“Have you been having nightmares too?”
“Yes. Whenever I close my eyes, I’m haunted by those ghastly images!”
- Twilight and Rarity
Rarity wandered east across the sea, passing out of the world on her way into an ancient land. The compass hung around her neck, resting comfortably against her chest and glimmering with the reflected light of the brilliant waves and bright cloudless sky. The wind was strong but warm and carried with it the scent of old books and older ruins. A place of empty steppes and broken roads awaited her.
The compass’ amethyst needle spun like a whirlwind in its orb, never settling on any of the five pearls. It didn’t matter. She knew where to go. She didn’t know how, but she knew. The world was bright and alive, and though she journeyed to an abandoned place of bygone eons, she marveled at how flush it was with nature’s breath. A primal magic lived there, and it called to her with a beautiful and comforting song.
“Wait for me,” she whispered. “Wait for me, my sweet morning light.”
Somewhere, a choir was singing.
-
Late summer in Baltimare was a rainier affair than she remembered. After laying in at Horseshoe Bay, they’d stopped in a small village just south of the city, a green place filled with trimmed hedges, well-kept flower beds, and dark trees heavy with lush foliage. Rarity was glad to be off the boat and away from the ocean. A lady could only do so much to stave off the harsh sun and salty winds of the open sea, and she was partial to the rain anyway. She hadn’t always been, but ponies changed. Or were made to change, she thought.
They were sitting under a large awning outside a little bookshop turned café. It was small, old, and quiet. Their barista hadn’t spoken to them and didn’t smile, and though Rarity might have found that off-putting somewhere else, it seemed appropriate this morning. The silence was comfortable, and the music of the rain splashing down on the winding gravel path between the storefronts was all the conversation any of them needed. Even Pinkie was unusually subdued. Not sad, she thought, just pensive and relaxed.
Rarity sipped her coffee–black, no sugar–and sighed. The world could be such a beautiful place if one only stopped to appreciate it from time to time. And she did try to appreciate it as often as she could. She didn’t ever want it to feel stale or old, so she tried her best to focus on the little things, the details. She breathed in the wet scent of greenery and stone mingled with the heady notes of her coffee. She tried to really hear the rhythm of the rain and to really see how each drop shattered against the wide thick leaves of a nearby oak tree. She reveled in how, even underneath the awning, the misty air dampened her coat and her mane. A nightmare for her coiffure to be sure, but one well worth it.
“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” Pinkie asked her. Rarity tried to really look at Pinkie as well, to see her for what she was, an uncommonly wise pony and a kind and patient mother. Rarity loved her dearly, and in that small moment, her heart swelled. How lucky she was to walk through life with friends like Pinkie and the rest of the girls. Despite everything that she’d experienced, she knew her blessings had come in abundance. She wanted the others to know that too. She wanted them to be happy.
“No, darling, I don’t think it will. The world will change, and we’ll change with it. But that’s not so bad, is it?” She reached across the little table they were sharing and grabbed Pinkie’s hooves in her own. “After all, we’ll always have each other.”
Pinkie smiled and gripped her hooves a little tighter, and Rarity thought that perhaps her friend looked just a little bit sad after all.
“I know, I know. But Rarity, look at it.” Pinkie gestured out towards a village made empty of ponies by the weather. “Do you think… never mind. I shouldn’t say. It’s a silly thought.”
Rarity frowned. Pinkie didn’t usually hold back on account of feeling silly. “Pinkie, we’re on our way home from fighting dragons. I’m sure I can handle whatever it is you have to say. Besides, I’m your friend. I want you to confide in me.”
Pinkie giggled at that, though it sounded less relaxed–less free–than normal. “Look how empty the streets are. Except for us and her, obviously,” Pinkie gestured at the barista who was reading a book at the counter inside the café. “There’s nopony around, but the trees are so pretty, and so are the flowers and the rain and even the buildings.”
Rarity was glad to see her friend agreed with her. “Isn’t it though,” she said, releasing a dreamy sigh and fluttering her eyelashes. “Quite divine, I’d say.”
Pinkie turned her head and looked Rarity dead in the eyes, donning the same serious expression she used with her grandchildren when she wanted them to understand something important.
“Then tell me, Rarity, if we’re really… immortal,” Pinkie said, hesitating on the word like it tasted particularly bitter, “are we going to walk through towns like this in the long distant future, pretending there’s still ponies living in the empty houses just waiting for the rain to pass by? Are we going to pretend there’s an annoyed barista we can bother for coffee in the shop around the corner or a nice inn keeper ready with a bottle of wine at the tavern by the sea? Even if we still have each other, how’re we gonna deal with that?”
And to be honest, Rarity wasn’t at all sure. She didn’t know if that would even happen, if they really were immortal, or how they’d deal with Pinkie’s bleak vision if it came to pass, but she did know they had more time than anypony could dream of to figure it out.
“I don’t know, Pinkie. I don’t have any good answers. Just, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that for a long time yet. I mean, that’d be thousands and thousands of years in the future...” Rarity trailed off for a second as the enormity of that much time weighed down on her tiny pony heart, but she continued on, determined not to let it get to her. “And if that’s what happens, well, we’ll figure something out, wont we? I don’t see how it’s at all helpful to think about it so much. We’re barely over a hundred years old. That’s a problem for our future selves.”
