//------------------------------//
// CHAPTER I: The Long and Winding Road 
// Story: Special Illumination 
// by ponichaeism 
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	The dirt road snaked across the rolling country hills as far as the eye could see, but if the countless leagues in front of the wandering unicorn bothered him, he didn't let it show on his face. No, his face was consumed by a pleasant, carefree, almost simple-minded smile entirely too youthful for him. This unicorn, destined for nowhere in particular, wore an aged saddlebag and a pointed straw hat with a wide brim. The mane spilling out from under it and the beard flowing from his chin were several shades darker than the lush blue of his coat. His hooves beat out a lazy rhythm on the hard dirt and kicked up puffs of dust as they charted his progress on the road. 
The road remembered those who traveled upon it, as the unicorn well knew. It was not merely trampled dirt, but a monument forged hoofprint-by-hoofprint from the once-pristine land by the weight of eons, and the procession of ponies progressing to and fro that those eons brought with them. The physical world tried her hardest to sweep their mark away, with her rain and her snow and her wind, but the time-worn road had endured. Its every scuff, pothole, and furrow told the tales of those who traveled it. Though those voyages might be lost to the tongues of ponies, they were forever inscribed on the earth. It would be their chronicler, even if ponykind would not.
The unicorn's journey was just one more story added to this river of stories.
As he crested a hill, he beheld before him the aesthetic beauty of an idyllic countryside stretching out far and wide, but he knew in his heart that it was nothing but a pale imitation of the perfect reality underlying it. Everywhere he looked, he caught glimpses of the flawless natural order's radiance shining through and manifesting itself, appearing in everything from the pleasing green shade of the grass to the mathematically perfect arc of the horizon curving in front of him.
However, one glance up at the sky overhead told him he must take care not to become part of the world beyond either. The coldly efficient clockwork mechanism keeping the universe regularly ticking away would take the sun below the horizon in a matter of hours, and he had no desire to spend another night sleeping in the fields. As he lay down to sleep under the starry skies the night before he'd heard what he thought might be the distant howl of a timberwolf carry across the open fields.
As he tried to think of a surefire way to prevent becoming a creature's dinner, something on the horizon ahead caught his eye. He halted, but the sudden stop made his weather-beaten hat slip forward and fall in front of his eyes. He had no doubt many uptight ponies would be aghast at their headgear betraying them and making them out to be fools, but the unicorn was well aware how foolish everypony truly was and in these situations did nothing but smile at the humor of the situation. The one thing he rued was that he was had nopony else close at hoof to amuse. He pushed the hat up until it perched high on his head and looked to the horizon again where, sure enough, he spied a cloud of dust being thrown up from the road ahead.
He rambled on until the he drew near to what he realized was an approaching wooden wagon, then stood at the wayside and grinned in greeting. The two earth ponies hitched to the well-used wagon slowed down as well, though the wary look in their eyes informed the unicorn that if he tried even the slightest thing out of the ordinary they would both take off immediately. But only after they found time to give him a swift kick in the head, naturally.
"Good day, fellow travelers," he ventured.
"Hullo," said the stallion. 
His mare idled nervously at his side, kicking at the dirt. A foal with a tuft of orange hair peered over the side of the cart. The unicorn smiled at him, but the mare twisted around and gave her foal a harsh glare. He quickly ducked out of sight among the family's possessions.
"Could you perhaps tell me how far the nearest village is?" the unicorn asked. "I fear there may be timberwolves about. I don't precisely have much to offer them in the way of delicacies, either in my saddlebag or on my bones, but perhaps I might amount to a fine pile of toothpicks at the very least."
"Tough to say," the stallion replied, his face hardened against the joke. "Not many folks in County Cornhaul take kindly to, well, your kind."
Cocking his head, the unicorn asked, "Whatever could they have against an Aquarius?"
Still stoically impassive, the stallion glanced over his shoulder. "There is a village thataway, name of Hollowed Ground, but you don't want to go there. Next one's about thirty miles after that--"
The unicorn laid on the innocence fairly thickly and asked, "My fine fellow, why ever would I not want to go to Hollowed Ground?"
The stallion turned his baggy, worn-out eyes to the unicorn and opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. His face had that distinct look that speaks volumes, most of them comprised of various essays on the topic of: 'You'd think I was crazy if I told you'. Fortunately, back at home the unicorn had become what basically amounted to a pony of letters in that very subject, although before he could pry, the mare went briefly wild-eyed and said in a hoarse whisper:
"Folks say it ain't quite right. Lots of strange things happening there. Unnatural, like."
The unicorn's smile deepened. Trying very hard not to sound too keen on the idea of an unnatural village, he asked, "I see, I see. And where is this village?"
In perfect unison, they both narrowed their eyes at him.
He threw up a hoof to deflect their ire and, in a reassuring voice, utterly lied, "I only ask so I know which way to avoid."
