//------------------------------//
// Chapter 10: The Edgy Backstory 
// Story: S.B. 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

	By the time Sinnamon made it back to Cranky and Matilda’s house, it had already become quite dark. Their house was a good distance outside of Ponyville, and Sinnamon had already been waylaid by a stop at Twist’s house. She had given him and Scootaloo a nontrivial amount of peppermint candy, and then offered to let Scootaloo and Sinnamon stay there overnight. Scootaloo had accepted, but Sinnamon had declined, largely because he did not want Cranky or Matilda to worry about him but also because he did not think that it was appropriate for a colt to attend a sleepover with fillies. 
When he did return, he found Cranky standing in the frontroom, muttering to himself as he adjusted the lampshade that was on that room’s lamp. 
“Darn lampshade,” he grunted. 
“What’s wrong with it?” asked Sinnamon. 
“I bumped the darn thing when I was getting up and it shifted. Now I can’t get it back to the way it was! It’s either too far that way…” he adjusted it to the left, then tried to move it just slightly, causing it to fall the other way, to the right, “…or it’s too far THAT way! Can anypony not build a lamp anymore? The guy making it probably got a cutie mark in lamping and thought he could just make lamps without any practice. That’s not how it works!” He turned around and looked at Sinnamon. To Sinnamon’s great surprise, he saw that Cranky was completely and utterly bald. That was the first time that he realized that Cranky’s hair was actually a toupee. “What are you doing back here so late, anyway?”
“Why are you waiting up for me?”
Cranky grumbled and sat back down in his chair. “Answering my question with a question isn’t answering it. Let me guess. You were out with some fillies, weren’t you?”
Sinnamon was incredibly surprised. “How did- -how did you- -were you watching?”
“No. I’m old and disgruntled, not an idiot. I’ve seen it before. We used to call Steven Steve ‘the Magnet’. The fillies practically swarmed him. He never seemed all that interested in it, though. Weird.” Cranky shrugged. 
“I think I understand what you meant,” said Sinnamon.
“About Steven?”
“No. About confidence.” He paused. “I feel so much better. Like I could do anything! I apologized to Scootaloo, I got a job, I made friends, I stood up to a bully- -I’ve never done any of that before!” 
“See? I told you you’d figure it out eventually.”
“Yeah,” said Sinnamon. His euphoria fell a little bit. “You did.” He started to walk past Cranky toward the stairs, and Cranky reached for a book that he had been reading- -but Sinnamon stopped. 
“Mr. Donkey?” he said.
“What, kid? Can’t you see I’m trying to read?” He held up the book. “This is Assyrian. Language of the donkeys. It’s not easy to read. Not at all.”  
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Cranky’s expression changed just slightly. “Knew what?”
“What I am. Where I came from. You knew from the start, didn’t you?”
Cranky stared at him for a long moment, then let out a long exhale. “Yeah. I did,” he said. “From the moment I saw you. It was part of the reason why I took you back here. I didn’t know your intentions. I needed to keep an eye on you.” 
“You knew, and you still weren’t afraid of me?”
“Kid, I told you. I was an adventurer. That’s how I first met your kind. Sure, I was a little uneasy, but I know what I’m doing. That, and I could see you’re not like them. Well, a little, but you’re a good kid overall. A solid six out of ten.” 
Sinnamon smiled. His admiration for Cranky was even greater than it had been. Most ponies avoided him for being a ‘Mary-Sue’, but Cranky, knowing what he truly was, actually had a reason to stay as far away from  him as possible- -and yet he had stayed and offered so much help.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For everything.” 
With that, Sinnamon left the living room and stepped into the darkness beyond. 

The night air was chilly, but growing pleasant as spring slowly passed into summer. Sinnamon sighed and closed his eyes, allowing the breeze to pass through his poofy brown mane. He then opened his eyes and looked out at the view from Cranky and Matilda’s roof, at the gardens below and the shingles he had helped Cranky install, and the trees beyond. He could even see the lights of Ponyville twinkling in the distance. Next to him and slightly higher was a familiar large cat.
Sinnamon sighed and then turned to the cat. “It’s time, isn’t it, Koshka?”
The cat said nothing, as it was a cat, but Sinnamon understood that it was in agreement.
Indeed, the time had come. He had been putting it off for a long time. Since the beginning, even. Never had he thought that he would ever be able to do what he truly needed to accomplish to be free, once and for all. For the longest time, he had assumed it was simply beyond his capacity. Now, though, he knew that he could do it. He could face his past.
