//------------------------------// // 12: The Long Night Begins // Story: The Country of Roses // by Dutch Tilt //------------------------------// PART TWO 12 THE LONG NIGHT BEGINS Special thanks to Codex & Bed Head On the eve of the celebration, the ancient princess deigned not to mount her royal chariot. Although her advisors hastened to remind her of the intensive ceremony and protocol such a supreme position as hers demanded, she had responded by giving them all the night off. This had roused responses that ranged from awestruck gratitude to incoherent spluttering. What so many ponies in her service failed to realise was that in spite of her legendary beauty, Celestia was old, far older than enough to be able to make her own decisions. Whenever she reminded them of this, it never seemed to quite sink in all the way and would hit them each time like a rock to the face. The Summer Sun Celebration occurred on the same day every single year, but this was the millennial, and in its own way that was quite special. Her subjects always worked so hard to prepare for it, so it was only right that all but the volunteers be excused from their obligations. They would all be having their parties, striving to avoid sleep so that none of them would miss the raising of the sun. Many of them would catch up on their missed sleep by dozing away the afternoon in tranquillity, surrounded by friends and the bounty of nature. The princess did not like to think of it as a day to remember her triumph over a demon, but to honour the White and the beauty of harmony. For Celestia, it was an important yearly ritual to strengthen her resolve by reminding herself exactly what she was fighting to protect. The only escort she took with her were those who wanted to witness the occasion for themselves. She expressly stated that they were not to accompany her as servants, protectors, chariot-pullers or any of that other decorative nonsense. She had led the pegasi that accepted her invitation to the balcony of the tallest tower of Canterlot Castle, and from there propelled herself into the night sky. It is said in Equestria that to see an alicorn in flight is to see a vision of Elysium, and as her great glorious wings spread open and carried her up, dispersing arcs of tiny, twinkling lights in her wake, nopony would have denied it. The entourage left the boundaries of Canterlot and crossed into the skies above the lush fields and forests of her domain. The night was peaceful here, and the burning wastelands of the Red seemed many miles away, although the distance was frightfully shorter than that. Celestia opened her wings wider and ascended above the cloud line, where she turned her eyes to the moon. She watched as the dark imperfections on its silver face formed a kind of silhouette profile. A melon slice canyon became a sneering mouth, a crater its single lidless eye, staring madly out into the universe. A millennium ago, she had put that face there, locked it beneath the oceans of glowing dust. She had hoped the creature had been allowed the mercy of a long hibernation, but that eye, always the eye, told her the truth was so much more horrifying. The Mare in the Moon had been entirely aware during her long imprisonment. Worse still was that the purpose of the coming morning was to ensure she continued her suffering for another millennium. The Equestrian satellite had a circumference of around ten-thousand kilometres, and if every grain were stained crimson it would not match a fraction of the hatred that must have been coursing through the monster within. If seeing an alicorn in flight was truly a vision of Elysium, then the sight of Nightmare Moon was nothing less than a window into fiery Tartarus itself. The moon was a warning of all the darkness hiding in the universe, and she had made it that way. She gazed sorrowfully into its dark features, and she sang to it. “Once more I dance this dance alone, And sing of heartache unbeknown, Though what I did was right and true, This fate was never meant for you, “And now this night has come again, I am reminded how we were blinded, When we were torn by stubbornness and scorn, Left hopeless and forlorn.” The face in the moon transformed. It became softer, kinder, as if it drawing the image from the princess’s long memory. Whether it was Celestia’s imagination or a vision, she could not tell. Truthfully, it did not matter. The face was black, not like the fearsome black of the unknown, more like the comforting dark behind one’s eyelids before sleep descends, with a mane of twinkling stars and eyes of aquamarine. “What has become of my best friend? What brought our love to this sad end? I’ve been without you all these years, So incomplete without you here, Try as I may, to look the part.” The face changed again. This time it was Twilight Sparkle, and behind her was a cluster of shapes Celestia could not entirely discern. More silhouettes. More shadows. “My poor successor, this night will test her, I have foreseen, that she may hold the key, To set both sisters free.” Celestia was surprised to realise that, by the time she had finished