Unbeknownst to Dusk, the Crusaders had indeed come to Canterlot with their older siblings. They had stayed in one of the castle’s numerous suites on the day of the first trial, not wanting to come to the trial right away. That, and their siblings (and Rainbow Dash, in Scootaloo’s case) told them they couldn’t actually come to the trial. Something about them not being adults and being too biased. Now it was the second day, one day before Dusk’s end.
Not being able to help Dusk really put Sweetie in a bad mood. She moped on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts airy and dissolute. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were in a similar state, trying to keep themselves occupied by talking about the stallion.
“… Remember when Dusk was ferried in on Steven Magnet’s back?” Scootaloo asked.
“Eeyup,” answered Apple Bloom.
“Remember those times when Dusk went Crusading with us?”
“Eeyup.”
“Those were the days…”
Sweetie glanced over. “Why? Are you saying that those days are over?”
Scootaloo looked at her friend in sadness. “It sure seems so. They’re probably locking Dusk up right now.”
“No! That can’t be true!” Sweetie jumped off of the bed and raced over to Scootaloo, shaking the pegasus fiercely. “They can’t lock him up for something he didn’t do!”
“Sweetie, calm down!” Apple Bloom pried the unicorn off, giving her a stern look. “Ah know yer pretty upset. Why, Ah’m very upset! But the thing is, there’s a lot on Dusk. There’s more evidence against him than for!”
Sweetie tried to slow her breathing. Eventually she recovered, and she looked at Scootaloo sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, Scootaloo. I-I’m just so upset that he’s pretty much guaranteed to be thrown in jail.”
Scootaloo nodded, and gave her friend a hug. “It’s okay, Sweetie Belle. I’m upset too.”
They fell silent, as all their memories with the stallion rose to mind. It isn’t fair! Sweetie thought. I should have done something to help!
But how could I have helped? Even if I told the court what I thought, there’s too much physical evidence that Dusk did those… things. Even now, she couldn’t describe the charges as anything else than “things.” The word seemed to lessen the harshness of the accusations.
“M-Maybe I should have said something,” Sweetie murmured. “Something about the syringes…”
“What about the syringes?”
They looked up, seeing Rarity having entered the room. She looked tired, though she looked at her sister in concern. Sweetie froze, her mouth open, as Rarity walked over.
“Sweetie Belle?” Rarity knelt in front of her. “What about the syringes should you have said?”
“W-well…”
“Did you know about the syringes?”
“W-well of course! I-I mean, you know, when Rainbow discovered them!”
Rarity stared at her, before sighing. “Sweetie, I know you’re upset… but please, you have to tell me the truth.” She held up a hoof before Sweetie could protest. “You aren’t exactly the most subtle of liars.”
Sweetie gulped. She looked at her sister, and Rarity smiled assuringly at her, letting her know that it was alright. She shivered, and looked at the other Crusaders. They, though obviously hesitant, nodded to her. She nodded slowly.
“Well, you see…”
She told her sister about their initial discovery of the syringes. She described in great detail their shock, as well as their confusion when they saw the blood inside. They didn’t know whose blood it was; all they knew was that it appeared that Dusk was storing it. When she had finished, Rarity gave her a hard look.
“You knew about the syringes before Rainbow found them?”
They nodded guiltily.
Rarity shook her head. “You should have told us, girls.”
“And then what would you do?” Sweetie asked. “Would it really matter if we told you? You’d just arrest him sooner!”
The elder unicorn looked at her younger sibling sadly. “Yes,” she whispered. “We would have. Though…” She frowned in thought. “We might not even have found the note…”
Sweetie gulped again. If she had said something sooner, would most of Dusk’s current charges have been dropped?
“So then why didn’t you tell us?”
The young unicorn took a deep breath. “Because… we knew that you’d want to make him leave. All because he had blood in his fridge.”
“We were beginning to like him,” added Apple Bloom, “and it didn’t feel right sending him away only after a few days.”
“Plus, he was teaching us some pretty cool stuff,” added Scootaloo.
“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”
The young pegasus explained exactly what kind of stuff, and Rarity looked on in surprise. She hadn’t expected the stallion to teach the girls about the merits of a Cutie Mark, and of the importance of family and friends. And telling Scootaloo that she would fly someday? That was something she had not expected an earth pony to tell a pegasus. With each new detail, her respect for the stallion was growing… as was her guilt for having to put him on the spot.
When Scootaloo had finished, Rarity looked away in contemplation. “I see… no wonder you girls like him so much.”