Next to him, balanced on the peak of the roof, was a mail beacon. It looked something like a lantern. After a long pause during which he sat deep in thought, Sinnamon finally reached for the small door on the font of the lantern. He pushed it open, revealing the freshly baked muffin inside. Sinnamon was not especially good at making baked goods that were not cinnamon rolls, but his muffins were still adequate, and he allowed the smell of the confection to waft out onto the breeze. 
It did not take long for the muffin to take effect. There was a sound through the trees of something fleshy striking boughs of needles and leaves, accompanied with a number of various cries of surprise. Eventually, perhaps ten minutes after Sinnamon had opened the beacon, a gray Pegasus mare came to a crashing landing on the roof, tearing up several shingles as she went. 
“Great,” said Sinnamon. “I’m going to have to fix that.”
“Muffin?” she said, sitting up, her mismatched yellow eyes scanning independently of each other. “Muffin? Muffin? Where’s the muffin?” Her nose sniffed the air, and she smiled, finding her way to the beacon. She poked her snout in and quickly devoured the muffin, wrapper and all. When she was done, she turned to Sinnamon Bun. She smiled, and Sinnamon recognized her as the very first mare who he had met in Ponyville. 
“Here,” he said, giving her a letter that he had previously prepared. The address on the front was written as cleanly as he was able, although that was the only piece of writing in Equestrian that the entire note contained. “I need you to deliver this.” 
The mare nodded, then took the letter in her mouth and flew into the night. It had been done, and there was no way to take it back. When she got to her destination, Sinnamon would have to face the consequences. He watched the mare leave- -and crash into at least one tree- -and then got up. There were many things he would need to do before they arrived. 

Cranky had been asleep when hid dreams suddenly became much darker. Normally, they were quite ordinary: he would dream about pulling carts or reading the newspaper, or perhaps eating dry white toast. This time, though, he was filled with visions of his past adventures. Not the glorious, epic, impressive ones, but the ones that had not gone well. The ones where friends of his had gotten  hurt, and where he had done things that he had not been proud of. In the dreams, he saw shapes moving in the darkness, and felt his hooves sinking into the mud below him. The shapes were not clear, but occasionally he would see a flash of red inside the black- -until he froze in fear, faced with a sudden surge of neon color that emerged from the darkness, itself barely concealing the snarling teeth beneath.
He woke up suddenly and in a colt sweat. His knee felt as though it were on fire. The feeling that he had felt in his sleep had not gone away, though. It was like a bad smell. Not quite rotting, exactly, but something just a little off. It was the same smell that seemed to follow Sinnamon around. It was comparatively weak for him, of course, but now it had grown much stronger.  
“Shadowmancers,” he whispered.  

Matilda awoke to a strange sound, and immediately rolled over, intending to embrace her husband. All she found, though, was a surprising amount of cold sweat.
“Cranky?” she said, sitting up. She looked across the room to see him standing near the window, lit by nothing more than a candle. The sound had been him rummaging through the closet, and Matilda saw a large box on the floor. It had been one of Cranky’s possessions that she had never asked about, nor had he volunteered information concerning it. Matilda had never known what was in that box. Now, though, she knew what it had contained. 
Cranky, having noticed her, turned toward her. He was dressed in a strange kind of armor. It was well worn, but still impressive: the main body of it was made somewhat in the style of a rogue, but it had been augmented with what appeared to be the metallic remnants surplus Assyrian armor- -including a left rear portion with an arrow-sized hole directly through the knee plate. 
“Oh my,” said Matilda, getting out of bed. “Doodle, what is that?”
“Armor,” said Cranky, putting on the armor’s helmet. 
“Well, I can see that! But why in Equestria are you putting that on?”
“They’re here,” said Cranky, adjusting a plate-armor pauldron on one side. He was not as young as he had once been, and his former adventurer armor did not fit as well as it once had. 
“Who’s here?”
“The Shadowmancers.”
“Is that supposed to mean anything? Cranky, you’re not making any sense!”
Cranky looked into his wife’s eyes, and she immediately knew that something was wrong. “S.B.’s people,” he said. “They’re here. Not close. Not yet, anyway. Most likely scouting the edge of the town. Then, most likely, they’ll go for the streetlights.”  
“How do you know this?”
“It’s a long story, and it involves an injury with a Morgul blade.”
“But- -we need to call the militia! Or the Princess!”
“They won’t be able to do squat. They don’t know how to deal with this. I do.” Cranky moved to step past Matilda, but she stopped him.
“Who? What are you talking about, Cranky? Please, I have to know. I know there’s a lot of things you don’t like to talk about. From before. But I don’t like you keeping secrets from me.”
Cranky looked at his wife for a moment, and then sighed. “They’re demons. From Tartarus.”
