//------------------------------// // 12 - The Divide // Story: The Needle // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// Lunch and a little bit of relaxation gave Daring a jolt of determination. After that pillar, she was so close to finding the secret of Needle Vale. So close. She could feel it in her bones. Or was that her mind acting up again? But the negative feeling was soon gone. She’d find the answer soon enough. Once she reached the other end of the valley, she’d either have something to study or a decent story about how she was the first pony to plumb the depths of Needle Vale. (If she discounted that facility, anyway.) Daring stood up and flexed her wings. They’d been sitting around long enough. “Ready to go?” “Sure,” said Windrose. “I think we’ve…” Then she frowned. She looked around the makeshift campsite, over and over, as if she was missing something important. “It’s… just us two?” “Sure,” Daring said. “Same way it’s been for the past week. Why?” “I don’t know.” Windrose rubbed her head. “This doesn’t feel right.” “Why not?” “Dunno. It’s… Never mind. I’ll get the fire.” But while Daring stopped minding, she could tell Windrose didn’t. As they headed north, Daring kept an ear tilted back, occasionally picking up low mutterings from Windrose. She couldn’t make sense of it. Something about memory and being introverted. Well, Windrose’d bring it up if it was important. The trees were growing denser, and Daring couldn’t tell why. By now, it almost resembled a proper forest. But the trees felt like rough splinters sticking up out of the ground, as if simply brushing against them would get Daring stabbed with needles in a dozen places. The valley was beginning to feel threateningly empty in that way only forests can: no one visible, yet dozens of places to hide. And watch. Daring took a closer look around at the forest. It felt different, even setting aside the tree density, but she couldn’t say why. It was through that sixth sense that told her to duck beneath traps, that told her she was about to be stabbed in the back. The forest was… angry, almost. She and Windrose weren’t supposed to be here. Nothing was supposed to be here. Even the cold felt different. Daring’s boots were soaking through and her coat wasn’t doing much good anymore. The slightest puff of wind curled down her neck, tore at her trunk with frigid talons, and shot out next to her tail, as if there wasn’t anything there. Pegasus weatherproofing could only go so far. She thought Windrose was probably miserable, but Windrose didn’t say anything. Not to Daring, anyway. Daring and Windrose walked. The snow crunched. The sun lowered. Windrose muttered to herself. The wind blew. Shadows lengthened. Their miniscule group felt oddly empty. They needed at least one more person, Daring thought. An adventuring “party” with only two people was strange. Three was better for conversation, keeping eyes out for detail, keeping watch at night (if it came to that), and so on. Why’d she only hired one other person to help? She might as well have just gone by herself. It’d definitely be- “Oh, shit,” whispered Windrose, her footsteps stumbling to a stop. Daring twitched at Windrose’s voice, but she didn’t look back. “Noticed something?” she asked. “W-we need to stop now,” said Windrose. “Please.” “Why?” “You wouldn’t b-believe me. We can’t keep moving.” “Walking and talking’s not that-” “Daring, if you don’t stop right this second, I swear to Celestia and Luna both, I’ll break your legs.” It was Windrose’s voice that did it. It was hard, solid, aggressive, hostile. Daring had heard weaker threats from crime lords. She almost stumbled as she came to a halt. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see Windrose casually swinging a sledgehammer to make good on her promise. But Windrose didn’t look angry. She looked scared out of her mind. Her eyes were wide, her legs were shaking, and she was breathing heavily. When she collapsed onto her rump, all Daring could do was blink in surprise. “Whoa. Are… you okay?” Windrose giggled nervously. “Nope. No. Not at all. Nope. This’ll sound crazy, but just… h-hear me out, okay?” “You don’t need anything?” Windrose’s voice grew steadier as she said, “Only for you to listen to me.” She took a deep breath. “Why did you hire me?” Daring cocked her head. “You needed the money and volunteered. Plus, you were a cartographer.” “How did I know you were heading out? Why did you hire me and only me?” “Well, you…” But somehow, when Daring thought back to when she’d met Windrose, she came up with just a vague haze. “I… don’t know.” In fact, an awful lot of her time in Light’s Edge was a vague haze. It was like her memories had been badly