The Light of Despair

by Gordon Pasha

The Darkest Night

Hope splashed water in her face. Not that she needed it. Even in her sleep-deprived state, she had managed to wash thoroughly, an old crystal pony habit coming back to the fore. But still, she did it, if only to snap herself out of the grogginess she was feeling. She had slept well, for hours upon hours. It helped, but it did not completely ease her exhaustion. Still, she felt she could at least function now.

Sleep had been easy. She had not dreamed of anything, quite thankfully. The only thing she ever seemed to dream of lately was Sombra. And Radiant Hope was not certain whether it was worse to dream of the happy life they had together, and then wake up to be disappointed by reality, or to dream of what he had become and wake up reminded that she was no closer to finding out what that was.

Still, sleep must have helped. Looking at her reflection in the small mirror above the wash-basin, Hope saw that the crystalline texture and the shine had returned to her features, if still rather faintly. She had to admit that she was feeling better, relatively speaking. At least she could think with some semblance of reason again.

Hope sighed. The guilt had not gotten better, though. If anything, she felt guiltier than ever. Getting this sleep only reminded her of the sleep she had gotten last night, when a pony in the same room died of a plague she was supposed to cure.

Hope shuddered at the thought.

And she felt guilty for what happened to Fallen Fortune.

He may be difficult, but I shouldn’t have used an offensive spell on him, she though. And then for him to end up in the stocks…. I hope he isn’t too badly hurt.

Hope stopped lifting water to her face and just stared at her reflection for a moment.

“How could I keep causing so much pain?” she asked herself. “What is it going to take to fix my mistakes?”

Just then, she heard a knock at the door.

“Your Highness, have you awoken yet? Her Excellency the Mayor sent me to collect you when you had. There’s been another outbreak of plague.”

“I’m coming!” Hope called.

She rushed over and, with magic, lifted up her cloak. As she began to wrap it around herself, Hope felt it. She looked at it. She could even smell it. All this told her the same thing.

“This cloak could really use a wash,” Hope said. She let it drop to the ground. “I’ll have to see if I there’s a pony here who washes clothes. I’ve never had much luck with it.”

More knocks came at the door.

“Not to rush Your Majesty, but it’s nearly midnight,” said the pony on the other end.

Hope whipped the door open with her magic. “We better get going, then.”

---

Fallen Fortune dragged himself up the stairs of his house. When he reached the top, he trudged forward until he came to a large set of double-doors. With one spark of his magic, they opened, and he stepped into the huge room beyond.

One side of the room was devoted entirely to book-cases, all of which were filled with books large and heavy, old and dusty. At the other end of the room was a large desk and a number of shelves. Between them, they carried a massive array of beakers, vials, and every kind of instrument needed for the mixing of two substances together. And there were substances, chemicals, and mixtures of all kinds, identified only by the arcane symbols painted upon their bottles.

Pale light streamed in courtesy of the moon, clearly visible through the large window that dominated the outer wall, giving the room an eerie appearance. This was only helped by the sparseness of the room itself, which contained very little other than the bookcases and the alchemical station. There was a large chair directly opposite the books, and a dark mirror directly beside the doors.

This was Fallen Fortune’s study, where he had spent countless hours pondering the mysteries of what alchemists called the “great work.” It was also where he had spent countless hours in experiments that never seemed to lead to anything promising. But tonight, it was where Fallen Fortune planned to spend countless hours drowning his sorrows.

He levitated up one of the books from the bookcase. It opened, revealing a hollowed out midsection and a flask. Fallen Fortune was not sure why he continued to hide it like this, since he had ceased hiring maids after they kept quitting in offense. But old habits die hard.

Fortune plopped into the chair. He let out a howl of pain. Hours upon hours in the stocks had not done his joints any services. As Fortune tried to curl into a posture that would be reasonably comfortable, he took the first swig from his flask. And then another. And then another....

With the now-empty flask cast down beside his chair, Fallen Fortune fell into a kind of stupor. He stared at the many books on the shelf across from him.

All I’ve accomplished, all I’ve accumulated, for what? he asked himself. All so that sparkly imposter can steal it away from me? Life was fine, until she came to town. Now I’m going to lose everything! The mayor has always been jealous of me, and now she’s going to find some excuse to confiscate everything I own, everything I’ve earned.

“I’m lost,” he said aloud with a sob. “What can I do? If only they still needed me…. But nopony needs me anymore!”

He looked to his desk. “Why do I bother mixing up these potions? Nopony buys them, not with a so-called princess that can do magic spells. Even if the mayor keeps her grubby hooves off all this, I’m not making enough money to keep it up. I’ll lose it one way or another. But what can I do?”

Whether it was the contents of the flask talking, or some dark part of his own mind, Fallen Fortune seemed to hear a voice. Get rid of Radiant Hope.

“That would solve everything,” he said, not caring that he was not actually talking to anypony. “But how would I do that? I’ve tried to get her to leave, but she won’t. And I can’t do anything to her, not when she’s so powerful….

The voice came again. There is a way.

“But I would need….”

Yes, a power greater than hers….

Fallen Fortune’s eyes fell once more upon the bookcase. They fell upon one book in particular, a large one with dark binding, its title in signs that bore no similarity whatsoever to the Equestrian alphabet.

Fortune rose. He approached the bookshelf and levitated the book toward him. He opened it. There, upon pages yellowed and torn, in a language that had died out long before the three tribes created a united Equestria, was what he needed.

In a whisper lower than most, Fortune began to recite. The words were like acid. It hurt to say them, as though they had never been meant for a pony’s mouth. But he forced himself to press on. Once he had finished, Fortune lowered the book and waited, expectantly.

And nothing happened.

Fortune quickly read over the spell again.

“Oh, it needs to be recited while one is in a state of rage.”

Fortune lifted up the book and thought about what would enrage him. The answer was simple. He merely had to think of Radiant Hope, that pony who had nearly taken everything from him.

So he thought of her. He pictured her in his mind, focusing on her until it was as though she was standing in front of him. He carefully imagined every part of her; the long blue tresses that rolled like the waves of the sea down her face, neck, and shoulders; that coat, the color of soothing lavender, that became luminous when it refracted the rays of the sun; those deep, piercing blue eyes with their perfect hexagonal shape; those….

“I think this is exciting quite the wrong emotion….” Fortune said.

He lowered the book again. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn’t still be drinking from a flask I keep in a book.

But then, Fallen Fortune started thinking. He started thinking about how bad his life had become since that crystal pony came to town. He thought about how he had lost all his business. He remembered the confrontations with the mayor. He felt the stains upon his robes. His body ached still from the stocks. And he reflected that his life might soon get far, far worse. It all passed through his mind. And it was all because of her.

In the darkness, Fortune’s eyes lit up green. His irises were red as blood. And from those now-changed eyes, something else emerged. A purple mist drifted upward and weaved around his head.

Fallen Fortune grinned wickedly. His face looked like that of a ghoul in the pale moonlight.

---

What was Fallen Fortune about to do?

Read on.

Comments

[Rainny Night]

Fallen Fortune sorriu maliciosamente. Seu rosto parecia o de um ghoul sob o pálido luar.

Tokyo Ghoul references. This anime is horrible, but I loved that someone still remembers it.