Sparkyll and Hyde

by Dragon Spire

Act I: Chapter Ten

Act I: Chapter Ten:
. . . This Time, the Predator's Me!

". . . So I told Blueblood off. Told him, 'You wouldn't know a decent wine if your 'auntie' poured it down your tuxedo!' Oh, how he shut up right then. Gave me a well-earned peace." Octavia chuckled quietly, her weariness dragging her back into the melody of her hooves clacking on the pavement. Having received a generous payment for her performance alongside her partner-slash-rival at the Altrotta Theatre, she only wanted to return to her cozy flat.

Still, yet still, she had her shoulders forced back, her head held high, and every step taken meticulously. Appearances were everything, after all. Even the few Solar Guards who stood by, eager to end their shift, could spread unhealthy rumors should she lose posture for but a moment.

But she wouldn't.

She didn't have to look to her reflection in the windows to know that she carried herself with the grace of an angel. And the crescent moon which hovered over the city like a dim flashlight further enforced that image.

Bouncing beside her, Deejay PON-3, or Vinyl Scratch, nodded her head in agreement of her story. That she got respite from Blueblood's nonsense, that he knew nothing of wine, or that plucking that raw nerve with the Gala was fitting payback, Octavia couldn't say. Vinyl couldn't exactly clarify with head nods.

Actually, she seemed more focused on where her hooves bounded in erratic steps rather than what she was saying. And with each step, the impossibly-large hunk of metal on her back--her 'instrument' that folded when in disuse--swayed uncomfortably, threatening to crush her like a bug at any moment.

Octavia tried not to sigh. Unfortunately, she couldn't speak her mind, not until the guards' shift ended in a few minutes. Come midnight, they would begin to switch with their bat-pony Lunar counterparts, leaving them enough time to talk for themselves.

"So," she tried to start up a conversation anew, "Today was an interesting day. Soon after I'd finally rid this city of Doctor Sparkle's work, I came across a young ex-student of Celestia's school."

She heard her friend's pace slow. Turning back, she saw the deejay wore an withering stare.

"Erm, well, that is, this unicorn," she stammered, "Was quite interested in an internship at the hospital. Said that she wanted to be a Governor like myself and make a difference in the city."

Having forgotten about the row between her and Doctor Sparkle, Vinyl jabbed a hoof at her open mouth, tongue dripping out.

"Oh, come now, being a Governor is a prosperous opportunity for education, benefitting livelihood--oh, wait, deejays wouldn't care much for that sort of thing. They just lurk in the dark looking for their next prey to feast on." She laughed as Vinyl clutched her heart as if staking herself through for such a low blow. But soon after she fell back into her walking rhythm, oblivious to Octavia's craving for conversation.

Having enough, Octavia glanced to the guards. Many as they were, their numbers thinned as they drew closer to the train station. "Vinyl, please, just talk to me," she whispered. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Seeing the irritation behind her purple glasses, she watched her look around as well, then practically ripped them off. "Look, y--" Her voice came out choked from phlegm buildup, forcing her to clear her throat before starting over. "Tavi, you know how I feel 'bout talking in the open. Too risky for these dolts to know ya."

"Dear, if this is about your fears of nobleponies hearing you, stop," she said, prodding her side. "Everypony knows your association with me; therefore they see you as my equal, regardless of if you can or cannot speak."

She flinched as her friend shoved her hoof away. "Pshhh, yeah right. Only thing they feel for me is restraint. Not for you, they'd send me running back to Ponyville.

"They know nothing. They covet my connections to all genres of music, something which they shall never get their hooves on."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not talking around other ponies, period. You're the only one I trust with my secret. Think you of all ponies should know that having a secret hiding in plain sight suddenly released can send a small shock through 'em."

Like it or not, she was right. Canterlot wasn't known for its diversity in culture, and dubstep was considered the lowest of low in the eyes of nobles. So something this juicy in terms of gossip would ruin Vinyl for good.

