Fulfillment

by Amaranthine Thought

Chapter 1

It wasn’t a tale known by many. It wasn’t really written down at all, and it wasn’t spoken of often by any but the unicorns. For the tale was theirs to have.

Theirs to fear.

They whispered it to one another when the new moon was near, those that knew it telling those that didn’t. Mostly spread by children, who whispered it to one another when their privacy was assured. Only rarely did a pony not a unicorn hear it, but the tale was not something spoken of in confidence, nor told for amusement.

It was spoken of in seriousness, and told as a warning.

The tale went like this:

Long ago, there had been a unicorn named Emptiness. And she was special; she was born without magic. Not a single mote of it. Unable to even make her horn spark long after when the ineptest of unicorns could levitate things.

This lack nagged at her, and she grew obsessed with her lack. Until, one day, she snapped, and decided that if she couldn’t have magic…

Then nopony else would either.

Her family were her first victims, and ever since, she has stalked the nights of Equestria, seeking victims, seeking unicorns.

So that she could tear their horns off, and kill them.

She was said to be black as night, with two red eyes filled with insanity and bloodlust. She wore the horns of her victims on her, stuck wherever they might fit, trophies of past kills.

She would come on the darkest of nights, when the moon was new. Silently drifting through towns, she would peek into windows, checking the occupant inside. If she found an adult unicorn, she would enter their home, and kill them. But if she happened to see a foal, a filly, or a colt, instead of adult…

If a child saw her eyes staring at them in the darkest of nights, then she wouldn’t rush inside to kill them as she would an adult.

She would instead play a game with them. The Game. The rules were simple:

Emptiness would return every night for a week, and each night, she would try and take the child’s horn. But she feared bright light, unable to stand it shone into her eyes. Yet, each night, she would grow braver, faster, more and more difficult to stop.

Unicorn children whispered the tale to each other, to help keep them safe. Don’t sleep on the night of a full moon. Stay up, keep a flashlight under your pillow. Close the curtains, hide under the blankets, and pray that Emptiness might think the room is empty…

Because nopony had ever won The Game. But if Emptiness saw you, looking back was your only chance. If she saw you, you were doomed, just the same as everypony else that she had seen before, but maybe there was a chance. Maybe you could survive her:

If you won The Game.

---

When the knock came, Rarity gave a small sigh. She put away her work, such that she could even all it that, and got up, tired, worn, deciding to leave the frustration of trying to create something to answer the door.

Fluttershy, she guessed as she got up, or maybe another friend; come to try and cheer her no doubt. She didn’t know why they honestly bothered; unless something dramatic changed, she felt like she might not smile ever again.

As she trudged to the door, she paused to take stock of herself in a mirror. Her eyes looked tired, her face worn. Her coat a touch uncared for, her mane and tail long lost their curl. She didn’t forgoe caring for herself, but… it didn’t really matter to her anymore.

She brushed her hair away from her face, heard the little knock again, and said, “I’m coming.”, as she went to her door. She opened it up, for a moment seeing nopony there, and feeling confused.

Then a quiet sound had her look down, to find a filly there. A small, white filly with a long mane of deep purple hair, dirty and tangled. She looked up at Rarity, a single eye visible in the mop of mane that hid most of her face.

“…Hi.” The filly said, nervous, a little fearful.

Rarity stared at her for a few moments. Then, without a word, caught the filly in her magic, picked her up, and carried her inside.

“R, Rarity…?” the filly asked, more nervous, floating as Rarity shut the door behind them. And then locked it. And pulled the curtains closed. “What, what are you,”

“I know you.” Rarity interrupted, staring at the floating filly. “Swe… she, she told me about you. You knew her, correct?”

“Y, yes.” The filly worriedly answered, still levitated in front of Rarity.

“…I want to know where she is.” Rarity told her.

“…S, Sweetie?” the filly asked.

“Where is she?” Rarity asked, doing her best to not leap to any conclusions and do something she’d maybe regret to the filly in front of her. As silence stretched, her patience, thin already, wore, and she repeated, “I asked you where my little sister is, brat.”

“…Sweetie, Sweetie’s gone.” The filly told her, making Rarity pause. “Passed on; no longer with us.”

Rarity stared at the filly with wide eyes for a moment. Then she glared, and anger flared.

“You, you liar!” Rarity screamed, tossing the filly hard into the far wall. She grunted as she hit, and again as she landed on the floor. As she recovered, Rarity slammed her hooves down on either side of her, and she looked up into Rarity’s enraged face. “Tell me the truth, now!”

“She, she’s gone!” the filly yelled, terrified.

“I said THE TRUTH!” Rarity roared, the filly trying to dodge, only for Rarity’s hoof to stomp, hard, on her left hind leg. The filly screamed, her eyes shutting tight, tears appearing, Rarity breathing a little hard, glaring down at her. “The truth, nothing but the truth, and the whole truth.” Rarity repeated, levitating the pained filly up again. “Tell me your name.”

