Raven Hollow 2: The Riddles of Blackmoor

by Magic Step

The End of the Beast

Darn Mathematical Study for making such a complicated puzzle.

Oh well; the good thing about math is that there’s logical ways to puzzle it out. You know that you could build a linear algebra equation based on the clues, but you don’t feel like pulling out your notebook, so you resort to brute force. You know because the fraction 1/7th is in it that it’s a multiple of seven, and by the same logic it’s probably also a multiple of 12.

Twelve times seven is 84, so he took 14 years to get his cutie mark, then spent 7 years studying and 12 years as a bachelor. Five years later he had a son who lived 42 years and then died, and four years later was Mathematical’s last year. It all adds up to 84. The answer checks out.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you inhale to sigh with relief. You twist the dials to display the year 84 years after Mathematical Study was born.

“That was fast,” Sculpture Study says approvingly.

“Was it?” you say; you lose all sense of time when you read puzzles.

The final dial clicks into place, and a startlingly loud grinding of gears rewards you. Cracks appear between sections of the mural and the pieces slide slowly apart, revealing a small tomb the size of a walk in closet. A slab of marble that probably holds Mathematical’s mortal remains takes up most of it. To the side of it is a fancy stone stand carved to look like a tree. Resting in its branches is a nearly spherical rock, a dusty blue with silver streaks and an ugly crack in the top.

A shudder runs through Sculpture Study’s body as he looks at it. “Oh Celestia… to me it’s like it was yesterday…”

“If you’re too scared, you don’t have to help,” you tell him. “As long as I don’t touch it with anything metal I should be able to carry it away safely.”

“No… no… this… this is my fault…” Sculpture Study says.

“It’s no one’s fault. You didn’t know, Mathematical didn’t know, and maybe even Philosopher Stone didn’t know. It was an accident,” you tell him.

You remind yourself that even though the Blackmoor Beast existed for probably over a hundred years, Sculpture is probably still just eighteen in his head.

“Even so… I… I can’t be much worse off than I already am,” Sculpture Study says. “Even if I die, I think… I think I’ll be better off…” He walks over to the rock and sits by it, raising his heavily clawed forelegs. They’re shaking.

“We don’t know that you’ll die,” you say. “We don’t know anything.”

“R-right. It could be fine.” Sculpture Study still manages to sound like he’s about to cry, even without tear ducts. “Will you stay with me? I… I mean… not if it starts exploding or I start going crazy again but… but…”

“I understand. I’m here.” You wish you could do more. You wish you could promise him it would be fine. You wish you could do anything. But you really can’t do anything else. Useless.

Sculpture Study still hesitates. “Can I… ask first… you… you mentioned the riddle I wrote. Does that mean…?”

“Your sculpture garden is still there,” you say.

“Kids still use it?” Sculpture sounds so scared to hear the answer.

“Yes. Daily. In drove,” you reassure him. “They all love feeding the marbles to the animals. You’ve reached a lot.”

“Thanks. I… I always liked kids… never liked mares but always wanted to adopt a small family… I… am I boring you?”

“No, no you’re fine,” you say. Listening is the least you can do.

Sculpture Study lowers his claws closer. “Just so scared…”

“There may be another-” you try to say.

But Sculpture, acting hastily, jabs three or four claws into the rock at once. Two ear piercing shrieks ring out in unison, one like nails on a chalkboard and one like the Blackmoor Beast’s cry. Sculpture’s gooey gray skin begins to melt into an even more formless blob than before as Sculpture spasms like he’s being electrocuted. The rock is cracked all over its beautiful surface and has turned from blue to red, radiating heat so intense you can barely stand to be so close, but you don’t step away.

Despite his obvious pain, Sculpture Study presses his claws in deeper. A light comes from the rock’s core, glowing brighter and brighter until you can no longer see Sculpture Study, or anything else. You close your eyes to stop your retinas from burning. A high pitched metallic whining drowns out Sculpture’s agonized screams, and the cave is so hot that your coat feels like it might be on fire.

Then there’s a loud bang, and everything is silent. The light fades away and you open your eyes.

Shards of the stone lie scattered on the ground, their beautiful radiance faded to charred black. By the pillar is a charred black skeleton lying in puddles of ashes and shards of metal.

Tears sting your eyes. Shakily, your head still spinning from all the light and loud noises, you stumble over and half-kneel, half-collapse next to the skeleton. Why did it half to end this way?

And was there another way you’d let yourself miss? A solution to this puzzle you’d ignored until too late?

You pound your fist into the ground in frustration. He did nothing to deserve this…

“Ow.”

You start. Who said that?

“Help. I can’t move,” Sculpture Study said.

You scramble to your hooves and circle around the skeleton, confused, looking for a sign of life. “I mean… the… the destruction of the stone also burned away all your muscles, it looks like…” you say lamely.

“Why do I have to still be alive…?” Sculpture whimpers. You see the smallest yellow flicker in the empty eye sockets, harder to make out now that the eyes are open to ambient light and not closed dark caves, much like a flashlight being harder to see in the daytime. “What’ll it take to finally end me…?”