her lament, she had overshot the town of Ponyville and was cresting the treetops of the great Everfree Forest. Normally she was an excellent navigator, but clearly it had been a long time since she had flown solo. She let out a sound halfway between an exasperated sigh and a chuckle, and began to circle around. Suddenly, she felt a hefty weight pull down on her left hind leg, and then on her right foreleg. Celestia let out a cry as she was hauled down towards the forest, and all at once she found herself surrounded by a swarm of black, flitting things with eyes of sickly azure fire. The things zipped and darted in two circles around her. “What is the meaning of this?” Celestia demanded. Two of the flitting things whooshed overhead, and she saw they were carrying a chain that glowed as blue as their eyes. They dropped it over her, and it wrapped itself around her middle like an iron snake, constricting her wings. “Release me at once!” she cried. “I am Celestia, princess of Equestria and guardian of the White!” “We know!” the flitting things chorused. Three of them came forward. One, the leader no doubt, had a thick handlebar moustache of feelers on his face and lank hair the colour of chalk. He wore the ruined remains of a hide waistcoat and shirt, ripped open by the growth of new wings and rows of chitinous black spikes all along his back. His subordinates were dressed in equally distressed attire. “We’re mighty glad to have ya stop by, Your Highness,” the moustached one sneered. “It’s a real honour for us all.” “What in Equestria’s name are you?” asked Celestia. “We used to have names. That’s true,” said the moustached one. “Time was when I was called Ramrod. My brothers here were named Hammer and Tongs, and who knows who else is here? Now we are the servants of somethin’ greater than anythin’ Equestria has ever known. We serve the outer dark behind the deadlights.” “What madness are you talking about?” asked Celestia. “Tell me!” “Better yet, darlin’,” sneered the hideous thing that was once Sheriff Ramrod, “we’ll show ya! Upstage, boys an’ girls, I know ya’ll have been practisin’!” It was then, as if in mocking, that the flitting creatures started to sing. It was a horrible sound, like a million insects rubbing their legs together in a combined fervour. “This hour, she’s ours! Get the princess, catch the princess! Take the princess, bind the princess, It’s so fun!” Celestia tried to channel a magickal charge into her horn, but found she could only manage a sputter of sparks that fizzled and popped uselessly in mid-air. She tried to gain altitude, but the creatures flung more chains across her wings, forcing them closed. Another length found its way around her neck. Arcs of light flowed into her, blitzing her nerve-endings and scattering charred feathers. “There’s no escape, and doesn’t she seem so surprised? This hour, she’s ours! Chain the princess, steal the princess, We got the princess! “Let her try to fly away, nopony left to save the day, We’ve sprung our trap, she’s here to stay! Let’s start the party!” The flitting things were crawling on her now, digging their claws and teeth into her flesh like hundreds of tiny thorns, sucking the life right out of her. The more she struggled and squirmed to break free, the weaker she felt herself become. The creatures’ singing became a warbling, buzzing cacophony that droned in her skull and made her temples throb with agony. “Break the princess, squeeze the princess, Hold her tight and watch how she fights, Until her pretty wings are tired, And then she’s all ours! “Bruise her, beat her, howl and rage, Then grind her down until she’s in her cage!” Celestia felt the hard slap of the ground, and then the shadows swallowed her utterly. XXX Applejack found Peacemaker back on his vigil, hunkered down just out of sight of the library’s front door. He was idly sipping cider through a straw and blocking out the excited sounds coming from inside, where Jack-a-Nape had started a round of Pin the Tail on the Pony. Applejack got the distinct feeling it would end up more like ‘run around drunk with pointy things until one gets stuck in somepony’s butt,’ and had excused herself before things escalated. “This seat taken, sugar cube?” she asked, gesturing to the grassy spot to the gun-pony’s right. “Not that I’ve seen, sai,” he replied, looking up at her and taking off his hat. “Well, ain’t you a real gentlecolt?” she teased, and sat beside him. Peacemaker offered a tiny smile that might have been sheepish. “You’re not enjoying the party?” he asked her. “Party’s fine an’ all,” Applejack replied, “but I thought I’d get me some air.” “Drink?” he asked, and tipped his bottle of cider towards her. “It’s not graf but I reckon it tastes fine just the same.” Applejack leaned towards him and took a single sip. The only alternative inside the house was mixed fruit punch, and while that was fine, sometimes she could not resist the tart, spiced taste of home. They sat in comfortable silence, if such a thing exists, for a few minutes. The scent and feel of each other, the muffled sounds of the party and the gentle, warm