“G, Gentle Flowers.” The filly managed, her voice pained, blinking teary eyes.

“Where did you come from?”

“I, I was born in Canterlot.”

“Why did you come to Ponyville?”

“I was brought here.”

“Brought here by who?”

“By Emptiness.” The filly answered, before screaming as she felt squeezed suddenly; her broken leg included.

“I. Said. The. Truth.” Rarity warned, letting her grip ease again, Gentle shaking.

“That, that is the truth!”

“…Do you have a family?” Rarity asked.

“Not, not anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“…I, I used to have parents, and an older sister.” The filly began. “And everything was fine, until… until Emptiness came. She grabbed me, told me about her hunt, what she wanted to do, what she was going to do. I, I begged her not to; pleaded with her, but, but she didn’t listen. She, she killed my family, but took me along with her.”

“…And if I chose to believe this, why would the horn hunter do this?” Rarity asked.

“I, I don’t know why.” Gentle told her. “I, I just knew she wouldn’t ever let me get away from her, dragging me after her on her hunts, for so long; years and years passed, hundreds even, but I never grew any,”

Gentle screamed as Rarity squeezed her as hard as she could; mid crush, the scream changed somewhat, Rarity feeling a change, but she hardly cared. When Rarity ceased crushing, Gentle’s breathing was pained, and rough.

“Another lie and I,”

“The, the flag was different back then!” Gentle abruptly yelled. “We, we sang songs at school to it, and the flag only had Princess Celestia on it! Rich ponies wore tall hats and huge collars and ruffled leg bands! I, I’m not lying about how long I was with Emptiness!”

Rarity’s rage gave way before Gentle’s yells. Utterly unbelievable as her claim was, Rarity took an interest in historical fashion. Tall hats came in and out of fashion, large collars the same, but ruffled leggings were the fashion of long, long ago. The equestrian flag has both alicorns on it, but she was aware that there had been a version with just Princess Celestia on it, once upon a different time.

Perhaps a filly might be able to learn about that themselves, but the chance was vanishingly unlikely. Even less so if she tried to imagine that Gentle Flowers came to her door to weave some complex lie.

“…Why, why did you come to my door?” Rarity asked, her rage ebbing, but not gone.

“S, Sweetie told me to.” Gentle told her. “It was her last wish that I tell you everything.”

“Her last…” Rarity breathed, shutting her eyes as she grimaced. Without a word, she dropped Gentle, who yelled in pain as she hit the ground. As Gentle trembled, Rarity took a slow breath, barely feeling a twinge of sympathy for the pained filly, and then asked, “Do you know what happened to her?”

“Y, yes.” Gentle managed, her voice pained. “I, I know what happened; ever since Emptiness arrived here with me, and started playing with Sweetie.”

“Playing with,” Rarity began, anger growing back.

“Emptiness played games with children.” Gentle swiftly interrupted her, and Rarity hesitated. “She’d just kill the adults, but she’d play her game with children. The Game.”

A moment passed. Then, with enough delicacy to not harm the filly more, Rarity levitated her up, carried her to the couch, and laid her on it. As Gentle gave her a faint look of confusion, Rarity told her, “Stay there. I’m going to get a drink and then I’ll hear what you have to say.”

“Can, can I have a,”

“No.” Rarity said with all the warmth and care of an icicle, Gentle flinching at her tone. She stayed in place, only shifting a little to try and find some way to rest that didn’t feel painful, and Rarity soon returned. As the unicorn took a seat nearby, she simply told the pained filly, “Tell me about this ‘game’ you mentioned.”

“The, The Game.” Gentle said, wiping at her teary eyes. “If, if Emptiness saw a unicorn child, and the child saw her staring at them, she’d start playing The Game with them. She’d come every night and try to take their horns, but sudden, bright light would make her go away for a little while. Every night, she’d get braver and faster and harder to stop, each night only ending with the sunrise; if they lasted a full week, they’d win.”

“Then, then Sweetie’s odd behavior…” Rarity quietly murmured, remembering.

“She wasn’t sleeping at all.” Gentle told her. “If, if she did, Emptiness would have gotten her. If she slept during the day, ponies would want to know why she was, but she couldn’t tell them anything.”

“Why, why not?” Rarity asked, confused. “Why didn’t she tell me that, that this was happening to her?”

“Because The Game had rules.” Gentle responded. “If anypony helped Emptiness’ victim, and she found out, she’d stop playing The Game, and hunt instead. And if Emptiness hunted Sweetie, she’d also hunt any unicorn that happened to be in the same place she was in.”

Rarity was silent at that, and after a moment, Gentle continued, “Nopony ever had a chance if Emptiness hunted them. The Game could be won, but nopony had ever won The Game either. Not until Sweetie.”

Rarity gently picked up her tea. She took a small sip, and then stared at it before looking at Gentle and asking, “What did you do that week?”

“Let, let me start from the beginning.”