“Demons?” gasped Matilda. “You mean like Spiny V.?”
“A little,” said Cranky, taking a moment to recall the Tartaran demon who then sent Hearth’s Warming cards to every year. “But not really. They’re not the same kind of demon. They’re more…”
“What? WHAT? More powerful? More dangerous?”
“…more annoying.”
“Annoying?” Matilda looked consumed. “What does that even mean?”
“It means they’re not powerful. At all. They’re actually really, really weak. About as weak as ponies. Who never go to the gym. And never gosh-darn stop talking.” 
“So, then, why the armor?”
“Just because they’re a joke doesn’t mean that…well…” Cranky paused, trying to explain himself. “They’re not good news. Their like the Trixie of demons, but they’re still demons. And they can be sneaky.”
“You’re worried about S.B., aren’t you?”
Cranky did not answer, but Matilda did not need him to. 
“It’s my fault,” he said. “I kept him here too long. Now things could go really, really bad. I’m sorry, Matilda.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“I’m married,” he said. “I’ve settled down. I didn’t think I’d have to put this armor on ever again. I kept it as a souvenir. A family heirloom, even. I just…well…feel bad.”
“The only thing you should feel bad about is never telling me you had this.” Matilda leaned to the side and stared at where Cranky’s cutie mark would have been if he was a pony. “It looks…most excellent on you.” She giggled a little and blushed. Cranky smiled. 
“You really think so?”
“A knight in shining armor? What jenny doesn’t want one all to herself?” She leaned forward and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Go. Do what you think is best. I trust you. Just please, PLEASE try to be careful. You may look like a strapping young jack in that armor, but, well…”
“I know. I’m old. And bald. And fat, apparently. I’m pretty sure I’m stuck in this armor right now.”
“Don’t worry,” said Matilda. “After you go out and save the town and S.B.? I’ll help you take it off. With lots of butter.” 

Shadows began to gather on the edges of Ponyville. Most ponies had already gone to bed, and the few that were awake likely dismissed the strange dark mist entering the streets as a mistake by the weather Pegasi. A few of them, though, might have looked out and for just a moment thought that they saw something moving in the darkness beyond the trees, or a strange flash of red on the verge on the Everfree Forest. 
When the streetlights started to go out, more ponies started to awake. They were not sure why they had been aroused from sleep. It may have been the feeling of dread that washed over them, or the odd scent of what many of them perceived as cheap and expired cologne wafting through the streets. 
On the edge of town, a group of ponies assembled. Their leader stood in silence as her vanguards returned to her, silently signaling what they had found in the city. Then, together and in complete shadow and silence, they began to move into the village.
Few were awake to see them as they passed through the streets, at least at first. Until they finally came to two unfortunate souls: a pair of militia ponies tasked with night watch. 
The ponies, at first, did not notice what was going on. Then they looked into the darkness, peered for a moment, and started sqealing like little fillies. 
“It’s an infestation!” cried one of them.	
“I told you! I TOLD YOU it would lay eggs!” 
Then, screaming, they both started running. 
“That’s…not the response was expected,” said one of the dark ponies.
“Close enough,” shrugged another. 
They continued forward, intending to bring their reign of darkness to the entire town until they found and retrieved their target. They barely got twenty steps, though, when they were suddenly faced by a different figure. This one did not run. The figures stopped, all of them consumed by the presence of an armored donkey standing in the middle of the street. 
“I don’t want to fight you,” he said. “I’m arthritic and old, and my back is so bad that it makes Pinkie Pie look stable.” 
The Shadowmancers did not answer. Not at first, at least. Instead, they just eyed the donkey suspiciously, wondering who would dare impede their progress. 
Almost all of them looked identical. Every one of them was black with identical red stripes and identical manes, and they all had the same heterochromia: a red eye on their left, and a blue eye on their right. They looked, essentially, like adult versions of S.B. before he had been dyed. The only difference apart from their greater size was that each of them wore a sheathed katana at his side. 
The only one among them that was different was their leader. She maintained the largely red and black color scheme and she had the same three horns and batlike wings. The difference, though, was that instead of red and black her tail and mane were fluorescent and rainbow-colored. The very tips of her wings also seemed to carry the same effect, and she had an unusually complex cutie mark that consisted of a rainbow-colored sword surrounded by two lines of thorns and a skull. She seemed to be the least happy that Cranky was standing in her way. 
“I…remember you,” she said. “If I recall, you broke my heart once. Move, donkey, before I break yours.” 
“You can try, Divine Aurora” said Cranky. “But just because you’re female doesn’t mean I won’t give you a whupping if it’s what I have to do to protect my home.” 