Pinkie rolled her eyes and laughed. “Rarity, you’re a hundred and thirty. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been lying to Twilight about your age since the day she came to Ponyville.”
How dare she! And now when Rarity was trying to comfort her! Well, she thought, taking a deep breath. She was glad enough to see Pinkie’s spirit lifted to perhaps forgive a slanderous statement or two, no matter how misguided.
“Well,” Rarity sang, “shall we get going? Our train leaves in an hour, and I’m more than ready to be on my way.”
Pinkie pursed her lips, lost in thought.
“Darling?”
“I want to go to Hollow Shades.”
Oh, for goodness sake! “Pinkieee,” Rarity whined, “we talked about this.”
Pinkie raised a hoof, forestalling any further complaints from Rarity. “Yes, we did,” she said, “and you were right. It’s super risky, and there’s like a bunch of reasons we should probably just go home, but Twilight doesn’t need us for anything right now, and this–” she pulled the morse code letter from Rarity’s saddle bag and waved it at Rarity “–this is important. You know it is.”
“Of course, it’s important. I’ll have you know I take mysterious teleporting letters very seriously, especially when they’re written in code! But playing detective with half a deck of cards is hardly to anypony’s benefit, least of all our own.”
“Rarity, please, I know,” Pinkie said, clearly trying to remain calm and sound reasonable. “I know. But what if it’s something really bad and waiting to check it out means somepony gets hurt?”
Rarity winced at that. Pinkie didn’t usually try to guilt-trip her. Her friend noticed and placed her hooves back on Rarity’s, pressing down gently.
“I’m scared too…” Pinkie said. “I’m so scared. I’m scared of going home, I’m scared of going to Hollow Shades, and I’m scared of doing nothing at all. But we should. Go, I mean. What if somepony wrote this because they’re in trouble? I mean, why else would anypony send us a secret letter?”
“Well,” Rarity hesitated, hating that Pinkie was right, “it could be a trap?” It sounded weak even to her own ears, and a little angry voice inside of her grumbled at having lost the argument.
Pinkie opened her mouth to speak, but Rarity cut her off, putting on a resigned smile. “Yes, yes. You’re going to tell me we should risk it and that helping others is always the right thing to do, blah, blah, etc.” She rolled her eyes and tried not to giggle when she saw Pinkie’s enormous grin.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you, Rarity!”
“We’ll go, but we’re going to be as careful as we can, and if I feel strange, and I mean even the slightest bit unusual, or I think you’re acting, uhm, funnier than normal, we’re immediately turning around and heading straight back home. Agreed?”
Pinkie nodded fervently, mane bouncing wildly around her face, and Rarity couldn’t help but laugh.
“Come now, dear,” she said. “Hollow Shades or not, we still need to catch a train, and lest you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a gift to collect.”
She walked into the café and grabbed to-go cups for her coffee and Pinkie’s chocolate marshmallow monstrosity, then she cast a domed blue shield for the two of them to use as an umbrella. Love of rain was a fickle thing when faced with the prospect of a drenched coat and the cold that came with it. The walk wasn’t terribly long, but she’d rather reach the outskirts of Baltimare warm, dry, and in good spirits.
Rarity was very good at shield magic. In fact, when it came to creating and manipulating solid magical objects, she was probably the best there was, princesses and draconequi notwithstanding. Normally, her magic came in a gentle blue aura that matched her eyes and cutie mark perfectly, but when she really put her back into it, her creations took on a more opaque and almost glassy appearance. Her magic umbrella was hardly that, but it looked nice enough and certainly did the trick.
Pinkie walked along beside her, sipping on her drink but forgoing her usual springy step. They left the coffee shop, and though Pinkie had called a thanks to the barista, the pony in question just waved at them without looking up from her book. Rarity hoped it was interesting. She’d come to learn that being ignored for a book was maybe not always the worst thing in the world.
The gravel path wound past a few more buildings: a grocer, a farrier with a lineup of hardy looking shoes less useful for a night out than for a slog through the woods, a post office, and disturbingly enough, a butcher’s shop. Maybe there were griffons in town? Rarity scrunched her nose and looked away as they walked by.
Still, as they moved through and out of the little town, they didn’t see a single other creature. Just plants, rain, gravel, and buildings until the buildings ended. Though Baltimare–and by extension the train station–was only a short distance away, the city was blocked from sight by a scattering of woods and a few large hills. The path was familiar. Though she’d never travelled it before, she’d seen pictures of it in several books and had planned on passing through on their way home.
A particular breed of flower grew here in the shadows of the mighty maples and oaks. It fed on the nourishing song of the surrounding trees; a whisper Rarity could only hear because Fluttershy had told her what to listen for. The flowers were roses by name, but their dark petals were as small as the bells of a snowdrop, and their bounty presented in an abundance of plum colored rose hip. Unusually colored and tremendously fragrant, these fruits made for some of the most delicious jams, teas, soups, pies, and syrups.
