//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Ink // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Beyond the door, Twilight found herself in a dark place, a place that she knew very little about. The headquarters for the Stiff Upper Lip Society. It was difficult to walk with a foal clinging to one’s leg, but somehow, she managed. She could feel Sumac trembling, and with each breath there was a whimper. This had been a black day for him—for all involved—and she hoped that she could see him through this, whatever it might be. With each step, she thought about what she had just witnessed, about how everything has consequences, how each little event can contribute to outcomes never imagined. Twilight’s reflections were interrupted by the shocking number of bodies that she just noticed, so many limp bodies all in a pile. The alicorn mare’s mouth dropped open when she took in the whole scene as she came around the corner. Dozens of dead bodies all in a heap, forming a wall around three foals backed into a corner. On the other side of the wall of bodies was a mare that Twilight truly hated. “Well, this certainly complicates things. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave here with my prizes. No matter, I can still do what’s needed.” Belladonna let out a sniff of contempt and one perfect eyebrow arched. “Those foolish ascension alicorns will rue the day they interfered with my plans.” Twilight had trouble taking all of this in. She knew a little, but not much of what had happened this day. Sumac had redoubled his grip around her foreleg almost to the point of discomfort, but she did not begrudge him. His laboured breathing made her ears twitch and she could feel the dampness of his tears against her pelt. No doubt, those tears were inky. “The gun,” Sumac whimpered. Eyes darting around, Twilight looked for a glint of metal. She searched among the bodies, her sharp alicorn eyes taking in every horrific detail, all of these creatures had died defending Sumac, Pebble, and Moon Rose. In the talons of a fallen griffon, she saw it; the blued glint of metal. Her heart lept up into her throat, she lifted her head, and she looked into little Sumac’s eyes, the Sumac who was trying to defend the two fillies behind him. “No…” Twilight breathed the word and she felt Sumac’s now violent spasming against her leg. She stood watching, almost breathless, as Belladonna began to concentrate to cast a spell. This event was one that Twilight dreaded, this was the time that Sumac, Pebble, and Moon Rose had parts of their souls torn away, so their talents, their unique magic could be exploited. When the ominous click came from the gun, Twilight almost lost control of her bowels and her bladder. Sumac, having just turned six, was pointing the revolver at his mother, and his lip was curled back in a snarl. Belladonna looked surprised, and who could blame her? Her own son was pointing a gun at her. “And just what do you think you are doing?” Belladonna demanded. Sumac did not reply and the gun trembled in his telekinesis. “Well, it’s nice to see that you didn’t get your father’s natural cowardice.” Belladonna’s voice dripped with malice and contempt. “I hated your father… hated him… but that silver tongue of his… he made me love him… then you came along and I hated you both… him forcing himself on me, and you… because you’re a reminder of what he did!” The Sumac clinging to Twilight’s leg was bawling now, and he had fallen to the floor, his forelegs wrapped around Twilight’s hoof. “I hate you more,” little Sumac said while he kept the gun pointed at his mother. “I don’t think you have the stones,” Belladonna said, and then she let out a contemptuous cackle to spite her son. Twilight knew different. Sumac had issues because of his bravery. Some might even call him foolhardy. The colt did dumb things because he didn’t have a lick of common sense when it came to self-preservation. She had endured so many headaches because of Sumac’s near suicidal sense of bravery, and Twilight delighted in the fact that Belladonna was about to get a firsthoof lesson in Sumac’s sometimes annoying peculiarities. “Twilight, I’m sorry!” Sumac whined while he clung to her hoof. “I was scared! I hate that I did this! I’m so sorry! Please, don’t be disappointed with me! All I could think about was keeping the others safe!” —BANG!— Even though she was waiting for it, the sound made her jump out of her skin. There was a blinding, brilliant flash from the gun, which tumbled from Sumac’s telekinetic grip. It clattered to the floor with a metallic clunk, and little Sumac’s face was now one of shocked horror mixed with disbelief. Twilight felt a lot of things at that moment, fear, terror, shock, sadness, sorrow, and pride. It burned within her breast like a white hot coal and made her heart thump hot against her ribs. Not far away, Belladonna looked a bit shaken and a whole lot startled while she held the bullet in front of her nose, looking at it with crossed eyes that were wide with disbelief. After a few moments, her eyes uncrossed and she looked over at her son while rage began to distort her features. “No… no… no… no!” Sumac, clinging to Twilight’s leg, began to shake his head. “No, it’s my fault what happens next… no… this is all my fault… I made this happen… Twilight, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” Twilight didn’t know what was going on, but cold terror made her belly begin to prickle. She sat down, lifted Sumac, pulled him closer, and tried to soothe him by nuzzling his ear. He was a mess, a sobbing, convulsing mess, and it seemed that no matter what she did, she could not bring him a measure of comfort. “You know, I’d beat your little ass like I used to when you were little, but I don’t think it’d do me any good… I do know one way to hurt you though, I think… yes… I think I know how to put you in your place!” “This is my fault!” Sumac shrieked. “Make it stop, Twilight! Make it stop! I can’t bear to go through this again!” Wrapping her wings around Sumac, Twilight tried to shield him from whatever was about to happen, and she watched in absolute dread as Belladonna stepped over the many bodies that lay between her and the three foals. The gun was snatched up, held up, the bullets were removed, and then she flung the gun away. Try as she might, Twilight