By this time, other ponies had started to leave their houses and gather in the street. This was not a good situation; Cranky knew that the more ponies that were in range of the Shadowmancers meant the more ponies that were at risk of injury if this turned into an all-out fight. 
The female Shadowmancer sighed. “Fine, then. We’ll do this the hard way. You shall feel the wrath of your superiors, and lament at our power and glory as we- -”
“Don’t bother,” said a rather annoyed voice. A small pony pushed through the crowd and paste Cranky. 
“Sinnamon!” hissed Cranky as the small pony walked past him. “Stay back! They’re here to take you back, and I don’t want this to come down to violence, but I’m not going to let them take you.”
“They’re not going to take me,” said Sinnamon. “And they’re here because I called them.” He stepped forward unhindered and faced the female Shadowmancer. 
She looked down at him for a moment, then up at Cranky. “What is this?” she asked. “You send a child to fight me? Are you such a coward? Do not think that I am even capable of pity!”
“It’s nice to see you too, mother,” said Sinnamon. 
Divine Aurora looked down suddenly and her eyes widened. “Shadow Obsidion Bloodfang?” she said in horror. She rushed forward with surprising speed and wrapped her sun in a tight hug. She then held him away from her, shaking, and lifted his hair, trying to find his horns. 
“By the Unclean Goddess!” she cried, looking up at the crowd. “My son! You mutilated him!” 
“They didn’t mutilate me, mother,” said Sinnamon, pushing himself away. “And I’ve renamed myself. ‘Shadow Bloodfang’ is a really dumb name. I’m Sinnamon Bun now.”
“That’s a girl’s name,” whispered one of the Shadowmancers to another. Divine Aurora shot him a dirty look, and he went back to frowning in formation with his clone-like counterparts. 
Divine Aurora stood and yelled into the crowd. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. “You did this! All you- -all you ponies! You’ve corrupted him! He was supposed to be SPECIAL! UNIQUE! And you- -you took away his future!”
“No,” said Sinnamon. “YOU tried to take away my future.”
“But the prophesy! You’re a Prince! You’re supposed be great! To accomplish things, to rule over these plebeians, to have every mare at your absolute disposal, to be loved by ALL!” 
“Every male Shadowmancer is called a Prince! Or did you not notice that? Or that we all get pretty much the same prophecy made when we’re born?”
“But you could have BEEN something!”
“Yes! I could have been identical to every other one of us! Done the exact same thing and erased my real destiny in favor of some nebulous CRAP!” 
Every pony gasped at Sinnamon’s language, including his mother. 
Sinnamon continued, though. “I don’t want to be like that. I don’t need to have special colors, or tons of powers, or a dark backstory or be a chosen one. I’m special because I’m ME. I make really good cinnamon rolls! That’s all I want! A normal life, where I don’t have to pretend to be an edgy loner!” 
Divine Aurora stared at him for a moment. “You should never have left us,” she said. “You’ve been on the surface too long. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Everyone wants to be like us. If they don’t like us, they’re just jealous or afraid of our power. I’m sorry. I truly am. If I had been able to find you, I would have taken you back long ago.”
“Which is kind of why I made with the hiding. But I’m not hiding anymore. Go home, mom. Stop looking for me. Because I’ll be right here.” He looked over his shoulder. “Assuming you’ll all allow me to stay, of course.” 
“You don’t really have a choice, actually,” said Divine Aurora. “Because I brought a small army, and because I’m the One True Princess of Equestria. So I’ll be taking you, whether you want to go or not.” She reached forward, “it’s for your own good. Come with me, and let’s get that ridiculous color scheme changed back to one that actually looks impressive and unique.” 
“You’re not taking him!” said Cranky, interposing himself between Sinnamon and Divine Aurora. “If he wants to stay, then he can stay! It’s his choice!”
“I agree!” said Matilda, emerging from the crowd.
“Matilda?” said Cranky, confused. “Get back! This is too dangerous for you!”
“Oh please. If it’s not too dangerous for you, then it’s not too dangerous for me. And what she’s doing to him isn’t fair, not at all!”
“Really?” said Divine Aurora. “So two donkeys intend to stop me. Even if one of them is the infamous Cranky Doodle Donkey, I will not be swayed.” 
“It’s not just them!” said another voice as Scootaloo stepped forward.
“Yeah!” said Twist, joining her. 
“We’re not going to let them take him, are we?” said Scootaloo, turning to her other friends.
“Well,” said Applebloom, rubbing one of her forelegs with the other. “He is…you know…”
“Kind of an attention hog,” added Sweetie Belle. Neither of them stepped forward. 
