//------------------------------//
// Act II: Chapter One 
// Story: Sparkyll and Hyde 
// by Dragon Spire 
//------------------------------//


Act II: Chapter One:
Determining Termination


The room was sterile and white. Smelled like bleach was heavily applied to clean the walls on a daily basis. Smelled like the aftermath of death.

A one-way window in the far wall, a tissue box half full, and the table it rested on, its color her namesake and one leg shorter than the other three. These were the things that Silver Mist found solace in amongst the sameness of the bulky squares tiles that made the walls and floor. The veins running between them threatened to suck in her sanity and crush whatever sense of peace she had left. 

Her eyes shifted to the window. She wondered, was it meant to separate the interrogator from the interrogated? And for whose safety? Her reflection, a wingless pegasus with an stringy mane and ice-blue eyes blank with numbness, and a scar on the left side of her face, stared back at her like a stranger compared to the one who was smiling two weeks ago; her spirit felt as though it'd been pulled away from her mortal coil.

Drawing a slow breath, she eyed the clock. Having been put in here nearly an hour ago, she waited for Princess Celestia to begin her interrogation, to discern fact from her stories and unveil the identity of the Canterlot Murderer.

That was the name they chose for the unicorn without a cutie mark, a young mare with some vendetta against the upper class of Canterlot.

Not a very clever name, if she had any say of it. Anyone could've trotted in to slit the throats of those they despised and forthwith be called a Canterlot Murderer.

The Bridle Collector was a clever name. The Grave Keeper was a clever name. Really, anything with a bit more effort would be far more clever than the 'Canterlot Murderer'. How about, 'The Markless One'? Beside fillies and colts, no pony had a lack of a cutie mark, and this killer always slipped away from the authorities unharmed. Unmarked by cutie mark and wound. Or, what about 'Vendetta' - no, that was taken already. Or maybe--

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. She twisted herself in her seat, cringing when cold metal met her backside. Before her shuffled in Princess Luna, Captain Phalanx, and a young Lunar guard whose coat shifted in various shades of brown along his neck and barrel.

"Greetings, Silver Mist," Luna said first. "You do understand why you are here?" She kept a close eye on Phalanx, who stumbled right into the table, its bad leg making it wobble against his weight.

"I'm . . ." Silver pried her eyes off the captain, "I am to give my assessment of the recent killings of the Canterlot Murderer, as I was a prime witness to each of them. But, I was aware of your sister overseeing the interrogation."

The Lunar Guard went to help Phalanx, who nearly fell into the floor. "Well . . . 'interrogation' is a strong word," he said, once recovered. His large eyes, a deep yellow, shifted between his princess, captain, and Silver. "We'd more like to say . . . 'questioning'. Can't go scaring the citizens more than they have been, right?"

Suddenly curious, she asked, "What's your name?"

Looking genuinely surprised, he stammered, "Erm, Night Owl, Miss Mist." Cute.

"How long have you been serving your squadron?"

Another pause. "I'm new, Miss. I was in training for the last three months, but then I got recruited to Canterlot."

He was barely an adolescent, barely old enough to know how to grip a spear correctly or stand tall for those he swore to protect. And his wide-eyed countenance told her that his early enlistment was not his choice.

Luna seemed to sense her thoughts, answering for her, "As you can see, we've grown desperate to keep the peace in this city, to the point that some of our trainees have been put through early. Most of our veterans are spread all over the city to ensure maximum safety for my subjects."

"No child deserves this," Silver murmured, quiet enough that only Luna heard.

Rather than break into an argument, Luna ignored her comment and continued, "I've taken over the duty of questioning the various witnesses. My sister, capable as she is, must focus on the wind's direction now that the Knight of the Wind has passed on. 'Tis better this way. It can only help to have a fresh mind to uncover the facts and identity of the Canterlot Murderer."

"And to put the bastard down." Luna shifted to the captain, who was leaning into the wall in a sorry attempt to appear casual, but only came off as someone who looked like he was about to faint.

"Phalanx," Luna warned him, "If you aren't capable of performing your duties properly, then may I suggest you get your bedrest?"

His horn sparked hot orange in response. "Why should I sleep peacefully when your subjects cannot? Had I gotten those slack-bum Lunar guards to get to their posts straightaway, none of this would've happened!" Luna attempted to protest, but he then said, "And don't speak to me about sleeping when there's work to be done. You would know yourself why you can't."

Grimly nodding, Luna waved him off. It only took a second for Silver to realize they were referring to her dreamwalking. Hundreds of frightened citizens in one city alone meant a torrent of nightmares to deal with in a single night, and this had been going on for two weeks.

"Never mind. Just try not to say anything foolish." She readjusted, turning back to Silver. "Now, I am going to go through this swiftly as possible, so that we both understand everything about the killer. Night Owl?"

The Lunar Guard withdrew from his armor a file marked with the initials 'O.M.' and passed it to Silver. Her eyes traced the lettering, drinking in the information within. Estimated time of death, September twenty-third, twelve thirty-one. Cause of death . . . shock to the heart?

"We believe the killer," Night Owl said with hesitation when she brought that to attention, "had created numerous lacerations on the cellist's face . . . until the pain was too much for her to stay conscious."