"Fine. Just--just fine. Do as you will. But what I fail to understand is why you've ever let that veil be presented in the first place." When first meeting, it was mere accident that she found that Vinyl could talk. Why she played mute was another story, one that she never felt comfortable telling once.

Instead of answering right away, Vinyl looked around, waiting to pass the next guard. Only after he nodded them along upon their passing did she enlighten her. "Remember when Discord broke out and mushed everypony's brains into jelly?"

Octavia shuddered in answer. The memories of seeing nothing but her reflection melt into mutilated monstrosities wherever she looked were still raw in her mind.

"Yeah, well, I got stuck with me being forced to talk 'till my voice ran hoarse. And then some!"

"Shhh . . ." The guard perked his head up a bit.

"Okay, so yeah, the big guy just kept laughing at me, said it was so funny that I didn't trust anypony past you. Said everypony was scum in my eyes 'cept you."

Octavia blinked, not understanding.

"Well, they are. I didn't figure it out 'till after he was sealed again. You can't trust everypony, Tavi. If there's a stuck-up jerk that doesn't like your opinion or who you are, they'll destroy you. Every word you say, they'll find a way to warp it 'gainst you and ruin all your dreams."

She learned that from Discord? God of chaos and disharmony? So she was basically saying that it was okay to play mute for everyone just because she was untrusting. Octavia almost shouted at her for taking such an immature lesson from the demon.

But it did make some sense. Truth turned into lies to ruin names, reputations, even hopes for the future. And with simple disagreement as the root of the cause, this practice was practically mandatory in Canterlot.

Something about that plucked at her skin and crawled with an icy chill down her back.

Vinyl noticed her expression and said, "Hey, I'm alright, Tavi. C'mere." She grabbed Octavia into a tight headlock that nearly choked her.

But what did she care? It was a pleasant feeling, being this close to her. She almost got even closer before realizing what she was doing, in the sight of the guards.

Yanking herself out of the embrace, she berated herself for being careless.

They trotted in silence for some time, until reaching the station. Just past it and off in the distance, a train howled its coming arrival, so Octavia hurried to pay the fare and lead Vinyl to the platform.

To her surprise, the deejay darted to the very edge, so closely that the Friendship Express nearly took her muzzle off upon pulling in. Not to her surprise, she silently protested when Octavia bit her tail and yanked her back. Only when the train had stopped did she release and let her dash into the train car.

She paused, realizing that she wasn't followed. She poked her head towards the seats as if to say, 'Well, you coming?'.

"I'm . . . afraid I can't. That unicorn I mentioned? As a governor, only I can file for her internship tomorrow. I can't exactly further the career of such an student in Ponyville, now can I?" Vinyl hopped in place, pointing at her instrument, then the cello. "Yes, yes, I'm aware. But I cannot just drop my duties for a sudden collaboration. I'm sorry."

The deejay shook her head, giving a soft smile as she backed up, letting the door slide closed.

Good. She bought it. Truthfully, she could file that internship whenever without consequence. But it was better to say otherwise, if only to avoid being dragged to Ponyville. The last thing she needed was for a stray reporter to catch her picture there. Especially not now, when everything was going so smoothly for her in terms of reputation.

But Vinyl . . . she stood out from the hogwash that was Ponyville; she did not let it define her or her music. She was an enigma wrapped in a ribbon of dubstep, yes, but that was what made her stand out in the first place. To live in a place like Ponyville was a fate that she didn't deserve. And Octavia's attempts to get her to move in with her were always shot down into the dust.

She'd never sever her roots, not ever. Octavia knew this as she watched her friend take her seat.

With a long hiss, the train pulled away, leaving the cellist alone in the lingering quiet. At least she was alone now; the streets being so abandoned, the trip home would be a cinch.

Turning about, she exited the station and beelined for the shopping district, her flat being right in the middle of it.

