Raven Hollow 2: The Riddles of Blackmoor

by Magic Step

The Final Challenge

“Sculpture Study! Stop!” you shout just as the claws flash down towards your head.

Your eyes squeeze shut, like being eviscerated will somehow be less painful if you don’t have to watch. After five seconds, you open them again.

The Blackmoor Beast is frozen, staring at you, like the name somehow petrified it.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you whisper. “Maybe you wanted to sculpt Mathematical’s stone, or maybe you just wanted to learn more about it. Maybe your father Geological Study put you up to it. Whatever happened, you scratched the surface up with a metal tool, and just like Philosopher, your transformation was near immediate. That’s why you’re the only Study who died without any children.”

The beast looks down at its huge metal claws. The hollow eye sockets and hole for a mouth makes its expression nearly impossible to read, but its head tilts a little. Maybe in confusion.

“You must remember!” you shout. “Your father was Geological Study. Your sister was Literary Study. You built a statue park for children and that was your puzzle!” You pause. “Or was it? Or did you just build a puzzle-like game for children and your surviving family added on the spinning statue so that the chain wouldn’t be broken, and they could still say you were part of the tradition?”

The grey gooey beast rests its head in its claws in a picture of complete dejection. Then it throws back its head and howls its eerie cry, but now it’s one of sadness. With a loud crash, it falls back, rolling on its side and curling up in a small ball, shaking like it’s crying.

Softly, you walk over to the monster. The leash around your neck seems to have vanished now that Turtledove left. “You do remember, don’t you?” you gently whisper. “Wood is the sunrise and watching things grow. Metal is the sunset and the perfume of gardenias.”

“W-water is the din in the dark night,” Swordplay says, walking over. “And the most famous aurora. Fire is hot peppers…” He pauses, uncertain.

“And summer in December,” you finish. “And earth is your bare hooves on the ground—”

“G… g… golden…”

The beast’s voice is still oddly shriek-like even though he’s now whispering. He slowly uncurls his claws.

“No matter… where… you are…” he finishes.

The hole where his mouth should be only changes size a little when he speaks; how he’s actually able to produce sound, you don’t know. Maybe it’s magic.

“You do remember?” you say.

“Yes… yes… dad always told me he regretted not taking a sample, so I thought I’d surprise him with a small shard, but as soon as the tool hit, I felt like I’d been electrified…” Sculpture Study stares down at his metal claws. “How… how did my sculpting tools get so big? And attached to me…?”

“Why have you been killing creatures?” Swordplay asks.

“Shut up,” you snap. “Go help your sister.”

Swordplay glares at you, then gallops off.

“What did he mean…?” Sculpture Study turns his glowing eyes to you. His faltering voice is the only sign that he’s fearful of the answer.

“Nothing. Just some hurt wild animals,” you say. If the poor thing can’t remember murdering ponies, you sure aren’t going to tell him.

“Every… everything’s just a blur… a huge blur… and pain… so much pain…” Sculpture Study is shaking. “I almost died. I almost was free… but it didn’t last… I have no tear ducts anymore so maybe you don’t believe me…”

“I-I do. I… I’m sorry,” you say. What an empty sentiment. You have no concept of what it feels like and you don’t ever want to think about it. You look over your shoulder and notice that Faithful is gone too. Probably to help Fabric also. Everyone wants to help the cute girl over the hideous monster; you can’t blame them much. You turn back to Sculpture. “Can I… help?”

Sculpture Study curls his gooey clawed legs under him awkwardly, like a precursor to standing up. He’s almost sphinx like. “I… I don’t know. How many years has it been?”

The ponies who can give you an exact answer aren’t around. “That lavender jerk earlier is your great-grandson,” you answer.

“Oh gosh…” Sculpture Study shivers. “Terri’s dead?”

“I… I technically don’t know,” you say. “I’m sorry. I only found out about Blackmoor and the Studys this…” was it really only this morning? Gosh. “Today.”

“Who are you then…?” Sculpture asks.

“Just a detective.”

“And who was that crowd of fleeing ponies…?” Sculpture asks.

“They’re called the Court of Ravens. They’re obsessed with immortality, because their former leader claimed he’d seen the afterlife and there was nothing there, and they think that that rock can make them immortal.”

Sculpture Study cocks his head to one side. “Ironic. When I was dead for an hour or two, when the Blackmoor villagers ganged up on me to try and kill me, I thought I saw all the other Studies before me, welcoming me home…. There was a garden of all kinds of… art supplies and science tools and… it’s so vague, but it was a world where we didn’t have to worry about being the best anymore. We had a giant playground to discover and create things in forever… maybe it sounds corny.”

You just shrug.

“I don’t know if that was real or just a dream, I guess. But I guess we don’t know.” Sculpture Study digs his claws into the dirt. “So you’re saying they want to become like me? Are they that desperate to avoid death?” Sculpture asks.

“That or modify it to make it work,” you say.

Sculpture puts his claws under his chin, the picture of a pensive monster. “Would they test it on other ponies…?”

“They would, and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill failed experiments,” you say.

“Then the path is clear.” Sculpture Study stands up with a sigh and turns towards the crypt. “We have to destroy it.”

You nod and move to stand next to Sculpture Study. “Do you remember the answer to the riddle?”

“Um. No.” Sculpture Study bends to look at the crypt. “My vision is too blurry to read… I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine; I can do it,” you say. That probably also explains why Sculpture hasn’t noticed the dead Court member, or the still twitching mare. Just as well. You’ll figure out how to explain this to him later.

The familiar magnetic pull of a puzzle greets you, and your vision narrows to tunnel focus as you read the inscription carved into the crypt:

“Following the 1/6th of my life I lived before I got my cutie mark, I spent 1/12th of my life studying math before I was ready to create theorems of my own. Then, 1/7th of my life later, I got married. Five years after I wed, I was blessed with twin children, a boy and a girl, but sadly, my son only lived half the time I was alive before passing away. Today, four years after his death, I too will depart from this world.”

Beneath the cryptic epitaph is the date of his birth and a hyphen. Where the date of his death should be is a set of four dials marked with digits. You turn one experimentally and hear the click of ancient tumblers; this would probably be somewhat easy to lockpick if you had time to get the equipment, but maybe the Court of Ravens, like you, were unable to think of much besides the puzzle.

Author's Note:

This riddle isn't as hard as it looks, which I only realized after the fact. Best of luck!