Sparkyll and Hyde

by Dragon Spire

Act II: Chapter Four

Act II: Chapter Four:
It's a Dangerous Game . . .

Thunder snarled overhead as raindrops the size of bullets pelted into the earth, spraying mud all about with loud plops. The constant noise sang with the wind's cry, its howling desperate as the calling of a banshee lost to the physical world. It was a noise that warned all passersby that nature was a force to be reckoned with, even it was merciful with the light drizzle hardly a few minutes ago. Those unfortunate not to return to their homes in that small space of time had nothing left but to face nature's dangerous beauty.

Soarin ducked under a shield of braches as shards of hail tried to poke his eyes out. They bounced harmlessly off the surrounding leaves before falling to the ground and melting in its neutral temperature. He exhaled, deciding to retreat from his nest and return to the ground.

As he stepped carefully through the moisture, mud sticking to his fetlocks, he looked around for anyone else hiding in the park. He could only hope that kid got home okay, or better yet before the storm kicked in full force. Even though he was choosing to be here, no one deserved to be caught in one so fierce.

After scouting further for a few more minutes, he decided that he really was alone, leaning forward for a clear view of the clouds. Anyone smarter than him would turn back at once, rather than face the storm to relieve days of glory in daredevil stunts.

Somewhere behind that blanket of grey was Cloudsdale and, by extension, the Wonderbolt Academy and Headquarters. He fixed his eyes on the spot he was most certain it was hiding and training new initiates; directly northwest of Canterlot's spires.

He couldn't help a grimace as rain dripped down his muzzle. Did Spitfire know about the trouble Equestria's capital was in, and that her former friend was barrel-deep in it, too? Scratch that - news of the Canterlot Murderer had reached some of the outside cities within a fifty-mile radius by now, including Cloudsdale. The real question was, did she even care?

If he'd heard right when stumbling on her and Fleetfoot talking about their replacing him with Lightning Dust, he recalled that Spitfire regretted lying to him. That if there was way out without betraying him, she would have taken it.

Which implied that there was still a sliver of amity left in her heart.

Yet she knew that Glider hired him for the Altrotta, which she also knew was in Canterlot. And she disregarded the coincidence of her showing up right when he had to resign as a chance to 'start over'.

So why hadn't he heard anything from her? Even a letter asking if he wasn't dead yet would have been nice.

He hated the feeling he had right then - the pain of betrayal coming back tenfold. The first time hurt enough as it was, and Spit was already dead to him the moment he discovered her true intentions. But to feel this all over again meant that there was a part of him that still trusted her. How could it be possible to feel trust for the person who took your life to give to someone else?

Blood seeped off his chin. In realizing his jaw was clenched to tight that he'd bitten his tongue, he forcing himself to relax. Closed his eyes and listened to the rolling thunder. Memories of standing outside of the Academy and watching lightning split the sky in two replayed in his head. Every time training got so hard that he couldn't stand, or the other trainees got on his case one time too many, all he had to do was go outside and watch.

Spitfire joined him sometimes. Told him stories of her fillyhood when things were rough on her end. Then they'd fetch blankets and whisper sweet nothings before the rain lulled them both to sleep.

He shook his head disdainfully. That was before they moved up to captain and lieutenant, and their work dictated that they take on a certain persona, treat their fans a certain way, and fall from glory in a certain failure. For him, all three shifted to him being the star example of 'love them and leave them'.

"Soarin."

The voice, spoken as though the owner was tipping between irritation and caution, made him jump. The rain had lightened considerably; he therefore blamed his daydreaming for not hearing their approach, especially since upon turning he saw that there were at least dozen ponies.

Most of them were the background musicians from the Altrotta, complete in their trademark outfits of green vests with a sewn-on emblem of a flying pegasus, its wings stretching over the boundaries. It was safe to say that these clashed poorly with most of their color palettes.

Topping the group like twin spires of a mountain were Dust Devil and Night Glider, the latter of whom he was certain the voice came from, given her rigid posture and dark expression.