Rarity knew, and had known for many years, that Mrs. Sparkle had been particularly fond of rose hip soup and had passed that predilection down to her daughter. So, she’d brought with her an empty wooden container, bewitched by her traveling companion to contain within it a multitude of fruit far exceeding its regular capacity. It was a small gesture of kindness to pick some berries– or were they not berries? Either way, it was a small gesture of kindness to bring home a treat for a friend when one had been away for so long.
That Rarity had spent weeks with her nose buried in Applejack’s books on botany and Pinkie’s baking recipes researching the best wild rose hip in Equestria was of little consequence. After all, she’d overheard Twilight mentioning to Spike how much she missed her mother’s cooking, and didn’t Twilight always say that a friendship was only made of what you brought to it? Really, anypony would do the same.
“Hmm,” Pinkie hummed, as Rarity magicked bushels of rose hip into the wooden box. “You should probably cast a refrigeration or stasis spell on that thing since we’re taking the long way home.”
Rarity nodded at the sensible suggestion. The box itself was a flat coffee table item meant to hold dried fruit and nuts in quartered-off partitions. The lid was made of polished wood and thin acrylic glass so that the delicious treats could be seen even when shut. Rarity had pulled it from a moving box stuck all the way in the back of a maintenance closet near Twilight’s quarters in the castle. Twilight had stuck most of the items her parents had passed down to her there, and Rarity remembered very clearly seeing this particular item all those years ago in the Sparkle family residence.
She felt her hackles stand on edge and suppressed that particularly unpleasant memory and the angry growl that came with it, choosing to distract herself with the task at hoof.
“I’ll need to seal the thing too, so it doesn’t spill all over the insides of my bags. I’m sure I’ve got a spell for that written down somewhere. I’m a bit busy with the rose hip. Would you grab my notepad for me?"
“Sure thing!” Pinkie reached a hoof into Rarity’s saddle bag, stretching her arm impossibly deep before sticking her whole head into the satchel and jerking Rarity to the right so she almost dropped the container and the rose hip she was levitating.
“Pinkie! Careful!”
“Sorry!” Pinkie called from inside the bag. “I just saw something shiny.” Rarity rolled her eyes. Most of the items in her saddle bag were shiny.
The pink mare pulled her leg and head back out of the bag and was holding Rarity’s notepad with her forelock. Rarity grabbed it with her magic and read off the sealing spell.
“Excellent! Always come prepared, that’s what I say.” She frowned after stuffing some more rose hip into the box and casting both of the required spells. She’d picked a lot, but maybe… “Oh, do you think she’ll like it?” Rarity asked, looking up at Pinkie before freezing in her tracks. “Pinkie, what is that?”
Pinkie was holding a lovely brass chain in her mouth that connected to a circular meshwork of interlacing brass knots. Within this casing was a small crystal orb holding five pearls surrounding an amethyst needle. The needle was spinning slowly, and when Rarity looked closer, she thought that the iridescence of each of the pearls seemed to emphasize a slightly different color. The whole thing was no larger than a quail egg, and the brass cocoon, intricate and beautiful as it was, made it rather difficult to clearly see the crystal, pearls, and needle at the center.
“It’s the shiny thing I saw in your bag,” Pinkie mumble around the chain. “Isn’t it yours?”
“I… maybe? I’ve seen this somewhere before, but I don’t remember owning it, and I certainly didn’t pack it for this trip.”
“So,” Pinkie said, pursing her lips, “magic then?”
Rarity sighed and sat down, sticking the rose-hip box back in her bag and levitating the chain over to take a closer look. “Yes, it would seem so.”
Rarity inspected the necklace closely, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen it before, why she felt inexplicably drawn to it, or why it felt so warm. It seemed to be giving off a familiar scent, something she was sure she hadn’t smelled in a long time and which she struggled to place.
“Oh!” she whined, tossing the thing to the ground and stomping her hooves. “This is going to be a whole thing, isn’t it? The letter, this necklace, going to Hollow Shades. Why can’t magical adventure just leave us alone?”
Pinkie raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “Maybe because we’re, you know, the Elements of Harmony?”
“Yes, obviously!” Rarity said, waving a foreleg in exasperation. “I know that! I just– urgh!” She felt silly for throwing her little tantrum, but this was precisely the kind of tomfoolery she hated. Yes, planned adventures could be diverting and even fun when in the company of friends, but getting blindsided with mystery and inconvenience usually served as a pre-amble for a bigger struggle or fight, and those came with consequences.
Rarity smiled pathetically at Pinkie. “I don’t suppose you think this is all unrelated?”
Pinkie shook her head and gave Rarity a one-legged side hug, helping her back on her hooves. “Come on, Rarity, let’s go catch a train. I’m sure Hollow Shades will be a cinch, and then you’ll get to give your present to Twilight who’ll love it and hug you and kiss you and everything will be good. You’ll see.”
Rarity blushed furiously. “I, well, ah… Pinkie, you know there’s nothing between me and Twilight.”
Pinkie nodded. “That’s ok. Friends give kisses too.” To illustrate her point, she leaned in and planted a big one on Rarity’s cheek then gave her another hug. Rarity laughed and leaned into her friend.