“I don’t know. Magic is annoying.” You rather self-consciously try to stroke the empty skull, feeling a little creeped out and a little doubtful Sculpture can even feel it. “Th-the good news is, now that the rock is destroyed, we’re not pressed for time anymore and maybe you can find a specialist who can figure this out. Maybe.” Does anyone study magical anomalies this weird?

“Thanks… thanks for still being here…” Sculpture Study says.

“It’s literally the least I can do,” you say. Actually, it’s literally the most you can do, but still.

“Detective!” Fabric’s voice calls.

You turn around and have a split second to see the lavender unicorn’s happy expression before she nearly knocks you over and hugs you tightly. She sobs into your shoulder. “I-I thought we were all going to die….”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” you tell her, stroking her mane comfortingly. Faithful and Swordplay also enter the crypt.

“We heard the explosion,” Swordplay says. “What the hay happened?”

You realize that since he never saw inside the crypt, he can hardly notice that the family treasure is missing or that there’s not supposed to be a charred skeleton next to the podium that used to hold it. “Well, you got your wish,” you say. “There’s no more family treasure. Now the tradition is over.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Sculpture Study says.

Faithful scrambles back so fast he trips over his hind hooves while Swordplay just shrieks like a little filly. Fabric yanks her head away from you and looks around wildly.

“Ah…. I should have explained sooner,” you say, feeling almost mischievous. “Swordplay Study, Fabric Study, meet your great great great uncle.”

“H-hi. S-sorry I scared you,” Sculpture Study says.

“Is he…?” Fabric asked.

“He was the Blackmoor Beast,” you say. “But when he destroyed the family treasure to keep it away from the Court, well… this is all that’s left.”

“The detective restored his sanity a little before I left to save you,” Swordplay says. “Before he was a mindless monster.”

“Wh-what kind of monster…?” Sculpture says fearfully.

“Not now,” you say. “Sculpture can’t move on his own and I don’t think it’s safe to move him if even vibrations hurt him. Are there any mages in Blackmoor?”

“Not really,” Fabric Study says. “If there was a Study with a healing study right now…”

“What about the Evergrannets?” Faithful Fellow suggests. “They restore missing flesh and blood and muscle. Maybe they can cure wounds even if… um… the wound is over the whole body?”

“I don’t see how it could make me worse off,” Sculpture Study says.

“Great; I’ll go fetch a dozen,” Faithful says.

“I-I’ll come too,” Fabric Study says, clearly just not wanting to be in the same room as a talking skeleton. The two lovebirds head out, pausing to nuzzle each other comfortingly.

“Are you still here, Swordplay?” Sculpture Study asks.

Swordplay nods, then catches himself and says, “Uh-huh.”

“You’re the oldest, right? Or is Fabric…?”

“It’s me,” Swordplay confirmed.

“Hopefully it won’t come down to a single line of descent like it did with me and Terri…” Sculpture says sadly. “Anyway… promise you won’t end the tradition, even if the treasure is gone? It… it was never about the treasure anyway. It was about how even generations apart, we still were family, and how every generation builds on the one that came before. And… and… and it lets us preserve the most important pieces of ourselves. My dad never had to worry that the house he and his friend spent so many happy days in would eventually be sold away and remodelled and maybe one day completely taken apart. My sister never had to worry that her favorite books would someday be sold and forgotten. And I… I died young and suddenly, sort of, but it meant everything to come back and hear that children still get joy out of what I consider my best work. I don’t know if I’ll be able to resume a normal life among ponykind or not, but if I can’t… promise me you won’t let the tradition die?”

“I… I…” Swordplay swallows, looking like he’s trying not to cry. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Sculpture says, sounding relieved.

A stream of flying light-red lumpy fruits suddenly trails into the cave, held aloft in Fabric’s magic aura. The caster herself follows shortly, walking side by side with Faithful Fellow, their tails entwined. “Ready?” Faithful asks.

“You’re back already?” Sculpture says.

“Yes, and we brought many fruits,” Fabric Study says. “So should I just squeeze them over…?”

“Start with one and let’s see…” Faithful says.

“You may want to leave, detective,” Swordplay Study says. “It’s not a pretty sight, watching everything regrow.”

“W-wait…” Sculpture says.

“Also that mare lying outside is chanting a strange riddle and I think she’s going to hurt herself if somepony can’t calm her down,” he tells you.

“I won’t be far away,” you shout at Sculpture Study, then hurry outside.

The mare has stopped convulsing randomly and is sitting with her back against a tree, looking around wildly and shouting an alphanumeric code. When you approach, her breathing speeds up but other than that she calms down. After a few minutes, you figure out she’s trying to ask where the Court went.

“Away,” you say. “Can you remember your name, or where you’re from?”

Instead of just answering, she tells you a riddle about seashells, then a riddle about the number of siblings in a family. You can’t decide if she’s trying to tell you she lives in a seaside town and is worried about her family, or if she’s just telling you random riddles. You’ve never seen a sirenite case this severe. Come to think of it, you’re not sure if anyone has in almost a hundred years.