"So this is where you ran off to?" said Night. Again, her voice was strained in the sense she was trying to keep her patience in check. "Dust told me you 'had to get out', but I didn't want to consider she was right."

Beside her, Dusty found herself more interested in the fallen leaves, her eyes shrunken to little pink dots. There were deep crevices on her face, as though she had been forcing a smile all hours of the day to keep everyone's spirits up, even if it only yielded the expected outcome in a hostile environment.

Wind howled behind Soarin's ears, muting his response. "I needed some time alone. Get myself together and gather my thoughts. I'm sure you get that."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure. And while you're at it, leave us with Mewling Nightmare. Because that makes a ton of sense."

"You think I don't care, Night? Silv' was my friend, too. She cared about all of us, not just Glider. And Glider . . ." he sucked in a sharp breath ". . . well, she returned that care equally. You have to realize, she's taking this much harder than any of us ever could."

He shivered at the memory of her scream, reflecting off the walls of the Altrotta when she found Silver's body not even a whole day ago. Just when Glider opened her theatre for those who couldn't make it home past curfew, one quick swipe told that not even that place of refuge was safe anymore.

No one, not even the performers who were right by the front entryway, heard whisper nor hoofstep from the Canterlot Murderer as she snuck into Silver's quarters, sliced her wings off, and opened her windpipe. No one was aware she was ever there, until Glider had burst through the front doors with a crazed look in her eyes and blood matting her coat.

Night dragged a hoof through strewn leaves before continuing, "That gives her no excuse to act like a child. Had she stayed out of the Guard's matters, none of this would have happened. The killer would have been dealt with by now if not for her."

"The princesses can't even find her," Dusty spoke up for the first time. "What makes you think the Royal Guard could?"

She gasped as Night spun towards her. "Are you serious? Dust, any professional help is better than one idiot who doesn't even know what she's doing! You saw the scars; the only reason Glider's still alive is because she rightfully fled."

Dusty backed away, gulping as Night followed. She looked to the others, but none of them moved.

Soarin watched the exchange carefully. He kept it to himself, but he had his own regards to Glider's attempt at the killer; she did try a direct attack, something which the Guard was too scared to do, albeit ending in futility, and a house arrest order by the captain until 'further notice'.

It seemed the only reason she wasn't given an official imprisonment was that she did end up getting a good look at her face, and she awaited an evaluation for the next day.

Gathering her thoughts in a deep breath, Dusty answered, "She may have acted dumb, but that shouldn't be reason to condemn her. Her heart was in the right place, and she lost her best friend because of that."

Night scoffed. "There was no right place for her. I heard her myself. She wanted to get back at the killer to get her hooves on a potion. If you honestly think that there's glory in seeking reward like she did, stop kidding yourself and wake up." Dusty opened her mouth to argue further, but she cut in, "Just stop. If you don't believe me, why don't you go ask her yourself? In fact, tell her that she'll have her potion and that everything's gonna turn out great in the end, just because she's the good guy in her story."

Soarin sighed, seeing her drop her gaze in defeat, and Night let a small, smug grin edge her face. Everyone present knew why Dusty couldn't do as asked, because Glider ended up screaming at anyone who ignored the 'do not disturb' sign.

" . . . you don't have to be so cruel," Dusty whispered.

"I'm not being cruel. I'm accepting the circumstance just like the Royal Guard is, and just like you should be." She jabbed a hoof at Dusty. Her already-small eyes narrowed, her expression frightening to Soarin.

She barely spoke above her previous whisper, "Funny how you put all your faith in the Guard when you couldn't help abandoning them first."

The atmosphere changed quickly, and Soarin dove in between the two mares before Night could charge at her. She snarled with bloody murder in her eyes, forcing him to throw her back. "Hey, hey! Leave her alone, Night!" The rest of the troupe began chanting with the thunder for her for blood to be spilt, but he ignored them. Shoving her back once more, he spun and launched a small back kick at her that would only knock her down.

Night grunted, kneeling in mud as he grabbed her, dragging her away from the thick of the action.