“So you see?” Apple Bloom said. “He’s not a bad pony!”
“And I never said he was, nor have I ever admitted thinking he could be.” Rarity sighed again. “But… you have to understand, girls. Whether or not we think Dusk is good, the evidence presented—the note and the syringes—will be what convince the court of his character.”
The fillies knew this, and Sweetie felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. “Is he… you know…” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard.
But, to her surprise, Rarity smiled. “No, he’s not been handed a verdict yet. In fact, Celestia has expanded the trial to two more days. One day for Dusk to gather his thoughts, the next for him to return to court.”
They let out relieved breaths, but they soon frowned. “Why?” Apple Bloom asked.
“It would seem… that Dusk is very skilled in masking the truth behind words. Enough to confuse us all.”
“Where is he now?” Scootaloo asked.
“He’s in Canterlot Jail for today.”
“So tomorrow he’ll be free?” Sweetie asked eagerly.
Rarity shook her head. “I’m afraid that is a low possibility, Sweetie Belle. If Dusk approaches tomorrow in the same way he did to yesterday’s trial, then I doubt he’ll be released. If anything, he might be given extended jail time. Perhaps even life.”
The news dampened their moods, making them fall into a depressing silence. Sweetie looked down at the floor, tears falling from her face. Rarity leaned over and held her head up, wiping away the tears, though she had some of her own in her eyes.
“But there’s still time,” she whispered. “Maybe not a lot, but time nonetheless. Who knows? Dusk may figure out a way to prolong his sentence.”
Sweetie frowned. “He won’t.” Rarity looked at her in surprise. Somehow, in her heart, she knew it was over for Dusk. There was no other niches to be used; no openings to exploit; no holes in the case that could be jumped through. All exits were sealed shut; whether by Dusk’s actions or by some other power, she did not know.
She, however, found herself unable to give up. She wanted to believe in Dusk, despite all the evidence. She wanted to think that Dusk meant no harm. Deep down, she knew that the stallion was a good pony, with good intentions, and an even better heart. Sure, he was strange; but it was a good kind of strange, reminding her of all those times her sister would go on weird adventures with the other bearers. Strange, but not completely alien. Approachable, in most cases.
Dusk didn’t seem to think of himself as “good.” She had to show him; it was his only chance.
She pushed Rarity’s hoof away, gently, but with great resolve. She looked into her sister’s eyes. “The jail. Does it allow visitors.”
Rarity was surprised by her sister’s sudden change in attitude. “Er—yes. I believe so. But children need adult supervision.”
Sweetie nodded. “Take me there.”
“What?”
“Take me to Dusk Prosa.”
Rarity stared, wide-eyed, at her sister. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, at first, reacted much the same, but, after a few glances were exchanged, stood with their friend. Rarity then stood, closing her mouth and looking down on Sweetie Belle.
For a moment, no words were spoken. Then, Rarity gained a soft smile. “You really care for him, don’t you?”
They nodded.
Suddenly she gave them all a hug. “If you say he’s a good pony, then I have no reason to distrust you.” She released them, still smiling. “Let’s go.”
Well… at least it’s a new experience.
Dusk nearly hit himself upside the head for that thought. Was he really trying to be optimistic? He was in jail; this wasn’t a place for optimism. All around him were grim reminders of a dark world, drowning out any good feelings that one might generate.
The walls in his cell were a charcoal grey, as was his floor and ceiling. He supposed that he could thank Celestia for arranging for him to be alone. If he had a cellmate, he wasn’t sure who would die first.
Huh. Humor.
A toilet was in the back corner, and it stank of unspoken substances that made Dusk nauseous. To the best of his ability, he tried not to breathe in through his nose. A small bed to the side could be said to be his only form of comfort. It wasn’t dreadfully uncomfortable, and he could rest on it. However, he had not fallen asleep on his first day in jail. His mind was too occupied with worry and fear. He had only gotten maybe a four hours rest; and it showed, with the bangs under his eyes being rubbed every few minutes. The sheets on the bed had been made (“Thank you, manners.”) and the pillow had been fluffed. It was almost as if he was preparing to remain in prison for a long time.
He sighed. The idea of tomorrow came with a feeling of dread. He had no defense, other than a refusal to answer, which he knew would only land him in more trouble. As much as he wanted to not remain in jail, it seemed like it was the smartest choice. But in doing so, he effectively removed any chance he had of accomplishing his mission and carrying on after Raven Lock. The thought made him cringe; he would be dishonoring his friend’s memory by not doing anything. Yet, he reminded himself that the operation depended on secrecy, and saying something in court could also be dishonorable.
