My last shadow

by The Psychopath

She is not mine

The years seemed to pass by rather painfully. The doctors were sworn to secrecy as part of the mare's last wishes. They would still tell of the foal were she to exhibit signs of 'him'. It still baffled them why 'he' would become a mare during rebirth. It shocked them even more that he would use his twisted magic to revive whatever foul poison served as a soul.

No matter how much he tried, Nutmeg could not bring himself to feel true, fatherly love for this...thing. He only took care of it as much as his mind would let him, but every time he wanted to kill it, he could see that smile of his dying wife with the foal in her forelegs, and he would often cry himself to sleep at nights. As time went on, the filly grew with it. She didn't exhibit any signs of powers that would be, and nothing around said that it would happen any time soon. Why, she didn't even seem to be a tyrant, either. In fact, she seemed mostly compassionate despite her shortcomings.

"I cannot continue to tutor her under such conditions!" a stallion roared.

The young filly was being tutored within her own home by an elderly stallion of a gray complexion. The living room that was once home to a table, a chair, some wooden furniture, and an intricately designed carpet underneath it all, was now the home of a rambunctious mess tearing away at everything precious to the eyes.

"You can't leave! Who else will teach her? You are the only one who has accepted, especially on the terms that I had given."

The gray stallion readjusted his glasses to see the lens comically hop out and break upon the floor, much to his fury.

"I...I can pay for those."

"No need." the stallion gestured. "I cannot continue to work under these conditions. She might have been calm and collected when she was younger, but her lack of social interaction has seen her energy remain clustered within her tiny body. If this keeps up--"

"I know! But I can't let her out."

"As much as it pains me to say this, I'm afraid that she might be gaining her magic."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just look at her."

The living room's table had been broken into several pieces, the carpet was bent and twisted, and there was vanilla cream splattered everywhere. To Nutmeg's horror, there was a batch of vanilla floating in the air in front of the filly, much to her amusement. The stallion's hyperventilation was coming back, but he noticed something peculiar. The horn of the filly was not glowing and certainly wasn't enveloping the ball of vanilla.

"What is this?" he thought to himself.

"I'm sorry, but I must alert the authorities to this...creature."

The tutor took his hat off the coat hanger next to the door and put it on his head, but he was blocked by a frantic stallion.

"You can't! They'll kill her! The final wishes of my beloved were to keep her alive and healthy."

The tutor's eyes narrowed. "It seems to me that you never have a reason other than the dying wish of some mare to justify keeping that...that thing a secret to the world."

"She wasn't just some mare! She was--"

Nutmeg's raising voice was interrupted by a hoof lifted in front of him.

"I am sorry, but that is all the proof I needed. She cannot be left to live with being known of what she is."

"You gave your WORD as a tutor that you would not tell," Nutmeg glared.

"Yes. As a professional tutor, I must keep to my word. However, I never said anything about my off-duty status. Good day."

The door slammed shut, and the strain began to bare down on Butter. He was breaking. He could feel it. The walls in his mind were beginning to crumble. He started to hear a voice talking in the living room, so the stallion peeked around the corner to see just what it is he was hearing. Stellar was talking to...someone. An imaginary friend?

"Yeah. He is funny sometimes. He does seem weird. No. I don't hate him. He's my daddy and I love him! Of course he's my daddy! Oh. Although sometimes I wish he would let me outside. I want to see what the city looks like and make some friends! What?! Friends aren't useless! That's a mean thing to say," the filly crossed her forelegs and pouted.

The stallion could feel another tear well up inside him. Was she as crazy as he was? And was it heartwarming or enraging to hear her call him 'daddy'? Granted, she said these words when the Reaper left that day, but they just carved out a void in his soul.

"What are you doing, daddy?" the young filly asked.

"I don't know. Who are you talking to?"

"He didn't give me a name, but he's a nice fellow. Tells me plenty of stuff," the filly leaned closer and put a hoof next to her mouth. "although he's a bit grumpy."

"R-really?" the stallion nervously smiled.

"Yeah!"

"Oh. Well, tell him that you need to clean up this mess. I don't know what exactly you did, but it might cause us trouble."

"But I didn't do it! It was him! He--"

"Stop! Okay? I...I have a pounding headache right now. Just clean this up."

The filly frowned and pouted, but went directly to work.

"You got me in trouble. I don't want to talk to you anymore," the filly growled.

The majority of the day was rather uneventful for the two, so not much could be said without mentioning the basics of life. Come nightfall, the filly had brushed her teeth and combed her mane before falling into a deep sleep in her bed. Moon light had filled her room and covered Stellar's bed. The window in the ceiling seemed like the eye of her mother with so much light. It was closely watching the tiny, dark blue covers for any movement on behalf of the filly.

Meanwhile, in his room, the stallion sat on his large bed and its thick flowery covers. He had no light. The two windows leading light into his room were blocked by shutters. His closet kept a mirror that reflected his miserable and conflicted self in it. The only light came from a flickering candle on a nightstand to the stallion's right.

Nutmeg was staring at the floor in horror. He didn't know what to think anymore. If he had a nudge, then maybe, just maybe. Maybe he might do it...

"What are you waiting for?" a voice whispered.

"What do you mean?" Butter answered without thinking.

"The evil king reincarnate within your child lay within your true child's body and bed. Why do you remain her and let it live? Surely, it would be a boon to all if you were to...eliminate it before its discovery."

The shadows around the room began to twist and contort around the stallion's own darkened self on the wall while the two voices spoke.

"I can't do that! She's all I have left of my beloved. And it was her final wish that I watch over her."

The voice chuckled. "Certainly, you don't think that she was serious. Did it not go through your mind that, perhaps, she was under the control of some creature? There were many shadows in that operation room."