"Mm." Thank Alicorns she couldn't. No soul deserved to suffer for that long. She returned to the file, noting the weapon of choice was a wooden dagger, assumed manipulated with magic, as she herself had seen it used on two other victims. Anyone could carve a wooden dagger, but keeping it sharp and unstained required a meticulous rune spell.

So they were looking for a unicorn that was adept at magic. Correction. They found a unicorn adept at magic; she was being interrogated at this moment, her motives against the late Sir Blueblood being the strongest piece of evidence against her.

Coming to the end of the file, she passed it back to Night Owl. "I noticed that photos weren't documented."

The Lunar guard shifted in place, briefly stealing a glance at her princess, who nodded. "We . . . made an exception for this victim. Yes, it's protocol to document everything, including photos, on the deceased, but . . ." She waited. His mouth opened and closed as though the words he was looking for died before they could leave him.

Finally, he turned to Princess Luna for help. "We had to rely on her cutie mark to first identify her," she said bluntly.

Silver swore quietly, her native language overcoming her.

"I wish I could say that we don't have to do this now, but - " Luna started anew.

"No. I understand. I've put this off too long as it is. Just tell me where I have to start." 

Luna nodded at Phalanx, who shoved himself off the corner and leaned his weight on the table. "Miss Melody's funeral. Day after she died. You were one of the attendees, correct?"

"Yes. Octavia had performed at the Altrotta the previous night, so I was obliged to pay my respects to her . . ."


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


The wingless pegasus stood in the farthest corner of the funeral home, away from the throng that stifled any free air in the small room. Despite the mass, it was so quiet that her ears had been ringing for time now. None of the attendees wanted to even whisper for fear of shattering the small urn with their voices.

The urn, painted grey and lavender, stood on a small pedestal in the back like the centerpiece of a collection of artifacts and idols, and the many who had gathered around it treated it as such.

Some of them were even kneeling before it.

Pathetic. Was there even a small group of mourners not here to kiss flank and make claims of how close they were to her?

At least it was better than what had happened twenty minutes before, when some had started discussing the 'symbolism' of her death. The eyes were the window to the soul, and they were marred when the guards found her corpse, so it must have meant  that she really wasn't the 'saint' she claimed to be. That had turned ugly fast, with the entire room split between those that spat on her name, and those who claimed she was an angel.

But what would they know of angels? They wouldn't know if one was standing in their presence at that moment.

The argument had gotten so heated that Octavia's fellow musicians had to intervene. At least they knew the meaning of respect. The Ponytones, Noteworthy, Lyra Heartstrings--even Countess Coloratura had come to pay her dues, and she wasn't even an advocate of classical music. She'd given a small eulogy about who she was; just a pony who lived her life as she saw fit. Only the Alicorns had the right to judge, not the monster who'd killed her in cold blood.

That quelled the discord between the two opinions quickly, but they were back to this 'worshipping-her-like-a-goddess' nonsense.

It wouldn't have bothered Silver Mist so much, if she was here only to mourn. Really, she wanted to take in the atmosphere, hear what others had to say to honor her memory. Ha. So much for that. Even the idea that ponies were kissing up to gain social status lodged her into such a sour mood that she sought respite in the light champagne she nursed off of.

"Well. Such a shame." The richly suave voice of a mare behind her caught her attention.

Fleur de Lis. She watched the lanky mare tip-toe to the center of the room, towards Hoity Toity. She twirled a near-brimming glass of wine in her pink aura before bringing it to her lips. Blueblood, her venomous son, shadowed her closely, his efforts to court one of the Ponytones shot down when she ignited a small spark on his hoof. Fancy Pants was nowhere to be seen.

There had been whisperings throughout Canterlot that Fleur had divorced him. Something about him being unsupportive of her goals, but Silver knew the truth. She knew all about his connections with Doctor Sparkle, and how much Fleur hated said connections. And fighting to let her keep her equipment, even after her work had been discontinued, must have been the snapping point of their thin thread of marriage.

"There goes another poor soul who could've benefitted our city more," Fleur chuckled daintily. Silver found herself hateful of that laugh. "Truly, irreplaceable." Hoity Toity gave a curt nod, said something in return that was too quiet for her to understand.

"Hello, Miss de Lis. I was hoping I might find you here," said a new voice. Fleur flinched, then turned to face it. Silver couldn't see its owner past her. "Pretty evening tonight, isn't it? A perfect night for equine to come together and mourn for a puppet-master who yanked too hard on the strings for her own good. But you can't blame these ponies; like-minds easily attract to one another."

Silver walked around at an angle, Fleur's body steadily revealing her visitor. She had to scan the area a few times before seeing her; a small unicorn mare wearing an inky cloak to conceal her face and coat color. She faced down, and her pawing at the floor made an uncomfortable clinking sound, but Silver saw the horn jutting out like an outstretched dragon's claw, accusing. 

Fleur was oblivious. "Can you not see we are occupied with our own means?" she snapped. "If you want an autograph so badly, see me at the Maretoria's Secret showcase next week." She wasn't seeing it. How could she, under all that vanity for herself?

"My apologies, O goddess," the mare hummed, her voice mockingly sweet like poisoned honey. "I just wanted to sympathize with you. Losing two of your closest associates is a crying shame. Perfect tools to benefit 'the city' - too bad you cut their strings the second they were useless to you."

