confusion and folded her ears backwards. “I guess even you will tell me to stop snooping around, huh?” The shaman moved closer to her, “My child, there will come a time where you will discover the truth but now isn’t the time. Do you understand me?” “But I…” -she sighed- “Okay. I’ll go home.” Though Citrine tried hard not to show her disappointment, her eyes said otherwise. A few tears managed to stream down her face and the shaman noticed it. He wrapped his forelegs around her in a comforting embrace, a feeling she desperately needed and so she cherished the moment. “I-I really miss her…” she sobbed. “Are you sure there's nothing you can do?” “I have done everything I can do, my child,” he told her. “Wipe up your tears and let’s go inside. You must be exhausted.” After resting and having a nice snack, Citrine decided to go back home. The sun is about to set and she doesn’t want to wander around the forest in the dark. Sure, she could stay with the shaman for the night but she thought he already did enough for her. And so, the shaman guided her out of the forest and gave her something once they reached the end of Everfree. Citrine looked at the object, a red, glistening necklace. A faded gold locket hung from it with the letter F inscribed on it. “Here’s a little something to make up for your trouble,” the shaman said. “I found this around here a few years back. Could be of more value to you, since I don’t really need nor want this.” Citrine inspected the locket. Rust was evident on the chain, and some scratches were present on the locket itself.  The letter F seemed to reach out to her in a rather unsettling way. “Umm, thank you…” She bowed down in gratitude and put it in her bag. “Now, be safe out there, girl.” And with that statement, Citrine was alone.