But then he wondered, who depended on secrecy more—Dusk or Raven?
Raven died carrying his secret. Dusk was sure to follow. There was no right answer. He could only choose the nonexistent answer.
In other words, no answer.
The guard outside wore a blue cap and carried a small, black nightstick. A flashlight was on his guard vest, as well as a badge. Dusk had been quick to learn that his name was Smiley—he probably could have guessed just by the smile itself—and he didn’t seem all that hostile to his prisoners. He would often talk to the others in the jail as if they were close (they probably were, given how old they all looked).
His mind returned to the present as Smiley began whistling. Dusk turned, walking over to his bed and sitting down on it. Truth be told, other than the horrible conditions of the cell—it was to be expected, he supposed—he couldn’t complain. It almost felt… deserving, like this was his rightful punishment. Punishment for what, he could easily guess. Perhaps it was for Raven’s death, or Opacare’s disappearance. Or maybe it was for his failure to stop Boss. Or his failure to prevent his parents’ deaths. Or perhaps—
Each passing second came with a new, terrible thought. His guilt grew and grew, until it threatened to suffocate him. He leaned back, letting out a groan, and lightly punched the mattress, all the while cursing in Latineigh.
That got Smiley’s attention. “You speak Latineigh?”
Dusk looked at him tiredly. “Obviously.”
Smiley whistled. “Wow, we haven’t had a smart stallion in here in years! You impressed, boys?”
A few cries rang out, all loud, rambled, and annoying. Dusk hated it, but he didn’t say that, choosing instead to lean back onto his bed, closing his eyes.
He cursed a little less loudly.
Hours passed, with Smiley still whistling and walking around, talking to the others. Dusk grew more secluded, practically hiding away in the shadow of the cell, away from the light coming from the hall. He doubted he was going insane; it wasn’t as if there was any silence. The prisoners were rambunctious and rowdy, annoying him. He nearly considered the Family to be the lesser of two evils; but, of course, he hit himself upside the head for thinking that.
He briefly considered trying to escape, but he shot down that idea soon after. Escaping jail would be stupid and foolish. What did he expect to do if he did escape? Canterlot would be searching for him, and who knew when all of Equestria would get involved?
It frustrated him that he had to wait, then. He wasn’t by any means impatient, but he constantly felt a desire to do something. He didn’t want to sit inside a cell all day and all night. He didn’t consider getting up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner as breaks in the monotony. He needed to do something to keep himself occupied.
In theory, he could ask Smiley for something to write on. And, given the guard’s attitude, he might have gotten numerous pens and paper. But motivation was lost on him, and he couldn’t find it in himself to make the request.
Maybe he has cards…
It was a stupid idea, but Dusk didn’t want to remain sitting on his bed. So he got up, and trotted up the gates of his cell.
He was about to ask Smiley, when something caught the guard’s attention. The guard suddenly turned and walked away, exiting the hall. Dusk watched him go, surprised and frustrated. Sulking, he turned away, heading back over to his bed.
He heard a door down the hall open, and he looked up as he heard the sound of hooves approaching. Smiley had returned, and with him was the warden, wearing a clay-brown suit. Dusk glanced at the two, seeing Smiley’s signature smile and the warden’s contrasting frown. It reminded him of a comedy, almost.
“What.” It wasn’t much of a question as much as it was a statement. Dusk’s voice came out monotone, bored. He half-expected the warden to say that Dusk was heading to the gallows, based on the stoic frown alone.
In answer, the warden walked over and placed a key in the lock. Twisting it, he unlocked the cell door, and pulled it open, eliciting whistles from the other prisoners. Dusk raised an eyebrow.
“You have visitors,” the warden said.
That was a surprise. He wondered who it could be. Getting up, he briefly dusted himself off. He then walked over to the ponies, hooves outstretched. Smiley placed a pair of hoofcuffs around him, still smiling. The warden then led Dusk forward, and they headed for the visitor area.
The prison’s walls and floors blurred before him, and he suddenly found himself in front of a lone door. Above was a sign that signaled this was where he needed to be. He glanced at the warden and Smiley, frowning. They nodded for him to enter.
He sighed. He supposed it couldn’t be anything bad.
“You have thirty minutes,” the warden reminded him.