“Alright, alright, we’ve delayed enough. Let’s go see when the next train leaves for Hollow Shades.”
-
As it turned out, the next train for Hollow Shades–it was actually the train to Manehattan through Fillydelphia, but it detoured through Hollow Shades–left only a few minutes after they’d arrived at the station, and Rarity was glad they hadn’t missed it since the following one wouldn’t leave for another hour and a half. They’d rushed to the ticket counter and had then been forced to push their way as politely as possible through a crowd of ponies asking them for a picture or an autograph. Rarity had splurged on a private cabin. She wasn’t about to put up with that nonsense the whole ride north.
She was sitting with her head against the window, tapping her horn rhythmically against the glass as she watched the fields and villages pass by. Once upon a time, the thought of an adoring crowd meeting her wherever she went would have thrilled her. Reveling in the attention, the fame, the glamour, it was precisely the sort of thing she’d dreamt of as a teenager. And, as fate would have it, she’d been granted all of that as a both a hero and a famous fashion designer. Earned it, she reminded herself. Granted made it sound as if she’d been a passive recipient, and not the whirlwind force of style, excellence, and business acumen she knew herself to be. She still liked the attention–if she was honest with herself, she liked it a lot–but sometimes it got to be a bit tiring.
Pinkie was napping. To Rarity’s surprise, she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they got on the train. It was still well before noon, and though they’d disembarked early in the morning, Pinkie had slept a full eight hours on the boat and had then consumed her very sugary very espresso laden beverage in its entirety before they were even halfway to the train station. Her surprise had lasted a whole two seconds because, well, it was Pinkie.
She floated the mystery necklace and the letter from her bags. She’d gone over the letter a hundred times already, so she placed it on the seat next to her and focused on the necklace. Surely, it was a compass of some sort, with its spinning needle and the five pearls laid out in a perfect pentagon around it. But why would anypony ever make a compass with five directions, none of which seemed to point north?
The construction of the thing baffled Rarity. The crystal orb didn’t look hollow, but the needle was able to spin around inside it without hindrance, and the brass cage that surrounded the orb made it hard to see the needle and the pearls. Additionally, the cage didn’t actually connect to the orb in any way, meaning the compass component was floating at the center of the housing through some scientific or magical method Rarity couldn’t understand.
More than all of that–Rarity had seen many strange things after all–was the warm feeling and familiar scent the compass exuded. She knew with great certainty that she’d seen this thing before. It was brass, which was only a shade off from gold, so it wouldn’t clash with her white coat and purple mane, but it was such an odd accessory. She wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable wearing it openly. But then, why did she remember doing just that?
She took a breath and unhooked the well disguised box-clasp before placing the chain around her neck and fastening it under the base of her mane. She let the compass go and when it fell and bounced against her chest, she felt… nothing. Well, nothing spectacular anyway. No flashes of memory or insight returned to her, but the warmth of the thing did spread through her body and made her feel comfortable and loved. At least one of those things was a dangerous thing to feel, but she didn’t want to take the compass back off now that she was wearing it.
It did feel right, proper even, and she thought that perhaps somepony had made the thing just for her, specifically for Rarity, specifically for this Rarity, and wasn’t that just the strangest thought. She laughed at her silly fancies. She only knew of one other Rarity, and this sort of thing was hardly her cup of tea. No, whatever it was, it was Equestrian through and through.
Three and a half hours to Fillydelphia, she thought, and another hour to Hollow Shades. Maybe Pinkie had the right idea. Staring at the compass wasn’t likely to generate any epiphanies, and there wasn’t much else to do. She’d already finished the two books she’d brought with her, a mystery novel called In a Lovely Place and some historical fiction titled Timberwolf Runway written by Suri Polomare of all ponies. There was also the book on morse code, but that would’ve been a drab read even if she hadn’t already flipped through most of it.
Maybe something to eat would do the trick. Trying not to wake Pinkie, she left through the connecting doors and sauntered into the open commons of the trailing first-class cabin. There was a bar there and a few round tables for ponies to sit and dine at. A chandelier hung from the ceiling and the floor was carpeted in red velvet.
This part of the train was reserved for the wealthiest and most important ponies in Equestria, something that made Rarity roll her eyes. Aside from her dear departed friend Fancy Pants, she found that most of Equestria’s aristocracy were so full of themselves they’d likely pop if somepony stuck them with a needle. But, alas, she was one of them now, wasn’t she? One couldn’t go around with a title like Grand Duchess and claim friendship with one of Equestria’s rulers while also making pretense at being a common pony. Never mind magical powers, immortality, and the actual financial fortune that came with running a successful clothing empire.
Rarity blew an exasperated raspberry in the air. It was loud enough for several nearby ponies to hear, and she chuckled embarrassedly as they turned to stare at her. She batted her eyelids at them and tossed her mane before walking over to the bar, deciding that maybe she didn’t need food but a drink instead. The bartender smiled and waved at her but gave no indication that he recognized her. Trained indiscretion, surely, but she was grateful for it.
“Whatever you recommend for day drinking,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hoof. She took a seat on the barstool nearest the window as far from everypony else as the confined cabin would allow, but of course, privacy was hardly an option.
