//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: Sunrise // Story: Pronoia/Paranoia // by TooShyShy //------------------------------// Twilight liked to speculate about how she would commit a murder. She never would have actually done it, but it was fun to imagine herself in both roles. Twilight Sparkle vs. Twilight Sparkle. Calmness and intellect vs. calmness and intellect. In many ways, it was a helpful exercise. Often when contemplating these far-fetched scenarios, Twilight would stumble across some valuable insight. But more than that, it was just fun. “But where would you hide the body?” she would ask herself. “Someplace nearby with a lot of daily hoof traffic,” she would reply. “The time frame is important. I need to be able to control when and how the body is found.” Yes, control. That seemed important. Twilight knew all about being in control. She'd gone to great pains to control her own life, even as her parents shoved universities and teaching positions down her throat. They'd stated many times—often wearing twin expressions of disapproval—that Twilight was being foolish. She wasn't meant to be a cop, or so they said. She was meant to be a professor, maybe even an advisor or secretary for Princess Celestia. Their concern was valid in its own way, but Twilight was able to ignore it. Control. From the very beginning, Twilight had seen hints of this. She recognized the symptoms, often misunderstood by those who didn't understand the inherent need for control and balance. She knew it wasn't much to go on. In the grand scheme of things, it was hardly anything. But the personality always came first. It always started with the quirks, the dislikes, the fears. Then Twilight could take a quill and fill in the physical features. But first she needed to better comprehend the type of killer she was dealing with. This killer wanted—needed—control. They needed to feel as if every aspect of this case was under their hoof, claw, or paw. That's why they sent Twilight that note. It was why they'd sent her that sample packet. Control. Dr. Stable's official report had been delivered to Twilight's office sometime earlier that day. She had left shortly before it showed up, so Spike brought it with him when he returned home. She found it—as well as a cup of cocoa—waiting for her on the kitchen table when she finally came back to her house. But she'd waited until she returned to her office to actually read it in detail. The hoofwriting was large and hurried, entire sentences and punctuation jumping from the margins. It almost looked like the writing of a foal. Twilight could tell that it was a rush job, as had been the postmortem itself. Dr. Stable clearly had no intention of lingering on this unpleasant event longer than he needed to. Fortunately, Twilight wasn't left to decipher the doctor's terrible hoofwriting. Nurse Redheart had made some notes in her own neat hoofwriting. Her notes consisted of a much-needed—and much cleaner—summary of what Dr. Stable had uncovered. Most of the report didn't tell Twilight anything she didn't already know. It mentioned the dragon's weed, reiterated the jam, and speculated upon time of death. If Dr. Stable was to be believed, this pony had died a whole three hours before their body was dismembered and nailed to the door of the library. No speculations about when they'd actually ingested the poison. Any signs of identity hadn't been found, but the lab in Canterlot was working on that. But there was one thing that stood out to her. The thorough description of the body's physical state—including the swelling that indicated poisoning—seemed off to her. Not off in the traditional sense, as in she detected something amiss. There was simply a detail that struck her as strange, although she couldn't put her hoof on it at first. But after letting it circle her brain for a good ten minutes, Twilight realized it was because of something she'd been subconsciously expecting. But as she scanned the page in a hurried fashion, she realized that it wasn't there. There were no signs that the victim had been force fed. All evidence pointed at something voluntary, maybe even enthusiastic. This unlucky pony had cheerfully consumed whatever was on their plate, unaware that they were about to keel over after their last spoonful. If their jaw had been forced open and the food poured down their unwilling throat, the signs would have been too obvious for even the less eagle-eyed medical professional to overlook. So what did this mean? It indicated that the victim must have known and trusted whoever served them. A friend, a family member, perhaps even a romantic partner. But of course, this information was rather useless until Twilight knew the victim's identity and could begin a thorough background check. While she mulled over several new theories, Twilight focused half of her attention on Spike and his rekindled interest in that seemingly innocuous Missing Pony case. “I thought it was weird,” Spike said. Although Twilight wasn't looking at