If only it weren't so cold tonight. The short time between getting to and leaving the station had allowed the wind to pick up considerably, the chill almost pushing her off her hooves.

"Alicorns above, Blueblood, would it kill you to ease up? Even I'm--"

"Octavia Melody."

She sucked in a sharp breath, hooves grinding into the pavement. "What--who's there?" Someone certainly did call her name from behind. Upon turning to the direction of the voice she found only darkness. At her hooves, the pearly moonlight flittered like the surface of a lake. Then a small shadow fled across, ripples of ink breaking the illusion.

Following the shadow, her eyes set on the presumed owner of the voice: a small, slender bat-pony with a dark cloak, its hood drawn over her horn. How she had a horn, Octavia was dumbstruck to figure that out, since bat-ponies, far as she knew, only had wings. Yet the slits in her green eyes said she was certainly of their kind. "Alicorns Above," she swore again, "You frightened me! Do you realize how rude it is to sneak up like that?"

The newcomer didn't so much as blink. Had she closed her eyes she would have blended perfectly into the walls with her grey coat. "It's a splendid evening tonight, isn't it?" she said in a hush. Octavia blinked, moonlight catching her eyelashes. Was she talking to herself, or just shooting the breeze? "I think so. It warms this pony's heart to see that friendship yet thrives, even in this decadent city."

Or she had drunk one too many hard ciders before her shift.

"I-I beg your pardon? Are you insulting your own city?" she asked, drawing closer to the poor soul.

Again the guard took no notice of her, save for eyeing her in such a way that one would at Tartarus' curious demons of old. "And what a lovely pair of friends this city has to behold: The elegant cellist, Miss Melody, and the 'mute' deejay, Vinyl Scratch, from Ponyville of all places!

"Still," she hummed, suddenly taking interest in twirling her hoof daintily before her face, "A fine friendship that bloomed from those differences. Though, I would think your friend's almost certainly the wrong gender to associate yourself as more than friends, wouldn't you agree?"

Heat flooded Octavia's face. How could she know that--?

She swallowed, stepping back a bit before remembering who was above who. "Y-you dare insult me? You realize that anypony could hear us, spread that nonsense to the papers? That's a right way to ruin one's good name around here!" Brushing a strand of mane back, she pleaded, "If you cannot keep your sorry lies to yourself, I suggest you shove them back into whatever hellhole you've conjured them from. And tell your fellow guards to mind their own business, too, once you're sober!"

Huffing under her breath, she turned to leave. The guard instead let out a bout of laughter that seized her in place.

So child-like . . .

"That . . . that's funny, isn't it, my friend?" Octavia opened her mouth to deny their friendship, but then heard, "She thinks we're drunk. We offer truth to her, and she takes it like we're all tipsy." She chuckled again, stepping around to meet the cellist's eyes.

"W-what is this? Some kind of joke from Vinyl?" No, it wasn't, she realized. Vinyl's pranks were juvenile, low-brow on occasion, but not unnerving like this. This was real. "Have you gone mad? Your superiors shall hear of this when I'm done with you!"

"Oh, I assure you, I'm quite sane. More sane than I've ever been. It's all thanks to my best friend. I was so confused in the beginning, but I've finally set myself apart from her. I am me, now."

The mare--not a guard, Octavia realized, as there was no armor jutting from under her cloak--took a step towards her. Octavia retreated two.

"What are you babbling about? I don't understand!" Octavia demanded. Her chest felt heavy with the greedy breaths she drew in.

Rocks shifted from behind her, eliciting a sharp yelp from her. The mare used the distraction to get uncomfortably close to her. "And it's been liberating. So much truth I've witnessed since. And what I've come to know," she purred, tracing a hoof along Octavia's jawline. "Is that I can do what my friend was too much of a coward to. I can peel away those wretched façades, those masks, and reveal truth to all."

Octavia swatted her hoof away, stepping back shakily. "Get . . . get away from me . . ."