She got closer to her.

"Y-you stay away! What are you even babbling about?" Her voice peaked, drawing both glares and curiosities from all around.

The mare laughed quietly. "That . . . that's funny. Octavia said that exact same thing to me before I got her to understand."

She waited a moment, before the collective gasp was taken when they realized. Silver herself winced. She didn't want to believe it, but seeing this mare there put a dangerous, knowing chill into her skin.

The mare lifted her head, her horn crackling a green light. By her command, the floor underneath them groaned and boomed. Silver jumped back as equally startled shrieks filled the room.

Lines of purple-black color filled in the veins of the marble and traced towards Fleur. Any pony in between scrambled away from the light and into the corners. Fleur herself had started for a corner, but froze as the lines met at her hooves and rose up. Four snake-like tendrils met her eyes. They had come up through the floor seamlessly as water, and they followed her every move.

Silver risked a quick glance. Everyone around her was a statue, eyes round and fixed on the pair; they were ticking time bombs about to explode into panic-mode. She wouldn't have enough time.

Then Fleur screamed. The tendrils had latched onto her, one roping her legs together, one seizing her barrel, and the last two wrapping around her neck and skull. They coiled around her so tightly that they became a shell that incased her completely, muting whatever screams she tried to unleash.

Then hell broke loose.

The crowd erupted, all charging for the exit in a wild stampede. Even if there was a chance for guards to show up they would never get past the ponies fighting each other to get through the small doorway.

Silver wedged herself in a small pocket of space, toppling over the glass table she'd sat at before, her mind racing for a way around the crowd. "Everypony! You have to move!" She tried to shout over their terrified cries but just contributed her voice to many in a wall of pure noise.

In between the bodies pushing against each other she spotted Fleur kneeling--no, sinking into the floor. Her knees vanished below, glistening darkness crawling along her legs. She thrashed about, blind to her surroundings, unaware that she was practically being dragged past Hell's gates.

Someone tripped and fell into Silver, his horn punching into her neck as they both went down. Her face landed in the remnants of the table's surface, a puddle of shards amongst the metal frame. She gasped, her vision blotting. Warmth flooded her left cheek; she was certain that side had been cut open by her fall.

Forcing herself up, she faced the crowd once more, not minding that the unicorn fled before giving an apology. She could barely make out Fleur, now down to her barrel, her face exposed from the tendril as the mare was leaned in close. She was whispering something to her and as she did, Fleur's face molded from that of fear to one of knowing horror. Then she was consumed once more. She tried to let out another scream, but it was quickly muted behind those sickly tendrils.

Silver, beyond frustrated, snarled, stamping her hoof into the glass. The bite that ran up her leg in response gave her an idea. Immoral and dangerous, yes, but it was better than watching Fleur die.

Picking a particularly-large shard, she marched towards the river of ponies. "Mve! Ev'pny, mve!" she shouted, mouth tightened around her weapon as she waved it around menacingly. A mare with an open gash bleeding down the side of her face and waving a piece of glass around like a madmare; everyone around her reacted accordingly by shrinking back from the more-immediate danger, opening a gap towards Fleur. But as their fear turned in her favor, some tested it by rushing past her, and a couple of them barely nicking themselves on the edge.

Finally making it through, she spat out the thing and searched for the three ponies.

Gone. Blueblood, the mare, the tendrils she'd summoned, gone. Not a single crack in the floor to say they were ever there. She must have fled upon seeing her coming. 

She took two steps forward but then tripped on something. Looking down, she assumed it excess marble in the floor, a chip forgotten when the floor was smoothed out--then she saw the spark of pink flicker from it. It blinked, slowly and feebly, before snuffing out for good.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


"Were your intentions with the killer lethal, or were you just trying to scare her off?" Phalanx had finally gotten in sync with his duty and spared no question to Silver.

"I . . . I really don't know what I was going to do when I reached her," Silver admitted. There had been little time for planning when she was just trying to fight through the crowd; the captain could easily divulge that from her story. "All that mattered to me was finding a way to get to them both."

"And these--" Phalanx probed, examining her stripped wings "--would be of no use to fly over?"

Silver sighed. "No. Not at all." The look on his face said he was curious about that story, how she lost them, but suddenly having little desire to speak, she silenced herself.

"What of the attack? You say these tendrils she'd summoned, they were a product of dark magic?"

She mentally thanked Luna for diverting the conversation. "I believe so. I could feel it in the air itself when they materialized in front of Fleur de Lis." She yanked a tissue out of its box, the thought of magic being used so malevolently misting her eyes.

"Then that means we are looking for a unicorn with an adept skill in magic, specifically in dark magic, and a load of spite for the upper class," Night Owl pondered. "Would that fit the profile of the young mare we apprehended last week?"

Phalanx shook his head profusely. "Not likely. She hardly knows how to teleport."

"But what if that's her angle?" Both guards turned to Silver.

"What do you mean?"

The pegasus cleared her throat,  her proposal thought carefully before being stated. "This killer has a pattern. Kill the upper class, specifically those who have hidden behind masks their entire lifetime." She rose from her seat, walked to Luna. "Dig deep enough, and you find out that Octavia wasn't the perfect gem that everypony thought she was. Same for Fleur de Lis; her past dictates that she'd manipulated her assets for her own means."

