For many years, I’ve studied ancient artifacts under the tutelage of a highly respected figure in the historical community. He was my boss and my mentor who ran a successful museum in Trottingham. But after his unexpected departure from overseeing his business, it has since been shut down. But before I packed up and left the museum, I ended up stumbling upon my boss’s secret study and found a wide collection of rare artifacts and research about them. I had learned more about rare commodities in that room than I ever did in the years he spent teaching me. The most fascinating thing was that there was so much more research dedicated to a particular item called the Alicorn Amulet in his study than any of the other artifacts. I also came upon a paper illustration on his desk. It was of a male unicorn with a black cracked heart for a cutie mark.
Intrigued to find out the significance of it, I went from town to town, city to city, asking ponies if they recognized it. One pony in Detrot recalled seeing him with another pony, who pointed me to a university in Vanhoover. The university pointed me to a physical rehabilitation center in Baltimare. I visited a stallion there who was physically handicapped: his front left leg and his right hind leg were completely missing. They had both been amputated due to a severe injury. I asked the stallion if he recognized the pony in the photo, that I was trying to piece together a connection between him and my former boss. Upon seeing the photo, he became emotionally distressed and furious. He demanded that I leave the center at once, which I complied.
A week later, he sent me a letter asking for my return. He agreed to explain all he knew about the photo under the condition that I look into all the events surrounding this unicorn leading up to what the stallion had experienced. He also wanted me to compile everything I gathered into a narrative story and publish the work. He wanted all of Equestria to know what he and others involved went through. It was an unusual request, but I agreed to those terms. I had to know what went down, but nothing could prepare me for what I was about to find out.
He told me the pony in the illustration’s name was Gloomy Dusk, that he used to live in Detrot, and that he is now deceased. All further details he gave will be reserved for the story. His testimony gave me many leads to other eyewitnesses, either seeing or interacting with Gloomy Dusk. Though I have taken some artistic liberties with this story as per request by the stallion, it is strongly based off of true events.