The other passengers were now murmuring to each other in quieter more conspiratorial tones than when she had first entered, and it made her want to laugh. How many more years before her legend ballooned beyond her reality to such a degree that ponies no longer recognized her on the street? Twilight had said it might happen eventually. Ponies would just assume the white unicorn they were speaking to maybe sort of looked like the Element of Generosity, but of course, she couldn’t be. Nopony as important as that would just walk around in the open and mingle. Would that be better or worse?
The bartender was mixing what looked like a martini, and Rarity approved. “Make it extra dirty, won’t you?” she asked the stallion. He nodded and flashed her a charming smile before pulling a jar of olives from under the counter.
She looked out the window and was delighted to find that the lighting in the cabin allowed her to use it as a mirror for spying on the other passengers. There weren’t many. A few ponies sat around the tables, most of them clothed in the stale drab accoutrements of propriety, many trying poorly to be discreet in their gawking. A relaxed kind of jazzy tune accompanied their droning conversations, though the rumble of the train did a fair job drowning it out.
As the bartender placed Rarity’s drink on the counter, she noticed a portly young unicorn making his way over. She recognized him from one of Twilight’s masquerades a couple of years ago. Lord Alpine Heights. He wore his dark mane fashionably and sported a honeydew coat and a feathered cap for a cutie mark. She remembered being impressed with his conversational skills right up until he’d been tossed out by Applejack for having made a few too many passes at Rainbow Dash, despite knowing full-well that she was married, not interested in stallions, and eighty-some-odd years his senior.
Rarity took a sip of her martini–excessively briny, as she’d requested–and turned an icy glare towards the newcomer. He walked with the lethargic gait developed by those who did very little for themselves, and when he spoke, he spoke with a lazy self-assured drawl. “Duchess Rarity! What a delight to run into you here.”
He was either ignoring her scrunched nose and unfriendly frown, or he was an oblivious oaf. From past conversations, Rarity had to assume it wasn’t the latter–though oaf might very well still apply.
“I’m dreadfully certain I’ve no desire to speak with you, Mr. Heights. Why don’t you find somepony a little more vacuous to charm in another part of the cabin? I’m sure they’d be much more receptive to whatever it is you think you have to offer.”
Without missing a beat, Lord Heights took a seat two stools over from Rarity, smiling brightly at her. “Ah, Duchess, you wound me. I’m afraid I’ve left you with a bad impression, though I admit I deserve nothing less. Won’t you grant me a chance to prove I’ve learned from my past indiscretions?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. Even if the grease in his voice hadn’t almost made her choke, Rarity was current with all the latest Canterlot gossip, and it didn’t paint a flattering picture of the stallion. In addition, there was something about the way he was smiling, the way he looked at her, that made her neck tingle in a very unpleasant way. She wasn’t sure what that was all about, but it made her both weary and curious.
“And I suppose coming over here and engaging in conversation without first being invited is supposed to aid in that endeavor?”
Lord Heights laughed and shook his head but ordered a drink– “whatever the lady is drinking”–before answering. “I couldn’t very well make amends or apologize without speaking with you first, but would you believe that I was planning on grabbing a drink even before you blessed this cabin with your radiance?”
He was laying it on a bit thick, Rarity thought, but it was hard not to think of him as charming. Still, she was less interested in what he had to say and how he said it than why he was making her hair stand on edge. She felt dry almost. Parched? He leaned up against the counter when the bartender gave him his drink, and it made a soft scratching sound like sand against wood. What in Celestia’s name?
She squinted her eyes and cast a very discreet revelation spell, but nothing happened. Lord Heights chuckled and sipped his drink, and Rarity wondered if maybe she hadn’t been as discreet as she’d hoped.
“Be that as it may,” Rarity said, trying to sound unimpressed and indifferent. “I’m not particularly interested in company.” She looked away from the lord and continued to sip her drink, though she kept an eye on his reflection in the window. To her surprise, he downed his whole martini in a single gulp, then looked at the window in such a way that their eyes locked.
“You carry with you an interesting accessory,” Lord Heights said. As he spoke, his eyes grew pale, and his voice transformed into a raspy whisper. “Where is it taking you, fair Avarice?”
Great, Rarity thought. Just fantastic! She closed her eyes, placed her drink down, and took a deep breath, then she turned to whatever it was masquerading as Lord Heights and faced it with all the poise she could muster.
“Do I need to worry about the safety of the other passengers?” she asked, voice so even-keel and steady she might have been reciting measurements to Haute back at the boutique. The thing wearing Lord Height’s face wheezed a scratching and poor imitation of laughter. It sounded awful, like dry wind passing through the eye socket of a sun-bleached skull.
“That is a precious thing to ask for someone to whom it matters so little,” it said. “Why pretend their so-called lives compare to yours when the liquor of ages and time itself flows through your veins?”
Rarity had heard crazy from all kinds of villains and ruffians. Two of her closest friends had turned crazy into an artform. This thing wasn’t crazy, it was unhinged, and if Rarity knew anything at all, very dangerous.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, placing a hoof over the warm compass. Touching it filled her with a sense of courage and determination. Not that she lacked either–any proper lady knew how to stand strong–but it did seem to boost those feelings.