breeze of the summer night made for an oddly restful experience. “Nopony’s going to sleep tonight,” said Peacemaker after a while. “No, ’course not,” said Applejack. “Everypony will wanna stay up to watch Celestia raise the sun.” There was another period of silence. “Did they celebrate it where you’re from, in Gallowad?” Peacemaker’s face took on a look of deep thought. Eventually he simply shrugged his shoulders. “They may have, but I don’t remember. The world moved on while I was still small. I remember very little save for lessons and promises.” He was a bad liar. Applejack burned to know more, but this seemed the wrong time to pry without exhibiting caution. “I remember the stars, though,” he said, and she looked at him curiously. “We used to say that there were two stars in the sky looking down on all of us.” “Sure, I know what ya mean,” said Applejack. “The North and South Stars, right?” “You say true,” said Peacemaker, and he pointed up towards the sky. “To the south is Lydia, Old Mother. To the north is Apon, Old Star. Long ago they were married, you see, and they were so in love that they made all the other stars jealous. Then one day, they had an argument fierce enough to shake the heavens, and they fled to the farthest ends of the universe just to get away from each other. Neither has the courage to apologise first, yet still they work together to guide all lost souls home.” “Did your teacher tell you that?” asked Applejack. “No,” he replied sombrely. “My mother did. She used to tell me the reason those two stars are so much brighter than any others in the sky is because no matter the distance, their love for each other burned without end.” Applejack stared up thoughtfully towards Lydia as he told the story. She crinkled her nose and asked, “Your ma’ was a fan a’ that mushy stuff?” “Yeah, I suppose she must’ve been,” said Peacemaker, and he laughed. He suddenly turned his head up at an angle, and Applejack followed his gaze. In the upper boughs of the tree which housed the library was a large window, and Applejack managed to catch a glimpse of something moving out of her line of sight. Twilight Sparkle, she was certain. “Ya think she’s okay up there, Peace?” she asked. “I think she isn’t a fan of surprises,” he replied. “I can appreciate that.” He contemplated the near-empty bottle and then passed it to Applejack. “I’ll go check on her. You can finish this if you wish. I won’t be long.” He got to his hooves, put on his hat and went inside. Applejack watched him leave, then went back to looking thoughtfully up at Old Mother and Old Star. Peacemaker weaved his way through the exuberant partygoers, bobbing and ducking around their game, until he reached the stairs to Twilight’s bedroom. He knocked and found it unlocked as it swung open. Twilight was on her bed, holding a pillow over her head. “Twilight?” he asked. “Close the door behind you,” she replied in a muffled voice. He did so. “What do you want, Peacemaker?” Her tongue was lemon-sharp. “I just came in to see if you were feeling all right,” he said. “Oh! Now he takes an interest in doing his job!” Twilight snapped. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m fine! No desperadoes or corrupt sheriffs for you to fight in here, so you can just go back to whatever it was you were doing outside with Applejack!” Peacemaker blinked. He had observed the unicorn being unfriendly before, but this sudden anger was new. “I cry your pardon if I’ve offended you,” he said. She threw her pillow at him, and he leaned to one side to avoid it. It smacked harmlessly against the door behind him and flopped down onto the floor. “Do you!?” Twilight demanded. “Do you actually care if I’m offended or not? Princess Celestia made you my bodyguard, and ever since we met your mind has always been somewhere else! You’re always getting yourself into trouble! The fire, then prison, then that stupid showdown with Ramrod! I mean that really says it all, doesn’t it!? All this madness happens, and you all act like it’s nothing! Nopony cares!” Peacemaker said nothing. “Why won’t you say anything!?” Twilight ranted on. “Don’t just stand there staring at me, get angry! Tell me off! Insult me, you dense mule! That constant calm of yours is getting me down!” There were hot tears welling in the corners of her eyes. When she realised this, she wiped them away and stormed over to her desk, where she crossed her forelegs and buried her face between them. Peacemaker put a gentle forehoof on her shoulder. “I say nothing, sai,” he told her kindly, “because I am listening.” Twilight heaved a morose sigh, and turned towards him, but she could not meet his gaze. “That was out of character, wasn’t it?” she asked. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just so frustrated, and I’m acting stupidly because of it.” She hugged him, a gesture that surprised Peacemaker greatly, but he kept it from showing on his face. “I’m sorry for calling you a dense mule,” she murmured. “I have been called worse,” he told her, “and you are right. I have not taken my duties seriously. I have forgotten the face of my father.” “That phrase means you’ve acted dishonourably, doesn’t it?” she asked. She felt him nod. “You haven’t. Really you haven’t. You can go back to what you were doing if you want, just…just please give me a minute of your time first? All I need is for somepony to listen to me.” “I will stay,” he replied. Twilight realised she was still hugging him and broke away, blushing brightly. Whether he was doing the same, she could not tell. She turned towards the window so her back faced him, and she told him then of her fears. She skipped over the greater majority of the signs and omens she had noted, knowing it would just go over his head, and went straight to the point. She had watched the stars and foreseen the return of Nightmare Moon, and the terrible vengeance she would no doubt wreak upon all of Equestria for her long imprisonment. He sat there the entire time, never interrupting, letting her rant on about how she felt the entire world was either unable to unwilling to take caution. It was only when she finally seemed to run out of puff than the gun-pony responded. “The battle between Nightmare Moon and Celestia was so long ago that nopony alive can remember it,” he told her. “They know of it only as a story. It is distant and unknowable, the way all magick is distant and unknowable where I come from. It’s not their fault that they were all born so long after the fact.” “No, but then why bother celebrating Celestia’s victory at all?” Twilight asked heatedly. “They don’t,” said Peacemaker. “They celebrate the fact they have been honoured by the most beloved figure in Equestria. They celebrate it will be the longest day of the year. They celebrate the unity and happiness it will bring to them and to everypony who visits them. They celebrate that their tiny little town, deep in the wilderness, that nopony ever talks about, will finally be counted. Is that so wrong of them?” Twilight heaved another sigh. “No, it’s not, but they’re all in danger. We’re all in danger, and I…I don’t know what to do!” “I see it’s not for lack of trying,” said Peacemaker, and pointed with his head at the explosion of books and scrolls that littered the walls and floor of the room. He moved over towards one in particular, which bore a large, lovingly detailed illustration of an eight-pointed star and six shimmering stones. He tapped a hoof-tip thoughtfully against the paper. “I’m sure it’s important for stopping Nightmare Moon,” said Twilight, “but I’m having no luck deciphering the whole thing. There are phrases I can’t find reference for in any of my materials. I mean I’m fluent in three ancient languages, but this one is totally alien to me.” “I know this word,” said the gun-pony. “Ka-tet. It’s the High Speech. I don’t know this other language but I can read parts of—” Peacemaker never finished his sentence, because he was suddenly tackle-hugged by Twilight. Down below, Jack-a-Nape heard the thump of the impact and made a lewd joke to somepony. Spike, meanwhile, looked concerned. Upstairs, the two entangled ponies stood, exchanged mumbled apologies, blamed the non-specific stress, and focussed their attention squarely on the scroll. “Can you translate for me?” she asked. “Maybe if I knew what ‘ka’ and ‘tet’ meant, I could start putting the pieces together better.” “Ka is the wheel upon which all things revolve,” Peacemaker explained. His face indicated deep thought for a moment, then continued, “In Gallowad, ka is just ka, but if I had to give you something close to another meaning, it is the force of life. It is our duty to ourselves and each other. It is the places we are going to. You might call it destiny.” “And tet?” asked Twilight. “Tet is a group,” said Peacemaker, “and ka-tet is a group brought together by ka. The most literal meaning is one from many.” “One from many,” Twilight mused, running her hoof-tip from one gemstone to the next. “Loyalty, honesty, generosity, laughter, kindness…” She trailed off as she remembered the three different words the final character could represent. Soul, heaven, sorcery. “Six brought together by destiny. I wonder what it means.” “What else does it say?” asked Peacemaker. The door opened, letting in the clamour of the party and causing Twilight and Peacemaker both to jump. The gun-pony was already drawing his weapons when he realised the intruder was Spike, his large eyes peeking out from beneath the edge of a frilly lampshade. “Come on, you guys!” the baby dragon chirped. “The sun’s about to come up!” XXX The party migrated from the library to the town hall, which seemed to be packed out with every pony for miles around. Everywhere Twilight looked, she saw happily, nervously chattering citizens. Pegasi were forced to remain hovering in mid-air due to the lack of floor space. The past few days had been exciting, sure, but all that had been building up to this. Here, now, finally was the moment of truth. They would see the power and the glory that was Princess Celestia for the first time in their lives. It would be something they would be proud to tell their children and grandchildren about in years to come, a glowing memory they would