him, he knew she was listening to every word he said. Even when she seemed to be a thousand miles away, Spike knew Twilight's brain was never idle. In some ways, she was more machine than pony. She was always aware of everything that was going on nearby, however insignificant or private. So when Spike talked, he could be sure she was taking in every word even if she was also caught up in her own thoughts. One of Spike's biggest mistakes when he first started on the force was mistaking Twilight for somepony who didn't feel the need to listen to him. He'd been tortured by the idea for weeks and he even considered leaving the city. Then one day, when Spike was sure she hadn't listened to a word he said in the past hour, Twilight had turned to him and casually mentioned his favorite brand of cider. He'd mentioned it to her briefly while passing off an important report. At the time, she'd been staring out the window and had only nodded vaguely at him when he spoke and gave her the report she wanted. But when Twilight mentioned that tiny fact to him—a fact he had been sure had passed her by when he said it—Spike had realized that Twilight was much different from the other officers he'd met, even if she didn't realize it. “I noticed there was an unusual gap in the time frame,” Spike said. “I don't think we paid attention because, you know, why would we? It's hard to reopen a Missing Pony case once it's already solved.” He didn't add that that was precisely why he'd wanted to revisit the Dinky case. Once the pony, dragon, or whoever was found, there was usually no point in taking a second look at the report unless something explicit popped up. But Twilight had encouraged him to look for clues in unusual places. Spike wasn't sure what she was getting at, but he took her advice. Spike placed the open case folder on Twilight's desk. It was late and both of them should have been home hours ago, but Twilight had taken a generous shot of coffee in preparation for an all-nighter. Spike was so used to accompanying her on these that he didn't even need the caffeine boost. “Dinky was missing from two o'clock PM to six o'clock PM,” he said. “In that time, nopony saw her anywhere around town. In fact, nopony saw her until she reappeared in her own house. Two o'clock was when the hide and seek game started in the schoolyard. But her mother only went out to look for her at four o'clock because she hadn't come home from school at the usual time. Dinky could have only found her way back into the house after her mother was gone. So what was she doing before then? I checked, but we never actually interviewed her or anything.” Twilight was staring at the wall, her head propped up on her hoof. “Maybe she's just really good at Hide and Seek,” she said. She'd never understood how foals could take interest in things like that. She'd preferred word games over frivolous activities like Hide and Seek. Shaking his head, Spike tapped the folder with his claw. “Her friends couldn't find her,” said Spike. “The rule around the schoolyard is that if the game goes on for more than an hour, the foals leave their hiding places and re-group. All the other foals did this promptly at three, but Dinky was the only one who didn't emerge. That still gives us a whole hour until Dinky would have been able to return to her house without being seen. Nopony saw her until then.” Twilight turned to focus on Spike for the first time, her hoof sliding out from under her chin. She'd never told Spike this and she wasn't planning to, but there were actually two reasons that she trusted him more than anypony else she'd ever worked with. The first was simply the fact that he was trustworthy, something he'd proved very early in their partnership. The second was that Spike had studied and worked harder than anypony else to get where he was. Others had studied the manuals and learned the laws, Spike had buried himself in them. He had more to prove than anypony else. Maybe he wasn't the brightest Twilight had ever seen, but if he thought there was something amiss, there was something amiss. “Have Dinky brought in as soon as Celestia raises the sun,” she said. Spike bared his teeth in a nervous smile. “Um, I don't think she'll be awake that early,” he said. Twilight sighed. She'd forgotten that the town wouldn't start revolving around her just because she was investigating a murder. It was an easy mistake on her part. She was so used to having underlings who'd scramble to do whatever she wanted, be it lawful trespassing or dragging some poor night owl from their slumber at the crack of dawn. What a wonderful life she had once lived. “Then have her brought in as soon as possible,” said Twilight. “And make sure Fluttershy gets in contact with that zebra who supposedly lives in the forest. Zecora, right?” Spike nodded. He'd talked with Fluttershy earlier and confirmed—as well as anypony can confirm a rumor—that there did at least seem to be somepony inhabiting the Everfree Forest. Twilight didn't really buy it and