They walked - or crawled, since Night resisted so much, screaming obscenities at Dusty - for about a hundred yards, into the thickest part of the park, before he let her go. At once she slammed a fetlock into his gut. "I don't need you butting in like that!" she snapped, tucking her wings.

"I - cack - kinda have to when - cack -" he coughed "- when you're trying to pick a fight, as usual."

She responded with glaring down the blades of grass that hadn't died from the coming winter.

"Come on, don't treat me like the bad guy," he said carefully, as she was easily a loose cannon when ticked off like she was. "What happened back there?"

Night huffed, but as the rain continued to slide down her face, she muttered, "Just been thinking about my family lately. You know my dad's a commanding officer, and my mom's his lieutenant, and my sis is Fle -" she waved that one off. "Y'know, all related to branches of the guard."

"You said they were . . . unsupportive of your talent in show business?"

"I hated that they didn't listen to me. But now," she looked to the sky, "Damn it, I see them everywhere. Just . . . everypony turning against each other now reminds me too much of what I went through at home."

Soarin nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. It was raw instinct that if put into a hostile environment with no way out, no help coming, and the cards constantly stacked unfairly against the inhabitants, everyone turning hostile towards one another was going to happen sooner or later. It was the Canterlot Murderer's game; bring pain and disharmony onto the ponies of Canterlot just for her amusement. And what better way to cause pain than to prick fear and let them slowly drive themselves mad until they were at each other's throats?

"It's gonna be okay, Night. We just gotta stay sane until this blows over."

"It's never going to blow over, Soarin!" she snapped. "That . . . monster is never going to stop. We're her playthings to her. Just pieces on a board that she can knock off at any moment!"

He drew back. He realized then that the killer's little game was working; he could see Night cracking right before his eyes, her faith in the Guard saving them already lost.

"She . . . she's just like Discord. Worse." She wheezed deep breaths, hyperventilating. "And what if we get past this? Even if the killer dies tonight, that memory stays with all of us for the rest of our lives! We'll never stop looking out our windows, skimming the streets, feeling like there are eyes on our shoulders right before they kill us . . ."

What could he even say now? As she wept before him, he knew there was no escape. The only way out of Canterlot, the train station, was blocked off for use by 'public officials' only; the stories of those who tried to bargain, plead, even fight their way past the guards filled the newspapers like cancer.

He reached out for her in an attempt to comfort. "We're going to survive, Night. We going to be okay. We have to be." He was unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"How can you even know? You don't know anything!"

"Night -"

"Leave me the hell alone."

Soarin dropped his hoof, the breeze tangling his mane as the soft plop of her hooves left him.

He felt tempted to go after her, yet he felt himself go the opposite direction. There was just no reasoning with her - with anyone that let themselves get consumed by their fear. Like he did.

He wasn't even aware of where he was going. Singing wind shifted his path, luring the leaves off their branches as they swirled around him. Some were pelted down while others got stuck in his mane, which he brushed out with a swipe of his hoof. He just wanted to get away from those he couldn't help, away from the reminder that he'd unintentionally broke another mare's heart.

Ever since his incident with Doctor Sparkle, he tried to be better about his morality, but Fate seemed to have other ideas. While claiming to understand her rejection, he felt like he was dying inside. He knew what 'just being friends' meant for someone like him. In Canterlot, even being seen with his kind meant the ruin of one's reputation.

And try as he might, there was no escape from his past. Doctor Sparkle knew that perfectly well, and tried to explain it as her protecting her mother's well-being.

He didn't want to believe that she was just like the other nobleponies, but when she revealed that to be the case, he knew she deserved better. Someone like her deserved . . . a prince. Stainless and noble.

Coming to the end of the park, where grass changed to hard pavement, he looked up to the empty city. The wind that blew harsher into his face seemed to enforce the absence of life across the city. Everyone was huddled in their homes, begging the Alicorns to save them, yet it may as well have been that Soarin was the only one left alive.

There was nothing to be found here, and his thought process made him dread being alone. He moved to return to the thick of the trees.

. . . when something caught his eye.