blotted and crudely rewritten. “Must’ve had a lot of beer to drink.” “Did you actually get beer or whiskey or- any sort of liquor?” snapped Windrose. “Or did you get something warm and dry, like spiced cider or hot cocoa? Because you came from way down south, and after I’ve spent days traipsing through the Frozen North nonstop, the last thing I want to do is feel woozy from alcohol.” “Um…” Yet Daring clearly remembered ordering hot cider. After that, the bartender had directed her to a corner, where… And then everything turned hazy again. Windrose didn’t wait for an answer. “See, I’m… my initiative’s not the greatest. I wouldn’t’ve just walked up to a stranger and started talking about getting hired.” She started making shaky gestures. “But maybe if, if I’d heard you talking to somebody… Can you remember trying to hire any, I don’t know, freelancers or something?” Daring had asked the bartender for some tips, and then… nothing. She’d spent an entire day lounging around after that, something she normally wouldn’t do unless she was waiting for someone. But who or what was she waiting for? She couldn’t remember. Her conclusion must’ve shown on her face, because Windrose said, “You can’t, can you?” She started pacing, waving her hoof at nothing in particular. “So I can’t remember how we met,” she continued, her voice growing in speed and pitch, “and I don’t even see how we could’ve met if you hadn’t been talking with someone else. Then there’s all the rough-and-tumble adventurers you could’ve hired in Light’s Edge, and for some reason you only go with a single cartographer?” She stopped pacing and looked Daring in the eye. “We came in here with other people. I know we did. We had to. I wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t. And I don’t remember anything about them. They… I don’t think they exist anymore. They never did.” A little warning flag went up in Daring’s head. Maybe Windrose was just talking crazy. But if she wasn’t… “You think Needle Vale’s rewriting history?” Daring asked. “Or- something.” Windrose rubbed the back of her neck and looked away. “I… know it sounds crazy, but I never would’ve come out here alone. I get holes in my memory whenever I try to remember what I was doing when I met you or at other times in the past week. I mean, how did we get back to our bags after that wolf attack?” If Daring had been somepony else, she probably would’ve dismissed the idea out of hoof. But she’d seen too much weird stuff in her time for that. And once she accepted that, it made far too much sense. The gaps in her memory, heading into Needle Vale with only a cartographer, her behavior in Light’s Edge… It felt like she was missing something because she was missing something. Someone. Daring thought, trying to remember a name, any name. But she came up with nothing, every time. She only remembered herself and Windrose. Sometimes, she caught strange spots where there should’ve been someone else yet wasn’t. She’d hired others. She wouldn’t have done it any other way. And now they were gone. Because they’d followed her in. Eventually, Daring got enough control over herself to swallow. “Just to play draconequus’s advocate,” she said, sounding not quite as nervous as she felt, “you don’t think that maybe it’s just our memories that are getting messed up, and-” “No, it’s way worse than that,” Windrose said quietly. “It’s not just things in this valley. How many other groups have come in here and vanished?” And Daring swore she felt her heart stop. However many people she’d taken in here, they were gone now, like they’d never existed. All of them except Windrose. There was an entire Equestrian facility set up to study the place, stocked yet unstaffed. That cave at the tail end of the first valley hadn’t been hard to find, if you were persistent. The weather wasn’t even that bad, once you got used to it. And yet, somehow, everyone in Light’s Edge had said that no one found anything in Needle Vale. That no one vanished in Needle Vale. But that was only true for people they remembered, wasn’t it? Windrose was still talking, pointing out the obvious. “I, I mean, do you really think you’re the first pony who’ll, boy, give it the old college try and really get it done this time? The first one who’s that determined? The first one to make it this far? The first one that-” She gestured at Daring with a shaking hoof. “We. Need. To leave. Now. Before- Before anything happens to us.” She looked around the forest and pulled her cloak tight. How long had this place been swallowing ponies and reindeer up? Decades? Centuries? Even longer? Stories about Needle Vale went back to before Celestia and Luna taking the throne. Surely somebody would’ve taken