Sweetcream Scoops trundled towards the grotto with a flare pistol, silver picture frame and a wooden pendant of Celestia's cutie mark hidden in her salt cart, just in case. Maybe there were Prannic Vampires involved, creatures of dark magic with a pony shape that sucked the energy out of young unicorns through a kiss. If that was true, the holy symbol of Celestia would repel them, right?
Sweetcream passed the low limestone walls, veined with blue slate, edged with ferns and green slime. She took in a deep breath and gripped the big, bronze hammer used for breaking up salt chunks in her mouth.
She saw the anemic waterfall bouncing down, with jagged stalagmites of salt forming along its sides. Rims of salt lined the still, small pool near the entrance of the cave. Trickling water echoed down the many narrow little corridors at the back of the grotto.
She did not see any luminous dark energy monsters, any cackling changelings, any mad cultists of Discord or ravenous four-headed hydras. The cave floor was littered with a total absence of skulls. Nothing leaped out of the deep shadows to rend the meat from her bones and drag her living essence, naked and bodiless, before a dark throne.
Sweetcream relaxed a little, but only a little. The air on her neck felt too cool. The song of trickling water was slightly off-key. There were fewer little fish and tiny white crabs nibbling at green slime on the edge of the pool.
Sweetcream took out her scoop and set about the work of collecting salt, which was definitely the reason she had come out here. She broke up beautiful tapestries of salt crystal and scraped up the shards into her cart. She did all of this to get more salt for the ice cream machine and not at all to look casual to some score of unseen watchers with glowing evil eyes.
To ease the pounding in her chest and push down the taste of bile in her throat, Sweetcream sang.
They say the sea is green and dark, where mares can lose their souls
I have never ventured past the forest and the hills
Yet I can hear the ocean waves that beat upon the shoals
When dark winds brush the forest leaves with artistic skills…
Her skin tingled as sweat dried out. It was an old, familiar tune with a sad ending. The echoes of it rang above and below her, boosting her energy as she worked.
Sweetcream Scoops noticed how different in tone and timbre the echoes in this grotto were than the echoes anywhere else, in the cathedral of Celestia or the quarry valleys. It sounded richer. There were inflections and harmonies in her echo that she had never put there.
She'd never questioned it as a child, because the grotto had seemed such a magical place, like a slice of some other world transplanted into ponyville. Now that she thought about it, long and hard, her perception widened by shapeless fear, it didn't sound like an echo at all
.
Her magic flickered and the scoop fell to the ground. Salt rolled down an incline of rock and splashed in front of a little fish. It darted away through a hole in the stone.
Sweetcream lifted up the scoop again. She scraped with more urgency and fumbled a bit. She stopped singing in the middle of the chorus.
The echo caught up with her words. Then it continued on after her. It finished the entire chorus. Then the "echo" started the next verse.
Sweetcream resumed her singing, taking her cue from the voice in the cavern's depth. Her voice cracked a little, but she managed to keep pace. The voice came from the seventh hole on the left, the one that lead straight to the half-submerged chamber where she'd hidden her "pirate booty" as a little filly, and then spent half the night crying because said "booty" had been ruined by the damp.
It was a place that an adult pony could just squeeze past the entrance. As she wriggled her way in, she reflected that a figure which looked voluptuous and feminine on Mrs. Cake just made customers ask her if she'd been eating half of her supplies.
After much grunting and struggling, Sweetcream emerged in the quartz-rich chamber. The raised mound of frosted stone met her eyes, unchanged over the years. Just beyond it, water lapping at their hooves, were all the missing ponies. She froze. She blinked.
Nopony moved. Berry Punch was leaning down, mouth open for a big gulp. Colgate leaned down with a silver comb raised to her hair. Her parents stood hoof in hoof, admiring a rock formation that brought to mind a giant vanilla sundae. Golden Harvest and Bonbon knelt in a flourishing mass of kelp and seaweed. Flitter and Cloud-Kicker stood on a ledge almost touching the ceiling. What was going on?
Relief shuddered through Sweetcream's body. They were only statues. She recognized the light glinting off the crystal glaze and the utter stillness of eyes and lungs. Nothing had really happened to them.