It frowned at her, clearly displeased by something. “I promise not to hurt any of these–” it waved a hoof dismissively at the other passengers, “–creatures. I’m really only here for you. Would you like some music?”
Rarity was genuinely startled when the undercurrent of staticky jazz from the cabin’s gramophone was replaced with crisp and clear violins and cellos. An elegant if somewhat somber melody. None of the other passengers seemed to notice. The bartender continued to clean glasses, and the wealthy ponies at the tables continued to gossip and shoot frequent furtive glances at Rarity and her companion, who appeared to all the world as Lord Alpine Heights.
“I appreciate that,” Rarity said, fighting against her nerves to sound like she was maybe a little bit in control of the situation. “So, mind telling me who you are and what it is you want with me?”
Its frown deepened and it shook its head. “Disappointing,” it said. Then it looked to the ceiling and called out in quite the unnecessarily dramatic fashion, “Oh, how galling! How dreadful!” Again, nopony seemed to react to the odd display. “Though I hardly expected her to remember the name of one as lowly as myself,” it continued, “I thought she must at least understand, at least remember something!”
As it monologued, Rarity’s heart grew cold. Its shadow extended out across the floor, flailing about madly. Its skin began to slough off, flopping to the floor and revealing under the Alpine Heights puppet something else. It still looked like a pony, if the pony had been dead for weeks and left out in the desert to dry. Its skin was brown and taut, like tanned leather hide, and its mane and tail were thin unhealthy tangles the color of oxidized copper. It had no eyes, only empty sockets from which some kind of white mineral was slowly trickling. At first, Rarity assumed it was sand, but then she remembered the letter.
This, at last, caught the attention of the other passengers, who began screaming and fled from the cabin into the adjacent one. It took a moment, as many of them tried to squeeze through the door simultaneously to get out. Rarity didn’t blame them. Even to her, the thing sitting there was horrifying. Eventually, only the bartender remained, staring slack jawed at the two of them.
Rarity cleared her throat to catch his attention and smiled kindly at him. “Darling, it’d probably be best if you left too. No?” The bartender stared at her for a moment then fled into Rarity and Pinkie’s private cabin instead of following the crowd. Rarity sighed. Hopefully, that wouldn’t become a problem.
The desiccated thing before her waited patiently as the cabin emptied, though it kept mumbling to itself what a shame it was that she couldn’t remember. Rarity was at least glad it kept its promise to not lash out at any of the other passengers, though there were a multitude of ways this could still end poorly for everypony aboard the train.
“What do you want with me?” she asked again once the bartender had left.
The thing was pulled from its inane ramblings and glowered at her. “I’m called Kedir. I was once a master cobbler and a… oh, uhm… a master tailor… a seamstress. Did you know this? I guess not since you’ve forgotten everything else. Oh, Avarice!” It shook its head and wailed, and the action sent salt flying all over the bar and onto Rarity. It stung her skin where it fell, though the sensation was mild. Rarity said nothing, waiting. She’d found that was usually best in situations like this. No need to force a fight if one could be avoided. “I was like you! Beautiful! They desired me, stallions and mares alike. They weren’t really though. He made me that way! I guess after her? And you now!”
“Well,” Rarity said, frustrated and frightened. “You seemed rather more sane before your disguise melted off. Would you like to put it back on so we can talk like civilized ponies?” It was a foolish thing to say, but she was a bit frazzled and had clearly spent too much time around bad influences like Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, and Applejack, and Twilight… really, why were all her friends so tactless, honest, and bold? She decided then and there that out of all of them, only Fluttershy had any real sense to her. At least that mare was polite.
Kedir looked at her with its–her?–empty eye-sockets, expression frozen. So much for not forcing a fight, she thought. The string music continued to play, and Rarity tensed up, ready to teleport away if Kedir lunged for her. Instead, the creature spoke.
“You should give it to me and let me kill you.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Rarity asked blinking, completely caught off guard.
“Harmony is a musical term. Just a musical term. You use it to refer to an equilibrious system which does not decay and in which all parts derive maximal joy and well-being from their designated purpose. Orphic told me that. You should let me kill you. I need to drink what’s inside of you.”
Rarity ran through her options. She could probably teleport herself, Pinkie, and their bags off the train. It would hurt. Wherever they landed, the difference in momentum would be significant. She could also try her luck attacking Kedir. Her concussive blasts were nothing to sneeze at, but she thought that maybe Kedir was already dead? At least, she was something not quite alive, and blasting her might just make her angry. Rarity had been in enough fights to know that engaging an enemy without knowing what they were capable of could be the last mistake a pony ever made. Teleporting away was the better option.
She readied herself to cast the spell, but before she could even start, Kedir opened her mouth wide and began to shriek a horrible mind numbing sound. Instinctively, Rarity aborted the teleportation spell and threw herself off her seat. At the same time, she wove a new spell, a cage made of opaque diamond shaped tiles, and slammed it in place around her assailant. As she did so, a white beam of molten salt shot out from Kedir’s mouth, shattering the wall facing Rarity’s now empty stool and searing a hole straight through the cabin wall.