it upon themselves to investigate. And then they’d vanish and no one would remember them anymore. Over and over and over and over and over and over. It must’ve happened recently, even. That facility had been well-supplied and built to last. Celestia had known something was up, so she had a station set up to monitor it, and then… Had they all gone at once, or slowly, one by one? She settled down onto her rump and took long, deep breaths. It felt like the air was crushing her. It was one thing to see someone die in front of her. It was another to realize reality itself had apparently decided to forget them. It was… Daring couldn’t put it into words. Wrong. Like the universe was lying to her and she had no evidence against it. But maybe- Daring dove for her bag and started throwing things out. Where was her journal? Where was it where was it where was it… “It’s not gonna help, whatever you’re looking for,” Windrose said humorlessly. “This is-” “Not that,” said Daring. Her journal was mashed at the bottom of her bags. “Maybe, if I wrote something about them…” But the only names in the journal were hers and Windrose’s. Her writing felt stilted, like somepony was trying to imitate her and doing a poor job of it. It wasn’t just their memories the others were missing from. It was probably everything. Not just here, either, but far, far beyond the valley. All traces of them. Whoever they were. Gone. Wiped from history. “They’re not there, are they?” Windrose’s voice was devoid of hope. Daring felt like she was being judged and found wanting as she put the journal away again. “…No.” “If we stay in here,” Windrose said, “it’s only a matter of time before-” “We can’t leave,” Daring heard herself say. “Not yet.” Silence fell. The wind didn’t blow. When Windrose blinked, Daring wasn’t sure she couldn’t hear it. “I… I’m sorry, what?” asked Windrose. One of her ears was so far back it was nearly pointing straight down. “But… you… We…” “There’s still something in here,” Daring insisted. But she wasn’t feeling it. “If we can find it, we can put a stop to this, and no one will vanish again.” Her words were hollow. Was she just a glutton for punishment? “You know what else can do that?” snapped Windrose. “A great big sign that says-” She swept her hooves wide. “-‘If you enter here, you will definitely die.’ We go back, tell everyone, and the place is sealed off. Done.” Daring wondered if her desire to stay back was reflexive, born from a prior lifetime of not knowing when to quit. Of course, then, everything had worked out just fine. “But if I- we don’t find anything, everyone else who came here will have… vanished for nothing.” “THERE’S NOTHING OUT HERE!” screamed Windrose. “We came to this place, and all that’s happened since is- is- Oh, Celestia.” She collapsed onto the ground. She turned her face towards Daring, but her eyes were unfocused, like seeing was too much effort. “I’m gonna die out here,” she said tonelessly. Sobs wracked her chest. “I… I’m gonna die… and… and nopony’s even gonna r-remember me. N-not even my f-family.” Tears trickled down her face. It was hard to tell whether the sounds that escaped her were from her crying or laughing. “I j-just wanted t-to make some sunblasted money…” “Listen,” Daring said. “It…” She shuffled from hoof to hoof, awkwardly staring at the ground. She walked up to Windrose and laid a hoof on her shoulder. “It’ll be-” Windrose swung, catching Daring in the jaw. Daring toppled away into the snow. “You get the fuck away from me!” Windrose roared. “This is your fault! You brought us out here! You didn’t turn around! You’re the only other one left! Nothing would’ve happened if not for you!” “I didn’t know!” But the chill of the snow was getting to her where Windrose’s words weren’t. She didn’t know, but the decision to keep moving after the amnesiatic episode was on her. Any others would’ve been hers, too. When had her other team members vanished? Where? Had anything strange happened then? “I- didn’t think…” Her voice trailed into silence. She didn’t know Needle Vale would erase them from history, and even with her memories getting yanked from her mind, she’d still assumed she could handle it. “How many times did I say that we needed to turn around?” Windrose asked. “Six? Seven? Maybe ten times that and we just can’t remember. I told you something was up! And you said that was the point! And now you’re-” Windrose suddenly stopped talking and turned as still as a statue. She stared at Daring, her eyes filled with determination. “I’m going back. Goodbye,” she said decisively. She turned around and walked south. “Wait, hold on.” Daring quickly flew around and landed in front of Windrose. “What’re you doing?” “I’m going