Luna caught on to her idea fast. "So in that philosophy, the killer herself, assuming she is our primary suspect, has been masking herself by hiding her true skill in magic to appear weak."

"But what about her coat color?" Phalanx protested. "Surely white is a severe contrast to grey."

"But keep in mind, dark magic has a wide array of spells that were written in the Pre-Celestial Age. One that could change appearance is not so far-fetched." Luna said quickly, appearing especially nervous, an expression that Silver had never seen on the princess.

"You're grasping at straws, your highness! Anypony could pin a frame job on a weak unicorn and use that claim to keep it pinned!"

"But you arrested Miss Rarity in the first place!" Night Owl exclaimed. "Are you . . . defending your own primary suspect now?"

"I . . . I don't know!" He stomped at the floor, starting all of them. Drew a sharp breath. "Damn it, it's just . . . it feels . . . perfect. Just think. When we apprehended the mare, she looked terrified, didn't know what we were talking about. And the killings; they suddenly halt the day we arrest her? It's just too perfect."

Luna drew a wing over him, just like Celestia did when comforting a weary student. "It's all very confusing, yes. But we must stay vigilant. We will discern if Rarity is our killer or not. But for now, we must learn of the other killings." She turned to Silver. "I apologize for this. You should not play a part in our struggles."

"No, it's fine. I was trying to help, but I think I made things worse." The frustration shared by all four was equal; the more they tried to unravel the truth, the more it became bunched up and convoluted. "I may as well continue. After Fleur had died, your sister made the announcement to advise everypony to stay indoors, or to travel only by day." Sitting down again, she brushed a loose strand of red off her face. "But it was advice, not law. So it was expected for many to disregard it and carry on with their lavish parties."

Night Owl shuffled through his papers. "According to this file, you and your associate, Glider, both were witnesses to the triple murder at one such party last week."

"We were invited by Blueblood," she confirmed, already tasting bile at the back of her throat in mentioning that name. "Since her reputation in the city was growing, I suppose everypony there wanted a piece of it, too."

"Her Altrotta theatre was an instant success."

Nodding, she said, "Everypony needs a little escapism now and then. Her theatre, without bragging, was the perfect outlet to do so. With that said, she'd closed the theatre for the day and had us both attend, despite my reluctance to join . . ." 


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


"Are you certain we should be out here, Glider? I don't feel safe here." Her wings pressed into her side out of uncomfortable habit. She and Glider, her associate and friend, stood in a small circle of empty space, away from the main attraction of the Garden Party hosted by Blueblood.

Glider rolled her eyes, tugging a loose string off the gold-colored gown she'd bought for the party. "Loosen up, already. Nopony's seen the killer in a whole week, so she's probably not coming back. I'm guessing she fled back to some dark cave to suck Fleur's insides out."

Silver flinched at the mental image. "That's not what I mean. And how can you take the loss of life as such a joke?" 

Withering from her pained stare, Glider's orange braid slid onto her face. ". . . fine. Sorry. I just meant . . ." She trailed off, guiding the braid back in its place, behind her shoulder. "Agh, forget it. What are you even afraid of?"

"Them." Silver thrust her muzzle at the crowd of nobleponies. "You do realize that they didn't invite you just know you and your theatre, right?"

She sighed. "Really, Silver? Do you even know me?" She squinted at them, "I knew the second I looked into Blueblood's eyes that he wanted to scrounge up whatever fame I drew to myself, not to 'make friends with me'." She subconsciously looked to her flank, where her cutie mark was hidden under the cheap fabric.

"You may be able to know an individual with just a look," Silver warned, "But stay away from Blueblood nonetheless. Whatever he can offer you is not worth it."

Glider huffed quietly. "Did you already forget how I put that pretty colt in his place?"

She did not. It wasn't even a day ago that he'd slinked up to the theatre, invitation for Glider in aura, and cheap pick-up lines in mouth. And one blue hoof stomped on his manicured hooves when he spewed the first one.

"My point is," she sighed, "I've my own reasons for being here, and it's not to woo the whelp. So relax. Enjoy your time off, before you give yourself an ulcer." She trotted into the thick of the party before Silver could stop her, so she followed her in.

Despite the vastness of the crowd, it was particularly quiet, the only real sounds being the surrounding chatter, infinitesimal in volume, and the violins' melody. Classy. The kind of atmosphere that Glider wouldn't have been caught dead in.

Yet she showed no signs of caring. She sidled by a guest, Fancy Pants, on closer inspection, and politely tapped his shoulder.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," he piped up, turning to her. "You're Miss Glider, correct?"

"That's me, yes. Proud owner of the Altrotta, and friend of yours, if you'd like."

Silver blinked. This was a surprise. Her smile, for the first time in a long time, appeared genuine. As though her age had reversed, the crinkles in her eyes ebbed and revealed a mare so young and innocent. Even the cluster of white freckles--often bunched up between her eyes--relaxed and settled on the bridge of her muzzle.

Fancy hadn't noticed that change, having never met the mare. "Ah, yes. I would appreciate some friendly company right about now." He sighed, brushing a hoof at the back of his head. "I shan't give you a sob story, but my wife broke our marriage off not long before her death. Tragic mess it is, these murders. I just wish I'd been there to help her."