could not think of a way to stop this. “They’re raising you to be noble,” Belladonna said to her son as she loomed over him. “As your mother, I feel like it’s my duty to teach you the folly in being noble. Allow me to demonstrate and show you the consequences of your actions.” Saying nothing else, the dark, dusky orange mare picked up Pebble in her magic, and the filly kicked and thrashed. Then, much to Twilight’s terror, Pebble began shrieking, letting out blood-curdling screams of pain while magic arced and crackled up and down her body. Even worse was the look of pain on Sumac’s face, little Sumac, and Twilight knew that he had to be thinking that this was his fault. Twilight offered the only comfort she could. “Sumac! This isn’t your fault! You didn’t do this to Pebble! I’m proud of you for being defiant!” She pulled Sumac closer, trying to scoop up all of his dangl-gangliness and squeezed him as tight as she could. “I don’t think Pebble blames you either! She loves you! You shouldn’t be ashamed of this! You didn’t do anything wrong!” Pebble’s screams intensified, but she too, showed signs of defiance. While she couldn’t stop shrieking in agony, she did aim all of her punches and kicks at Belladonna, even though she was too far away to do any good. Little Sumac collapsed, his expression going blank, and he lay on the floor, overwhelmed and unresponsive, curled up in a fetal position, his ears twitching with every screech made by Pebble. “Not so noble now, are you?” Belladonna asked, her voice dripping with sadistic glee while she continued to torture Pebble. “Look at how weak this has made you! Not so noble now!” “YES HE IS!” Twilight bellowed and the force of her voice caused everything to tremble as though an earthquake had happened. The scene froze, all movement ceased, and the only sound that could be heard was the wracking, tooth-clattering sobs of Sumac while he wept in Twilight’s protective embrace. “Sumac, sometimes, when you do the right thing, others might suffer because of what you’ve done. It’s a painful fact of life. It’s awful, and horrible, and it isn’t fair, but it happens, and you have to work past it. Many have suffered because of my actions and because of things I’ve done. This is why you have to have friends… they’ll help you recover.” A vast pool of ink had collected upon the floor and the lights shimmered in its murky surface. Twilight surveyed this scene—now frozen in time—and her love for Sumac grew stronger. He had borne this burden on his shoulders for many long years now, keeping it to himself, carrying the weight of his actions, and living with the consequences. Every time he looked at Pebble, every time he kissed her, every time he touched her, he had to be reminded of these black events… and yet, he still loved Pebble. Twilight pressed her muzzle to Sumac’s ear, breathed a bit to control her emotions, and then kissed him, hoping to offer some reassurance. In the middle of this realisation, the colour around them began to drain away and the world returned to paper. Twilight watched as it happened—she was exhausted and drained—but she somehow knew there was still quite a ways to go before this was over. With her current awakening, all these thoughts racing through her mind, she wasn’t so sure that this scene was intended for Sumac. Oh, he might benefit from it, and in time, he might find some peace from having her support, but there was a lingering feeling of intuition that all of this had played out for her sake. “You are so very special to me, Sumac,” Twilight whispered, her lips brushing up against his ear while she held him. “You and so many others. I love all of you so much. I’m sorry that this happened. When I sent you away to the Rock Farm, I didn’t know that everything had been compromised. I was so confident in my own planning, I was so self assured… if anything, all of this is my fault, because at the time, I was overconfident and believed my well-thought out plans were infallible.” “I never blamed you,” Sumac replied in a phlegmy gargle. “I won’t blame you now, either.” “That means a lot to me.” Twilight relaxed her wings a little bit, turned Sumac around, and looked into his face. Everything, now paper, began to fold away, as this chapter of the book was now over. “Sumac, where is Boomer? She wasn’t here? What happened? By the time you got home, you had Boomer again.” Sniffling, Sumac shuddered a bit, and tried to pull himself together so that he might better answer Twilight’s question. He coughed a few times, hiccuped, and let out a weary sigh. “At the Rock Farm, when we were under attack and everything was all crazy, Long Ears and Kabuki prayed for assistance before what was sure to be what they called a kamikaze run. They called out to their god…” “And what happened?” Twilight asked. “Their god showed up,” Sumac replied. “But what happened exactly?” “The Black Hound came out of nowhere with her zebra. It was terrifying… she just sort of… appeared in the darkness. I couldn’t tell what was black shadow and what was Black Hound. She had a big green sword and she shot out these chains made of shadows to grab her enemies and drag them so she could chop them to bits. There was a whole lot of blood all of a sudden.” “What happened to Boomer?” Twilight began to rub Sumac’s neck, and she was glad that he was starting to be himself again. “She jumped on the back of the zebra and they charged off into battle together.” “Oh.” Twilight couldn’t find any meaningful words to say. “Oh.” “We got sent away… to the safehouse. The last I saw of Boomer that night, she was riding into a huge army of horrible things, and it was really hard to see because I was crying.” Once more, Twilight began cleaning up Sumac’s face, and with her wings, she began wiping at her own. Both of them had cried many tears of ink—Twilight noticed with great curiousity that Sumac’s face now had slight stains in the corners of his eyes and on his cheeks. She wondered if her face now had stains as well. She didn’t know what the stains meant or implied, but she now worried a bit now that she had noticed them. When ink permeated into paper, when it soaked into parchment, it left behind a mark. Those marks formed words, or symbols, and those formed ideas. Now, there was only empty paper in all directions, and once more, there was a door…