//------------------------------// // Chapter 10 // Story: The Nyxing Hour // by Nagel Navari //------------------------------// Nightfall knew this probably wasn’t a good idea. She had lots of excuses—she had her disguise, the incredible magic that made her look like anypony else. More than anything else, she just wanted a chance to walk around and see what had happened to her world. Midnight Storm would’ve been welcome to come along, but the kirin was far too busy outfitting their new home. There were so many boring things to deal with—food and who knew what else. It had been easy for Nightfall to sneak out. I’ll be back before she even realizes I’m gone. Nightfall’s memories were a strange slurry. On the one hoof, there was the argument that she was really a brand new pony. An infant of only a few days old should not be able to speak pony languages, or read their writing, or anything else. She should not be an Alicorn. Yet she could do all those things. Language often came accompanied with meaning and history that did not make sense to her—many of the words that floated through her head were mere abstractions. Only when she walked under the metal object with its glowing top did she realize she was looking up at a streetlight, coming on an hour ahead of nightfall. Then there was the other possibility—the one that was much more disturbing. Nightmare Moon obviously knew pony languages, she had learned them from Luna. If she were that pony, then it would be quite logical for her to know what she did. The problem was—if Nightfall was Nightmare Moon, then she was guilty of all her sins. That was not the possibility she wanted. Nightfall wanted those memories to belong to somepony else. The screams had been inflicted by a long-dead villain, not by her. I don’t have to be her if I don’t want to. Even Princess Celestia had said as much. It was a chance Nightfall was more than eager to take. Even Nightmare Moon would’ve wanted it. She only wanted ponies to love the night as much as she did. Thoughts like that landed a little close to home for Nightfall, and she banished that line of reasoning with a pained shake of her head. It would be better not to dredge up too many of those old memories. It was impossible to completely banish them. As she walked through Ponyville, she found it matched her old ideas for what pony settlements ought to be in many central ways. It had a river, as any large settlement needed. She could see farms and orchards surrounding the village to provide its food. Thatched roofs, a gravel road, a few larger civic buildings in the center. She remembered what the inside of the capital looked like from more of those old memories. Nightfall found herself drifting towards a set of voices—happy voices, not the screams of that night of her return. That wasn’t me that wasn’t me that wasn’t me. No, these ponies were younger. They sounded like they were having fun. It was the sort of gathering Nightfall wanted to be a part of. She followed them across a bridge, pleased at how little Ponyville’s residents paid attention to her. She wasn’t a dark Alicorn anymore, she was just a dark-colored pegasus. So long as the spell continued to hide her, she could be just another face in the crowd. The ponies she had been hearing were gathered on the bank of the river, tossing a ball back and forth according to the rules of a game she didn’t recognize. One unicorn filly pushed it through the air with a few flickering flashes of magic, before an earth pony filly blocked it from entering a basket with her body, only to have it snatched away by a wiry pegasus colt, who knocked it off his wings to another young pegasus on the other end of their play area. She kicked it between some rocks, and the two of them cheered. “What are you playing?” Nightfall asked, before she could stop herself. She had wandered up to the field, as close as she could get without attracting too much attention. Considering the four of them had been completely engrossed in their game, that was very close. “It’s called Touchball,” said the little greenish unicorn with the horseshoe cutie mark. She was still glaring, though not at Nightfall. She seemed disappointed that another point had been scored. “Who are you?” asked the cream-colored pegasus colt. “I haven’t seen you in school before.” “I’m new,” she said. “My name is Nightfall. Nightfall Storm.” “Spooky!” said the earth pony with the pillow cutie mark. “Guess it goes with your coat. I’m Aura.” “Liza,” said the unicorn filly. “Featherweight,” said the little pegasus colt. “And this is Zipporwhill.” The other shy pegasus barely even managed a nod. “You’re new, huh?” Aura asked. “That’s fun. Where’d you come from? Canterlot, I bet. Lots of new ponies come from Canterlot.” “No, uh…” Nightfall tried to remember. “I’m uh… from Motherlode.” It was one of the most remote towns in Equestria. A perfect cover for nopony knowing about her. Nopony from there lived in Ponyville, which made it a difficult story to question. Nightfall felt a little bad lying to ponies, but not that bad. In some ways, she wasn’t from anywhere, exactly, so why not from Motherlode? “Never heard of it,” said Featherweight. “It’s far away. Where it snows all the time. They mine a lot there.” “Boring,” Liza said. “You should play with us, Nightfall.” “For a few more minutes, anyway,” Featherweight said. “It’s already dark. My parents will probably come soon.” “I should… probably get home, actually.” Zipporwhill squeaked, glancing once around nervously. “Mom said… once the streetlights came on.” She waved with a wing. “Nice to meet you, Nightfall.” She buzzed off into the dark without another word. “Well, that just makes the teams even,” Aura said, watching her go. “You’re with Featherweight, Nightfall. You know how to play Touchball?” “Sure,” she lied. “But… maybe remind me? In case I forgot?” They did. The rules were quite simple—the sort of game children like this could play with a single oversized ball and some rocks to mark out boundaries. Not nearly as complicated as the ancient and storied sport of Hoofball. But Nightfall didn’t really care about the game—she