Entering, he placed himself in one of the stalls, and grabbed one of the prison phones. He waited. Glancing around, he noticed that he was the only one in the area.
On the other side of the glass barrier was where the visitors would enter. A few guards were in front of the exit door, shades on, looks stern. For a few moments, no one entered.
Then, Dusk heard it. Excited, lively cries. Female, definitely, based on the pitch. There were multiple voices; he counted four. Strangely enough, they sounded familiar, and they were fast approaching.
The guards seemed equally surprised to hear that many voices, and they quickly opened the doors, allowing the ponies to enter. Dusk’s eyes widened at what he saw.
Something akin to a purple, cotton-candy head, with a white body and a small horn, entered first, followed next by an orange chicken and a pink, bow-tied apple. Behind them was a walking marshmallow of a mare with a lovely shade of purple mane.
Of course, he already knew who they were, but his bored mind thirsted for some sort of creative description—one he had just supplied.
The three fillies looked a bit confused, until Rarity directed them over to the booth. They saw him, and their lips stretched into wide, happy smiles. They practically launched themselves into the booth, their mouths moving rapidly.
The glass and booth, however, were soundproof. Dusk indicated this with an amused frown, and pointed to the phone to tell them how to communicate. They blushed but, after a moment, Sweetie levitated the phone over. Rarity watched them curiously.
“Hiya, Dusk!” she greeted warmly.
“As squeaky as ever, Miss Sweetie Belle,” he answered.
“I told you, you don’t have to address us by Misses!”
He actually chuckled. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed their usual liveliness. He then, however, returned to being serious, telling them about their time limit.
“Thirty minutes?” Scootaloo wined. “Aw, that’s barely enough to discuss what we’ll try for our marks next time!”
He raised an eyebrow. “‘Next time?’”
“Of course!” Sweetie exclaimed. “Once you’re out of prison, you’ll go back to helping us find our marks!”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at them. Then, his voice as soft as a gentle sea, yet carrying the same intensity of a ferocious ocean, he said, “What makes you think I’m leaving?”
Apple Bloom took the phone. “Well, of course you’re leaving! Nopony stays in jail for something they didn’t do!”
“That is correct.”
They waited for something else to be said. Their smiles began to falter as they realized what Dusk was implying. Scootaloo grabbed the phone. “Uh, heh heh, good one Dusk. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here—”
“It isn’t a joke, girls,” he said softly. His voice carried regret and shame, and it took all his strength not to look away from their shocked faces.
“Y-yes it is!” Sweetie exclaimed. “I-we-we know you wouldn’t do those things!” She frowned. “Well, besides the syringes. And we know you didn’t have anything to do with Raven Lock!”
“I’ve been cleared of that charge already. But the other allegations… regarding Opacare Prose’s disappearance… they have yet to be resolved.”
Their eyes brimmed with tears, though they were quickly wiped. “D-darn it!” Scootaloo said. “If Rainbow hadn’t been so insistent on trying to pin you for being a user; if I hadn’t listened to her—”
“Don’t blame Miss Dash for this,” he replied, genuinely surprised that the pegasus was mad at her idol. “She was just trying to protect you from a very real danger. Me.”
Scootaloo looked shocked at that, and Sweetie used that moment to take the phone. “Come on, Dusk. You aren’t a danger.”
“Aren’t I?” He raised an eyebrow. “Did I not buck a business stallion and give him a black eye? Did I not yell at two foals? Did I not kill—”
“Stop!” Sweetie yelled, making him pause. “You didn’t kill anypony, Dusk,” she asserted.
He didn’t respond to that, looking away slightly. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“To talk,” Apple Bloom answered.
“About?”
“You.”
He frowned. “What is there to talk about? I’m in jail. There isn’t anything I can do—”
“Why were you hiding?” Sweetie asked, interrupting him.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Back in the trial in Canterlot. Rarity said you were masking something with your words. Like you were hiding.”
He glanced at Rarity, surprised. She didn’t seem to respond, still staring at them intently.
“Hiding?” he repeated, doing his best not to swallow.
“Yeah. You know? Like you were afraid of saying something.”
When he didn’t initially answer, that prompted Sweetie to continue. “Does it have something to do with Opacare’s disappearance?”
“At this point, nearly everything does.” He sighed. “My… involvement… in his disappearance keeps getting questioned.”
“So you were involved?”
He didn’t answer again, turning away. Sweetie could tell he was secluding himself off. “Dusk? Dusk!” she cried, making him sharply turn back to her. “Look, I know what the charges are, but you can’t let yourself believe them!”