"Oh, but I wouldn't be so eager for your turn. You may find that the raw flesh isn't so pretty compared to nectary skin."

Eyes and horn lit up in a haunting glow. More pebbles clattered from behind Octavia. Just when she was about to turn again, something seized her hind leg.

The cellist screamed, flailing forward on her forelegs, and gasped desperately. The thing that had her was cold, so cold that it felt like the claw of the Reaper.

Ice squirmed up her leg and spread to the rest of her body. Her mind slogged, her vision blurring as she saw her assailant's silhouette drawing closer.

As she drew her head close, she could see sharp, manticore-like incisors poking out from her opening maw. Octavia forced slow, focused breaths through her lungs. She had to focus!

The muscles in the mare's neck tensed up; just a little longer . . .

Her muzzle clenched into a snarl. Now!

Octavia rolled to the side, just hearing the air snap as the mare's jaw came down. Not fast enough. Octavia felt the sting of a tooth pricking upon her dodge. Still the mare made contact with the pavement, her teeth scraping against stone. She recoiled back, snarling under her breath.

The binding slid off Octavia's hind leg at once, its chill still hovering over her skin. Smirking, Octavia stood, only to feel warmth dribbling down her ear. She brushed the spot, finding a thick glob of her blood upon pulling her hoof back. She . . . she actually bit me! I'll . . . I'll make her pay for--

Movement flittering out of the corner of her eyes, she glanced up. And flinched.

The mare was recuperated, legs poised for a pounce and eyes tracing her body like a meal.

Quick, numb pulses pricked her veins. Drunk, spiteful, or mad--or perhaps all three--this pony was a wraith out for blood. Her blood.

A grin crept across the creature's face, as though daring her to run.

Oh, I will. And then you can consider yourself screwed, miscreant. She wheeled about, hooves skidding before carrying her away to the shopping district, where most of the guards were occupied for the constant burglaries that happened there. Scared silly as she was, she didn't have to fear, knowing the guards were right around the corner.

"Guards! Arrest this pony! She's . . . !" No reply. "Hello! Anypony!" But still nobody came. What in damnation is wrong with these guards! Do they not know of 'protect and serve'! The cello bearing down on her, she stopped short, whipping her head about for those lazy excuses for soldiers.

"Nopony is coming for you, Miss Melody." Octavia jumped, barrel colliding into the side of the floral shop. The voice was everywhere; from every shop surrounding her, to the open skies, even emanating from the wall she'd pinned herself against.

Yelping, she jumped again, away from there, batting at the air around her hysterically. "Why should they, if they knew just what kind of pony you were? And even if they rose above their spite, why would they hurry to slip their armor on, when the mist is their only companion through the night?"

Cold traced along her neck. She looked up to the moon. Midnight. You fool! The Guards are changing out! She wanted this! The cold pricked at her when she realized why she wanted this. Nobody to see . . . or to intervene.

Growling, she pushed herself off, charging for the street leading to her flat. A shadow grew in her path, rising into the form of the mare as she laughed in her face.

Spinning back, she aimed to take the other way, but met with the same result.

"Arrggh!" Octavia screamed into the empty air, her adrenaline having dulled her brain. She cursed herself, realizing that she'd just given her position away.

Just think! Nopony can be everywhere at once, not even the Alicorns! Therefore, these shadows existed to keep her guessing, and keep her trapped. So where could she go that she didn't block off? The shadows at her hooves swirled in ocean-like waves, rippling with the nearing steps of the mare.

Where!

Her eyes scanning furiously over her surroundings, they set on a narrow alleyway. The mare had blocked the main streets, mainly the ones leading to her flat. So an off-course path would be left alone. She dove for it at once, her side ramming into the corner.

Once inside she noticed that there were shredded papers and empty cans, all undoubtedly accumulated from past wind storms. But it still caught her off guard when her back legs scrambled on discarded plastic. She shot both front hooves into the walls to keep from falling, smarting the flat part of them.