"One shouldn't be too hard on oneself. You had no way of knowing, and no amount of wishing can reverse it." Fancy nodded assent.

She seemed happy. Happy enough that Silver didn't want to interrupt her. But as she wandered off, she faintly heard, 'connections' and 'formula' from Glider's side of the conversation.

"Hm . . ."

Deciding not to think too much about it, she explored the area where the musicians played. Naturally, those Glider had hired were there, and a few nodded to her before resuming playing. They considered her good company, since she never yelled at them like Glider did. She moved on, spotting a group of four ponies - two doctors from the Canterlot hospital, Blueblood, and Avalanche, the theatre's usher.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, approaching the four.

Avalanche turned his head briefly, then back to his companions. "Just enjoying the hors d'oeuvres, Silv'. Mind your own business." The doctors murmured in agreement, holding out glasses to toast the unicorn.

"Does she always snoop so much?" said Blueblood. His sneer made her wince.

"Nope. Just when she thinks it's convenient for her."

She bit her lip, holding back a sharp remark. "I was just curious of the presence of the doctors. I'm not looking to fight." Apologetically, she reached out a hoof to Blueblood.

"Hooves off!" he jumped back. "Do not touch me, clod!" Stroking his tuxedo carefully, he panted, " . . . just had my coat brushed this morning."

Giving some distance, she apologized again, "I didn't mean to offend you. I was just looking for somepony to talk to." Considering recent events, it was hard to carry a conversation past 'hello'.

Blueblood huffed, his back to her. "Well, you came to the wrong ponies to . . . talk. As you can see, I am trying to restore order to the hospital. Now that my mother's passed on, her will dictates that her power as a Governor shifts to me." Was this the reason for this ridiculously-decadent party, to celebrate power being bestowed to Blueblood? "I must do my duty to uphold the same honor and responsibility as she did in life. And you're interrupting it. Shoo."

Having enough, she allowed a small, hostile grin creep in. She'd given him the chance to accept her apology, but he'd rejected it.

"Honor . . . and responsibility? As in upholding those things just like your mother did? That's great, then. Only, is your definition of honor running out of the room while your mother was being sucked into the floor, while I was literally the only one trying to save her?" It was obvious to her. With him nowhere to be found when she got to the place where Fleur died, the only logical explanation was that he fled.

She didn't have to look up to know she had plucked at the right nerve.

He sputtered, presumably unable to find a comeback. "But you failed her," he decided on. "It's because of you  and your useless wings that she's dead!" His outburst drew everyone's attention. Next to Fancy, Glider was crouched down, ready to come to her side.

"At least I tried," she retaliated, jutting her face into his. "You, on the other hand, failed her the second you ran away like the coward you are." Avalanche started towards her, but she quickly snapped, "And you. Don't think I do not know what you did. Glider made it a policy that all are welcome in her theatre, and you know it. So why did you think it was justified to deny a baby dragon in as well?"

Actually, she already scolded him on this, after the grand opening, but she wanted to see the look on his face, being chided like a child at a party where he was trying to build reputation for himself.

"Dragons, yes, could burn buildings down. But this one was the savior of the Crystal Empire. I think one of that heroic magnitude could restrain a few sparks in his maw. You were just being spiteful towards his friends, including that doctor, yes?"

She heard everyone murmuring around her. Dragon or pony, saving an empire wasn't something to be overlooked. Glider had relaxed beside Fancy, her foxy smile standing out.

Avalanche backed away, torn down and intent on leaving. But he bumped into a small mare and jumped back, next to Blueblood.

"You know, I was literally about to say those things myself," the mare said, a laugh clear in her voice. "These ponies don't deserve the praise given to them, after all. But, you, Silver Mist, are certainly wise to see past the veil of fame." She stepped out, her hoofsteps in the grass magnified by the breaths that everyone held. They all knew who she was, hearing her voice. Silver's ears rang from the prolonged silence.

The Canterlot Murderer flashed her eyes beneath her hood, penetrating Silver's before shifting to Blueblood and Avalanche.

L e t 's  j u s t  g e t  t h i s  o v e r  w i t h.

Everyone around her scuffled back, quickly, some tripping over one another. They must have heard it, too. The silent voice had drilled into her, its echo dancing in her head. But before she could fathom what that was, the mare darted forward, wooden dagger unsheathed. Her figure was a fleeting shadow, her purple coat melted with black cloak as she rushed past Silver. And towards Avalanche.

A slice.

A scream.

Several screams.

Hooves retreating. 

That was what Silver heard before she could register Avalanche laying in the grass. Green eyes blanker than an old, broken emerald, and vital fluid seeping from his throat.

And beside him? A writing Blueblood, Avalanche's blood having sprayed across his face. His eyes wild, he looked at his hooves which were equally coated from the growing puddle. 

Then the screams came. 

"S-somepony get a hose! Please!" He tried wiping the blood off on the grass, only succeeding in getting loose blades stuck to his hooves and face. His breaths were unspeakably rapid as he ran in circles, looking someone to help him. But everyone he encountered fled, terrified by his appearance.

Silver, horrified herself, retreated behind the trees. If she moved, even an inch, who would say he wouldn't maul her in his terror?