Before she could finish slowing down her heart, a new unease crept in. Who would make perfect statues of these ponies and set them all up in a dark, hidden corner of a cave? And how could anypony make statues this detail-perfect, right down to the tiny scar on Cloud-Kicker's flank, or the swelling from ingrown hairs around Golden Harvest's muzzle?
"Do you like them?"
Sweetcream gasped. The voice was bitter as salt-water, beautiful as the crystal caverns, and deep as the ocean itself. The long, sorrowful face it came from was noble. The sensual lips shaping every word begged to be kissed.
It was a figure a lot like Lyra, the same mint-blue color scheme, but the horn was longer and sharper, the figure handsome and manly, and instead of hind legs, it paired down to a long, sleek, flipper-tipped tail.
To her credit, Sweetcream Scoops didn't run or scream. She overrode her instincts and cleared her throat. "They're very…life-like."
The seapony smiled. It wasn't a bloodthirsty leer or an ear-to-ear psychotic grin. It was the tight little smile of an artist who is flattered by another artist's praise and trying to stay modest.
"I tried to capture their essence," he said. He flicked his tail in the direction of Berry Punch. "That one could use work, I know. It's so obvious. Berry Punch, the lush, drinking something. She should have more suggestion of energy, motion stilled, something that says she's about to start humping your leg or throwing lanterns at the moon."
"Nobody's perfect," Sweetcream said, shrilly. "I mean, it's still quite good." She remembered, belatedly, that she'd left the silver, the holy symbol, and her big, trusty hammer back in the main chamber. Her throat tightened while her bladder relaxed.
"Oh go ahead, don't hide your feelings. I'm open to criticism. What, do you think I'll turn on you in a narcissistic rage and petrify you?" he said, laughing.
Sweetcream Scoops shifted her tail to wipe away the spreading pool of warmth and wheezed out a ghastly parody of laughter.
The seapony's smile evaporated. She saw her tight, terrified face reflected in his deep, pure-blue eyes.
"Oh no, no!" His voice trembled with hurt. "How could you even think that?"
"Er?" she squeaked. Her hooves backed towards the entrance of their own accord.
"No, I'd never hurt you. Or freeze you in crystal. I mean, no. This is all about you."
Sweetcream Scoops blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
The seapony shimmied through the shallow water, tail beating the pool into a froth.
"I won't hurt you because I care about you more than anypony. You're the one who brought me here. You're the one who sang to me ever since I was newly hatched. Your voice was the thread I followed when I got lost in the dark catacombs beneath the cave, too far in to ever find the open seas again. When the changelings drove us out of the underground caves, your old stories gave me hope."
The light intensified in his lidless, pupil-less, white-less eyes.
"And now I've found you." His voice trailed off. "And, um, I'm just realizing how creepy and desperate and stalkerish that sounds."
The world shifted beneath her hooves. Sweetcream Scoops remembered all the songs she'd sung here, all the secrets she'd confessed. She blushed and squirmed. She thought of the night she'd spent, shortly after returning from canterlot, when she'd caught a performance of the Trans-Equestrian Orchestra on their world tour, and her friend Lemon Hearts had said "You could join them if you tried." She'd retreated into her cave and spent hours drinking and sobbing, and then a few more hours weeping and retching. All that time, there had been another lonely soul on the other end.
It was a little creepy, yes, but also a little sad, and sweet. She didn't see a magical monster or a figure out of folklore and legend before her. She saw a lonely little colt who thought he'd just blown his one, big chance.
One. Big. Chance.
"I don't think it sounds horrible," she said, choosing her words carefully. "But, er, why did you do all of this?" She waved her tail around the chamber. "For art's sake?"
The seapony sighed with relief before answering. "Well, not just for the art. I would have starved to death here without the Earth Ponies."
He winced and waved his hooves as she flinched back. "No no, it's not like that. We don't eat landponies. I just needed their natural magic. It helps the kelp grow faster in shallow water." He plucked off a strip of seaweed and crunched it to prove his point.