“Okay, just answer yes or no,” you tell her finally. “If I take you back to Chicoltgo and find you a nice place to stay at while I search for your family, will you be okay with that?”

The request seems to take her a long time to process, but she nods.

“I won’t let the Court take you again,” you promise her. She starts to tear up, so you hug her and stroke her mane for a minute or two.

You hear a small commotion inside the crypt, so you gently pull away from the mare and peek inside.

In addition to the three ponies you expected to see there, there’s now a fourth pony. A completely white pony with no mane, no mark, and no color anywhere on him except his black pupils in his completely white eyes. He’s looking at his forehooves in confusion. “It feels odd, having normal flesh again…” the weird creature says in Sculpture’s voice.

“I have no words…” Fabric says.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Sculpture Study asks.

“You don’t look like yourself at all,” you tell him. “You look like-”

“Like one of your own marble statues,” Swordplay says. “We can’t bring you back to town like that!”

“That may be a plus,” you tell him. “If the Court knew there was an immortal pony in Blackmoor, they might come back to take you away to cut you apart. This way you just need some dye and wigs and you can start a new life as somepony else.”

“A new life…” Sculpture says sadly.

“Our family can sort out the details later,” Fabric Study says. “Wait until our parents see you!”

***
By the time you get back to the Study manor, it’s in the early hours of the morning. There’s been so many details to sort out and so many loose threads to tie up that you felt like you would never get done, between introducing Aviary Study to his great-great uncle, getting your motorcycle fixed, calling ahead to Chicoltgo to try and find a place for your Jane Doe, and of course, making sure you get paid. You were promised a huge reward and you earned it, darn it.

It doesn’t help that in addition to Sculpture Study’s existence, the cats all got let out of the bag regarding Fabric, Faithful, and Swordplay’s plans to break their family traditions. It’s not really anything to do with you so you didn’t interfere much, but since the discussions were held within earshot of you and not behind closed doors you figure it doesn’t count as eavesdropping to overhear.

Turns out Swordplay’s plan was to join the Royal Guard instead of just studying swordplay techniques for the rest of his life, but after getting mixed up with the Court and spending the better part of a day attacking somepony completely innocent, he no longer feels he’s mature enough to be in the Guard. You know you should tell him to follow his dreams anyway but you don’t feel that charitable towards him really.

With Swordplay willing to stay and continue the family tradition, Fabric’s mom is persuaded to stop trying to remake her daughter in her image. On the other hoof, Aviary Study had to threaten to fire Faithful Aide before he agreed to let his son court Fabric out in the open.

Finally all the arrangements are made, and you prepare to head home with the ex-Court member. You have to rent a sidecar to bring her home in, but it’ll be worth it.

Before you go, you find Sculpture Study to say goodbye. He’s sitting alone at a tea table, gloomily staring into space. He has on a hat to make his lack of mane less eerie but that’s all the Studys had time to give him for now.

“How are you?” you ask him, sitting across from him.

“Aviary told me what I’ve done,” he says bluntly.

You lower your head. “I didn’t want you to know…”

“Thanks for trying to protect me,” Sculpture says, still emotionless.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know what you were doing,” you try to tell him.

“Knowing that doesn’t make it better. Faust, I wish I’d just died long ago…”

“So what are you going to do?” you press.

He slides down in his chair. “I can’t do anything to fix the past. Killing myself now won’t fix anything and I don’t want to waste all the work you’ve done to save me. Thank you, by the way.”

“So what are you going to do?” you repeat.

“I don’t know! I have no idea! All my friends and family are dead and their descendants aren’t replacements at all!” Sculpture Study folds his forelegs. “I could go back to sculpting I guess, but it just feel so empty now… so meaningless…” He sighs. “Except for my park, apparently nothing I ever made has anything except sentimental value now.”

“That’s because you only made it to eighteen,” you tell him. “And your art doesn’t have to make it into history books to be special. Also, what about working with kids?”

“Sculpture playgrounds apparently aren’t safe for kids to play on anymore. Who the hay decided that?” Sculpture Study huffed. “But… I… I guess I’ll figure something out. When I get used to being alive again.”

“Keep in touch?” you say, standing up to leave.

“Oh… okay. If… if you want…” Sculpture says.

“I’d like it,” you reassure him. “And if you or anypony else in Blackmoor sees signs of the Court returning…”

“Oh, Faust, I hope not,” Sculpture says. “And what about you? Will you and that mare be safe?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Nopony’s really safe as long as they’re still out there…”

“Oh, gosh…” Sculpture says. “How do you live with that over your head?”

“Same as everypony lives,” you tell him. “One day at a time.”

With that, you wave goodbye and head outside to your beloved motorcycle, good as new after a tuneup. You help Jane Doe get strapped into the sidecar and fire up the engine. As you pull away, you can’t help but notice a small flock of ravens soar across the sky...

Author's Note:

Thanks to everyone who read, liked, and played the puzzles! I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The Raven Hollow series will continue, but not immediately; I need a break from coming up with weekly puzzles. I hope you'll check out some of my other stories, but if not, see you in book 3~