Spike himself was skeptical. They'd both seen the wildness of the forest first-hoof and were under the impression that no sane pony—or zebra—would willingly live in such a place. But seeing as Zecora was most certainly real, they at least had a possible lead on the dragon's weed. Twilight glanced at the office's wall-mounted clock. The clock was shaped like Twilight's Cutie Mark. A birthday present from Pinkie, even though she'd aggressively declined the offer of a surprise party. Twilight had a sneaking suspicion that Pinkie had thrown her one anyway, but she'd stayed away from the station that night and had thankfully missed it. Nevertheless, Twilight couldn't say she disliked the present. At least it wasn't a scrapbook. Twilight already had an entire box of those, collected from past birthdays in the grand old city of Canterlot. She was surprised to notice that it was only an hour before sunrise. Had they really been working all night? That was definitely the purpose of an all-nighter, but somehow time had blurred in between Twilight settling herself behind her desk and Spike coming in to discuss his discoveries. Now that she thought about it, they'd basically been discussing the contents of the report and throwing ideas back and forth for at least two hours, then maybe another three or four hours of idle chit-chat until Spike actually brought up the Dinky case. Now that his focus had slipped, Spike's eyes were beginning to droop. His body was finally beginning to catch on to the fact that he hadn't slept at all that night. He could feel himself starting to shut down, even as he fought to stay awake for Twilight's sake. Noticing the state Spike was in, Twilight hesitated. Back in the city, she hadn't thought twice about Spike staying up with her. She'd always accepted it as a foregone conclusion from the moment she started a case. He slept when she slept. It had never occurred to Twilight that Spike might actually need sleep more than she did. His relief from all-nighters might have been another of the few good things about the move to Ponyville. But seeing him struggling to keep his eyes open, Twilight felt a little guilty about what she'd indirectly put him through in the city. How many times had Spike almost collapsed from exhaustion while trying to keep up with a pony who was used to all-night study sessions? “Why don't you take the day off?” she said. Like a switch had been flipped, Spike immediately regained his energy. His head shot up and he stared at her, no trace of tiredness in his eyes. In fact, he looked as if he'd just awakened from a three hour nap. He appeared so refreshed that Twilight briefly doubted he'd been halfway towards Dream Town just five seconds ago. “There's paperwork to do,” he said. “And you need those interviews, right? Just let me finish those things, then I'll take a nap. Okay?” Twilight looked into Spike's eyes. He looked so determined that he could have fooled almost anypony. But the more she looked, the more tiredness she saw. He'd been working non-stop almost all day. She had as well, but she was used to it. Even in Ponyville, Twilight had never really learned how to keep a normal sleeping schedule. On the other hoof, Spike had never actually been on her level when it came to pulling all-nighters. He was just good at keeping his brain active even as his bed shouted at him from across the city. “Fine,” she said. “But don't push yourself too hard. I need you alert.” She felt guilty for saying that, but it was the truth. With all her competent officers busy, she was basically at a massive disadvantage. Maybe she should have taken it upon herself to re-vamp Ponyville's lacking police force. If she'd tried, she could have built a better law enforcement team from the ground up. But why bother? It wasn't like Ponyville needed a better law enforcement team. Up until that point, they'd been doing just fine. But at the moment, all Twilight wanted was a team of Spikes and Rarities. “Yeah, sure,” said Spike. He left the office before Twilight could make him promise. The fact he was in such a hurry worried her. Twilight truly feared for Spike's health if he continued to stretch his limits for her sake. But there wasn't much she could do, other than just hope he took a much-needed breather at some point. Twilight had work to do. She didn't have time to hover over Spike like a concerned mother. “He'll be fine,” she said to herself. Twilight took a deep breath. She wanted this case to be over as soon as possible. Spike needed his rest. And as much as she would have liked the reverse to be true, Twilight kind of needed it too. Twilight turned the note over and over in her hoof. But no matter how long she looked at it, it refused to be anything more than a piece of paper with two words printed on it. It had the ability to be something, possibly everything. But it had chosen to remain a rather innocuous piece of paper. If not for the circumstances, Twilight would have laughed at it. Did the note even have anything to do with the