"Yes, but--"

"And did you not see its appearance? Surely, it is the fallen king himself."

"Maybe you're...No! No! I won't have you tainting me! I don't understand what my beloved said when she was about to die."

"Yes. That sentence that she tried to say that 'Death' completed for her. It has no true meaning."

"Of course it does! She wouldn't say that for no reason."

The shadows formed into a strange, twisting being with long arms, claws, and an almost demonic face on the wall. It had a horn that twisted and pointed to the back of its head, while its teeth were random in position, direction, and length. They did have one common trait: they were extremely sharp. As for the eye, it was hollow, letting the light define the head around it. The two dimensional face was smiling as mischievously as it could, slowly letting its arms bare down upon the father's shadow-shoulders and massaging them. Somehow, Nutmeg could feel the massaging, but still didn't react. His eyes had become green and a strange waving, purple energy was starting to wiggle out of them.

"You mistake your mare for a 'god'. Her words are not absolute, and you misinterpret her sayings. Why, you know quite well that you would have gone into several arguments together had she remained healthy and lively. Then what?"

"I..."

"You know I'm right. You need not deny it, and if that filly lives, you and the rest of your family will be tarnished forever. Worse still, you harbored a known tyrant and criminal of the new crown and the kingdom! You have to kill it now!"

"I...have to kill it now. Okay."

"There's a good pony,"

The shadow smiled, laying its teeth bare and turning its eyes into a crescent-moon facing downwards.

Nutmeg went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife in his right hoof. He started to cry tremendously as he walked towards the filly laying innocently in her bed. Slowly, he walked towards her room, intent on finishing the job. Finally, he would be free of the torment she created upon him these seven years!

"Shadowrette! Wake up! Wake up!" the shadows around the filly pleaded.

They were twisting and turning like the liquid in a lava lamp. The young foal yawned and wiped her eyes in fatigue. Her vision was still blurry and she smacked her lips several times.

"What? What is it?" she asked.

Her vision unblurred to see her father holding a knife right above her. Immediately, the filly, dove out of the way of the strike, letting fluff come out instead of her own fur. The tiny foal stumbled onto her rear and began to back away from the horror she was witnessing. Her father was in complete shambles and was crying something fierce. Worse, still. There were weird purple flames coming from his eyes, but the filly didn't know what this meant.

"Get out of here!" the shadows shouted.

"D-daddy? Wh-what are you doing?"

"Stop it! I'm not your daddy! I never was! You stole my life. You stole my child. You killed my wife when she birthed you! You're the evil tyrant come back!" he roared. "But, if I kill you here, no pony will know. They would have done that anyways. They would have done that anyways. Yes. Now stop moving!" he roared once more.

His strikes were clumsy and imprecise and simply couldn't hit the filly who started running out of her room with a crazed stallion coming after her. The shadows were following the filly along the wall while the grinning one stayed behind the stallion to watch the scene unfold. The tiny pony tried her best to outrun her crazed father, but he was bigger than her and had longer legs. Furniture along the hallway was strangely falling down and impeding the stallion. Tables were falling and vases were flying whenever the filly passed them. Hanging onto one the pillars of the hoofrail, the filly tried to land perfectly on the stairs and get down as fast as she could, but she misstepped. She tumbled down the stairs and was met with a muffled landing, but her right foreleg was twisted the wrong way. She cried as the pain began to course through her body, but the shadows wrapped themselves around it and stopped the pain.

"You're almost to the door! Hurry! Once out, you will be free!" they told Shadowrette.

"You can't run through the door!" Nutmeg shouted from the second floor as he watched the filly limp towards it. "I've locked it for the night!"

"Keep going. You'll see!"

The little filly thought that somepony was going to come bursting through the door and save her, like the stories her father read to her. She started to feel hope grow within her, but no matter how close she got to the door, nopony came.

"I'll finally get vengeance back for what you did to my beloved!" Butter cried.

The little filly began to wince and cry in panic as he got closer to her. The doors still weren't opening. No. She saw hundreds of shadows race along the walls towards the door, where they converged. Suddenly, the wooden contraption blasted open, shelling the cobbled streets outside of wood splinters. The foal hurried as fast as she could while the shadows impeded the movement of the stallion. By the time he got out of the house. It was too late. She was crying as loud as her little lungs let her and too far away to reach without arousing suspicion.

Her father attacked her for no reason and blamed her for the death of her mother. Now, she had no home, no family, and her leg was broken. She wanted to leave the house, but she didn't want it to be like this. She was all alone.

Nutmeg threw his knife at the filly, but by logic, it wouldn't even have gotten near her. He began to pant and then cry at what he had done or, rather, failed to do. His sobs were interrupted by a black and purple mist flowing across like stream water and covering his legs. His eyes widened and he immediately tensed up.

"Tisk tisk, Mister Buttermeg. I told you to keep to your promise," the voice spoke in disappointment.

"I failed. I couldn't save anypony and now that...thing is loose."

A sickle slowly raised itself as the other voice spoke. "Now now. I told you...that I did not...condone...broken promises."

"I know."

"Then you know what awaits you. Come along, now. It will be a short...trip."

The scythe swung down.

Comments

[Enduring Cosmos]

HAPPY LATE HANUKKAH

[The Psychopath]

5423229 Could've done that on my page...

[-Brutus]

Damn, instant death at end.

[Julian the Dreamer]

A shadow trying to kill her, and several helping her. How curious...
Oh, the stallion's gonna get it from his wife on the afterlife.

[platogkrone]

Wow. Death is a jerk.

[The Psychopath]

9872873
*gasp* A comment? After so long?