back to Light’s Edge alone,” said Windrose calmly, “and I’ll rip your wings off if you try to stop me.” She pushed Daring aside and kept walking. “I only came for the money. You didn’t pay me enough to die.” “But-” Yet Daring knew nothing she could say would slow Windrose down. It was for the best, probably. She didn’t want to be here; why try keeping her? She took a deep breath. “Fine. Be seeing you.” What else was she supposed to say? She turned her back on Windrose and headed north. “And you’re still walking?” yelled Windrose. “Don’t bother! There’s nothing up there! But, oh, you don’t care, do you? You’re just so close, just like you’ve been for the past week, and it’s never worked before, but this time! This time! This time! Somehow, you’ll find out what’s going on and that’ll make it allllllll better! Just like everyone else who’s come in!” Daring’s wings stiffened and her jaw clenched. Her walking became automatic, stilted. But she said nothing and she didn’t stop. Trees and mountains passed her by as the sound of Windrose’s footsteps dwindled away. After walking with her for so long, the quiet was deafening. Nothing was around Daring except the land. It was a bittersweet feeling: she was finally unburdened, yet she was letting somepony walk away into the wilderness. She pushed the thought to the back of her head and walked and walked. And walked. And walked. After about a minute, far in the distance, Windrose screamed out one last parting shot. “Even if I remember you, I won’t mourn you, you stupid, sunblasted stot!” The echoes faded. Silence fell. The forest closed in. Nothing moved. And Daring was alone. It was almost a relief, in a way. She could keep walking and she’d only have to worry about herself. And Windrose could take care of herself. She’d be fine. She was tough, she was an earth pony. She’d fended off that wolf days ago with no problem. She’d be fine. Right? Right? Daring’s mind kept going back to Windrose as she walked. She’d never had a split quite like that. No matter how much she told herself otherwise, she felt like she was abandoning Windrose. Even though the other way around was more likely. The land felt far too still, cast in stone and painted over. There were no animals, no winds to make the trees so much as twitch. Nothing. Daring found herself missing the sound of Windrose’s footsteps. It was probably the cold. It was too easy to get caught in the open and die from frostbite or hypothermia this far north, and company made it easier to stay alive — from shared body heat, if nothing else. Deserts felt the same way. And two more eyes made it easier to watch out for predators. Daring stopped walking and turned in a circle. No predators. Hopefully, she wouldn’t meet any that night. Dinner was quiet. Darkness pressed in around her, in spite of the fire’s valiant attempt to hold it back. Alone with her thoughts, pressing on seemed less fun than it had a week ago. If she turned around, the world wouldn’t end. No evil force would take over; Needle Vale had sat for millennia and might sit for millennia more without affecting those around it. She was only satisfying her own ego by continuing to move on. And her ego definitely wasn’t- No. She couldn’t go back. Not now. She needed to find the source of Needle Vale. To end this. But did she need to do it alone? She knew nothing about time magic. Or whatever kind of magic this was. She needed experts, a team, skilled arcanists- No, she needed to stay out of the way of the experts, the team, and the skilled arcanists. It wouldn’t be hard. She could turn around tomorrow, fly to catch up with Windrose, and be back in Light’s Edge in four or five days, and tell some relevant pony in Equestria — some relevant reindeer in Tarandusia, too — about what was happening, then sit back and let them take care of the problem. No. She couldn’t go back. Not now. She needed to find the source of Needle Vale. To end this. Daring hit herself on the head. Her mind felt like a broken record. Maybe some sleep would fix it. When she turned in, she absently flipped open her journal. Windrose’s name was still in there. She knew she ought to record what she’d found, on the very off chance someone else found it, but she didn’t feel like it. She was too tired, too burned out, too confused. She wanted nothing more than to lie down in her damp, frosted-over clothes and sleep. Sighing, cursing herself and the entire sunblasted valley, Daring put quill to paper and began to write. That night, nothing bothered her. Nothing stalked around the campsite. Nothing howled into the darkness. Nothing added its own harsh cries to the wailing wind. Nothing shrieked at the forest. Nothing kept Daring from sleeping.