He stumbled right into the arms of a low hanging branch, smarting the bridge of his muzzle. Barely seen out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he saw a purple palette, but as he swallowed tightly and turned, what he saw was entirely different.

Leaned into the building closest to him, less than ten feet away, his visitor had her stilt-like legs crisscrossed over one another in a relaxed posture. Very few had a lanky frame like Glider's, hinting to Soarin that she had finally left her room and stalked him here. Yet in a state of dreaded familiarity, he recalled one other pony who had a slender figure.

As soon as he stepped back, an airy chuckle danced on the wind, pricking his ears. Not once did that laugh sound natural. While he got the same anxiety for it as hearing swords scrape painfully against one another, it, too, lured a sense of calm. Like his own brain was being hypocritical of what to think.

Before he knew it, she had approached. The hood of her black cloak was up, so her gemstone eyes were the only things visible there. The slits thinned and widened in heartbeat patterns, flitted left and right; it made him think of wandering wraith, looking for family long dead.

Fixing on Soarin, they blinked slowly as she pulled her hood back slightly, just revealing her muzzle and tip of her horn. A thousand needles stabbed his spine, and a raw tremble coursed his bones. She held herself strong, as though daring anyone to think less of her; even the breath she took sounded like a bold aria crafted to keep outsiders in their place, and those whom she invited drawn in.

She was beautiful, even if in the same sense of calling a Bengal tiger about to pounce beautiful.

"Soarin," she rasped, feinting hurt, "Are you that surprised to see me?" She closed the remaining distance and raised a grey fetlock to smooth his wing.

Soarin suppressed a second shiver. By no account was the wind the cause of it. "Um . . . n-no, just thought you were somepony else, Night . . . fall."

She chuckled. "You could say it almost was a moment ago." She waved her hoof dismissively before Soarin could ask what she meant. Instead, she faced herself to the park and waited. Soarin saw her ear flick impatiently under her hood.

She wanted him to follow.

To follow or to run? Nightfall was waiting for an answer, and he knew that only one choice would further the inevitable. He was very fast - even if he'd stopped training for a solid month he could outfly most pegasi - but he read the news. Say what you would about exaggeration, but no one would lie about something so critical as a killer having the ability to summon tendrils with but a thought.

A smile was clear in her voice as Soarin obeyed, walking alongside her. "Wise. You wouldn't have made it past the shopping district." She resumed her pace.

"What is it that you want from me?" In hindsight, talking back to a murderer who was infatuated with him wasn't the best idea. But in the sense that he was once the Wonderbolt renowned for daring roaring storm clouds to try and take him down, he felt his chances were good enough to risk it.

Nightfall's stride didn't falter once. Leaves crunched under her hooves in quiet crinkles as she waited a tense five heartbeats before answering, "Why can't someone like me stop by to say hello every once in a while?"

"Because the last time we said hello, you tried to cut my shoulder blade out," he gritted his teeth.

"You were living a lie. You were becoming just like those masqueraders, right before I put them in their place."

"I didn't want to draw needless attention to myself. It's bad enough that being an ex-Wonderbolt has enough of that as it is."

She suddenly spun around, her horn exploding in green, an aura wrapping around his body. She said softly, "You should be a little more grateful. I don't see anypony pointing hooves, laughing at you now. They all are in their homes, away from us."

Soarin exhaled past the magic squeezing his throat, "And whose fault is that for happening?"

Her eye twitched slightly. Yet a smile cracked across her face. "At least you listened to me." She let him go and pressed her nonexistent weight against a tree trunk.

As Soarin was knelt in the earth to recuperate, the energy of her aura vibrated the surface of his coat. He realize, he had stopped trying to paint fake cutie marks via Dusty's makeup kits, ever since he and Nightfall had first met. Although he wanted to tell himself that it was out of want to be more honest, it was half-flanked in that ultimate hypocrisy.

He was lying to himself even then, because the true reason was that he feared Nightfall Hyde. The night they met, he'd made the mistake of wearing that fake cutie mark, and Nightfall knew at once its duplicity. She reacted with giving him the gash that sent him to Doctor Sparkle, and the fear that made him never again want to paint a lightning bolt with wind crests on his flank.