Pushing herself back up, she ran on, her hooves tearing up any unfortunate scraps of paper that were in her way. She constantly hit her barrel against the narrow walls, and the neck of her cello case screeched against the wall, chips of brick raining on her head.

On and on the gap stretched, with little more than lines of concrete and closed windows clouding her vision. The constant sameness of the walls started to sink into her, her imagination that the walls were getting more narrow growing wild.

Finally, some ten feet ahead, the night sky twinkled like a beacon. She exhaled a pent-up breath, desperate to cut the distance.

Eight feet . . . Something clattered from behind a ways off.

Five feet . . . hooves clicked in the street like a dying heartbeat.

Two . . . the sound was approaching her!

Octavia halted, gnawing her lip to contain the raw scream that'd nearly escaped. If she just stayed still, maybe that mare would leave.

"You cannot flee forever . . ."

Swirling in her ears, the mare's voice locked Octavia's joints in place. Even if she wanted to move, her ramming pulse had other intentions. Every pump of her heart threatened to pry her mouth open, threatened to sing out her location to the mare.

"Masks crumble . . . skin rots . . . truth escapes, and liars fall."

Copper filled Octavia's mouth. Her bowtie squeezed her throat like an awaiting noose that tightened with every louder step that the mare took.

She could swear the air was getting harder to mold into her chest. Finally unable to keep herself rooted, she bolted for the exit, her foreleg scraping the wall as she did.

Her gamble paid off poorly.

Something, the same cold something that'd gripped her, swiped at her forelegs, both collapsing beneath her. Octavia rolled along the road, into a stone fence, groaning from the impact. All four legs clenched into themselves; she didn't want to move or see the mare was waiting.

But she was. She withdrew the demonic things, whatever they were, and stepped out into the moonlight. By whatever dark workings, she'd been in the alley with her, as she slipped out of the crevice with a thin frame and ease that Octavia lacked.

Octavia lifted her gaze to her, purple with round pupils meeting jade with equally round; she was enjoying this. Why else would this thing's slitted eyes be so curious now?

Despite that, she never tore her eyes away. If this thing was going to try killing her, she wanted it to see her hardened gaze drill into its soul, supposing it even had one.

"Ah, Miss Melody. Elegant, beloved cellist of the capital, friend to aspiring dreamers . . . except when they're better than you, and when they stand between you and another step up the 'essential' social ladder."

"You're m-making a dangerous mistake," Octavia spat. "What you're doing . . . you'll burn for it. Everything you are, everything you love and own and dream for--it all goes down the pipes with but a word from me! I'll see you burn--ah!"

Octavia grabbed her fetlock, spotting a deep red sear amongst grey hair. The mare's horn jade glow ebbed, a small grin barely visible in the moonlight.

"You think I care about something so trivial? Well, I don't. You can't hurt me." She reared up to her hind legs, pupils thinning to paper. Her intent may have been to smash the cellist's head in, but she overlooked that her stomach was wide open for an attack.

Octavia rolled towards her and bent her hind legs back, kicking them right below the ribcage. The mare doubled over, hacking out a glob of blood as she hit her head on the ground.

The cellist didn't stay to watch. Charging back into a gallop, her assailant was left behind to the distance.

Now getting to see her surroundings, Octavia found the Altrotta just ahead, its street lamp a candle in the shadow. The theatre was just a short way from the shopping district--from her flat. It had been a long run; had it not been for that cursed mare, she could have taken the short path and been home by now.

Fast as she ran, she was not trained for athleticism. Her legs quickly wore out, her muscles burnt for want of rest. Her breaths wheezed in futility and despair, the cold air burning at her nostrils and throat. The adrenaline that'd been a comforting solace now ebbed away and was taken over by spikes jolting through every bone.

Coming to the corner of the Altrotta, she skidded at the sharp turn, ribs slamming into the pavement. She let out a sharp cry, only letting herself rest when she picked herself slowly back up before darting off again.