just wanted a chance to do something regular ponies would’ve done. And to her glee, they didn’t seem to want to go in as the streetlights went up. She could still remember that ancient anger, belonging to a pony she kept reminding herself that she wasn’t. A pony who had watched foals like these hide from the dark in their homes and only come out again when Celestia’s sun returned. But it got dark, and they kept playing under the steady amber light of the streetlights. Nightfall was terrible at Touchball. Not just because she’d never played that game before, but because she was only a few days old. She tripped over her own hooves more than once, and she couldn’t use her magic without revealing her disguise for what it was. But these ponies didn’t care. Featherweight didn’t seem to mind that she was a trash teammate, and they started losing as soon as she was assigned. The rest of the group was gradually whittled down, dwindling to just her and the oldest, the earth pony named Aura. “You should probably go home…” the filly said, sounding reluctant. “Won’t your mom and dad be worried about you?” Her eyes widened, and Nightfall remembered she had only meant to be gone for a few minutes. She’d just wanted to look at Ponyville, not get distracted with a whole game of Touchball. “Right, yeah!” Nightfall winced. “I should really get going. I don’t want Midnight to be mad at me…” “I can walk you home,” Aura said. “Where is it?” “Back across the bridge.” Nightfall started off that way, practically bouncing up and down on her hooves in her nervousness. So much for showing Midnight that she could be responsible in Ponyville. It’ll be fine. She probably isn’t even done picking out furniture. I’ll slip right back inside, and she’ll look up from the stupid catalog and not even notice I was gone. They didn’t make it a dozen steps over the bridge before Midnight realized she was being followed. Her young companion had no senses for that kind of thing—she was actually the child she appeared, cheerful and eager to have made a new friend. But Nightfall could recognize the sight of a pony trying to stay out of sight, one that was imitating her steps and following her as she turned. The streets were mostly empty now. She didn’t know how long she’d been playing, but late enough that most of the shops were starting to close and the ponies were returning from them. So she stopped walking right in the street, turning to glare back into the gloom. Aura stared, confused by her sudden change of behavior, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything. Midnight Storm emerged from the gloom a second later. Nightfall couldn’t read the mask on her face—was that anger? Disappointment? Satisfaction? That kirin was good at hiding her feelings when she wanted to. She approached slowly, holding her tail low like she usually did. Aura stopped and stared, ears flattening. “W-who’s that?” “My mom,” Nightfall said without thinking. “You were right. I shouldn’t have been out so late.” “Oh.” Aura relaxed. She looked up, and smiled nervously up at Midnight Storm. “Hi, Miss…” “Storm,” Midnight said. “Thank you for taking good care of Nightfall. I’m glad there are young ponies in Ponyville who know how to be safe and go together. But my daughter shouldn’t have stayed out so late—her dinner is getting cold.” Her glare went icy for a second, though not for Nightfall’s new friend. There was no trying to conceal her disappointment anymore. “What’s your little friend’s name, Nightfall?” “Aura.” “Well, Aura. My daughter and I will make sure you get home safely.” What she did not say was what she would do to Nightfall as soon as they were done, though her glare implied it would be something quite severe. “I hope I see you at school tomorrow,” Aura said, as they made their way towards the outskirts of Ponyville. The homes here didn’t look nearly as nice as the one she lived in. The wood was worn, and the roofs looked like they needed new straw. Of course, the magical lights everywhere would still have been quite amazing in the world Nightfall remembered best. “I… I dunno.” She looked up at Midnight. “Will I be at school tomorrow?” “Not tomorrow,” Midnight said. “But the day after.” “Aww,” Aura muttered, though she didn’t argue with Midnight. Nightfall couldn’t exactly blame her—Midnight Storm was easily the largest pony in the whole city. She doubted even the largest grown stallions would be arguing with her. They dropped Aura at a top floor flat in one of the most run-down looking buildings Nightfall had seen yet—though the filly didn’t seem to notice, or else didn’t care enough to be embarrassed. No parent came to the door to see their filly returned, and Aura’s expression made it clear she didn’t expect one. “See you around, Nightfall.” They left. “I thought you were more responsible,” Midnight muttered, as soon as they were alone on the streets of Ponyville. Properly alone this time—only the occasional night-guard was visible passing down a distant street. “What do you have to say for yourself, Nightfall?” There was no yelling, no threats. Just those disappointed eyes—they hit harder than any blow could have. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Excuses won’t make it go away. I should’ve stayed inside.” Midnight seemed ready to argue—she stopped herself, nodding. “That’s exactly right.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, even though there didn’t seem to be anypony around to listen. If the night-guards in their patrols noticed them, they didn’t make any move to stop them. It wasn’t as though Ponyville had a curfew or anything. “Celestia thinks there are some bad ponies who would really like to know where you are, sweetheart. I know Ponyville looks safe, but we can’t pretend it is yet. Not until the guards can track them down. You made me think they’d got you.” “Yeah.” Nightfall looked away. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” What she didn’t mention was her feeling of being watched, and how it hadn’t gone away when Midnight found her. She didn’t want to worry the kirin more than she already was. Besides—it was probably nothing.