case? Was it just one of those fabled coincidences? No, she'd been over this a dozen times. Nothing was a coincidence. Not a single thing that had happened was a coincidence. It was all planned, written down in a nice composition notebook and tucked away under a mattress. Scrawled across a series of napkins and stowed in the secret compartment of an old oak desk. Twilight wanted to find that oak desk or that mattress. She wanted to tear this case apart and expose its innards, like peeling flesh and fur from a skeleton. It begins. She almost crumpled the note and tossed it into the wastebasket. It felt so much like nothing. Maybe a taunt or a gentle warning scavenged from a decaying mind. But it had to be something. It had been delivered to her cottage, read by her, touched by her. It was evidence. But it refused to be anything other than a note, connected to the case only by circumstance. Twilight put the note on her desk. There were clues there, things she could have followed. But followed where? She had no idea how she would even begin to build something around that note. There was a knock at the door to her office. She jerked her head up to stare at the closed door, her brow furrowing. Was Spike back so soon? Granted, she couldn't be sure how long she'd been at her desk. At her best estimate, she assumed about an hour or so had passed since Spike's departure. But she realized it couldn't have been Spike. He never bothered to knock, preferring to simply barge in without preamble. Perhaps it was a rather invasive practice he'd developed, but it saved her from having to leave her desk when she was deep into a case. “Come in,” she said. The door opened and Fluttershy stuck her head into the office. She wasn't normally the type to bother Twilight in her office. Truthfully, she was scarcely the type to bother anypony at any given time. She'd chosen a career noticeably incompatible with her personality, a lapse in judgment that seemed quite frequent in this town. But for all her faults, she was a decent receptionist. She kept all the necessary papers in order, she followed Twilight's instructions, and—most importantly—she never attempted to socialize with Twilight. She was one of the few citizens of Ponyville who respected Twilight's desire to be left alone. Fluttershy was overall a kind soul who would have never dreamed of pestering Twilight about social engagements. “There's somepony here to see you,” said Fluttershy. Her boldness spent, she hastily retreated before Twilight could ask questions. A bitter smile spread across Twilight's face. She'd forgotten that, regardless of circumstance, she was invariably an officer of the law. And despite the peaceful nature of the town, the wheels of life kept turning at a steady pace. Of course she couldn't expect to be completely spared the grievances of a small town just because she was working on an important case. Twilight hardly dared to imagine how overworked Ponyville's police force was going to be by the end of this. Even as a murder remained unsolved, there were still ponies getting into fights over produce at the market, illegally parking their carts, and scrawling lewd messages all over the water tower. How in Tartarus was Twilight supposed to deal with all of this? But to her surprise—and relief—the pony that entered her office wasn't an annoyed citizen seeking vengeance for a vandalized market stall. She was a pony Twilight had been waiting to speak to for a very long time. The fact that possibly the most important interview of this case had just marched into her office made Twilight feel as if there was some benevolent force working behind the scenes. “Raven?” she said. Twilight didn't need to confirm the mare's identity, but she asked anyway. She'd already been shown a picture. In the photograph, Raven had been quite a bit younger and obviously still living in the great city of Canterlot. Seeing as they'd both grown up in the same city, Twilight was surprised they'd never encountered one another beforehand. Canterlot was a big city with a massive and diverse population, but Twilight had a feeling that her and Raven would have hung around the same spheres of society. Raven nodded. Her bookish appearance revealed her career as a librarian, but it was the way she carried herself that betrayed her Canterlot roots. Despite having moved to a small town, she seemed the type who wouldn't be intimidated by royalty or wealth. By appearance alone, one would assume she'd been a dedicated student. They would have been correct. According to Twilight's research, Raven had graduated from one of the best universities in Canterlot. Despite merely brushing against opulence from time to time, she'd developed a circle of influential friends who'd eased her into a teaching position at one of Equestria's best schools. She'd bounced from teaching position to teaching position for about two years before settling in Ponyville. “You wanted to see me about a body?” said Raven. She sounded confused, even somewhat scared. It