treasure for the rest of their lives. There were remarks that Rarity and Bow Sansy had done a marvellous job beautifying the place, and Twilight had to agree. She had gotten the idea it might be tasteless or excessive, but she could not deny the quality of the work. It reminded her a bit of the more sophisticated affairs she had felt obligated to attend back in Canterlot, albeit with a smaller venue. Banners suspended from the walls displayed the apple tree barony emblem and the coat of arms of the royal family, a sun shining over a pristine white tower against a field of indigo and amethyst chequers. Pastel-coloured flowers were being worn in manes or otherwise overflowed from hanging baskets that dangled from the upper level balconies, which were standing room only. The centrepiece was a long table with an ice sculpture of the princess in the middle. Twilight assumed it had to be magick that was keeping it from melting in the heat. A stage had been set up, and the two decorators stood to either side of it, ready and waiting for their cue to pull the ropes that would draw the curtains and begin the grand performance. “I don’t like this,” Twilight murmured. “Keep an eye out for trouble,” Peacemaker replied. “If this Nightmare Moon does appear, we’ll handle it.” “And just what are you planning to do?” Twilight asked incredulously. “We’re not talking about some two-bit spell-slinger. We’re talking about one of the most dangerous magicians who ever lived.” “I told you, magick doesn’t mean much where I’m from,” said Peacemaker. “I’ll handle it the way I handle everything. With a quick eye and a quicker draw.” “Hey, what’re youse guys talkin’ about?” asked Jack-a-Nape. “Look,” said Spike, who was perched on Twilight’s back, “it’s about to start!” All eyes were on the stage. The mayor emerged from behind the curtains and a spotlight fell on her from somewhere above. She cleared her throat and spoke loudly and clearly to the audience, who listened with rapt attention. “Fillies and gentlecolts,” she began, “as mayor of Ponyville, it gives me great pleasure to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun Celebration!” A rousing cheer went up from the crowd. “In just a few moments, our town will witness the magick of the sunrise and celebrate this, the longest day of the year!” Peacemaker and Spike both felt Twilight grow tense like a bundle of wires. Neither of them had noticed it, but she had, through one of the high windows. A vision of the moon, and the way its countenance suddenly began to shift, as if layers of silver dust were suddenly blown away to reveal something else buried beneath it. The mayor’s speech droned on. “And now without further ado, it is my honour to introduce to you the ruler of our land. The very pony who gives us the sun and the moon each and every day. The good, the wise, the bringer of harmony through all of Equestria, Princess Celestia!” Sister Fluttershy began to conduct her choir, and a warble of pleasant birdsong filled the air. Rarity and Bow Sansy each took hold of their ropes and pulled. You and I have been privy to events taking place elsewhere and thus know what they would find, but be wary that the little ponies who lived in Ponyville were not so wise, and so when they looked upon the empty space beyond the curtains there was a new rush of activity amongst them. It was not happy talk this time. It was confused, scared even. “Remain calm, everypony,” said the mayor, looking as unnerved as the rest of them. “There must be a reasonable explanation.” There was none. True evil is not known to be reasonable. It is meaningless but malignant, swirling senselessly like haphazard dust devils, seeking only to consume and destroy as if such consumption and destruction would somehow serve to fill the void at its heart. It worms its way in from the dark places outside and it goes unnoticed until it has already successfully hooked its vile barbs into the skin of the universe, just as an awful, resounding laughter hooked itself into the ears of the gathered ponies and would be heard in their worst dreams forever. The sound came from everywhere, but those closest to the stage heard it the loudest. The town hall shook, and ponies tried to flee in all directions, but it did them no good. With a deafening roar, the entire top half of the building was wrenched away and scattered all over the town in a rain of timbre and tiles. A burst of light exploded from the middle of the stage, throwing the mayor, Bow Sansy, Rarity and anypony else standing too close, followed by a crackle of energy that was not so much heard as felt, and a heady aroma of incense. A round hole opened in the floor, bubbling like a cauldron, and blue, glittering smoke poured out over its lips and drifted around the hooves of the terrified audience. They watched, not a single one breathing, as a shape began to grow out of the hole. A tall, lithe frame as black as tar, black as pitch, clad in armour forged from fear and misery. A long, spiralling horn coiled out of its forehead. Wide wings hung about it like a cape, then flapped open with a cry like a thousand