Rarity tried to teleport again, and again Kedir began to shriek. The wind-up to teleport was short, but not short enough, and Rarity had to transition to another shield spell, this one several layers thick, to keep Kedir’s unusual attack from reducing Rarity to a burning stain on the floor. The beam bounced off her shields and up through the cabin ceiling, tearing another hole in the train.
Rarity had to think quick. How could she neutralize Kedir, protect the other passengers, and not die herself? She looked over at the hole in the wall and grinned. Ideaaa! She moved a bit to the left and began to cast her teleportation spell again. Kedir didn’t move from her stool, but her head followed Rarity, mouth open and ready to spew liquid death. Rarity had expected as much and brought up her shields, angling them just so and making them slightly concave. When the beam hit her shield, the molten salt slid up against the curved surface and careened backwards with enough force to knock Kedir off her stool and over the bar counter.
She didn’t wait to see what became of the creature, immediately teleporting back to her own cabin. Pinkie had still been sleeping¬–despite the screaming and magic blasts just one cabin over–but Rarity popping into existence next to her was enough to rouse her. Pinkie rubbed her eyes sleepily, but as soon as she saw Rarity’s face, she bounced out of her seat, eyes alert and body tensed for a fight.
“I’m going to teleport us off the train!” Rarity yelled, heart beating rapidly. Now that she was away from Kedir, the adrenaline was starting to catch up with her, and it didn’t help that she could still hear the string music. Kedir said she wouldn’t hurt the other passengers, but Rarity knew better than to trust an insane… whatever it was she was. If she was still in a condition to come after her, then Rarity had to assume she’d follow her off the train and hopefully leave everypony else alone. “Can you make sure we don’t die?”
Pinkie didn’t waste time on questions but nodded and grabbed their saddlebags. For the fifth time, Rarity initiated a teleportation spell… but once again, she stopped before casting it. Why risk Kedir not following her? It’d be difficult, but Rarity thought she could pull it off. She gritted her teeth, planted her hoofs firmly beneath her, and began to cast the spell again. The effort was tremendous, and she was sure at that moment she looked more like a struggling weightlifter than the elegant fashion designer she was, but there was a time and a place for keeping up appearances, and this was hardly it.
With a groan that turned into a yell when she felt something odd pull on the edges of her spell, she teleported herself, Pinkie, their luggage, the entire bar, and the cabin section it was a part of one hundred yards to the left of the train tracks. The light was blinding, and the deafening cracks of a cabin ripping itself apart and then re-materializing out of thin air stunned Rarity. Her lungs burned, her eyes stung, and her horn ached, but she was pretty sure she’d succeeded.
Hovering in the air for a split second, she had just enough time to see that the rest of the train was intact and continuing on its tracks before she crashed onto the ground with an unpleasant but surprisingly pliable thud. Debris rained down around her, but most of it bounced harmlessly off of several large multi-hued umbrellas that hung in the air above her head. Pinkie’s doing.
The mare in question lay next to Rarity, and though Pinkie was essentially impervious to physical harm, she looked spent. Rarity looked down and realized she hadn’t actually fallen to the ground, but rather onto several mattresses bunched together on the grass. The fall had hurt, but at least she hadn’t broken any bones. That was going to take a lot out of Pinkie, and Rarity was scraping the bottom of the barrel as well. She wished she’d brought her sword on this trip, because continuing to fight using only magic was going to be difficult.
She stood up as best she could on the wobbly mattresses and frowned at them. They weren’t particularly thick–just enough to make her unsteady–and visually, they were an affront to the senses. Most of them were white or gray, and almost all of them were stained.
“Sorry,” Pinkie whimpered, still lying face down next to Rarity. “It’s harder when I have to go fast. Nicer mattresses take more energy and time, and I spent all the colors on those.” She lifted a weak hoof to point at the umbrellas. “Could have told me you were gonna bring half the train with you.”
Rarity winced and grimaced guiltily. “Ah, yes, sorry. That was dumb of me.” She jumped down to the grass which provided much better footing. They were in a large field of wildflowers that seemed to stretch along the train tracks for miles in both directions. “You were magnificent, Pinkie, truly one of a kind, but you need to get up, now.”
Rarity looked around while speaking, trying to spot Kedir among the wooden detritus, metal sheeting, and red velvet carpet that lay strewn all over the surrounding vegetation. The music was still playing, at least to Rarity, so she assumed Kedir must be lying somewhere out there underneath the remnants of the bar. Pinkie pushed herself to her hooves and hopped down from the mattresses, landing next to Rarity, but she was decidedly shakier and had to lean up against Rarity for support.
“I don’t–” she said, breathing heavily, “I don’t know how good I’ll be in a fight, Rares. I had to slow down time to see what was going on after you–” She stopped talking and focused entirely on breathing, and Rarity chided herself for acting like an impulsive fool. Kedir had her rattled and making mistakes.