appeared that she hadn't been given a thorough briefing on the situation. She'd just been called back into Ponyville on an “urgent matter”, the word “murder” thrown in for encouragement. Twilight didn't feel bad about keeping Raven in the dark. If Raven was somehow involved, it was best she knew very little about what was going on. Not that Twilight actually suspected Raven. The poor confused mare had been out of town when the body was discovered. Until they knew the identity of the victim, Twilight couldn't point hooves. Twilight told Raven everything that had happened, including the scarecrow incident. She left out the part about the possible connection with the Dinky case. It was only a hypothesis at that point, so she didn't feel comfortable bringing it up like it was a solid fact. By the time Twilight had finished, Raven looked flabbergasted. She was probably disgusted by Twilight's description of the body, but that emotion hadn't quite kicked in yet. For the moment, she was simply thunderstruck. Her personal image of Ponyville—quiet, innocent, dull as hay—had fallen apart in less than ten minutes. Observing Raven's reaction, it occurred to Twilight that the allure of a small town was the straightforwardness of it. There were no layers. It was just a flat surface upon which any story could be written. Perhaps that was why Raven had chosen to move there. She'd wrongfully believed that there was a place where the grime of the city couldn't touch her. “And you're sure it was murder?” said Raven. Twilight rubbed her forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “Where have you been for the past few days?” she said. She knew the answer to that, but she wanted to hear Raven say it. It was against Twilight's code of conduct to take secondhand accounts seriously unless she could verify them with the actual subject. In a town like Ponyville, she suspected ponies were inclined towards exaggeration. It probably made their otherwise boring lives feel a bit more special. Unfortunately, this made extracting information more of a guessing game than Twilight appreciated. “With my sister in Manehattan,” said Raven. “She invited me to her wedding. It was very last minute. She hardly knew the stallion.” Her expression turned dark. “He didn't show up to the ceremony,” she said. “My sister thinks he ran off with one of the bridesmares.” If Twilight had cared any less about family or wedding drama, she would have tuned Raven out. But despite the story itself being useless, it did line up with what she'd been told and what she'd ascertained from her own research. Raven did indeed have a sister in Manehattan, a schoolteacher by the name of Holly. While she couldn't confirm some of the more intimate details—such as poor Holly being stood up at her own wedding—the bare facts were correct. Twilight would have to obtain a witness account that confirmed Raven's arrival in Manehattan and her attendance of the wedding in question, but she was confident there was nothing suspicious to be found. Twilight had hyped herself up for this interview, but she was starting to realize that it wasn't going to be as groundbreaking as she desperately needed it to be. “Do you remember anything interesting happening the day before you left?” she said. “Anything at all?” Raven pressed her hoof against her muzzle and thought for a moment, scouring the deepest corners of her mind. Twilight waited for Raven to speak, practically holding her breath. This could be it. It could be the moment she'd been waiting for since this case started. A definitive bit of evidence that would allow Twilight to build something around that note. Maybe Raven was the key to this entire thing. A paintbrush with which Twilight would create her masterpiece of a solution. “I misplaced my shopping list,” said Raven. Twilight visibly deflated. Sun-fucking-dammit. Why did she keep hyping herself up like that? “That's too bad,” she said. She didn't even try to feign concern over this completely pointless bit of information. Twilight had actually been summoned over a missing—or “stolen” as the pony claimed—shopping list. That “case” had cemented Twilight's frustration with Ponyville and everypony in it. They were all so eager to dramatize their own lives to make themselves feel better about the monotony. Twilight had only escaped this fate by sequestering herself. But at the same time, her isolation had allowed her to see the internal tragedy of the town's unrecognized plight. Sometimes she would have preferred giving in and becoming one of them over watching from the outside. It wasn't a pretty sight. “I did find it,” Raven went on. “It was in my bag.” She dug around in her bag, frowning as she burrowed through empty candy wrappers and sample bottles of hoof polish. After a minute, she pulled out a small piece of paper and placed it on the desk. Forcing a smile on her face, Twilight looked down at the shopping list. Raven's hoofwriting was surprisingly messy for somepony who'd once been a teacher. Rather than