"If I may, Soarin," he heard Nightfall say as he pulled himself up, "I'll admit I didn't come simply for pleasantries." She raised a hoof before her face, swiveling it slowly in its socket as eyes were glazed in a daydream. "A little problem has come up, and I may just disappear for a little while."

Soarin blinked. Where could she possibly disappear to? She'd foolishly trapped herself in by scaring everyone into initiating the lockdown. But if she was going away, at last . . .

Seeming to sense his thoughts, she added, "But don't think you can escape that easily. Even if I don't come back, you'll find me again. You'll come right back to me, just as always when being obeying morality gets too . . . difficult." She met his eyes as a haunting echo of her voice penetrated his mind.

W h y e l s e h a v e y o u n o t r a t t e d m e o u t y e t ?

Cold sweat seeped from Soarin's forehead. Why hadn't he? He damn well knew Nightfall Hyde's little secret; he somehow knew deep inside even before she became a murderer. He just had that feeling when they crossed paths, and all he felt in her presence was a cold aura brimming with bloodlust.

At any point he could have reported her to the princesses and have this terror ended once and for all. At any point he could have redeemed lives that were now and forever lost. He could have again felt the air of being a hero in the eyes of many, just like once upon a time as a Wonderbolt.

But it was too late for that future. He'd already damned himself the moment he and Nightfall met.

There was no escape. Nightfall was deadly, unrelenting in her passion to kill. Running would only give her a reason to sate it with him that much sooner.

And his life was the only thing left to be taken away. Too long had society stolen from him - his reputation, his career, even the friends he thought he could trust - and claimed him to be unredeemable because of his past; it worked so well that it even convinced Sparkle of that.

Yet Nightfall, in being the only one who someone like Soarin could ever deserve, could give him what he'd craved for, what no one else could; acceptance.

The mares that passed by, broken heart after broken heart, all lacked this. Most were too shallow to look past his fame and see an everyday pegasus, and an even greater number tried to use his name to their advantage. They lacked the understanding that he was just like them, and certainly not a hero. Far from it.

But Nightfall understood. She understood perfectly what it meant to be spat out by society and left to one's own desires, so long as they didn't interfere with the upper class. She knew his struggle against indescribable thirst, having given in to that passion herself.

Hyde was a monster, an immoral creature built up by Equine's insanity. But her silver tongue spoke truth, forcing masks to fall and ponies to see themselves stripped of their façades. And Soarin wanted nothing less than to be true to himself.

Link

"I've been fooled before;

True friends with cruel masks

Tricked by pity, abandoned by their pride . . .

Yet I see your eyes . . . deadly, they pierce my soul,

Revealing secrets . . . I've tried to keep inside . . . "

Nightfall moved away from the trunk. Her steps taken slowly, her maw opened as an intangible voice haunted over their surroundings. Shifting carefully, Soarin watched her approach and continued to sing.

"With but a single touch,

With but a single word,

In the moment your eyes meet mine

I realize I'm lost,

Ensnared in your embrace

Full of feelings I can't define!"

She closed the distance between them and coiled her hooves around his. Leaning in close in a rasp, he could feel the tips of her teeth graze his ear.

"It's a sin with no name -"

"Like a bite by the flame -"

"And the senses, they claim . . ."

"It's a dangerous game!"

The voices hushed, their master releasing Soarin as she trailed around him. Soarin followed with his eyes as hers drank in his image. She cracked a smile, a glittering black ribbon thick as blood revolving her.

"My darkest dreams,

I fought against them

But play with Fate . . .

And your nightmares come true!

"Too late to stop . . .

Our descent into Discord's dance!

The frightened hero . . .

Doesn't know what to do!

"Will Discord leave her be?

Will she finally see -

In my will, there's no way to win!"

Soarin pulled her back in, the shadow spinning furiously around them both. He threw his hooves at her mane, caressing it. Nightfall suddenly blinked, tears dripping down her face, and he equally cried with her.