She kept her eyes constantly flitting on each building before moving to the next. She cursed herself thrice-fold for making the facade of her flat the same grey as her own coat. Now the moonlight was her only friend to guide her home.

Breaking into the main square of the shopping district, Octavia spotted her two-story flat, its glimmers bouncing off the windows. Thank Alicorns. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. The tightness in her chest melted into sweet mush and prickled a gentle warmth down her spine. Blinking off her tears, she practically slammed into the door and dug for her key in the cello case.

Although the moon was a friend, time was not an ally.

The mare barreled into her, slamming both her and her own head into the wooden door. Her cello case went flying in the chaos and popped open, revealing the oak instrument and its bow. "Mmph! Get away from me!" she shrieked. The mare only cackled as she groped at her.

Ramming her knee into her head, Octavia crawled away, towards the case. She wrapped both hooves around it, forcing herself not to think about it, and poured all her strength into the swing.

Crackkk!

Octavia fell back from the momentum. Her head smarted into the pavement and blood seeped into her mouth. She steadily helped herself up to see her triumph.

She gasped. N-no . . . how . . . ?

The cello had made contact with the mare's head and shattered into a thousand pieces--that she'd seen before falling. But aside from some stray chippings stuck to her face, and a thin trail of blood seeping from her muzzle, she was unscathed. Only on closer look did she realize that she'd conjured a small shield, which shrank into nonexistence, its purpose done.

But around her, every chunk, string, and splinter of her beloved cello laid on the pavement.

The mare wheezed a deep breath. "Welp. For somepony so eager to take action over submitting to others, you sure like to flee." She slammed her hoof into her neck, then pinned her there with the other. "But at least you weren't boring or as pathetic as I thought. But now . . ." Looking about, she spied the pieces underneath her.

Her horn lit up, and every piece floated before her eyes. Then, like a black hole, they all sucked in together and began constructing . . . something.

Out of her cello! "What are you--" Octavia tried to protest, but her neck was constricted further. That was her cello she was defiling! She had no right to tinker with it, no right to tamper with its former perfection!

Her anger aside, there was a fascination that she couldn't hide. Even the tiniest splinter danced midair before melding with another; some even changed their shape to become whatever twisted device the mare was making. One particularly large chunk morphed into a curved, triangular slab, and the strings all twirled into whiskers at the cross below it.

It wasn't until the slab had a sharp edge ground into it that she realized it was a dagger! "You made my cello into a dagger!" she screeched again, this time trying to break out of her grip. No avail, however.

Once the mare switched her grip on Octavia's neck to her aura, she eyed her new weapon. "There, now. Isn't that a wonderful improvement?"

Octavia spat, opposing the mare who defiled the instrument she'd owned since the start of her career. But still her eyes drew to it, curiosity that obeyed its thirst without her consent.

Despite all the splinters, the blade's surface looked impossibly smooth, and the curve looked like that of a manticore's canine tooth. The aforementioned strings were fused on either side of a thin handle, and some kind of rune was burned into the pommel, glowing that haunting green that she grew to hate.

After stroking the blade's edge a few times like a new pet, she shifted her eyes from the sharp tip to Octavia. "Now then, a proper test for this blade . . ."

Cold, heavy silence burdened Octavia's mind. The mare's reach slowed to a sluggish pace as the blade hovered over her.

"N-no, please . . . I--" Her breath clawed in her lungs as she desperately pawed for her cello case. The bits! She still had her payment from Glider! The small yet bulging sack fell out, distracting the mare long enough for her to grab it. "L-listen to me. There are two--no! Three hundred bits in here alone! Enough to buy a fl-flat like mine. Just take it and let me go!"

The mare hardly blinked when Octavia pressed it into her hooves, instantly tossing the bits into the darkness.

"What are you doing! I have more! I can--"

"Don't want your bits. Especially not when you nobleponies toss it about like cheap candy anyway."

