As the pendulum knocked over the sixth of the precisely positioned wooden blocks semi-circling it, Starswirl jotted the time down in his notebook. As he looked over the figures and did some very quick calculations in his mind, he smiled to himself. Even accounting for margin of error, the numbers were too precise to be very far off; he could compute the rest of the data easily.
Time for bed, then, he thought, wiping his quill off with a rag.
A breeze made the candlelight in front of him flicker.
He raised his head and stared at the flickering flame, holding his breath and straining to hear where the wind was coming in from, yet the hall was deathly quiet. He reached out with the Harmony, but the townfolk's dreams and nightmares--more of the latter than the former, judging by how tense the air was--cast a pall over the village. They were all asleep in their beds, slipping almost entirely into the Harmony and drawing on its connection to fill their heads. Perhaps they were even seeing mysterious mares trying to help them through their problems.
He doubted it, though.
Shrugging, he looked back down at the notebook and started drying the excess ink.
A shadow flitted through the air overhead.
Starswirl jumped to his hooves and reared back. His eyes darted to the rafters' dark corners, each one of which was alive with shadows cast by the inconstant flame of his candle. He lit his horn up, letting its light probe the ceiling's recesses, and walked around the room with his head held high and his eyes skyward.
Something rattled against the windowpane.
He twirled in place and aimed his light at it. His heart pounded against his ribs.
But it was only a fierce wind picking up outside, making the window rattle in its frame.
That's all it was, Starswirl. Just the wind.
He lay down heavily on the bench.
Why? he asked himself. Why was he so nervous? Why was he losing his focus? For seven years, he had maintained his composure and his connection with the Harmony. Why now?
Perhaps it is the town itself, he thought. Its supreme unbalance is affecting me. After all, we reflect the world, and the world reflects us. Perhaps my unease and discomfort is just Hollowed Ground working its way into me.
Could he resist it? Could he reverse the decay? Was he strong enough?
What am I thinking? Of course I'm strong enough, if only I allow myself to be--
"Heh heh heh...."
Starswirl spun around wildly, his eyes seeking the source of the malevolent laughter. Out of the corner of his vision, he spotted a shadow stalking among the rafters. Acting quickly, he aimed a stunning spell at it and fired, but he hadn't taken the time to aim carefully. The blast impacted a wooden rafter and dented it; it was one of the beams supporting the pendulum, unfortunately, which caused the rope to swing to the side and the brass bob to veer off course.
Starswirl, it was the wind and the shadows. Calm yourself.
He shook his head, suddenly feeling very tired and worn-out. Sitting on his haunches, he weaved his magic around the broken rafter and fixed it up as best he could, then enveloped the pendulum and rope with his aura and undid the knotting. Once they were laid gently on the floor, he waved his horn at the semi-circle of wooden blocks, which then all flew through the air and arranged themselves into a stout, compact wooden brick that dropped neatly into the bottom of his emptied-out left saddlebag. He coiled the rope around the brass bob and laid that atop the blocks.
While he worked, he felt a prickling on his neck, which he ignored. It was just his addled mind, that's all.
His quill and stick of chalk joined his spares in a reinforced wooden box. He wrapped up the ink bottle with a soft cloth and put it inside as well, then latched it shut. That went in his right saddlebag, along with his more delicate instruments, the compass and the pocket clock, and his notebook. He strapped that flap closed, then started to do the same for the left-side bag.
In the curving reflection of the brass orb's dull surface, a shapeless shadow stretched down from above and opened its formless maw wide.
As Starswirl sent magic surging up to his horn, he tensed his body to spring into action. He drew a deep breath, then leapt up off his haunches and spun around while in the air. His hooves clomped down onto the floor; he dug them into the stone and prepared to unleash another stunning bolt.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
The town hall was empty and silent.