“Hey,” said a deeper voice, pushing his way out. “If it’s a fight you want, I’ll toast you!” 
Sinnamon turned around to see the Khlebtomaniac standing beside Mouth Organ, who played a menacing note on his harmonica. The Khlebtomanical looked back at him and winked. “We master criminals need to stick together, don’t we?”
No one else stepped forward, though. 
“Fine,” said Divine Aurora, shrugging. “Shadomancers, show them what happens to those who defy the future of Equestria.”
The Shadowmancers stepped forward, but Sinnamon and his friends held their ground. The nearest of them walked past Divine Aurora, but then instead of attacking, he turned toward her and threw down his katana.
“What- -what is the meaning of this?” demanded Divine Aurora, looking tremendously surprised. 
“The meaning? The meaning is that YOU’RE really, really mean! I’m sick and tired of this!” He reached back and brushed the charcoal off his cutie mark, which was an image of the texture that some houses have. “All I ever wanted to do was install aluminum siding! But I went along with you and the rest of them because I didn’t have the guts to do what that kid just did!” 
“Yeah!” said another. He brushed off his cutie mark, revealing an image of a duck. “I just want to settle down and farm duckies!”
“And I want to LICK DOORKNOBS!” screamed a heavily derped Shadowmancer, pointing at his flank which did indeed show that it was his special talent. 
“And katanas are DUMB!” said another. “It’s just about the WORST type of sword, especially for a pony!”
“Yeah! Modern steel was invented back when Celestia was skinny! We don’t need these overweight wall-hangers!”
“They gave me back problems!”
“And they gave me psoriasis!” 
Within minutes, all of the Shadomancers were in an uproar, throwing down their weapons. 
“I want to be pretty too!” said one. “I’ve always wanted to be green!” 
“And I want to be blue!” 
“Black and red is not a good color combination!”
“Stop!” ordered Divine Aurora. “Take up your weapons! Fight, cowards!”
“None of them are cowards anymore,” said Sinnamon as the Shadowmancers gathered around him, turning against their leader. 
“You would all give up your destinies, your special futures? You would just become- -become ORDINARY?!” 
“There’s nothing ordinary about being a pony,” retorted Sinnamon. “Or a donkey.” 
Divine Aurora glared at her son. The two glared at each other for a long time. 
“Fine,” said Divine Aurora, eventually. “Throw away everything you could have had. See if I care. You are a terrible son.” 
She then turned around and walked silently back into the black mist behind her, now all alone, leaving only her son, her comrades, and a trail of glittering tears behind her. Then, before anypony could do anything to stop her, the mist cleared, and she was gone. 
The rest of the ponies watched her go and stayed silence for an uncomfortable long time. Then they all started talking at once. Some simply meandered back to their houses, but Sinnamon made a beeline directly to Cranky and Matilda, hugging them both.
“Thank you!” he said. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done!”
“It was pretty impressive,” said Cranky. “Considering how much of a huge pain she can be.”
“And you would know this how, exactly?” asked Matilda suspiciously.
“I just…well…would. It’s complicated.” 
“But S.B….Sinnamon? What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to see if I can keep working at Sugarcube Corner, at least until I can get my own stand started. I’ve made so many friends, I don’t think I can leave.”
“Yeah,” said Cranky, glaring out at the sum total of six equines that had joined Sinnamon from the crowd of perhaps sixty. “Lots of friends. Sure.” 
“They just haven’t gotten to know me yet,” said Sinnamon. “Which is another reason I need to stay. That and, well…” He looked over his shoulder at the confused Shadowmancers, some of whom were beginning to awkwardly attempt to talk to several ponies, most of whom were Scootaloo and Twist. “They’re going to need help. Like I did. Like you gave me. They’ll go throughout Equestria, I guess, and maybe some will stay here.”
“But what about YOU?”
Sinnamon paused for a moment. “Pinkie Pie told me that she’s thinking of buying a house in town. Apparently it’s hard to have a coltfriend when you live with your employers and their young children. I’ve applied for her loft. I can live there.”
“But you’re just a little colt!”
“I’ve been a little colt my whole life, and alone most of it. Now I have ponies- -and donkeys- -to help me.” 
“Well,” said Cranky. “You really planned this out, didn’t you?”
“I did. And I’m not giving up on this. It will work. I’m sure of it.”
“Well,” said Cranky, gruffly. “It’s good to have goals. But…” He paused. “If you  need anywhere to stay until then…we hardly ever get overnight guests…and you do need to fix the shingles again…so I guess…”
“You can stay with us. As long as you need to,” said Matilda. 
Sinnamon Bun smiled broadly. “Thank you,” he said, hugging them. “Thank you so much!”