Octavia shrank back into the door, hind leg inching for the case. "B-but . . . my influence! My influence can launch whatever career you're after. Just look at Vinyl! She . . . she's accepted here solely because I'm associated with her!" She swallowed, too late to catch her mistake, and shot for the case.

"Solely because of that influence of yours?" the mare challenged, before weaving around the cellist and kicking her case--and only key to safety--away. "Oh, what a painful loss for your friend, then. She'll surely miss your precious influence."

Octavia scuffled back, falling into the door. "Ah! Wait, I mean that as a good thing, for you! My influence can--"

The mare clicked her tongue, her expression sardonic. "You just don't get it, Miss Melody. Stop living in your delusion. Renown. Influence. Reputation. Whatever you prefer to call it, you can stuff it. Because I. Don't. Care. Why should I, when in this world, no good deed goes unpunished? I've spent my life playing Good Girl, always seeing for myself that was exactly the case."

She sighed, her voice somber. "So why even try to be the good girl, when all you're doing is digging a deeper grave for yourself? That is why, with nothing left to lose, I made myself the nightmare that everypony thinks I am. Just for you." The blade hovered above her head like a scorpion's tail ready to strike.

Octavia's heartbeat pulsed numbly. She slammed her hooves into the door to break it down. But her strength proved futile, as her energy ebbed away, and she sank onto the steps. "Please . . . Don't do . . . this . . . You can have anything you want . . . I'll even forget you came . . ."

The mare paused, blade hovering above her head. "Really?" she sniffed. "Anything I've ever wanted, Miss Melody?"

Octavia exhaled. Whatever the price, she was willing to pay it. "Y-yes, of course! You'll have it, I swear!"

An ever-shifting kaleidoscope of expressions passed over the mare's face. Her hoof thumbed at her lip in thought with each passing emotion. But she suddenly retreated a few steps and mumbled something under her breath, anger contorting her expression.

If not for her predicament, Octavia would have found herself pitying the soul.

Then the mare blinked, as though just waking from a dream. Her blade daintily twirled in her aura before it sank into the edge of her jawline.

White hellfire was all that Octavia felt. It lanced up from the incision, through her entire skull. Her drawn-out cry, although genuine, was made in the pale hopes that the guards, passersby, anybody, would come to help.

Hues of purple, grey, and jade all rippled together in a distorted palette behind her tearful eyes. Her breaths heavy in her chest, she couldn't draw out another plead for life. A gasp escaped her lips as the blade next traced the skin under her eyes.

"What I really want, more than anything, Miss Melody?" the mare asked. Hiding a foxy smile, she inched close, so close to feel the heat of her breath in her ear.

Octavia heard, "I want my mother back, you malignant hypocrite."

Her rushing heart, its pulses brought on by the mare and her ramblings, dropped in her chest, its beat stopping cold.

D-doctor . . . ? Octavia couldn't breathe. She wouldn't . . . she'd never do . . .

But she couldn't unsee it. The dark mane, the small build, even that curious glint that highlighted the doctor's eyes . . . it was all there. "W-w-wait . . . Wait! T-twilight, please, I--!"

The wooden blade dug into her flesh, right under her right eye, and skidded down to her open, screaming jaw that cried out for the help that would never come.

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Skip to 2:03

A slender silhouette dashed through the alley. Her thin frame made her little more than a slip of paper drifting through, and when she came out, she found herself at the entrance to the park.

Cold sweat trickled on her coat and her breaths were drawn in fleeting wisps. She looked skyward, to the moonlight that flittered through the canopy of leaves. Since the Lunar Princess' return, ponies began to cherish the beauty that she brought to her subjects; it gave them a sense of how small they really were in a daunting, large world, and by extension gave them that sense of what life and its bliss truly was.

That bliss was exactly what Nightfall felt run thick in her veins, thicker than her own blood. But not from the glow dancing on her face.