She covered up a giggle and snorted. There was just something about his flailing, terrified awkwardness that amused her. Multi-colored light flickered at the other end of the tunnel, and the cave rattled in sympathy with some loud sound. It wasn't just his awkwardness and infatuation, or his handsome looks. It was his voice. Every word had a deep resonance that ran shivers down her spines, mostly in a good way. She could listen to it all day and night.
"it's simple really," he babbled on. "I just pulled them in with a low-effect siren song and then hit them with my crystal casing spell. I can use the pegasi weather-magic to help shape the sea currents, and the unicorn magic, which comes naturally anyway for me, is something I can channel to break through the cave and open up a path for my colony to follow. I still don't understand landpony culture, but you don't seem to value art the same we do." He blanched. "I mean, no, that's not what I meant at all. I know you really care about your art, but the others around you don't seem to recognize it, or support you. I know in my colony nobody would expect a great singer like you to shovel out ice cream."
The seapony's eyes blazed, and she could see in that icy wrath a tiny portion of her own hate. It was dulled, and she had worked hard to bury it, but it was still there. He was right. This world in the land was so unfair, and everyone had bad priorities that stacked the deck against her.
"You could be a queen," he whispered. "I mean, everyone would treat you amazing, especially since the warm seasons have turned most of us male, so there's a lot of competition. Not that I'd get possessive," he said hastily. "I mean, if you want to have a modest harem of twelve or twenty colts I wouldn't have any problem with that. Er, not that you'd necessarily pick me first for your harem. Oh Dagon damn-it. There I go again, making assumptions and sticking my hoof in my mouth."
Sweetcream Scoops swayed on her hooves. Twenty. Twenty. She pictured a vast coral concert hall, with a crowd of a hundred, a solid fifth of which would be cuddling up in her bedroom to celebrate. No, it wouldn't be a hundred. It would be thousands. Her songs would reinvent seapony culture. Statues would rise of her. The promise was all there, hovering in his words and blazing blue eyes.
Berry Punch would be so jealous when-
Her eyes drifted to the frozen figures. She wondered if Ruby Pinch had found a place to sleep yet.
"It sounds like a great idea," she said, careful not to let her voice change. "Do you need any more for your collection?"
"Oh, don't worry, I won't try to freeze the whole town," he snorted. "I'm not some megalomaniac who thinks he can get away with everything. I'm just picking two or three more before I open a way. If the other seaponies want some commissions, well, that's up to them." He shrugged. "Speaking of which…"
He raised a hoof for patience, then hopped onto the stone and wriggled over to the cavern entrance. The seapony sang low and high, a swaying tune with no beginning or end, full of longing. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her heart ached, literally, and her breath caught. The song played on, until the familiar bulk of Big Mac struggled at the chamber entrance.
With a grunt, the vast earth pony widened cracks in the thin limestone and shrugged his way inside.
The dream of an entire adoring species of fans flared bright in her mind, but it struggled for space with an image of little Apple Bloom and old Granny Smith straining to buck a fruit-laden tree.
Sweetcream Scoops smothered her dreams with self-loathing once more. She reached down into her lungs and sang a sharp note of discord, interrupting the seapony's song.
Big Mac hesitated. The seapony glared at her, annoyed, and then renewed his song with doubled intensity. His horn flashed, and the water in the center of the pool glowed white. Tiny crystals coalesced on its surface. Big Mac puckered his lips, ready to drink.
The song had no words, but Sweetcream could sense the shadows of words behind it, and make out the familiar strains in that rich, alien tune.
Come into the water. Come into the water. Come and drink our bitter beer.
Sweetcream drew a deep breath and belted out Commander Hurricane's death aria. It was a song of rage, and passion, and futility. It was the commander fighting to the last breath, with broken wings and broken limbs, and the stage directions would have the actor coughing out fake blood at every pause and rest in the words.
I am invincible because I wish it so. My body may break, my mind may crumble, but you cannot touch the heart and soul of me. This blood is victory. I can hear the storm chanting my name.
Big Mac swayed back and forth. The clouds lifted from his eyes. He turned around, covering his ears, and trotted back the way he came.
The seapony stopped singing and frowned. "What did you do that for?"