The mare just watched him. Of course he wouldn't go near her. But it was her instead who approached. "What's the matter?" she hissed, pressing a hoof into his chin. "Afraid of getting dirty!"

Still he squirmed in her grip. His screams turning hoarse, he finally collapsed into the ground, his movements becoming slower and slower. The light in his eyes ebbed like a dying flashlight, until his cries dwindled to whimpers . . . then nothing.

Silver pried herself from her hiding spot. It felt forbidden to even breathe after witnessing . . . that. Her chest felt so heavy when she forced air in. Even so, she lifted her hooves to get to the mare and deal with her. But Fancy Pants beat her to it.

"H-how . . . ? How can you even begin to live with yourself, knowing you've committed these . . . atrocities?" He stopped when less than a foot from her.

The mare faced him, both boring into each other. Silver's current position allowed her to see his eyes; blue and hardened. Little beads of sweat were visible under his horn, yet he remained rooted where he was.

Finally, the mare said, "I saddle it to my future self, who ponders my actions and determines that what I'm doing is worthy of her attention. I am purging this city of its worst hypocrites."

"And . . . I suppose I am next on that list?" he stiffened. "I know what you are about to say; you will tell me that I had let my wife control me for too long, manipulating my actions to follow the example of the unprincipled nobles. I will confess. I did so willingly, to show that I loved her - not to be like them." His tone was accepting. Raw fear glinted in his eyes, yet he was accepting what was about to happen.

"Love blinds us, Fancy Pants. Some of us don't know when to quit when we fight to keep our lovers, never realizing that the cost of keeping them will be too great."

Silver blinked, her instinct to help him suppressed. They spoke as though just passing the time, talking about the values of the hospital. She knew what was going to happen, yet couldn't bring herself to move.

Fancy sighed. "I was fooled by her beauty, inside and out. She was once beautiful on the inside, personality almost matching mine, not to boast. But she changed. Very much so over the years. I was fooled into thinking she was still the same, so I fought to keep her, completely ignorant of the consequences around us.

"So . . ." he lowered his head in submission " . . . do what you will. I just want my son back. I want to see my true wife again."

"Fancy . . . don't . . ." Silver's voice felt raw, her words, poison, as though spitting them out could only be done so little at a time.

Then the mare murmured, shakily, "You're the f-first to admit your wrongs. And you did, in the end, make up for it by sacrificing ev-everything for my friend. T-thank you."

With a quick step, and a sharp snap, Fancy fell over, joining Blueblood and Avalanche. His blank eyes, still open, bore into Silver, whose knees gave way as she knew she did nothing to save him. The mare, either ignoring or blind to her presence, walked away, whispering under her breath before teleporting.


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊


Phalanx shifted his focus from Luna to Silver. "You're saying he willingly let her kill him? He didn't even try to fight back? Flee? And what about you? You say you did nothing to save him, even when she was right there!"

She glanced up from the table's surface, in which she'd been unconsciously drawing circles with her hoof. "I can't explain exactly why I didn't help. I just felt frozen. More than that. Apathetic . . . I just felt myself not caring if he lived or died, yet another part of me wanted to fight those feelings. It felt like I'd been 'discorded' all over again."

She shuddered at that last part. After breaking from his prison and corrupting all of Ponyville, Discord's influence stretched to Canterlot and hit everyone there hard. She and Glider - then occupied with refurbishing the future Altrotta's interior - turned on each other, Glider suddenly hogging the funds for the theatre, and herself not even caring that she wasted it all on flight suits. The incident had set the theatre's opening back by six months.

Luna spoke up, shaking her from her memory. "It seems to me that Fancy Pants was fully aware of the actions which earned our killer's spite." Phalanx must have again brought up Fancy's passive behavior. "Even if he wanted to, I doubt he considered fleeing a viable option."

"But the least he could have done was stall for time!" Night Owl protested. "Divulge her identity, maybe?"

"No, this killer's much smarter than that. Remember the point I made, about how our suspect being the killer is too perfect?" Phalanx corrected him. "Anypony smart enough to successfully pin a frame job on another's bound to know how to act exactly like said scapegoat."

"And it doesn't exactly help that Miss Rarity's being far too stubborn for her own good."

Silver nodded in agreement with Night Owl. She herself read in the papers of how uncooperative she was with the guards who arrested her, and how reserved she'd been in past interrogations, despite the raw details being redacted.

"But the clear evidence is still there," said Luna. "She has connections with both Fancy Pants and Doctor Sparkle, the latter whom Fancy did sacrifice his reputation to aid, and a . . . history . . . with Blueblood. Not to mention Silver Mist's valid point that she may have been hiding her true talent in magic."

Her Lunar guard sucked in a slow breath, as though carefully gathering his thoughts. "Yeah . . . about that doctor?"

" . . . yes?"

He was oblivious to Luna's suddenly-tense expression. "She matches those exact credentials as well, doesn't she? Adept in magic, and had a bad history with the other Governors - she was close to Fancy Pants, to boot."

Phalanx perked up. " . . . Huh. And she has been locked away in that study for quite some time. How does -"

"And why would a doctor, consumed with her work, suddenly drop it to murder her adversaries?" Silver butted in. "Think about it. She'd been working since . . . um, four weeks now? Right before this all started, I think. But she's been working for a cure for her comatose mother. And she'd suddenly throw all that away for petty revenge?"