deliberate and elegant, her style was childish and rushed. It was slightly manic and confusing, with random emphasis on certain letters for no apparent reason. It almost looked as if it had been written by two different ponies who'd switched with each other halfway through every word. Twilight scowled at the messy excuse for hoofwriting, astonished and somewhat repulsed by the sheer chaos of it. The contents weren't very interesting. Eggs, cheese, apples, coffee, etc. It was quite similar to Twilight's own shopping list, minus the abominable hoofwriting. The parchment was high quality, although Twilight did not immediately recognize the brand. Judging by the quality, Twilight suspected Raven had bought it from Canterlot, much like how Twilight herself ordered her quills from a shop in the city. Yet another point for Canterlot: If one had the bits and was prepared to splurge, it was simply the best place for any conceivable manner of shopping spree. There was a shop for nearly everything, from the mundane to the pointless and expensive. There were even bookstores that specialized in unabridged history books. She turned the list over to see if Raven had written anything on the back. This was more a force of habit than anything else. This was a tradition she'd developed after years of forgetting to pick up medication or check her phone during a long shopping trip. Whenever Twilight felt as if she'd forgotten something, she'd simply flip over the shopping list to reveal whatever important task she'd promised or been implored to perform while she was out. There was a single word written on the back of the list: Duress. The hoofwriting didn't look anything like Raven's. It was a lot neater and much easier for Twilight to look at. There was an air of artistry to it, as if the pony who'd written it had engaged their creative freedom. It was basically the extreme opposite of Raven's hoofwriting. Beautiful, unique, comfortingly precise. Looking at it filled Twilight with a sense of peace. “Who wrote this?” she said. Raven shook her head, her brow furrowed in bemusement. “I don't know,” said Raven. “I took the list out of my bag and somepony had written something on it. But I could have sworn I left it on a shelf in the library. How in Equestria did it get in my bag?” Twilight didn't answer. Her eyes had wandered from the shopping list to the note that still lay on her desk. The cogs in her brain were turning at an almost frightening speed. No, it clearly wasn't the same hoofwriting. That was preposterous. But she couldn't help but notice the similarities. There was a subtle curve in the “e” that seemed quite familiar. But that was nothing, right? It was just a single letter and a similarity of such little consequence that anypony else wouldn't have noticed it. The problem was that Twilight had noticed it. The second she'd engaged her brain, it had jumped out at her. It was as if she was meant to notice it, as if somepony was sending her the most subtle message imaginable. That e was meant for her. “Did you leave your bag unattended at any point?” said Twilight. Raven looked from Twilight's face to the shopping list, clearly bemused and concerned by Twilight's interest. Perhaps it had never occurred to her that anything strange had happened. While the sequence of events did seem a bit odd, she'd probably assumed that somepony had just grabbed the shopping list and written some cryptic garbage on it for fun. Somewhere during the transition from Canterlot to Ponyville, Raven had probably lost that survival instinct that required her to freak out over any unexpected and unexplained event. When one was offered the solace they truly craved, they often weren't eager to make a big deal out of something that seemed harmless. “Oh yes,” said Raven. “I spent most of the day in the library and my bag was right near the entrance. I never really paid much attention to it.” Twilight let out another one of her sighs that seemed to encompass every negative thought about Ponyville. Of course nopony in this boring town would think twice about leaving their things unattended in a public place. What could happen? It wasn't like Canterlot, where an unattended bag was likely to be stolen under the muzzles of several trained security guards if its contents were of any importance. Getting into Raven's bag while she wasn't looking—especially to merely slip a pilfered shopping list inside—was hardly a daring heist. Nopony would have noticed somepony popping into the library for a few minutes. Even if the pony in question had been a total stranger, they could have slipped in and out without attracting the slightest amount of attention. “Do you remember who came into the library that day?” said Twilight. She knew there had to be a list of ponies who'd been in the library, but she doubted this mysterious pony had left such an obvious trail. Just as Twilight had expected, Raven's recollections weren't helpful. There was indeed a list of ponies who'd visited the library, but it consisted