“‘Let myself?’”
She ignored the question. “Dusk, tomorrow is your last chance to sort things out. If you don’t…” She gulped. “T-there’s a chance this is the last time we see you.”
That struck a chord in his heart. He had grown quite fond of the fillies, and only now did he realize what could happen if things went sour the next day. Still, though, he did his best to appear neutral-looking.
“Dusk, none of us think you did those things,” Sweetie continued. “Sure, you are strange, but you wouldn’t hurt anypony!”
“Filthy Rich?” he suggested.
“He had it coming. So did Diamond and Silver Spoon,” said Apple Bloom.
“So I did hurt them?”
They ignored his question. “Raven Lock was your friend,” said Sweetie, “and I don’t think he’d be friends with a murderer!”
“Why is that?”
“He’s a detective. He would have caught on if you really were a killer! You would have already been arrested!”
Admittedly, he couldn’t argue with that. Raven had been one of his smartest friends, having been the one to teach him how to be a great observer. Not to mention, Raven was the one who had acted as Dusk’s greatest correspondence, having been smart enough to keep himself secret. At least, for a little while…
He clenched his hoof angrily as the thought was forced away. The fillies noticed the action, and hushed up on Raven’s death.
“A-anyway, with that in mind, you wouldn’t have been involved with Opacare Prose’s disappearance,” argued Sweetie. “What possible reason could you have for getting rid of him?”
He didn’t answer, but he saw Sweetie’s mind race.
“Is it… no… it can’t just be because of the blood!” She huffed. “No, that can’t be it?”
“And why not, Miss Sweetie Belle—”
“Don’t call me that!” There were tears in her eyes as she cut him off. “Why would it be just for the blood? That’s so stupid! That’s so unlike you!” Her friends were trying to calm her down as the guards began giving them concerned looks. Rarity tried to distract them, but she couldn’t for long. Sweetie managed to calm herself, but she still glared at Dusk. “You aren’t dumb, Dusk. We both know that. Nopony dumb would go so far as to deliberately hide syringes filled with blood just because they were blood!”
Once again, Dusk found himself impressed by what Sweetie was saying. If the filly hadn’t impressed him with her remarkable insight before, now she had. What she said, while harsh, made sense; the presented “reason” definitely had its share of flaws.
“So, then what is the reason?” he challenged, cocking his head. “Pray tell, Sweetie Belle, what reason would I have for disappearing Prose?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Only you know, Dusk Prosa.” She looked at him, frustrated and sadly. “That’s why you have to tell the truth tomorrow. Otherwise, those ponies are gonna think the worse of you!”
“Why should I care?”
“Because what they say isn’t true!” Her voice reclaimed its intensity, squeaky as it was. “They’ll say that you’re a bad pony; a killer! But I know and we know that that’s not true!” The other girls nodded their agreement just as fiercely.
“Dusk.” The warden poked his head in. “Ten minutes.”
He nodded, turning back to the fillies. “So what’s true, then, about me? What is the truth that you know, that I hide, that the ponies out there don’t get to see?”
Flowery language, meant to distract the girls. But Sweetie held strong, refusing to be confused by words. “That you are a good pony, Dusk.”
“Criminationibus irritatus submisit sine testimoniis expositum, potest dimitti sine evidentia,” he repeated, thinking that Sweetie wouldn’t understand.
Once again, though, the young unicorn surprised him. “You want evidence? Fine! Here’s some evidence!”
She pointed to Scootaloo. “You cheered Scootaloo up, not making fun of her for not being able to fly yet!” She pointed to Apple Bloom. “You didn’t consider Apple Bloom as some dumb farmer pony like so many other ponies have!” She pointed to outside. “You fought off the nastiest bullies I have ever met, comforted Dinky, walked her home, and assured Ditzy that everything would be alright!” She pointed to herself. “And, after you scared me the first time we met, you came back and apologized!”
She stuck her hoof out, pressing it against the glass. “And throughout the time you spent in Ponyville, you did not try to really hurt anypony. You never followed through on any threats, you did not try to take over the town in some way, you did not bother trying to appear like this mean, power-hungry stallion. You came across as cold, but not evil—not bad!”
She fell back, the phone line stretched, as she wiped her eyes. “Don’t you see, Dusk? After all you’ve done, you still aren’t a bad pony. Diamond Tiara is a bad pony; Filthy Rich is a bad pony; heck, Discord wasn’t even a pony and he was a huge threat! The town thought you were a user; and you proved us wrong. Now they think you’re a murderer. Are you gonna prove us right?”