A piece of train exterior shifted nearby, and without waiting to give Kedir a chance, Rarity sent a viciously sharp magic spearhead hurtling towards the metal sheeting. Except, it wasn’t Kedir shifting the metal out of the way but the bartender, who looked bruised and was bleeding profusely from several deep cuts. Buck! She dissolved the spell immediately, and the poor stallion almost fell over from exhaustion and surprise as a shower of white sparkles floated down around him. At least that explained the strange tug she’d felt on her magic when teleporting. She must have accidentally included the stallion in her teleportation spell, though she wasn’t sure how.
Unfortunately, this meant he was in danger from more than just his bleeding lacerations. Rarity couldn’t risk treating his wounds until she was sure what had happened to Kedir. If she got distracted, the creature might just kill them all.
“Stay there!” Rarity called. “Lie down! I’ll come over and treat your wounds as soon as I can, but right now, it isn’t safe!”
The bartender seemed dizzy and confused, and Rarity could hardly blame him. It was a miracle he’d survived the jump to begin with. Still, he laid down on the spot next to the sheeting he’d been pushing out of the way. That worked out well since it might provide him with some protection if things got out of hand. She continued to scan their surroundings. The music was still playing in her head, which made her stomach churn, but nothing else moved.
Eventually, she felt Pinkie slide down her side to the ground, and Rarity could see that she was clearly struggling to keep her eyes open. This was not an ideal situation, and they needed to do something. She couldn’t just stand there and wait for Kedir to make her move, but it was hard to think with all those damn violins playing in her head.
“Kedir!” she yelled. “I didn’t take you for a coward!” Honestly, she had no idea what kind of a creature Kedir was–other than utterly mad–but she hoped she might be able to goad her out of hiding. What had the thing said? That Rarity couldn’t remember her? She’d seemed very upset about that. “Alas,” Rarity tried, gambling, “I’ll just have to move on with my life! What a forgettable incident this has been!”
And then the bartender screamed. The sound curdled Rarity’s blood and made her mane stand on end, but not as much as the sight of him thrashing about as a mound of living highly corrosive salt seared his coat away and burned through his flesh. Rarity had never seen a pony melt before. Her stomach roiled and her knees grew weak, and for a short second her mind froze, unable to process what was happening. Just a second, an eternal stretching second during which she realized that nothing she could do would be enough to save the unicorn’s life. Still, she had to try.
She leapt into action, trying her best to pull the salt from his body with her magic. She pulled and tossed and still the salt slithered back like snakes through the grass, leaving black streaks of burning vegetation behind. She tried to bubble him, but that just trapped him with all the salt left inside, so she dropped the bubble and tried to teleport him away while leaving the salt behind, but he somehow resisted her spell. White death burrowed into his body, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t isolate it all.
“No, no, no! Come on, Rarity! Come on! Please!” Something burned her cheeks, and for a brief moment she thought it was her turn to melt. Instead, she realized she was crying. Her magic failed as exhaustion swept through her body, and despite her best efforts, her legs buckled beneath her and forced her to sit down. Her horn sizzled, hot to the touch, as she stared at the pile of sludge and bones that had been the bartender. He was clearly dead, and Rarity had been helpless to stop it. She doubled over to throw up, and as she did, the music stopped.
She looked up, eyes red and muzzle stained with vomit. The salt was coalescing into the shape of Kedir, who stood over the dead pony with an empty-eyed expression of indifference.
“You did this,” Kedir whispered, sounding eerily calm and collected. “All you had to do was give yourself to me.”
Rarity gritted her teeth, fury boiling inside her. She was weak, her magic was spent, and her muscles ached, but she would find a way to hurt this creature, to make her suffer. She tried to stand, but Kedir just shook her head.
“He has said I mustn’t kill you unless you said I could. But soon enough, Avarice. Soon enough.” She reached out a desiccated hoof and struck Rarity hard on the side of the head. For a moment, Rarity’s vision swam as the world around her grew blurry, then the darkness swallowed her whole.
-
Cheese Sandwich died that evening. Of course, Rarity didn’t know and neither did Pinkie. Back in Ponyville, the ancient earth pony passed surrounded by his son and his grandchildren. Of all the Elements, only Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash were present. Fluttershy said that it was a painless passing for Cheese, but in those last moments, he hadn’t known who he was, nor had he recognized any of his gathered family.
Though sad for all involved, Cheese Sandwich had lived a long life by earth pony standards. Cheesecake had known this was coming for a long time now, and though his heart ached for the pony his father had once been, he smiled and kissed the old stallion goodbye. Certainly, wherever ponies went when they died, his father would be at peace there, enjoying the rest he’d earned through a life of kindness and joy. Instead, Cheesecake worried for his mother. He wasn’t sure if this would be a relief to her, but he hoped that when she heard the news, she wouldn’t be too sad.
Of all those gathered, only Fluttershy could really see. She greeted Death with a nod when she came for the old pony, and Death nodded back. They knew each other well, and Fluttershy liked to think that they were friends. Death didn’t smile much, but the pegasus knew her to be kind. When the specter left, pulling from Pinkie’s husband the last embers of life, it was Fluttershy alone who wept, though her tears were few.
And so, that very night, a single letter appeared over a grassy field west of Baltimare. It was addressed to Pinkie Pie and signed by Princess Twilight Sparkle, but nopony was there to receive it, as it gently floated down onto a pile of wood and twisted metal.