Luna, looking far more relieved now, joined in. "And not to mention the city-wide lockdown. Now that we're dealing with a serial killer, nopony is allowed to enter or exit the city - save for Equestrian officials - and nopony is allowed to travel alone or by night; this killer is now rendered unable to leave the city without revealing herself, and Doctor Sparkle has been nowhere but in her study.

"She may be many things, but a petty vengeance-seeker is not one of them." She faced Phalanx. "Does that answer your question?"

Her captain took two trembling steps back. If not the clear evidence, her faith in Twilight was sure enough to convince him. "Yeess . . . Your Highness. I meant no offence. It's our duty to check every piece of evidence, and I was just doing my job." Night Owl, meanwhile, avoided her gaze in case she came after him next. He was the one who brought it up.

"Yes, yes, doing your job, good for you. Now, I believe Silver Mist has informed us of everything she knows -" she paused, waiting for her to confirm that she had no other details to share "- so if you would kindly escort her home, that would be doing your job."

"Your Highness," both Phalanx and Night Owl said in unison.

She eyed Silver next. "And thank you for your assessment. I have no doubt that with it we will put an end to this terror."

Silver nodded, following the guards out. The interrogation room was deep in the castle, so they had a long way of turns and stairs to traverse before they were out on the abandoned streets.

Winking starlight lighting their way, the guards were especially cautious in their steps. Following Celestia's order to lock the city down, hardly anyone went out anymore. Just wasn't worth the risk to shop or socialize, supposedly - even if the specific order was that they could travel by day, and in groups of no less than three.

" . . . going to take a massive hit on the economy," Silver heard Phalanx mutter. He and his lunar counterpart trotted ahead of her, side by side.

"It's for everypony's safety. You know that. And the killer hasn't shown her face since that triple murder last week. Who's to say she'll come back again? Maybe she's had her fill of blood and death."

"You said that a week ago, right before the triple murder, when she didn't show up again after Fleur. And what about after this is all over? A city-wide lockdown is no joke. Businesses here'll lose money fast, be lucky if they don't close down. And the presses all over the nation'll be swarming us for news, never letting us a moment's peace." He paused five heartbeats before speaking again. "Even if this bastard vanishes tonight, the damage she did'll affect us for a long time."

Silver stopped listening. How quietly they spoke clearly said this conversation was their own. But they did have a point; now that everyone was too scared to leave the refuge of their homes, many, if not all, businesses were going to have a hard time of surviving. Glider threw a fit when the gravity of the situation dawned on her, her theatre only just starting out.

They came the stone stairs leading to the Altrotta. "You, uh . . . okay to go from here, Miss Mist?" Night Owl asked her, leaning his weight on the lamppost by end of the steps.

"Yes, I'll be fine. Go home, and quickly, the both of you." A pony so young deserved a good night's rest.

They both nodded, then galloping back into the night after each other. Only the Royal Guards were allowed to travel in pairs, as they were more than trustworthy to travel alone.

Silver exhaled, pushing herself up the steps and inside the large building, heading straight for the staircase leading to the second floor. A much easier job nowadays, since nearly all tables and cushions had been put back into storage. Save for a few musicians and actors playing cards and several ponies who couldn't make it home before evening, the place was barren.

Just as lifeless as the streets.

Once she got to her quarters, a small room with but a fat cushion and a birch wood dresser sparingly covered with random knickknacks, she settled on the cushion. It wasn't much for a bed, but that was her choice. Mattresses were expensive anyway. She meant to go see Glider, but talking about death and bloodshed all afternoon and into the evening wore her down to her soul.

She'd almost drifted, only startling awake when hearing grinding from the other room. Glider's. "Hm?"

Getting up, she switched over to Glider's room, finding the blue pegasus sharpening a prop blade. Technically, it was real, but previously dulled for obvious reasons.

"Glider? What are you doing?" She didn't answer, setting the blade down and fetching a breastplate that fit perfectly on her small frame. "Glider." Her student weaved towards a mirror instead, checking her reflection, then nodded, satisfied. Silver huffed. "Gliding Du -"

"That's not my name," she grunted, her head finally snapping to her. Then she sighed, disgusted. "Why do you have to do that? You know I hate that name."

At least it worked to get her attention. "I would not have to, if you would answer me. Now, what is the meaning of this?" She waved her hoof at the sword and breastplate to emphasize.

"What's it look to you? I'm going to kill that murderer. Going to give her a taste of her own medicine; see how she likes it when some monster comes at her, weapon blazing, and ruins her business."

"Oh, really?" Silver deadpanned. "And you've forgotten about our lockdown, and the fact that this pony is deadly."

Glider scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I can fight. And if these guards won't get off their rumps to do something, then I will." Taking the sword, she sheathed it at her side. "And lockdown or no lockdown, you won't stop me."

"You know I wouldn't. But would you kindly tell me why you want to break curfew, attempt murder, and risk getting killed yourself?"

"Think, Silver. These ponies are desperate to stop her from getting to other cities, but they won't do what's necessary."

"Because the fight could ruin public property - "

"It's just buildings; they can be fixed."

" - Or have somepony else seriously injured."