He trembled for a moment, struggling to wrest control of his body away from his deep-seated equine instinct to turn tail and flee from the odd and the unexpected. He levitated the saddlebag onto his back and buckled it around his stomach, then blew out the candle, leaving the hall bathed in the cerulean hues of his illumination spell. With a simple spell, the two empty mugs lifted themselves up and hovered at his side as he headed for the exit. Once more, the phantom breeze sounded almost like chuckling, but he dismissed it as his imagination at work, or perhaps just a broken shingle clattering against the roof. He stepped out of the hall and onto the grass--
His ears picked up at the sound of running hooves trampling grass.
"Who's there?" he called into the darkness beyond the range of his illumination spell. "Show yourself!"
Nothing answered him but the lonely wind. Keeping his eyes wide open, he sighed and started back towards the mill.
As he stood astride the peak of the town hall's roof and watched that unicorn, Starswirl, traipse off, the shadow-clad stallion summoned before his mind's eye the image of Roanan Palace, and the ferocious, snarling dragon gargoyle topping the peaked gable over the main entrance. When they crossed under it, many ponies said they felt they were being judged, and it was well they should feel that way, for the wrath of a mighty unicorn is the wrath of a dragon incarnate.
Atop that building, in that insignificant earth pony village, the stallion now felt what it was like to be that dragon gargoyle, standing tall over everypony in silent judgment.
Of course the pony living in the mill, that accursed Carmine, had torn down that monument to unicorn power and replace it with a place of democracy. What an affront to the natural hierarchy of unicorns! Only the strongest unicorn may rule, after all, and the shadow-clad stallion was stronger than everypony, or he would be, soon enough. And once he was, he would march up that grand approach to the Palace of Roan and he would take his rightful place as ruler of all unicorns. No, ruler of all ponies.
At this point, the desire burned so strongly in him solely to spite what Carmine had done to him. And, for that matter, what Carmine intended to do with him.
But once he had utterly destroyed Carmine, well, the shadow-clad stallion had his plans....
And speaking of plans, the stallion witnessed the other pony returning home. It was not Starswirl, but the unseen third witness to the wizard's little nervous fit that the stallion had drawn over to the hall by the deft hoof of his craft. Tomorrow, the trap would spring shut on Starswirl, and if he survived that, then the shadow-clad stallion would conjure them anew until he had broken the wizard into pieces.
After all, it was much easier to destroy than create, as the foolish unicorn wizard would soon learn.
The stallion leapt off the roof, the energy of his magic-infused form streaming away into the windy night behind him, and landed lightly on the grass. He felt himself burning through magic quickly. It would leave him entirely before long, but he still had enough for one final task. He glided through the pathetic little earth pony village, each stride of his propelling him swiftly among the decrepit hovels, until he reached the mill. He peered in the window, where Starswirl was laying his chin down on a pillow.
Not yet....
The stallion lifted himself up into the air and peered through the second-floor windows. The stallion curled his lip as he saw the sleeping figure of the accursed unicorn who'd sealed away his power tossing and turning in his sleep.
But not yet. Not only was the stallion still building up his power, it was too soon for Carmine to feel the sword. Far too soon.
He circled around the mill until he hovered outside the useless little filly's bedroom. He seethed as he stared at her, so precious and angelic looking as she dozed.
Her.
Before he got to work on Carmine, he would destroy her. Nothing in this world would give him more pleasure. But it was still too soon. First, he would have to take care of her precious wizard guardian. As the stallion's magic burned away into the night air, he glided back down to the ground and peered in the first-floor window, where he saw to his pleasure Starswirl was unconscious.
Go ahead and sleep, the stallion thought, smiling wickedly.
The shadow-clad stallion reached out with that universal connection that Starswirl and the other Varnetians called the Harmony and touched the unicorn's mind. It would take the last of his magic to do this, but in the forest, there was plenty more where that came from. So, as the stallion had done the night before, he delved into the wizard's deeper mind and dusted off the image of that pegasus that so often haunted the storied halls of his memories. He set her image, and the long-buried regret and remorse entwined with it, to dance before the sleeping pony's eyes, where they would haunt him for the next eight hours.
Starswirl shuddered in his sleep.
Then the last of the stallion's magic burned away into the night, and the shadow was clad no more.