No, what caressed her face was thick, oozy, wet blood, its dying warmth kissing the corner of her lips. She ran her tongue along the corner, shuddering at the encounter of sickly, coppery flavor. Her chest rumbled with a chuckle, which burbled to a loud cackle.

It was so easy. All those fantasies of those pretenders disappearing, their dark webs of deceit perishing with them, finally a reality.

But not as Twilight Sparkle. As good of a doctor she was, she was crippled by the fact that she couldn't afford to stoop to their level, lest she ruin her name and doom the pony whom had birthed her.

Nightfall, on the other hand . . . she was no one. Nothing, in society's eyes. Therefore, nothing to lose at all.

And now? Now that Miss Melody had met with fitting comeuppance, she could hardly hold her breath in. She wanted to dance, to scream, to proclaim the destruction of the cellist who played with lies and stallions and mares alike, anything to unleash this burbling glee that threatened to break her skin.

And the best part? The cherry that cinched together this triumph? Octavia was only the beginning. Nightfall, thirsting for the demise of the wicked, knew there were more ponies out there who refused to ditch their masquerade and accept truth. And she wanted to show them all!

"Animals trapped beneath Tartarus' pits,

Need to run rampant and free!

"Predators live on the prey they outwit,

This time, the predator's me!"

Nightfall suddenly clutched her chest, her heart lurching against the veins. Fire bled through her body. She gasped as a streak of pink started to form in her mane.

Clenching her jaw, she focused her magic, driving herself back into the recesses of her mind, making the pink streak and aching pulse ebb as well. It wasn't time to go yet, wasn't time to be the doctor. This time belonged to Miss Hyde alone.

"Lust, like a raging desire,

Fills my whole soul with its curse!

"Burning with primitive fire . . .

Berserk . . . and perverse . . . !"

Horn igniting in a torrent of green, she teleported far away, so high up that she stood on one of the golden spires of Canterlot Palace. Two back hooves to stand on the tip, one pressed to her chest in wicked bliss, and one outstretched to the stars that were but a reach from being her companions.

"Tonight!

"I'll plunder Heaven blind,

Steal from Alicorns!

"Tonight, I'll take from all Equine,

Conjure all kinds of scorn!"

"And I feel I'll live on, forever!

With Discord himself by my side!

And I'll show myself that tonight, and forever,

The name to remember's the name . . .

"Nightfall Hyde!"

On the wind's breath she could hear a deep-throated chuckle, but she ignored it. Letting her body fall, her hooves skidded off the golden stone right before leaping from balcony to balcony.

"What a feeling to be so alive!

I have never seen me so alive!

"Such a feeling of evil inside!

That's the feeling of being Nightfall Hyde!

"This feeling of being alive!

There's a new me I see come alive!

" 'Tis a truth that cannot be denied!

"There's no feeling like being . . .

"Nightfall . . . Hyde . . . !"

Her bones jolted upon landing off the last balcony, the force enough to break bones. But what did she care? Her magic protected her anyway. It was the reason she had survived this long.

And now that Miss Melody was gone, she'd live forever. There was nothing in Heaven or Hell's forces, in Doctor Sparkle's efforts nor Miss Hyde's will, that would come to hurt her.

She was free.

End of Act I

Author's Note:

I'm going to need to add the gore tag soon, aren't I . . .?

Comments

[Alex Prior]

I'm going to need to add the gore tag soon, aren't I . . .?

Yes. Yes you are.

[Dragon Spire]

7526721 Definitely going to now, especially with what I have planned in Act II . . .

[Nikolas]

Awesome

[TheFaceofMercy]

Beautiful
That's it. I'm speechless

[The Warmaster]

BEAUTIFUL! SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL!

The way you curve the words across the story, each and every syllable leaving me aching for more!

....that's the best fancy wording I can do.

This is still simply a beautiful story!

Nightfall Hyde is definitely a force to be reckoned with, and I look forward to her advents!