only of those who'd returned or checked out books. Anypony who'd just come in for a minute or two to look around or grab a novel off the shelves for a brief reading session weren't on the list. Raven hadn't noticed anypony either entering or leaving the library. She recalled that ponies had definitely come in and out, most of them schoolponies seeking material for their book reports. But when prompted for faces and names, Raven drew a blank. She just didn't pay attention to ponies who came into the library unless they actually engaged her in conversation. “I'll need to keep this,” said Twilight. Raven looked completely baffled, but she shrugged. “May I go now?” she said. Twilight nodded. In the end, she'd gotten exactly what she wanted from this interview. It wasn't a lead or anything she could use to make a definite connection, but it was something. The important part was that she was getting there. She might have been trotting slower than a newborn foal, but she was getting there. But where was there in relation to this increasingly bizarre case? Somewhere she'd already been or somewhere brand new that she wasn't sure she wanted to go? But of course that was irrelevant. She was still going to solve this case, even if she ended up somewhere terrifying. Twilight knew all about terror. True terror was being cornered by an armed stallion who'd just been busted for a recent murdering spree. True terror was watching the knife come closer and closer, hatred and fear burning in the stallion's eyes as he prepared to take out the one pony who could put him behind bars. Twilight had survived that. She'd survived all of it. Sometimes she'd only made it out by sheer luck, but the important thing was that she could be at her desk early the next morning. She never let any of it touch her. It certainly brushed her on more than one occasion, causing her fur to stand on end. But Twilight never let that ethereal hoof linger for too long. She knew that if she left it for more than a second, it would leave a cold spot. That spot would keep getting colder until Twilight found herself splayed out on a slab. Shining Armor had described this as “the invisible winter”. It was something nopony in the force ever talked about, but it was as real and as deadly as any killer. If Twilight let the job get to her, it was all over. Twilight brushed her hoof against the word on the parchment. Why did the sight of it fill her with so much dread, rather than elation? Why did she feel like a pit had opened up in her stomach? She held the parchment close to her, letting it absorb her heartbeat. Of course. How had she been so blind? But it had been so long. Years. But still, how could she have let such a vital memory slip away? Then again, of course Twilight hadn't noticed it in the moment. It was so absurd that her mind had automatically passed over it. Sometimes Twilight was too rational for her own good. She automatically filtered out the strange or unlikely, even if what was left was quite underwhelming. She knew that hoofwriting. She'd seen it countless times as a foal and many more times later in life. It should have struck her immediately, much like the scarecrow. But it had been so long and Twilight had been trying to forget. She'd become rather selective with her memories. Some things she just let go because she thought it would help, other things she kept so she could get through the day a little bit easier. For a pony like her, a disorganized mind was a nightmare. Twilight needed everything to have a place and anything that got in the way of this order was simply cast aside. But this wasn't something she could throw away with ease, even if it had ceased to serve any kind of purpose. Shining Armor. It was Shining Armor's hoofwriting. But it couldn't be. He was gone, buried, completely and utterly removed from the picture in every possible way. His things had been either sold or shoved into boxes that now resided in the attic of Twilight's foalhood home. Twilight could accept a lot of far-fetched theories, but she didn't believe in ghosts or the type of unearthly power that could contact the dead. Things like that were simply beyond magic, beyond science, and beyond reason. But there was another explanation. A horrible explanation that sent her mind reeling. But it was the only thing that made sense, the only logical story Twilight would accept. If it was true—and it had to be—she knew that she had to solve this case. Even if it sent her headfirst into an early grave, she had to get to the bottom of this. Somepony was fucking with her. And perhaps even worse, this was a pony who knew how to fuck with her. Their ultimate goal—or at least part of their goal—was to get under Twilight's fur. Well, they were succeeding. Good for them. They'd rattled her. They'd caused her to stumble over her own thoughts. Ingenious. Whoever this killer was, Twilight wanted to shake their hoof, claw, or fin. Twilight gritted her teeth. Fuck it. They wanted to play a game? Fine. Twilight liked games.