glass windows shattering. Cold eyes flashed, and a mane and tail of starlight blazed like freshly lit pyres. Oh, no! Twilight wanted to say, but even in her mind the words were barely formed. That’s her! Peacemaker’s own eyes were huge. His jaw was open. Twilight could not tell what he was thinking, but it was that he had finally found his quarry. The black alicorn! She’s here! She’s here at last! That was when the monster finally seemed to take notice of the smaller creatures. It smiled, showing what Twilight swore were not two, but four rows of cruel, sharp teeth. The husky, sensual voice that came when it spoke was a stark contrast to its frightening mien. “My beloved subjects,” it said, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen your precious, little, sun-loving faces.” “What’d you do with our princess!?” somepony demanded. Twilight realised it had been Rainbow Dash only because of the multi-coloured streak passing over her head. Nightmare Moon’s eyes seemed to crinkle around the edges, and a bolt of light shot out of its horn, striking the pegasus and ploughing her into the floor. “Am I not royal enough for you, insect?” the monster growled. “Do you have any idea who I am?” Nopony said a word, and that made it mad. “Does my crown no longer count because I’ve been away for a thousand years?” it ranted. “Not by choice, I might add, but enforced exile! Did none of you recall the legend? Did none of you see the signs heralding my return?” “I did,” said Twilight, voice quavering. “I know who you are! Nightmare Moon!” The ponies found their voices again. Confusion and fear gave way to panic and tears. Finally, the bit dropped and the gravity of the situation sunk in. The end of was nigh. “Well, well, well,” said Nightmare Moon with a sneer, its voice carrying effortlessly above the screams of the crowd, “somepony who remembers me. Then you must also know what I intend to do next! Remember this day, my little ponies, for it was your last! The night shall last forever!” “NO!” Peacemaker roared. Two explosions rang out. Nightmare Moon reacted with a sweep of its mane, which caught the bullets and dropped them, crumpled, to the floor. Its left eye began to emit a thin, purplish aura, and Peacemaker was hauled out of the crowd and into the air by its sheer will. It intrigued the beast to see not one, but two ponies try to strike her, and made it wonder how many more were waiting for her. It drew Peacemaker closer. “Very foolish, my little one,” it said softly. “I…I’ve waited for this a long time, sorceress,” said Peacemaker, trying to raise his weapons again. “I…owe you this…for Gallowad!” The creature’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t know that name, my little one, but if you think you can do what Celestia could not, if you think you can destroy me, then come for me in the place where it all began. If you’re worthy of me, then we will do battle there.” Its eyes locked with Peacemaker’s, and it watched as a sense of something like realisation dawned on him. It snorted, and threw him to the rapidly emptying floor. Peacemaker let out a pained cry as part of the floor shattered on impact around him. A few other ponies gathered protectively around his injured form, but they still shrank when its shadow fell over them. It smiled down emptily at Twilight, and then raised its horn to the sky. Arcs of blue and white lightning blasted the hole in the floor from which it had emerged, and the viscous goo inside turned purple. The hole expanded, spider-webbing into cracks that shook what remained of the hall to rubble before spreading out into the town beyond. The goo rose and bubbled and steamed like molten magma. Parts of its surface erupted in pink flame, hardened and melted again in seconds. It swirled unnaturally in all kinds of directions, forming shapes like mouths and clusters of luminous, protoplasmic eyes. It crawled over the landscape as ponies desperately tried to get away from it, either by fleeing to the borders of Ponyville as fast as their hooves could carry them or by scrambling up onto rooftops and spires. “From this moment forth, Equestria as you know it shall cease to exist!” Nightmare Moon bellowed. “WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE!” It howled with laughter, and was gone in a flash. Peacemaker staggered up on his hooves, cried out and fell over again. The monster had thrown him hard, and his right foreleg and side now filled him with white hot torment when he tried to move. He felt two others trying to help him up, definitely two, but he could not tell who. His vision was bleary and his hearing muddied. Voices were drowned beneath the rumble of the hellish flood and the hysterical screams of Ponyville’s citizens. A warm, moist feeling washed over him, gummed his eyes shut and filled his nose and throat, and in the next second he felt it freeze his heart. The last anypony saw of Peacemaker, Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Jack-a-Nape, Applejack, Sister Fluttershy or Bow Sansy that awful night were their dismayed faces before the unspeakable purple menace engulfed them.