"The needs of many outweigh the needs of few. Some ponies have to die for a better cause. Those caught in the crossfire are just unlucky." She messed with her armor, tightening the straps. "Besides, when I kill this pony, who's been terrorizing us all and leaving the guards too scared to do their job, the Princesses will be obliged to reward me. Me, the hero of Canterlot, finally getting what she deserves."

Silver trembled. Wherever this was going, she knew that it would be unpleasant. "And that is . . .?"

Glider sighed, as though incredulous that she didn't know. "The TS8 Formula! I heard it from the doctor herself, back at my opening! The evil in every heart comes in many shapes and forms; comatose states, physical ailments - " she lifted a wing right at her temple " - Mental illnesses. And Fancy Pants! He told me that she's just about got it down! It's close, so close to hitting the shelves."

So that was why she was so interested in him. Not for fame. Not for friendship. For a potion. Silver broke her eyes off from her. Should have know she was getting her hopes up. That genuine smile had to have meant something good, that she was finally healing after . . .

"You were never interested in giving friendship a chance, were you?"

"Of course not. You know how I feel about friends and family; not worth my time to quibble about stuff like that. But just think, Silver! I can finally cure myself. I'll be . . . normal. Isn't that what you wanted?" Her eyes were wide with hope, as though expecting Silver to agree instantly.

This was not going to go well. Even as Silver hesitated, she saw her smile fade. "Glider . . . do you really think that your anxiety can be cured . . . by a potion? You're practically scraping the bottom of the barrel, looking to drown your problems in a 'miracle liquid'. That's no better than an alcoholic's escapism." A crack began to form in Glider's pane of hope. But she couldn't stop herself. "I became your mentor to help you learn how to cope with your illness, not to abolish it. If you do this, you will never be the same again."

"B-but that's what I want . . . t-to be normal . . . not . . . this." She gestured to herself.

"But what will the cost be, to rid yourself of the cons of your mind? Will you lose the pros as well? You attentiveness to ponies' personalities? Your boundless generosity? I can already see you losing it, just considering this . . . thing!"

Her eyes hardened to their familiar state. "I-I don't care! Don't you want your wings back?" Harsh blow. Of course she wanted to fly again. "Well, I want a calm mind that doesn't freak at even the slightest complication!" Her breaths started to get more violent. "You've got no idea how this feels! To be stared at like you've got a tentacle creeping outta your eyes! The second they know you, they think you're brain-dead, useless, unable to do anything for them - yourself!"
Silver tried comfort her, but she flinched. "T-that's the only reason you ever came to me, isn't it? Because I'm useless without you. And now that I have a way out, you don't want me to have it! So that I don't need you anymore, is that it!"

She started to hyperventilate. Silver had to get to her before she passed out again. "N-no, of course not! I just want you to consider what you are about to -"

"No!" She swatted at her, then put her face in her hooves. "Just stop it. Stop looking at me like I'm some . . . useless thing. I promise things will get better when Doctor Sparkle fixes me." She lifted her head, her gold eyes tinged with red. "Just . . . let me do something for myself for once."

She pulled away again, this time diving out the window. Her wings spread out, picking her up in midair. Silver watched her silhouette being consumed by the night, carrying her off to a bitter path where the killer waited. Reluctantly turning away, she brought herself back to her room. There was nothing left to be done for her. 

Mind numb, she came to her dresser and toyed with the knickknacks there. Most of it was stuff considered seeds of nature; broken acorn shells, pine needles bundled together with maroon ribbon, and small rocks formed into curious shapes by the stretch of time. Some of it was considered by many treasures of the world, such as the gold chain bracelet she'd found on a snowy path five years ago, right before meeting Glider, or the gold bit that had a pinprick hole near its rim, a charm she'd many times considered making into a necklace, but never did so.

But what she treasured most of all was the single grey feather laying in the center, the greatest piece of her collection. Taking it in her gentle grip, she saw traces of dirt and the notch near the top from all those years of carrying it around. But even so she couldn't imagine parting with it. It was the last reminder of who she was before coming to Equestria.

She hugged the feather close to her one more time. Never did she want Glider to think of her as a disciplinarian. She just wanted to be seen as she was; a pony who gave her more than a second glance when she needed a friend.

Setting the feather back in its place, she walked back to the window, cold wind caressing her mane and 'wings'. The last breeze on her face. The last calm breath she would take.

The last good-bye.

And just like clockwork, the quiet, careful, but still audible steps she was expecting tapped behind her. She closed her eyes. Felt the air around her turn bitterly cold.

"I would offer you my hospitality, but . . . you know how it is. So let me be straight to the point; I know who you are. I . . . suppose I figured it out when Luna was acting jittery upon mentioning you. She was trying to protect you, wasn't she?" She shook her head, disdained. "But I'm not the one you're after, am I? Whatever Gliding Dust did to hurt you, she did it for her family."

She chuckled. "But she's always been tough on the outside. To know how to hit her hard, you've had to pay attention. So I presume that your way of getting back at her . . . is through me."

Letting go of her wispy breath, she faced Twilight Sparkle - or, as of now, Nightfall Hyde. "Do what you will. I'm dead anyway."

Twilight kept her jade eyes fixed on her, only the unsheathing of her breath being her response. Finally, counting her hoof on the wooden floor, her wicked blade slid out from under her cloak.