"There's a line I have crossed

No escape from the cost

No forgiveness to cleanse my sin!

I don't know who's to blame -"

"It's a crime and a shame!"

"But it's true all the same -"

"It's a dangerous game!"

Nightfall grit her teeth, her tears burning into mist quickly swallowed by the shadows. Her expression darkened to so strong an intensity that her eyes glowed, the snake-like slits sucking Soarin in.

"No one speaks,

Not one word . . .

But what words are in our eyes?

"Silence speaks -"

"Silence speaks . . ."

"Loud and clear -"

"Loud and clear!"

"All the words we don't want to hear!"

He flared out his wings and seized Nightfall, tightly enveloping her as her body shook violently. Wind, rain, and shadow flew around them, trapping them both.

"In but a single touch,

In but a single word,

In the moment your eyes meet mine!

"I am losing my mind

I am losing control

Fighting feelings I can't define!"

"It's a sin with no name -"

"No remorse and no shame,

Fire, fury and flame!"

"Cause it's Discord at blame!"

"And Alicorns proclaim . . .!"

They broke apart, the shadow dissipating into black mist that evaporated. Soarin, his chest heavy with his breath, folded his wings. He felt his heart pulse tepidly, as though held in a dragon's squeezed fist. He met her eyes, seeing that Nightfall's eyes were glazed over - they flared a deep color that poked at his subconscious.

Something . . . something was trying . . . to be remembered . . .?

But she then blinked, the thought snuffed out with the forgotten hue. He opened his hooves to her, drew her in and their distance closed as emerald met jade.

"It's a dangerous . . . game . . ."

She pressed her muzzle to his. Her kiss was vicious in gnawing his lip with spiky incisors that felt like knives to his soul. Resistance meant nothing to him; he pushed himself into her kiss and equally bit, his wings again enveloping her from the outside world.

In the back of his mind, he could swear he heard screaming, crying for salvation, but he shut it out. There was no salvation; he and Nightfall were already damned. The only scream left was one for passion, for the death of what morality remained in himself and in Nightfall Hyde.

Gasping for air, he broke off the kiss, folding his right wing while the left remained draped over his love. Nightfall let a smile crack over her face, allowing him to lead her away.

Another bout of hard rain came down on them. Using his wing as a shield over her, he took her out of the park, into the main part of the city. He sensed prying eyes hovering on them, but it didn't matter anymore what they saw. He and Miss Hyde had taken that last step, and it was too late to escape damnation from their point of no return.

Comments

[HylianTabby]

This chapter feels a bit shorter than the others.

[The Warmaster]

Well...that was truly a beautiful little chapter. I simply cannot wait for the next one! Ah, poor Soarin, lost in the night, gifting himself the only one who truly understood his pain. What a romantic, to willingly accept his passions towards the one who has murdered countless Nobles who didn't deserve the meals they were given on a day by day basis.

[Joybelle]

Enjoyed this chapter a lot.

[Nikolas]

Yet the monsters needs love

[Dragon Spire]

7775897 I don't have much of an excuse for it being shorter than I just didn't have as much to say in this one. Soarin has to face his inner turmoil, not that Nightfall makes his conflict any easier, and his friends are reaching their breaking point with terror meeting them at every corner.
7776177 Just as 'Good 'n Evil' sums it up, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
7777504 Exactly. Soarin wants love that's fully his, and Nightfall's core goal is to live without the threat of the dear doctor hanging over her head.
7777438 Thank you very much, and glad you like what I have to offer.

[The Warmaster]

Waiting for update, but I am very patient when it comes to epic stories.

I sorta feel like this song is appropriate for the story so far...

Keep up the great work, and I eagerly await the next chapter!

[Dragon Spire]

7935617 Apologies for the delay. I've been hitting a slump with lack of inspiration and getting pulled into the Undertale craze. But I'm going to take it upon myself to push for a new chapter soon. My hope is to be done with Act II by mid-March. (There are three chapters left in it)

And thank you so much for your patience and support. (And the follow ) I will do my best to follow through with my promise.