Her words cut through and deep, and he stared at her, completely blown back by what she had said. The other Crusaders, though they had said less, were just as fierce in their stances, staring back, undeterred by his silence. For tense seconds, nothing was said; only gazes were exchanged.
Finally, Scootaloo grabbed the phone. “We can’t convince you what to do tomorrow.”
She passed it to Apple Bloom, who said, “But we can tell you that you should do the right thing.”
Sweetie took the phone. “And the right thing… is to tell the truth.”
She couldn’t have timed it better. Rarity walked over, signaling that visiting time was over. They were hesitant to leave but, having said what they needed to say, nodded, and placed the phone back in its compartment. Dusk watched them go in silence, and Sweetie gave him one last look as they made their way out the exit. Their presence soon vanished behind sealed, metal doors.
Dusk was ushered out, and he returned to his cell, deep in thought.
He stared at the ceiling. Then at the floor. Then at the wall. And then he closed his eyes. He saw Sweetie’s face, frowning, but not mad at him—at least, not as much as he expected. Rather, the face was filled with worry, genuine worry for him. And, hidden behind the purple bangs, the adorable face of a filly still innocent—was a face of hope.
Hope.
He remembered what Raven had said—that those fillies were Dusk’s hope. He, at first, thought Raven was just trying to be optimistic. But, now that he thought about it, perhaps there was a sliver of truth in his words.
Raven was the smartest pony Dusk had ever known. It would be unlike him, he supposed, to be mistaken. To assume that Raven was wrong—was that dishonorable of Dusk? Would he be only further damaging Raven’s reputation?
Would I be digging his grave even deeper than it already is, burying him another ten feet?
He had no answer at the moment.
His mind reflected on what the fillies had said. He forced himself not to deny them. As their words swirled around his head, they continued to cut deep, exposing old wounds and long buried thoughts. There had been a time, when he had thought himself as good; but that time was as old as the roots of his problems, so far into the past it was. Nevertheless, he realized that despite all that had passed, there still remained that little sliver of good. His actions, whether he recognized them, still reflected that small bit of personality.
In burying his past, he had also buried the parts of him that many old associates would have considered his best traits. He used to be honorable; steadfast loyal to his few friends; used to be a stallion who wanted only what was best for his fellow pony. But then things changed. Something came up, ponies had to be quieted, and he had to run and hide. Only now did he realize this; and he realized, that he had become the object that he had for so long fought against.
Ignorant.
No…
He clenched his eyes even tighter, suddenly afraid. Afraid of what he had become. A hypocrite to his cause, a betrayer of all he had stood for.
Dusk had dug his grave. The final comments and eulogies were made, and he would be buried next to his friend, Raven Lock.
But… those fillies and their words… they were like escape ropes; they could pull him out, if he only reached out and grabbed them. And it should have been easy! And yet… and yet…
Why was he still afraid?
No… what was he still afraid of?
The truth? No. He had long confronted the truth. He knew the truth. He understood it.
No. He was afraid of the ramifications of the truth. He was afraid of what would happen, if ponies knew. It wasn’t that his life would be on the line; but it was other ponies’ lives would be in danger. He couldn’t speak up, he couldn’t…
You have to.
He gasped, eyes snapping open.
You have to, the voice repeated.
It was his… and yet not. It was… younger. Braver. Wiser. And it spoke strongly, stronger than how he had spoken in these past weeks. He realized, it was his old self—not the one he feared, but the one he had been, before life had gotten worse.
This was him.
This was the good pony that the fillies had seen and still believed in.
All that arrogance, that coldness, that cynicism, and that violent, outward attitude—they all simply covered his true self.
They’re right, he realized. I can’t keep hiding this. It would be a betrayal to myself. It would be a betrayal to what made Raven consider me a friend. It would be a betrayal of what I wanted to do in this world.
His eyes flashed brilliantly, returning to their former glory. Yes, he now knew what he needed to do. The only way he could hope to honor Raven, to reveal the truth, and to continue his operation. He had to do it.
For the fillies, who believed in him.
For Raven, who continued to help him, despite the risk.
And for that author stallion, “dead,” who refused to stay dead, even after all this time.
Dusk smiled, and it was genuine and true, if but tired. Tomorrow was still scary; but he could do it. He had a plan. He was ready.
Dusk slept that night. And this time, he saw only smiling faces and felt warm feelings.
