Many emotions were running through her now, and by all accounts, they should have overtaken her. Anger, confusion, suspicion, and sadness were among the most easily spotted; yet, another could be felt creeping coldly from her hooves to her heart. And perhaps this was for the better.
Twilight was beginning to feel overwhelmingly numb. She hadn’t experienced death beforehand, and so much of it at once should’ve shattered her immediately. But it didn’t.
Mother of the Sun, how can this be happening… it was a question punctuated by many different phrases which reappeared in her mind, but nonetheless, it was all cut down to one simple bunch of words: why, how, and who.
Her hooves had begun to dig an upturned rutt of thin carpet in a trail, one she was treading steadily and robotically. The sound of the wind and creaky, simmering wood being shifted from the charred pit of the library disinterred her from this small track, however.
Her ears pricked, and she leaned toward the source of the sound. Hoofsteps, quiet and sneaky, echoed away in sharp little waves of sound. Curiosity fizzled within her mind, mixed equally with suspicion. Time Turner was the one walking about… what in the name of Celestia was he doing?
Twilight, her coat prickling with distrust, began a stern trek through the hallways to look for the earth pony. Darkness enveloped her, and through the black sheet, she could make out the faint outlines on a rather large painting. One she was unsure had been there before; she supposed it had, though. Getting caught up in an ordeal like this was quite the excuse for not being quite as observant… or was it?
Her horn lit in a faint magenta glow, the very center a pale white, and she again took down the empty chamber; as it turns out, the painting was of an animal, one she didn’t know of. One with a mournful expression, its eyes wispy and white, thin black fur spiking in patches across its dissipated body as its fangs shone in a deep howl. Unsettled, she ruffled her wings. Maybe I should have asked somepony to stay with me… but then again, who could I trust?
She shook her head, the trim bangs of indigo and raspberry pink layering in front of her eyes before settling back. Ignoring her nagging inner voice, Twilight reached a turn. She attempted to remember where she was, and oriented herself toward the library.
Urges to call out battled with urges to remain as quiet as possible. The scent of acrid, withering smoke brushed into her nose, and she extended a wing to cover it. Her primaries lessened the strong smell, but didn’t do away with it completely.
Jagged edges littered the floor and ceiling, and the alicorn peered inside. She ceased her internal fighting and whispered out, “Time? Time, where are you?”
Only the occasional creak and the smell of charred wood dignified her with a response. Scanning the remains of the room briefly, the alicorn observed only expected things to be found inside: burnt books, burnt flooring, burnt ceiling, burnt everything. A chill ran up her spine, perhaps the feeling of just being alone at the time, and she withdrew quickly from the library.
“What now…” she murmured, returning to the hallway. Her violet eyes dissected the area around her, and Twilight moved along the long, thin chamber.
Her hooves gave way to rhythmic tapping, something she could almost consider relaxing. But it also dredged up the awful screaming and the clatter of Filthy Rich’s own hooves against the floor as the shadows engulfed him like a python.
Twilight’s memory failed to pinpoint a shape, a sound, or even a smell that could possibly give her a clue. Just deep black, swift and efficient at its one purpose in life.
A loud clatter echoed in a cacophony of vicious knocking and startled her, and the light spell vanished as her wings forced her body into the air. A chandelier chinked indignantly as it was forced aside by one of her flanks, only adding to the noise. The alicorn hovered, eyes darting back and forth as she turned and attempted to find the source of the original clatter.
“Time? Cheerilee?”
No answer, and she cautiously lowered herself to the floor. Nervously, her light spell reiterated and her head down, Twilight tread further past windows, rooms, and the occasional table. Rounding another corner, she couldn’t help but yell in surprise as one of her front hooves was struck across by a hard bump. Tumbling forward, her teeth knocked painfully together as her chin was forced closed by a wooden platform. Her body sprawled awkwardly, and her strained joints yelped in pain.
Quickly, the alicorn shot back up, scrambling against the thin carpet and onto wood. Her spell relit, and she discovered that a fold-down staircase had sinisterly tripped her up. It led to a dark mouth in the roof of the house, smelling of dust and sounding empty.
What in the name of- Twilight restrained herself to internal yelping. She loomed at the base, wondering whether or not to follow it up. Eventually, she did.
Not using the stairs themselves, Twilight clumsily hovered upward, sneaking weary glances about the attic she was entering. Nothing was to the immediate right or left of her as she entered, but she could see faint outlines of the floorboards, and perhaps some insulation.
Landing as softly as equine-ly possible, the princess swept her head around, listening for anypony other than hear. A slight click, almost like a very young foal stepping across cobblestones could be heard, but she wrote that hurriedly off as the gigantic house settling.
Stay calm… be ready to fight… you’re an idiot for even considering coming up those stairs.
Passing by unpopulated feet of flooring, she soon came upon boxes labeled with the standard ‘this end up’ or ‘antique’. What appeared to be a large mirror was covered by a dusty, moth-hole riddled sheet.
Her hoof struck a slab of thick metal, and she jumped back. Her heart raced, and Twilight shone her spell to find that it was a hatch. She cautiously lifted it, and found herself to be looking down at a large crate. Red liquid still seeped from underneath, and small pink curls obstructed them.
Almost letting out a cry, she let it clap closed. All was silent, but now tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Please… please, Celestia, not now.
Steadying her nerves, which were again beginning to scream at all of the emotions swirling in the back of her mind. Twilight forced herself to keep moving, her wings tucked tightly at her side.
They didn’t remain there; a brash thud could be heard, similar to the noise that her own closing hatch had just made. Confusion washed over her again, then it was frozen by a scream of horror and pain. Another thud, more meaty this time.
Her brain seemed to work faster than she thought it did, because Twilight found herself charging haphazardly down the dark, dusty tunnel of the attic. It was choking her, and she had to help whoever just screamed. Perhaps she’d be able to catch the killer.
Twilight’s hoof clanged against another hatch, and she skidded to a halt. She listened; from beneath it she heard wet, sticky choking sounds, and the weakening flailing of somepony. Her magic clutched at the door, much heavier this time. Was it locked?
Once lifted a small increment, the alicorn found that it was long locked, it was attached to a brass ceiling lamp. Her muscles, though seemingly not doing any work of their own, began to ache. “I’m coming!” She managed to choke out. Just a little father and the hatch would be lifted, and perhaps the killer would still be there.
With a loud moan, the hinges stretched backwards, and the ceiling hatch was open. Beneath her, a hoof pressed to a grisly wound and choking in her own blood, laid Cheerilee. Raw panic struck her heart and the alicorn dove down.
Cheerilee’s eyes widened in surprise, and glanced between Twilight and the far wall. Her fur was sticky with her own fresh blood, still warm and gushing from her wound. It was ragged and sloppy looking, as if the one who inflicted it had heard Twilight coming and had missed and jerked away. Her purple hoof was trying to press down on the wound for her.
“H-hold on, Miss Cheerilee, I can fix you just relax.”
Tears burned her eyelids and she forced them back, still trying to remember a healing spell. Even then, most healing spells require ingredients and not just the magic to bibbidi-bobbidi-boo up the cure, and for a gash, no less.
Cheerilee, looking paler by the second, managed to choke out a sloppy, half-hearted scream. “B-b-b…”
“Cheerilee, please!” Twilight screamed, her mind going blank as she resorted to applying as much pressure as she could.
“B-behind you-ouh.” the school teacher spat, her breathing slowing and her eyes wet with agony.
Soft hoofsteps crept along, and Twilight, blood drying on her hooves, felt a cold snort of judgement on her wings.