The stallion turned back the way he had come and pointed to a distant ridge of mountains poking over the horizon just slightly to the right of the road. "See those mountains? The farther you go down the road, the more forest you'll see on your right. About fifteen miles from here, you'll come to a fork. Now, you're going to want to go left, away from the mountains, because that's where Hollowed Ground is. Now once you make a left, continue straight on 'til you come to--"
The unicorn abruptly said, "Thank you oh-so-very much," and trotted right past them, still grinning.
"Don't go right!" the stallion called after him. "I'm warning you!"
Five leagues down that winding road snaking across the idyllic countryside, the wandering unicorn made a right at the fork and headed towards the forest sprawling over the base of the burgeoning mountains, both of them bathed in early evening sunlight that threatened to become the golden glow of sunset sometime very soon.


It took another half-hour's worth of walking before the tall cornrows lining the road parted. In front of the unicorn, nestled within a crescent of encroaching forest, lay a picturesque country village with stout, timber-framed houses. As the name "Hollowed Ground" implied, he saw mine entrances dotting the rocky hill looming over the thick treeline.
He knew this must be was the place, because the dread lay thick and heavy in the air. He reached out with his mind and felt the Harmony, but it was tainted by a roiling miasma of fear and paranoia lurking under the surface of the world. 
Time to get to work, then.
"Hello there!" he said happily, trotting to the nearest house. "How are you this fine afternoon?"
The old earth pony sweeping the front porch looked up, took one look at his horn, and narrowed her eyes. Her teeth dug into the handle of the broom in her mouth.
The unicorn ambled past her, still smiling warmly as if he could melt the chilly reception he was receiving, but he had no luck either with two more earth ponies who returned his hearty greeting with stony silence. The first sound of life he heard was a handful of foals laughing maliciously. 
The apparent ringleader, a yellow filly with dark gold curls, sneered, "You know he comes for scaredy-ponies first, right?"
The target of her torment, a much younger indigo filly, whimpered.
"He's gonna find you at night," said the yellow filly, "come right into your house, and he's gonna make you vanish, just like he did to your dumb little mutt. Heh heh heh."
The younger filly broke down in sobs and sank to her knees. Her wails drew the attention of a very brawny, green-coated stallion with three pine trees as a cutie mark. This stallion took one look over his shoulder at the circle of foals, scowled, and trotted over. As his shadow loomed over one of the colts, the colt gulped and started quivering. 
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Supremely bored, the gold filly said, "We ain't doing nothing but playing, Ettin. That's all."
As the unicorn drifted past them, the stallion locked eyes with him.
"No more playing," the stallion said to the filly, although the intent was plain enough to the unicorn. When one of the colts complained, the stallion backhooved him and shooed him away.
As the unicorn entered the market square, his stomach rumbled. Most of the merchants had packed up for the day, but he spotted one lone carrot-seller with naked desperation etched in every line on his face, the very definition of a pony holding out hope for one last great sale because he had debts to settle. The unicorn trotted up to his cart, shrugged his saddlebag off and dropped it as his hooves. 
But as he lifted the flap with his magic, the merchant said, "We don't accept your coin."
The unicorn straightened up. "But how could you know which kind of coin I have?" 
The cold-eyed earth pony glared back, obviously unaccustomed to being outwitted in such a manner.
"Well," said the unicorn, checking his saddlebag, "that works out for the both of us, as I've come to realize I've run out of any actual coins somewhere between the inn at the last village and, well, the tavern at the last village."
"If you've got no coin then you've no business with me. So go on and git."
"May I ask, have I been to this town before?"
"Not that I know of."
"Oh, that's a relief. For a moment there I was worried I'd done something to deserve your scorn."
"You jus' keep in mind, this is my crop. I grew it and I ain't giving you any just cause you're one a'them. You keep your little horn and your freaky powers to yourself, you hear?"
"Why wouldn't I keep them? If I gave them away I might not get them back. My friend, could you please at least tell me of work in this town that needs doing? As I mentioned, I'm short on coin and I'd very much like to eat tonight."
"Why don't you go ask that....miller," shrieked the earth pony. "Don't your kind stick together thick as thieves?"
"I know many married couples who can attest that that is not true. Thank you, you've been very helpful."
The unicorn bent down to slip his saddlebag back on, only to find it had disappeared.
Curious, he thought.
"Have you seen my belongings?" he asked the carrot seller. "They seem to have left me behind."
"I ain't falling for your tricks, you hear?!"
The unicorn ignored him and got down on his forelegs. He peered under the cart next to the carrot seller's, where the tracks in the dirt from his bag being dragged off led.
It could only have been a foal, he thought. No adult would fit under there.
Sure enough, he saw small hoofprints in the ground. But there was something else: white powder crushed into the dirt by the force of the hooves.
Flour?
The unicorn stood up and asked the carrot merchant, "Miller, you said?"