He still didn't get it. Good. Then he wouldn't expect this.
Sweetcream Scoops filled her lungs, prayed to Celestia this would work. She hit the highest note she'd ever struck.
Crystals shattered. The roof trembled. Berry Punch, Golden Harvest, and all the other statues burst free and fell to their hooves, gasping and shaking.
She expected the seapony to scream like a quarry eel or turn on her with eyes full of hate. He didn’t. He just looked hurt and shocked. His eyes brimmed with tears.
Meanwhile, the ground beneath him rumbled. She remembered something about "the rest of my colony."
"Run," Sweetcream Scoops said. Berry Punch looked around and groped with her tail for a bottle.
"But I've got some very important specimens--," Golden Harvest began.
Sweetcream took another big breath. She could hear rushing water building force, see cracks in the rear wall, and sense the thumping of distant hooves.
"RUN!"
Sweetcream decided to lead by example. She heard her friends and neighbors pounding after her. On her way out of the cave, she saw Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Twilight heading in.
Sweetcream collapsed when she felt she was a safe distance away, and when she'd crashed into a wall. She heard sounds of rage and pain from the seapony and his comrades. Bits of frantic words echoed out to her.
"If I can just channel the elemental power into a--" Twilight's voice began.
"Looks like Sushi's on the menu!" Rainbow Dash cried, preceding a loud chomp and another scream of pain.
"You dirty little mother-buckers, if I see any of y'all in my town again I'll use your cloacas for--"
Fluttershy, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie were heading upstream in a sailboat, powered by Rarity's Dramatic Breeze spell. Sweetcream Scoops had seen it used to show off capes and similar items in ponyville fashion shows.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, Sweetcream resolved to offer free ice cream to any of the element-wielders if she met them, but their paths never crossed. She was a bit relieved by that. She wouldn't have known what to say.
She went back into her room at lunch break. She counted up her savings, and found them to be much higher than the cost of a trip on the Canterlot express, and maybe even enough to cover four months of rent at a low-scale apartment.
"Darling!" her mother squealed, tackling her in a smothering embrace when she headed downstairs.
"Your mother and I are so proud of you! I know you're singing gig didn't work out, but really, you're amazing. Didn't I always say you'd grow up to be a great ice-cream salesmare and save us from a half-pony monster out of myth and legend?"
Sweetcream laughed as she squirmed out of her mother's vice-like grip.
"About that," she began.
"I always said you had it in you. You've really been moving the surplus rum raisin today," Double Scoop said with conviction.
"No. No I don't have it in me," she said in soft, precise words that carried more than a shout.
Her parents frowned. "What are you talking about, sweety-cream?"
"I hate icecream and I hate this job. I love you both, but I hate living under your roof. I'm going off to Canterlot."
"But you'll never make it there!" Vanilla Scoops shrieked. "You tried that and we both agreed it wasn't the right choice for you, remember?"
"No, you agreed and then let me know I'd agreed," Sweetcream said, struggling to keep her voice level. A spark of magic shot into the nearest tub of wildberry swirl. "I'd rather be a failed musician than a mediocre ice-cream mare. So maybe I can't be the lead singer of the Trans Equestrian Orchestra. There's lots of bands and concert halls in Cantlerlot. I'll work on my lower pitches and timing. I'll see if there's an opening in the indy bands, or in the classical ensembles, or maybe even get back into opera. I'll keep trying until I run out of rent money, and then I'll sleep under rocky overhangs and eat grass."
Her mother stammered. "Darling!"
"We love you," her father yelled, foam spraying from his lips.
"I know," Sweetcream said. "That doesn't change anything. I've packed my bags and promised Golden Harvest and my other friends I'll write. Goodbye."
She sighed. "I love you too, but I'm still leaving. I might visit home for hearth-warming eve if you can get used to the idea."
She turned, pushed open the doors, and charged away.
A few minutes later she turned around and galloped back, because she'd forgotten to ask for her security deposit back. But after she weathered out another argument and struggled to keep her temper by imagining all the good uses her mom and dad would be put to if she'd left them behind in the cave, she got it from them.
Then Sweetcream Scoops galloped off into the horizon for good.