//------------------------------// // Mare of Darkness // Story: Eternal Love // by Packet //------------------------------// Five years previously the Canterlot Symphony Hall burnt to the ground in mysterious circumstances… Although the culprit was suspected, no trace of them could be found… It was assumed they died in the fire. But that was not the case… The sewers of Canterlot were baron and deserted, though they were spotless, clean and free of rats unlike what the Ponies in the world above suspected. Moonlight shined through the metal drain covers in the ceiling illuminating the bricks on the walls of the tunnels at regular intervals, with all of the bricks still as smooth and flush in their mortar as the day they had been set down. Down below it was dark, safe and surprisingly warm. That was why it’s single inhabitant liked it so. Down in the darkest depths no one could find her, she was safe. The electric colours had gone from her now untidy and knotted mane, and her coat was now a dirty and grubby shade of grey compared with how much of a radiant and bright white it used to be. He face was nothing compared with how it used to be; scars, cuts and bruises now adorned it, turning what was once a beautiful and perfect face into that of a demon. The mare slowly walked into one of the many large side chambers of the sewers. Made as excess space for heavy flood water to flow, she had worked out how to operate the door controls to one of the chambers, and closed the large, rusty steel door behind as she entered the chamber. At the end of the room, sitting in the shadows, with simple silver lines showing the moonlight reflecting off some of the metal pipes, was one of the very few possessions the pony owned, a beaten, battered, unpolished and slightly rusted pipe organ. The fact as to whether the pony legally owned the instrument was debatable. Since the fire in the Symphony Hall five years ago, the remains of the building had been gradually disposed of as plans for the new building took shape. Amongst the wreckage were the remains of the giant organ that used to rise from under the stage. Under the cover of night, over several weeks the pony had sneaked from the sewer and salvaged all the parts of the organ they could find in the wreckage. Several of the pieces were damaged or destroyed, resulting in the remade organ having a ramshackle look to it, with some of the missing pipes being made from sewage pipes and the outer casing being made from old packing crates. But the mare that had rescued it had got it to work again, and that was all she cared about. Having some way to make music, and if it meant she had to do it in an unconventional way, then so be it. The pony sat on the stool in front of the great instrument and gazed up at its pipes reaching up into the darkness that was the roof of the chamber. Inspiration, that was what she needed. She held her head in her hooves as she thought hard about her music, reminded of her past by the severe battle scars on her face. Like a flash an idea came to her mind, and she grabbed a pair of tinted glassed from the music stand above the keyboard and placed them over her face. Now unable to see the organ keys in front of her, the pony relied on her mind to direct her to the right notes to play. She raised her hooves high above her head then slammed them down onto the lowest keyboard of the organ, producing a deep bass chord that almost sent her flying backwards off the stool. The pain the powerful sound waves made on her weak body wasn't important now; all that was important was that the chord sounded perfect. Motivated by the sweet sounding notes, the mare lifted her hooves off of the keyboard and repeated the action, this time striking a set of chords an octave higher than the last. Again she struck the keyboard, another octave higher. And again, even higher. As she raised her hooves to strike again she stopped suddenly, her mind filled with a memory she wanted to forget. Wanting to strike out at her subconscious she ripped the glasses from her face and threw them down cobbled floor, scattering the shards of the glass lenses across the floor of the room. She slumped down over the keyboard and buried her head in her hooves as she cried and tried to forget, causing the organ to let out a deep, powerful clash of notes. A few brief minutes passed before the mare lifted her head and looked down at the floor at her broken glasses. Just by looking at them she was filled with hate, to her they showed her what her life used to be like, full of parties, and loud music….and friendship. In one case more than just friendship, love. A love which would never die inside her heart. She used the power of her unicorn’s horn to gather the entire tiny, bead like glass fragments and glasses frame and rest them on top of her organ casing. She looked at them in disgust. It wasn't as if she was going to wear them again, she felt as if she would be hanged if anyone ever saw her again and realised who she truly was. If she was ever to venture out into daylight again she knew she’d need something that would cover her face more to hide the horrific injuries and stop drawing attention to herself. Getting down from the organ stool the thoughts of her undying love filled her mind as she walked over to a pile of rags that made a rough bed, removing a battered leather bound scrap book from underneath. Flicking through the pages she was reminded of her past, photographs of her and the friends she had made throughout her life were plastered onto the pages. As she proceeded to flick through even more of the book newspaper articles began to appear, not documenting the exploits of her though, but of another mare. She extended a hoof and gently touched one of the photos she had taken of this mare, in her simple white collar and pink bow-tie, leant up against her cello. She sobbed as she spoke to herself “My Octavia, I’ve lost you” Other photos also appeared of Octavia as the mare continued looking through the pages, far more than of any other pony in the book, proving that the mare had a strong connection to this mare, almost an obsession. The photos showed the lifestyle the two had had, even becoming flat mates in the final months they knew each other. In all that time the mare had felt wild feelings of passion for her, yet had never had the guts to admit it to her. Then, the night when she finally plucked up the courage to confess to her, it happened. The fire at the Canterlot Symphony Hall. Several cuttings in the book revealed to the mare the extent of the damage to the building and the lives lost. She felt the injuries to her face as she remembered that night in vivid detail, the surge of magic from her horn, the blazing heat, the orange flames, the screaming, Octavia screaming. She remembered how she had had no option but to run from the building, she hadn't even had the chance to rescue Octavia due to how she was cut off from her. She knew she’d hurt her face because she could feel the blood trickling down her forehead and cheek, but she felt no pain. The shock of what was happening cancelled out any pain in her body. Once outside the great building she turned back to look at the scene of destruction, just in time to see the great glass dome on top of the building collapse in on itself and into the inferno, sending embers high into the Equestrian night sky. One of the ponies in the crowd of survivors had caught sight of her and alerted the Royal Guards, who had chased her through the labyrinth of the city. It was as she’d been running that she’ noticed a drain cover, presumably opened by some curious colts and fillies. Never had she been more thankful for them as she dived down the hole an pulled down the cover after her. Now, stuck down here, her only connection with the outside world was when she would come across a discarded newspaper on one of her food scavenging hunts at night. Looking through the cuttings she had collected she had found out that Octavia had survived the fire, despite being hospitalised for several weeks due to smoke inhalation. She'd climbed the social ladder of Canterlot remarkably well with her musical talents and was now taking requests to play in venues all over Equestria. The mare turned to the final page of the book, where her most prized photograph of Octavia was kept. It was a simple shot of the both of them asleep together on the sofa of the flat they shared together, taken by their old friend Lyra, whom at the time had thought they looked adorable together. Although denying such a thing at the time, the mare couldn't keep secret the feelings she had for Octavia. Realising she had ruined any chances of living a normal life again she began to close the book up again, but paused briefly on one of the pages. On the page was a birthday card with the simple image of a double quaver, the cutie mark the mare had on her flank, or at least it was the last time she looked at it. That also reminded her of the past, and she hated it, keeping it covered with a long coat she had come across over the last five years. Opening up the card she read to herself the message inside. “To Vinyl. Have a big happy birthday you silly pony! From your best friend, Octavia” This message was enough to make Vinyl feel like she'd been stabbed right in the heart. She felt the sadness and loneliness flow through her as she placed the book back under her bed. Sobbing in the semi darkness she laid down on the rags and cried herself to sleep. She wanted Octavia back.